#others might have different things going on too that i don't know
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He Hates Me, Doesn't He?
A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.
Summary: You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.
Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader
Words: 6.7k++
Warnings: angstyyyyyyyyy, but with happy ending because I cannot live in agony. miscommunication galore. 'I want to strangle bucky's girlfriend.' soft reader, cold/mean bucky. bucky should've grovel more. horrible attempt of writing verbal arguments. nothing much but pain.
Inspiration: I remember reading a bucky fic years ago and I like the pain that it caused me to feel. Idk why the pain suddenly came back to me lately. So, this is my take on the same idea. I haven't able to find it. But when I do, I'll reblog it in my another acc!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
y/n had always been a steady presence in the Avengers, known for her gentle demeanour and unwavering support. Her relationship with Bucky Barnes had blossomed from a quiet friendship into something deeper. When they first met, Bucky was reserved and hesitant, still grappling with his past as the Winter Soldier. y/n, with her gentle nature and patient understanding, slowly helped him come out of his shell.
She remembered the sleepless nights they spent together when they were on the run with Steve and Sam. They'd share stories, and sometimes just sit in silence, her quiet company offering solace to Bucky's restless mind. The unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day. Bucky looked up to her, finding comfort in her presence, and in turn, he became fiercely protective of her. They'd watch each other's backs during missions, their synergy on the battlefield a testament to their deep connection.
And somewhere along the line, she fell for him. She had fallen for Bucky's resilience and vulnerability, though she never expected more, knowing that a relationship was not what he needed right now. At least, that's what she thought. Little did she know, Bucky had always loved her; ever since the day she offered him tea the first night they were on the run to Wakanda. Maybe she was just simply aloof, or maybe Bucky’s flirting skills weren’t translated the way he wanted, but they never crossed the line between friendship and ‘something more’.
Then when Jen came into the picture, it felt like things started to change. Jen was bold and confident, and it wasn't long before she caught Bucky's eye. Their relationship seemed to spring up overnight, and y/n, though hurt, tried to be happy for Bucky. Jen was supportive and caring, or so it seemed, and Bucky deserved happiness.
Now, as planned the team was instructed to moved into the Avenger compound for a few months to train new recruits. It had only been the first month but surely it was jam packed with endless of rigorous training sessions. The original team—y/n, Sam, Bucky, Jen, Clint, and his mentee Kate Bishop—were all assigned to train the new recruits, with additional of few agents from different branches coming in to help out.
y/n was heading to the training room; she knew it was way too early but she thought that if she didn’t get out of bed now, she might not even get up at all. To her surprise, she was not the first one. She saw a few new trainees were already on the way to the training room; some of them greeted her a good morning. She simply smiled at their enthusiasm.
The moment she entered the area, she overheard voices coming from the corner of the room. She paused, recognizing Jen's voice, which was raised and laced with contempt. Curiosity piqued, y/n stepped closer, staying just out of sight behind the white board. In hindsight, it might seem weird that she was sneaking around to eavesdrop on Jen, but she couldn't help it.
Initially, y/n liked Jen. She tried to welcome her into their tight-knit group and even supported her relationship with Bucky. However, as time went on, Jen began acting strange. The things she said about Bucky sometimes sounded condescending. She would make comments like, "It's amazing how well he's adjusted, considering his past," or, "It's great that he's trying so hard to be normal." The way she acted often differed from her words, with Jen giving Bucky disapproving glances or sighing heavily whenever he mentioned something from his troubled past.
She had noticed these discrepancies and started to feel uneasy around Jen. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jen’s support was just a facade. Now, standing behind the whiteboard, she strained to hear the conversation.
"…and honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can trust him," Jen was saying. "I mean, sure, he's got that whole 'reformed hero' thing going on now, but let’s be real. He was Hydra’s pet assassin for decades. The things he’s done? It’s unforgivable."
Her friend, another agent from a different branch, nodded hesitantly. "But you’re dating him, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you trust him?"
Jen laughed, a cold, humourless sound. "Dating him? Please. I’m in it for the fame and the perks. Have you seen the way people look at us? Besides, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But trust him? Never. People like him don’t change. They’re broken. He's a monster, and he always will be. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps again."
y/n felt a surge of anger rise within her. How dare Jen talk about Bucky like that?
Memories flooded her mind, flashing back to Bucky’s nightmare-plagued nights. She remembered the prominent dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that never quite left his face. The silent pain he endured, adjusting to a modern world where he felt like an outsider, magnified when Steve left. She could still see the wary, suspicious glances people cast in his direction, the whispers behind his back when they first ventured out. Before the fame he acquired as he regained his reputation after the Flag-Smasher incident.
She had witnessed his hardships firsthand—the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, the moments of crippling doubt and self-loathing. But she had also seen his triumphs, the small victories that slowly built his confidence. The first time he laughed freely in her presence, the genuine smile that lit up his face when he finally allowed himself to relax. She cherished those moments, the sunshine that broke through the clouds of his tortured past.
All of this came rushing back, breaking the chains on the Pandora's box inside of her. The fury she felt wasn't just for the disrespect to Bucky; it was for every ounce of pain he had suffered, every moment of joy he had fought so hard to reclaim. Her eyes hardened with resolve as she stepped forward, her voice steady but cold. "Take that back," she demanded, her presence startling both Jen and her friend.
Jen turned slowly, a smirk spreading across her face as she saw y/n. She knew from the beginning about the cute little crush y/n had on Bucky. To be frank, everybody sort of knew about it, except for Bucky somehow.
"Or else what, y/n?" she replied with a mocking tone. "You’re quite pathetic aren’t you? You think that I can’t see how you’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all this time? Come on, now. Backing him up would not give you a leeway into his pants, y/n."
y/n’s face went through a range of emotions—shock, embarrassment, and then seething anger. Jen’s words were like poison, each one landing like a punch to the gut.
Jen continued, confidence oozing out of her cocky demeanor, "Besides, we all know that I can easily beat you in a fight, doll"
The use of doll—a nickname Bucky had given y/n from day one, when Steve had quite literally kidnapped Bucky from the government—made y/n blood boil. Hearing it from Jen felt like a personal attack, a deliberate attempt to undermine everything she shared with Bucky.
And it was true that Jen had graduated top of her batch from the Avengers program and had countless successful missions under her belt, but y/n knew this wasn't about accolades or abilities. This was about something deeper, something more personal.
y/n clenched her fists, taking a step closer. "You think this is about who can fight better?" she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "This is about respect. You don’t get to talk about Bucky like that."
Jen scoffed, a cruel smile on her lips. "Respect? For that monster? You’re delusional. He’s a ticking time bomb, a liability to the team. And deep down, everyone knows it."
y/n’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, she slapped Jen hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Jen stumbled and fell to the ground, shock and anger flashing across her features.
She stalks forward like a predator cornering its prey, "I’m just done with your lies and your insults. Bucky deserves better than you." Jen instinctively crawled backwards towards the centre of the room. Seeing that she got the attention of the few new recruits she regained her composure, smirked again, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "You’re pathetic, y/n," she taunted. "Defending a lost cause." her voice was loud enough for y/n to hear but quiet enough that the others might not be able to decipher her words.
At that moment, Bucky and Sam burst into the room, followed closely behind by a new recruit who alerted them of the incident. Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in the scene—Jen on the ground, y/n standing over her, shaking with rage. "What’s going on here?" His demand was completely ignored as y/n’s mind was hyper-focused on the wrath bubbling within her.
"Get up," y/n demanded, her voice shaking with wrath. Bucky’s momentarily froze as he watched the confrontation escalate before him. y/n, usually so composed, was now a whirlwind of rage, her eyes blazing as she stood over a trembling Jen. Bucky had always known her to be fierce in battle, but this was different—this was raw, unbridled anger. "I'm going to make you regret every word you said. So get on your fucking feet before I rip it off you.."
Jen, still on the ground, looked up at y/n with wide, teary eyes, playing the role of the victim to perfection. "Please, I didn't– I don’t know what you're…," she whimpered, casting a fearful glance at Bucky and Sam, who had just arrived on the scene.
Bucky's mind raced. Why was she doing this? He stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "y/n, hey!" he shouted, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"
Completely ignoring him, "Get up," y/n snarled, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Get up and fight me. I’ll show you who the real monster is." Jen looked up, her hand on her cheek, disbelief mingling with her fury. "You’re crazy," she spat, scrambling to her feet.
Her response was only a furious shout. "I said, get up!"
"y/n, are you crazy?!" Bucky yelled, moving quickly to intervene. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving.
She turned her fierce gaze towards Bucky; her expression momentarily faltering at the hurt in his eyes. "Bucky, you don’t understand, she--" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw Jen's smirk flicker for just a second.
"There's nothing to understand," Bucky snapped. "You’re acting insane."
y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and frustration. "Bucky, you have to listen—"
But he cut her off, his expression hard. "I don’t care! You hurt her, y/n. You think I don’t see that bruise on her cheek?!" Bucky shouted, his face contorted with anger. His eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth when he looked at y/n, were now blazing with fury. "This isn’t like you, y/n. I’ve noticed that you’ve never liked Jen, and I don’t know why. But this? This is just immature and reckless." His metal grip on y/n's wrist was tighter than he intended. She winced, her eyes watering not just from the pain but from the sting of his words.
y/n had never seen Bucky like this. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves. It was like being hit with a physical force, and she felt her heart breaking under the weight of it. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her anger flaring even hotter. "Bucky, you don’t understand," she tried to explain, but the words caught in her throat.
Bucky’s expression remained hard, the force on her wrist tightening painfully. "You need to grow up, y/n," he seethed, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You're always causing drama lately, and it needs to stop. Jen’s been there for me in ways you haven’t, and I won’t tolerate you attacking her like this."
The words cut through her like a knife. Her heart shattered at his harshness, at the realization that Bucky thought so little of her. She yanked her wrist free, feeling the sting of his grip lingering. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Believe what you want."
Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Bucky standing there, torn between confusion and guilt.
A gnawing sense of remorse tugging at him, but he couldn't shake the confusion and anger clouding his mind. "Jen, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.
Jen, tucking herself to his side, managed to summon a few tears, looking up at Bucky with a feigned innocence. "I don’t know why she hates me so much," she murmured, playing her part perfectly.
Bucky fingers softly traces on her wounded cheek before his gaze switched to y/n’s retreating form, a knot tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure why those mean words had spouted out of his lips. Was it because he saw Jen injured on the ground and his protective instincts kicked in? Or was it because Jen had been whispering doubts in his ear about y/n’s loyalty, making him question his longtime friend?
The truth was, Bucky had always relied on y/n’s unwavering support. She had been his rock through the toughest times, and seeing her so furious, so hurt, shook him to his core. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he had lashed out, unable to reconcile the image of Jen crying with the fierce anger that radiated from y/n.
As Bucky comforted Jen, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the image of hurt on her face, nor could he ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.
On the side, Sam was only able to watch the scene play out silently, a frown creasing his brow. He had a feeling there was more to this story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.
As weeks passed, the rift between Bucky and y/n deepened, fueled by Jen's cunning manipulation. In a private conversation, Jen planted seeds of doubt in Bucky's mind, suggesting that y/n harboured hidden resentments and intentions.
"I hate to say it, Bucky, but maybe she's not who we thought she was," Jen insinuated, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe she's been hiding her true feelings all along, waiting for the right moment to strike."
Bucky, already vulnerable and confused after the incident in the training room, absorbed Jen's words like poison, allowing them to fester and take root in his mind. He began to view y/n through a new lens, one tainted by suspicion and distrust. This single conversation, filled with subtle manipulations and insidious suggestions, was all it took to fracture the bond between Bucky and y/n, leaving Bucky cold and distant towards the one person who had always stood by his side.
Most days he would avoid eye contact with her during team meetings, barely acknowledging her presence when they were forced to interact. In training sessions, his instructions to her were curt and clipped, lacking the warmth and camaraderie they once shared. y/n felt each of these interactions like a stab to the heart.
She couldn't understand how quickly Bucky had turned against her, how easily he had accepted Jen's version of events without even giving her a chance to explain. The hurt festered inside her, eating away at her sense of self-worth.
Then one night, as y/n sat alone on the rooftop, staring out into the darkness, Sam found her there. He knew this was where she retreated when she needed space to think, to process her emotions. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her without a word.
"Why aren't you at dinner, y/n?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence. He could see the emptiness in her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her.
She shook her head, her voice hollow. "Lost my appetite," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.
Sam gently prodded, knowing there was more to her withdrawal than just a lack of hunger. "Is it because of what happened the other day at the training room?" he asked softly.
Instantly, her demeanor shifted. Anger flared in her eyes, directed not just at Jen and Bucky, but at the entire situation. "I don't want to talk about it, Sam," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, especially when he knew how much y/n was hurting. "Come on, y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. "You can't keep bottling this up. Talk to me."
Her expression softened slightly at Sam's persistence, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. "Seriously, Sam, please just drop it," she pleaded, her voice wavering with emotion.
Sam could see the cracks forming in her facade, the vulnerability seeping through the tough exterior she usually projected. Without a word, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her bury her face against his shoulder.
As she clung to him, her facade finally crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak. "Bucky hates me."
Sam held her tighter, offering silent comfort as she grappled with the weight of her sorrow. He knew there were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend the shattered pieces of y/n's heart. But in that moment, all he could do was be there for her, a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.
The dim glow of the kitchen's overhead light provided a faint sense of solace in the otherwise silent darkness of the compound. Bucky sat at the wooden table, his tired eyes staring blankly at the cup of untouched tea before him. It was a nightly ritual lately, this dance with sleeplessness and the haunting memories that lurked in the shadows of his mind yet again.
Footsteps broke the stillness, and Bucky's gaze shifted to the entrance of the kitchen. y/n stood hesitantly in the doorway, her presence casting a tentative aura over the room. There was a palpable tension between them, an unspoken weight that hung heavy in the air.
She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was expecting Bucky to ignore her completely but he didn’t; Bucky simply shrugged nonchalantly, his guard seemed to flatter. "Suit yourself," he muttered.
As she quietly took a seat opposite him, a heavy silence settled between them. Bucky's thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions, each one vying for dominance over the others. His guard seemed to falter in the presence of her tentative yet comforting aura. The weight of his own vulnerability loomed large in his mind, drowning out the anger he had harboured towards her.
As the silence stretched between them, she felt a surge of compassion wash over her. She knew why he was awake at this time. She knew that the tea he brewed was to help him sleep. She was the one who planted that habit to him after all.
And despite everything that had transpired between them, she couldn't bear to see Bucky suffer alone. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she decided to reach out to him, to offer what little comfort she could.
Without a word, y/n rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Bucky's chair. He stiffened at her touch, his muscles tense with apprehension. But as her gentle hands began to massage the tension from his neck, a wave of unexpected relief washed over him.
Her touch was soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to due to Jen’s unwillingness to acknowledge this side of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to relax, to let go of the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, Bucky allowed himself to forget the walls he had built around his heart. In her presence, her voice, and her touch; he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth that he had long since forgotten.
But then, like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a fragile flame, the weight of Jen's words came crashing back down upon him. Anger flared within him, hot and fierce, directed not only at y/n but at himself for allowing his heart to yearn for her.
He pushed himself away from the table, his movements sharp and abrupt. "I don't need your pity, y/n," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "Just leave me alone."
With that, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving y/n alone in the suffocating silence.The disbelief that clouded her thoughts gave way to a searing agony that twisted in her chest. How could he say such things? How could he push her away so callously, after everything they had shared?
y/n buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The weight of her shattered dreams pressed down on her, crushing her spirit beneath its merciless grip. She had never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by the one person she had trusted above all others.
The pain of losing Bucky, of losing the love that had sustained her through the darkest of times, threatened to consume her whole. Each breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled her soul.
In that moment of crushing despair, she couldn't help but believe that Bucky truly hated her. The thought tore through her like a knife, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that no amount of time or distance could ever hope to heal.
As she sat alone in the suffocating silence of the kitchen, y/n felt the full weight of her heartbreak descend upon her like a tidal wave. She was lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, drowning in the agony of losing someone she had loved so deeply, so completely. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to the surface again.
Unbeknownst to her, Bucky lingered just out of sight, his heart heavy with guilt. He wanted to go back, to take back his harsh words and hold her close, to chase away the tears that stained her cheeks. But the poison in his mind was too strong, clouding his judgement and trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive despair. And so, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to cry alone in the darkness.
The mission had already been tense enough, but as y/n found herself face to face with Jen in a location she wasn't supposed to be, the atmosphere crackled with an added layer of hostility. It was as if fate had conspired to place them in this confrontation, and her jaw clenched involuntarily as she braced herself for what was to come.
Jen's presence in that spot was no coincidence, and she knew it. Her suspicions were confirmed as Jen turned to face her, a smirk playing on her lips, a gleam of malice in her eyes. y/n's grip tightened on her weapon, her pulse quickening as she prepared for the verbal assault she knew was coming.
"How does it feel, knowing that Bucky hates you now?" Jen's words sliced through the air like a knife, each syllable carrying the weight of y/n’s deepest fears. It was a direct hit, striking at the core of her insecurities, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet.
But she refused to let Jen see her falter. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Jen's gaze head-on, her expression a mask of defiance. She may have been shaken by Jen's words, but she refused to let them break her.
Ignoring the taunts, she focused on the mission at hand, determined to prove her worth despite Jen's attempts to undermine her. But with each passing moment, the weight of Jen's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over y/n’s every move.
It was a battle on two fronts – against the enemy they faced together, and against the doubts that threatened to consume her from within. But she refused to back down, drawing strength from the knowledge that she fought not just for herself, but for the team she believed in with all her heart.
But Jen's relentless barrage of insults made it difficult to concentrate, her words like daggers slicing through y/n’s defenses.
"Aww come on y/n, bet you’re reeling in the loss right now, aren’t you." Jen continued, her voice ice cold. "The Asset’s little lapdog, clinging to him like a lost puppy."
y/n’s temper flared at the insult, her grip tightening on her weapon as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Jen's mocking laughter only fueled the fire burning within her, pushing her to the brink of her patience. "Shut your mouth, Jen," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Or I swear to God, I'll make sure that the team finds your body disassembled in one of these rooms."
Jen simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by her threat. "You love him that much, huh?" y/n had no intention to deny that fact; she does love him, "More than you ever could." her voice was firm and true. Jen’s smirk fell as she scoffed. "Ain't that cute, the Winter Soldier and his little psycho sweetheart."
Before y/n could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, freezing her in place. It was Bucky, his expression dark and stormy as he stepped into view. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in the scene before him.
y/n’s heart sank as she realized that Bucky might have heard everything. She turned around to meet his eyes and his face confirmed her suspicion; he heard it. Bucky had heard everything – every taunt, every insult, every word exchanged between her and Jen; even the confession of her true feelings. She met his gaze; searching for some sign of understanding of his emotions and the little that she saw was: disappointment, betrayal and guilt, mirrored back at her in the depths of his stormy blue eyes.
In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, to pull him away from all the painful memories and hurtful words; so far away that he would forget he had ever been taunted, betrayed, or made to feel less than he was.
Before she could utter a word, let alone take a step towards him, Jen's voice broke through, but it lacked the usual confidence. "Bucky, it's not what you think," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between Bucky and y/n. "I-I was just..."
y/n’s clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin as Jen stumbled over her words, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. She could see the confusion and hurt in Bucky's eyes, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her own heart.
"I-I mean," Jen continued, her voice faltering. "I was...um...just trying to...uh..."
But her feeble attempts to justify her actions only served to further incense Bucky. His brow furrowed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to make sense of the situation.
"Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more lies."
y/n’s heart ached as she watched Bucky's expression darken with anger and disappointment. She wanted to explain, to tell him the truth about Jen's betrayal and her own misguided attempt to defend him. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her guilt and regret.
With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned away, his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Let's just finish the mission," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We'll deal with this later."
As he was about to walk away, y/n noticed a red dot on his chest, the unmistakable mark of a sniper's laser sight. Without thinking twice, she leaped towards him, her body acting as a human shield. Time seemed to slow down as she collided with Bucky, pushing him out of the way.
"y/n, no!" Bucky shouted, his voice filled with panic as her body slumped against his chest.
In the chaos, Jen was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped away, taking shelter and ultimately fleeing the area as she heard multiple footsteps approaching.
Bucky tried to pull up his gun, but it was too late. An array of bullets rained down on them. He felt the searing pain of a few shots piercing his own flesh, but it was nothing compared to the sight of y/n’s body being riddled with bullets. She was hit in the shoulder, wrist, thighs, and other places Bucky couldn't even register.
Rage surged through Bucky like an inferno, obliterating any semblance of restraint. He moved with a deadly precision, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. His movements were swift and unforgiving, every shot finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The enemy fell one by one, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder, but Bucky's focus was unyielding.
Within moments, the room was cleared, the enemies wiped out in a flurry of rage-fueled vengeance.
The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Bucky standing amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He turned, and his eyes fell on y/n's crumpled form. The sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood shattered his rage, replacing it with a crushing wave of worry and panic.
"Hang in there. Please," Bucky hastily spoke, his voice trembling. He activated his com line, desperation seeping into his tone. "Guys, we need help. y/n... she's... she's been shot. We need to get out of here right now!" Panic coursed through him as he turned his attention back to y/n, frantically trying to stop the bleeding on her stomach. "y/n, doll…please" he pleaded, watching her hazy gaze. "Don't you dare give up on me now. Come on."
"babydoll, stay with me!" Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining his hands. "Please, hang on, you can’t leave yet. I haven't told you... I haven't—"
Her eyes fluttered open, her breathing shallow and ragged. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "It's okay. Don't cry." Her shaking hands struggled to move, and with great effort, she managed to cup Bucky's cheek. The gesture was weak but filled with tenderness. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers trembling against his skin.
"Don't talk like that," Bucky choked out, his own tears mingling with the blood on his face. "You can't.. I haven't told you...please doll..." His voice wavered with the weight of unspoken words and unconfessed feelings. He hadn't told her how much he truly cared for her, how every moment spent away from her felt like an eternity. He hadn't begged for forgiveness for his coldness, his mistakes, and for letting Jen's poison taint his actions. The guilt gnawed at him, each heartbeat a reminder of the words he hadn't said, the emotions he hadn't expressed.
He pressed her hand harder against his cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch anchoring him in the moment.Her hand weakly brushing against his cheek. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know."
Bucky's heart shattered as he clung to her, feeling her life slipping away. "No, no, no," he muttered desperately. "You can't leave me. Please, y/n. Please."
She smiled faintly, her eyes closing. "I'm here, Bucky. I'm right here."
With a final, shuddering breath, y/n’s consciousness slipped away. Bucky felt a surge of panic, but he knew he had to move. He lifted her limp body, cradling her against his chest as he ran towards the quinjet. Each step was agony, his own injuries slowing him down, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting y/n to safety.
"Hang on, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hang on. I won't let you go."
In the sterile environment of the medical bay, y/n lay unconscious, her body hooked up to various machines that monitored her vital signs. Bucky sat by her bedside, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Every beep of the monitor seemed to echo through the silence, a haunting reminder of her fragile state. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her bandaged wrist.
Memories of their time together flooded Bucky's mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. He remembered the gentle touch of her hand, the warmth of her smile that never failed to chase away the darkness.
But amidst the memories, there was also pain – the pain of their last conversation, the words left unsaid and the choices left unmade. Bucky's throat tightened as he recalled the day he had walked away from Jen, the air thick with tension and unspoken truths.
His voice was cold and final. "You almost got her killed, Jen," he had said, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stay away from us. Stay away from me."
Jen's eyes had flashed with anger, her words cutting like knives as she lashed out in frustration. "And what, you think you'll find someone better than me?" she had spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Good luck with that, Bucky. You'll never find anyone who would put up with your baggage."
But Bucky had remained resolute, his decision fueled by a sense of longing and regret that threatened to consume him whole. "Maybe not," he had admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't truly care about me."
Now, as Bucky sat by y/n’s bedside, the weight of his decision bore down on him like a crushing weight. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers trembling with emotion.
"I'm so sorry, babydoll," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I never meant for any of this to happen. So, please, wake up. I need you."
But y/n remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak as she lay before him. And as Bucky watched over her, his heart heavy with worry and regret, he vowed to do whatever it took to bring her back to him, to keep her safe from harm for all eternity.
For in that moment, Bucky realized that he couldn't bear to lose her – not now, not ever. She was his rock, his anchor in a world of uncertainty and pain. And as he held her hand tightly in his own, he prayed with all his heart that she would find her way back to him, to the love and light that had always guided them through the darkness.
The soft hum of machines filled the air as y/n stirred awake, her senses slowly coming back to her. She blinked, disoriented at first, until her gaze fell upon Bucky, who was sleeping soundly in the chair beside her bed. His hands were clasped tightly around hers, his face peaceful in slumber, but she couldn't help but notice the tear stains on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines etched into his forehead.
"How long has it been since?" she wondered to herself, her heart aching at the sight of Bucky's exhausted form. She carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as she lovingly examined his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips.
Bucky groaned as his sleep was interrupted, muttering something about Sam needs to leave him be; before he abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hi there," y/n greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with affection as she watched Bucky's reaction.
For a moment, Bucky seemed unable to comprehend that she was finally awake. His eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. But then the realization hit him, and he threw himself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as if she were the most precious thing in the world .Despite the pain that shot through her body, she managed to let out a soft chuckle, returning his embrace with equal fervor. The warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering chill of unconsciousness, and for a moment, everything felt right.
"y/n..." Bucky breathed into her neck, his voice trembling with emotion. She hummed in response, her heart swelling for him. "Hmmm?"
Not wanting to let go of her, Bucky called her name once again, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "y/n-..." She paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she whispered in his ear, "Yes, Bucky?"
Bucky tightened his grip, his breath hitching in his throat as he buried his face in her shoulder. y/n gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "I'm here, sweetheart." The scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth against him—it all felt overwhelming. Emotions churned inside him like a tempest. Relief, guilt, love, and fear battled for dominance, leaving him raw and exposed.
She gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere.
Bucky's mind raced, images of the past few weeks flashing before his eyes. He remembered the coldness with which he'd treated her, the cruel words that had slipped from his lips, fueled by Jen's poison. He thought of the sleepless nights, the nightmares that had gripped him, and the aching void he'd felt every time he saw y/n’s hurt expression.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "For everything. For not believing you. For pushing you away."
Reluctantly, she pulled away, but not before wiping the tears from Bucky's cheeks and fighting the urge to place a tender kiss on his forehead. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the depth of his love and the pain he had endured for her sake. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home in his arms. Bucky took her hands in his own, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her wounded wrists. "This will never happen again. Ever," he vowed, his voice filled with determination.
Moved by his words, y/n felt her heart flutter with emotion. She realized in that moment that she could never stay angry at him, no matter what had transpired between them. She understood now that they were both at fault, both victims of circumstance and misunderstanding.
With a surge of courage, she reached out and pulled Bucky into a kiss. Her lips met his in a slow, passionate embrace, pouring all of her love and forgiveness into the tender gesture. It was a moment of connection, of healing, of reaffirming their bond despite the trials they had faced.
The taste of Bucky's lips was like a soothing salve to her soul; it was intoxicating. It felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. When they finally broke apart, Bucky whispered those three words that y/n had longed to hear, "I love you."
Her heart soared with joy, and she couldn't help but tease him, "Took you long enough." her teasing words met with a cheeky grin from Bucky. "I love you too, Bucky" she blinked slowly. As he whispered softly under his breath, "Come here," he pulled her back into the kiss, their lips meeting in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, they could weather any storm.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: I just needed to let this out lmao. It's been stuck in my head for several weeks. Thank you for spending your time reading this crap... honestly. Love you so much 🤍
#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#tfatws!bucky#bucky angst#bucky fluff
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Hi! I have a writing related question. I have a major problem finishing things, specifically the second half or last third. I'm a pantser, and have tried planning to help fix the issue, but it's just...not my style. I plan and it all changes anyway. This problem has been going on for a long time and by now I'm fairly sure the culprit is psychological/lack of confidence. I know logically this is a common occurrence and I likely just need to push through, but I simply can't do it, most of the time even with shorter works (I then feel worse about myself as a writer, which makes the problem worse, etc). I guess what I'm asking is, if you or anyone has been in this situation, and some general tips or words of wisdom lol. I know the issues, but still can't seem to fix it. It's affecting my ability to write and now I can't even start stories like I used to either. It's making me miserable. I love writing and want to have it "click" again; right now I just feel sort of broken, creatively speaking.
I'm not very fandom social but I do read this blog all the time, it's a gift. So helpful on so many different topics, and I felt comfortable finally reaching out here ♥️ Thank you for everything you do here
I think you know part of the issue. You know that you can't finish works and you know that planning doesn't help you. You think there might be a lack of confidence, but you don't seem all that certain about it.
I think you should dig in a bit more and see what the actual culprit is.
Are you worried that your writing is bad and will be poorly received?
Are you worried your story is too niche and no one will read it?
Are you worried that the things you write might lead to harassment or bullying of some kind?
What you'll notice about all of those things is that the worry is about how other people will react to what you've written. That's something that's completely out of your control.
To get back to the joy of writing, try writing something just for yourself, with no intention of posting it. See if that helps you get to the end. Often people who have issues with perfectionism or shame or anxiety will put off finishing projects because they want to avoid the judgement that comes after something is finished. If it's never done, no one will tell you that you did a bad job.
If you're like me, then planning is the opposite of helpful because as soon as the plan is in place, it feels like the story is already written. Instead, try working with a plotline that has lots of different ways that it can go. Make it into a kind of "choose your own adventure" but for you, the writer. As you get to each stage in the story, leave choices open so that you can go left or go right - but you can also go up or down or swing in a circle.
Refocus on the parts of writing that feel more like play than like work and do more of that. Reconnect with the joy of it. Then, when you actually like it again, you can figure out whether you actually still want to post your works and how you can deal with your worries then.
*hugs* it's a rough spot right now, anon, but I think you'll get through it. Let's see what advice the rest of the blog has to give.
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omg not me freaking out that i am part of the group that gets bait gifs! FRIENDS!!!!!!! i'm fine. i'm chill. don't leave me!
This took me a minute to figure out what I wanted Sir Dorksalot to have done that was sketchy enough to have him make this face...
Watch The Fish, Jake Jensen x reader headcanon wholeass fic in bullet format because my god this got long
Warnings for mentions of masturbation and porn, accidental then totally intentional voyeurism, awkward and oblivious!Jake--so just Jake, yeah?--and smutty implications...
🥹 roommates to lovers 😊
you rent a pretty large house maybe even with one or two others at first, but they move out
jake has to use it as a crashpad sometimes because he'll be away for so long at a time, but he pays rent and the entire electrical & internet bill no matter what
you keep a fish tank in the living room
after jake comes back from months in hiding abroad away, he gets so excited to be home and spend time with his niece that he hosts an after-game pizza party for her soccer team
someone practices headbutting the ball inside and nearly topples the tank
jake catches the whole thing with his broad arm-span and a decent amount of strength just in time when it wobbles the whole table beneath it. his heart nearly stopped, and he's so grateful the glass didn't break. thank god you weren't home.
however, you insist on moving the fish to your room instead once he tells you.
jake's a little sad to see them go. he pouts so much you decide to take pity on him, buying a web cam to mount beside the tank so jake can watch them whenever he wants. he loves to do voices for each one, personalities, soap-opera-like dramatic storylines, the works
as an aside you ask him if the sound can be turned off on the camera. jake says yeah but he mostly means he can turn it to mute on his computer.
which he does, for the record, but he has to remember to do it each time he pulls up the feed of da fishies. honestly, half the time he's wearing headphones and the other half you aren't home while he puts the Marauders (because there's just one fat one) onto his third monitor for background.
so he forgets that the sound is on and a thing he might need to avoid
weeks later, maybe months, jake finally removes his headphones after a very long stint of coding, completely unaware of what time it is and that you are home in your room
at first, jake is dead convinced that some porn ad has popped up in a window behind his work, something he would go apeshit about and ransomware bomb the shit out of whoever wrote such slippery spam
the fish are peaceful as ever, blooping away whilst jake frantically closes program after program trying to find the hot chick moaning on his desktop...until it's all closed and the buzzing remains though his tower's fan stopped...then the squelching noise starts
jake is frozen in place, looking away from the fish like they're the damn problem, but he doesn't cut the feed
he...he shouldn't
he should turn it off or just mute it like he promised
and he tries
he tries really hard, gang
it's the cursor's fault that it hits the command to send the audio to his bluetooth headphones instead of mute
and he sets the headphones down on the keyboard, gnawing on his bottom lip and watching his closed bedroom door in anticipation of...getting caught, maybe? he's not sure
he watches the fish putter around like it's no big deal
which it isn't, right?
you're human. he's human. humans have urges. they touch themselves--they touch each other, too--and there's no harm in that. if anything...jake encourages it, or he would...if you knew that he knew about this
the noises are so faint from the itty bitty speakers two feet from his face, but he doesn't pick them up, still debating what to do
because there's a big difference between what jake should do in this situation and what he wants to do
he mutes audio and then cuts off the livestream
at least, that's what he did the first time it happened
he knows he's a perv. jake can't help it.
it becomes a game of sorts. it's like practice recon for learning a target's routine. not that jake needs practice at the job he already fucking has but that's how his brain justifies laying on his own bed in the glow of the fish tank feed with his headphones turned way up
he knows your bed is on the other side of your room from when he moved the fish tank in
he knows what your underwear look like from the laundry room downstairs
he knows what you smell like from the shared bathroom and the products lining your shelf
he now knows there's a bottle of toy cleaner in one of your sink drawers
and he shouldn't but he absolutely touches himself listening to you, fists himself when you're fucking a toy he imagines six-shapes-to-Sunday, teases himself when all you're doing is breathing softly from across the whole house and he's cold and covered in cum by the end
to be fair, jake hates himself because of all this, but he is now mildly addicted
he doesn't even exit out of the livestream anymore. it just stays up on his monitor like a screensaver, but he doesn't realize that once he takes his headphones out of range, the audio transfers to his speakers again
so jake goes on a mission for a few days, and at some point while you are cleaning up your room, playing music, you find two pairs of jake's socks in your load of clean laundry and go to toss them in his room...where the same music you're listening to way down the hall is playing...in sync...
you're horrified and then embarrassed and then quickly realized it might mean nothing
you have to test if it means something
jake returns from his mission on complete autopilot
just so damn tired
throws down his duffle on top of some socks he doesn't remember leaving out and just hits the shower for a long, long time
he hasn't talked to you yet
he hasn't even seen you except your car is home and your door is shut
he goes about his business
the volume on his speakers isn't high but he hears you speaking and assumes you're on the phone
he pays it no mind. he is glad to be home, glad you're fine since he's just been in a part of the world where most people are not safe.
in a weird sort of way, he feels he's earned the mundane sort of comfort that comes from "the same ol'" of this house
he's wiped out, so he crawls into bed with his headphones immediately, hair barely toweled dry, not bothering with boxers because...why make more laundry?
and then the worst thing happens
there's a man's voice coming through his headphones, and jake scowls in frustration and rage
did you go and get a fucking boyfriend? in a couple of days? or goddamnit is this some tinder shit in his home right now?
but it only gets worse
he can hardly contain himself, what with the gagging sounds and this dude telling you to take it like the whore you are, and JAKE WILL LITERALLY BURN THIS PLACE DOWN
now his ass is putting on clothes
now his ass is ready to riot
the sex gets more and more degrading; spanking noises and even choking, but not in a seemingly consensual way, which is when jake rips his headphones off, storms down the hall and barrels straight through your bedroom door
where...you...aren't
no one is. no you. no man.
just your laptop sitting on your desk near the fish tank, playing the money shot of a porn video he was just listening to
get the fuck out. get out. get out. his brain screams, and he bolts
he makes it three feet before stopping short
you're standing at the top of the stairs, a bowl of ice cream in hand, licking the spoon unbelievably slowly with your whole tongue
you're fucked. you're fucked. you're fucked. his brain adds helpfully.
"hey, jakey," you say with a smile. "whatcha doing?"
A/N: this cat is officially my reaction to pretty much everything because...well...it's very accurate.
[Main Masterlist; Jake Jensen Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
#ro answers#jake jensen smut#jake jensen fanfiction#jake jensen x reader#jake jensen x you#jake jensen fic#essie what have you done????
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I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I
Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.
But he doesn't stay a stranger.
Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit / MDNI
Word count: 7k+
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added
AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist
notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!
this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.
Chapter 2 - The Patrol
‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story.
There is no other version of this story.’
- Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby
There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station.
Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.
“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.
“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”
“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”
Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?
He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.
It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy.
He would’ve missed it.
The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods.
Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”
It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.
He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.
Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.
He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.
***
The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.
The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.
“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.
Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.
It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.
Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”
She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”
Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.
“Is Lane not with you?”
You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.”
“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless.
“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.
“She's not at home either.”
An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”
You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.
“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”
“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always.
“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.
“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson.
You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.
“She went out a few times.”
“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.
“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.
“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly.
Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”
Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?”
She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”
“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?”
The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”
And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?
The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon.
You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.
if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3
#to dig a grave#joel miller / reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller / you#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller / original female character#joel miller / oc#joel miller#fanfic#fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us part 2#tommy miller#ellie williams#softpascalito#tlou#hurt/comfort#angst#smut#grief/mourning#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#joel / reader#joel x reader#chapter 2
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Soul Connection💙
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
'Love is too much glorified to ones dream
And quite petrified to savor it in life.........
Before you give up I want you to give in..
To your soul and find the other end of the
String that aches, arches, and embeds
you every night wondering i
If there is no one for me what is this
love mourning for then..?'
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Pick A Image
And let your heart guide you allow that feeling to stir out and take you in the message calling upon you ;
Image.1
Best Friends, Platonic, Caring, Values, Spouse, Wrong Place with the Right Person
Message : The soul of yours is on a journey, of self discovery be it understanding what you truly want and need as an soul through life of human, to knowing it later after many lessons down the line that makes you see all the wrong things first and then things awaits on you to be corrected,
The connection you have is a Platonic one in this lifetime above mentioned are the forms you might have already met them or they are quite close but there is a wall of strangeness in between or a veil of unknown who is yet to arrive they are important part of your journey this makes you sad to not love like others, settle like others, but you are not one of them right? You are here for different things..they would be one of your greatest chapters that makes you worth the go towards the next.
Even if there is a separation it will be quite endearing and worth it. Because they would still wish the best from afar for you.
'Maybe love was about a moment of relief for the one who was on a quest of the living'
- S ✍🏽☘️
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Image.2
Karmic Bond, Purpose, Intent, Contract, Redemption, Salvation
Message : The dreams can weigh at times to, even if things seems enraging you hold it well behind a smile that a moment of ignorance and you would disappear amidst of the crowd to find your corner, comfort, of space where you shed all your emotions into a flow of thoughts that keeps you under greys before it rains.
There is a ache in your abdominal or chest, or a heavy guilt of feeling sorry towards something I am not able to see what exactly as I see you even feel hard to speak up like two Gulps down you take and sigh of eye rolls you go after doing any kinds of talk, your soul has a karmic bond it can be anyone in your family, but I see more in your social and friends group maybe even a colleague or romantic person, there is so much gloom, blues, and black here, a contract of hurt has begun that needs to be redeemed by the one who did to set the other person free with that state of feeling.
It will be really quite peaceful, refreshing yet painful as this heaviness will set both of your souls to move ahead in your life journey without holding anything back that can drown you at any time.
Timeline is near to 2-3 years it seems to be near the end by this year or next year's july.. monsoon is prominent and winter too.
The beauty of life is, there can be an end to whatever happens within it, but beautiful things hurt too badly like love
- S ♥️
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Image.3
Twin flame, Reflection, Transcend, Frequency, Attune, Trance, Mirror
Message : The idea or myth has a say that karma mirrors when it comes to twin flame but the reality has always been different and distinctive, You imbibe each other's nature timely..if you drink coffee now they might be having tea..
But the very same evening there will be a swap and you would wonder why did chose this when I am a specific this person; is how mirroring situations occurs in between you and your twin flame, I see you don't like to be too stereotypically girl but you have your own way to carry femininity same goes for masculinity,
To find a balance between the frequency of your energy will bring the space of mirrors into existence your twin flame is also seeking you the dreams you had about someone's safe touch but you have never been touched a dagger slashing something into two, all this is a sign of confirmation.
You will meet them when everything is balanced and attuned like a manifestation this entirely depends on how is your energy, divine timing, purpose, frequency, and attuning of your souls.
We exist under the same sky sharing the same breath, the day we will meet what exchanges is the trance of our being till date gets seen, heard and felt a dream come true.
- S🌊
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Image.4
Soulmates, Inner Knowing, Fidelity, Longing
Message : Everything speaks to you about love, hope and light no matter how much dark and cold things around may get there is warmth within, it is the longing towards your soulmate every songs remind you of the visions that you could possibly have with them not the delusions but the kisses on cheeks leaves a smile on your face by now for real as if you felt it happen for real but it is yet to.
I see you are quite pure at heart to see shades and imposters which makes you get influenced at a flinch but god's grace you deal with things very well that even through a mishap you come out like a boon.
It is a part and parcel of the growth towards enlightenment but just be cautious in case things can snap at you anytime even if you are ready for a war no need to invite one to prove everytime that you can do it. trust me this is from your soul mate you keep hurting yourself and they feel really helpless right now to not be able to help you through, so just let go of conflicts if it is around ignore..dodge deal it with grace or address it collectively instead of going and reacting rashly on your own.
To look feel and experience one's soul all you need is love inside your heart's core to connect beyond all the veils of falls and lows, that elevates you heightens you through grounding your roots of existence deeply in each other's heart through foot imprints.
- S🩷
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Paid Readings are Open Check my Pinned Post !!
#love reading#wisdom#divination#pyschic reading#divine guidance#intutive reading#pick a image#channeled reading#pick a pile#free tarot reading#gratitude#future spouse reading#soulmates#twin flame#feeling#seer#paid readings
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I was thinking about kotlc recently and how the Black Swan originally wanted to wait to bring Sophie into the Lost Cities until way later, probably when she turned 18, and how different of a person Sophie would have been if that were the case.
Like at the start of the series, she's this child prodigy who has to go to community college in the fall at the age of 12 because her parents won't let her go to Yale (a totally valid parental choice btw), and the thing is I think she would have THRIVED in that environment. Like at first she would be scared and hesitant because in all other school environments she has been bullied for being as smart as she is, but now she's going into a school that people choose to go to in order to learn. Community college doesn't just have mean, jealous teenagers who attend, there are people of all ages and all walks of life who are ready to learn. Sure, Sophie would still be the youngest one there, and I doubt it would be super easy with the whole mind reading thing, but she would be in a much more supportive environment when it comes to learning than anything else she's experienced.
She'd be able to make friends with her peers, being able to bond over a shared love of whatever they're studying, and these friends don't think she's too smart or too weird. She maybe finds some way to muffle the voices in her head better than her earplugs did. Yeah, she still gets headaches, but she can manage it. I can see her taking as many classes as she can, figuring out her passions and what she might want to do as a career. She'd be in a fantastic place academically to transfer to any school she wants when she turns 18. I can even see her parents letting her graduate when she's 17 and allowing her to transfer to a four year college to get a bachelor's in whatever she wants to study, whatever she finds her passion for, because she worked hard for this, and doesn't hate school now, and has found a path for herself in life that feels right.
And then the Black Swan shows up and whisks her away from all of that, and she's heartbroken because she doesn't need to be taken away from everything she's worked so hard for. Yeah it feels nice to finally have the whole mind reading question answered, but she doesn't need a new place to belong, she has one. I imagine this Sophie being a lot more confident in herself, but a lot angrier too. She's fascinated by her new world, but desperately wants to go back home, to just live out the life she's been working towards. I can see her working side by side with the Black Swan from the jump, because she's in a world with injustice and she can't just sit back and let this slide, but constantly fighting back this resentment for them and how they took everything from her. I think of how canon Sophie had a brief moment of hesitation when it came to training her Telepathy, and I think this older Sophie would be conflicted between wanting to know more about this abnormality that she's been dealing with her whole life, and wanting to cling to her human identity and her old life as much as she possibly can. Because she's been ripped away from it, and no matter what her genetics say, this Sophie still views herself as human.
#please do not get it twisted I love love love canon sophie#i have just been thinking about this a lot and wanted to share#i have never written a fanfic before but this concept has me wanting to bc i love reimaginings of big stories where just one thing changes#and that causes a whole ripple effect that changes so many of the characters and dynamics#like without sophie silveny wouldn't be found and the ruewen's would still be having intense grief and maybe Alvar would still be working#with the neverseen and Marella probably wouldn't have manifested et cetera et cetera#i like to think that it's Stina who goes undercover to track down sophie instead of fitz bc her dad is in the black swan and she is about#sophie's age#i just think it would be funny to swap those two out#anyways sorry i didn't mean for that to be that long i just started word vommiting onto my screen#kotlc#kotlc fandom#kotlc thoughts#keeper of the lost cities#sophie foster#i am absolutely projecting my appreciation for the community college i go to onto sophie here
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The emotion behind the way Edwin uses fuck is so heavy, because outside of the pilot episode and the scene on the stairs, he doesn't swear. He's a proper boy, repressed and focused and he bottles everything up.
In the Pilot, "The police don't know what to do with a fucking witch", he isn't swearing about the witch. He's angry, and he's upset, and he's frustrated. He's trying to focus on solving this case, saving the girl, doing the right thing, fixing things. Edwin spent seventy years in Hell, fighting for a way out (the detail in his journal, he didn't get out on the first try, he spent those 70s years trying over and over and over to find a way out - but that is a story for a whole other time), torture and pain and heartbreak, only to get out and fall into the school to find out no one cared that he died. "An act of God." The school wrote him off, everyone wrote it off and that was it, that was the end of it, no one cared that a 16 year old boy went to bed and was never seen or heard from again, poof, gone. He spent Charles' last moments with him to keep him company, and calm, and not scared, the two of them knowing what had happened only for the school to once again cover up the death of a 16 year old boy and pretend that whatever happened didn't. Edwin spent the next 30 years connecting with Charles, trying to help ghosts so they don't spend their entire afterlives in a state of absolute sorrow and heartbreak like has. We get such a bare taste of the ghosts they've saved and helped move on, who knows how much good they've truly done, how many they've saved from going to Hell on technicalities like Edwin had done. He's frustrated with Crystal, because he's spent 30 years working with Charles and only with Charles, he knows his friend, he knows how he behaves and how he works and how he acts, those two are connected on a level some people only dream about, and here she comes, she latches on, and she joins them to help but she's so hyper focused on herself and David (understandably so), that she isn't giving the same attention to the case that Edwin and Charles have always done, and he's angry, and he feels like it's going to happen to this girl, he is worried that her focus on David, is going to cause them to fail. Crystal has every right to be upset and scared and everything else that she is, but she doesn't consider, until that moment, that Edwin has a right to be upset about how it seems to be interfering with the case. The way that she reacts when he says "The police don't know what to do with a fucking witch," she realizes it then just how important this case is. Edwin was dragged to hell, the boys around him obliterated - leaving behind the idea that maybe he was, too - so to the school, maybe Edwin just disappeared, like Becky, like all the other little girls over the years in Port Townsend. Solving Becky's case is so damn important to Edwin that he is taking it personally. And while it's subtle, Charles reacts to him swearing, too, as though Edwin does not swear. And based on the rest of the season, it's clear he really doesn't. The way he swears in the pilot is from a place of complete and utter sorrow and anger.
In ep 7, it's different. He's spent the whole season struggling with who is he, trying to come to terms with a feeling he'd repressed for at least a century, and he's had to do it while dealing with the Cat King and Monty and watching Charles flirt with Crystal and struggle through his own rage, he's done it as quietly as he could, as if bringing it up out loud might ruin everything that he's worked so hard for. But now he's in Hell, again, now he's trying to get out, again. Edwin encountered the reason he was sent there in the first place, and found out what really happened. Edwin spent all those years thinking it was purely malice that got him sacrificed, only to find out it was just because Simon had a crush on him, and did an absurdly stupid thing thinking it was harmless. I think in that moment, Edwin realized how easy it is to misunderstand something - because clearly, Edwin had absolutely no idea that Simon liked him at all, until the moment he admitted it in Hell. And then Charles shows up. Charles came to save him, armed with a bomb, a Molotov cocktail, and Edwin's notebook with a map of hell on it. Charles came down, he listened to Edwin's directions, he ran behind him most of the time to make sure Edwin was going to get out. Charles was with him, saving him from one of the rooms, following him to the stairs and up. He stopped with him, even when they needed to keep going, Charles let him have a moment on the steps. Edwin is in shock, he cannot believe it. All these years, all these write offs, all these moments where Edwin genuinely didn't think he'd ever get out of Hell if he were to go back, believed that if they ever got caught by Death or anyone from the afterlife, he would be damned forever because who gives a shit about a technicality, who cares about the poor boy that was sacrificed and written off by the rest of the living. Edwin didn't know what else to do or say, the emotions he'd kept bottled up while he tried to figure them out were coming out one way or the other. "It's so fucking stupid, it's unbelievable." Edwin didn't think he deserved it, thought it was stupid to come down and save him, because who would do such a thing. Charles risked himself to come down to Hell to save Edwin. Edwin never thought he'd be worth it. And when Charles just shrugs it off a bit, reminds him that he was gonna do it, and he's so easy about it that Edwin just. Confesses. And corrects him, when Charles misunderstands for a second. Charles didn't think twice about "Great. Love you too. Can we go?" And he really didn't even hesitate to reassure Edwin when Edwin clarified what he meant, that they had forever to figure things out.
#dead boy detectives#edwin payne#okay i am pretty sure i derailed somewhere in here#ecause i'm only like 45% sure of what i wrote#i just kept writing#i have a LOT OF FEELINGS about Edwin and his use of the word fuck#and a lot more feelings about this show#so idk enjoy my ramblings about Edwin and emotion
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hello I would like the kevallison smut ?? Please
The promised kevallison headcanons (aka how the two of them figure out what the other person is into + how they might go about doing it)
When they start hooking up it’s all pretty standard stuff. Allison gets him off after a game. Kevin eats her out if there’s ten minutes free in between classes and an empty dorm room. They’re a booty call before, during or after a night out, or a no-strings-attached way to get some frustration off their chest. Their friends-with-benefits situation is more often than not just a quick fuck when they’re bored. But it's kind of just… that? It's just fucking. It's a handful of different positions, in a handful of different places, but nothing more than fucking, finishing, and leaving. They don’t feel a need to bring it any further though, in some ways hesitant that the other will catch feelings if it gets too intimate. But from the get-go their agreement is clear - if either starts to get attached, or jealous, or even thinks that it might be worth pursuing, they stop. It doesn’t happen, of course, but in the beginning they really try to err on the side of caution until they know that for certain.
There’s one of two ways that their casual hook ups becomes more... interesting every now and again: one) accidentally. two) intentionally.
If it is accidental, I think they stumble upon the other’s kinks by the Grace of God. It's a quick fuck that turns into something more because one of them picks up on how the other's demeanor changes and they realise oh. oh. That did something for them. The moment when it happens is so intoxicating and sexually charged; So intense at the realisation of how turned on the other person is, that they’re just waiting for someone in the dorm room over, or outside the bathroom at a party, or in the almost-empty parking lot to ask did anyone hear Allison and Kevin fucking last night? For either of them, single and used to quick fucks with strangers that don't mean anything nor have the longevity for experimenting with, getting to dip into their fantasies is unparalleled pleasure.
If it’s accidental, it’s a pleasant surprise for them both, and Kevin and Allison have that in common - they are both incredibly, heavily turned on by their fuck-buddies feeling satisfied. It happens, where sometimes Kevin just wants to be blown without returning the gesture, or where Allison wants to come without having to put in the effort it takes to give back. More often than not, though, whether it be with each other or with other people, they're most satisfied when the other person is satisfied, too. So when the topic of kinks and turn ons is broached, or accidentally revealed, it doesn't matter that it's Kevin, or that it's Allison. When they've been fucking for long enough that they find themselves discovering these things, they're comfortable enough with each other to not feel embarrassed about what happens when they have sex. If it makes her wet, and it keeps him hard, then it doesn't matter. They don't talk about their sex lives outside of when or where it happens - a kink or two isn't going to change that.
For Kevin, sweet submissive baby boy who just lives to be praised - oh, when Allison finds out, it opens this door for changing their dynamics that she hadn't even realised existed. Kevin gets so turned on that he practically melts, and Allison eats it up like it's the hottest thing she's ever laid eyes on.
They've found themselves standing up against a wall in a bathroom at a party somewhere, too many suggestive looks across the room leading to a desperately desired handjob or two, and Kevin is fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He struggles with it for a second, before pulling the black leather out from it's square frame and Allison offhandedly says good job with a laugh as she trails kisses up his neck and her fingers down his stomach. She feels his reaction to her words before she notices how his eyes glaze over with the thoughts in his head; how he stills at her words, how he's yearning through his sigh when she follows with a knowing whisper of oh, you want me to tell you how good you're being?
Him in her hand, the long acrylic nails of her free hand dragging lines down his neck, Allison feels how needy he is and softly purrs in his ear to tell her how much he wants it. It's not lost on him how she plays with him like putty between her tender fingers, but still he looks into her eyes with his eyebrows knitted into each other, too close to argue; The please that escapes his lips trapped in between a gasp and a moan is rebutted with her sultry say it again. I want to hear that pretty voice beg. It takes the stalling of the rhythm in her working hand before he finds the ability to whimper out his desperate please, please, please. She's using her free hand to hold his face still, their eyes locked together, while he can barely keep himself in one piece. Her thumb is soft over his lips, brushing over little gasps and short breaths, holding him while she whispers a question and he falls apart in her hands.
If Kevin loves to be topped by strong women, Allison loves to hear a man moan. And she’s never heard him like this before, his lips drawn apart just inches from hers, one hand steadying himself against the wall and the other tugging and pawing at the skin of the small of her back. She doesn't let him look away as she guides him to climax with her soft words of gentle praise. How pretty he looks when he's trying his hardest to be quiet, how well he's doing at keeping himself composed.
Allsion doesn't care that she's accidentally unlocked this submissive side of Kevin; firstly, he's hot as hell when he's this desperate, and it's not as if she's going to be leaving that bathroom and calling him a good boy on the court, because that's not how this works. She's fucked him angry and she's fucked him needy - the passion of fulfilled fantasy only working on a different level to anything else.
(When he's caught his breath and started to clean himself up, she washes her hands and admires her work; his rosy cheeks burning up as she watches him in the mirror. She pushes herself up onto the vanity, and when he can finally bare to look at her again, she says I'm proud of you with a playful smile. Kevin covers his face to laugh in semi-embarrassment, his head shaking as he finds himself in between her legs. They don't talk about it too much before he returns the favour.)
Then there's, Allison, sweet Allison, who's interests work in harmony like a perfect composed song. We knows she loves to hear the men she sleeps with, but there's two things that really get her going that more often than not go hand in hand - rough sex, and loud sex. Living in dorms, it's hard to indulge, especially the second, but usually she'll just pull him close, with his lips to her ear or hers to his. Allison gets off on hearing the person she's fucking, and Kevin is not an exception to that.
They've somehow had a stroke of luck - an empty house in Columbia and some time to kill. Kevin is on the edge of the bed, and Allison is facing Kevin while sitting on his lap, her knees resting on either side of him, in a skirt that is already so short that it's barely even there. They're making out, and Kevin isn't really thinking, but he slaps her ass - something he'd done once or twice before, but never that hard, never that loud. Allison sits back, hands on his shoulders with her mouth open wide. She doesn't get the chance to finish her questioning what are you doing? Before his mischievous smile curls around, what, this? as he laughs and does it again. When she stands up off of him in a half-protest, shaking her finger at how close he was getting to really getting her going, he follows her up. He stands in front of her with feigned apologies for his boldness. She leans into his kiss, with arms wrapped tight around her waist, but instead of pouting his lips, he picks her up and throws her back onto the bed while she scream-laughs.
Body over body, on top of her then, a hand finds it's way in between strands of shiny blonde. A hand that she takes into hers, guiding his fist to grasp a handful of her hair. When he doesn't hold it hard enough she tugs it gently, keeping his fist closed with her hand around it. Looking down at her, he purses his lips with an oh that pauses his other hand while it pushes up her skirt to touch her over her panties. Reading him while waiting for the laugh that never comes is agonisingly long, as she braces herself for the mortifying conversation that he was not going to be entertaining it. Instead he waits for her hand to trail away before pulling her head, hard, back into the bed. And when she shuts her eyes and parts her lips in pleasure, he is quick to bring his hand up to her chin, tilting her head back. The two smallest of his fingers fingers tuck themselves neatly behind her ear, the other two tight between her jawline and her cheekbone. The ball of his thumb is resting on her chin. She doesn't stop him when his thumb trails down from her cupid's bow and into her mouth. She doesn't stop him when he takes it out hold it around her throat, either. Kevin is careful to scatter wet bruises down her chest where they won't be seen. When he's standing back to take off his pants and she’s lifting her top over her head, he asks, you want it hard? and she responds do you even fucking have to ask?
Her skirt is up over her hips and her thong down her thighs. He’s on his knees with her legs over his thighs, maybe he’s pinning her hands down above her head with one big hand over her little wrists. Headboard banging, unrestrained volume, handprints on ass cheeks and scratches across spines. Allison gets sex-drunk when he manhandles her. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s so hot that it’s on fire. It’s eye-rolling, being in a daze afterwards type of fucking. It’s mascara running down cheeks, how the fuck am I supposed to look anyone in the eye after having that done to me type of fucking. It’s needing to have a shower immediately afterwards type of sweaty, messy fucking.
(It’s probably one of the only times they almost/kind of get caught. Not because of the noise, or the sex itself but because of the aftermath. Andrew and Neil clock INSTANTLY the missing and changed details when they regroup - how Kevin’s hair is freshly washed, how Allison has taken her heavy makeup off leaving only a fresh coat of mascara and some lipgloss remaining. How they can barely look at each other in case it reminds them of what has just happened. Their puffy lips, their general daze. Yeah, they fly a little too close to the sun that time - not enough time afterwards to recuperate from an absolutely dirty, filthy, fucking.)
If it's an intentional thing, a discussion about what they're into, and they know before getting into it/it's a conscious choice/it's intentional/some sort of discussion/WHATEVER? There's a few ways I could potentially see it possibly coming up.
A game of Never Have I Ever or some other drinking game with the group and the discussions of kinks come up; Kevin drinks when somebody mentions a praise kink, or being dominated. Allison drinks when somebody mentions liking it rough. Their looks to each other are quick but knowing, Kevin's raised eyebrows when Allison drinks to say she doesn't mind being degraded, the flick of her eyes when he drinks to say he doesn't mind begging for it.
They don't hang around after hooking up, usually. Clean up, get dressed, and leave. That's the routine. But they're talking afterwards for a little while, and the subject of fantasies comes up, and while shes fixing her makeup and tying up her hair she asks him what's the one thing he'd go crazy for. he considers it for a little bit but then gets embarrassed because it's a way harder thing to talk about when you're not actively turned on or drunk. They offer each other tiny pieces as they joke about it, starting tame before they eventually just say it out straight. (she calls him princess when she's leaving and he calls her a slut before she shuts the door.)
They ask each other outright. Kinda similar to accidentally figuring it out but they ask each other for it instead of the other person just doing something and stumbling upon it. Maybe Kevin asks her to tell him how good he feels and she asks why, are you into that? and they like. talk through it . Do you like it when I ask you this? Can I call you this? Do you like it when I tell you you're doing such a good job? Talking through sex can be so hot and even hearing the questions out loud sets the imagination off on a fucking marathon. Maybe Allison asks can you choke me? and he asks her how she likes it before agreeing. Do you like it when I hold you like this? Do you want me to spit in your mouth? Do you want to shut the fuck up and listen to what you do to me? It's a much more thorough discussion than them simply going oh, i think the other person has [blank] kink, so i'm just gonna go ahead and do that. It's a request, instead. Both of them knowing what they want and knowing how to ask for it? Yeaaaahhhh
#I can’t stress it enough I do not ever think they date#I don’t think they even consider it#they’re so happy with just fucking if there’s no one else around#they don’t get jealous#yeah maybe at some point it happens a little more often than it should#but there’s an end point to it#always has been always will be#also they're both switches#which i know we want kevin to be a bottom soooooo. bad#but look at him#(you can't)#LOOK AT HIM#he fucks#thats just the truth#kevin day#allison reynolds#aftg#all for the game#kevallison#they laugh alot when they hook up#if u cant tell#how do u describe this kind of writing? it’s not a fic#it’s more than a hc I guess but writing like this is not the same as writing like it’s a fic#it’s pure description#so I’d happily write some actual descriptive smut but this is what I’ve got rn instead#mine
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1/2- Sorry if this is a weird ask. You're a person of sincere faith who doesn't judge and I'm desperate for outside opinions. I've recently learned that many modern tarot readers don't believe in divination or spirits, but rather that the images on the cards can help us think about things and bring out deeper ideas from our own subconscious. Zero future telling, only for self reflection. That sounds ok to me, and using the cards for visio divina has done really good things for my prayer life.
2/2- But still I worry- what if the more conservative types are right and all use of the cards is bad? What if it's displeasing to God? I beg and pray but I can't seem to find any peace or inner sense of guidance on the topic. Can you please pray for me, and share any wisdom you might have about this? Thank you so much.
Hello, beloved--I don't think this is weird at all! There's so much fearmongering among Christians about things being Satanic or pagan or whatever else, and it's important to not give into that panic while also taking our faith seriously.
None of the people I know who have been interested in tarot do it as a religious or really even spiritual practice--for most of them, it's been a fun thing, like getting your fortune read at a county fair, and it's not something to "believe in" so much as do and think about. I also know people who, as you said, find it useful for reflection, usually for finding new ways of looking at things. I'm not scared of tarot, and I don't think it's demonic.
Christian history is full of things like opening your Bible to a random page to see what God has in store for you or protecting yourself from evil spirits or saying a certain prayer so that a saint will do something for you. Everyone has these superstitious instincts, to find stories in chance, to not waste the few things that are in our control. I don't think there's inherent evil there--evil comes when we trust these things more than God, when we look in our own actions more than God's, when we think we can know the full story, when we try to pin God down. And I don't think superstition with Christian wrappings is any less superstitious, or any more truthful, to be honest.
A lot of people fearmongering about stuff like this are scared about where it might lead--that you'll end up somewhere chanting around a human sacrifice. And of course there are people who start with harmless religious experiences and end up in evil places--lots of Christians go to a potluck and end up believing in prosperity gospel and putting their kids in conversion therapy. But I don't hear you in danger of abandoning God or of harming anyone. And any religious practice can go too far, no matter how pure its roots. What you bring to the practice makes up most of whether you are reaching out toward God with it, and we can balance it with other traditions and other impulses.
In case someone's using the Bible to scare you: what the Bible tells us about fortune-telling/magic/communing with spirits is from a very specific Ancient Israelite perspective that I'm not qualified to unpack, but we don't find it an applicable worldview today. We have different ideas of how to live in community with other religions, and religious practices serve very different functions. We don't follow Ancient Israelite cultic practices--nor do modern Jewish people, for that matter. Christian practice has developed in the past two millennia in so many directions, and barely any of it would be recognizable to the Biblical authors. I obviously trust that God gave us these writings for a reason, and am not saying to ignore them--we can find useful ideas, but not a rule book.
The tarot deck most people know was created in 1909 by an occult secret society, who used symbols from Christianity and astrology. I think it's misguided to find truth in them as they exist, but neither do I think they're inherently evil--they're archetypes, stories. They're just human. I find occult secret societies generally more silly than demonic--although there is lots of racism/cultural appropriation in their histories. I respect those who avoid tarot based on its origins, just as I respect those who won't do yoga because it's a Hindu practice. But so many things come from non-Christian origins, and we cannot throw away the world if we want to live in community with it. (Yes, we are called to be set apart from the world as Christians, but also to love it--there is the line we must walk.)
There is real Biblical precedent for avoiding a practice associated with things outside of your faith--ancient Israelite religion was very concerned with these associations. Paul did not think meat that had originally been offered to pagan gods was sinful to eat, but basically advised people not to eat it because of how it would affect others or perhaps normalize idol worship. These are things we're continually navigating, and in any Christian community you're gonna have to be clear where your faith lies and probably answer some questions. I think it's a good thing that we're called to be purposeful, and to be aware how our actions affect others.
So my general advice would be to really think about it, to do it all purposefully, paying attention to how it affects your life, relationships, and practice, and whether it's bringing you to the life you know God wants from you (one of love). But this sounds like what you're already doing! I think you care more about this than most people I know, and you're coming to God genuinely--these are gifts.
Prayer is sensory, story-filled, interactive. It's a way of moving through the world. You say this has done good things for your prayer life, and I believe you. Contemplation is a major Christian prayer tradition. Anything can give us a new perspective, anything can shove us toward the truth. You're not causing harm, and neither are you abandoning your faith. There are other people navigating the same things as you--Contemplative Tarot is a book by a Catholic tarot practitioner, and it looks really interesting. I know people who have made their own tarot cards, and I wonder what that would look like with more intentional Christian symbolism/stories, even saints. Sometimes I pick a random prayer card to say--this is coincidence, and while it's not something I'm depending on, it does affect how my day goes.
Don't fall for anything or anyone that claims to know the ultimate truth, don't fall for the people who say that tarot has ancient Egyptian/kabbalah roots, don't fall for people who are just selling you things, don't believe anyone who tells you the truth is inside you if they aren't making clear that it's God that's living there, don't base your entire religious practice on something like this. But don't throw away a way of looking at things if God has led you through it. Don't put your life in the hands of cards, but move through your life with stories and new perspectives and contemplation. God's mercies are new every morning.
I don't know if I've given you peace--maybe just more questions. The good news is, you don't have to figure it all out now, and the bad news is you'll never figure it all out. Religious practice is a continuous dialogue and negotiation with the world. I have faith in you, and in the ways God is moving in your life. Bring Jesus with you, wherever you end up--he'll come regardless, of course, but see it happening. A man with a sword or a cup doesn't know your future, nor is he doing anything--but you know that. You're seeing more of the story, you're contemplating the wonders of God, you know the swords and cups that matter, and they are present with you, and seeing them everywhere is a gift.
Something my mother says before I start anything new, or go anywhere important--what she said when I went to the psych ward, and on the first days of school, and when I go to a protest--is "remember your baptism." I think my grandfather said it to her, too. I don't know whether you've been formally baptized, but remember your calling. Remember the beginning of your journey, and why you're still on it, and how you're being a representative of it. Remember your baptism, whatever that means to you. We have been marked with the cross of Christ forever.
<3 Johanna
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Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Polnareff
I always think a lot about the craft and evolution of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure whenever I think about it and Polnareff is one of the greatest examples of it, because Polnareff is the exact moment you can see Araki's gears clicking in place regarding how dang useful supporting characters can be when allowed to take the lead. Where as previous main supporting characters were largely split between cheerleaders (Speedwagon, Poco, Smokey, Erina), sacrifices to up the stakes (the Zeppelis, George) or something in between (Stroheim, Lisa Lisa, Hamon masters in general), Polnareff was maybe the first JoJo character to leapfrog out of his designated role and really for real take the reigns of the story for himself. The first guy that people point to and say as "the REAL protagonist of this part", which is almost a tradition at this point.
In fact, although it's not the first time he has a fight to himself, you could say the first Hol Horse battle is the exact moment when this shift happens, when he's determined to face the odds and die trying in a glorious blaze of righteousness so long as he gets to fulfill his backstory-given revenge (the exact same thing that drove the Zeppelis to their doom) and play the sacrificial role, and then Avdol steals that chance away from him and "dies" instead, and then Kakyoin slams him into the back of a dragulaaaa a pick-up, hears his realization, and elbows him in the face so they can make up and handle this fight on their own, a fight they are not guaranteed to survive because remember, they're side characters, Araki doesn't spare those (heck, he didn't spare either of them in the long run), and thus, the fights they're in inherently have a tension most of the main protagonist fights don't, which means they're a thing worth doing even if, and especially if, they won't be the ones where they're killed off.
This in turn is what allows the Crusaders to gradually come on their own as a cohesive unit of characters, each of whom can take the lead and work out their own missions, solo or in pairs, and take the story through different tones and bumps and highs and lows, each of whom can be selected to better fit whatever cool or stupid or crazy idea Araki was feeling up to that month, and I'd say this breakthrough, working out what it means to write for an actual cast of protagonists and dynamics instead of just the one guy everything rotates around, was just as crucial to the long-term viability of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure as the invention of Stands.
Jotaro is the main character, of course, and Joseph is the navigator. Polnareff was the best answer I could come up with for a personality and visual appearance that would still be able to stand uniquely apart from those two. He makes up for what the two Joestars can't do… So he may have always been special to me. (Laughs)
For example, when he's with Jotaro and Joseph, Polnareff becomes a character who can both tell jokes and act serious. Polnareff's the one who always falls into enemy traps and has bathroom trouble on the journey. If that had happened to Jotaro, it would have made him seem too careless, and the story would have gotten off-kilter. That's why I had no choice but to put in Polnareff as much as I did. Compared to Kakyoin and Avdol, Polnareff is a light, straightforward man who goes out of his way for others, and tends to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. Thanks to that, he got a lot of screen time.
Since he got so much screen time, he also got a lot of battles. He fought a lot of DIO's men, and I was always worried that I might have to make Polnareff lose, or even kill him. Within his battles I saw the unique excitement of not knowing who's going to come out of this alive, similar to with "The Magnificent Seven." Polnareff grew precisely because he conquered so many do-or-die situations. - JoJonium special interviews
Polnareff is the Wolverine of Stardust Crusaders: the lone wolf rebel who actually turns out to be the greatest team player of them all. He's the great handyman, the glue that turns every interaction into a scene, every pairing into a character dynamic, every conflict into a worse conflict, and every victory into an emotional triumph. The Crusaders are largely a set of defined, set personalities, with Joseph providing initial levity, but Polnareff is extremely volatile: he never half-asses a decision or impulse or feeling, he is a whole-ass everything guy 100% of the time. He gets to fall into every horrific trap that Jotaro is too cool to have an appropriate pants-shitting response to, he gets to take turns being the clown with Joseph and play the comedy scenes to their respective traits, he is inherently suited to be a comedic and personable foil to Kakyoin and Avdol, he pairs up wonderfully with all of them when it's time to get serious because Polnareff getting serious means something that Jotaro and co. getting serious doesn't, and THEN he gets to be the hapless frustrated straight man to Iggy, because Iggy is Dog Polnareff, the living embodiment of Polnareff's ego being his worst enemy, and then when they do patch up and get serious, it's the most heartbreaking moment in the story. It's a long journey for Polnareff to work his way to being the guy who can have a stand off with DIO and kill arguably the strongest enemy in the entire series up to that point.
If Stands are said to be the thing that made Araki decide to continue the series past Part 3 because he realized he stumbled onto a conceptual goldmine, I'd say it was the development of the Crusaders as a team, and especially Polnareff taking the lead to such an extent, that gave him the legs to carry this for 25 more years and counting. If Joseph was the moment where Araki kickstarted the idea of being able to replace his protagonists with total opposites and thus always have a potential new angle to approach a story from, Polnareff blew wide open the possibilities of who could take the lead in a given JJBA story, the utility of it's supporting cast, and opened the door for the entry of much, much stronger and more varied character dynamics to support and evolve this variety. There aren't many characters who did as much for JJBA as Polnareff did.
Also yeah no SHIT people joke he's the real protagonist, his fights had a way better batting average than everyone else's, do you remember how boring most of the early fights with Jotaro only were? I'm not gonna say Stardust Crusaders was the best at balancing out the cast just because it was the first part to really try, I definitely think Avdol and Kakyoin got the short end of the stick, Avdol especially, but can you blame Polnareff for overexposure just because he so naturally lends himself to the good stuff? Shit, he really is the Wolverine of Part 3, for better or worse.
#replies tag#ask meme#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#polnareff#stardust crusaders#jjba part 3#hirohiko araki
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what are ur thoughts on all the young dudes man i gotta know
i've never read it, and i can't really see any situation in which i will. not only am i wolfstar-ambivalent, i'm also wizards-knowing-loads-about-muggle-pop-culture-ambivalent - so i'm very much not the target audience.
[although i'm not "what's going on in the 1970s"-ambivalent by any means, so there's that.]
but i suspect anyone who reads this blog regularly knew that - and so i also suspect [even though i wouldn't dare to assume this of you and your intentions in asking this, anon] that it might be presumed that i'm going to pop off about several of the phenomena all the young dudes has set into motion...
and sure, the contemporary marauders subfandom is not a space i'm interested in spending any time in - which is why i don't - but i think it's nonetheless worth saying something in defence of it.
all the young dudes deserves more credit than i think it gets in the fandom more widely - especially in those bits of the fandom which are more interested in canon compliance and canon coherence - for being a genuine pop-culture phenomenon. all corners of the fandom have benefitted from this - i guarantee that huge numbers of people who have returned to the harry potter fandom since 2020 have done so because they've read it [or, at the very least, heard of it], and i also guarantee that many of those people have gone on to make a home for themselves in spaces which seem to have very little in common with the marauders subfandom [such as canon-compliant jily or pro-snape spaces]. many of the things it does - especially the integration of muggle pop-culture into its worldbuilding - have clearly influenced how plenty of authors approach their own work, even if that work is otherwise removed from it in vibe. and its aesthetic is all over the non-fic aspects of fandom too - every "canon-compliant" moodboard or edit or playlist i've ever seen would fit well into the atyd universe. i think it doesn't hurt to acknowledge its influence - it doesn't mean that an author can't disagree with its approach.
[or: my view on all the young dudes is very similar to my view on taylor swift. i've never listened to a single one of her albums, i'm not sure i could name more than about five of her songs - and i don't think the five i can name are any good, i sometimes see flashes of the inter-swiftie discourse and it's like reading a text in a language i can only half speak - but i would be a fool to dismiss her broader pop-culture influence, including on musicians i do follow more closely, or the fact that the fandom which surrounds her is both sincerely interesting, not least from an anthropological perspective, and something in which people i like and respect participate.]
i also don't think the divisions between the marauders subfandom and other spaces are as clear-cut as is often made out. and i think that all the young dudes often gets used as a stick with which to beat this point - particularly because people in the marauders subfandom are frequently accused of not having read the books, and elevating atyd's interpretation of characters [especially sirius and remus] and events over the seven-book series.
that the subfandom elevates fanon and headcanon over canon is a legitimate point. but i think we should all get a fucking grip and recognise that this can disinterest us - or even annoy us - and still not be something any of us should think is that deep.
after all, like anyone, i've encountered people in fandom who write unrecognisable versions of characters, are completely resistant to the idea that their interpretation isn't correct, and believe that it's evidence of deep-seated prejudice to pair their faves with different people... and every single one is someone who believes that their approach is meticulously canon-compliant.
or - as the old adage goes - "people who live in glass subfandoms shouldn't throw stones at roadman remus".
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Uhhh something something with Akatsuki guys breeding their (adult) lil sister :) Bonus for Konan to also breed her lil sister :,)
tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, babytrapping, possessiveness
All characters depicted are 18+
Deidara has never given much thought to having children, he's still pretty young, not to mention that kids are just annoying little brats that will distract him from his art, so he doesn't want any at first, but when he catches his younger sister spending time with other guys, Deidara gives the idea of children much more consideration.
His sister isn't much younger than him. Deidara is nineteen and his baby sis is only a year younger then he is, but the blonde artist doesn't care, she's his sister and she shouldn't be devoting himself to any man but him.
Not only does Deidara want to mark her as his property for possessive reasons, but he would be lying if the thought of breaking his sister's virginity and filling her up until she's thoroughly bred with his baby turns him on like nothing else.
Even if his sister refuses, Deidara will push the issue, practically nagging her into letting him impregnate her, despite the fact that he's being too pushy and they're closely related to each other by blood. Deidara really wants to make sure other guys know to stay away, and this is the most effective way to do it.
"C'mon dummy don't be like that! You love kids, yeah?! So you should be thanking me for being a good big brother and giving you one!"
Deidara is a virgin and an inexperienced one at that, all of his sexual knowledge comes from trashy porno magazines, so he has little to no clue what he's doing when he thrusts into his sister's cunt, too lost in how good it feels to coordinate his thrusts properly.
He also doesn't know much about impregnation and the subsequent pregnancy, but what he does know is that he has to cum inside of her a whole bunch so he can properly knock her to up and keep her all to himself.
Deidara might be inexperienced, but he isn't a complete idiot. He knows that his sister has been on the pill, but he planned ahead, taking her pills and throwing them out when she isn't looking, since he doesn't want any stupid pills getting in his way.
Once he's finally done he'll keep his cock in her for a while, telling her how she better not let a single drop spill out of her, or else he'll just have to breed her all over again.
"Oh yeah, that felt great~ Now you better be a good mommy and behave yourself, or else. I'll just fill you up again, un!"
If she somehow doesn't get pregnant from that encounter, Deidara doesn't sweat it. He's already become addicted to his sister's perfect little pussy, so he's gonna be breeding it everyday anyway.
tw: incest, sibling incest, noncon, breeding, age difference, puppet fucking, drugging, plugs
Sasori hates children. They're needy, loud, annoying, and just all around obnoxious. Sasori never thought he'd want to impregnate someone, especially his own sister, but curiosity gets the better of him, he wants to know if he can get her pregnant even as a puppet.
He rarely ever gives his sister much thought, she just exists to him, and he's only using her because she's the closest woman to him. But when Sasori actually bothers to be around her, he can't help but notice how cute she is, even if she is a brat by his standards.
Sasori won't go into things completely unprepared, he knows how to prepare for things ahead of time. He'll use some of his special poisons to increase her fertility and libido, slipping it into her food and drink when she isn't paying attention, although it is suspicious that her usually cold brother is cooking for her out of nowhere.
Once he's certain that his drugs worked on her, Sasori will take advantage of her, laying her down and getting on top of her. She's obviously confused, but Sasori will explain what he's doing to her in his usual deadpan and blunt way.
"What am I doing..? I'm putting a baby in you. Isn't it obvious? Or are you so stupid that you don't know where babies come from..?"
Sex with Sasori is rather uncomfortable for her. His body is a puppet, so it's wooden, and his cock feels more like a dildo than an actual organic penis, but for Sasori it feels completely normal and pleasurable, although it's hard to tell he's feeling good, since he rarely makes noise and never blinks.
Sasori is still emotionless even during such an intimate moment, he'll simply thrust into his sister's sloppy cunt, only really talking to tell her to stop being so loud with all her annoying crying and pleas to stop.
The absolute loudest he'll be is when he groans as he finishes inside of her. Sasori won't show it on his face or with his words, but he really enjoyed it, even if his sister clearly didn't enjoy it at all as evidenced by her tears.
After he pulls out, Sasori will be stern and make sure that she knows her place, letting her know that she better have his children, despite the fact that he has a very open dislike of kids that he doesn't even bother to hide from her.
"This better work... and if it does, I want nothing to do with whatever annoying children you push out... that's your problem now, little sister."
When he's done, he'll shove a plug into her filled up hole, not wanting her to waste a single drop of his essence, and Sasori will make it very clear that he won't tolerate her removing the plug until he says so.
tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, praise, infantilization, choking, cheating
Itachi is an Uchiha, so he has a natural inclination to reproduce, and he's also an older brother, so if he ever has the urge to breed, he can always go to his sweet little sister.
While Itachi could knock up Izumi instead of his own little sister, and his girlfriend would be more than willing to have his babies, Itachi just thinks his baby sister is so much more adorable and sweet, not to mention more tight and fertile.
He isn't a brute, he isn't going to throw his sister down and force himself onto her like a common thug, that would be mean, so instead he'll manipulate her into coming to his bedroom, and of course she does. She has no reason to doubt her sweet older brother's good intentions.
Itachi still sees his little sister as his baby, despite her being much too old to be considered that, so he'll be overly soothing and gentle when he eases his fat cock into her, not stopping until he's balls deep inside of her fertile cunt, cooing praises into her ear as he pounds her.
"Shhh... There there, baby. You're doing such a good job. Now keep taking it like a good girl, you're making Nii Nii so proud of you..."
He's almost too gentle when he's breeding her, treating her like a porcelain doll that can shatter with even the most slight of pressure, he also doesn't want to risk being too rough when he's trying to impregnate her, not wanting to damage the cute little womb that he's going to fill up with new Uchihas. However, he will choke her slightly, his slender hand squeezing her neck as he gets close.
Itachi is almost a completely different person when he's inside his sister. He's usually a doting yet distant older brother, but he becomes almost clingy when he's fucking her, his heavier body pressed flush against hers and his hands constantly gripping her body as he pounds into her, whispering praises into her ear.
He's nothing if not thorough, he wants to be completely certain that he's bred her well and proper, so he won't stop even after cumming inside of her countless times. She obviously grows tired and overwhelmed from the prolonged breeding session, but he's too focused on claiming her sweet pussy to stop.
When he is finally done filling her to the brim, he'll kindly manipulate incentivize her into keeping this as their little secret, offering to spend more time with her and train her despite his busy mission schedule.
"Good girl, you made me feel so good... Now, if you promise to be good and not tell anyone about this, I'll help you with your shuriken jutsu later, doesn't that sound nice?"
He'll never call himself a pervert, but he doesn't exactly hide how much it turns him on to see his sister cutely limp around the house afterwards, her big brother's seed stuffed inside her womb, unbeknownst to the rest of the family.
tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, monster cocks, double penetration, age difference, size difference, biting, victim blaming
Kisame has always been a more hands off elder brother. His sister didn't inherit the shark like features that he has, so it's almost impossible to believe that such a sweet and cute looking girl is so closely related to the Monster of The Mist, and Kissme himself isn't immune to her cuteness.
Kisame is a bit strange when it comes to his sex drive, on some days sex is the last thing on his mind, but on other days he's practically a feral animal in heat that needs a wet hole to breed, and his poor sister just so happens to catch him on one of those days.
He's a big guy, so he can easily just hold her down and use her like a little fleshlight, and that's exactly what she does, as soon as he gets his hands on her he's pinning her down on the nearest surface and stuffing her full of his dual cocks.
While Kisame technically doesn't need to use both of his cocks in order to breed, he wants to, and his poor sister's pussy will have to suffer for it as she's filled up with both of her brother's huge cocks.
"Fuck!! Keep squeezing my cocks like that, bitch. Your big bro wants to fill ya up real good, so no more bitchin' and whinin'~"
Even if he wasn't trying to be rough, his thrusts are still brutal, his large thighs pressed against her smaller ones as he shoves himself into her over and over again, his deadly teeth biting down on any bit of her skin that they can reach.
Due to his menacing appearance and even more monstrous reputation, Kisame doesn't get laid very often, so he is very pent up, his huge and heavy balls slapping against her clit as he fills her up with his thick cocks, shooting his pent up load into her countless times.
He has very high stamina, so the shark-like man is able to go at it for hours on end, never having to take breaks even when she's hardly conscious underneath him and begging him to stop.
Once he is finally done with her, most likely having fucked her from dusk until dawn, he'll be somewhat apologetic, although will ultimately blame her for his actions. She knows how Kisame gets sometimes, so she should have been a good girl and known better.
"Ahh~ Sorry about that, babygirl, guess I got a bit carried away... Maybe don't go actin' all cute around me next time..."
Kisame isn't trying to knock her up because he wants kids, he's too busy slicing his enemies to ribbons for something like that, he just can't control his feral urges when he's around he sweet little cunt.
tw: incest, sibling incest, noncon, breeding, sadism, abuse, degradation, blood kink, ritual sex, threats, bondage
Unlike some others, Hidan doesn't want to knock his sister up because of a deep possessiveness or need for control, Hidan just wants to breed her because the sadist thinks it would be absolutely hilarious to see his sister all knocked up.
He isn't a nice big brother at all, Hidan is always picking on his sister and making her feel dirty about herself, so his little sister will try to avoid being alone with him at all costs, but Hidan gets her alone eventually...
He'll drag his sister into his room under the guise of a ritual for his beloved Lord Jashin, he'll even threaten her into accepting the "ritual" telling her that she either gets to participate in a breeding ritual or a blood ritual with him, so she has little choice in the matter.
He's quick to tie her down on his bed, making sure she can't move when he has his way with her. Hidan doesn't gag her however, since no one else lives with them and their pictures are out of the picture, she can scream and cry in pain as loud as she wants, it's music to his ears.
"Cmon, just take it you dumb little hoe! You're always dressed like a slut anyway, so just take my cum and get knocked up already!"
Hidan is brutally rough with her, almost to the point of drawing blood, and if she does end up bleeding from his treatment, then that's even better, since blood turns Hidan on like nothing else.
While not inexperienced, Hidan doesn't know how to be gentle during sex, nor does he care to learn, so his cock will roughly bully it's way into her tight pussy while Hidan pounds into her and breeds her with all the carefulness and grace of a rabid dog in heat, even drooling like one during the act.
Hidan never shuts up when he's fucking her, he always has to be making some sort of noise, whether it be degrading her, openly fantasizing about her pregnant body, or just loudly grunting and moaning like a pornstar while he's fucking her.
He has quite a bit of stamina, so he can stuff her full of cum all night long. When he's finished cramming her womb full of his seed, he'll make sure she knows her place and what she's supposed to do now.
"Phew! That felt great, slut! Now you better raise this stupid little brat to follow the ways of Lord Jashin, got it, little sis?"
Hidan doesn't care to be a parent or an uncle to the kid, in fact if his sister doesn't behave herself from now on, the brat might just be his next sacrifice.
tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, age difference, abuse, tentacles, bondage
Despite his very old age, Kakuzu does have a younger sibling who is, while an adult, is also significantly younger than him. Kakuzu doesn't really get along with his sister very much due to their age difference, not to mention how expensive it is to keep her housed and fed.
He can't stand having a girl around his home "mooching" off of him and being a little freeloader. Kakuzu values his money more than anything, including her, so he figures that it's finally time to make her earn her keep and get some responsibility.
Kakuzu is a very big and muscular man, so he can easily manhandle and drag her away to whatever room is closest so he can breed her fertile womb. Her struggles are hardly felt by him, his skin and pain tolerance hardened by decades of battle.
He'll use the threads in his body to stretch out her pussy and prepare her for his cock. The process is incredibly invasive and uncomfortable, especially with her struggling underneath him, but Kakuzu will just scold her for attempting to fight back against him.
"Shut up you little brat. I'm just stretching out your little cunt for me, it wouldn't hurt so much if you weren't so damn tight..."
Once she's properly stretched out to his liking, Kakuzu will use his black threads to restrain her, wrapping around her limbs and keeping her legs spread apart and open to Kakuzu's greedy eyes. The immortal man wastes no time, shoving his cock inside of her without any warning or permission.
Kakuzu is almost as experience in sex as he is in battle, he's nearly a century old so he's had quite a few partners, some more willing than others. Kakuzu isn't experienced in lovemaking however, just in fucking and getting his rocks off.
He isn't very talkative, occasionally groaning and telling her to shut up at the very most. While Kakuzu doesn't want kids, there is a primal part of him that wants to stuff her full of cum and make her his, his thrusts will speed up ever so slightly when these thoughts cross his mind.
While his stamina isn't bad, he won't fuck her for too long, having more important things to do, but he'll still empty a lot of cum inside of her, not even bothering to use any protection. He is rather old anyway, so he probably doesn't have to worry about her getting impregnated from his seed.
"You better not go having any children now, you little idiot. I already have one brat to deal with, the last thing I need is another..."
If she does end up having his child, Kakuzu won't be very happy about it, only tolerating the kid if it somehow benefits him financially, or just keeps his little sister out of his hair and wallet.
tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, God complex, praise, mating press
Pain is an incredibly busy man, being the leader of an organization full of eccentric and dangerous individuals, so he's more focused on that family of his instead of his actual one, which comprises of only his younger sister, whom Pain deeply cherishes despite his cold demeanor.
While not a very remorseful individual most of the time, Pain can't help but feel somewhat bad for neglecting his dear sister, so he decides to give her some very special attention when he finally makes time for her.
Pain starts off rather slow, putting an arm around her shoulder in an affectionate gesture before escalating, holding her against his body, which is as cold as a corpse and rigid due to the rods in his body, the proximity quickly makes her very uncomfortable.
Pain can tell she is uncomfortable but doesn't let that deter him very much at all. He wants to make up for lost time, and he won't let her shyness get in the way of that goal.
"Hush now, little one. You should be feeling very grateful right now, not everybody is lucky enough to bear the child of a God."
He'll fuck her on his bed so that his cold body doesn't cause her too much discomfort during the breeding. While he doesn't go out of his way to be rough, he doesn't make much effort to be gentle either, the end goal is to cum inside of her, not to provide pleasure.
Pain is an incredibly imposing figure, even when he doesn't mean to be. His Rinnegan is staring into her very soul as he thrusts into her, the purple circular pattern showing his overwhelming power over her and almost every other human in the world.
Pain is strong physically as well, not just with his eyes but with his body as well, holding his sister down in the mating press while he pounds into her cunt, making sure none of his precious seed spills out of her.
He cums quite a bit, being rather pent up due to his lack of partners and sexual release, so she'll almost certainly be thoroughly knocked up by the time Pain is done with her, he'll even spare her a few kind wonders afterwards.
"Good girl, you did well. Now you'll have someone too keep your company while your elder brother is too busy. Aren't I so benevolent?"
Pain won't be a very attentive parent, he's already too concerned with running his organization and planning their world domination, but he won't be cruel either, occasionally making time for his little wife sister and their offspring.
tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, futanari/dickgirl, age difference, manipulation, slight misandry
Konan is a very gentle older sister, helping her dear younger sister with whatever she needs. But Konan is only human, and even she has some urges that are very far from gentle or angelic.
Konan is a very unique woman, she has both a cock and a pair of beautiful breasts, so she can satisfy her sisters emotional needs for a womanly presence, and her physical needs for a male one. But of course her innocent little sister isn't very aware of her elder sister's secret part just yet.
When Konan can't resist the urge to have her dearest sister any longer, she is easily able to manipulate the situation to get her sister alone. The younger sibling adores her older sister, so she'll think nothing of Konan getting rather touchy feely at first.
Even if she does notice Konan getting too close to comfort, Konan can easily talk her way into things, telling her sister how good and normal these sorts of interactions between family members apparently are.
"Shhh, there's nothing strange about this, my little angel. We're both girls after all, so we're allowed to be close like this..."
Konan is almost too gentle, being slow when she pushes her cock inside of her sister, making the younger woman feel every single inch as it slides into her virgin pussy, the feeling is both pleasurable and torturous at once.
Konan's cock is rather big despite her lithe frame, so she's easily able to hit her sister's womb with each thrust, her thick meat stretching her out and filling her fertile depths to the brim with her cum.
She would never wittingly harm her dearest sister, but even a woman as angelic and composed as Konan can't help but get lost in the heat of the moment when she's so deep inside her most cherished treasure, her thrusts speeding up when she's getting especially close to cumming again.
Konan won't stop until she is certain that her sister has been impregnated, then she'll finally be able to keep her sister to herself completely, and without having to worry about any undesirable men getting their perverted hands on her innocent baby sister.
"That's my good little girl... Now we can make a new family together, just the two of us. There's no need for any mean, scary men when you have me..."
Once she's impregnated her little sister, Konan won't let the girl out of her sight for even a minute, keeping a close eye on her little angel and the growing bundle of joy growing in her womb.
#naruto#naruto shippuden#boruto#naruto smut#naruto x reader#akatsuki#akatsuki smut#akatsuki x reader#tw.incest#deidara#deidara x reader#deidara smut#sasori#sasori x reader#sasori smut#itachi#itachi x reader#itachi smut#kisame#kisame x reader#kisame smut#hidan#hidan x reader#hidan smut#kakuzu#kakuzu x reader#kakuzu smut#pain naruto#pain x reader#konan
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That introspection on magic addiction is really insightful. Personally, my favorite addiction metaphor is the Venom Symbiote, especially in the Spider-Man 2 video game. It's really neat to see how Harry as Venom is basically the equivalent of being so drugged up that you practically become a different person
Oh man, the Venom Symbiote is so across-the-board in portrayals.
I love Marvel symbiotes. That was my favorite powerset as a kid. A superpower that is also your costume but is also a sentient partner who loves and cherishes you and is with you always.
I was a lonely kid who didn't have a lot of friends; That's my fault, nobody wanted to be friends with a paranoid bully with a victim complex and a growing sense of misogynistic entitlement. Can't imagine why. So I liked to fantasize about what it would be like to have a symbiote, who would make me super powerful and also be my best friend.
Cletus Kasady and the Carnage symbiote are absolute monsters but they're also really sweet together. Depending on the writer, of course, but Carnage is at his best when writers remember that the distinguishing thing about him over Venom is that Kasady and his symbiote are a fully-bonded match made in Hell. They have what Venom wants but struggles to get because interpersonal relationships are hard.
Venom is a character the writers go back and forth on a lot. Like, IIRC the original reason why Spider-Man got rid of the symbiote was because being attached to a living thing is icky. Reed Richards was like "That suit is alive," and Spidey went "OH FUCK NO GET IT OFF". I don't know. I might be misremembering that.
But that's kind of a bad look so writers instead play it up as a wicked parasite that feeds on pure evilness and turns its host cruel and vicious. Which goes a bit too far the other direction because now you've erased the nuance of symbiote characters. Venom has a long and storied history of being an antihero, just as much as he has of being a villain.
That's a side of the character you can't really get from "The Evilness Suit made of concentrated evil turns Venom evil, and now he can only ever be evil so long as he's wearing the evil substance." It always makes me sad when adaptations malign symbiotes as wholly and intrinsically vile.
Of course, I have no idea what's even going on with them anymore. They're like space gods made of pure goodness or some shit now. I think Carnage became Cthulhu at some point? Comics are weird. But going by what they were in the 90's and early 00's, I was a big fan.
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Magnifico's "Wish Stealing form" design/some Character Dump (Disney Wish)
Oh boy ya'll in a BIG BIG Story beat plus some more information on Amaya and Magnifico in my rewrite:
The Kingdom of Roses and Thorns
Oh yeah...this is another long post and Ik @oh-shtars @chillwildwave @signed-sapphire @annymation @uva124 @rascalentertainments is gonna love this idea
For starters...
I Had this nightmare of Magnifico because of this form and now you all will see it too :3
There were also other posts that inspired this design too, so I'll link them here:
Anyways, this post is mainly an MAJIOR STORY IDEA DUMP for my sweet sweet emo Maggy- erm Magnifico (he is glaring at me guys send help please)
Soooo....
I had this terrifying idea for TKoRaT Maggy, even before I had this nightmare of him, where he legit becomes somewhat something like this, but with more vine core when he is taking the wishes/"monster in my closet" wrong vibes.
More like this for the idea I'm going for:
This is one of the ideas I had for Maggy when he is taking the wishes. This is might not be final in my final version of Maggy, hell, I might change that particular design to be Amaya's form when she takes the wishes too, since hers is more smoke which is more or not on par with her character in my rewrite/redesign. It might end up being more of Maggy's thing with Amaya helping him get into this state of transformation to take the wishes since I'd imagine it more of a whole process, but it could also just be something they both do together.
Some more design details I added was his scars from when his kingdom was attacked and almost everyone died because he showed mercy to the attackers. He doesn't really have them in his main design, probably because he covers them up with Amaya's potions or the wishes could have some form healing abilities? Idk I'm still firguring out the magic system of my story or that I just keep forgetting to put those scars in his design so awesome???💀
In my post here, I said that they don't hold ceremonies that has them granting/taking the wishes like they did in the movie. This is mainly because I wanted to do a little something original and gives me the oppertunity to take in the horror aspects of the story (because I love scaring children(not in a bad way, but to show them that there are these kinds of people in the world yk?)). This is why I am intentionally making Maggy and Amaya horrifying in their own way because well...good people can become the bad guys if pushed in the right direction. Especially in what they do to other people. Mainly inspired from Hunchback and Prince of Egypt, with subtle, but TERRIFYING pieces.
BUT, They do have a ceremony, but it is not related to the wishes, it is just there to give them some sympathetic traits to Maggy and Amaya (after all they've been through, I just feel bad, they literally wanted to good things and the world just beat them with a 90 foot pole).
This one I tried making Maggy more jagged. Although it seems like he is a different character here, thats mainly my fault since I really tried to figure out what he would say to Star Boy in this "idea" scene but my brain blanked out and couldn't think of anything so wahoo
Star Boy in this scene doesn't even know he has a desire, he just didn't think stars can form desires (ofc Maggy and Amaya is going to manipulate the hell out of him and Asha :3)
ALSO
This is also the main reason I split Star Boy's powers between what Amaya and Maggy does.
Maggy has only 1 shape-shifting form, and it is only done to steal the wishes. He can't shape shift into anything else, but it is why when he steals star's powers, he becomes more of a terrifying shapeshifter.
Amaya creates dangerous potions, and more or not lurks in the darkness in some way like a cat to bring them to their doom. Although it would make more sense if Maggy has the creation part of Star's powers, I gave it to Amaya since it works for her too, and keeps the power system balanced in some way. If I do give Amaya the ability to also shapeshift into a monster from my dreams, I could also say the same thing can work in reverse too, I just personally think the creation part of her character conflicts with Asha's ability to create/draw magic.
Power wise for this design...
This form also gives Maggy the ability to see people's desires that HE could take. He can't really take them until they are 17-18 years old and older (ruh oh, 2 of our main protagonists fall under that age gap). Plus, he cant take them from children since they are young and dont understand these kinds of things.
This form also falls under the MAIN conflict of why the hell is everyone miserable when they turn around 17/18 years old? Oh yeahhh this is going to fall under how he steals the wishes, but I'm not going to say anything here yet because I really want it to be a surprise.
Nothing that he does is not without reason. He blames the stars for not granting his wish (there is a reason why they didn't), and for not stepping in when a star, or Aster (NOT STAR BOY) went "rouge" (not Aster's fault btw, they didn't have a choice). So, this presented him with this ideology (that I personally believe Amaya first started thinking this way, out of pain and wanting to blame someone for what happened a century ago) that in order for people to not wish on stars, is for them to never wish/dream again. The story in my version is the aftermath of this. Still figuring out THE MAJIOR STORY BEATS, but this falls under Star Boy as well.
Star Boy represents the thing Magnifico hates the most. Plus, Maggy has more of a personal beef with the stars so of course he is going to make sure Star Boy dies, becauseeee he didn't do it last time, so second times the charm, am I right? (OR MAYBE THE THIRD WHO KNOWS, LETTING THE STORY WORK ITSELF OUT ;3)
ORIGINALLY, this was going to be Amaya's thing, but as I said, this might end up being mainly Maggy's thing, or it is something they both do, since they share the same goal, but here is the designs I was going to show for that:
Anywaysssss, ya'll can ask me questions regarding to this design if ya'll want to! I'll gladly answer them! I also will accept suggestions for the design/abilities for this "wish stealing..." thing. I might come up with a better name for this form later. Soo have a happy weekend as your neighbor watches some marvel movies as I work on my projects for my classes.
explodes
Edit: Okay my imagination took my to the most tragic part of his character then randomly imagined star boy getting stabbed by this guy and said "now you feel the pain I felt when everyone died" and star boy, in the worst condition says "almost everyone" then gets a another stab from him💀
#some extra notes here#star boy#is completely horrified of magnifico#especially after their first encounter with each other on a personal level#although his character conflict is based around him knowing what it is to be human#and learning that he wants to be human#it also is the pain of being human as well#especially physical pain since he never felt physical pain before since stars dont feel that form of pain since they cant really get hurt#which is why maggy opposes that since he causes physical/emotion pain to others because of his burdens#in a vague sense#he is going to get badly injured at some point#and is not going to take it well at all. this is where asha comes in and comforts him like he has been doing to her this whole time#i'm also trying to make their relationships basically what oh-shtars said about their post on star boy and asha#and I personally agree with their points as well.#its just executing that is pretty hard#disney wish#art tag#art#artwork#wish 2023#star wish#star boy troubles#star boy wish#wish movie#wish star#wishing star#wishverse#queen amaya#king magnifico#magnifico
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✨Flowery Language
Shenanigans with minor Garreth/ Reader
"Are you aware of the language of flowers, Mr Weasley?"
"I'm fluent in honking daffodil, yeah. HOOOOONK. See?"
Garreth gets you flowers, and things go terribly wrong.
G-rated || no content warnings || 2k words || companion to Stay With Me, but can be read separately || feat. Prim as the Reader, and my other MCs Gibby and Missy
[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]
∘◦❁◦∘
Garreth Weasley swaggers down the hallway with a very important bouquet of flowers.
Today, after all, is a special anniversary: precisely three months and nine days since you started dating. And with O.W.L.s starting soon and the fifth-years hunkering down for the exam period, you've been very keen to frolic the Highlands to escape the stress... just kidding, you hole up in some dark corner of the library and cry about how you don't know anything. Close enough. He's just been making sure you're fed and watered and occasionally getting social contact in the form of a cuddle. Later he'll celebrate with you properly, but for now – what girl doesn't like flowers?
With Professor Garlick's permission he raided the greenhouses for some blossoms, mostly for ones with funny names like cyclamen and rhododendron, and a ton of primroses too, a nice little nod to your nickname, and clumped them together with twine. The end result is a colourful ensemble that will look great in a vase and, not to brag (yes to brag), this might be his best work ever – and he's a potion's genius, so he frequently creates his best work ever on a regular basis.
"Prim!"
In the hallway during lunch, he finds you with your nose in a textbook on your way to the library. Piqued by his voice, you turn towards him, summoning a broad smile, and he sidles up to you with the bouquet hiding behind his back.
"Guess what day it is today?"
You blink owlishly. "Thirty-two days, twenty-one hours and forty-seven minutes until exams?"
"... Well yes, but actually no. Try again?"
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, frowning. "I'm sorry, I've been so stressed. It's the fifth of May? A Thursday? Oh no, have I forgotten something important?"
"It's our sixty-ninth day together! Isn't that great?" He brandishes the bouquet. "And I brought you—"
"AAAAAH!" you shriek suddenly, flinching backwards and warding him away with the book. "No no no!"
"What the—? What's the matter—?"
"Get it away from me!"
You run away – full on, around the corner, dust swirling in your wake – leaving him standing there with his bouquet like an utter plonker. It takes him a few seconds to process what happened. Did he have bad breath? Did you not want to celebrate? Was it the flowers? He glances down at the bouquet, befuddled. You only reacted when he pulled them out – there must be something wrong with them.
He needs help, and he decides to seek it from the wisest person he knows.
"Mr Weasley, I am a door knocker," says the eagle on the Ravenclaw common room door. "I am not a relationship counsellor."
"I'm not here for counselling!" Garreth says, flinging out his arms. "Prim and I are fine, except for this one thing. It's these flowers. She screamed at them! Like, shrilly! Come ooooon, you love giving me your honest, brutal and often very rude opinion. Is it ugly? Does it smell bad?"
He shoves the bouquet to its beak, and it splutters, "I can make judgement perfectly well from a safe distance, thank you! To answer your question, it is neither ugly nor foul-smelling – by some miracle you have indeed managed to pull that off. No, I suspect the young lady takes a different issue. Are you aware of the language of flowers, Mr Weasley?"
"I'm fluent in honking daffodil, yeah. HOOOOONK. See?"
"That's not what I meant." It sighs. "The language of flowers is a Muggle method of subtly communicating emotions or thoughts through floristry. You know a red rose means passionate romantic love, for example? All flowers have a similar connotation, ranging from friendship to jealousy to life. When gifting flowers, one may create a dialogue of meaning through them."
"And you reckon Prim knows about flowery language?"
"She is a Ravenclaw," it says haughtily.
Garreth glances down at his bouquet. Honestly, he chose most of them because they looked pretty. He's simple like that.
"Okay, so... what do these mean?"
"I'm afraid that's as much knowledge as I possess."
He lets out a laugh. "You don't know something? You? The Ravenclaw door knocker?"
"If you don't want the whole school to know about when you were gyrating to Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in only a bath towel, I suggest you keep quiet."
"... How the heck do you know about that? I was alone!"
"The dorm mirrors talk, Mr Weasley. Very loudly."
Bloody mirrors... "Fine. Where do I go? Who do I ask?"
"Someone fluent in the language of flowers might be good start. Perhaps a Muggle-born?"
"Gibby." She would know way more about this stuff. He heads down the stairs. "Thanks for the help. You're my favourite door knocker!"
"May my title be swiftly usurped."
Surprisingly, he finds Gibby outside the greenhouses. On her knees in the grass, she seems to be deep in concentration when he lumbers over, her brow scrunched behind her glasses. Strangely enough, Professor Black's house-elf Scrope is also at her side.
"Gibs! I need your Muggle expertise!"
She takes one look at the bouquet before screaming.
"Lord Almighty! Those better not be for me!"
Uh oh. "No! This— I made this for Prim. She ran away when I gave them to her and the door knocker said it might be because of some flower language thingy. Why? What's wrong with it?"
She gets to her feet, wiping grass off her knees. "Okay, my flower language is a bit rusty, but I believe this is what you've told her." She clears her throat. "Beware! I hate you. This is goodbye, you poor, jealous virgin... yay!"
It's like the earth swallows him whole. He said all those horrible things, all in some stupid flowers? No wonder you ran!
"Tell me how to fix it," he says desperately. "Please, I can't have her believing any of that's true!"
"I'd help you, but I'm kind of sort of... doing a punishment right now."
"... What for?"
Scrope finally pipes up. "The young lady thought it appropriate to bake Master Black a cake."
"He's so moody all the time! I figured it would cheer him up."
"She fell as she presented it. A direct hit on Master's face."
"But it tasted great!"
"As punishment, the young lady has been made to count blades of grass for three hours."
"I'm at eight thousand! ... Or was it seven? You sort of lose track after the first. Can I take a quick break, Mr Scrope?"
"Ten minutes," says Scrope. "Only because Master forbade Scrope from laughing when it was very funny."
It's apparently all she needs, when she drags Garreth to the greenhouses and starts plucking flowers furiously.
"You're going to have to scrap the whole bouquet," she says. "I mean, all the flowers you picked were horrible. Just really bad. Awful. It might've been kinder to tell Prim you hate her."
"Really not helping."
"The primroses can stay though. That's the yay one."
"Primroses mean yay?"
"Well, no. It sort of means youth and optimism, which I interpret as yay!"
Of all the flowers he picked, at least this one isn't bad. Gibby runs around taking her favourites.
"Okay, so, we have this one, pink heather, which means admiration. You want to show how much you admire her, right? Yes. More of it. We need amaryllis, for pride, because you're proud of her. Crocus – that means cheer. Oh! Honeysuckle. They grow in Feldcroft, they're lovely. Jasmine for elegance, red tulips for passion, pink roses for happiness.... are you getting all of this?"
"Yeah," he says, absolutely not getting all of this.
"We should add myrtle, for good luck, since she's taking her O.W.L.s soon. And purple hyacinth for sorrow, because you are very apologetic for that last bouquet. Oh, oh! And some daisies!"
"Aren't daisies weeds?"
She gasps. "No! How dare you! They represent first love! It's perfect."
He sticks them in the bouquet. By the time her ten minutes are up, Garreth has a ginormous bunch of flowers almost as large as his chest. He can barely hold it with one hand.
"Thanks for your help, really."
"Just guarantee me a front-row seat at the wedding. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She drops back to the lawn with Scrope. "Eight-thousand-and-fifty-one, eight-thousand-and-fifty-two..."
Garreth's on the way to find you in the library when he bumps into his friend Missy. She's not wearing her Slytherin robes today, instead an eclectic blouse and skirt, and her hair is dark blue, curling down almost to her waist.
"Good grief, what is that?"
"The bouquet I made for Prim. Isn't it glorious?"
"No, it's terrible. Do you plan to bludgeon her in the head with it?"
Garreth groans. "What do you mean? What's wrong now?"
"Look at the composition! It's much too heavy." She takes it from his hand, shooing him away to inspect. "The silhouette is too imposing... the flora to foliage ratio is unbalanced... the dimensions are far too biased on this side..."
"Can you please talk in wizard's English?"
"Bouquet ugly. Me fix."
"Fine." He gestures. "Have at it."
She starts tossing the flowers she deems extraneous, ruthlessly paring down the bouquet with pursed lips and callous eyes. "I assume you asked Gibby for help?"
"Yeah, why?"
She stifles a snort. "She knows her language of flowers, but her arranging skills leave much to be desired. Frankly I'm insulted you didn't come to me first."
"Sorry I didn't know you were an expert flower arrangerer."
"I only took floristry lessons for eight years. I'm sure that means nothing."
He rolls his eyes. Merlin, what a rich girl past-time. Once she's satisfied skinning the bouquet, lightening it physically and visually, she starts trimming some of the stems.
"No!" he yelps, just as she makes to remove the primroses. "No, keep those."
"It symbolises new beginnings," she says, raising an eyebrow. "However, you seem to have it in abundance. You don't think it's too much?"
"Keep it all," he says again. "It's the only flower I got right the first time."
And he's quite attached to the little primroses now. Name aside, they remind him of you: small and unassuming, but very cute. Missy shrugs in a suit yourself sort of way, and adjusts the stem heights instead. She changes the placement of the flowers so there is greenery between, and makes the foliage fan out prettily over the sides. By the time she's done, she holds an appealing, moderately sized bouquet with a variety of pink, purple and white flowers perfectly balanced with green.
"This will suffice," she says at last, handing it back to him. "Good luck."
"Or you could say myrtle, am I right?"
"Mmm, no." She pats him twice on the shoulder before spinning him around. "On your way, lover boy."
The library is fairly abandoned by the time Garreth arrives with his sensible bouquet. He has to do some real sneak-thievery crab-walking to get inside without Madam Scribner noticing, but when she gets distracted by another student chucking an inkwell over the bannister, Garreth makes his way to the back aisles.
Like he expected, you're there, textbooks and quills abound, ink staining your hands and face. He checks his breath, just in case (it's good), before he walks around the shelf.
"Don't panic, Prim—"
You spot the bouquet immediately and scramble to your feet, slapping a hand over your nose. "No, no—"
"Prim! Merlin's saggy danglers—" He snatches your arm before you can run away. "What? What is it?"
Your eyes squeeze shut, and tears form at the seal. "No, let me go! Please!"
"I'm really sorry if I offended you with my last bouquet! I swear I didn't mean to call you a poor, jealous virgin—"
"No, Garreth— ACHOO!" You flinch through a whole-body sneeze. "I'm allergic to primroses!"
As you fling yourself away, aggressively sneezing, Garreth's hand goes limp.
"I've been calling you Prim for the whole year and you're allergic to primroses?"
∘◦❁◦∘
Fin.
∘◦❁◦∘
Rhododendron – beware
Orange lily – hatred
Cyclamen – goodbye
Clematis – poverty
Yellow rose – jealousy
White lily – virginity
Pink heather – admiration
Amaryllis – pride
Crocus – cheer
Honeysuckle – bonds of love
Jasmine – elegance
Red tulip – passion
Pink rose – happiness
Myrtle – good luck
Purple hyacinth – apology
Daisy – first love
Primrose – new beginnings
#hogwarts legacy#hl#garreth weasley#garreth weasley x reader#garreth weasley x you#hogwarts legacy fanfic#acvasverse#gg gibby#gg prim#gg missy
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I know this is way out of topic but i keep having scenarios of Kazuya and Lyubov AS PARENTS.
I imagine that if lyubov ever did become a mother, she'll be the type to be kind to her kids and might I say will also be the scariest when angry or irritated.
The scenarios will go like:
Lyubov: [Child's full name], may I ask why have you came late tonight.
The child who came home very late and who was also hanging out with friends: I had... Something to do earlier..
And Lyubov is already there with a slipper in one hand ready to discipline her child. I don't care what others say but to me (and my headcanon) that Lyubov would personally give a good beating to her child if they misbehaved too much.
Kazuya's a different story now, I imagine Kazuya being that one chill and really calm with his kids sort of guy. He will also be the type of dad which is also terrified of his wife when she's mad.
These are the things that go on and on in my head everytime I want to sleep.
This is so funny to me because I was also thinking of something similar yesterday, haha (I'll post in a bit, hahaha 😆)
I've been thinking that if the child has a name (boy or girl), it would be Chiharu (I also imagine that, as in many cases, people would think the child is adopted because Chuuya's red hair skipped a generation and his grandchild got it, haha) .
And I can totally imagine Lyubov as the strict mother who her husband and child are afraid of every time she gets angry, haha, lucky for them that she has enough patience 🤍
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