#he's responsible for them and if they die it will be HIS fault because HE didn't train them correctly SOBBB
Text
Parenting Heacanons - Chuuya, Atsushi
Character(s): Chuuya Nakahara; Atsushi Nakajima (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Tags: SFW, fluff, familial, headcanons
Warnings: Mention of pregnancy
Notes: AFAB reader; originally posted on ao3 here; this is old and I'm not caught up with the manga now so sorry if anything seems strange
Chuuya
I'm not going to lie, Chuuya's initial response to finding out his partner is pregnant is not going to be very positive. He's not angry or anything, but he didn't really want kids and doesn't feel the slightest bit ready to be a father. He isn't going to run away, though; he knows it's sorta his fault you're in this situation to begin with so he's going to swallow his pride and stick around for your sake.
He spends the whole pregnancy low-key dreading having to take care of a baby. Mostly because he's got no clue how to do that. That's not to say he isn't trying to find out how; if you check his browser history at this point, it'll probably be a lot of parenting articles.
He'll say he wants to leave naming the baby to you but if you come up with name ideas and ask him for his thoughts on them Oh Boy will he have some opinions for you.
As soon as the baby is born and he gets to hold it, it's like all his apprehension just vanishes into thin air, he is immediately in love. Like, he looks this tiny, helpless human he helped make in the eyes and immediately knows he would kill and die for them.
I think that it would be a more interesting dynamic if he had a daughter; he'd still be a good father to a son, but with a daughter, he would truly be wrapped around her little finger. That little girl will be SO spoiled, she'll be the one all her classmates want to be friends with because she has all the newest video games and the best dolls.
Lord have mercy on anyone who tries to bully his daughter, not just because he'll be more than willing to beat them up but if she's inherited any of her dad's personality, so will she. If she gets in trouble at school for fighting back against a bully, she will get high fives and ice cream from Chuuya.
When she's old enough, he'll teach her to fight for real. He knows he won't always be there to protect her, so he wants her to be able to keep herself safe.
Once she's old enough to start dating, Chuuya will do the entire protective dad routine to any boys she might bring home. He will all but do a full interrogation about what they're planning, make it known that he knows how to hide a body, and if they bring her home even a minute late he is going to lose it.
Word will get around about this. It is not going to be easy for Chuuya's daughter to find a prom date.
Atsushi
In the early stages of pregnancy Atsushi is going to feel sicker than you.
This poor boy is straight-up terrified to be a parent at first because of what his own childhood was like. It isn't that he doesn't want to have children, exactly, he just doesn't want to end up continuing the cycle of abuse. Of course, the fact that he's worried about that at all is enough to tell you that he'll be a fine father, but good luck convincing him of that.
Once his child is born, all his worries are going to lead him to go so far in the opposite direction, he's probably never going to so much as raise his voice at the kid. He is a major pushover of a parent, Atsushi's child could get away with murder.
He's also going to have a hard time denying them anything they want. This is going to be another spoiled child for sure. The kid's probably going to end up as a bit of a brat because of this, and Atsushi can't even get mad because he knows it's no one's fault but his own.
On the positive side of things he's going to be such a supportive dad as well. He'll be in the front row of any recitals, plays, spelling bees, anything like that his child participates in and he is going to clap the loudest because he's so proud of them!!!
He'll try to help them with their math homework at some point, but quickly realize that he doesn't really know how to do math either. Much frantic googling will ensue as Atsushi tries to quickly learn long division for his child's sake.
When they get old enough to start hanging out with friends on their own, Atsushi is going to be so worried if they stay out later than they said they would, even if it's just by a few minutes. He'll also want to know exactly who they're with and where they're going. He isn't trying to be overbearing, he just has anxiety.
Voted most likely to cry when his child moves out. Empty nest syndrome is gonna hit him so hard. His child is probably going to get daily texts from their honorary aunts and uncles at the Agency reminding them to call their dad.
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bungou stray dogs x reader#atsushi nakajima#bsd chuuya#bsd atsushi#bsd headcanons#old fic
18 notes
·
View notes
Photo
#top gun maverick#top gun#pete maverick mitchell#beau cyclone simpson#jon hamm#moviegifs#filmgifs#movieedit#filmedit#oooOOOO#i love this scene so much#the way mav absolutely doesn't want anyone to die...because he knows how much it fucking hurts....#he's responsible for them and if they die it will be HIS fault because HE didn't train them correctly SOBBB#you're right not to accept that mav.........YOU'RE THE GOAT#*#me*topgunmaverick#me*petemaverickmitchell#me*tomcruise#tcruiseedit#tomcruiseedit
255 notes
·
View notes
Text
i fear the rottmnt fandom is sansing leo’s character
doinky rant in tags too:
i fear some ppl in this fandom over exaggerate Leo’s insecurities
bc let’s get some things straight
he’s an arrogant, talented guy who is sometimes an idiot and excels in strategy (a real line he’s dancing with tbh)
he’s great at compensating for what raph lacks in terms of leading: strategy, trusting ppl (like the first time they were w big mama (but their skepticism varies from time to time like w Jupiter Jim)), plus his skillset in fighting is nuts!!
and vice versa: raph often lends an ear to the team upon realising his approaches to certain missions doesn’t work (something Leo doesn’t consider until towards the end of the movie when everyone puts their heads together to make a plan)
let’s get this, too:
while, yes, under the guise he puts up,
he’s just a confused teenager learning shit
and he uses his charm to put up a front that he knows what he’s doing because he’s scared and confused,,
i feel ppl aren’t using the fact that
LEO IS SILLY
HE IS A SILLY FACE MAN
and hey did u know u can make rottmnt angst without making baseless torture towards Leo 😃
#no one’s mad Leo made mistakes in the start of the apocalypse aight#ppl are faulting him for letting his arrogance drive his actions#and unfortunately he only learns about the severity of the situation when Casey gets it through his thick skull that PEOPLE DIE#PEOPLE DIE BECAUSE OF THE KRANG#NOT JUST ANYONE#EVERYONE#and he realises this a little late and ‘makes up for it’ when he realises the only way to deal with their threat#is to seal them away bc he gets humbled upon the realisation that even after throwing literally EVERYTHING they had at the krang#they too damn powerful#heroes aren’t BORN#that’s why Leo’s such a doof#he grows into this role#and it’s a hell of a way to get into it#because he brushes off the title when raph encourages them#bc he knows their responsibility with the powers and abilities they have#and Leo understands this by the end of the film after shits gone down#and realises his role as leader as well#that his actions are responsible for people’s lives#something raph knew about and kept nagging him about too#so YEAH#it’s a fact that leo was a dick in the beginning of the movie#and it’s also technically his fault that the foot got the key#but he always tries to fix things when he realises the severity of their situation#like leaving his pod to get the key and not quitting at all costs to get raph back#but he doesn’t realise how his actions affect others until it’s yelled at him#HES NOT AN EMO TOO LIKE 😭😭#let this fucken turtle be silly!!! he’s silly!!!#rottmnt#rise leo#rottmnt leo
60 notes
·
View notes
Note
❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”
eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹
pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)
“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”
You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.
You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.
Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.
You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.
“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”
“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.
You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.
“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”
“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly.
Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do.
You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.
“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?” Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”
“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.
Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.
“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”
He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint.
His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.
“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.
“Mm…”
“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”
The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.
“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”
Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do.
His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.
A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”
“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose.
It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?
“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”
Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.
“Don’t say that.”
“If I don’t—”
“Eddie.”
“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”
“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”
His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”
“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.
“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”
“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”
Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”
You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.
“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.
“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”
“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.
“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.
You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.
The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more.
The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
✎ . . .❝ PUSSY PRIVILEGES ARE GONE ❞
— talking about pussy + one mention of “dick privileges”, whiny satoru, poly! satosugu x afab! reader, serial manspreader + sassy man Suguru, black reader in mind :3
“You can’t do this to me.” Silence. “Baby, pleaseee!”
“Nah.,” you scoff. “Over with, pussy privileges are gone, and that’s final.”
“All because I don’t like the nickname?,” Suguru asks besides you, head cocked like a puppy.
You tug at Satoru’s strong hold around your waist. “Yep. Can’t get a kiss, can’t give my boyfriend a nickname. You two don’t love me anymore.”
Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, sinking further into the couch, traces of a pout falling over his face. He sighs. “What’s wrong with just calling me Sugu?”
You fight helplessly against Satoru, ignoring his continuous whining as he pulls you back into his lap. “What’s wrong with calling you ‘Papa Sugs’?”
“You can’t be serious.”
Huffing, with Satoru’s overdramatic and agonized moaning in the background. “Pft. Imma show you some damn serious.”
Suguru’s chuckle, exasperation creeping up the edges. “Sure. You’re gonna ban us from your pussy for…?”
“Indefinitely.,” you grunt, finally prying yourself from Satoru’s grip in his shock at your response.
“Baby!,” he whines, blinking shiny blue eyes at you beneath white lashes. “Baby, I-“
“Ohhh, so now I’m baby?”, you tease, rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t baby when you weren’t kissing me back, loser.”
“It was a joke!” Gojo puffs out his cheeks. “I’m a changed man, I promise.”
“Oh, okay.,” you smile at the knit of his brows. “You’re gonna be a changed man, alright.”
Satoru falls over into Suguru’s lap, stuffing his face into aforementioned man’s shirt and whining a muffled ,”You sooo hate us.”
“Whatever.,” you brush them off with a wave of your hand, heading to the kitchen. “Consider it a lesson in punishment.”
Six days. Just shy of a week before Suguru shows signs of cracking, because Satoru couldn’t withstand this whole thing to begin with. He’d tried everything from begging to gifts to taking your ‘dick privileges’, and then being immediately thwarted with a flick of your vibrator.
“That thing’s gonna replace us?,” Suguru snorts, nibbling the inside of his cheeks.
“It’ll do for now.,” you giggle with a raise of your chin. In truth, it didn’t even come close, but you’re far too petty to admit that.
“Can’t believe that is gonna get more action than me.,” Satoru groans into the pillows. “I’m gonna die at this rate.”
“Good.,” and he jolts up with wide eyes at your response. “I’ll make an example out of you for Geto.”
Satoru drags himself up to pout in your direction. "You could at least call me Satoru, he's the one you're upset with about names."
"No, first names are for boyfriends only."
Suguru lays sprawled out on the bed, legs spread open in retaliation, tapping around on his phone. "Oh? And when did we lose boyfriend privileges?"
"Since just then."
Both men narrow their eyes at you, glancing at eachother before Suguru massages a temple, lids fluttering as his eyes roll to the back of his head. "Fine, we're terrible boyfriends. Happy now?"
You adjust the towel around your chest, and disappear into the bathroom for a shower. "Nope, but I'm glad y'all know."
Ever dramatic, Satoru points an accusatory finger at Suguru. "This is your fault, she didn't take these privileges until you and that whole Papa Sug nonsense!"
"Well, you started it."
Their bickering raises bouts of giggles in your throat. Water spouts from the shower head when you turn the knob, and you tinker for a few minutes to get it to a temperature of your liking. At the sound of your 'ahem', both men go silent.
"First one to join me in the shower gets pussy privileges ba–“
There's a sound of rapid scuffling, Satoru's 'ow!', and then a flash of dark hair as Suguru slams and locks the door behind him.
"Not fair, I fell!," Satoru whines from the other side, jiggling the knob.
"Desperate are we?," you flash your tongue at Suguru as he strips bare.
"Mm." comes his quiet response, not wanting to fully admit this little game of yours was a lot more painstaking than he let on.
"Does that mean I get to call you Papa Sugs now?" Before he can open his mouth, you add, "If not then you gotta get out."
"Yes, kick him out!," Satoru pipes in, door now wide open and you notice the knob is not as attached as it was before.
Suguru sighs, throwing his shirt in Satoru's face before pinching your waist, and he smirks when you give a small yelp. "Fine."
#i pronounce it papa shugs in my head bc I rlly wanna call suguru sugar :33#poly satosugu#satosugu x reader#satosugu drabble#suguru geto x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Angst, cause why not?
“Please stop looking at me like I’m dead.” And it’s Jason on truth serum, obviously directed towards Bruce.
Jason’s love language being physical touch but never letting anyone get close enough to touch him.
The whole idea of Bruce being Batman as a means of self harm because he feels at fault for the injustice and death of his parents. Making him throwing himself into vigilantism after Jason’s death so painful.
Jason only living for revenge, his only driving force to move forward is to get Justice for his death. But when he makes “peace” with the family, what does he have to live for?
Dick always trying to be open and loving to Tim and Damian because he partially blames himself for Jason running away because of his angsty teen/early twenties.
Jason has multiple alarms set in the morning, the sounds for these alarms are his family’s voices telling him they love him (because he doesn’t think he’ll ever hear them say it again).
After Janet and Jack Drake die, Tim keeps paying their phone bills so he can text their numbers. They obviously don’t respond, but that’s how it was before they passed so it doesn’t make much of a difference.
Drawing is Damian’s outlet, it’s like another part of his soul. At school it is the main thing people make fun of him for.
“There is a difference between choosing and taking responsibility for your actions.” Damian during a fight with Tim on why he believes he is the least loved child in Bruce’s heart.
Bruce being convinced for YEARS as a child that he was a curse because of his parents deaths
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Water Siblings and Fire Siblings as Foils
Katara and Sokka are peak sibling rep: they bicker, they hurt each other, they take turns being the voice of reason while the other goes batshit crazy—and they'd die for each other.
And very clearly Sokka's daddy's boy and Katara's momma's girl: and for most parts, they seem to be content with that dynamic.
Look, parents have favourites, let's establish that first: don't come at me for it.
But in a healthy environment, where all of the kids’ emotional needs are met irrespective of which kid gets along with which parent, they're less likely to tear themselves apart yearning for parental affection.
Sokka and Katara's family was a normal one, a healthy one—as healthy as one can be in a war ravaged world—and Sokka and Katara are normal siblings. Even after their mother died Katara doesn't seem to care much that Sokka gets more time with their father. And everytime she brings up their mother Sokka gets this weird look on his face, which, I think is later explained by the fact that he feels guilty that he doesn't even remember what their mother looked like. And it's not because Katara seems to know more about their mother despite being younger.
Neither of them grudge the other for having been close to one of the parents—let's call it ‘being close to’ instead of ‘dad/mum loved you/me more’ because that's what would come up with Azula and Zuko.
One can say that Azula's daddy's girl and Zuko's momma's boy... Except it isn't like that.
Azula wasn't loved by her father; neither was she close to him. If anything she had the illusion that she's close to him. But children can sense when they aren't loved, which can explain why she took her mother being close to Zuko so hard. Because she didn't get that from her father and isn't she supposed to be daddy's girl? But dad's good to her; mum... isn't. Dad lets her do what she wants... As long as she obeys him or she'd end up like Zuko.
For Ozai, both his children are pawns. He uses Azula to abuse Zuko, which in turn is to get at Ursa. And honestly, Ursa was a bad mum and an abuse victim and not the villain are takes that can co-exist.
A lot of mums in primarily patriarchal cultures end up abusing their own kids while trying to protect them in an environment where they themselves hold little power.
Ursa and Hakoda can be compared in this.
Katara haters can look away: she isn't whiny. And even if she is, well, she takes responsibility when no one else does so I guess she deserves to complain if that's what it takes. Katara is extremely mature. When she was mad at Hakoda, she still had the critical thinking skills to point out that yes, she understands why he left. He had to! She doesn't blame him for that, it wasn't his fault that there was war going on—but it still hurt!
And what does Hakoda do? He hugs her and apologises. He doesn't defend himself, because he doesn't need to. She understands! She said she does and he doesn't insult her by making excuses. He acknowledges and validates her pain.
Unlike Katara, who grew up in a healthy family with parents and grandparents and a whole community—Azula was isolated and under the influence of Ozai. And she was so young! If you remember being that young, you'd remember thinking that parents are always right. You don't realise that parents make mistakes too—and while her emotional needs weren't being met by Ozai, she turned to Ursa—but Ursa was at her wits end trying to undo the damage of Ozai's abuse on Zuko.
If she had given attention to Azula, Zuko, who thought that Azula was perfect and already had father's approval would have gone off rails—and since she didn't... Azula went off the rails.
Which was exactly how Ozai would want it. I don't like the comics much but it made sense that Ozai would hold both the children as bargaining chips against Ursa. Ursa made her choice, or rather, the illusion of her choice and Azula had to pay for it: the real reason Zuko could turn over a new page while Azula couldn't was because from the very beginning, Zuko had his mum and uncle.
Azula had no one!
Like Hakoda had to go to war and leave his children behind, Ursa had to choose between Azula or Zuko; Ozai orchestrated it as such.
But while there were people to pick up Hakoda's slack, there was no one to guide Azula. Sokka and Katara raised each other and they had Gran Gran.
Zuko and Azula were constantly pitted against each other by a war-mongering father.
I don't like this unrealistic expectations that fandom has of a family where both the siblings not only love each other equally, they also process emotions similarly (see: the Sokka vs Katara debate on how they both react to trauma) and parents who love all the kids equally.
Katara and Sokka are normal and realistic in the way that they are both different people: they process grief differently. Katara takes up responsibly and grows up too fast, it takes a toll on her and she's vocally expressive. She turns her grief into anger. Meanwhile Sokka internalises it in a survivor's guilt kind of way.
There's also gender involved in the way both pair of siblings interact. It's more subtle for the fire siblings than the water sibling. Plus, Suki makes Sokka drink his respect women juice, please y'all don't call Sokka sexist. That was character development for him which was addressed. I could make another post for gender and A:TLA.
And they both love each other dearly and they're okay with the fact that one is daddy's boy and the other is momma's girl. It's okay.
In contrast Zuko yearns for his father's affection and Azula yearns for her mother's. And while Zuko feels inadequate, for Azula it's “behave or you'll end up like your brother.”
She also learns to derive a sick sort of pleasure from watching Zuko suffer—which is entirely her father's doing. Because in rare moments when she doesn't have anything to gain by getting Zuko into trouble...she actually kind of looks out for him. It's extremely rare and sprinkled here and there to show us the Azula that could have been.
And I don't think Zuko really realised that Azula was abused too—not until he lets go of his father. Until the final Agni Kai. What I love about it is that despite portraying Azula as Zuko's tormentor for 3 seasons (and she was his tormentor) they did not frame the Agni Kai as some epic good vs evil shit.
Because from Zuko's point of view Azula was perfect. He's out here vying for his father's affection while she gets it freely. She's so lucky!—until he lets go of his father and realises what a monster he was... And he also realises that father never really loved Azula either...
They didn't say as much in words. But the final Agni Kai is proof enough. Zuko doesn't rejoice bringing Azula down (technically Katara did it). At this point, I guess, he realises that Azula's a kid too. Even younger than him—that their father couldn't care less about either of them.
Okay. I really do think that Zuko suddenly becoming invested in Azula's redemption would make sense after the Agni Kai. I also read this Twitter thread by Aaron Ehasz where he says he had plans for Azula's redemption and it was fantastic.
So yeah. Without being overt, the water siblings and fire siblings are contrasted by each other. Which is why I don't like the comics trying to do this brother-sister thing where they put Sokka and Katara and Zuko and Azula in back-to-back panels like... Even if I'm a huge supporter of Azula-deserves-redemption I didn't like those panels in the comics.
P.S. don't pit Sokka and Katara against each other. You aren't Ozai. They're different people who process trauma and loss differently and hence, react differently.
Adios.
#atla#avatar the last airbender#ink rambles#katara#sokka#zuko#azula#azula deserves redemption#katara defence squad
498 notes
·
View notes
Text
navy fury | mv33
im a redbull stan and max's girlie till i die (but my heart is papaya shaped) so please enjoy this one as well!
summary: max is struggling with asking for help, reader is trying her best to let him know that she always got his back
warnings: negative emotions, angst, max struggling with his demons, jos verstappen (he is the biggest warning lol)
pairing: max verstappen x fem!mclarendriver
Max would often get angry.
More often than he would like it to be. More often than he would want a consuming wave of anger to wash over him, for fury to engulf him and inject its burning venom into his veins. He would get angry over trivial things, get angry over bigger issues either. Anger would truly eat him up every time something didn't go as planned.
However, he tried to fight with his anger and negative emotions at all costs. Instead of processing them, letting go and moving on, he would bottle them up, allowing them to fester and poison his entire being. He preferred to get angry in solitude, where he knew nothing wrong would happen and even if it did, he would be the only one harmed.
Unfortunately, Max found a kind of satisfaction and comfort in hurting others. Emotions dissipated much faster when he could engage in an argument with someone rather than sitting in silence with only his own screams shattering his head.
If Max could have any control over himself and his emotions, he would unplug the anger outburst responsible for explosions of anger like this one.
He didn't hear the insults that left his mouth, didn't hear Christian's shouts telling him to calm down. He didn't feel the strong arms of the mechanics holding him back and pulling him away from Lance Stroll, who sat on the ground with a bleeding nose. In moments like this, Max was guided by nothing but emotions, desperately trying to find any way out.
In moments like this Max knew that to feel relief he had to destroy something. It didn't matter if it was a glass, his shattered fists or the bleeding nose of that Aston Martin dickhead who ruined his entire race.
Many people in his immediate surroundings distinguished the Dutchman before the anger storm and after it. Before it was Max, after it, there was only Verstappen.
Just as Max was the friendly, smiling guy who joyfully congratulated his rivals, willingly gave interviews and joked with team members, Verstappen was a walking hailstorm from which lightning could strike at any moment.
"Fucking idiot."
He growled one last time and walked deeper into the garage, where everyone he encountered averted their gaze and moved out of his way. It was always best to simply get out of Max's way and let him cool down. But no one knew that the fire of anger was just beginning to burn and the epicenter was yet to come.
"What the hell was that, Max?"
Cold water. The hiss of an extinguished fire.
He felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing his father's voice. Jos Verstappen was the only person who could instantly turn his anger into pure, filtered fear.
Max unzipped his racing suit, unable to look his father in the face. He didn't even know what to say. What was there to say either, he had just let his father down. Not for the first time though.
"I asked you a question."
His father's cold, gruff tone cut Max to the core and once again, Max was six years old, stuttering as he explained to his dad why he crashed his go-kart into his friend's. Apologizing and making excuses, saying it wasn't his fault that another seven-year-old cut him off. In his eyes, Max wasn't a grown man with an amazing track record, he was just a brat who needed discipline because he made idiotic mistakes.
His father was about to thunder over him again when the whole stormy situation was suddenly illuminated by a ray of sunshine. Quite literally, as it was Y/N still dressed in her bright McLaren suit, who upon hearing about the commotion in the Aston Martin garage hastily went out to found her friend.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Verstappen, but Max is needed in the studio," she said quickly, grabbing Max's hand "Come on, Max, we need to go."
"We'll come back to this conversation."
His father mumbled under his breath, watching them go.
The girl squeezed her friend's hand tighter and started pulling him in the opposite direction, wanting to get him away from his father as quickly as possible.
"I'm not in the mood for interviews."
"There's no interview; I had to come up with something quickly to get you out of there."
Max stopped, causing Y/N to be pulled back as well. Surprised by his sudden decision, she turned to him with a questioning expression.
"I want to be alone right now, without anyone."
He let go of her hand but she still stubbornly held onto his fingers.
"We both know you don't want to be alone."
Max shook his head in denial. The last thing he wanted was to be in her company right now. He knew that when the commotion and the crowd disappeared, all the emotions would flood over him like a toxic wave.
"You don't understand."
"Yes, I don't understand because you don't give me the chance."
The girl approached him, their bodies only a few inches apart.
"Everything is fine between us only when you're in a good mood. We are really close, we spend time together and we are acting like actual friends. But as soon as something doesn't go your way and your behavior changes, you build a thick wall between us." Y/N looked into his eyes, shaking her head. "Friends don't do that, Max."
"That's what the best friends do," he replied, looking into her eyes. As they were always in the colour of the clear sky, in that moment they were having a storm inside. "The best friends won't drown you in the shit that's swirling through their lives, they won't drag you into their inner conflicts. The best friends won't be a burden to you, you know why? Because they'll just spare you that!"
Y/N embraced him without a word. She hugged him with such force that someone would need chains to pull her away. She had no intention of leaving Max's side, no matter what he was struggling with. She wanted to help him, to be his support and to be the light in his darkest nights. She had no intention of letting him continue to deceive himself with assurances that everything was always perfect. Because life never looks that way.
Adult Max didn't return her embrace, knowing that it was for the best. Adult Max closed his eyes and tilted his head, not wanting to let a single tear escape. He hoped that by remaining distant, by hurting the girl with his indifference, she would let go of him. But Little Max didn't want to make her sad; he wanted to hug his friend and not let her go until everything will be okay again.
"I won't leave you with this, Maxie. If you like it or not."
Maxie.
Lighter.
Explosion.
He exploded in tears without any warning. He sank to his knees and tightly embraced his friend, burying his face in her stomach. Y/N stroked his hair, holding him close. She didn't try to calm him, knowing full well that he just needed to cry. He needed to let out all the sadness, anger, and bitterness that had accumulated in his veins and poisoned him for years.
When the girl kissed his wet cheek, she could swear that it left a bitter taste on her lips.
And it was exactly the venom finally letting him go.
701 notes
·
View notes
Text
Never too much, never too little
Pairing: Winter soldier/Bucky Barnes x reader
WARNING - The following fic contains: Angst/Fluff, winter soldier!Bucky, memory loss, kissing, caressing, comfort, mentioned past abuse & violence, mentions of past SA towards Bucky, trauma healing, reader refers to Bucky as ‘Winter’.
Summary: You take responsibility in taking care of the winter soldier after being the first to snap him out of HYDRAs control.
You had woken up in the middle of the early morning as you felt a tall, lurking presence in your room.
It wasn’t the first time he had done this since the day you helped him snap out of his winter soldier self.
That day, he was on the mission of capturing you, the one who the whistleblower within HYDRA had reached out to, warning about the winter soldier and the super soldier program in Syberia. You were a journalist, and the person who had reached out was someone you were familiar with.
Although you wouldn’t call them a friend, especially after the danger they would put you through as your identity got leaked.
You were expecting him to come after you sooner or later. And he did.
As the Winter Soldier had broken into your room and was about to take you, you thought of what you had read upon from the Whistleblower’s documents, and you got his attention when you said you knew all about what they had done to him. He stood there, trying to stay resistant and cold as you told him you knew he didn’t want to do this. That you knew he was forced to, and that he didn’t have to keep up with it anymore as you would help him.
Still, he stuck to orders as he turned angry and frustrated, and he gripped your arm as he told you ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about’.
Although, it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself that you didn’t.
As he held your arm tightly and was about to pull you out to his vehicle, you wrapped both of your arms and hugged him. He was shocked to say the least, not sure what to do. He pushed you off harshly as he threatened to kill you if you didn’t comply to him, but you went right back and wrapped your arms around him as you kept talking and pleading.
“You don’t have to suffer anymore or take abuse. What you have done this far isn’t your fault. I know what they did to you. Just let me help you. I can get you out of this, I promise. Let’s get out of this together. Please!”
It seemed like he had really tried to resist as he kept his hand on his gun, but his arm was trembling. As you saw that, you gained the tiniest bit of hope that you weren’t going to die today.
Miraculously it worked. The Winter soldier was brought down on his knees, his body becoming heavy as he slouched against you, allowing himself to let you embrace him. You didn’t stop as you kept whispering reassurances that you would help him be free from them. Free from whatever control they had in him, both physically and mentally.
And that is how you found yourselves in a cabin you had inherited, far within the woods of the mountains. Weeks had gone by as you had kept to yourselves far away from society. HYDRA was as much after you as their lost super soldier, and therefore you depended on bringing in supplies from the forest. It proved to be easy with an assassin who knew to hit his targets efficiently, regardless if it was a person or animal.
While you were working on figuring out how you could spread the classified information without compromise, you tended to the former winter soldier.
You didn’t know his name, and neither did he as he suffered memory loss from the countless wiping HYDRA performed on him. Therefore, you settled on a nickname for now: ‘Winter.’
Out of all their troubles, the early mornings turned out to be the hardest things to deal with. Because as the former winter soldier would stay alone in his room all night, trying to sleep through his terrible nightmares, his habits from HYDRAs brainwashing would return mildly.
That was why as you had woken up feeling that same lingering presence, you were not surprised to see the man standing there, staring at you as if he was on guard.
“What are you doing?” You ask.
His eyes narrow slightly as he considers your question. He shrugs as he replies, “Waiting for you to wake up,” as his voice remained emotionless.
That would be one of the first signs.
“Alright….how did you sleep?” You ask him as you remain calm.
He tilts his head slightly, analyzing your question. “As well as can be expected.” His tone remains flat, unrevealing anything about his thoughts or feelings. “You?” he asks, his gaze fixed on some distant point behind you.
You nod slightly as you answer, “I slept just fine.” You chew the inside of your cheek as you decide to test him, now unsure where his state of mind was. “want to come closer for a second?”
His eyes narrow even more. “Why?” his voice is now cold and unyielding, betraying no emotion whatsoever.
So it was as you thought … no different than some of the previous mornings.
“Because I want to give you a morning hug.” I decide to pull a welcoming smile at him as I pat the empty spot beside me on the bed. “Remember when I told you yesterday that it could be a good exercise to keep some consistency in your memory?”
He hesitates for a moment before slowly walking over to you. When he's close enough, he stops and looks at you warily. “A hug.” He says, as if it’s an unfamiliar concept to him.
You frown as you realize you’re loosing him again. “I gave you one yesterday, didn’t I? You said it felt nice.”
His expression remains unchanged as he stares at you. It looks like he’s not sure how to react, or even if he should. “I don't recall.”
You take a deep breath as you realize you need to take it from beginning. “Winter…do you remember why you’re here?”
He tilts his head slightly, the movement almost robotic. “I am here to carry out orders. To serve those who control me.” His gaze remains focused on you, but there's no sign of recognition or comprehension in his eyes.
You refrain from exhaling out of frustration as you don’t want to come off as someone who lacks patience. Especially when he’s like this. “no, that’s not it…Winter, listen to me.” You stand up and approach him carefully as you caress his face with sorrow in your eyes. “You don’t have to take orders from anyone anymore. Don’t let them control you. You’re here, with me. You’re safe,…just…please…” you plead with your voice, hoping he will snap out of it again soon enough.
His cold gaze softens slightly as he looks at you, seeming to process your words. For a moment, a flicker of emotion surfaces within his eyes before quickly disappearing. “I will not disobey.” He replies sternly as he moves his gaze to the side.
You don’t give up that easily as you caress his face tenderly. “look at me..what is my name?”
He hesitates for a moment, his mind struggling to recall that information. “I...I don't remember.”
“Yes you do, Winter…go on, say it. I know you can.” You don’t stop caressing his cheek as it seems to soothe his glare, turning into a look of vulnerability.
His face twitches just then, a sign of internal conflict as he struggles to obey his programming. After a few seconds, he finally speaks, “Your name is... Y/N.”
You smile gleefully as he finally recalls, “that’s right…you’re with me, in this cabin…where we are safe. you don’t have to follow orders anymore…you’re okay…” you hold around him tightly as you keep whispering reassurances.
The super soldier’s muscles tense under your touch, but he doesn't resist. “Y/N... It feels strange not following orders.” His voice is barely above a whisper, revealing just how unfamiliar this feeling of freedom is for him.
“I know…” you murmur with understanding, “I know it’s hard for you to fight it but we will keep working on it, alright?” I pull away to look at him as I ask, “you remember now how you got here, right?”
He nods slowly, still unsure of himself. “Yes…”
“how did we meet?” You ask him to test his memory once again.
He frowns slightly, trying to recall the details of their encounter. “We met during my mission... I was sent to capture you, but something happened. I couldn't bring myself to do it.”
You nod encouragingly “that’s right…that’s exactly how it went…” you then proceed to rub his back soothingly as you continue, “and do you recall me giving you a hug yesterday?”
He nods slowly, his expression still unsure. “Yes... you hugged me. It felt strange.”
You nod once again, “that’s okay…I know it’s not something you’re used to…” you hold his metal hand gently.
His eyes widen in surprise as you touch him, though he doesn't pull away from you. "Do...do not..." He says softly, trying to find the right words to express what he truly feels. It’s as if the winter soldier in him is trying to protest with a last effort, but luckily it doesn’t win this time. Instead, he closes his eyes tightly and leans into your embrace instead.
You smile fondly as you pull him into your embrace, “do you remember what I used a wet cloth for yesterday?”
His eyes almost snaps open as he recalls the memory. It’s as if the last puzzle of memory is finally placed inside his head. “You used a wet cloth to clean up my face. Because I got dirty while hunting.” He answers quietly, still leaning against you.
You nod once again proudly, “that’s right… see, you’re recalling everything so quickly now…” you stroke his shoulder gently as you allow him to keep leaning on you. “Do you want to stay like this for a while?”
He sighs and nods slowly, feeling more comfortable now that he has been allowed to remember things like this without fear of punishment or retaliation. "Yes." He replies quietly.
You lay down on the bed as you hold out your arms to welcome him into your embrace. He lays down beside you, wrapping his metal arm around you and resting his head on your chest. "Thank you..." he whispers, as he finally feels some peace in his mind. You whisper in return a sweet ‘you’re welcome’ before you continue taking a nap together.
That very same day, hours after that incident had occurred, you found yourself sitting in the living room, reading one of the many old books that had been stored untouched on the book shelf of the cabin.
The super soldier hadn’t stopped looking at you from the other couch as you tried to read in peace, until you finally broke the silence to ask, “Is something on your mind?”
He sits up and turns towards you as he asks, “Do you think we could... try something different?”
You look up from your book and ask softly, “try something different?”
He stands and turns towards you, his eyes burning with a fire that you've never seen before. “We could... have sex.” His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion other than the barest hint of curiosity.
Your eyes widen with surprise, unsure if you heard him right. “Excuse me?”
“I said we could have sex.” He repeats himself with the same uncaring tone.
You stare at him with only one word to ask, “why?”
He shrugs and looks down, finally seeming like he’s carrying some shame for even asking. “I just…I’m in a lot of pain right now…and sex is the only thing that’s eased it in the past. It has made me forget.”
“Why would you think that it could ease pain?” You ask, not understanding how he has had experience to make that conclusion while being the winter soldier.
His eyes closed tight just then as he thinks back to what you could only imagine being horrific memories. “I know because…they used me...for their own pleasure…”
Your lips part in shock as you can’t help but ask, “who?”
“The men…who kept me in order.” He swallows as he speaks, “When I wasn’t out on missions, they would…do that…as one of many tactics to keep me submissive to them…”
You lean in to hug him without further explanation, still processing this new piece of information. You knew they had been cruel to him, but you didn’t think they went beyond mental and physical torture. “Winter…I’m so sorry you were violated that way…but having sex with me won’t do any good…you need to heal in other ways…you can’t use trauma to heal trauma.”
“I know, but it's all I have. I’m sorry,” He sighs heavily as he buries his face in your shoulder. "It's just hard...to feel anything else."
“it’s not…” you assure him. “can’t you feel the affection I’m giving you right now?”
He hesitates for a moment before pulling back slightly to look at you. “I...I can feel it,” he admits softly, his expression still uncertain. “But it's not enough. The pain is too loud…”
You hold his face in my hands as I murmur, “what if I kiss you? Do you think that would give you any relief?”
You knew it was probably inappropriate to suggest it, given you two had only known each other a few weeks, but it was out of innocent intent that you suggested it. To see if it could bring any positive emotion to the winter soldier.
He stares at you for a moment, before he finally nods. "Alright," he says softly, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Are you sure? Do you truly consent to that?” You ask, needing further affirmation.
He nods less hesitantly now, “yes, I’m sure…”
You lean in, your lips finally meeting his. His lips are soft against yours as he tentatively returns your kiss. For a moment, there's a spark of something familiar—a flash of emotion that he can't quite place.
The kiss remains simple, yet soft and sweet before you pull back and search his eyes, “How was that, Winter?”
He blushes lightly, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had just shared an intimate moment with you. “..It was nice,” he replies quietly. “very nice...” he adds.
You smile warmly at his reply as you can tell he seems much more relaxed. “Do you want another one?”
“Another one sounds...nice,” he says softly, his voice trembling slightly now.
You frown a little at that, not wanting to push him. “Are you sure? because one can be more than enough too…”
“No, it's alright,” he murmurs, his heart racing in his chest. “Another one would be...nice.”
You lean in again at his positive reply. The kiss deepens slightly, and he feels a shiver run down his spine. He's not sure what it is about this moment that feels so different from all the others—the ones where he was just being used for someone’s release.
You pull away and ask once again, “how was that?”
He takes a deep breath, looking at you shyly. “It was...good,” he answers quietly, his cheeks still red from embarrassment. “...Can we have more?”
You nod, a feeling of fondness overwhelm you as you continue sharing gentle and innocent kisses with the former winter soldier.
His gaze remains locked on yours as his lips move against yours, savoring every second of it. After a few moments, he finally breaks off the kiss and stares at you with wide-eyed wonder. “…More?”
You giggle softly as you nod and lean in to kiss him again. It remains pure and affectionate, the way it should be for now.
He takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The warmth of your lips against his feels almost too much, but he doesn't want it to stop. “.... more.”
You pull away once again after a few kisses, looking deeply into his eyes as you make sure he’s alright. And boy does he seem to be doing just fine.
“More...” he whispers, a tremor in his voice betraying his eagerness. He reaches up to caress your cheek, fingers trembling as they graze over your skin. “Please...”
It was as if you had opened a new gate for him that day. A gate where he became aware of pure affection being the most healing thing to his soul after witnessing and going through hell.
He already knew he could never get enough of it from you, no matter how your relationship would move forward.
“How do you feel now, Winter?”
“… I feel alive.”
N/A: I wrote this in the middle of the night because I felt very inspired to. 😅 it’s been like months since I’ve posted any fics, so I know it’s out of nowhere but I hope you enjoyed reading it anyways.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#captain america the winter soldier#winter soldier x y/n#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x reader#bucky barnes#sebastian stan x reader
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
There isn’t a strike of lightning, no grand epiphany that clues Steve in.
It just comes down to this: he knows Dustin Henderson.
Knows how he looks when confronted with a problem he desperately wants to solve.
“Fuck this,” he’s saying through gritted teeth, pushing down hard on the gaping wound across Steve’s abdomen; he’s doing everything right, Steve thinks with pride, but it’s not enough.
It’s not his fault.
Steve says as much.
But Dustin isn’t listening; he’s just muttering to himself, “Not again,” over and over.
And Steve suddenly feels like he did when dropping the quarter into The Indiana Flyer—the moment just before the song played, already knowing what he would hear.
“Not again?” Steve asks very quietly.
Dustin’s mouth snaps shut. His face is chalk white, and there’s more than just fear in his eyes; there’s guilt too, guilt and a responsibility he should never have to bear.
Steve wants to take it from him.
He lifts his hand, grunting with the effort, and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Oh, bud,” he murmurs, “you’ve kept trying, huh?”
Dustin’s eyes fill with tears.
Steve tries to hush him, breathing turning shallow from the pain.
“Hey, you—you’ve g-gotta hand it to me, man,” Steve says through a faint smile. “Was… on the right track, y’know? O-obsessed with clocks.”
Dustin gasps out a laugh. It ends on a sob.
“Shut up,” he says, and that’s all—no clever comeback, nothing, even though he always has one.
Steve’s heart breaks for him.
“How many times?” Steve says, but he doesn’t need a reply; he knows enough just from the way Dustin is shaking.
“I—” Dustin swallows, shakes his head. “I don’t…”
Oh, Steve thinks, his kid is tired.
“C’mere.” He cups the back of Dustin’s head. “Everyone… everyone else make it?”
Dustin starts to cry.
It’s an answer of its own.
“Shh. Hey. That’s… you can stop now.” Steve pats the back of Dustin’s hand, stills the pressure on his wound. “Listen. Just… just let it run this time. Hey, it’s okay, Dustin. It’s okay.”
“It’s n-not okay, Steve, how can you—”
“Shh,” Steve says again, and maybe this is as much for him as it is for Dustin; he doesn’t want their last conversation to be a fight. He looks into Dustin’s eyes. Smiles. “Christ, I’m so proud of you.”
It doesn’t cover everything he wants to say; there’s not enough time.
I loved growing up with you. I’m sorry. I wanted to be there for you forever.
“Fuck you,” Dustin says, young and angry and so afraid. “Don’t say you’re proud of me, asshole, just don’t—”
Don’t go.
“Okay, fine. You’re a smartass,” Steve drawls, and Dustin lets out a choked giggle before grief takes over again.
“God,” he says, “this isn’t fucking fair. I sh-shouldn’t have to choose—this is—”
“Bullshit,” Steve agrees. “That’s not on you, man. Not your fault if the game’s rigged.”
Dustin closes his eyes.
It’s not so bad, Steve tells himself. He can just… rest for a couple seconds, tell Dustin to get outta here, then…
A faint chime.
Dustin’s eyes open. There’s a sudden gleam to them, shining through the fatigue. Determination.
Hope, despite everything.
“Well then,” Dustin says, “s’a good thing I’m a smartass.”
And then he’s running.
Steve manages to lift his head up with a cry, gets to see Dustin reach a grandfather clock ensnared with vines, because of course he’s not gonna listen to him, he’s such a little shit, and Steve loves him so much—
Dustin reaches up to the glass in front of the clock face, smashes it with his hand.
The world turns white.
The last thing Steve sees is Dustin turning to him with a shaky grin, mouthing, “One more.”
And Steve’s still terrified, but he also thinks of the world’s most stubborn, brilliant kid with a wonky compass, of how many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?
It’s a walk along the railroad tracks, stumbling into each other’s lives; it’s just get ready, and you die, I die; it’s being trapped under Starcourt, and Steve left with the one thing that all the drugs, all the pain in the world could not take away from him.
The absolute faith that Dustin would figure something out.
#a kinda concept thing got its hooks in me. they are a family and would do anything for each other ❤️#steve and dustin#steve and dustin fic#dustin henderson fic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington#dustin henderson#steve harrington ficlet#dustin henderson ficlet
778 notes
·
View notes
Text
contains: poly!ateez x gn!reader, soft ateez taking care of u, non-verbal and self-isolating reader, implied depressed/chronically ill reader
you: babies i think it’s better if you don’t come over tonight
joong: Everything ok?
minmin: but im hungry and u said u’d make dinner :(
woo: WE’RE HUNGRY!!! OM NOM NOM
you: just not feeling it tonight. sorry
You shut your phone off with guilt weighing in your heart. You had promised your boys a nice home-made dinner after a hard week full of non-stop practicing. You knew they’d been looking forward to it the entire week, the stress-free time they’d get to spend with you, but, there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been growing the past week and now it’s big enough to stop you from doing anything else but wallow in your thoughts. Now the guilt just adds to it.
There’s times when you don’t have energy for anything. Not even for your favorite people on Earth and it’s simply your body’s fault. At least you try to tell yourself that.
There’s no response to your last message and you sent it an hour ago. Usually you’d be suspicious about the lack of whining and bickering, but you’re just too tired to worry as fatigue fogs your senses. You’re set for a night of self-pity when your front door unlocks, myriads of voices barging in and breaking the calm of your apartment. You already feel a headache coming on as Wooyoung, like usual, argues about whatever hill he’s chosen to die on.
You want to get up to greet them, but somethings stopping you. The pit in your stomach almost weighs you down, your limbs too heavy to move now. You sigh and surrender to your body’s fatigue.
Seonghwa watches you with a sad look on his face. He knows all the tell-tale signs of your sad ruts by now, the most obvious of all being when you go out of your way to isolate yourself. It hurts him because he wants to help you, but he‘s not quite sure how to do it right with you.
“Sweet thing,” he coos quietly and lays a gentle hand atop yours, “how do you feel?”
His attention turns a switch on in you, feeling yourself melt against his soft touch and caring voice. You shrug, feeling a loss of words. You don’t really have any to describe how you feel. Or rather, there’s a boulder in your throat stopping you from even attempting to say anything.
Hongjoong and San walk over, the latter immediately scooping you up into his arms despite Seonghwa’s protests. Hongjoong leans over the back of the couch, carding his fingers through your hair and tutting at the state you’re in.
“You’re not getting rid of us that easy, you know,” he mumbles.
San looks right at you even if you won’t meet his eyes, trying his best to communicate the worry he has because he knows words don’t work with you when you’re like this. Seonghwa flicks San’s forehead, pulling a loud noise of protest out of him, “Aren’t you supposed to be helping in the kitchen?”
San responds by pulling you tightly against him and closing his eyes in bliss. Seonghwa grumbles something about disrespect, but walks away to help in the kitchen himself. It’s starting to feel a little warm with San’s irresistible need to touch you and Hongjoong’s eyes not once leaving your form. It gets unbearably hot when you feel Mingi’s lips against the crown of your head, Wooyoung doing the same and immediately jumping into gently scolding you for pushing them away.
Hongjoong wants to agree but he knows it’s not what you need right now. He shushes Wooyoung, “Did you take your meds yet?”
You shake your head. Yunho walks up to you, bending down to hand you your medicine with a kind smile on his face. He takes your hand in his when you swallow your pills, kissing each of your knuckles gently, as if he fears scaring you away.
“Here.” Yeosang passes you a glass of water. There’s eight pairs of eyes on you and you can feel each one. It’s like they’re watching a zoo animal on display and you’d laugh at the thought in any other circumstance.
Jongho stands across you, intently staring you down, “You know you can’t just expect us to leave you alone, right?”
San pulls your head into his chest and throws protective arms over you as if you’re a kid getting a scolding, “Don’t be mean.”
Jongho is about to retort before Seonghwa stops him, “Ok! Ok, what Jongho means,” he kneels down next to Yunho with a gentle expression aimed at you, “Is that we want to help you, sweetheart. And it’s hard to do that when you don’t allow us to,”
Yeosang scratches at his neck as he finds the words, “We know it’s hard for you to do that, but…”
Hongjoong continues for him, “We’re just asking that you try at least. Okay?”
You hesitantly nod into San’s chest and you feel him let out a sigh of relief. Wooyoung speaks up from behind you, “You’re hogging ‘em, Sannie,”
He shakes his head violently and hugs you tighter, “No ‘m not.”
Mingi grimaces, “You totally are.”
It’s all-out war again and your body shakes between theirs as each one tries to take you for themselves. San’s still got a good grip on you as Yunho, Seonghwa, and Jongho fight to pull him off of you. Wooyoung and Mingi stand back and argue with San, really the only thing they’re good for. Hongjoong and Yeosang grimace and watch the events unfold, only waiting to step in if they notice you get overwhelmed.
But you don’t. You feel warm and loved and happy, and there’s a bubble of laughter forming in your throat and surpassing the boulder that was stuck in you before. You’ll take it one step at a time, and they’ll take that step with you.
bom note: this is for the gays with chronic fear of being emotionally vulnerable. i tried to make readers issues as vague as possible for u. Also realistically i would not want 8 men all up in my space when im in one of these moods but it’s fantasy ok shhh
#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez fic#ateez oneshot#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#poly ateez x reader#seonghwa x reader#hongjoong x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader
285 notes
·
View notes
Text
the devil’s cup
pairing: demon!haechan x (f) reader
genre/warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), demons/underworld, mentions of death and self-destruction, unprotected sex/breeding (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), edging, very slight degradation
summary: In a world where humans and demons are separated by earth and the unknown, you’re curious about the creatures that most mortal beings are too frightened to investigate. More specifically if they can please you sexually. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.
wc: 6.8k (this is the shortest fic I’ve done in a minute)
a/n: quick (and short) write! as always, feedback is appreciated!
There was a bit of division between the upper and underworld.
That said, that never prevented the interaction of humans and infernal spirits. It only limited them, though even with said inhibitions in place, forbidding could only go so far within mortal control.
Not everyone was god-fearing. Least of all demons.
Though you weren’t exactly fearless, you were curious to a fault. Human knowledge of the underworld was limited. You lived in a world where plenty of supernatural beings - werewolves, faes, vampires and the like - coexisted in an integrated society, but demons lived in an unexplored world of their own.
Which, obviously, was the underworld.
The church insisted it was for your own sake. You had practically never mentioned your intrigue to anyone, though that was chiefly because you were terrified to. The pastors were passionate in their sermons, deeming anyone who played with the devil a sinner beyond redemption and a betrayer of faith. You knew you’d be thrown scornful glances in an instant.
You weren’t the only curious one. There were plenty groups of people who conjectured about the underworld and its occupants. Which was not an option for you for many reasons. First of all, they teetered on extremism. Second, you would undoubtedly be banished from society for so much as breathing near them.
Your only option was your friend. Who happened to be supernatural himself.
Ten laughed. “Let me get this straight. You want to fuck around with the devil?”
You frowned. Though you definitely preferred the ridicule over the comtempt. He, however, wasn’t exactly in the place to mock you. “Come on, Ten. Didn’t you call on a succubus?”
“Correction - you want to fuck the devil.”
“Ten,” you whined.
Ten shook his head. This was hilarious, because you were completely serious. It was also somewhat worrying. Most humans that had toyed with the devil for too long never survived. “Babe, I’m a vampire. Have been for sixty-two years. I’m technically in my eighties. You, sweetheart, are a human. Incubi can kill mortals like you.”
No wonder he tended to act like a cranky grandpa. You folded your arms stubbornly.
The truth was that you were searching for a way to spice up your sex life and strangely enough, a demon sounded like exactly what you needed. You were desperate at this point. The men earth had provided for you were useless. You could count on both hands how many times you had given them a try and were ultimately unsatisfied. You were out of options.
“One time won’t hurt, right?” you asked, batting your lashes. “Please, Ten. I just want to try. I can only die if I do it continuously.”
Ten blew out a sigh. “Woman, you’re insane.”
You whined, “Pretty please? I’ll literally buy you those Starbucks drinks you like everyday for a month. I need this.”
Ten mulled the offer over. On one hand, this was not only dangerous, but deadly. There was a chance that he could risk losing you in the process. But on the other, you were a responsible adult woman. It wasn’t like you would be selling your soul. You’d simply be testing the waters. “Fine. I’ll help you, but you better only do this shit once. I’ve had to bury a friend before. I don’t wanna go through that hell again.”
You lept up excitedly and cheered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much.”
“Whatever,” Ten said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back later with the stuff. And I’m taking it back after tonight.”
Frankly, you couldn’t care less. You knew your best friend was only trying to protect you, and you genuinely didn’t intend on disobeying. You were curious, not stupid. Nor did you have a death wish.
Ten reappeared later that night with the materials necessary to summon a demon. Technically, you could have done it without them, but that would’ve been a much more ineffective, chance-based approach. It also most likely would have taken way longer. According to Ten, the board had a ninety-percent success rate.
He had told you, “Unless you’re like, extremely unfuckable, it’ll work for sure.”
You snorted.
That was how you met Haechan.
Black smoke rose from the ground, wavering murkily with a ghastly noise until it dwindled fainter and fainter. You took a step or two back, holding your breath with curious fear as you waited for the mist to clear.
Once it did, the handsomest man you had ever seen materialized before you.
You audibly gasped. Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. His dark hair was slicked back, forehead exposed to the breeze that temporarily coursed through your home, and he was tan-skinned. Like the heat of hell had graced his body.
His pretty lips curled into the utmost smuggest grin. “Aren’t I lucky? I could feel that you would be gorgeous.”
“You could feel it?” you repeated dumbly. In your defense, you were stunned.
The average idea of a demon was a grotesque blood-hungry monster and needless to say, this nameless boy didn’t fit the bill. Part of you was half certain that Ten was pranking you, firm in his decision that it was foolish for a human to engage with a demon. He seemed like a regular, everyday being. Except maybe not. Most men weren’t this beautiful. And his presence was inexplicably strong.
Haechan scoffed, “Yeah? How else do you think I got here? I could feel your energy. It was calling me.”
The room reeled. The air felt different, thicker. Your body lighter. There was an air of danger to this boy with a trace of something else that you were equally drawn to.
Energy. Was it possible that you could feel his energy too?
Given you were in a state of mental narcosis, more or less the effect of his aura, Haechan gleaned you wouldn’t respond and instead approached you. It felt like you were jolted awake when his warm skin pressed to yours, his lips and breath ticking your neck.
“Haechan,” the demon whispered, but it felt like the thrumming of the wind. “That’s the name I want you to say tonight.”
Heat wafted over you. You nodded, because you couldn’t say another word. As if an invisible hand was clasped around your throat.
Haechan coiled an arm around your waist, forcing your back flush against his chest. “Tell me what you want,” he purred. Your thighs were bare and he snagged the opportunity to grope them, free hand leisurely rising higher. For now, they landed squarely at your ass. “So I can help you.”
You swallowed hard. Part of you was afraid, but the other was enticed by the danger. It always had been. Your voice lacked complete confidence. “I… wanted something new. The men here aren’t adequate. I needed something else.”
“Oh?” Haechan cocked a brow and snickered. “Don’t worry about that tonight, baby. I’ll make you forget about everyone except me.”
For a while, you had been at war with yourself, dithering between your options. But Haechan had tempted you. Whatever fight you had abandoned you as he brought you to your bed.
Every alarm in your body was ringing, sirening to you that danger was near at hand, but the soft lulling of his voice abated your panic. The horns were blown, but you were too far gone to hear them.
Haechan lay you at your backside and you swayed like a leaf, throat parched dry when you glimpsed into his eyes. They were red with lust, dark as blood. “Don’t look so scared,” he reproached, but it was of little substance given the smidgen of a smirk you’d seen on his lips.
You were still tongue tied and at a loss for breath, never mind words.
Haechan’s touch wasn’t gentle in the slightest as he came to tear your clothes away, shredding them layer by layer. His fingers skimmed against your body and your skin scorched where he touched you.
Admittedly, it was somewhat true that you were frightened, but this was exactly what you needed to fill the empty chasm of excitement in your sex life. Between thrill and fear, the feeling that coursed through your veins was indistinguishable.
You had cycled through mortals and been left unimpressed each time. There was bad, and then there was decent. You wanted neither. You wanted someone to go above and beyond. They tended to do only enough to barely get you there. If even. You’d seen it all; you wanted mind-blowing.
You shivered at the cool sensation of the air against naked skin, but it was immediately negated by Haechan’s body heat. Still, it wasn’t enough. You whimpered, “Touch me.”
“Eager, aren’t we?” Haechan snickered. “Say please.”
You didn’t hesitate. “Please. I need you to touch me.”
Satisfied, Haechan snatched your panties with a final tear and skirted a hand between your thighs. They were already open and parted, welcoming him keenly.
It was only when you felt his slender fingers scissoring between your thighs did you notice how wet you were. The thought alone had been arousing. The sight of him even more. It was the weaving of those individual factors that had you gathering in his palms like water.
Haechan shook his head with mirth. “Something tells me that you don’t get wet like this too often. Do you, baby?”
The answer to that was so embarrassingly obvious that you wanted to shrink until nothing remained of you. Your cheeks stung. “No. Not really.” The more you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so aroused.
If ever.
“Aren’t you a little sinner,” Haechan said and chuckled to himself. Needless to say, he was amused. A pretty girl like you that could most likely have any guy she wanted calling on a demon because the men on earth can’t satisfy her? He was delighted. And almost humiliated on their behalf.
Like the cruel demon he was, he added, “It’s a little pathetic, don’t you think? Getting wet for me when you could easily find a human to fuck.”
You whined, but ironically pulsed around his fingers. Those words were as true as they were humiliating. His fingers coaxed into you with a loud, wet squelch.
Haechan eyed you with the intensity of a ravening werewolf. The likes of you were familiar - pretty girls that were too curious for their own good and went looking into entities where they had no business for pleasure. Never would you be the first or last, though regardless he had a job that he was more than glad to fulfill.
Pleasure played out on your face. That said, you wanted more. You had always considered that maybe you were the problem. Maybe you were the one at fault because you were too greedy, too insatiable. Enough was a word of little subtance to you.
But you noticed a sort of stark divergence here. With your previous conquests, you were unsatisfied because they took pleasuring you as if it were drudgery. This was more or less a job for Haechan, yet in spite of that, he seemed enlivened.
Boys came a dime a dozen. Pleasure like this? It was a luxury far beyond your worth.
“Fuck me,” you whispered. You were even willing to beg, if that was what it took.
“Mm, no. Not yet,” Haechan said, having a good chuckle at the look of incredulity on your face at your expense.
Never had you ever been turned down. It was always you that turned people away. Men that were bound to be disappointments in the sack lined up for you. They never hesitated to take advantage of your desperation.
Haechan curled his fingers, sending every wall of the room reeling. Your pupils dilated when he leaned in, firmly holding your jaw to make you meet his stare. “Human boys don't build you up, do they? They just take what they want and leave. I'm going to take my time with you, baby.”
You doubted anyone had ever uttered anything like that to you before.
His grip slackened. Not many words needed to be exchanged, the two of you content with the sounds of your soft moans and wet cunt filling the air.
The glimmer of mischief on Haechan’s face turned pensive. “Can’t decide how I want to fuck you. What about you, pretty thing - how do you want to be fucked?”
You felt your cheeks warm in response to his question, though you had a contemplative answer. Any additional eye contact would have landed you in an early grave, but you wanted him to take control. Too many times had you had to take the lead because you chased your own pleasure. You were in dire need of relaxation.
And if you were being honest, you'd let him have you any which way.
“From behind,” you replied, clinging to the pretense of indifference.
The mischief returned at the speed of light and Haechan taunted, “Scared to look me in the eyes?”
You blurted, “Can you read my mind?”
“Yes.”
Every functioning gear within you halted and your body slammed on the brakes. Made worse by the serious look on his face.
Then, Haechan erupted with laughter. “Sike.” You were relieved, though not amused. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m not psychic.”
As if to apologize for the massive scare he’d only just now given you, Haechan swept in and pressed a brief yet unnaturally hypnotic kiss to your lips.
You felt like you could die at any given moment, but strangely enough, you liked it.
It was game over when he interposed another finger between your walls, tall and slender. You were plagued by so many emotions all at once that you hardly realized how close you'd gotten in no time at all. Time expedited, but the minutes ticked slower.
You grabbed Haechan’s wrist, fighting for control of his movements, though not that he needed much guidance. It was an act of bad habit, you supposed, but Haechan smirked and let you do as you pleased. For now.
“Haechan,” you whimpered, reminded of the name you were instructed to say.
The man in question eyed you with a lustful awe. It was the first time you’d said his name and brother, was it a delightful noise. He hummed, “Close?”
You bobbed your head. No words needed to be said. The way your entire body responded to his touch as if it was owned by him was enough of an indication.
In a mere instant, you felt empty and desolate, warmth fading into crisp ice without warning. You whimpered, turning to look at the culprit, but met with only a smug smile.
No way in hell had this demon just edged you.
Haechan beat you to a word and explained, “I want you to cum on my dick. Is that alright, princess?”
“Please, hurry,” was your desperate response. You had no protest. You simply needed to feel him as soon as possible.
Haechan had a nice laugh at the sight of you trying to find his hands anew and fuck yourself against them, but retrieved them, bringing his fingers that were coated in your slick to his mouth and sucking them clean. Ironically, you tasted like heaven.
You moaned when Haechan kissed you, his saliva palliative to the ache of the wait and wanting. It took your mind off of the throbbing between your sensitive thighs while he shredded what remained of his clothes. You were so wrapped in his dark magic, a pawn in his devilish game, but you didn’t care. He could destroy you until you were no longer flesh and bones and you'd say, “Thank you.”
Haechan was ready with burning lust and he growled, “Hands and knees.”
You didn’t hesitate to scramble into position, as if he'd punish you for wasting a second of time. Every voice in your mind was subdued and you only listened to the thudding sound of your racing pulse. It screamed even louder the closer Haechan’s body came into yours.
A gasp tore out of you the moment you noticed his cock stretching you open, ceasing the long wait. It was accompanied by another hushed growl, Haechan’s hands finding purchase at your hips. He filled you nice and slow, the pace so agonizing that you were tempted to believe he was testing you for the sake of toying with you.
“Don’t tease. Please,” you begged. “I want you to fuck me - hard.”
Haechan cocked a brow, but made no protest. “Whatever my pretty girl wants.”
You fought for breath when every inch was encased between your warm and wet walls, pulsing around his thick cock. Haechan penetrated you with a hiss at how you swathed around him so tightly.
Your body came alive at the touch of the undead, responding to his body with voracity. Haechan had no intention of restraining himself, ramming his hips into yours vigorously. He set a brutal pace, enough to sate you and your unnatural urges. For now. Your flesh scorched with fever, broiling under his fingertips yet craving more of him, more of the singe. You were indescribably elated.
Haechan seized you to a bruising extent and braced his teeth into your shoulder, effectively smothering a noise. You let out a cry of pain and pleasure, warped together to create some inexplicable sensation.
“So goddamn tight,” Haechan hissed, giving your ass a smack or three. Every thwack sent you clamping even tighter. “You like it rough?”
Between a thread of moans, you whimpered, “Yes.” But the way he drove his cock into you - hurried and ruthless - bundled your head into the mattress, your cries smothered by the pillows.
Haechan latched onto your hair, letting out a hollow, breathy laugh when you moaned. You were so eager to take him, never shying away from his actions.
It was paranormal, like nothing you had ever felt before. You'd yet to discern the invisible shroud of mist that billowed in the air, the spine-chilling gale that swept over you and chaperoned his presence, but you loved it. It kept you on your toes and made you hold your breath. Something to this extent felt forbidden, like you were getting a taste of pleasure beyond human capacity. It was an ethereal and otherworldly type of pleasure.
You felt so light that you could topple over from one breath.
Haechan’s eyes lingered on the way your whole body tremored at the impact of his thrusts, your ass meeting his cock with a slap and your breasts bouncing underneath you. Your body was gradually beginning to be coated in bruises and scratches, remnants of him that would linger even after he was long gone.
You loved that he was rough, loved that he fucked you like there was no tomorrow without overdoing it. He only had one night to give you the best dick of your life and was successful so near in.
Many had tried, but many had failed to fuck you like this. You knew you would be sad to see him go.
“Oh my god,” you cried, your voice given an outfall for speech courtesy of the way Haechan lifted your head by your hair. You were melting into abyss.
Haechan tugged at it a little rougher and demanded, “Tell me you love this.”
“I love it. I love it so much,” you babbled. Your thoughts were revoked. Your body was on fire. You knew one thing and it was the feeling that lit you off and riled you up.
The demon boy smiled. He wasn’t psychic, but he knew how you felt without saying. It was in how your body responsed to his, submitting to his every move. Your body betrayed you, presenting all of your emotions on a silver platter.
Haechan discerned you were near your climax and leaned closer, teeth grazing over your shoulder when he growled, “You’re close.”
It wasn’t a question; you were close. That much was obvious. You could only bob your head, blabbering more hardly coherent sentences that he found amusing.
You fisted the pillows and sheets for dear life, clinging to whatever you possibly could to anchor yourself. You felt like you had been put together solely to be destroyed afresh. As if his intention was to shatter you piece by piece.
In that case, he was doing a damn good job.
If possible, Haechan’s pace became even more merciless. “Let go,” he coaxed surprisingly gently, strumming you to climax with his fingers at your clit. Your body one-hundred percent intended to obey him, unable to defy its urges.
You screamed with orgasm, burying your face into the pillows to smother your cries of pleasure. Tears welled in your eyes, rivulets trickling down your cheeks. Your body felt whole and empty all at once, overcome by an overwhelming sense of relief. Even after you came, you were still pulsing around his cock, eager to get him there.
“Cum,” you begged, still waiting for him. “Please?”
The desperacy in your voice practically finished Haechan then and there, and he grunted, “Fuck.” There was no way he could tell a pretty thing like you, “No.”
Haechan found a bruising grip on your ass to anchor himself and his cock twitched with release inside you, his mouth parting with a series of moans and growls. You whimpered when he filled you, painting your walls with warm cum. Only then did your spent body slacken, collapsing exhaustedly against the sheets.
Haechan flipped you on your back and kissed the corner of your lips. There was something abnormally soporific about the way he tasted, because your eyelids began to weigh more than your body altogether.
“That’s it, baby. Go to sleep,” Haechan whispered, lulling you to sleep with his gentle voice.
There was nothing to fight. Your body lost all strength when you climaxed, and you succumbed to sleep in a matter of mere seconds.
“Atta girl,” was the last thing you heard before pitch black darkness bled into your vision.
When you roused from your sheets in the morning, Haechan was - as expected - no longer there, but traces of last night remained. Your bed was a mess, but you were in shambles, hair tangled on your bed and your body stained with tears, scratches and bruises.
Humorously, though somewhat questionably, only none of his semen was there. You wondered if demons could get humans pregnant.
You were elated, but somewhat disappointed. From the beginning, you were aware that you couldn’t see him again, but after last night, you were desperate. There was no way in hell he could show you a good time to simply never see you again. It was unfair.
The sound of your front door being pounded mercilessly startled you and you jumped out of bed, scrambling to cover your bare body and then rushed to the door.
When you opened the front door, Ten awaited you on the other side.
“You look like hell,” commented Ten offhandedly. You were always in wonder at how vampires could roam in the daylight, but allegedly, it was courtesy of potions and spell work.
“I had a long night,” you deadpanned.
Ten chortled and stepped inside. “I’m sure.”
You shut the door behind the pair of you and led him to your bedroom where your sheets were a disheveled mess on your bed. Last night had left the board on the floor to be forgotten.
Disinterestedly, you plopped on your bed. There was a question billowing like fog in your brain and you feigned your most indifferent tone when you asked, “Will he want to come back?”
Ten thought nothing of your question and shrugged, leaning over to pick up the materials you'd abandoned. “Depends. Demons know these… arrangements get messy. Some care, some like messy. It's not rare. Just in case, I’ll have a witch friend of mine fix a spell to ward evil spirits off.”
“Oh,” you replied, playing innocent. But that wasn’t what you wanted. You dwelled over last night and the thought of Haechan coming back for seconds. You weren’t special, that you knew. Demons of his kind has a nonselect variety to choose from, but you knew only he could pleasure you like that again.
Like he was catching on, Ten added, “It’s not a good idea to give him a chance to get attached. Some demons are bitter and possessive. The moment they want you to be theirs, they’ll hurt you and anyone else who gets in their way in response to a perceived betrayal.”
His warning spooked you, but not by much. You assured Ten that you understood and would leave that night behind you. After all, with all the measures taken, it was out of your hands.
One night became several.
In your defense, you weren’t the one that summoned him. It was because of your energy. He always claimed he could feel you. You frequently laid brooding in your home, yearning for him to return.
And then, he appeared. You knew when Haechan was there and when he wasn't. It was his presence. You could feel it in your chest. You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was in range, a gust of cool air would sweep over your shoulders and a thick gale would strike your lungs, rendering you breathless.
Haechan materialized in that same shroud of mist, snickering to himself when your startled figure trembled.
You gawked when you saw him in full glory. “How the hell…”
“Your friend isn’t the only one who knows a sorcerer,” Haechan grinned smugly. “I felt your yearning - did you miss me?”
Oh, did you. You had spent the past couple of weeks trying to get yourself off the way that he had, but to no avail. There was only one remedy for you and you were forbidden to have him.
“A little,” you admitted. Though you had a feeling he could see right through you, it was a lot easier to say compared to admitting you thought of how his hands felt on your body every time you touched yourself.
“I think you missed me a lot,” Haechan teased, stepping closer. Meanwhile, you were riveted in place, unable to move. You gasped when his hands browsed up your dress, targeting your damp panties. “Are you saying this isn’t for me?”
You tensed and whined, “Haechan.”
Haechan gave you a smile, the same devilish one he always wore. He slipped your panties to the side and brushed his slender fingers against your dampening cunt. “Tell me you missed me.”
“I missed you. I missed you a lot,” you confessed without hesitation. “I… I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
He cocked a brow and crammed a pair of fingers inside you. “Yeah? You been thinking about me fucking that tight little pussy?”
Your knees were bucking. You needed him more than you’d ever needed anything before in your life. “Please,” you cried. “Please, please…”
The demon silenced you with a kiss that made you feel so light, you almost tipped over. He caught you in his arms and carried you to your bedroom.
When you were finished, Haechan fell heaving at your side and groaned, “You’re always so goddamn tight.”
You giggled. “You love me.”
Like you had said some forbidden word, Haechan switched on a dime and gave you a fair warning. “That’s the snag, baby girl. I can’t love you.”
That you knew, but it stung to hear aloud. You were by no means in love with the demon you'd only fucked on two occasions, but hell, he seemed like the best option. There was a bit of venom in your tone when you responded, “But you fuck me.”
“Yes. Because that’s what I do. I have sex with you needy little humans and drain you to death of your energy. Then the next one comes along and the cycle repeats. I can’t love you because you’re going to die some day, babe. Even sooner the longer you mess around with me.”
You blinked. He was a hell of a lot more forthright than you expected. Haechan was going to fuck you within an inch of your life. Literally.
That was how the cycle began. Haechan informed you of a simpler way to summon him and he began to visit you more often, stealing your nights away. You never mentioned him to anyone. If Haechan didn’t kill you in time, Ten would undoubtedly burn you alive.
You loved spending nights with Haechan, and over time, those moments together bled into days and mornings. More often than not, you would talk the day away, discussing everything under the sun and moon.
Six years ago. Those events culminated in this later two-part dilemma you’d brought upon yourself.
Weeks turned into months. You were growing weaker. The venom was slowly killing you, contaminating your blood far beyond human reclaim.
Additionally, everything the two of you had said about loving each other had gone terribly south. The more you got to know Haechan, the deeper you fell. And watching you fall drastically ill under his influence tore an unfamiliar feeling from his cold heart - fear. Losing you cooled his already icy blood.
Haechan heaved a breath, trying to remain calm. The two of you knew that this would happened, but goddamn, he would have never predicted that he of all people would fall in love. It was almost laughable. “I can immortalize you, but there’s a catch.”
You eyed him expectantly. “Like what?”
“You’ll watch the people you love die,” Haechan said morosely. “Your entire life will fade with your mortality.”
You frowned. That was a given, but you loathed the thought of that day. No matter how far in the future it may have been. There were always immortal beings to befriend at your disposal, but the current mortal ones - your family - would pass on without you.
But even more, you loathed the thought of them having to bury you. You would take the pain in sacrifice if it meant they never had to feel the empty ache of lost.
“Okay.”
Haechan shot you a look. “Okay, as in what?”
With shaky hands, you blew out a breath and told him, “I’ll do it.”
Haechan interlaced your fingers between his and pulled you close. The last thing he wanted was to lose you, but he also wanted you to do this completely out of your own free will. “Are you sure? This isn’t some reversible shit. No take backs.”
“I would rather bury my family than have them bury me,” you whispered fiercely. It was all you had the strength to do. “I made this mess, now I have to fix it. I can’t let them be miserable over a stupid mistake I made. I won’t.”
Instead of recoiling from your slight outburst, Haechan held you even firmer. It was a sensitive spot for the both of you. There were available alternatives, none long-term. This was by far your safest option.
Death was not an option.
“If this is what you want,” Haechan said, like he was giving you one final chance to reconsider your choices. But you were firm in your decision. This was the price that you had to pay. “Everything will be okay. Baby, I swear.”
God, you wanted to believe him with everything you had, but you were terrified. For as long as you'd known him, Haechan had always been more calm and self-controlled than you ever were, but even now you could see cracks in his demeanor. He wanted to be strong for the both of you, knowing you would shatter the moment he did, but this had him rending at threat of rupture.
Haechan lowered himself to your height to be eye-level with you and asked, “Can you get dressed?”
You bobbed your head. You weren’t completely deprived of your vigor. Not yet, although you had been passing through the days on preservation potions and the like. They could sustain you temporarily, but not for very long.
The demon boy you loved brought you to a secluded area in the woods, timing your errand perfectly. Before dusk was preferable. Evil creatures lurked in the wilderness, preying on vulnerable humans like you. Not all were fond of humans and vice versa.
And you were already ailing.
There was a tiny cabin across a river, lying at its bank. According to Haechan, it was home of a wizard.
“Your friend’s a wizard?” you had asked.
Haechan nodded. “Basically. But Mark prefers being called a warlock. Apparently, wizard is an offensive term that’s only used in fairytales. I still call him Wiz, though.”
You gave him a tiny nod. Many if not most magical beings lived in areas isolated from humanity. There was long, unaccounted for history between the two races and you couldn’t blame them for any resentment.
But it also presented the fair chance that he wouldn’t want to help you.
Haechan opened the door to the cabin and you treaded behind him like he was safeguarding you. There was a man behind a cauldron that billowed with green smoke.
You took a glance around. The cabin was dim, sunlight filtering through the blinds of a single window upstairs. Candles and lanterns burned, scattered elsewhere. The warlock spared you not a glance, engrossed in his brewing, though you noticed a crystal ball on the table, reflecting a perfect view that overlooked the bridge.
It most likely had warned him someone was approaching.
Haechan put on his cheesiest smile and greeted, “Sup, Wiz. Been working out lately?”
Mark slammed on the brakes and bristled. “Hell no. Whatever you want - the answer is no.”
Your demon boyfriend frowned, walking beside his friend to give a slight nudge to his side. “C’mon, bestie. I didn’t even ask for anything.”
Mark didn’t waste a second. “I know. And every time you compliment me, it’s only because you want something.” Then, the warlock shifted his gaze and seemed to finally notice you. “Who’s the chick - new piece?”
Haechan rubbed his neck. “Yeah, about that…”
“Haechan, hell the fuck no,” Mark interjected as soon as he put the pieces together. “You know you have to talk to Johnny about that.”
“See, that’s the thing. Johnny will kill me. And I’m technically already dead,” Haechan joked, trying to ease the mood.
You swallowed like you could gorge all of your burdens with one gulp. Part of you was ready to accept that death was inevitable and tinkering with your fate was deadly. As a spirit from the underworld, maybe you could meet the boy you loved again, but you’d fade into a distant memory to everyone else you loved.
Mark removed his spectacles and massaged his temple before he sighed. “Do you love her?”
“Yes.” It was instant. He didn’t even need to consider it. That made you smile.
“Like, for real?” Mark pressed. Like he was in disbelief. “I can’t waste time and casting energy on a pretty girl you just want to keep around for a little longer.”
Patience slowly dimming, Haechan snapped, “When have I ever cared if they lived or died, Mark?”
You came to clutch his arm, and Haechan softened, switching on a dime. Much to Mark’s surprise. Even he couldn’t deny that you seemed to have an effect on Haechan - a grip that no else had.
Haechan took a deep breath. “Look, my bad. But she’s special. I don’t know how it happened, it just did. And it would be easier to do a cord-cutting spell and toss her away, but I don’t want that. I want her.”
A strained moment of silence passed before Mark finally groaned, “Fine.”
“So?”
“So, I’ll do the spell,” Mark said stubbornly.
It felt like a weight was lifted from your chest and you could breathe easier when those words left his mouth. You watched Haechan’s face twist with relief, and he whirled you into his arms, hauling you with a supernatural strength that made you squeal and giggle. “Fuck. I forgot you’re not yourself,” he said and placed you back on the ground.
You shook your head and smiled. Then, Haechan turned back to Mark with open arms and smirked. “Come here.”
Mark grimaced. “Absolutely not. I’m warning you. Come any closer and I’ll get Phantom.”
“Phantom?” you repeated, blinking.
Mark whistled, and suddenly you heard a low caw fill the air. Then, you saw a creature fly from the single window at the speed of light and finally come to a rest at Mark’s shoulder.
It was a raven.
“My familiar,” Mark explained proudly. “Every warlock - and witchtress - has one.”
Ignoring the way the raven - Phantom - was staring down your soul, you gave a quick nod and asked, “So, we’re really okay?”
“Yes. I’ll work on a spell for you as soon as possible,” Mark replied.
Haechan smiled and swept you into a kiss, then Phantom immediately began to caw as if she was trying to wake the dead.
Haechan snickered and put his arms between you both. She was very prone to attacking. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight. There’s enough Haechan to go around.”
You snorted and rolled your eyes. But you were happy. You still had Haechan, and you always would. Nothing would come between you. Death or Phantom.
Five years ago.
Now, you were alive and well. And not only you, but someone else.
After hours on your feet, you had never been more relieved to sit down. Ten eventually came to accompany you, having a good laugh at the weariness prominent on your face at your expense.
“Tired?” he asked.
“Try exhausted. I’m ready to drop,” you drawled.
Ten laughed, then shook his head and smiled faintly. “Tell me how it’s been exactly four years and I still can’t believe I’m a godfather?”
“Please,” you chortled. “They’re growing up so fast. I can’t keep up.”
You had discovered the answer to a previous thought. Demons could get humans pregnant. As it turned out, you also had to confess to Ten that you’d been sleeping with Haechan for longer than he'd thought. After all, the evidence had been growing in your belly for nine months.
Not one child, but two.
Ten gave you a tiny nudge. “Haechan really did a number on you.”
Through the corner of your eye, you could see him approaching and joked, “Speak of the devil.”
Haechan plopped down beside you, head in your lap, and said, “I’ve never had to work for anything in my life before those two.”
You and Ten giggled. “Get off me, you big baby,” you said lightheartedly. “Who has them?”
“Your mother,” Haechan replied, not budging like a boulder.
Or so he thought. You were both caught off guard when your two four-year-old twins eagerly came running after you, refusing to give their mommy and daddy a break.
Ten came to the rescue and leapt up, exclaiming, “Who wants cake?”
As expected, your two tiny twins turned around as soon as they came, shouting, “Me!” Gratefully, you mouthed, “thank you” to Ten, who led the little army away to dessert.
Haechan climbed into the seat beside you, and said, “We made this.”
“We did,” you replied, beaming. “And I love every part of it. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Me neither,” Haechan said, pressing a kiss to your lips. Now that the coast was clear, a mischievous smile crept onto his lips. “So, I was thinking that once we put the kids to bed, we could have our own little party upstairs.”
God, that sounded like heaven to you right now. “Say no more.”
Haechan snickered and lifted you into his lap. You rested your head against his lap comfortably. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” you said, a smile tugging your lips.
Those three words summed up everything. There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him that you always wanted a family with him, that you wouldn’t have it any other way. That you knew in your heart that this was the way it was meant to be. But you settled for, I love you. And you settled because he already knew.
“As much as we fuck, we should have expected twins.”
Those words snapped you out of your train of thoughts and you stood to your feet. “Save it. We have a birthday party to celebrate.”
Haechan followed you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Yes, ma’am. Mind if we go hit the dance floor in celebration?”
“Not at all,” you told him.
And it was easily the most magical moment of your life being twirled around in Haechan’s arms, the rest of your little family soon coming to join you both.
392 notes
·
View notes
Text
Celestial!Yuu: Viper...busy as always I see.
Jamil: Catering to Kalim is a full time job.
Celestial!Yuu: My poor child.
Jamil: With all do respect your radiance, I need no sympathy.
Celestial!Yuu: When will there be time for you? A child who must care for their own needs.
Jamil: I've handled it well so far.
Celestial!Yuu: Yes and your revolt against your master was you handling it well.
Jamil: I'm fine. I've made up with Kalim. I deserved what I got.
Celestial!Yuu: How much is your sanity worth? Can Kalim even begin to pay for the pain his friendship has inflicted on you? Has he tried? His friendliness doesn't erase his callous dismissive nature. Maybe that's why he has no real friends other then you and that's only because you have no choice. How can he survive without you?
Jamil: Don't talk about him that way.
Celestial!Yuu: Admit it, your life would have been better had he never chosen you as his friend. That's undeniable.
Jamil: ...
Celestial!Yuu: Had you never met he would not be the obstacle he is preventing your success. That's not friendship Viper, that's just servitude. Ideally, it would be one of those mythical bonds between master and servant but the truth is no one wants to be the servant. Only the master reaps the rewards.
Jamil: He needs me.
Celestial!Yuu: That isn't your fault nor your responsibility. Tell me what are you doing for him in the long run? Can you serve him forever, infantalizing him until you're sick of it? Leaving him weak and pathetic.
Jamil: You seem to know all. What would you do?
Celestial!Yuu: Even birds know when to kick the chick from the nest whether they can fly or not. Leave your post. Leave him to figure things out. If life at this school proves to be too difficult then send him home.
Jamil: He'll die! There are so many people who want him dead.
Celestial!Yuu: Whose fault is that? Certainly not yours. Nor your problem. Trust him to figure it out. It's a tough world. His family will find another victim to protect him. Let them sacrifice themselves for their son. Why should it be you?
Jamil: I...you're right.
Celestial!Yuu: I know it's tough. Just think about about my words for now. Just know that I cre for you. I care for all my children of the night.
#celestial!yuu#immoral!yuu#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland incorrect quotes#twst yuu#twisted wonderland jamil#twst jamil#jamil viper#jamil viper x reader
426 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nie Mingjue's Fatal Journey crying scenes appreciation post
There's no way I wouldn't make this post, but it ended up way longer than I intended.
Fighting with Huaisang
When is this man not tearing up?
This fight is so important for Huaisang's character development and the movie's themes, with Huaisang being ready to challenge and question the Nie ways and Mingjue doing his best to uphold those traditions and keep the peace through the only way he knows how.
But it's still hard to be challenged like this and to face the possibility that everything you've ever known might not be right, actually.
And this gif specifically is from the moment Huaisang questions if Mingjue even knows what they're there to fight and what this supposed great evil that will come to Qinghe if they fail to balance their blades even is. Mingjue has no answer, of course, I suppose he was only taught this and never had reason to question it.
But Huaisang is also talking about the disciples they already 'lost' at this point of the movie, and he says something along the lines of " You don't know anything, you only know how to bring them here to die" and that does it. Because it's both "you can't follow these rules blindly when they rely on sacrificing people" and "you've changed and I don't trust your judgement on these matters anymore".
And as he says it, Mingjue looks at their disciples and he sees the puppets for a moment. And Huaisang just questioned if the other disciples were really attacked by puppets.
So that's a big moment and Huaisang is right, of course, but he doesn't have a confirmation that this is the result of Mingjue's health deterioration yet, so he keeps pushing. And Mingjue doesn't really have a counter argument because he knows what's going on with him, but it must be very scary to hear it from the person you care about the most and realize just how much you're being affected.
(Actually, Mingjue has one counter argument and that is "Well, I am at least trying to do something while you're painting and living a carefree life", and he's not wrong either. Huaisang is right and rightfully harsh, but this is the first time he's being confronted with these difficult choices and all their family history. He can reflect on and question it, but his brother has been meking those hard decisions since he was 14, when did he ever had a break to question and change things?)
Which leads us to
The Talk
After seeing his brother sacrifice himself for him at the bridge, and then seeing Mingjue be so vulnerable and lost, that anger from their fight is gone. They can meet in the middle with "You are right, I wasn't thinking straight, this is not a long term solution and I've failed at changing our ways" and "It's not your fault, you did everything you could but you're not responsible for this situation" and it's very beautiful and heartbreaking.
Mingjue is so remorseful, both because he has condemned Huaisang to die with him and because he feels like he failed everyone and everything (even if he doesn't seem to know what he could have done differently to avoid all this).
And Huaisang's reaction in this scene is so calm it made me think this Huaisang is somewhat used to his brother displaying vulnerability around him. This isn't book NMJ with all his victories, this isn't a man who never let the Unclean Realm be conquered and who could afford to keep Huaisang far away from the war. This is a man who was attacked and subdued in his own home, who had to send Huaisang to the hands of the people who killed their father.
This Huaisang doesn't have reasons to see Mingjue as this unmovable force, he has seen Mingjue hurt and threatened and fearful; and he's now seeing him remorseful and defeated.
(I'm sure Mingjue telling Huaisang about the fact that he's dying and admiting his mistakes and insecurities is something new, especially considering their previous fight, but this Huaisang doesn't take it as a shock, because he knows his brother is only human and there's only so much he can handle. He even, like, explicitly says this)
And so he assumes this calm, reassuring and empathetic posture, because that's what his brother is asking for. And it's the most beautiful thing, Huaisang has so much love for him, so much empathy. And this is Mingjue's reaction to his brother's reassurance that it's okay if they have to die there:
I'm sure Huaisang is still processing Mingjue's "I only forced you to practice because I'll die soon", but he's so good at reassuring his brother.
Because Mingjue just told him "I am dying and I'll go as a failure" and Huaisang insisted "None of this is your fault and you did everything you could and more, and if I have to die here with you today, I don't regret a thing, and you shouldn't either".
There's no despair or anger that his brother is only telling him this now, there's only understanding and acceptance and so much love and they really knew what they were doing with this movie.
His people love him
Mingjue is so moved. He just admitted to Huaisang that he's not in peace with his accomplishments, or lack thereof; that he feels ashamed to face his ancestors, having done so little.
So I truly believe Mingjue doesn't consider himself worthy of this much trust and support. (And I can't ignore how this is tied to the Nightless City situation, where he led the men who trusted him with their lives to a dangerous situation and couldn't save any of them).
As we see in the confrontation at Jinlintai, that technically happens after this movie, that is still a very sensitive topic.
And here he has his loyal disciples saying they will follow him yet again, despite his previous 'failures'; just like Huaisang was ready to die with him. They have so much trust in him, and the way he's nodding a little here, just like he was nodding when Huaisang reminded him of everything he's done for their sect since their father died, is like he's convincing himself of it. That he can do this and he can do this right this time.
And yet
He fails again. And I don't even think he knows it was him who killed those disciples, like some people say. He doesn't need to because it doesn't matter. His men, who followed him till the end of the world, are dead again. And so is the hope he had of doing this one right thing before he dies.
Yes, he supressed the saber spirit like he had to, but they're still dead, all of them.
He falls apart, how could he not?
At some point I'm sure Huaisang his holding all his weight because he just gives up. There's only so much loss one can handle and that's way too much.
And look at the way Huaisang is watching him as he realizes something inside Mingjue shattered forever.
There's so much pain in this scene, it looks physically taxing and I hope people gave Wang Yizhou a break after he shot this. I know it's his job and he's phenomenal at it, but this has to mess with your head a little.
And hey, it's a Huaisang crying scene as well. CQL Huaisang only really cries twice. First he watches his brother have a mental breakdown in his arms after unknowingly killing his own disciples; and then as he watches his brother qi deviate and die, while unable to do anything to either stop or comfort him.
(And a lot of people said there's no hesitation on Huaisang's part when he rushes to his brother's aid when Mingjue is hurt on this post's notes, and that's true for book Huaisang too, because he runs towards Mingjue as he is qi deviating, gets hurt in the process, and still keeps calling for him, which makes CQL's decision to have JGY holding him back kind of cruel, tbh, there's not a Huaisang who would run from a hurting Mingjue regardless of the risks
But at least we have this scene.)
And that's it, I guess. There's nothing uplifting to say about this, really. He just went through a lot and kept shouldering everything until he couldn't anymore. I just wish book NMJ had gotten to receive the same love and comfort and acceptance from NHS before he died, I wish he had been able to tell his brother what was actually happening, but thats kind of the purpose of this movie, so I'm just very grateful that it exists.
It's like that post says, it didn't change anything but the love was there, you know? That's how this movie feels for me.
#nie mingjue#nie huaisang#fatal journey#cql#long post#now this is meta with gifs#sorry i can't even attempt to joke a little about this movie everything is just sad from start to finish#the gifs might look worse than the ones on the other post and that's me not knowing how to deal with fatal journey being so dark and green#that talk they have feels kind of like an absolution for nmj doesn't it#book nmj deserved that too#oh yes we have two tearing up scenes#one crying scene#and one bawling his eyes out scene#on a movie that is less than 1 hour and a half long so he's crying the entire time; really
177 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi!! <3
im the anon who req the dan heng headcanons.. TYSM IT WAS AMAZING!!! OmG OMG OMG best idea ever. well not best idea ever. but imagine like blade is super distant and cold towards you as he normally is, right? but he secretly likes the reader for plot purposes. but one day, the reader is js like "oh well" and talks to someone else for a change, having fun w the other person instead of blade since blade 'doesnt' like them. would blade just stand there and watch knowing he cant rightfully do anything since it was partly his fault (and he has too much pride for himself), or would he try to get you to talk to him again?
HI ANON AHH tysm for the requests :D i’m glad you enjoyed it so much~! that’s a great idea i was so excited to write this one i tried to write it as fast as possible LOL
Secretly Loves You - Blade x F!reader
warnings: none~
You had been apart of the Stellaron Hunters for about a year now. You had grown the closest with Silver Wolf, as you both shared an intense love of games. You were picked up from their time on the Xianzhou Luofu for your healing capabilities and quickly became a core member of the crew.
Elio liked you and so did Sam, Silver Wolf adored you and Kafka respected you. But the person who you wanted to like you the most seemed to despise you.
Blade — Kafka’s golden boy (you always swore they had something for each other, but neither ever confirmed it and nobody could guess if they were together or not) Fierceness aside, he was absolute eye candy to you.
Blade was extremely closed off — it’s been like that since day one. It took him months and months to warm up to Silver Wolf (and now he treats her like an irritating little sister that he secretly adores but claims he hates), and even though it’s been almost a full year, you haven’t been able to break through to him just yet.
You didn’t exactly know why. It wasn’t like he was talkative and excitable to everyone else by any means, but he definitely showed at least some kind of enjoyment speaking with people. With you? It seemed like he absolutely hated you.
Maybe it was the fact that he hated being nursed back to health due to him wanting to die so badly. You never understood that, and were just simply doing your job to protect him.
You’ve lost count by now of how many times he complained to you about helping him was unnecessary. It irritated you, but you always smiled at him and told him you were just doing your job.
“I told you, I don’t need your help,” he grunted as you rubbed special Xianzhou healing oils on his back. You bit your lip as you continued to massage it into his skin, “Do you ever not complain?” you said teasingly as you pat his back playfully.
He only grunted in response. He hated having you see him like this. He was shirtless on the med bay table, sitting up with his chest bandage off for once. His upper chest was heavily scarred and destroyed from all the times Jingliu killed him over and over again. The first time you saw those wounds, you were determined to try and heal them so he wasn’t forced to wear as many bandages on the daily.
You were using special Xianzhou healing oils to increase the healing speed — and within a few months, you were noticing small bits of healthier skin, showing it was working.
“Complain all you want, Bladie, but it’s actually working to help you.” He glanced back at her with a glare, “I told you not to call me that, L/n.” His voice was bitter and cold as always to you.
It hurt, but eventually you grew thicker skin to it. It hurt especially because over the months you began to harbor a nasty crush on the immortal man.
Silver Wolf loved to tease you about it, and swore she would help get you two together. But little interactions like these with Blade helped cement in your mind that there was no way he saw you as anything more than an annoying healer.
What you didn’t know was that Blade actually harbored feelings for you, too.
Due to his painful past, he was very adamant about not getting close to anyone again out of fear he’d lose everyone he loves again — especially a lover.
He thought you were absolutely beautiful. He secretly loved the extra attention you were giving him, and although he wanted nothing more than eternal rest, he was thankful that you were giving him a distraction from the pain.
He just had no idea how to tell you. He had a reputation with the Hunters as being the cold and brooding one. He definitely wasn’t sure how to approach a girl he liked and say “Hey, I like you” without feeling like an absolute pathetic fool.
It stayed this way for months. Neither of you saying anything to the other that would let the other know you like each other. Until eventually, a new member on the medical team started to work for the Hunters — a man named Leon.
Leon was everything Blade was hoping he could be for you. He was handsome, he was nice, gentlemanly — he was attentive to you and could speak his heart. You and him quickly became close, and there were even some moments where Leon took care of Blade instead of you.
He absolutely was growing jealous over the man. Some nights Blade wondered if he could just kill Leon and get on with it and swoop you off of your feet, but being a romantic was not Blade’s strong suit by any means.
His final straw finally made him snap to go to Kafka for advice. After his weekly checkup with you, he got home and realized his bandages weren’t tight enough around his chest, so he had to go back to the med bay. As he walked back to the med bay he froze, seeing you kissing Leon from a distance.
He felt his anger consume him and he decided to just deal with the loose bandage and fix it himself. He stormed off as he felt the Mara flare up within him, making him angrier than he normally would’ve been.
Of course you’re moving on. Why wouldn’t you? He never made any move on you to let you know he liked you. Why would you risk waiting around when a perfect man for you was right there?
Blade found himself at Kafka’s door as he knocked. She opened it and frowned seeing Blade angry, “Bladie? What’s wrong?” she asked.
Blade pushed himself in the door and slammed it behind him, huffing in frustration, “Can I just fucking kill Leon already?”
Kafka raised as brow as she motioned for him to sit down on her couch. “You can’t kill the rookie. Why do you want to?”
Blade unbuttoned his shirt and jacket and slid it off of his arms, revealing his bandaged chest. “Can you fix these for me? Y/n’s too busy getting fucked to deal with it.”
Kafka bit her lip as she smirked. “Am i sensing jealousy from you? Over Y/n and the rookie?”
He grumbled as he shook his head, running his fingers through his tousled hair, “Would you just leave it and fix this shit for me?”
Kafka raised her hands in defense as she sat behind him, beginning to unravel the bandages. “You just want it tighter, right?”
“Yes,” he muttered, looking out at the photo of them all on her wall.
Blade, Elio, Sam, Silver Wolf, Kafka, and Y/n were in it. He felt his heart ache seeing her so happy beside Silver Wolf. She looked just as happy in the photo as she did leaning in to kiss Leon.
The image of them kissing was seared in his brain, and it made him angrier the more he thought of it.
Kafka, whose used her Spirit Whisper on Blade long enough to understand when he was angry, rest her hand on his shoulder. “Blade. Talk with me. Why are you so angry right now?” she asked, her voice gentle with him.
He was silent for a moment before realizing this might be his only shot for help. He sighed, “…It’s about Y/n. I… I like her,” he said, his gravelly voice low and soft as he spoke. Kafka was the only person he felt comfortable opening up around.
“And I’m angry that she can’t see that. She knows I have a hard time expressing myself. So why couldn’t she tell?” Kafka unintentionally let out a laugh at his commentary.
He turned around, glancing back at her confused, “You’re laughing at me? Seriously, Kafka?”
“No — it’s just… have you even attempted to tell her that you like her? Everything I ever see, you’re ignoring her, glaring at her when her back is turned, and badmouthing her whenever you’re alone with her and she’s patching you up. It hurts her, Bladie. I refuse to believe that you think you’ve made your feelings clear,” she replied.
Blade blinked in confusion. “But I like her. I don’t treat anyone differently than that.”
“Are you even aware of how many people think we’re dating?” Kafka asked him. “I’m sure she thinks we’re dating, too. She probably gave up and moved on with that rookie.”
“Gave up? Does she like me too?” Blade asked quickly, feeling a slight glimmer of hope. Kafka shrugged, “It’s so obvious. She definitely gave up trying since you made no effort to show you were interested.”
“Well — help me out, what am I supposed to do now? Did I fuck up already and lose her to that damn rookie?” he asked her.
Kafka sighed, sitting back against the couch. “I don’t know. I’d recommend asking her tomorrow and just pray that you have a chance still. I know you really like her.”
Blade grumbled at this and nodded, grasping at his shirt and sliding it back on over his head now that Kafka had finished bandaging him up.
“Yeah, well. I don’t know if I’m that lucky. She was kissing him and seemed to be very happy with it,” he said with a bitter tone. “Thanks.”
“If it comes to it, I can always pull strings and check with Elio-“
“No,” he said firmly, standing up to leave. “I don’t want to know the answer.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
The next day sometime after lunch, Blade headed to the cafeteria with his heart pounding. He had never felt this anxious before, not for a long, long time.
Just tell her you like her. She’s just confused, that’s all. It’ll be fine…
He saw you sitting alone at one of the cafeteria benches, obviously on your lunch break. He took in a breath and walked over, sitting across from you.
You looked up from your data pad and smiled, “Hi, Blade. Did you need me to fix your bandages already?” you asked sweetly.
He was embarrassed that he felt his cheeks burn from the kindness in your voice. “No. That won’t be necessary. Kafka fixed them last night.”
Your smile visibly fell a bit and Blade cringed at himself. “Oh, Kafka… right. Well, what did you need?”
“I’m not with Kafka,” he said quickly. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea?” you raised a brow, curious as to where he was going. “Wrong idea about… you and Kafka?” you muttered. He could sense a bit of irritancy on your end at the thought of them together.
“Right. We’re not. But… you and that Rookie. Leon, right? Are you?” he questioned. You seemed surprised that he asked and you let out a soft nervous laugh, “W-well, no… but. I mean, it’s complicated, I guess.” you took a sip of your drink as Blade tensed up.
“I want us to be, because the guy I like really, really doesn’t like me. So I’m just cutting my losses and trying to move on, I guess. It just so happens Leon has an interest in me. I’m just anxious to make the jump,” you confessed. There was no way he’d figure out it was him, so you felt comfortable saying it.
“Don’t,” Blade quickly said. “Don’t date Leon.” You furrowed your brows at him, “I’m sorry, why do you care? As far as I’m aware, you hate being around me. Quite frankly, I’m shocked you’re even speaking to me right now.”
Blade felt offended that you believed so strongly that he hated you. “You think I hate you? Why the hell do you think that?” he questioned.
“Because you’re always so cold and closed off towards me! You always are grumpy whenever you have to speak to me and have me work on you, you’re closed off and never speak to me unless you absolutely have to, and it honestly hurts! I don’t know why you treat me this way, but I’m tired of it.”
Blade felt like a total idiot hearing you open up like that. Kafka really was right…
“I don’t… I don’t hate you,” he said quietly, averting his eyes out of embarrassment. “I like you, Y/n. I just had no idea how to deal with it. I figured you’d just… know.”
You couldn’t help your eyes widen at his confession. “You mean to tell me this entire time I’ve been trying to get over you, you just assumed I knew you liked me?” you gawked.
“Yes?” Blade replied. It was so obvious that he was so, so bad at relationships but clearly was trying hard. You could only giggle at this, shaking your head. “Jesus, Blade, you’re really something, aren’t you?”
Blade wasn’t really so sure how to answer your comment. You started to smile, “So, since you don’t want me to go out with Leon… I’m assuming you want to take me out on a date instead, right?” you asked.
Blade felt his cheeks flush again as he nodded, “I would love to.”
You smiled and stood up, walking over to him and leaning in. “I get off of work in 4 hours. Meet me at my room at 6, okay?” you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
You were shocked to see the man actually blush at your action. He looked up at you with a smile and nodded, “…Okay. I’ll see you at 6.”
#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#blade x reader#yingxing#blade hsr#blade x reader hsr#yingxing x reader#masterlist
421 notes
·
View notes
Text
I swear to God, Twitter being able to accumulate so many brain-dead, malicious, pseudo intellectual low lives all in one place at the same time is a phenomenon worthy of being studied under a microscope in a science lab. And no, that is not a compliment.
Thankfully people have already spoken out against this bullshit-- the fact that people needed to is already maddening to think about-- but as someone who got the basic gist of what happened literally yesterday I'll also put my voice out there: Don't you fucking dare try to paint Hbomb as a murderer over this situation.
Somerton may be a lying, misogynistic plagiarist and conman, but he obviously doesn't deserve to die and while I do make fun of the guy, I genuinely hope that he continues to have a life after the dust has settled on everything. Not on YouTube or any social media platform for a long time at least, but just a life nontheless. I don't wish what he's potentially going through on anyone, and I hope that he makes it through this. But regardless of if he does or doesn't-- and God forbid he doesn't-- none of this is Hbomb's fault. It's not his fault, or Kat's fault, or Jessie's fault (because apparently there's people blaming her too cuz WHY NOT), or anybody's fault. All they did was call out his actions, hold him accountable for the harm he's done. They have done nothing to deserve having to carry this on their shoulders should the worst happen. They did nothing wrong. They didn't kill James (he's not confirmed dead yet either btw). They are not murderers. And to the people saying they are: say those words out loud, listen how they sound like, and re-evaluate. Just cease.
And to people like this:
''Oh I'm not blaming him for anything I'm just blaming him for what his audience did because according to HIM you're responsible for your audience'' Yeah, you people can shut your mouths too. Of course you're responsible for your audience, and that includes Hbomb too. However, your tiny, godless little monkey brain can't see why your argument is still rubbish even with that in mind. The difference between James, Internet Historian and Hbomb is that Hbomb never promoted problematic behaviour to his audience. If you promote problematic shit like harassment or misogyny or racism, then yeah, you're absolutely responsible for how your behaviour influences your audience. But that's not what he did. He made it very clear where he stood on those things, literally stating that ''if anyone were to harass Somerton on his behalf they are worse than him and will not see the light of heaven''. He's done his part in making it clear that harassment is wrong, so if someone went out of their way to go against that and harass James anyway that doesn't reflecf on him at all. Also, what the hell do you mean ''hatemobbed'' to suicide? I don't doubt there are people who went to extremes because those bad apples always exist, but most of the things I've seen are valid critisisms, memes and call outs about that guy. If holding people accountable for their actions and poking fun at them a little counts as 'hatemobbing'' (which has Filip calling his critics a ''lynch mob'' energy tbh) what the hell do you call actual hatemobbing then? Do we just let people continue being shitty because calling them out ''damages their mental health'' or ''drives them to suicide'' then? Is that a world you want to live in?
Same thing goes for people like this:
Criticing someone for their objectively bullshit content and wanting them dead are two seperate things. What the actual hell is wrong with you. The plagiarist in question is a person. Those ''harshest critics'' are still people. And because we're people, we care. I'd rather James pump out more plagiarised slop than commit suicide. I'd still hate him for it, but I'd prefer him being alive over the alternative any day. We all do. None of us would sleep easier knowing he's dead just because he wouldn't be ''committing the cardinal sin of putting out a 'pure content mill' video'' because someone taking their own life is horrific-- especially Hbomberguy, how dare you even try to imply that?
And this gets me to the reason I'm furiously typing all this out in the first place: Hbomb is the fucking victim here, so stop treating him like he isn't. He tried making things as right as possible by compensating those that were burned by James through a video where he revealed everything there needs to be known about the guy so that less people fall victim to his actions and lies. To just ignore the harm James was causing while he had the evidence to prove it and platform too big to threaten into non existence should he speak out would've been bad. So he didn't. He did the right thing by sticking with the people James had stolen from, giving them a voice and making them known after they've been scrubbed from the picture by decidedly being uncredited for their works or bullied into silence. He shouldn't have to deal with this for doing the right thing. He shouldn't be labelled a murderer for doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to have the death of a man on his conscience for doing the right thing. People claiming otherwise are obviously wrong, but I can't imagine what all this must feel like right now. Because even tho they're wrong, guilt isn't a rational thing, and I know that if I were in his position I'd still feel like a morally bankrupt individual were the worst to happen even if I knew that it was not my fault. This isn't a funny story. So to add to this dumpsterfire by using it as a prop to bash on a creator you don't like and immediately write Somerton off as dead even when he's not even been confirmed dead yet to do that shows how little these people actually care about the thing they're talking about. They don't care a guy potentially killed himself-- what they care about is using it to paint Hbomb in a bad light because they don't like him. Here they are, posting memes and ill jokes about this very delicate situation while barely a day since the news broke out had passed. It's opportunistic, it's sickening, and literally the exact thing he criticised in his video when talking about 'content mills'. Like, I know none of these clowns bothered to actually watch it, but have some self-awareness. And some shame too, while you're at it.
This long story short: I'm writing this to contribute to the narrative not getting twisted to make Hbomb out to be the villian. Same goes for everyone else. Don't let these people paint them as the villians. If I see another person pull this shit again I will literally bite you and shred you into salad and spit you back out because I hate you so much and I mean that wholeheartedly.
To Hbomb: you will never see this but if you do, take care of yourself.
To the asshats this post is about: Delete your account. Cease all together. Stop talking about this. Just leave him the fuck alone.
#hbomberguy#james somerton#this post took me ages to finish and really grinds my gears#i would not survive on that hellscape with people like this holy shit#really hope this situation turns out for the best#i wrote this while i was frustrated and sleep deprived so apologies for unnoticed grammar i'll correct it later#i'll be keeping my eyes peeled for any updates on this situation this is actually getting scary
161 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
3rdtriton
ᵘⁿ 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 .
itsziabd
Untitled
aso2es
Lazy Ass
anotherdamn-romantic
Untitled
raycinnamonrollpalmer
keeping duh