#i think i love too easily and too freely but i have regretted not loving far more than i have regretted loving

[five-bi-five-mind]

Could you please make a fic of Wanda and reader. Vision kisses Wanda even though they are broken up. Reader punches Vision and Wanda proves to reader she only loves the reader. Smut at the end bd happy ending please

I'm Yours Too

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Words: 9.5k+

Genre: Angst & Smut

Summary: Vision doesn't take the sight of you on his ex girlfriend's arm very well. What was supposed to be a night of Wanda proudly showing off her lovely girlfriend turned into a night that almost broke the both of you. But Wanda isn't one to let you get away so easily.

Warnings: Toxic!Wanda, jealous!Wanda, possessive!Wanda, alcohol use, mentions of cheating but not really (it's a misunderstanding), top!Wanda, bottom!Reader, fingering, strap on use (all r receiving), magic strap, also cum strap with a tiny bit of a breeding kink...

A/N: This doesn't 100% follow your prompt, anon, but it's pretty darn close! Also ha... don't know what came over me with the smut oops. I just really love writing toxic Wanda railing reader I guess....

Agreeing to go to this party was a big mistake. At least that’s what you were beginning to believe as the minutes ticked by and you were still sitting alone at the bar, two and a half drinks down when you thought you’d only have one. But then again, you also thought your girlfriend wouldn’t ditch you for so long to go god knows where. 

Crowds weren’t your thing either and Wanda knew that. So when she got invited to Tony’s extravagant party she knew she would have to do some convincing. Luckily for her, she also knew exactly how to get you to agree. Right now, as you sat nervously in a sea of party goers, downing your third drink, you were really regretting how easily you folded.

Your fingers tapped on the bar counter as you considered ordering a fourth since Wanda was still nowhere in sight. The alcohol would calm your nerves hopefully, but the rational side of your brain told you to slow it down. You weren’t drunk, but you definitely weren’t sober either. It might be best to keep yourself as level as you can be while teetering that line between tipsy and drunk. At least until you find Wanda.

It didn’t help that, not only had Wanda ditched you, but the moment you two got there she was preoccupied with whoever was blowing up her phone. You assumed that was why she told you she needed a moment and made her way through the crowd without you. What also added to your frustration was that you couldn’t find a single soul you knew. Natasha had graciously thought to text you to tell you she would be there but was running late. At this point, between waiting for your girlfriend and waiting for your best friend for what you think is about thirty minutes, your patience was wearing thin. 

You decided to give it just five more minutes. If you didn’t see Wanda return to your side or Natasha to swoop in and rescue you, then you’d go hunt down your girlfriend. The only thing was now you couldn’t decide if you wanted to drag her back to the bar and then freely let yourself get drunk with her watchful eye on you as you let go of your anxiety or drag her ass back home and into the comfort and safety of your very cozy bed. You were leaning towards the second option.

No matter how many times you checked your phone, it didn’t change the fact that you had no new notifications. Not from Wanda, not from Nat, not from a single person you thought might be at that party. No, the only notification you got was the warning that your phone battery hit 10%. With a heavy sigh, you decided that was the sign to go find someone you knew. Preferably your missing girlfriend, who you were now quite frustrated with.

Pushing yourself off the bar, your eyes set their sights on the exit to the main hall of the party. You’d scour the entire place if you needed to so you could find your girlfriend and hopefully convince her to get the hell out of here. You’d already been scanning the crowd in the main part of the event and you’d definitely caught at least a glimpse of her red hair through the crowd, but alas she was nowhere insight.

With gusto, you pushed through the crowd until you reached the exit of the crowded room and was just met with a few scattered groups of people here and there in the halls leading up to the main event space. You took a deep breath, you might not have been outside necessarily, but at least you were away from all the excitement and the reduced noise was refreshing to you. Quickly, but still carefully as you scanned your surroundings, you made your way through the rest of the building. Still no Wanda. You were getting farther and farther away from the party and deeper and deeper into the more secluded parts of the convention center. Tony really picked a maze to rent out, you thought as you chose random halls to turn and search through.

All the while, you were checking your phone. You had sent more than a few texts to Wanda, each conveying a little more of your frustration than the last. None of those messages went answered, let alone read. What was worse was there was still no sign of Nat. She promised to text you the moment she arrived and you at least trusted her to keep her word, so you knew you at least wouldn’t run into her in these halls. 

After a few more turns, you realized the sound of the party’s booming music was now nothing more than a dull hum. You were probably on the complete opposite side of the building. Your hopes in finding Wanda were starting to diminish and for a second you seriously contemplated just calling a car to take you home. But as if by some miracle you finally heard her voice echo down the hall. 

Your pace picked up as you followed the sound of her voice. Finally, you could get the hell out of this place. Being left at the party for so long had already made you ready to leave, but having to search through an unfamiliar place for so long meant you weren’t going to budge on that decision. Wanda was going to take you home and there wasn’t going to be any argument about it. 

“Wanda, where did you go?” You said as you caught a glimpse of her when rounding the corner of the hall. “I’ve been looking all over for-“ You cut yourself off when she was fully in view. Only she wasn’t alone. Stopping dead in your tracks the scene before you felt like a gut punch. There she was, Wanda, the woman you love, wrapped in the arms of the man she used to be with. Your world felt like it shattered in two seconds.

Neither heard you, but Vision was the first to see you. He pulled from Wanda’s lips to lock eyes with you. His face was devoid of any emotion when he took in your shocked expression. As if he didn’t realize he was taking away the one person you love most in this world. As if what you caught him doing was nothing to him.  

Wanda’s reaction was the exact opposite of Visions when their kiss broke, but you didn’t notice. Your eyes locked on the man who was currently all over your girlfriend. You couldn’t begin to look at Wanda, but if you did you would’ve noticed the way her body was absolutely ridged in Vision’s embrace. The moment Wanda realized Vision had pulled away, her hands pressed hard to his chest and she gave a powerful shove. His arms fell from her, but when he didn’t even acknowledge her fuming in front of him, she turned to see where he was staring off to. 

And then her heart stopped. The anger Wanda showed towards Vision immediately transformed into concern as her eyes locked onto your face. Wanda knew what this looked like, and it wasn’t good. 

Wanda didn’t have to read your mind to understand exactly what you thought this whole ordeal was, she could see it written all over your face. The problem is, it really wasn’t what it looked like. 

Wanda had been getting bombarded with messages from Vision from the very minute she arrived with you at Tony’s party. He caught a glimpse of her with you on his arm and it sparked something in him to decide tonight was a night to make a stand. After messages flooded in, Wanda’s mood was souring when she was really hoping to enjoy this night and show you off to everyone as hers and hers alone. Only, she couldn’t do that when she was getting increasingly pissed off with Vision and she was growing concerned he’d make a scene. So, she gave in and abandoned you at the bar to go have what was supposed to be a brief chat. She knew you’d be frustrated by this, but she had hoped she’d be back quick enough to make it up to you. Wanda was incredibly wrong. 

Vision and Wanda argued back and forth for well over half an hour. Wanda was clearly standing her ground, but unfortunately so was Vision. When Wanda felt more and more buzzes from her phone as the arguing went on she knew when she returned to your side you’d be pretty angry with her and then there went her evening of parading her girlfriend around proudly for the world to see. So, since the argument with Vision was getting nowhere Wanda tried to cut him off and just walk away. But “tried” is the key word here, because before she knew it he caught her off guard.

Vision was never one to make bold moves. When Wanda was with him, he was always incredibly predictable. It was part of the reason they didn’t work. He was just… boring. There was no spark. But tonight, Vision was a little less predictable than Wanda expected. Before she could turn she found herself pulled back and into his chest and within a blink suddenly she found his cold lips pressed to hers. Immediately, she wanted to retch. The feeling of anyone touching her in any kind of way felt wrong to her, when she found you she knew you were the one she’d been searching for. To even think about being with anyone other than you in any sort of intimate way made her skin crawl, so to have Vision’s lips pressed against hers felt like the most unnatural thing in the world. It made her want to rip his lips off, if she was being totally honest. 

Admittedly, it took her a moment to get over the shock of his bold, but incredibly uncalled for actions, but when she did register exactly what was happening that was when the rage set in. That was also, unfortunately, a moment after you saw the scene as it unfolded. 

So now, here all three of you were. Vision still oblivious to the rage he caused in Wanda. Wanda was looking at you with a mixture of panic and sympathy, knowing exactly what you must be thinking right now. And then there was you, still just standing there utterly frozen.  

Your eyes finally drifted over to where Wanda stood and the look she was giving you made your stomach painfully turn. Wanda’s eyes were glued to you and all you could see in them was extreme guilt. Did she feel guilty she got caught? Did she feel guilty she just witnessed your heart break in front of her? Whatever that guilt was, it suddenly turned your shock into pure anger.  

Your mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right words to respond to the shit show in front of you, but then you realized there were none. You wanted to scream and curse and, honestly, knock Vision’s lights out if you even thought that was possible. However, you knew none of that was productive and you also knew if you started screaming you’d also start crying and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of that. You didn’t want to break yet, not in front of Wanda and especially not in front of Vision.

So, you start to turn around. Your current plan: cut and run. This place is so much of a fucking maze, you were sure you could lose Wanda while you waited for a car to come. 

Except, you should’ve known Wanda was faster than you, so when you started to speed walk away she left Vision in the dust to follow right on your heel.

“Wait, fuck, just wait!” Wanda yelled from behind you. You shook your head, there was no way you wanted to hear her out. Your blood was boiling and you could already tell you were two seconds away from losing your cool. You just had to get a fucking car and then you could lose it in the comfort of your own home. “Come on, where are you even going?” 

“Away from you,” You said over your shoulder. It was a miracle you were even able to dodge bumping into anyone as you were struggling to escape Wanda and call an Uber at the same time. There were a lot of factors that were making it way too difficult for you to escape a determined Wanda who was aggressively following you. One of the factors was that your hands were shaking so badly you could barely type what you needed to type in order to pick the right destination to get home and another factor was that your phone somehow ended up going from 10% to 1% in the time it took for you to find Wanda in the first place. Right before you were about to hit the button in the app to order your escape car, your screen went black and you stopped in your tracks. 

“Fuck!” You howled, half tempted to throw your phone across the hall. 

“Let me take you home,” Wanda stopped right behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We can talk.”

You jerked away from her touch as if it burned and when you spun around, seeing that look of guilt again pissed you off even further. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“(Y/N), just come on, let's go to the car.” Wanda’s voice was level, calm even. She was doing her best to be patient and understanding, because she knew what you must be thinking. She would’ve been furious too if the positions were switched. However, the more calm she sounded the more you thought she was being condescending, even if there was no indication of that in her tone. You were just too hurt and angry to really pay attention to much else at the moment. 

“I’ll find another way,” You spat. “I don’t want to be near you right now. I can’t even fucking look at you.”

That hit a nerve. For a split second you saw frustration towards you flash on Wanda’s features, but then in a blink it was gone and her composure came back. Wanda didn’t want to spend the night screaming at each other, she was going to at least try to avoid that. If she could calm you down she could explain and start making it up to you, but your behavior was quickly testing her. 

“(Y/N), stop it.” Wanda’s voice was more firm as she spoke. “Let’s just go. How are you going to even get home without me? Your phone is dead. What’s your plan?”

“I’ll take her.” The two of you turned to follow the voice and to your relief there came Nat from the other end of the hall.  

Natasha had some great fucking timing. You didn’t want to be near Wanda for another second and now finally your best friend was there to save the day. You didn’t even know how she found you in this place, but you were too thankful to even question it. 

“Come on,” Nat extended a hand towards you. “I’ll take you home.” She nodded at you encouragingly, soft eyes meeting yours. She didn’t know what this was about, but she didn’t need much context to know that somehow Wanda majorly fucked up. Nat knew it was only a matter of time before that happened. She saw how territorial Wanda was with you and for some reason, Nat never trusted it. So, unfortunately for Wanda, Nat became almost as fiercely protective of you as she was. 

“Okay,” You let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Okay, yeah.” You took her hand and that’s when Wanda’s patience was really wearing thin. 

“I can take her home,” Wanda stepped in front of Nat quickly before she could pull you away. “We,” Wanda turned her eyes to look at you, “Need to seriously talk.” 

“She said she didn’t want to, Wanda.” Nat answered for you. The glare she gave Wanda would make anyone else cower in fear, but directed towards Wanda it only angered her more. “I’m taking her home.” 

“And what then?” Wanda challenged. Nat knew exactly what Wanda was implying. As much as you told Nat you reassured Wanda that the thing between you two was platonic, Nat knew Wanda refused to believe you. 

“I’m just dropping her off.” Nat didn’t miss a beat, refusing to back down from Wanda’s attempts to intimidate her.

“Sure you are,” Wanda scoffed. 

“Wanda!” You interrupted. This was ridiculously and you just wanted to go home. Right now really isn't the time to deal with a fight between the two people who care about you most, or at least who you thought did. “You’re not one to talk and I’m leaving right now.”  With that you tugged on Nat’s hand and began to walk in any direction that didn’t lead to Wanda. You’d find your way out of this place somehow, hopefully, but right way or not you didn’t want to look at your girlfriend any longer. “Don’t follow us!” You ordered behind you as you dragged Nat with you.

Wanda stood there and watched you walk away. She wasn’t going to follow you, she already had a better plan. She was going to beat you home. After all, she did have a key to your place. Was it the best plan to corner you and get you to talk? No, Wanda thought this would definitely be a night full of yelling and arguing now, but she didn’t really give a fuck. She wasn’t going to leave Natasha alone with you while you were in this state. No matter what, Wanda just didn’t quite trust Nat with you. Whether Nat realized it herself or not, Wanda knew there was more to her feelings. She watched the way Natasha looked at you, she didn’t need to read her mind to know what her intentions were. 

So as soon as the two of you were out of sight, Wanda rushed to her car. She was going to make sure she got there first. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The car ride with Natasha was silent, but you were incredibly thankful for that. You just sat with your eyes glued to the window. The passing scenery not even registering to you, all you saw was that scene of Vision kissing Wanda replaying over and over again. Natasha didn’t question what happened, she knew if you wanted to talk you would. Instead, she just drove, her eyes flicking over to you every once in a while to make sure you were okay. 

When you both pulled up to your place, you asked Nat if you could sit in the car for a little bit, not quite ready to walk into your empty home and break down. 

“What happened?” Nat tentatively asked, breaking the silence after a few minutes of you just sitting and staring at your front door. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” She quickly added, trying her best not to push you into doing or saying anything you didn’t want to.

“She kissed Vis.” Your voice was barely a whisper, your hands balling into fists on your lap. Natasha just stared at you for a moment. If she already wasn’t pissed with the scene she witnessed at Tony’s party, now she was furious. 

“Whatever you need,” Nat offered, “I’m here.” She knew from your tone you didn’t want to give much more information, so she didn’t press. She just offered you what space she could and waited patiently as you both sat in silence for a few more minutes. 

After some time went by, you finally nodded  to yourself and started to get out of the car. Nat insisted on walking you in. You didn’t protest much, you understood she was concerned about you. Natasha’s intention was just to give you a moment to collect yourself once you sat at home and give you the opportunity to talk more, cry, whatever you needed. She figured you could tell her then if you wanted her to leave or not, but if you wanted her to stay she’d be the shoulder you needed to cry on. 

So she followed you in, but what neither of you noticed was the familiar car parked on the other side of the street .

“I thought she was just going to drop you off.” You heard the voice in the dark the minute you and Nat walked in the door. It startled the hell out of you, but Nat just seemed unphased. She was somewhat expecting this behavior from Wanda. Natasha had hoped you two would make it time, so she could protect you while you did what you needed to heal from whatever pain Wanda caused. Obviously, that wasn’t going to be how the rest of tonight played out. 

Reaching over, you flipped the lights on only to see Wanda sitting on the couch, arms folded over her chest and clear irritation written all over her face. You expected Wanda to chase after you, but you didn’t expect her to let herself into your place or to even beat you to it. Right now, you were really regretting giving her a key. 

“How did you get here before us?” Was the only thing you could think to say as you stared at the one person you really didn’t want to be looking at right now.

“I should be asking you why it took you so long.” Wanda said, clearly still annoyed by Natasha’s presence. Meanwhile, Nat was just standing beside you, her arms folded just like Wanda’s, with a matching annoyed expression on her face. “What were you two doing in the car for so long?” You didn’t miss what Wanda was insinuating and you didn’t like it one bit. 

“We were talking.” Natasha answered for you. “I was comforting her.” Wanda’s lips twitched at that and you knew Nat just hit a nerve. You bit your lip to stop the taunting smirk you wanted to give Wanda. Anything that pissed Wanda off felt a little like a small victory. She was jealous? Good, you thought, now she had the smallest taste of how you were feeling. 

“I’m sure you were,” Wanda gave a tight lipped smile. “But we need to talk so I suggest you leave now.”

“I’m not leaving until she asks me to.” You looked at Nat in awe as she held her ground, not even phased by the brewing rage that showed in Wanda’s eyes. She stood by you, unwavering in her resolve. “I think it’s you who should leave.”

“Oh do you?” Wanda scoffed. “I’m not leaving. She’s my girlfriend, or have you both forgotten?” 

“I think you’re the one that forgot that, Wanda.” You finally speak, fists clenching as you stand practically shaking. How dare she try to be territorial after she did what she did? You weren’t going to stand for this or for the way she was treating Nat. “And I agree with Nat. You should go.”

Wanda’s eyes left Nat’s for a moment and when they reached you, you could almost see them soften. She could tell you were hurting, could tell you were confused. All she wanted to do was clear the air, reassure you that what you saw was a misunderstanding that she doesn’t and would never want Vision in the way she wanted you. If she could just talk to you without Natasha’s frustrating presence then everything would be okay, she was sure of it. It would take some convincing, but you’d understand. She’d make you understand. 

But then, Nat placed her hand on your waist and something inside Wanda snapped. You saw her eyes zero in on the contact Natasha made with you and you didn’t miss the way her eye practically twitched as anger began to rise yet again. “I’m not leaving.” Wanda held her ground. She was sure as hell not going to let you be alone, vulnerable and hurting with someone like Natasha to come prey on your current state. Wanda wasn’t a fool, she could practically picture what would happen. “Not until we talk. Alone.” 

You looked from Wanda to Nat. On the one hand, you really wanted your closest friend to stay by your side, on the other hand you could imagine things would get ugly if Nat were to stay. It was clear, Wanda really wasn’t going to leave until you two talked. Either way, you imagined things would get ugly, but at least you could save yourself a little bit from even more embarrassment by having Natasha avoid the total blow up that you knew was bound to happen.

“It’s okay, Nat.” You heard yourself say before you could really register your decision. “I’ll be okay, why don’t you head home?”

Nat’s jaw clenched as she glared at Wanda for a moment before looking back at you. “Are you sure?” You felt her hand squeeze your waist gently where it rested and all you saw in your friend’s eyes was concern. “I don’t have to-”

“She said she wanted you to head home.” Wanda cut her off, stalking towards the two of you. 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Nat spit, not even bothering to look over at Wanda as she came closer. “I can stay,” she reassured you.

You shook your head. Wanda was two seconds away from making this even worse than it already was. You weren’t entirely sure what Wanda would do to Nat, and you knew Nat could hold her own, but you also didn’t necessarily want to test any of that. “It’s okay, really.” You placed your hand over the hand Nat still had resting on your shoulder. “If anything happens,” You said in a hushed voice. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do,” Natasha urged. She looked back between you and where Wanda stood. Thankfully Wanda stopped just a few feet from you both, seemingly satisfied for now that Natasha was agreeing to leave. She felt triumphant that clearly, even when upset with her, you knew to choose her in situations like this. If she wasn’t still so concerned with getting through to you, she would be gloating at the fact that you chose her. Of course, she had no doubt that you wouldn’t. You were hers and she knew that you knew that. Then again, she also thought you would never believe so easily that she would just willingly touch and be touched by another, not when you two were so clearly in love. But then, here you both were. 

You gave Natasha one more nod of reassurance and Nat just looked back at you, hesitant to take her eyes off you for even a second, but the tap of Wanda’s foot told her if she didn’t leave things would escalate even further fast. So, with great hesitation, she turned from you, giving you one last concerned look before heading out the door and closing it behind her. 

It was silent for a moment. Your eyes were glued to the door Natasha had just walked out of and Wanda’s were glued to you. Neither of you knew how to start, but you knew if you started you’d just dig in. You were hurting and two seconds away from starting an all out war with Wanda, but you also knew that wouldn’t be productive. If you were being honest, the only thing you wanted to do now that Nat was gone was crawl into bed and sob your eyes out. 

“(Y/N), it wasn’t what it looked like.” Wanda finally broke the silence, taking another step towards you. 

You just scoffed and walked past her to the bedroom, making sure to not-so-gently brush her shoulder as you passed. If you two were going to have this fight you needed a minute. At least you wanted to change out of your party clothes. “That’s a cliche,” You said over your shoulder as you walked into the bedroom. Wanda just stood there stunned for a moment, not used to getting the cold treatment from you. It was quickly beginning to irritate her. 

Turning on her heels, Wanda was right behind you in a matter of moments, following you straight into the bedroom. “It wasn’t,” Wanda insisted, watching as you walked into your closet and began to pull out different clothes.

“I’ve heard this all before,” You called from the closet as you dug for more comfortable clothes. “I know this story. I was just stupid to think…” You stopped and shook your head before gathering your clothes. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear it, Wanda. I honestly still want you to leave.” 

“Just let me explain,” Wanda sighed, sitting herself down on your bed while she waited for you to come back out of the closet. With clothes in your hand, your eyebrow quirked as you saw her get comfortable. Something about the image of Wanda in your room, on your bed, after you saw what you saw was making you feel more bitter. It made you think back to the kiss you witnessed and made you wonder how many times Wanda was in his bed since being with you. 

“Get up and turn around.” You commanded as you stood right outside of your closet. 

“What?” Wanda eyed you curiously. “Why?”

“I’m going to change.”

“I’ve seen you naked before,” Wanda deadpanned.

Yes, she certainly has, but the idea of her seeing you like that now made your stomach churn. Being vulnerable like that with her was a privilege you gave to her when you thought she was only being that intimate with you. Now, though, everything has changed. “I don’t care.” Your tone was harsh. “Get Up. Turn Around.”

Wanda stared you down for a moment. You just stared back with exasperation and Wanda realized you wouldn’t budge on this. With a loud and dramatic huff, she got up from where she sat herself on your bed and turned as you began to pull off your party clothes and slip into something more comfortable.

It didn’t sit right with Wanda that you had her turn around. It was one little crack in her hopeful plan to convince you. It was a sign that you were slipping from her and the thought of that sent anxiety creeping up her spine. She tried to tell herself it was just your way of punishing her for the scene you saw. Once you understood it would be okay, she told herself. It had to be okay. 

“You can turn around now.” You said and immediately Wanda jumped at the opportunity to look at you again. She hoped that if you saw the sincerity in her eyes you’d be convinced faster that she wasn’t cheating on you, but when she saw you look at her with nothing but an aloof expression, she was worried it wouldn’t be so easy. Not only that, but she was already struggling to keep her composure with your stubborn attitude. 

“Can we talk now?” Wanda was trying so hard to be gentle about this. She knew she had already lost her cool a few times tonight, especially with Natasha, and that wasn’t going to win her any points but she still really just needed you to hear what happened. 

“Talk.” You muttered, standing in front of Wanda with your arms crossed, trying to appear as closed off from her as possible. Wanda felt that crack in her hopes and composure once more, but she shook it off for a second and took the opportunity you were giving her. 

“Vision kissed me.” Wanda started. “I didn’t kiss him.”

You just rolled your eyes at that. One thing you knew for sure if you were to even consider believing Wanda was that you were going to need more explanation than that to make this all okay. Even then how stupid did Wanda take you for? Vision might have kissed her, but she wasn’t the one to pull back either.

“Mhm, and that still makes it okay how?” 

“I didn’t kiss him!” Wanda exclaimed in frustration. “It wasn’t me who did that!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t stop him either did you?” Wanda’s patience wasn’t the only one’s who was running up. You already didn’t want to hear her excuses tonight and she was doing a horrible job at convincing you of tonight’s fiasco being about anything other than selfish actions by two people to hurt you. 

“I was shocked,” Wanda sighed, knowing that she was sounding less convincing by the second, but still she wasn’t going to let this go. She wasn’t about to lose you. “He caught me off guard and it took me a minute to react. Didn’t you see me shove him away? Didn’t you see how angry I was?”

“Yeah, you only did that after you both realized I got there.” You scoffed. 

“No,” Wanda shook her head adamantly. “No, I didn’t know you were there.” 

“Sure.” You really weren’t buying any of this. Even if it was true that she wasn’t expecting the kiss, that she didn’t want it, there was something still nagging at you. “Why did you even leave me to go see him in the first place?”

“I just wanted a nice night,” Wanda offered. “He wanted to talk, so I agreed and thought after we could get on with our evening.”

“You left me alone for over thirty fucking minutes, Wanda!” All of these excuses Wanda was giving you felt like it was belittling the hurt you felt. You knew you hadn’t really let her talk long but you were already tired of hearing all of it. You were tired of this conversation and you were about done. “Why didn’t you even think to tell me it was him you were going to meet? Do you know how suspicious that looks?”

“I know, I know!” Wanda pleaded. “But there’s nothing going on between us. You have to believe me.”

“How?” You sneered. “How am I supposed to believe you? Obviously, there’s something going on. Otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed you.” 

“(Y/N), there’s not and you know it. You’re just too angry to listen to reason.” Wanda took a step closer to you, trying her best to get through to you with as much patience as she could muster after this trying evening. “You just need to calm down and-”

“Don’t.” You seethed. “Don’t tell me what I need to do. What you need to do, Wanda, is leave. Now. I’m done talking for the night.” That was it, you had it for one evening. Wanda accusing your emotions of skewing your perspective may have been right but it wasn’t what you wanted to hear right now. You didn’t really want to hear anything, you didn’t even want to talk tonight but here you were. On your part, you thought you heard her out way more than she deserved for the night. Especially when you felt like you made it clear you didn’t have much interest in doing this tonight in the first place. 

“I’m not leaving.” Wanda held her ground in front of you. You two just stayed there for a moment, staring. Your expression challenging her to back down, hers daring you to push her further. Your fists clenched and unclenched as you tried to figure out your next move and then it dawned on you. If she wasn’t going to leave you were. And since you were beyond hurt and angry, you knew you leaving her there alone to soak in the mess she made was perfect punishment for the pain she caused you. 

Without a word you turned and started rushing around the room, gathering a few things you’d need for an overnight stay elsewhere. Wanda constantly questioned you as she watched you scurry around the room, but she didn’t stop you just yet. She had hope you’d stop and come to your senses before you got too far. All you did was dodge her questions and keep on moving. You hadn’t exactly figured out where you’d go for the night, but if she wasn’t going to leave you weren’t going to stay and you were pretty sure you’d figure out where to go once you actually got out away from Wanda. With clothes stuffed in your arms and your keys in hand, you thought the only good thing about this situation was the anger and shock had sobered you up very quickly. You had a few drinks at the party, but that isn't affecting you as much anymore. The one thing that might affect your driving was the threat of tears that might spill once you were completely alone. It was a risk worth taking, you told yourself, because one more moment next to Wanda and you were going to break down in front of her. That was still something you wanted to avoid. 

You reached the door, your hands still full as you struggled to turn the knob and open it. In two quick strides Wanda was right behind you, her hand reaching in front of you to slam the door shut the minute you had it barely cracked. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She hissed through clenched teeth. Obviously, you hadn’t come to your senses in time so she realized she had to step in and stop you before you did something reckless. 

“If you’re not going to leave, then I guess I will.” You turned slowly, trying to glare Wanda down and not show any sort of reaction to the anger burning in her eyes.

“Where will you go then, huh? To Nat’s?” Wanda practically spit Natasha’s name out her mouth as she spoke. “What so Vision kisses me and now you’re going to go fuck your buddy?”

Your eyes widened in shock at that. “What are you even talking about, Wanda?” You had always known Wanda was a jealous person and she was definitely not subtle about her disdain for Natasha, but you didn’t actually think she’d accuse you of that. Then again, you also didn’t think she’d cheat on you with Vision, but here you two were. “There’s nothing between me and Nat, but you’d think that wouldn’t you? Paranoid about us? Makes sense, if you’re seeing Vision behind my back of course you’d be worried I’d be doing the same thing with someone else.”

“I told you,” Wanda said through gritted teeth. “Vision kissed me. I am not with him.”

“Why didn’t you pull back? Why were you in his arms? It didn’t look like that!” You asked again, daring her to give you a better answer. Actually no, you didn’t want to give her another opportunity for a shitty excuse, you just really wanted to leave. It was just hard to actually do that when Wanda still had a firm hand on the door, keeping it shut as she cornered you between her arms. “Well, Wanda, you can go be with Vision. I don’t care! I don’t care who you fuck and you don’t have any right to care if I go out and fuck Natasha.” Not like you would, but at this point you just wanted her to feel the hurt you were feeling. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Wanda’s voice wasn’t a yell anymore. It was low, dangerous, and threatening. You did manage to hurt her, but even worse, you managed to make her absolutely rage too. Wanda’s hands left the door and quickly went to either side of your waist, her nails digging into your skin through your shirt as she not so gently pushed you against the door. “Do I need to remind you that you’re mine?”

Your jaw clenched, your anger has already obviously gotten the better of you, but now it’s gotten the better of Wanda too. She got angry, sure, but she was always careful around you. She had good control of it, at least usually. She knew that if she went off around you it could scare you, and that was the last thing she wanted. So she reined it in for you, but now you were threatening to go be with someone else? She couldn’t have that. All of this started because of Vision and Wanda silently made a promise to herself to take care of him at a later date, but right now she needed you to understand just how badly you fucked up now. And as you watched Wanda seeth in front of you, you were beginning to regret those words.

“Wanda, you don’t just get to own me and go fuck around with Vision.”

“For the last fucking time I am not!�� Wanda’s words echoed throughout the room. Her eyes swirled with red magic and you knew that was a sign that Wanda was very quickly losing any ounce of control she had left. The red in her eyes burned like fire as she stared you down. You felt her fingers dig harder into your skin as she held you and you could tell she was trembling at this point too. She was beyond control now as she had you pinned to the door. “And I do own you,” Wanda hissed before pressing herself fully to you.

You grunted at the feeling of her pressing you impossibly close to the door. Your hands went up to her shoulders to shove at them, to try to get her to back off, but it was like she didn’t even notice. Which, that would make sense considering you knew Wanda was much stronger than you. Wanda leaned in so close to you that you felt her breath ghost your lips and in any other moment you would’ve been weak at the knees, but with the way the look in her eyes was completely unhinged, her close proximity only made you gulp. 

 “I have never,” she put as much emphasis on each word as she spoke, “been with Vision since I met you.” Wanda was speaking in a whisper now, but you didn’t miss the way her lips twitched in anger. You also didn’t miss the way you felt Wanda pin you more with her body than her hands and then you realized it was her way of being able to move them freely without the risk of you running.

One of her hands moved up until she was gripping your chin while the other started to snake down your body. With her hold on you, you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to, but that wasn’t your main concern. Your main concern was the feeling of Wanda popping the button of your pants open. “Wanda…” This time all the anger left your voice and the only emotion it had in it was fear. This wasn’t something you wanted to happen with Wanda. She was always loving and gentle with you. You weren’t used to this side of her. Wanda had talked to you about the darker sides of her, but you never imagined you would see it full force, but now here you were. And you were honestly a little bit to blame. You pushed her buttons, you wanted to hurt her and hurt her you did. It should’ve been obvious that Wanda’s response to hurt wouldn’t be the best. 

“You’re mine, (Y/N),” Wanda whispered before turning your chin with her hand, letting your neck be exposed to her. “But don’t worry… I’m yours too.” WIth that you felt Wanda’s teeth sink into your neck and the hands that were once trying to push her away grabbed fist fulls of her shirt. 

“Wanda!” You tried to sound firm but your voice quivered as you spoke, obviously affected by the way Wanda’s teeth dragged down your skin, even if you didn’t want to be right now. You knew, you should probably try harder, but it was also Wanda and her touch always broke your resolve. Except, you were still hurting and not sure how much you believed Wanda even if she said she was yours, even if she said she wasn’t with Vision. You wanted to believe her, which might be why you weren’t exactly trying that hard to protest her touch, but then you felt her hand begin to slip into your panties and you knew you had to shut it down. 

“Wanda, I don’t want this,” your voice was quiet, but firm. And that’s all it took for Wanda to utterly freeze. You both were breathing hard for a moment, Wanda’s body still pinning you to the door as you both stood there. As much as Wanda wanted to prove her point, stake her claim on you, she would never do it against your will. She lost herself and suddenly her blood ran cold as she took in just how badly she lost control. The thought of you being with someone else, that made her blood boil, but you not wanting to be hers anymore? That made her terrified. 

You were the bright light in her life that she was missing for so long. You were someone Wanda was waiting for and she never even knew it. She had tried with Vision, had tried to make things work, but try as she might there was always something missing. That is, until you smiled at her, your eyes filled with nothing but innocent admiration for her. It took just one smile from you and suddenly Wanda’s whole world lit up. The thought of not having that anymore was unfathomable to her. You were the source of her happiness, the air she breathed, all Wanda knew since the moment she met you was, well, you. She couldn’t lose you, but she’d be damned if she ever actually hurt you. And fuck she came so close…

Wanda’s hands immediately moved, but they didn’t let go of you. This time they found their way back to your waist and her head moved back to look you in the eye again. Immediately, you knew you got through to her, but you also knew she was two seconds from breaking too. “I was not with Vision.” Wanda said this more firmly. No more anger in her voice, but still it was filled with utter conviction. “I wasn’t. I’m sorry that I… That I almost- but I wasn’t. I was not with Vision.”

“Okay,” you nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.” 

“I’m yours, I couldn’t be anyone else’s.” In that moment you really believed her. After all the anger had passed you could finally see it. Just as you couldn’t have fathomed Wanda doing something like that before you saw what you saw, she couldn’t fathom doing something like that to you either. “I. Am. Yours.” 

“I know,” You whispered, your hands finally relaxing on her shoulders. “I believe you.”

Wanda sighed for a moment, but you could tell she was still waiting for something. She still had a tight grip on you and she wasn’t going to be letting go any time soon, but you knew it was out of fear this time and not anger. There were words she wanted to hear, but she had already pushed too much, already made a huge mess of things. The way she almost took what you weren’t willing to give, she couldn’t overstep again or she knew it wouldn’t end well for the both of you, if there still was something between the both of you. 

“I’m yours too.” Wanda’s eyes searched yours as you spoke. She wanted to make sure this wasn’t said out of fear, especially considering how she was acting just moments ago, she wouldn’t be surprised if you were lying to protect yourself. But you weren’t, she could see it in your eyes. You looked sad, yes, but you weren’t scared when you said those words. Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know that, not that she ever would. She might have lost control, but she would never violate you like that or in any other way, despite how close she had come. She still stopped when you said no, she still resisted the urge to read your thoughts when you were pushing back so hard. 

Wanda took a deep breath. “I can’t lose you,” she said, her voice quiet as she spoke. Her head pressed against yours, unable to look into your eyes as she tried to get out her one request. “Please, don’t go to Natasha’s tonight.”

“I won’t,” You whispered, your hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “I’ll stay, okay?”

Wanda didn’t say anything, you just felt her nod before her lips pressed gently against yours. This kiss was filled with emotion, filled with love and longing. You knew she was trying to show you she wouldn’t hurt you again in the kiss, but you also knew she was struggling to hold back her need to confirm you were really hers. Your hands moved and wove into her hair and you pulled her body closer to yours yet again. You were still trapped between Wanda and the door, but this time you didn’t mind. The hands that had already popped the buttons of your pants open were still at your waist, but as the kiss deepened you felt them begin to drift back to where they once were. Only this time, you were more than happy to let Wanda’s hands roam. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” Wanda whispered against your lips. 

“It’s okay,” You said between kisses. “It’s okay.” Your grip on her hair was tighter as the kiss shared between you two grew more desperate. There was an unspoken understanding of what Wanda needed and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need it too. She needed to prove to you that you belonged to hers, and you needed her to touch you in a way you knew was only reserved for you.

Wanda’s hands slid straight into your panties and with the way she was kissing you and even the way her teeth marked your neck before, you were already wet for her. When Wanda’s fingers brushed against your clit to collect your wetness, she immediately felt that surge of pride and possession she got from touching you. She knew only she could have this part of you, only she could make you feel this way and touch you in this way. That fact alone had Wanda eager to take all you’d give. 

Wanda’s lips moved to your neck once again and when you felt her teeth drag along your skin you couldn’t stop the quiet whine that left your lips. You were driving Wanda crazy and she already had so much possessive energy she needed to pour into you, so she didn’t waste any time. Without much warning, you feel Wanda slide her fingers down between your folds before two of them dipedp into you. 

Your hands clench impossibly tighter into her hair and she didn’t hesitate to start a steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for moans to fall from your lips and Wanda thinks they are music to her ears. She’s drunk off your reactions and off the way you clench around her fingers when she hits the spot she knows you love. All of this feels so much more intense after the night you two had, after Wanda almost lost you and after you thought Wanda wasn’t yours. Now you both know, there’s no one who could take you two away from each other. Wanda was yours and by some miracle you were still hers. Not Natasha’s, not anyone’s, only Wanda’s. 

The thought of that spurred Wanda’s movements more, pumping her fingers harder into you. Your hands left her hair to steady yourself on her shoulders, your nails digging into her skin. It was getting difficult for you to stand up straight, what with the way Wanda was pressing her hips into yours with every pump of her fingers and how your pants and panties had both somehow fallen down your legs enough to give Wanda more ease in fucking you.

If Wanda was drunk off your reactions, you were absolutely lost in her touch. The way her fingers felt inside you, the way her tongue felt on your skin. You didn’t even mind that in the morning your neck would be covered with visible marks, the sting of her teeth sinking into your neck too tantalizing to care about much else in the moment. You felt that tight pull in the pit of your stomach that indicated you were fast approaching the edge, but Wanda wasn’t quite done yet. 

“I want to feel you cum around my cock,” Wanda growled against your neck, her fingers pulling out without warning. 

You were already too lost in your own pleasure to really realize anything she was saying but the minute you lost contact your confusion overtook you. “Wanda what? What do you- Fuck!” Wanda didn’t waste any time, magicking her pants away and a strap between her legs. It took her two seconds to line it up with your entrance and replace her fingers with it. 

The back of your head hit the door the moment you felt her sheath it inside you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as she ground herself into you to get herself as deep as possible. And then she hoisted up one of your legs, hooking it over her waist so her cock could go ever deeper inside you. The whole time, her iron grip and unwavering strength held you steady as she just pressed herself into you, enjoying the feeling of reaching deeper than she ever had before, deeper than you think you’ve ever taken anyone before. Wanda did that for a moment, enjoying the way your walls squeezed her cock. But then it wasn’t enough and with a growl she pulled out and started fucking you with abandon. You two had tried using a strap-on before, but this was definitely a new one. Wanda couldn’t help the pride she felt at your ease in taking all of her despite the size and the aggression in the way she was pumping herself inside you.

You didn’t think she’s ever fucked you like this. No, you knew this was new. She was always gentle, always making sure her touch was controlled and loving. This wasn’t the same, her touch was more possessive than it ever had been, all consuming. You had hit a nerve, you had threatened to not be hers, and now she needed to prove to you that you belonged to her, heart, mind, and especially body. 

The sounds of your hips hitting the door with each time Wanda pushed her own into yours sounded all throughout the room. With each moment Wanda pushed into you she let out a groan and you understood that her magic somehow allowed her to feel everything she was doing. Her nails dug into the thigh that was hooked to her waist and her other flew to your throat, pressing down just enough to drive you wild but not enough to bring fear. 

You, for the most part, were just trying to take Wanda’s cock in the best way you could, moaning her name, chanting fuck when she began to speed up. It was all overwhelming in the best way and you knew Wanda could feel your thighs shake as she drew you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Wanda grunted in your ear as she continued to pump her cock into you. “So fucking good. Fuck fuck!” Wanda’s pace became erratic and the hand that was pressed to your throat flexed as she avoided temptation to press down harder. 

All you could do was moan as your hands grabbed at Wanda to keep yourself upright. You could tell by the force of Wanda’s hips pushing into yours that you’d have bruises, but you couldn’t begin to care with how good it felt to have Wanda’s cock buried in you. 

“I’m going to cum,” Wanda groaned. “Fuck, I want to fill you with my cum.” Wanda’s cock slammed into you and you could tell by her trembling body that she was incredibly close. “I’m going to cum inside you.” 

As Wanda kept fucking herself inside you came out of your haze just slightly to question what she meant. Curious if it was something said at the heat of the moment or something Wanda actually meant. “Wanda what do you mean- oh fuck.” And suddenly you got your answer. Wanda cried out and you felt hot spurts of Wanda’s cum fill you from the inside. As her faux cock still moved inside you, you felt her continue to fuck her cum deeper inside you and the sensation was too much for you to take, you yourself falling apart on her cock just seconds after. 

Wanda slumped forward, her forehead pressed to yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You felt her cum drip down your thigh when Wanda finally let your leg fall from her waist, but you weren’t recovered enough to move from the door and clean yourself up yet.

“You’re mine,” Wanda whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t ever forget that.”

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Kinktober Day 4 - Thigh Riding | Sex Pollen - Jaskier x Fem!Reader

Thigh riding | Sex pollen | Forced orgasm 

Disclaimer: I did interpret “sex pollen” as loose as aphrodisiac - it’s not an actual pollen, it’s a liquid.  Also, it's late, I have work, I did rush a little to get this out but it's better than another day sans post I hope!

Summary: Geralt had warned you of the dangers of consorting with witches. But you had never anticipated the dangers being this.

Warnings: NSFW, Public Sex/Orgies, Aphrodisiac, Dub Con because of the aphrodisiac but they love each other I swear.

Geralt had warned you.

Geralt had warned you of the dangers of witches often enough. Even Yennefer, a witch herself, often advised against mingling with others that dabble in Chaos.

But that didn’t stop Jaskier from accepting the opportunity of performing on behalf of a town’s witch.

It didn’t stop you from attending the gathering in support of him.

Which is how the pair of you wound up in the mansion of the local town’s “healer”, surrounded by townsfolk that were in the know, and various other mages and witches.

Jaskier had sung wonderfully, as captivating as he ever did - and to hold the attention of those as vain as witches and mages was no small feat, you’ll give him that.

As the night went on, he was free to mingle, returning to your side and sip on the wine that was being freely poured, to feast on the foods presented.

“And to think Geralt was worried,” Jaskier scoffed, in his element, overconfident in the way he often became when things were going a little too smoothly.

It didn’t stop you from smiling though, an easy grin matching his on your face. “A worrywart, that one. A white haired worrywart of a Witcher.”

“Isn’t he just? He ought to have more trust in us.”

You chuckled, taking another sip before waving your glass in emphasis. “Did he warn you about the wine?”

“No, what of it?”

“Yennefer mentioned some witches put something in it, an aphrodisiac. Makes the night more fun as it goes on.”

Jaskier made a face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin. “Oh woe is me, a witch’s orgy. Save me, Butcher of Blaviken!”

A snort escapes you as the pair of you take another sip, continuing to pass the time discussing his various adventures with Geralt, his performance, and the various attendees of the soiree.

The conversation carried on easily, until the vibe of the room suddenly, inexplicably, intangibly…Shifted

Suddenly the air was heavier, thicker in a way that was hotter, heavier. It felt as though the voices of the other partygoers was quieting, slowing down. You became more aware of certain things - men sitting with their hands on other women’s thighs, just a little too high. A flush on women’s cheeks that ran a little brighter, went a little further down than the typical blush from too much wine.

And you were very aware of Jaskier sitting beside you.

His thigh lightly touching yours was suddenly scalding you, but in a way that you felt you simply couldn’t move away.

You hadn’t realized you had stopped listening to the conversation entirely until Jaskier called your name.

You met his eyes, ready to apologize, before immediately regretting it.

Were his eyes always so piercing? His hair always so soft? Did you always notice how deeply he unbuttoned his shirt, how noticeable the droplets of sweat were running down it.

Oh.

Oh.

“Jaskier,” you croaked out, suddenly noticing how dry your mouth was. You licked your lips and continued. “Jaskier, the wine. I don’t think Geralt was wrong.”

“Hmm?” the bard only hummed, and you met his eyes again. He was practically in a trance, staring at where your tongue had darted out to wet your lips.

Slowly, around you, you begin to hear soft sighs, and the lower, hushed tones of lovers speaking to one another.

You grow more aware of the unbearable, present, nearly painful heat between your legs, and when you shift, you realize that you’re already drenched.

“Jask…”

The bard reached forward, placing a large, warm, calloused hand on your thighs.

“They spiked the wine,” he breathes out, turning himself enough that his head is resting against yours, words breathing right in your ear and sending chills down your spine.

“Mhm,” your eyes are closed, trying to ignore the stimuli coming from all senses that your body seems hyper aware of. The gasps, the quiet moans, people growing closer.

Jaskier right beside you.

“Darling we can leave right now,” he breathes, hand on your thigh growing tighter, wandering ever so slightly higher. “We can rent a room in the nearest tavern - or two, if you want to wait this out. We don’t have to stay -”

You cut him off, pushing him back. You can see him start to form an apology, but before giving him the chance you stand and move to position yourself on his lap, straddling his legs and capturing him in a frantic kiss.

It’s not coordinated, or careful, or planned. The moment Jaskier’s brain catches up to what you’ve done, he’s immediately pried your lips open with his tongue, tasting you, claiming you, his hand coming around to cradle your head and pull you in deeper. His other hand wanders quickly, greedily, grasping at every inch of you that he can.

You already don’t want clothes in the way.

As quickly as you get on him, you stand again. The bard is dazed, bright eyes nothing but dark pupils gazing at you as you begin to make quick work of your clothes.

It’s the wine, some tiny, miniscule part in the back of your mind speaks. It’s the wine making you strip in front of a room of strangers, the wine making you mount your friend in a fit of desire.

The wine. Only the wine.

It has to be.

Your hands, in their flurry, begin to struggle with the laces, of which Jaskier is far too eager to help you with.

He leans forward, reaching up to help you loosen the corset. As it’s flung somewhere to your side, he makes quick work of your undershirt, your skirts.

Quickly, so quickly it all began, and just as quickly you’re completely nude, with the bard urging you back into his lap.

In your haste, you slip a little, falling to one side and straddling only one of his thighs.

Despite this you moan, jolting slightly as sliding on the thigh offers some friction to your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grasping on to his shoulders tightly, your body moving without your full consent as you seek any form of relief to the growing burn within you.

It’s too much, the feeling of the cotton trousers beneath you, offering a burning friction to satiate your need, the growing groans echoing throughout the entire room. 

It’s not enough, when Jaskier himself lets out a beautiful moan, feeling you begin to soak through his clothes as you claw at him desperately.

“Dove, please,” he begs, leaning forward to pepper your neck and collarbone with bites. Your hips rock faster, until he tugs harshly at your hair, exposing your neck fully as you shout. His teeth mark your neck and his grip remains firm, his other hand wandering down to aide your movements. 

Your mind, in its wine and drug and lust addled haze, can only focus on two things: easing the burn between your legs, and hearing one of his beautiful sounds again.

And so your hand promptly finds his cock, working it through the flap in his trousers and stroking.

Gods is he hard.

It’s his turn to have his head thrown back, to let out a loud, melodic moan to the room to join the symphony of the others’. It’s rougher than you expected, lightly due to his night of signing and shouting boisterously to a room, but hells did it ever manage to turn you on.

You’re rushing it, you know it, he knows it, but somehow no one can bring themselves to mind as you raise yourself up further, straddling him properly once again.

You stare into the bard’s blue eyes, taking in every expression as you sink down fully, gasping as you feel every inch, every curve, every vein. It’s easy, with how wet you’ve become, and within seconds you’re riding him and hard as you can.

He’s eager to help you, hands grasping your hips so tightly they’re bound to leave bruises, controlling your pace and pulling you ever so slightly closer.

“This isn’t,” Jaskier gasped out, between groans and moans bites to your neck. “This isn’t what I wanted for our first night together.”

“You dreamed of this?” You tease half-heartedly, feeling a warmth in your heart bloom despite the absurdity of the situation.

Was this bard really about to give you a love confession whilst balls deep in you in the midst of a sex party?

“Of course,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. “Gods, so many nights I wanted to have you, in the nearest room in a tavern, against the nearest wall, in the midst of camp. There was a plan, wine and dinner and singing and flowers, just us - fuck do that again.”

You reach for his hair, forcefully pulling his head back to meet your gaze.

“We’ll do this again,” you promise, thighs burning as you ride faster, chasing that growing feeling within you. “I’ve wanted it too, and we’ll talk about it when this damned wine isn’t in our heads but Jaskier, please just fuck me right now I’m so close -”

He stops you, hand travelling forward to meet your clit, rubbing in just the right way that has you seeing stars within seconds.

With your high comes his, and you can’t help but whine at the feeling of his cum shooting deep within you, warming you from the inside out as you clutch each other desperately, needly, as though you were the answer to some eternal unasked question.

As the pair of you come down, gasping, panting, your ears pick up the rest of the party beginning to quiet as well. It was almost as if the spell had a time limit, you thought aimlessly.

As you came to, and the sensations began to dull, your mind grew louder.

You had just fucked Jaskier.

You were still sitting on his cock.

As you go to move, his hand holds your hip tightly, and the other travels upwards to brush some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek. His gaze is gentle, kind, but hungry.

“We’ll do it again, you say?” he teases, that overconfident smirk back on his face. You can feel him hardening inside you once again, and you shift as a reflex, causing a burst of heat to ignite in you once again. “What say you to back at the inn?”

********************************************************

They did not give me cannonical aphrodisiac usage at witch parties for nothing.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

#fawktober2023 #kinktober2023 #x reader #x reader smut #jaskier #jaskier x reader

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

i made more sad stuff

Three days ago I made a post here about aziraphale and crowley and it made a lot of people sad. One of those people was adoptive son and disappointment to the family name @weirdly-specific-but-ok, who proceeded to hit me back by unearthing my deep seated dad issues writing a movie.

Long story short we roped each other into a duel slash sad-off, because i cry easily and he decided to exploit that because he's evil a great guy, and now it's my turn to throw a punch.

Take this Asmi. Take this. The long version, under the cut.

***

Relief is… Relief is. Relief is a difficult emotion.

Relief is, technically, a feeling of reassurance and relaxation following release from anxiety or distress. Aziraphale should know – he owns several copies of the dictionary. And Crowley should, too – he helped write it.

There are many things relief is, and there are just as many if not more that relief is not.

Relief is not seeing your best friend again. There is no reassurance, no relaxation to be found in glimpsing his familiar white curls at the doorstep of the bookshop he abandoned when you know the reason he’s here, and it’s not you. There is no release to be gained from the sort of desperation that forces you back to the sullen, once affectionate eyes that you know will hide from you behind dark glasses despite how much you love them – only a dull, familiar pain.

Relief is not saving the world with him. Not when you’ve done that before. Not when he is your world, and you have failed so spectacularly at keeping him safe as to end up hurting him. When humanity is saved once more, distress still lingers, and your hands still shake at the thought of reaching out and touching him.

Relief is not being alone with him. When all is said and done, and you both return to the home that is not your home, the scars left by each other’s words still bind your hands like fishing wire, sawing deeper into your skin the harder you struggle to break free. To walk by his side is to wade through a sea of regret, knee-deep, and you cannot stand to see the pain you put on his face.

Relief is not this bookshop, this sacred place you tarnished with an offer you will never stop regretting. With insults you would give your life to take back.

Relief is not any of this.

Relief is a Demon interrupting your bumbling attempts at filling the hollow silence that fills, unbidden, the place you wish you could both call home, yet do not dare to anymore. Relief is a gentle voice, a voice so soft that you could never tell that it comes from the lips of a fallen angel.

Saying, “Aziraphale. Stop. Just stop.”

Relief is permission to breathe.

Relief is an Angel gathering his thoughts and somehow still stumbling trying to tell you how he feels. He gestures wildly, and you watch fondly as he puts words to the ineffable. Relief is some things never changing.

Relief is the Angel who hurt you saying, “All I ever wanted was for you to be safe.” Saying, “Please, please tell me I didn’t make you think I don’t care for you. Because if I did, I am so, so very sorry.”

Relief is not taking his hands in yours, his beautiful, beautiful hands, and brushing a thumb over the marks he’s subconsciously scratched into them, calluses and raw skin that tell the tale of a life without your love. But it is in how he squeezes back.

You tell him that you hurt him, too. That you’re sorry.

You tell him that you love him and you see his eyes widen, then brim with tears.

Relief is a second chance. A second kiss, and it’s nothing like your first. It’s full of life, and hope, and none of the anger that laced the way your lips last met. It’s the hands of a Demon cupping the cheeks of an Angel, gentle and tender and shaking slightly, and that only makes it all the more real.

Relief is a Demon’s tears, freely falling. They mix with yours, staining your lips with salt, and yet nothing you’ve done has ever tasted this sweet. You have known love as a dagger, twisting in your gut. This is not that. This is the love of someone who has known its absence and oh, has his pain only ever made him kind.

Relief is your Angel still clinging to you, after all that you’ve done. His hands come up to grip your forearms, as if you’d ever leave again, not after this. As if you could bring yourself to, when he kisses so softly you have to choke down a sob. He is a being of love, and yet he craves yours like a dying man. Relief is knowing he will never let go.

When you both pull back, it is only to wipe away the tears. You cried the last time you kissed, but not like this. You’ve never cried tears of joy like these before. They are bittersweet, and they taste like everything you’ve never said.

There are no words spoken through gritted teeth, there is forgiveness in both your eyes but it is the tender kind, and you have never known a moment to be so full of care.

“I missed you,” chokes the Angel who had once been so terrified. There is no resentment in his voice, not like last time.

“Missed you too,” comes the watery reply of a Demon completely and enormously in love, and he does not turn and walk away.

You sob, and he sobs, and you fall into each other, smiling despite the tears that spill down your cheeks and trace familiar lines that were born of heartbreak and pain, now carved deeper by the spoils of such a release. You laugh together, and you hold on tight, and everything feels okay. Because for the first time in so long, your tears are happy, and you are where you belong.

This is relief in its purest form: forgiveness, and a second chance.

You will live, forever, in this moment, this moment that is entirely yours and yours alone. Even far away, after years go by and you find yourselves in a cottage in the South Downs, you will never leave this moment. You will never leave his arms.

Relief will stop being tears and broken apologies. It will be waking up next to him, and watching the rise and fall of his chest as the sun rises and the nightingales sing in the apple tree you planted outside together. It will be wrapping your arms around his waist as he cooks and tasting spoonfuls of batter as he scolds you.

It will be an Angel and a Demon, and a world in which those titles do not matter.

END.

Update: ao3 link here :)

#sorry again guys so sorry #SORRY #i might put this on ao3 who knows #i played with perspective a bit so it feels a little funky but oh well #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable breakup #fic

[idlesana]

moonlight

minatozaki sana x fem reader ; angst to fluff

summary: sana grows distant, lost in the moon.

"is something the matter?"

your voice came out smaller than intended, more careful, almost tiptoeing around her via word; you didn't want to push too far.

sana was unresponsive at first, and sat on the other side of the bed, contrasting from her typical cuddles. it felt like centuries had gone by (more like seconds) before her voice chimed back,

"nothings's wrong, honey. just thinking." she sighed, eyes gazing out the window, admiring the moon and stars. you pushed further to her side of the bed, now leaning onto her back, not missing the delighted hum that sana let out.

"are you sure, satang? i know you." you muttered, nuzzling further into her back, "you're not this distant usually, has my role of best friend been replaced?" you questioned. you'd meant for it to be a lighthearted joke but didn't miss the sudden stiffening of her body-- the sigh from her lips.

"let's get back to bed, okay?" she said, turning to you, gorgeous smile highlighting her perfect teeth and plump lips, however, you'd caught glance of her eyes; how they were one blink away from tears pouring.

.

she'd drawn away as of late: pet names gone, cuddles ignored due to being busy, her bringing other girls over to watch films or dramas she'd usually watch with you. it sucked, you missed her and she'd pulled away too far for you to reach easily.

therefore, your only choice was to reach out to help.

.

"hyo what could i possibly have done! i miss her, i miss her cuddles, i miss her pet names, i miss her corny flirting, i just miss her!" you sighed, dragging your hands down your face before falling onto her couch.

she let out a huff, looking at you with remorse, maybe a hint of disappointment. god you were too oblivious.

"i'm not sure there's a way i can help you. i think this is something for you to think about on your own, y/n." she shrugged, tilting her face to meet your eyes a little more centered. you subconsciously pouted, gazing not at jihyo but a little past her, spacing out into the neatly placed decor of her apartment.

"however, you can always mope here with me!" she hummed, standing from her seat and moving to engulf you in a hug.

.

another sleepless night since the withdrawal of sana.

what hurt the most was she didn't actually leave you, instead acted colder, sana was there but your satang wasn't.

you titled your head at her, propping your head up onto an arm that'd gone numb for how long you'd been sat just like this.

she was statuesque, almost unmoving as she admired the moon, letting her eyes gloss over. deep in thought, but what of you had no clue.

"why's the moon got your attention, satang?" you asked, mimicking the soft tone you'd always used on these run-on nights. nights where sana slipped away into a world of her own, a world on the moon. "is it prettier than me? color me jealous." you sighed, not missing the lack of usual banter, or how your voice quivered over the words.

"just thinking." she whispered, an audible shake in her words.

"you seem to do a lot of that these days."

"so you've noticed, thought it would've blown over your head like everything else." she grumbled, voice laced with an unfamiliar hostility, one sana had never used against you.

"pardon? what has gotten into you, sana. it's like you don't even care anymore." you snapped, fingertips pressing into your temples; feeling yourself lose grip on your pent-up emotion.

"i only ever care, y/n. you know that." she countered, now turning to meet your watery eyes, and instantly her blank expression fell to one of regret.

"honey, i'm sorry. i didn't want to come off rude, it's just-"

"just what? what did i do wrong, it's like i've lost you for good and i just miss how we were and it feels like you're finally over me." your voice shook, tears now pouring freely as you looked at the older, melting at her expression, one you hadn't seen in a while.

"don't you know that i love you?" she smiled, a sad one, but still it was reminiscent of that 'satang' who'd seemed to be gone.

she scooted closer, pulling you into her torso, letting all the tears soak her tee. her familiar scent filled your senses, prompting more tears to leak from your eyes.

"i've always loved you, honey, always will." she hummed, hand running through your hair in attempt to calm you.

"love me how?" you cried, gulping the moisture from your mouth, breath coming in sniffles. she sighed, looking away before turning back to you.

"i'm in love with you, y/n." she said, words glazing over you, causing what felt like a full body reaction; eyes widening and body jolting back.

"listen i know you don't feel how i do but-"

a kiss. instead of letting her run on about some assumption about her feelings for you, you slotted your lips between hers, not missing the small gasp or the one-second-long hesitancy to kiss back. she tasted of strawberries and everything sweet, everything you hoped. and while chaste, the kiss was the best one you'd had, and indefinitely not the last you'd receive from minatozaki.

"why didn't you tell me sooner, silly." you giggled, pulling away to wipe at your eyes only to get a clear view of her own eyes, now fully restored to your satang.

"i'm so in love with you." she giggled, pulling you back into her arms.

the moon smiled that night, the light nearly beaming into the room. and while unlikely, it felt like the moon had been waiting for this moment since the first conversation it had with sana.

#sana x reader #sana imagines #sana scenarios #sana drabble #sana imagine #twice imagines #twice x reader #twice #sana #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reaeder

[dualityvn]

Slightly tears up, before motioning for Keith to step even closer

"Oh, flowerboy

I may not be able to touch you more than I already have for today, I'm sorry. But let it be so you will be forced to hear me clearly.

Tenebris will never scare me away. Hell, even when confronted with him, I chose to face my fears and speak my mind. Sure, I could have probably found a way to get him to switch back. Yet I wanted him to know the truth. I didn't want him to doubt for a second longer my intentions towards you. And yes it was a silly idea, it could have gone terribly bad, but I don't regret it one bit. You may not care right now much, but I do. I want one day for tenebris to actually approve of me being in a relationship with you. And I won't stop until he is finally forced to acknowledge my efforts in this connection with you and my love for you in the future. It's a silly notion, but one that forces me to try harder every time.

For you deserve to be with someone who will one day cast away any doubts you have and love you for you. And although I don't know Tenebris that much and he scares the living hell out of me, I know I can trust him that should I ever be truly unfit for you, he'll either beat some sense to me or force us apart until I realize my mistakes and come back to you. Because Keith Madden, us being together is inevitable. All paths that I can take right now, no matter how different, will always lead me back to you.

And I'm not sure, for me it sounds way too easy to put the blame all on tenebris. What if those people you did meet just weren't the ones? If the foundations between two people were so strong as you believe, would they easily be as broken as they are as of now? Tenebris scared the living hell out of me as well, probably in the worst situation he has ever done so far judging by the context, yet I'm still sitting here with you. I'm standing right next to you, chest to chest, even though for all I know he could come out at any time. Why do you think that is?

You're so silly and oblivious, flower boy. I could have literally run away while you were waiting for me, I could have made an excuse and left. You wouldn't have done anything, and we both know it. So, why do you think, I'm placing my own life right between your hands? Why am I allowing myself to be this vulnerable with you, knowing full well where it led me in the past?

Because I already trust you, silly. I trust your words, I trust your every action. I trust you, Keith Madden. Maybe more than myself at times. Why else would I even move into your guys' house despite Tenebris. Even though, we barely have placed a label and undoubtedly have gone on zero dates. Naivety? Perhaps. And maybe it's really too soon to give my trust to you this freely, but something deep down tells me I won't regret this.

And if there is one thing I know, it's that my gut feeling has never been wrong. It won't start being wrong about a guy who is so kind, sweet, understanding towards me, even when I majorly fuck up. A man who spends hours making sure his plants are properly cared for and makes a list of every single thing I dislike or like. The type of guy that reads books in his spare time somehow without getting bored while also somehow tolerating the horrible puns I make.

So no, Keith Madden, I fear you're stuck with me for the foreseeable and unforeseeable future. And maybe it's about time, you start getting used to it. I'm unfortunately staying right where I am, next to you. Through thick and thin. There's nothing you can do that will push me away, and I will gladly spend all my remaining days on earth repeating those words until you believe them as the truth, all on your own."

"I- I don't know what to say. For a while, I thought you were coming around and helping out because you wanted to make up for what you said before. I mean... I was really hoping you felt this way, but I thought it was false hope. But... but I do want to be together! And go on dates. I would've asked sooner, I just wasn't sure. I didn't want to rush you." - Keith

#duality game #yandere #dating sim #visual novel #duality keith #art response #tsundere chronicles

[gunnerkriggcritical]

Feel free to not answer this if you don’t want to or are uncomfortable but what would be a way for Tony to become sympathetic in your eyes? If you wrote Gunnerkrigg court what would you do with Tony?

I'm gonna try and put this into words as best I can, but it's difficult. I hope this makes sense.

Honestly, nobody crucify me for this, but... I think Tony is inherently sympathetic the way he is now? Like, all the basic ingredients to Tony's story make up someone I could very easily feel sorry for. I would not have an inherent problem with being asked to see him in shades of grey. I freely admit that he's been through a lot of pain in his life. It's just the execution that leaves me unhappy.

What I have a problem with is chapters like "Annie and the Fire," and especially "The Mind Cage." They're about as subtle as a brick in asking Annie, and especially the reader, to forgive Tony because he's been through a lot. No matter how many times we're told Tony's actions aren't excused by his pain, it doesn't disguise the transparent fact that the comic is asking us to excuse his actions and feel really, really bad for him. It reads like the author getting mad at us for interpreting his story "incorrectly," which really raises the reader's hackles, and for good reason.

I find it difficult to think of how I'd fix this - I'm sure people smarter than me have articulated it way better in the past. Let's begin with "Annie and the Fire." I don't have a problem with the reader being shown why Tony did everything that he did - and that he deeply regrets it - but I would probably remove the framing device where Donnie is purposefully showing Annie the conversation. I would rather have Annie somehow slipping her blinker stone into her dad's clothes or something and eavesdropping on him that way. Having Donnie specifically choose to show Annie "the other side" of Tony feels too much like apologism, no matter how much Donnie (and the author) try to convince us otherwise. And the idea of Donnie specifically trying to show this abused child that her dad isn't so bad after all leaves a really bad taste in my mouth, too, especially since Donnie was previously like, one of the sole reasonable adults in the entire comic, lol.

I would just erase "The Mind Cage." Like, entirely. No more "Mind Cage" period. That chapter is such a cringeworthy blunder in the comic's history. It is so obviously calculated to address reader backlash against Tony and the comic simply doesn't need it. On top of that, I would remove like, almost every reference to Tony's mind cage situation, I think. The concept that he can't talk to more than one person at once is so goddamn silly and poorly thought-out, and I say this as an autistic person with severe social anxiety myself. I will say that I do understand where Tom was coming from and what he was trying to do, I just think it was very poorly executed and comes across as so weird and borderline offensive to neurodivergent experiences. It's a no from me. Take it out.

At most, imply Tony's social difficulties through his actions. Rewrite the arc where Kat forgives him - don't just have it happening instantly and offscreen, which is so jarring and almost sickening after years of her being Annie's staunchest defender. And for god's sake don't have Annie expressing that she doesn't care what her dad does and will love him no matter what, frame this as an unambiguously good and cool thing, and have Jones, the impartial observer character, judge that this situation is fine actually.

Related note: "Get Lost" needs rewrites, too. Tony is simply not charming enough in that chapter to make us believe that Surma, and Kat, and everyone else, would be bamboozled by how cool and funny he is. He's just some dude. He's so bland, and so is his and Surma's romance. It's simply not believable. That chapter needs to be a slam dunk - it's pulling a lot of weight to convince the readers of a lot of things at once, and it's simply not working.

I think there is a fundamental problem that needs to be addressed before we deal with any of this: the comic is being written by an author that dislikes its main character and sees her as a spoiled child who deserves harsh punishment for her actions. This is in direct conflict with his readers, who have interpreted the story thus far as being about an abused and neglected kid who doesn't deserve any of the stuff that's happened to her, even if she's been cheating on her schoolwork and acting out a little. I believe Tom sees Tony's actions as at least a little justified because of this. If this wasn't the case, I think he would be more capable of writing the story in a way that readers would be more able to connect with and understand, rather than reacting with revulsion and confusion because, to us, he's depicting an abused child getting constantly knocked back down by her cruel father. Tom's biases are showing very clearly through his work, and he is not treating his story with the nuance it deserves, not anymore. I don't think there's any way to "fix" this, other than Tom having a come-to-Jesus moment, which is just not likely at this point, sad to say.

This obviously doesn't cover it all, not even close. It's just some rambling thoughts from me, and I hope they made at least a little sense. Thanks for this ask.

#gunnerkrigg #gunnerkrigg court #gunnerkrigg court critical #answers

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

Hello! Can I request Kyojuro x Tsuguko!Reader that became a demon? I'm fine with either fluff or super angst.🥲

Ooo okay! I hope this is what you wanted! <3 I was a dramaqueen writing this jsksjjdb it's so dramatic and for what 😭

Warning: blood...

Masterlist &lt;3

Kyojuro x Tsuguko!Demon!Reader - Changes

The grief is so overwhelming that you fell it sweltering in your chest, that little ball of pressure that makes it hard to swallow and even harder to breathe. Each breath, in fact, has you feeling more and more suffocated, and the tears that flood your vision irritate your eyes, stinging them and forcing them to shut, causing more to overflow.

Little droplets of your heartbreak catch on your eyelashes, reflecting the light and making stunningly pigmented eyes practically glow in the low moonlight casted across Corps Grove.

Cold wind blows through the grass and against your previously beautiful kimono, which is now decorated in blood. It's so, incredibly difficult to think back on the mission, or what you could've done.

An involuntary sob bubbles up in your chest, and then dies in your throat. Everything is lost.

The headache brought on from crying yourself into dehydration moves to the front of your head, accompanied by that familiar pressure inside of your sinuses as your head tilts down, and you let yourself freely cry.

Rengoku looks scared, upset, worried, and just about any other negative emotion in the book. Why is his beloved not letting him close? Why can't he embrace you?

"My love, what's gotten you so stricken with grief?!"

If only he knew.

"My love--"

"-Don't. ...please. Just- I failed. I failed the damn mission! I-..."

What? He doesn't care, he's failed missions in the past, so why are you reacting this way when the problem can be so easily fixed, he thinks.

"Kyojuro!-"

You wail his name, and his chest physically hurts at the sound. You sound so pained, like everything has been lost, like you've been wounded so deeply, you could never truly heal. Panic starts to set in. He wants to run to you, is fighting every urge not to scoop you into his arms and envelop you, keep you safe from the world. But you won't let him.

You absolutely will not let him get closer.

"I'm a- I-... Kyo- I died-"

Oh.

Oh. He knows what's going on.

He knows it now, and there's a sinking feeling in his stomach and he just looks at you, eyes wide in shock. In horror.

The silence is interrupted by a whistle of the wind, fiery hair being caught in the gust and almost reaching for you. He feels ill. Sick.

Please say something, he thinks now. Is he dreaming? Is this some kind of sick joke?!

"I was-... I-…"

It's almost impossible to speak when your chest spasms with shallow breaths, and your head swims with blooming anxiety over what you could've done, and how you've ruined everything with just a little mistake.

Your gut is filled with sorrow and regret, and in your head you tell yourself that it's not fair, that it really was just a little mistake, but it's far too late now, and you can't undo what has already been done.

"I'm not- I'm- n-not human anymore!-... I don't even know why I'm alive!"

That's when Kyojuro's heart sinks. He scrambles to reason with you though, and his attempts have you smiling through tears, as much as your face hurts and your skin feels tight from the salt dried on your cheeks.

"We have Nezuko! We can have you too! I will absolutely not let you go! My love, we can get past this... Please let me come to you- this changes nothing!"

It's like your heart shatters the moment you hear your beloved Rengoku's voice waver in his pleading. He's always so sure of himself. He's so strong and brave, braver than you could ever hope to be even if you wished upon a falling star. But that's why you fell in love with him. Even in this moment, when everything is up in the air, he's still certain that he loves you.

Your resolve wavers, and for the first time since you've gotten back from your mission, you let him hold you.

He's got you wrapped tightly in his arms in seconds, and even through the physical pain, and emotional torment, he still feels so warm and comforting. You're finally safe. Everything is alright.

#demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer angst #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu no yaiba x you #kny imagines #kny headcanons #kny #kny rengoku #kny x you #rengoku imagines #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x reader angst

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: II, Part Three

Final part of II, in The Love You Want.

The pining is astronomical and Vessel has a bad time, as always. To think I said this chapter was gonna be significantly shorter than the others??

The Love You Want: I

The Love You Want: II, Part One

The Love You Want: II, Part Two

Masterlist

Link to chapter on AO3

Word count: 10,156

Mind the tags, as always <3

Word count: 10,156

Fic under the cut <3

Conversation flows more easily now when both are healthy, but Vessel is as quiet as ever, movements limited and gaze low. A particular incident, on one of Vessel's bad days, where II raised his arms too high, too quickly, while stretching, sent Vessel into a panic attack, all six of Vessel's eyes following every minute movement of II's hands. It filled II with rage, to see Vessel cringe back, expecting to be hit. To see the expectation, the acceptance.

II spoke through clenched teeth, reassuring Vessel, pushing sincerity down the bond, trying desperately to overwhelm the sheer hate filling II up to the brim, that he would never, ever hurt Vessel for any reason. They sat there on the floor for hours as Vessel cried, unable to allow II to touch him as he flinched back from every movement, apology after apology as II tried not to let himself cry so fiercely in the face of Vessel's terror, wanting to help him more than anything else. It took time for Vessel to calm down enough, to think past the fear, and let II wipe Vessel's tears as they flowed freely, slipping under the bottom rim of the other man's mask that he placed back on as soon as he slid to the floor in terror. It was one of II's biggest regrets so far, even if he knows it wasn't his fault, that this was the aftermath of everyone who'd ever hurt Vessel coming to the surface. Vessel had cried and cried, so many golden tears it could've filled the altar room twice over, silent sobs through parted lips as Vessel apologized over and over and over for something he never clarified. It broke II's heart to see the other man like this. To have Vessel come to him later that night, arms held close, bleeding as he apologized then, too, with such sad eyes and guilt flooding the bond. II had bandaged his arms up, asked if there were any more, and let Vessel rest his head in his lap as he let II's gentle fingers play with his hair and hum him a tune off-key. Waking up the morning after had been a nightmare for their muscles, stiff from the uncomfortable positions, but it had been worth it to be able to comfort Vessel when the other man had made the first move to receive that comfort.

II learns that Vessel enjoys documentaries and educational books, particularly ones about older architecture and marine biology, and makes it a point to buy the taller man a new one every week as Vessel is quick to consume each one. Vessel runs out of space on his floor quickly, and II finally says enough is enough to the clutter when Vessel trips over a too-high stack of books and slams his forehead into his doorknob as Elvira stares from Vessel's bed with laughing eyes. The noise summons a startled II, who is reassured by Vessel that everything was fine. It was not fine, II thought, but could overlook it since Vessel seemed so genuinely unbothered by the situation with a small smile on his face that melted II's heart to witness.

The next day, II and Vessel come home with a rickety bookshelf they found at a thrift store that II gently bullied, coerced if you will, Vessel into agreeing to buy. It fills quickly with books from each of them, Vessel's educational books and II's classic horror, but also each man's collection of CD's and vinyl's. A month later, and they need another bookshelf, and the second one is much sturdier than the first. II assured Vessel he didn't need to go with him, to the store or inside, but Vessel insisted, and so II led Vessel on a quest to find what they were looking for, holding hands tightly, or letting Vessel hold onto the hem or sleeve of his shirt.

II still has nightmares. At first, both were hesitant to talk about it, but Vessel caved first, to the surprise of both of them. A gentle, hesitant offer was sent down the bond, and II couldn't refuse. Within moments, he was at Vessel's door, holding an irritated Elvira in one arm and his pillow in the other.

Vessel is sorely tempted to eat II's nightmares but fears invading his privacy even further. It feels cruel, to be able to get rid of something so terrible but unable to force himself to do it, no matter how he longs for the taste.

It was the first time Vessel let II rest his head on his thigh. Over time, II goes to Vessel every night, seeking the other man's presence and assurance when II wakes up shaking, sobbing, unable to escape the pain in his chest from the knife sliding in. Vessel holds his hand and rubs circles into his back, both longing to hold one another but well aware that Vessel won't let him close enough. II is as content with what Vessel will allow as he can be when he longs to embrace him, to care for him and show him the affection he deserves. Vessel will read the books II bought him, and II will struggle to stay awake, to listen to the soothing calm of Vessel's voice as he reads the most boring book imaginable. When Vessel's fingers brush along the pointed tip of II's ears, a shiver runs down his spine, the touch like a lightning strike.

In turn, Vessel slowly begins seeking him out when he desperately wants to sleep but is physically unable to, and II lets the other man lay beside him, Vessel's arm pressed against his or his back. Sometimes, Vessel dares to rest his own head on II's thigh, mirroring a position becoming so familiar between them, letting II's calloused fingers card through his hair with such care that Vessel often can't hold the tears at bay.

II has grown used to Vessel appearing out of nowhere, the other man's footsteps and breaths silent, like a ghost wandering the halls. When II is caught particularly unawares on bad days, Vessel appearing will make him jump a foot in the air, and II will spend the next ten minutes reassuring Vessel he did nothing wrong when the man shrinks into himself, arms held close to his chest, gaze low and avoiding, bond slowly closing in on itself.

Some days, Vessel can't bring himself to speak. In the beginning, it was easier. II was sick, and then Vessel was sick, and things were in this weird limbo state of just making sure each other got better. It was easier to speak past the lump in his throat. Then things settled, and they had to learn to truly live around each other. Learning each others tells, what the little changes in expression mean, how best to approach each other on days their moods are bordering on detrimental to their health.

II was the one that made any and all meals. Vessel couldn't cook anything edible even if eating was a daily requirement and so dishes were left to Vessel at the end of mealtimes. II learns with time just where to and not to touch Vessel, and that sometimes, just brushing against the man is enough to shut him down on his worst days. At his worst, on days he can't speak through the weight in his chest that smothers his voice, Vessel needs to initiate contact but only if II assures him time and time again that its alright.

Vessel learns that II is afraid of spiders one morning as Vessel sits on his bed with his lyric journal in hand where II has just left to make himself some tea. A spike of fear travels along the bond right before a choked scream sounds through the manor. Vessel is on his feet and taking the stairs three steps at a time in an instant, shouting for II, desperate, the loudest he's ever spoken. There is a few tense seconds of silence and continued fear from the bond before Vessel hears II call out weakly from the kitchen.

Long strides get him there quickly, and Vessel finds II perched precariously on the island counter, pale and shaking as he points at something on the stove. Three pairs of eyes move separately to try and track what II is seeing and the bottom pair focuses on a small spider to the right of the stove. Its a tiny thing, barely the size of a quarter, and missing a leg. It stared with beady little eyes as Vessel's top pair moves to keep an eye on II's general direction. "I'm going to take it outside. I'll be right back." Vessel says, voice back to being just below talking volume.

He moves forward to pick it up with his bare hands, recognizing that it couldn't do any more harm than bite him. II whimpers, his fear abating only slightly, as Vessel walks past the counter to take the spider out front, releasing it into the foliage.

II clinged to his arm once he got back inside, face buried in the bunched up hood at his collar as Vessel held him as close as he dared. The embarrassed pout II wore was heaven-sent as he mumbled about being sorry and that he's always been afraid of spiders was worth the initial terror that he was hurt. After that, Vessel was the one designated to remove all bugs from the premises to spare II's poor heart.

Vessel's constant anxiety reared its ugly head and Vessel couldn't bring himself to make any noise some days, caught in his past like a fly in a web. He'd move through the house like a ghost, and II learned quickly to figure out what Vessel was trying to say through the vague feelings, almost thoughts, he sent purposefully down the bond.

As winter drew nearer, it became apparent during a week long bout of rain that the house needed more fixing up than they thought. Holes in the roof dripped water into the attic that dropped further drown into other parts of the house.

Vessel is clueless about home repairs, never having once lived in an actual house before his time here. He remembers with some amount of clarity that he has only ever known the small space of apartments, and never anything too big. II was happy to teach him though, having grown up helping his mothers with repairs on their house. Vessel was adorably out of place in the hardware store in town even after insisting he go with II, all fidgety hands and clinging to II's own hand like it was a lifeline.

Together, even through the arduous process of showing Vessel how to fix the roofing and repair holes, they make quick work of fixing up the house properly. The next storm leaves every inch of the interior dry, and finds the attic cleaned to perfection. They leave the space bare for later use if any ideas ever come to mind. The labor is tolerable with company, and Vessel makes a good student, II notes, and says as much to the taller man. The pretty blush and aversion of all six eyes to differing parts of the room is so terribly endearing it makes II's heart flutter.

Vessel wishes with everything in him that every day was peaceful, filled with II's laughter and bright smile. Yet, it is a futile wish when Vessel's mind is a lit fuse that can blow at any moment. Some days he wants to tear off his skin, choke up chunks of his owns sins and be made anew. Some days he wants to end it all and be done with the pain of existence.

Some days, those thoughts win. The bond is shut off and Vessel locks himself away. He learns quickly that he has to wait a little bit after shutting the bond off lest II come knocking with the most desperate, despaired look Vessel has ever seen and his resolve to harm himself crumbles like sand under the weight of II's wide, teary gaze. He never tells Vessel what it is that makes him so upset, and Vessel is too much of a coward to ask.

It's easier to find rest that way, letting himself bleed out and slip into a state of not-death, the only time he ever sleeps. When he wakes, he feels better than before, like he has gotten a full night's sleep for the first time in months. His mind is clearer, thoughts not so self-deprecating. Vessel can't bring himself to do it often, not due to a lack of want or conviction, but merely because every time he wakes up, leaves his room for the first time in days, II is there, waiting for him, so relieved and happy to see him, flooding the bond with it so thoroughly that Vessel couldn't possibly doubt him for those few hours where the other man frets over him, clings to his arm or side as long as Vessel has a hoodie to cover his pulse points. You'd think it would lead to Vessel killing himself more often if only for that fretting, but it fills him with such all consuming guilt that it eats away at his will to dig the knife into his arm and drag.

Now, since they've properly begun worshipping through their music, Sleep will pull Vessel into their realm to translate lyrics and melodies through dreams, or most often, nightmares. It doesn't matter the time of day, whether Vessel is doing something or not, there is no warning, only his vision blurring, head going fuzzy, and then the fall to the ground. Vessel wakes in one of many of Sleep's realms, and the God bombards him with a melody screaming in his bleeding ears, so loud and reverberating through his skull no matter how beautiful. Words flit through his mind, lingering in his vision when he manages to open his eyes. Sleep gets... upset when Vessel is unable to understand what they are trying to tell him, to show him, and will keep him trapped in their realm for as long as it takes.

It scares the shit out of II every time, as there is no warning. At first, the only way II could tell something was wrong was Vessel's bond going fuzzy around the edges and II, concerned, goes searching for him only to find him on the ground, entirely unresponsive but breathing heavily. When II begs Sleep for answers, Vessel's head pillowed in his lap as II strokes his hair away from the mask, the God give a bland answer about offering up lyrics and melodies for worship.

Each time Vessel wakes, frantically searching for a pen and paper to write on, he looks more and more worn out. It worries ii even further when his movements grow slow and sluggish, all six eyes unable to focus on anything. Weeks and weeks of this behavior occur, of Vessel stumbling around the house like a zombie, of new bruises forming when he's not in a safe spot to enter Sleep's realm, the tears and migraines and stiff muscles when he wakes up. Weeks of Vessel slowly losing the ability to focus during practice, and his ability to write takes a steep slide into incoherency.

Vessel is sitting at his piano, frustrated and teary eyed and so, so tired, when Sleep comes for him again, waking in a red forest with a sword in hand. II finds him in the waking world slumped over the keys after the discordant bang startles him from his book.

II lugs Vessel out of the chair and up the stairs to the other man's room, familiar with this process by now. Its mentally exhausting to be so worried and stressed for the other man, and II can't imagine how much Vessel is hiding from him when he is in the waking world.

When Vessel is laid down and properly covered by a blanket, II stands at his bedside, ghosting a hand over his now unmasked cheek, wiping the tears from his top pair of eyes with reverence.

II focuses on the presence of his God at the back of his mind, a steady constant even as distant as they are right now. They won't be distant for long if II has anything to say about it.

"Sleep, we need to talk." II says aloud while simultaneously gripping the bond with their God and tugging.

The furrow of Vessel's brow eases as the God's presence fills the room with a suffocating tension. "Why have you called for me so disrespectfully my Second?"

The myriad of his gods voices feels like being hit upside the head by a brick, instant agony lighting up like fire in his temples.

"My God, Vessel needs to sleep during this. His body can't take much more, and his mind is becoming more frayed."

"His emotions rarely leave sadness! I- I can't really make him smile anymore, he rarely speaks, do you understand what that does to me? To see him like that? What it must be like for him?"

"It's his holy duty to be constantly awake-"

"I don't fucking care about his holy duty! You're killing him!"

"My Vessel will not die from this!" Sleep's voice slams into him and II crumbles to the floor, clutching at the sides of his head, tears springing to his eyes at the heightened agony.

"You may not be killing his body but you are killing his mind! His heart and mind are still human, and humans need sleep. We can't function without it! I thought as the God of Sleep, you would know this!" II manages through gritted teeth, unwilling to bend beneath the weight of their God's displeasure.

"His heart is safe! It is mine-"

"He can't even read his books anymore, can't focus on them, and if he is to stay awake, he needs something to do! He will lose his mind, is losing his mind! Just- Please, please my God, I am begging you, let him rest. I will gladly take on his duty if I must, just- please." II pleads, falling forward to clutch at the sheets beside Vessel, the other man still as the dead except for the rising and falling of his chest.

"I-" the God starts, at a loss for words, "I will take time to think on it. For now, I will allow it this once."

"That is all I can ask for, Sleep." II relents, bitter fury burning within him as his head aches something fierce, "Thank you."

The God leaves quickly, as though escaping II's fury and the man is left to stew in it, staring forlornly at Vessel as he is left to wither to nothing at the hands of one who claims to care but will not grant him things to keep him healthy.

"Why do you continue to needlessly suffer? Why you?" II whispers, placing a butterfly light kiss on Vessel's forehead.

II leaves for only a moment to grab a book, putting some of his own music on quietly as background noise with the radio. Grabbing a blanket and draping it over the both of them once II climbs onto Vessel's bed, II settles in to wait for Vessel to come out of Sleep's realm. A journal and pen sits nearby so the other man can write down whatever he needs to, always waking in a frenzy with the need to write whatever he can remember down. Elvira hops up on the bed and lays at their feet, purring loudly in contentment as she kneads the blanket. Vessel's bond is fuzzy in II's head in a way he's never felt before, and only a small part of II's anger abates at realizing the God kept to their word. Vessel sleeps, truly rests, for the first time since II has known him.

::

When Vessel wakes, it is with a clearer head than he's had in months. His migraine has eased to something smaller, more manageable and finds the melody his God was trying to show him is remembered far easier. Easier to replicate, to add on to, to make his own.

He wonders why his God allowed him a reprieve from his holy duty. Does not let himself think too far into it, simply grateful for the rest.

::

Vessel is in love with II.

He knows it with every fiber of his being. Feels it ache it his bones when II holds his hand, skin warm against his own, chasing away the chill in Vessel's fingers. Every breathe inhaled and exhaled is the reverent sigh of II's name, Vessel breathing the other man in like oxygen.

Vessel is in love with II when he leans his head on Vessel's clothed shoulder, brushes the hair back from his face, holds his hand and rubs gentle circles into his palm. Wipes the tears from all six of his eyes and lets his hand linger on his cheek a moment too long, gaze soft in a way no one else's ever has been when looking at someone as worthless as Vessel. II talking with his hands, waving them about to emphasize whatever he is saying, is endearing despite it scaring Vessel sometimes. It is never II's fault, only Vessel's past still haunting him.

II always brings Vessel a coffee, with way too much vanilla and hazelnut creamer just as he likes it, even though he knows that II drinks floral tea's and has no reason to make coffee at all. It is something II doesn't have to do, but enjoys doing for Vessel. The taller man is so unused to someone caring about something as small and simple as his drink preferences that he cried the first time II brought him a coffee in a brand new mug, a golden color with beautiful purple bellflowers painted on it. He dripped tears all over his notebook, completely ruining that page.

Vessel is in love with II when he wraps bandages around his arms and thighs, puts ointment over the smaller cuts on his ankles. When he kisses his knuckles afterwards with such sad eyes that Vessel's guilt consumes him whole, almost makes him want to never bring a blade to his own flesh again just to stop that look but knows he doesn't have the strength, nor the love for himself, to stop.

Vessel is in love with the way II's eyes light up when Vessel sings. He is in love with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, his nose scrunching more the bigger it gets. Vessel is in love with his laugh, and the way he breathes. In love with the way II dedicates himself to every task. Each and every part of II's life is done with utmost sincerity and full effort.

His drumming is superb, and Vessel is in love with II's love for what he does. He knows every part of his instrument inside and out, hours and hours of dedicating himself to learning and perfecting everything he knows. II has explained it all to him a multitude of times, and Vessel wishes for him to explain a hundred times more just to see the brightness of II's eyes and the grin that splits his face apart so beautifully.

The quiet moments simply basking in one another presence might be Vessel's favorite. II never asks him to speak, or when rambling about one of his interests, never demands he stop talking entirely. He is careful with his movements when he doesn't need to be, and Vessel worries less and less that II will hurt him if he does something wrong. The worry is unfounded in the first place, but Vessel has only ever known hurt.

Vessel is afraid. Afraid to love and be loved in return, despite his initial wish to his God. Everyone he has ever loved has hurt him, and he knows II will not care for him long. Other vessels will be on their way any time now, and II will realize how pathetic Vessel really is. Vessel cannot tell him, will not tell him. What they have now is enough, and there is no world in which II loves him back.

::

II is in love with Vessel.

His soul longs for the other man, every gentle touch and silent laugh is cherished, memorized and stored in II's heart. Every moment where Vessel is calm, happy enough to sing quietly to II without the barrier of his mask, II falls a little more in love.

Vessel's voice is like a siren call, haunting yet beautiful, pulling II in like a moth to a flame with ease, whether he is singing, speaking, or sobbing. A light in the dark.

II is in love with the way Vessel meticulously arranges every item they've bought for Sleep's altar so everything is evenly placed on the table. Every new candle, every new antique coin that Vessel lays down, is given its own spot where it will stay. The table is lovingly wiped down every week, a golden offering plate they found at a thrift store shined to perfection where Vessel keeps a large white candle surrounded by smaller red candles of differing sizes. The antique candle snuffer always lays right beside it, lined up evenly along the length of the plate. Worshiping alongside Vessel, connecting to their God and letting their essence flow through them as one is closest they get, feeling as though their souls have intertwined. Worship through music feels much the same, and II revels in the smile it brings to Vessel's face, the tranquility to their bond.

II is in love with Vessel's smile, sharp fangs glinting in the light, peeking over his bottom lip with his smaller smiles and bared in full view with his grin's. Every time II managed to bring the light back to Vessel's eyes felt like he had been gifted the universe itself, butterflies flitting around in his chest and threatening to steal the very breath from his lungs.

II is in love with the shy little grin, the pretty little blush, the way his six eyes turn almost to half-moons, that Vessel gets when II compliments him. Vessel is always quick to refute, to change the subject, but the blush remains.

Vessel acknowledges II and the effort he has put into his drumming in a way no one ever has. Not just his drumming, but with everything. II dedicates himself to everything he does and Vessel sees that, has complimented him on it.

Its... its all II ever wanted. And yet, even though II loves him, Vessel is not going to be fixed by that love.

II is afraid.

Vessel has been pulling away from him. He worries he has done something wrong, but Vessel has mastered the art of shutting down the bond, of projecting calm most other times and hiding behind his mask.

Every time the bond is shut off, it's like II's heart has been ripped from his chest. Its agony, but he brought this upon himself, and he would never force Vessel to do anything he didn't want to. So II suffers, trying his best to hide how much it hurts to see Vessel suffering, cherishes every touch, every moment that Vessel lets II care for him. Cherishes the nights where they lay side by side, talking about everything and nothing, arms pressed together and hands held close, II grateful for the contact.

It's all he can ask for.

::

When Vessel asked to go get more books, picking at the skin on his fingers with a nervous expression, II couldn't refuse him. Vessel, asking to go out in public? There was no chance in the world that II wouldn't take him, even if it was just to feel the other man's hand in his as they drove.

They come up on a small bookstore that Vessel says carries a lot of informational books based on previous visits and II makes sure they're holding hands when they walk in. Vessel sticks close, a silent shadow at his side, as ii leads them to a section near the front with all the informational text, floor to ceiling bookshelves lining the walls. Briefly, II glances at the titles and none of the selections particularly interest him. "Mind if I go to the horror section?" He asks, watching Vessel closely and keeping on eye on the open bond for any changes in emotion.

The panic that flits through Vessel's bond is squashed before II can really get a hold of it, and Vessel is nodding, making a small shooing motion with an equally small smile. II grins back, squeezing Vessel's hand gently before going off to make a quick trip a few aisles down. Vessel was clearly hesitant to be left alone, but he was more familiar with this bookstore and probably felt a bit safer to be left alone as long as II was inside. Even so, II really does come back quickly as the longer he took, the more anxiety strummed over the bond.

When he returns, II gazes up at Vessel with soft eyes as he goes over the summary on the back of some large textbook he was considering buying, blue eyes flitting around the store curiously, hand back in Vessel's.

He ignores the stares, the whispers from the old folk and the giggling of the group of teens nearby, gaze catching on the man re-organizing the items on the back shelf behind the register. Something about him pulls II's gaze back, a faint brush of something in his chest that causes his heart rate to pick up slightly. His hair is a pale blonde, brushing his shoulders in loose curls about like Vessel's did when they first met. When he turns to help an older gentleman, II's eyes focus in on the other man's first, a deep blue like the darkest depths of the ocean, a comparison he knows stems from Vessel's reading choices that II happily listens to him read. They're framed by pretty, long, dark lashes that flutter when the mans eyes suddenly glance up and catch II's, the black of his eyebrow piercing glinting in the artificial lights.

Surprise just barely travels along the bond and Vessel is turning to look at what has caught II's eye. Vessel is enraptured immediately, moving forward with a confidence II didn't know the man possessed.

The book in his hand is placed upon the checkout table as soon as the other customer is finished and has moved away, and II quickly puts his pick down as well. Impatience causes Vessel's fingers to fiddle with each other, nervous energy seeping from his pores and flooding the bond.

Ah, not so confident then, just... eager.

The worker smiles, a beauty mark near the outer corner of his eye disappearing as the action scrunched his face in a cute manner. His greeting is jovial, a bit too loud, and Vessel fights valiantly to hide his resulting flinch.

His nametag is unreadable, and not from a lack of trying on either of their parts, or lack of letters. Both II and Vessel can see the ink penned onto the fresh tag, the little smiley face with a detached hand holding a flower drawn beside the name visible, but the letters themselves are fuzzy, blurred to the point of being incomprehensible.

"You're really pretty." The worker blurts and Vessel's gaze snaps up to find the worker staring at him, eyes wide, hands frozen where they're putting the book in a small paper bag.

Vessel tilts his head, messy hair curling around his mask as he stares through the middle pair of eye holes, his other eyes closed. He looks down at II, who smiles up at him and back at the worker, nudging his shoulder against Vessel's arm. Vessel realizes quickly that the worker is talking to him, and a blush pinkens his cheek beneath his mask, lips thinning to hold back the shy smile.

"Thank you. You're beautiful." Vessel compliments sincerely in return, and the workers whole face lights up.

A grin pulls at his lips, and Sleep's presence roars at the back of their minds, singing their elation at this meeting.

"Thanks. I'm ___. He/they pronouns. And you?" His name fuzzes up, going staticky in their ears.

Vessel ducks his head, averting his gaze, so II speaks up for them. "I'm II, this is Vessel. He/him for me."

Vessel nods in agreement before realizing that wasn't a proper answer, "He/him for me too. Pleasure to meet you."

___ still smiles, taking their strange names in stride and not even seeming to think them odd, or care about the masks. He opens his mouth to speak again, but quickly closes it when a voice calls out to them from the back of the store, upset. "___, what have I told you about chatting up the customers! They're here to buy books and leave! Don't make me tell you again!"

___ hunches into themself, a pretty blush of embarrassment spreading along his cheeks and over his nose. "I'm sorry. I'll get your receipt."

They're a bit more subdued and neither Vessel or II can keep the frowns from their faces. II glances back at the store owner, an older man in a plaid shirt and blue jeans pulled comically high on his waist, with a face as red as a tomato in his anger.

___ hands over the receipt and Vessel takes it, jolting back when their hands meet briefly and a current of electricity zaps his skin. ___ jerks back too, surprised, looking between their hand and Vessel's with the expression of someone whose just come upon a daunting puzzle.

The worker looks back at their boss to see the man still glaring fiercely, and hunches even further into themself, glancing only briefly back at Vessel and II with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, have a nice day! I hope you enjoy the books."

II returns the goodbye with a smile of his own and pulls Vessel along with him out of the store as the other man continues staring at ___. "That was strange. Could you see the letters on his nametag? Did their name go fuzzy when he said it like I heard?" II says, confusion radiating lightly from his side of the bond as Vessel clutches his hand and follows dutifully beside him, a little behind, to the car.

Vessel agrees though he's lost in thought, going over the moment their hands touched again and again and again. Their touch was electric, his blood racing at the contact.

Touching that worker felt like touching II. It felt... right. Like something in Vessel's soul settled, like something slotted into place. A missing puzzle piece.

Vessel comes back to himself when they reach the car, the receipt crinkling in his hand when he sets the books down on the floorboard. Taking out the receipt to check the prices of the books, Vessel sees something drawn on it with pen and yellow highlighter.

"II, what flower is this?" Vessel asks quietly, holding the receipt out to show the other man.

II pauses from where he was putting the car in reverse, Slipknot playing quietly over the speakers and turns his head to get a good look at the flower. "A... tulip maybe? I'm not sure. I don't know a lot about flowers, I'm sorry. Did the cashier draw that? Its surprisingly detailed considering- where are you going? Vessel?!"

Vessel is opening the car door as II is pulling out of the parking spot, running back inside as II calls after him. The bell over the door jingles and the cashier turns to look with an air of confusion as Vessel ducks his head, speed walking over to the section he remembers had books on plants. Scanning them quickly, Vessel pulls out one about the language of flowers, receipt from before still clutched in his hand. Those same hands shake from the anxiety, but he has to do this. He wants to do this. Needs to.

The bell on the door rings again as II enters, finding Vessel at the register again and walking to his side with a questioning look in his eyes. He smiles at the cashier as they grin back, already ringing up the book on flowers.

"This flower, what is it?" Vessel holds out the first receipt as the cashier smiles, drawing something on the second, newer one.

"A tulip. This is a clematis." They smirk, a little mischievous thing as he uses a pink highlighter to color it in.

"You know a lot about flowers then?" Vessel asks, feeling emboldened by the wry smile.

"A bit, yes. You'll have to figure the meanings out yourself though." They challenge, and Vessel narrows his middle set of eyes in acceptance of that challenge.

II huffs a laugh at Vessel's side, never having seen him so bold out in public. II's hand in Vessel's is warm, soothing his nerves. More customers come in, the bell over the door ringing, and ___ apologizes but says they have to get back to work. When he hands over the receipt, there is a new flower with its name written next to it, the clematis. Vessel smiles, thanking him with a pretty little smile that II adores. II glances to the side, seeing the owner of the store staring irritatedly at the pretty cashier.

II drags Vessel out of the bookstore, even though he, too, wants to stay. Wants to ogle and conversate and discover why they're both so drawn to him. Sleep's excitement is palpable as they drive away, a heady thrum through their bones.

::

Vessel and II go back to the bookstore the next week only to find the worker not there at all. After the disappointment of that settles in, they decide to keep going back for the next few days at differing times to see if it was just a fluke, but the pretty blonde never shows up again. Vessel quickly loses the meager amount of courage he'd scrounged up to leave the house that often and goes back to following II around closely, a hand fisted in the other shirts as he keeps close in stores.

It was peaceful, something of a routine they'd established over the months. Following practice, they always sat in the living room on the dingy couch they'd found on the side of the road a couple months back, reading or listening to music in their own little bubbles. It was comfortable and safe, even on Vessel's bad days.

Almost a month later, things take another turn towards change.

Practice over for the day, II and Vessel were putting away their respective instruments, II checking over his drumset for any damage and Vessel storing away his guitar and mic stand. The black of their skin was slowly seeping away, down into the charcoal on their arms. II was admiring Vessel's muscles, despite the bandages, arms bare for the moment since Vessel likes to challenge himself on his vocal control by doing some moderate workout exercises and singing at the same time, and gets too hot in his usual layers.

Sleep's voice echoing through the room was a surprise, the Gods presence coming back full force, having been distant for well over a months time now.

"The third vessel will be here within the week. Their death draws near."

"Already? I've only been here for a bit under a year." II frowns, a little sad that another would be joining so soon.

He loves what he's made with Vessel here at home. Another person would disrupt the routine. Well, if they're a vessel chosen by Sleep, they'll likely get along well. II likes to think he and Vessel do. Perhaps another won't be so bad.

"Yes. You will like them, I'm sure of it." Sleep is giddy, their voices surrounding them with a gentleness they don't usually strive for.

Vessel smiles, strained, bond coming across distant and unfocused. II lets his worry pulse once, twice, in question and frowns at the lack of a response. Sleep leaves them be, their excitement still strumming gently over the bond they all share long after they've left.

Vessel won't let II touch him, after that. The sudden cutoff of any physical contact is like torture and II doesn't understand. Where once Vessel would lean into II's hand when he brushed it lovingly over his shoulder as he passed, Vessel was pulling away. Where Vessel would let II run his fingers through his hair and lightly down his back while they sat together on the couch doing their own thing, Vessel never even sat on the couch at all. He simply grabbed a book off the shelves they'd put in the living room and left. II can't hide the hurt at seeing Vessel walk away from him, without even turning his head in II's direction.

Vessel won't speak to him, not even a whisper or a hum of acknowledgment, just... completely ignoring II in a way he never has before. Its killing him. Killing them both, for Vessel to be doing this. Pulling away and isolating himself is causing damage on both ends.

Avoiding some touch and most conversation for a day or two was completely normal for Vessel, and II genuinely didn't mind, understanding that the other man needed space but this? It was the fact that Vessel started avoiding II after they got news of a third vessel that was worrying him. Vessel didn't come to II's room to lay together while II slept, and the door was shut and locked when II went to Vessel's room.

The sight of the door closed at all, not left open a crack as an invitation, was telling enough... but locked as well? II purposefully sends his worry and his question and confusion across the bond and is met with it being shut down entirely. II heads back to his room, dejected and trying not to cry at the rejection.

Vessel leans against his door and waits for II's footsteps to recede before sliding down to rest his head between his knees. Its better this way, he tells himself. He's just limiting the contact so it doesn't hurt as badly when II leaves him for another, for someone better. Someone not so broken.

He repeats it, trying to convince himself even as the vines on his walls shudder and writhe in pain, over and over and over again as sobs suffocate him, muffled under his mask, as Vessel feels II's bond radiate confusion, so much hurt. Tries his hardest to ignore how badly he is hurting II, how much he hates doing this to the other man.

He digs a knife into his arms, his thighs, along the expanse of his hips and breaching the skin over his stomach just to feel something other than the agony of doing this to II. Of doing this to himself, denying himself the chance to be loved because all he's ever known is his loved ones hurting him.

Vessel only knows how to pull away, to distance himself and act as though he doesn't exist. It is what he has always done, its all he knows. It keeps him safe. He can't be hurt if there is no one around to hurt him.

This new person is going to change everything. Everything. II is going to have someone new to hang around, someone not so useless. Not so pathetic. Worthless. He's going to realize that there is new company to keep, and toss Vessel away like he was worthless. (He is.) Its how they all leave him in the end.

If he pushes II away first, maybe it won't feel like he was ripping his heart out again, like it does now.

Hours later when Vessel finally feels II's bond go fuzzy with sleep, he feels something else almost immediately. Fear.

He makes his way out of his room to II's, silent as a wraith. II's door is open a foot or so in invitation, Vessel realizes with a ghost of a smile, and the hinges barely creak as Vessel squeezes inside. II stirs in his bed, curled up around his pillow, face scrunched up in distress as Vessel feels a nightmare clawing at his mind. Vessel wipes away the single tear that falls from II's eye, letting his hand linger a moment longer than he should've. II is beautiful in the dim light of the moon through the curtains, thick eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

Vessel is in love with him. So completely and utterly in love with him. He always was one to fall fast and deep, and it fucked him over every time. He wouldn't know what a good relationship looked like, even if II loved him back. Vessel was too fucked in the head, too damaged even if he can't remember the faces or the names of the people who did this to him. What they did has stuck to his very soul, it couldn't be cast away with his new birth as a Vessel for his beloved God. Everything they said, every snide or degrading comment, every injury, burned into his brain, into every atom. They took what they wanted, and left him fractured in the aftermath. His past, even now, was eating him from inside.

II leans further into Vessel's hand, and he holds his breath, afraid he woke II up. II doesn't open his eyes, his breathing remaining even, and Vessel allows himself to let that breath go. Indulging himself further, something he only truly allows when he and II are in bed and II finally falls asleep, Vessel traces the curve of the other man's cheekbone with a reverence that is bone deep. Carefully, he follows the curve of II's jaw then back up over the hairs of his eyebrows, trying to memorize everything about him.

Finally, Vessel rests a palm against his temple, clawing feather light against II's skin, being so gentle, so careful as to not hurt him. Then, he pulls. The nightmare follows the action, swirling, oily black caught in his claws. Anxiety makes its home in Vessel's gut, but he follows through after the creases between II's eyebrows smoothes out, the fuzzy hurricane of distress over the bond calming to tranquil waters.

Vessel lifts up the nightmare, careful of his sharp teeth and swallows it whole. The taste of something not quite divine, something more bitter, settles in his stomach like a leaden weight, but Vessel longs for more.

He blinks, and between one second and the next, the scenery has changed. No longer is he in II's room, but downstairs in the foyer. It isn't what Vessel was expecting. He was expecting to be laying down in a dingy alley, bleeding out, just as II had died. Like the nightmare he'd eaten before.

Instead, he moves forward as II, long strides with short legs, frantically calling out for Vessel himself. In his chest, there is nothing. His heart is racing, but there is a void, like something is missing. He shoves open every door in the bottom area before moving to the stairs. The vines grab at his feet, wrapping around his ankles and pulling, trying to slow him down, stop him. Panic has lit every atom on fire.

Vessel's room is empty, completely bare. He isn't there. He moves to the altar room next and it is there that Vessel, no, II, finds Vessel. Vessel stands in the middle of the pitch black altar room, something wet under his feet. A candle flickers, flame burst to life, and the floor shines red. He trails his gaze up Vessel's form, blood staining the cuff of his jeans, dripping down his arms as a knife hangs loosely in his hand.

Vessel looks up and II is caught in his gaze. He isn't wearing his mask, all six lifeless eyes crying golden tears. His posture is stiff and tense, like a body without a soul, a dead man walking.

"Vessel?" II's voice speaks, the sound coming from his own mouth and he can't breathe, he can't-

His breaths come out in short pants as he stumbles forward on shaking legs, arms outstretched, hovering just before they touch Vessel. Eyes wild, he speaks again when Vessel doesn't answer.

"Vessel, are you-"

Vessel brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, a finger placed over his lips to shush II, tilting his head in the process. A large smile splits across his face, baring fangs. He stops talking immediately at the gesture, tilting his head in turn, tears gathered in his eyes. Blood drips steadily down Vessel's arm in concerning amounts, lost in the sea of blood around him as it hits the floor.

The tears fall as Vessel turns, one arm dropping and the other raising, back facing II.

Vessel brings the knife up to his throat and II lunges forward with a shout, but his feet won't move. He is stuck, forced to watch as Vessel touches the skin of his neck with the sharp tip of the knife and drags.

He crumbles, inky black gushing from the open wound-

Vessel is brought back to himself with a start, the claws of his hand still laid on II's skin but not digging in, thankfully.

II turns his head in his sleep, a peaceful expression on his face so contradictory to the maelstrom of emotions on Vessel's own visage, and Vessel jerks back as though burned, skin tingling where they touched.

II's nightmare... it- it was about him. About him dying.

As silently as he arrived, Vessel leaves, everything in the room as it was before, like he had never been there in the first place. His door clicks shut behind him, and Vessel stands there for what could have been eternity but was only minutes.

II can never know what Vessel does to ease his tired mind overgrown with weeds of self-hate. Never.

II, woken by something he couldn't name, pads down the hallway in his socks and comes to stand outside Vessel's still shut door. He reaches for the handle with bleary eyes, sleep addled brain not quite caught up to the days earlier events.

II's hand hovers over the doorknob as the seconds pass by, before he turns, frowning, and shuffles back to his own room with a look of utter devastation upon his countenance.

Vessel hears him come and go, some small part of him, a small part he beats down violently, longing for II to have turned the knob... Vessel hadn't locked it behind him, this time.

::

II manages another day of this behavior before he breaks under the weight of his longing and confusion and desperation. Sleep had come to them again, separately as Vessel has been quick to leave the room when II enters, and informed them that the third would arrive tonight. II acknowledges this and goes to fix up the room. They'd bought any furniture they deemed necessary and brought it all back to the house, though they'd left the bedsheets for last, intending to put them on right before the vessel actually arrived. That was the worst car ride of II's short life after his rebirth. It was silent the entire time, even at the store. Vessel couldn't, or perhaps wouldn't, speak to him and only nodded or shook his head. He refused II's hand when offered and held his arms close as if to protect himself the entire trip through the store, head bowed low and bond shut off. It was like torture, to be so physically near but denied the right to comfort the taller man, denied his voice, and feel so far away at the same time.

Vessel would wince through every action that required him to use his arms or bend and it worried II to an extreme, but Vessel would not speak to him. Would not look at II when he asked, so gentle, if he needed his arms bandaged again. If he was hurt anywhere else.

Not once since Vessel began ignoring him did he remove his mask. He kept it on at all times, so II could never see his expression, knowing it would bare Vessel's true feelings to him with one glance, as expressive as the man is.

Entering the room that would become the thirds, II finds the bed already made. Vessel must have already done it, since there was no one else who could have.

A smile pulls at II's lips for a moment before it falls. He misses Vessel. Greatly. So he goes searching for him, heart in his throat.

II finds Vessel a bit into the forest, The Language of Flowers book opened as he crouches in front of some wild flowers. He places a makeshift bookmark, a leaf, inside and then stands to stretch. II sees the deep scratches along Vessel's hips when his shirt rises, red and irritated with dried blood still caked around some of the edges, but not deep like the scars on his arms.

"Vessel, we need to talk." II says, trying to keep his voice even so as to not startle Vessel too badly. "And, please, let me bandage those. If you won't let me, please, please do it yourself.

He knows announcing his presence with his voice is better than touching Vessel without warning, but still feels terrible for the way Vessel jumps, hunching over and making himself as small as someone of his stature can.

He turns slowly, head bowed, bond radiating unsurety. Vessel forces himself to look up, exhausted, wondering if II was finally going to call him out, finally get angry like Vessel had been expecting him to this entire time. II's side of the bond is a mix of exasperation and gentle reassurance. His bond could be a lie, Vessel tells himself. Vessel could lie through the bond, though he hasn't really been doing it as much. There is no point when II is becoming easily able to see through him anyway, and it fills him with guilt. Cutting off the bond entirely works better for him.

Vessel shakes his head in response, refusing but still unwilling to speak, arms coming to wrap around his middle in a mockery of a hug, the book pressed uncomfortably into his ribs.

"Please Vessel, I want to talk. I want to know why you've been avoiding me. Its killing me! Did I do something wrong? You only have to tell me and we can try and fix it!"

Vessel shakes his head frantically, wrought with guilt as he moves towards the house. He never wanted II to think any of this was his fault. Its Vessel's. Always Vessel's.

"It's not you."

II's eyes soften at the the low murmur of Vessel's voice, hoarse from disuse.

"Something with you then? That's alright. We can try to work past whatever it is. I know you've been distant since Sleep told us of the third vessel. Things won't change between us if that's what you're worried about!"

Vessel's metaphorical hackles raise, and he flinched as though struck.

II hit the nail right on the head, and Vessel panics, lashing out in a way he never has before.

"Do you think you're going to be some sort of savior? Doing all these things for me? Being so kind and understanding? Save the pathetic man who hurts himself whenever he's upset because he's too weak to deal with his emotions in a non-destructive way?" Vessel spits defensively as he backs away towards the porch, and immediately regrets it by the panic in his eyes that flashes like a lightning strike over their bond.

"I'm not here to be your savior, Vessel! You deserve to have good things! You deserve to be loved!" II's bond radiates sincerity and that makes Vessel even more upset, turning to face away from II.

"I don't deserve anything! Everyone I knew made damn sure I knew that with every atom in my body. They beat it into me all my life so I'd never forget and I haven't- I can't forget. Please, II, I just want to be left alone." The lie tastes like ash on his tongue, but he won't take back what he said, he refuses to.

"I'll spend the rest of my eternity as a vessel proving to you that I care for you if that's what it takes. I would lay the world to waste at your feet if you asked it of me. I'll leave you alone for now, as you wish, but do not expect me to stop caring for you, to stop loving you."

"You- you... you love me?"

"I do. With every piece of my heart and soul."

II smiles, a sad thing, because he can feel Vessel's emotions through the bond right now. Can feel the other man's love in return and it makes II's heart sing. It makes II's heart wither to nothing at the fear, the resignation, the self loathing that soon overpowers that love. II wants to cry when the bond shuts off, when Vessel's mouth closes with a resounding click, and the other man turns and walks away without a word. The front door slams behind him even as II calls after him desperately but receives no answer, scrambling to follow.

The foyer is dark despite the afternoon light outside, vines writhing along the walls agitatedly. They move away from his feet before he has a chance to trip over them as he climbs the stairs quickly, devastated as plants brush his feet and ankles so gently, like a lover's caress. Vessel is in his room in seconds, every vine in the hallway converging over his door, completely blocking II from entering.

II should've known this would happen... he- he shouldn't have said anything. II covers his face with his hands, sliding down the wall opposite Vessel's door, trying in vain to choke back the sobs tearing from his lips, heart aching in his chest like someone was actively squeezing it.

::

Vessel ignores II when the other man tries to speak to him as Vessel leaves his room hours later. He smells of blood, a hoodie cinched around his throat hiding most of his skin from view with the help of a pair of black jeans. II follows Vessel through the house silently, giving up halfway down the staircase as he realizes where they're going. II, wondering desperately if he could fix this before they met up with third, doesn't realize he's forgotten his jacket until the chill of the late spring air sends shivers straight down his spine.

They walk in silence as Vessel's stride keeps him just out of II's reach, the bright shine of the moon above like silver through Vessel's hair. When II's teeth start chattering from the sudden cold, body already getting used to the warmer days as spring transitions slowly into summer, Vessel removes his hoodie and hands it over to II without a word. II stammers out a refusal, shivering still, Vessel stops walking entirely, turning to face II with a mouth set in a grim line, hoodie held out with an air of stubbornness.

II's gaze is caught on Vessel's covered arm, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he is the cause of the new wounds Vessel etched into his flesh. Vessel shakes the hoodie to bring II's attention back to it, and reluctantly, II takes it. He slips it over his head, the sleeves far too long, and it smells like iron and home, like spilled coffee and vanilla and whatever shampoo Vessel uses. It smells like Vess and II wants to cry.

Vessel turns and continues walking, bond a dark void that is swallowing up II's heart, and soon enough they're nearly to the veil between Sleep's realm and the rest of the world. Right at the edge lays a body, weak arms struggling to push themselves up. A mask is clutched in hand, loose blonde curls hiding their face from view.

Vessel pauses in his stride, tilting his head as realization dawns on him slowly. II continues ahead with the intention of helping the third up, but he too pauses once he gets a good look, squinting unsurely before a smile breaks across his face. Sleep's excitement is overwhelming, thrumming with anticipation, and Vessel can barely think past it.

The third looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps and the first and second vessel are met with eyes like deep ocean waters, with a little beauty mark near the outer corner.

Its the worker from that bookstore they'd met before. The one they were so drawn to.

They're the third vessel.

::

(Yes, I did in fact make them walk to meet III. Its tradition now. I don't care that they own a car. Its pre-transformation bonding time 🔫

Not that yall will notice, or can, depending on what site yall use, I purposefully made the _ three in number each time I used it. ;)

Tulips mean 'there's sunshine in your smile" and clematis flowers can stand for "mischief". Use this as link for reference. https://hortnews.extension.iastate.edu/flowers-and-their-meanings-language-flowers

Time for III hehehehe)

#sleep token #ii x vessel #ii sleep token #vessel sleep token #sleep token sleep #fanfic #polyvessels #poly sleep token #poly!vessels

[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 31: Crying, truth serum*

tw: restraints, choking, magical whump, noncon drugging (sort of? forcing someone to drink a potion), interrogation, betrayal, torture mention

*alternate prompt

Halloween whump!

...

Whumper sat down at the small table with a bag of candy. He dropped it on the table with a thump, catching Whumpee's attention.

Whumpee's eyes went wide, and he started salivating. The food Whumper had given him was so bland, and he bet the candy tasted like heaven.

"Oh, this caught your eye?" He chuckled, and grabbed a piece. "I love Halloween. Trick or treat, Whumpee?"

"Treat...?" he answered hesitantly, knowing full well that none of Whumper's games ever ended well. He was extremely aware of the ropes digging into his skin, keeping him from grabbing the bag of candy and feasting on it.

"Good choice." Whumper was unwrapping the candy painfully slowly, making it known to Whumpee every second of his enjoyment. He popped the small chocolate in his mouth, with an "Mmmmm" and a "Ohh, that's good." Chewing it slowly and thoroughly, watching as Whumpee's mouth gaped.

He couldn't take watching it anymore, thought he knew he probably shouldn't. "May I-may I have a piece?"

He looked at Whumpee thoughtfully.

"...please?"

"Sure, why not. Open wide." He walked over to Whumpee, wrapper in hand, and shoved it down Whumpee's throat.

He started choking and sputtering, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His throat started to burn, and he tried desperately to get the wrapper out.

Whumper grabbed another candy to unwrap, dropping the confections in one hand and shoving the wrapper into Whumpee's throat, pushing the first down again with it.

He coughed up the wrappers and pushed them out with his tongue, tears flowing down his face. "Y-you can stop now," he sobbed when the worst of the choking stopped. "I don't want any more candy-" His voice hitched on a cough, and Whumper backed away.

"Okay, then." He popped the candies in his mouth and picked another piece from the bag. Whumpee was relieved to watch him place the wrapper on the table. "You said you wanted a treat, so how about something to wash it down?" He pulled out a small glass vial from inside his jacket. The vial itself was beautiful, with its faceted sides and smooth curves, but the liquid it carried was a gorgeous bright green.

He didn't trust Whumper, but he couldn't struggle as Whumper unplugged the vial and poured its contents into his mouth. He swallowed, not wanting to anger Whumper by spitting it out and wasting it.

He sat down again, picking up a clipboard and pen he kept in the room. "Halloween is a great time, for things like witches and spells and potions. That lovely little drink was a gift from my friend, and her work is quite magical."

He had heard rumors of witches in his area, but no one had ever dared to interfere with one; they were too powerful, too unpredictable.

"Let's see how well she did. How did your colleagues infiltrate this place?"

"They briefly stole a key so they could copy it, and entered on a night when nobody, including the janitor, was working there. Our hacker took down the cameras from our base so they could move freely." It was a question he would have never answered. Yet it slipped so easily off of his tongue, and he couldn't stop it. He immediately felt deep pangs of guilt and regret and bit the inside of his lip.

"Wonderful," he stated, jotting down notes. "The truth serum seems to be working great."

Truth serum? Oh no, oh no no no. Fuck, I don't wanna betray everyone!

"Let's continue-"

"No, I don't want to continue, I'd be betraying my friends- well, I think of them as friends, I really don't know how they feel about me. Oh, and I really don't want to let down the guy I like, he doesn't know I'm bi, but I really like him and hope he'll go out with me. Plus, they're all I have, if they kicked me out I'd have nowhere to go, they've been helping me pay my rent." What am I saying?

"Ha! This is much better than I thought it would be. Look on the bright side, Whumpee, you keep this up and maybe I won't have to torture you anymore for answers."

"Honestly, part of me would be okay with that, I hate torture, and I'm so scared of you. But I want to stay loyal to my friends, and I don't want answers to just roll off my tongue, like the way-"

"Whumpee, that's enough," he said sharply, cutting Whumpee off. "Let's get back on track. I want to squeeze as much out of you as I can while this dose lasts. Why, exactly, did your team want to break in?"

Here we go.

#mine #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober #whump #crying #truth serum #bisexual whumpee #restraints tw #choking tw #magical whump #noncon drugging #interrogation #interrogation tw #betrayal #betrayal tw #torture mention

[tartagilicious]

8:11 / your beauty never ever scared me

somebody tear me away from my computer rn i can't stop writing childe this is a disease. also, i think where childe's motivations lie is honestly still a mystery -- we know he likes to fight, that he wants to conquer the world, but for what? the fatui? himself? the people he loves? what of his current self will this cost, and how does he know that he won't regret it once he reaches the point of no return? i think it's an interesting thing to think about :D<3 anyways, this is just my take on a possibility of what goes on in his head, and is obviously not entirely indicative of his canon desires!

narrowed blue eyes stare into the bloodied mirror, contemplating quietly. you aren't quite sure what the harbinger lingers on. if nothing else, perhaps the fact that blood does not come off of glass so easily, leaving phantom outlines still visible to the trained eye.

and childe's eyes are certainly trained. he recognises the blood of his enemies that remains to dirty his reflection, long after it has been wiped away.

though as much as he adores battle, he is no longer sure if "love" is the correct word to describe his affliction. because adrenaline rushes through him each and every time his hands reach out to call his blades forth, but is there truly victory in violence? in the smaller actions that steal someone's life away from them, do they truly count as winning?

the fatui is an organisation built on the terror of those below them; and much like predators, they are revered and known for cruelty. security unlike any other is rewarded when he enacts what he's been taught, when he comes out on top no matter the consequences.

and perhaps the blood that paints his face in the present is a consequence -- a chain reaction stemming from the day he fell into the abyss, and first allowed the fatui to guide him.

childe attempts to calm himself, closing his eyes. yet when he reopens them, the thoughts that lie beneath his eyes only continue to terrify him. exhaustion, fear, confidence, reverence. each emotion melts together in an indiscernible fashion throughout the depths of his unwavering gaze, that of which is the colour of a sea deeper than even the mess he has entrenched himself in.

i do this because it's all i know.

“i know."

another voice appears in his head, familiarly daunting. childe's lip curls as he suppresses the need to respond. it’s only when a damp cloth raises to wipe a smear of blood off of his cheek that he realises he’d spoken aloud.

he turns his gaze to meet yours in the mirror, your lips pursed slightly as you tend to his face. none of the blood is his, you know that. you’ve always known. and yet you help him anyways, taking his chin with your opposite hand and turning his gaze away from the mirror.

how kind you are, he thinks, to disregard the person he could be in favour of the person he is presently.

“it’s not your fault life went this way."

your words are gentle, as if not to startle him.

childe frowns, eyes turning to you beside him as he mumbles, “it is. you don’t need to lie to me."

“…i’m no liar."

his brows knit, lip curling in shame. "i didn't mean it that way."

silently, you handle his chin carefully as you pivot it the other way. childe offers you complete control of his body, swallowing any words he thinks to say with the tight set of his brows.

"you're a weapon of their design, and you have no choice to be what your creators have willed." you murmur it quietly, heart constricting as childe's eyes squeeze shut. "now, would it be right to say that you've chosen such a path freely?"

he doesn't say anything even as the cloth in your hand smears what had been a particularly stubborn clot of blood on his cheek.

"i didn't." he mutters. "but i accepted it. i chose to want this."

you ponder the truthfulness of his words for a moment, and he waits for the rebuttal to come. it always does, and you better him for it. you say all of the things he thinks but is too afraid to speak aloud, viewing his life from an unbiased height.

but you don't argue. instead, you say, "do you still want this?"

"...what would i be without it?" he asks honestly.

your lips flatten slightly as you rub a particular part of his face harder, though momentarily, childe can't tell whether your frustration lies with the stains or with him.

he gets his answer when you let out a quiet sigh, gently brushing aside his bangs. childe shifts his eyes closed compliantly as the cloth carefully roves over the sensitive area. he is unable to see your expression, but in his mind's eye, he paints your mournful expression in a vision of diamonds.

"anything. anything at all."

your quiet voice accompanies the words. he imagines the slight downward curve of your brow lined with a grief that is nearly as deep as his own. though you look back on the same events, your gazes surely find different reason in each happenstance -- and you, he fears you only discover the ugliest. the most pathetic and embarrassing.

but, he supposes you are unique for the reason that he does not mind it. because though such memories would garner pity from anyone else, it is you who chooses to feel wronged alongside him.

so, when the cloth lifts and he is able to meet you again, childe smiles. it is a broken one, stunted by a decades' worth of cold memories, but you return it because you know what lies beyond the confines of it. you've always known, yet you love him anyways.

#yeah yeah i know how to use phrases twice and make it seem meaningful and not just like lazy writing it's- #guys its so simple you literally just #genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact childe x reader

[rabbitreader09]

Oh dear god… not only have i lost the request for this but also i lost the entire thing that i wrote… anyways this was requested by @donutholesarewhole WHO TUMBLR WONT LET ME TAG FOR WHATEVER REASON

Yandere! Vincent x reader x Yandere! Victor Headcanons

They had always liked you… the way you smiled, the way you moved, you lit up a room once you entered it and it was beautiful, both of them became absolutely obsessed with seeing it, so much they didn’t want anyone else to see it…

Vincent always tried isolating you, every time you came to visit hed offer for you to stay just a little longer until it was ‘too late’ and he’d pressure you to stay the night, Victor stalked you, not just when you went outside, no, he monitored everything about you life without your knowledge, that was also how he could get rid of any disturbance quickly and easily.

The two of them worked around you to make sure nobody could get too close, and boy were they good at it. Until at least, you started to catch on.

Their behavior always creeped you out a little, but at some point you just… broke. You told them that you were uncomfortable with how they treated you and that maybe you guys should start talking less, which was alarming new to the both of them, they couldn’t risk you leaving, this world is too dangerous for you to wander without them.

Vincent once again managed to get you to stay for the night, and while he was thinking about how they will fix their problem, Victor was already jumping to actions, he simply got some rope from the storage compartment, went into your room and started tying you up, since he wasn’t being very gentle it woke you up almost immediately, without much hesitation do you began to fight and scream but he didn’t care, he easily overpowered you and tied you down until you could barely move.

Your struggle obviously reached Vincent as well who quickly rushed to see what was happening, though calmed down when he saw what had happened. You expected him to help you but instead he just quietly apologized to you before leaving.

From that day forward, you were now a prisoner in the mansion, they decided to lock you up in Vincent’s room since it was the biggest with some stuff you could kill time with. They also came to the realization how much they loved knowing you were always in one spot close to them with no one there to touch you so neither of them regretted back they did.

But despite everything the both disagreed on a lot of stuff, even though being best friends they had drastically different opinions on how to treat you, especially when it came to any sort of punishment, Vincent saw Victors as ‘too extreme’ while Victor found Vincents ‘too mild’. When it’d be time to punish you for misbehavior, Vincent would suggest locking you in a cage for a day or two while Victor would suggest they’d shower you in boiling water to teach you a lesson, it was very rare they could agree on something.

They’d probably both sleep in Vincent’s bed with you since it was spacious and they weren’t about to take turns cuddling, Vincent enjoyed trapping you against his body while Victor preferred spooning, at somehow they could make both work at the same time.

Even with your now very one-sided relationship they still tried spending time with you, somewhere they missed the times you would chat care freely, the times when you actually liked them, so even if you don’t want to, they’d try and repeat these things, wether it be watching a movie or reading you a book.

If you accept your situation, things might go close to normal and they will treat you good. But if you don’t well… Victor will most likely grow extremely sadistic and threatening, using pain and other methods of intimidation to get you to do what he wants, Vincent will become cold and heartless, no longer being sweet and gentle but commanding and if he has to, violent. So this is really pick your poison.

#dinoverse #vincent the secret of myers #vtsom #x reader #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #vincent edgeworth x reader #albert krueger #vincent x you #vincent x reader #vincent edgeworth #vtsom vincent #yandere vincent #yandere vincent edgeworth #yandere vincent edgeworth x reader #blakeworth #vtsom victor #victor blake #victor blake x reader #yandere victor #yandere victor blake #yandere victor blake x reader #angst #fluff #polyamory

[wind-becomes-lightning]

Congratulations! 🫶🏻 for the 600 followers I’d like to request a story with one of kkps oc pairings- yuuta x hanabi; prompt: “do you think of me when you touch yourself?” Make it as spicy as you wish hehe

hello anon if you still exist after so many months! If you request third party oc's from me you have to accept that I put my own OCs all over it too. So here goes.

my au, blank period. yuuta is @kankuroplease's baby and setsuko belongs to @foolishk and ko is all mine baby.

Rated M, also a lot of alcohol is being consumed

2039 words

Yuuta is persuaded into a night out with some younger friends, but is mostly bored until Hanabi shows up.

Yuuta found himself in what he could only call the worst mixer that anyone, ever, had ever gone to. At least he could not imagine that there was a worse fate than his right now, sitting and staring at other people without having anyone else to chat with, even the jug of beer on the table didn’t help from the boredom he felt. He truly regretted having gone here with all these people that were younger than him and caught up in their own little worlds. 

And it was not like he disliked any of the people present. Separately he had hung out with all of them several times since they had come of age, especially to go out for a drink. On his opposite side sat Udon, who now that he had grown had actually turned into a rather handsome and cute man. He was smart, yes, maybe smarter than anyone else present tonight and Yuuta enjoyed their occasional chats, but he was completely occupied by the woman sitting next to him now.

Ko had her head constantly turned to him and spoke to him, but Yuuta knew that she wasn’t really interested in Udon. On Ko’s left sat Konohamaru, the reason she had agreed to come in the first place. Ko hadn’t been in the village for long, just about half a year and it was clear that she very much wanted Konohamaru, and he probably wanted her too, guessing from the way he acted when she was around, but some sense of fake responsibility to Naruto kept him from just going for it. So they sat side by side, their legs under the table touching and while they were both leaning away from each other, they very much were together.

Yuuta had also chatted a bit with the girls to his own left, but Moegi and Setsuko had just recently officially gotten together and as cute as that was, a new and in love couple always all over each other could become bothersome. Happy relationships and people publicly making love declarations just made him feel nauseous with memories he’d rather forget.

Unfortunately sitting here and feeling as bored as he was meant that he had enough time to wonder and worry about why he was here on a Saturday night with people who were at least four years younger than him, while most of the friends his age, especially Ino, had settled down and were starting a family. Yuuta liked his free life without anything holding him back, at least as long as he didn’t think too hard about it.

He was just about to give up and down his beer to finally leave and go home, to just continue drinking on his own, when the door to the bar opened and he only needed to take one look to recognise who had entered. Hyuuga Hanabi didn’t have much to offer in body height, in fact, she could barely reach Yuuta's chest, but her presence could fill a room easily. She often smiled brightly, spoke her mind freely and spread an aura of hard work and dedication. 

Most important of all: Hanabi and Yuuta were currently in a relationship, or better said, they had a friends with benefits thing going on. They’d been hooking up occasionally, mostly when either of them felt stress and needed an outlet. Hanabi’s cousin Neji was reworking their clan and while she wasn’t directly involved, as a potential clan heir (a role that, according to her, she wasn’t planning on taking anyway), Neji tried to keep her in the loop at all times. Which was nice and supportive, but also incredibly exhausting. 

Hanabi found them with her skilled eyes among the crowd and returned the little wave that Konohamaru gave her. She circled around the other tables and then pressed herself onto a pillow right next to Yuuta, who suddenly felt his mood greatly improved by her presence alone. “Sorry, I’m late”, she said and smiled, because of course she did, “I was held up at home.”

A short round of hello’s and exchanged pleasantries followed and Hanabi got her glass filled with beer, then everyone returned to the way it had been before. Hanabi finished her first beer almost in one go. 

“Slow down,” Yuuta said and pushed his elbow lightly into her side. “You don’t want to get drunk in an hour do you?”

Hanabi had a quick mind, which was one of the things Yuuta liked about her. “I have to catch up, don’t I?” She reached for the jug again to refill her glass. He just shrugged. 

She exchanged some words across the table with Konohamaru and then quickly realised just like Yuuta had previously, that while Konohamaru was physically present and trying to listen, he was mentally somewhere completely different. She turned back to Yuuta. “So they are still not hooking up huh.”

“Not everyone is as open as we are,” he replied and it satisfied him that what he said made her grin. 

The last time they had been together had been about a week ago, but then Yuuta had been on a mission and afterwards Hanabi had been busy with Neji and the clan issues. They had exchanged a short exchange over the new short messaging system Konoha had implemented and decided to meet again next week. And while he had sort of suspected she might have been invited to this mixer tonight too, he was still pleasantly surprised now that she was here.

It was easy to make conversation with Hanabi. It felt like with her he never ran out of things to talk about. When she pulled her shoulders up and made a face while talking about her sister as a newlywed and how exhausting that was. How she could laugh when she talked about missions she was doing and how she really wanted to train her own Genin someday and how attentive she would listen when he would talk. About his parents, about his own work, about his heritage. They were good friends, the occasional hookup didn’t change that.

They downed a few more beers and kept on chatting away, only broken up by Moegi and Setsuko who needed to push past them to go home. Both girls were still grinning ear to ear, hands wrapped up around each other and Yuuta wondered for a moment if they had ever let go of one another for even one second that evening. 

“Must be great being so in love, huh?” Hanabi murmured to herself as the two left. 

“Has its ups and downs.” Yuuta shuddered. Better not to think too much about it.

Hanabi turned to him and narrowed her eyes a little, but she did not ask, she never asked. That was another thing he liked a lot about her, the fact that she wasn’t pushing him to tell her things or do things with her or be her boyfriend in general. Normally, in relationships, Yuuta was the one that needed to hit the breaks with a partner because they wanted it all, but with Hanabi it was all alright the way it was.

Now that their deep conversation had been broken up she let her eyes wander over the rest of the table. “Udon,” she gestured to the boy opposite Yuuta. “When did those two go?” 

Right, Ko and Konohamaru were both no longer there. Yuuta hadn’t seen them leave either.

���Uh, about an hour I think.” Udon seemed a little embarrassed. “I think I should leave too, if you guys don’t mind.” He asked it as if he needed their permission, as if he didn’t exactly know that they didn’t mind being left alone. Yuuta suddenly felt a little bad for him, this evening Udon was possibly the only one going home alone. He made a mental note to take him out alone sometime. It wasn’T like he wasn’t a cute guy anyway.

They didn’t stop Udon leaving, not only because it would have made no difference anyway, because he would have not been persuaded, but also because both of them looked forward to being alone, at least that was how Yuuta felt.

“So, Ko finally won that war..?” Hanabi said. She had just emptied another beer. “I never thought Konoahmaru would give in ever, but tonight she really laid it on heavily on him.”

Yuuta laughed. “If they don’t go home together, he will definitely need some self love tonight after everything she did.” 

“You think he does stuff like that? Think of her while he touches himself?” Hanabi made a face as if the image in her mind felt disgusting.

“Most people think of someone they find attractive. Guys, especially.”

Hanabi’s eyes flickered up to him and the cheeky grin was back on her face. “Do you think of me when you are touching yourself?”

Yuuta didn’t know if it was the amount of alcohol, the heat in the bar or the direct approach but he could feel himself blush, actually blush. This was not something he was used to, the other way around actually. Yuuta was the one who made others blush. He was good at flirting, very good, in fact, he was so good at it that his mother had forbidden him to talk to friends her age out of fear he would hook up with them. He was just a charming guy and he knew how to use that correctly.

That someone made him flustered to the point that it made him speechless even if it was just for a second, was unheard of. He grabbed the glass on the table tightly and then winked back at Hanabi: “Sometimes.” It was his way of taking back control.

“Oh so there are other people you think about?” She put her chin onto the top of her fingers and watched him closely.

Somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was somehow testing him. “I mean, you have to admit there is quite a big number of hot people in this village. It’s like there is something in the water.”

“Ah, you just say that because you haven’t been much in other villages.”

“Possibly,” Yuuta winked.

A moment where none of them talked then Yuuta asked: “And you? Do you think of me?”

The cheeky grin she had been wearing turned into her signature full on smile. “Most of the time.”

For the second time in a matter of minutes Hanabi had taken out the wind of sails in a way that had rarely happened before. He blinked a little unsure how to proceed from this point, but found his stride again almost as quickly as last time. “Well, if you want we could make your fantasy reality. You know where I live.”

She turned the glass under her fingers. “To be honest, that was why I came tonight. I knew you’d be here. Otherwise I might have just gone straight to your apartment.” She winked. “Though I have to admit it was nice drinking a little. I really did have the most stressful day.”

“Well, I think a little relaxing time is in order then,” Yuuta said. He took his last beer and emptied it in one breath. “So shall we go? I swear I’ll make it worth your while.”

They both got up and he offered the half-swaying Hanabi his arm so she could clutch to it. He refrained from telling her that he had told her at the beginning that she shouldn’t overdo it too much, mostly because she was too cute in this tipsy state to make fun of her now.

For that at least.

It was quiet and cold outside, so they huddled closer together for warmth. Hanabi barely reached Yuuta’s shoulders and so he watched from above how her ponytail was swaying while walking. It got him thinking about their conversation at the bar.

“I would love to see it by the way,” Yuuta said, leaning close down to her ear. “How you are touching yourself, I mean.”

She giggled a little and then knocked her head into his lower shoulder: “Shut up.”

He was happy to have the control back. Being left speechless twice in one night was enough.

#fanfiction things #nisi follower celebration #other people's ocs #oc: ko #i guess hanabi and yuuta are canon in my au now but only becaus ei dont know whom to fix yuuta up with #au: ikigai #who knows maybe ill change my mind later LOL #and yes i absolutely did not beta read this im much too lazy

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: born under unlucky stars (one-shot)

Relationships: Jīn Zǐxuān & Mò Xuányǔ, Jīn Zǐxuān & Qín Sù, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín & Wēn Qíng

Characters: Jīn Zǐxuān, Mò Xuányǔ, Qín Sù, Wēn Qíng, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín

Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Ghosts, Souls, Implied/Referenced Sex, Brotherly Love, Anger, Spells & Enchantments, Mò Xuányǔ Deserves Better, Revenge

Summary: Mo Xuanyu comes to awareness with surprise, then anger. He let go after summoning Wei Wuxian, freely offering his body in exchange for revenge and the oblivion of non-existence. He had expected nothingness from the Soul Sacrifice Summons spell, and he has been denied even that. 

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

---------

Mo Xuanyu comes to awareness with surprise, then anger. 

He let go after summoning Wei Wuxian, freely offering his body in exchange for revenge and the oblivion of non-existence. He had expected nothingness from the Soul Sacrifice Summons spell, and he has been denied even that. 

And so he meets awareness bitterly, wondering where he went wrong. 

Didi.

The voice gives him pause, slices through the bitterness and forces him into more awareness, of the warm golden glow around him, of a presence he doesn’t recognize. 

He isn’t in a body, he realizes. Just a spirit, or soul, and his is tattered, though he can tell the presence is keeping him together.

Is trying to heal him. 

Why? he wants to sob. Why care about him now when he just wants an end?

I am sorry I was not there to protect you, didi.

The apology stills him. To be called didi… not even Jin Guangyao did so before he revealed the demon behind the dimples. 

He can’t speak, has no voice to ask.

Think it at me, didi, the voice tells him gently, far more gently than he has ever remembered being treated. 

Jin Zixuan…? he thinks, incredulous. 

He never met this brother, with him having been murdered before his cretin of a father bothered to bring him to Jinlin Tai, and so he knows little about him. Why would he care?

I was blind in life, didi, and have had much time to regret.

Mo Xuanyu is startled at the admission—he heard his late half-brother was arrogant, but this is not arrogance. 

I could do nothing to help you, before. I have regrets, but I am not resentful. A-Li would be happy you brought her didi back from death—his soul was shattered, was returning to the earth, but he exists again. 

A-Li can only be Jiang Yanli, and he wonders idly if he is to meet her as well.

No. She has moved on, taken Meng Po’s soup and crossed Naihe Bridge into her next life. She was promised she would be near her brothers. 

Forgetting is a kind of oblivion, Mo Xuanyu realizes, abruptly no longer bitter at his continued existence. Memories, especially his memories, are a burden he wishes to be without. Meng Po’s soup can give him what he wants. 

But how does he still exist, when the price of the spell was his soul?

You saved my soul? he asks.

Yes, so you might have a better next life. 

The brother he has never known would do this for him? He can tell Jin Zixuan has endured pain to help him, and can only wonder if he is worthy. He doesn’t feel worthy, and wonders if Meng Po’s soup will make him forget that, too. 

Would you like to see what your sacrifice has brought first?

His brother can feel his agreement without speech, and suddenly he can see the world, or a faint version of it, and finds himself watching his body move at the behest of the Yiling Patriarch, how it smiles widely and moves easily despite the malnourishment and abuse he’d suffered. 

He finds himself enjoying the spectacle Wei Wuxian makes, and can feel Jin Zixuan’s amusement.

He was always like this.

The Mo family comes to a swift end without Wei Wuxian’s intervention, but is credited to him because he created the lure flags, and so the slices on his body heal with that finished. Mo Xuanyu has his revenge, just like that. 

Wei Wuxian flees before he can be caught, only to be caught protecting junior disciples mere days later. 

They follow him on his journey with Hanguang-Jun, who buys him anything he might want as they travel, dotes on him, and Mo Xuanyu realizes not only is the man in love with the Yiling Patriarch, and had grieved him, but Wei Wuxian is oblivious. Embarrassingly so. 

He was always like that, too.

It’s hard to watch them dance around each other with increasingly fraught sexual tension as they gather the pieces of Nie Mingjue’s body and uncover Jin Guanyao’s plots. 

He grieves to learn the truth of A-Song’s death, to see his lovely half-sister die by her own hand, though Jin Zixuan gathers her, too, to him, keeps her from being absorbed into the dagger she used as the instrument of her own demise—and in doing so breaks the enchantment, leading souls to spill from it, many moving on immediately. 

Only Qin Su and another, Wen Qing, stay to observe with them. 

Mo Xuanyu recognizes her name from the Yiling Patriarch’s notes, in the days Jin Guangyao had him trying to recreate the seal—Xue Yang must have managed it after his banishment, from the events of Yi City. The notes had been silly things like “Qing-jie still won’t let me try to plant potatoes” and “Qing-jie made me sleep with needles again, so mean” on the edges of papers with theory on resentful energy.  

He wonders what, if anything, he has to say to her, but it’s unnecessary with Jin Zixuan eager to explain, and he stays silent. 

A-Song crossed Naihe Bridge, meimei, he hears Jin Zixuan tell their sister. He did not suffer.

Her grief and gratitude are almost overpowering, and when she notices him, the grief deepens.

That wasn’t you? 

She sounds distraught. 

Sacrifice summons, he tells her. That is Wei Wuxian now. 

He’ll get justice for you all, Wen Qing comments, her ‘voice’ filled with a medley of heavy emotion. Hopefully not at the cost of his own life again, but he will pay his debt to you. 

He already has, Mo Xuanyu tells her, thinking of the Mos—anything that happens to Jin Guangyao is just adding flowers to the brocade. 

He won’t think so. 

She sounds sad, and they slowly piece together why as they continue watching events unfold, and come to learn just how much Wei Wuxian sacrificed in his life. 

Qin Su stays long enough to watch her story be told to the sect leaders gathered at Lotus Pier, to witness the absolutely mortifying confession at the temple (seriously, that’s his body saying those words!), and to watch Zewu-Jun’s sword pierce Jin Guangyao’s rotten heart, lets him see her before he is sealed with the resentful soul of Nie Mingjue, smiling victoriously. 

Then she lets go, ready for Meng Po’s soup with the assurance her late husband will suffer the consequences of his ills. 

Wen Ning, they learn, can see them since he too is dead, if tethered to his body, and after he communes with Wen Qing, she too lets go, leaving only the two brothers to watch the last remaining Wens set off on their journey. 

Jin Zixuan’s embarrassment is palpable as Hanguang-Jun pulls his body—Wei Wuxian’s now—into the bushes. 

I don’t need to see this, he says. 

But Mo Xuanyu has no such embarrassment, simply watching in satisfaction as his now-much-healthier body is ravished. It may no longer belong to him, but he can enjoy the loss of its virginity, especially to the great Hanguang-Jun and his rather impressive cock. 

He feels absurdly grateful that he can witness their happy ending, to still exist thanks to his brother. 

I hope someone introduces them to oil, he comments, and can’t help being amused by his brother’s mortification. 

They act as ghostly witnesses to their elopement, and he can sense Jin Zixuan’s satisfaction. 

A-Li would have wanted to plan their wedding, he says nostalgically. But at least he can have happiness now. 

You don’t blame him?

No. 

A flash of memory not his own comes to him, of the Yiling Patriarch’s original face twisting in horror and terror as the world dims. 

I was arrogant and he was afraid and cornered. The fault was not his. I did not listen.

Mo Xuanyu isn’t sure he would be able to be so gracious.

Things become clearer with death, or at least they did for me.

He realizes abruptly that his spirit is no longer broken, that Jin Zixuan has released him. He can feel the pull of Naihe Bridge, and he thinks he would have enjoyed knowing his brother in life. 

Do you think we’ll be brothers again? Properly next time, gege?

Warmth suffuses him, and he recognizes it as Jin Zixuan’s joy at the idea. 

I hope so, didi.

The warmth embraces him as he lets go, not saying goodbye in faith they’ll meet again. 

As he drinks the soup, his memories sloughing away, a voice tells him, You will.

And then the world suffuses with light. 

-----------

The title is taken from Bai Juyi’s poem, “Li Bai’s Tomb,” specifically a translation from Tumblr’s hunxi-guilai. 

Adding flowers to the brocade (锦上添花) is an idiom along the lines of icing on the cake or gilding the lily—to decorate something already perfect.

This story popped into my head and demanded to be written. My cultural beta didn’t have time to look at it, so I hope nothing is problematic. I figure that not all spirits who delay their reincarnation are resentful, though they can become such over time. After all, not all spirits who respond to Inquiry have resentment, just a piece of unfinished business.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #mo xuanyu #jin zixuan #wen qing #qin su #wei wuxian #lan zhan #wei ying #lan wangji #meng yao #jin guangyao #wen ning #wen qionglin #my fanfiction

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I love Jimin's cover picture for the photobook too. Him dancing with open wings. It's about freedom. That's what he wants. To be free, to be himself without needing to conform to social and cultural norms. Wings mean freedom, escape and aspirations for greater accomplishments.

The old century outfit and setting, him stuck in a room - his inner self seems to feel stuck/locked, needing to conform with outdated/archaic social and cultural thinking/practises. All the mannequins there, same type, all made the same, they have no unique personality, now broken and damaged and useless. He doesnt want to be like them, not live in a box others created for him. Pressures to abide, weighing him down. Some make themselves prisoners of societies' paradigms/beliefs/systems. As an idol it's even more difficult.

He has Artemis tattoed on him in those pictures. Don't know his thoughts behind that. But Artemis (among other things) again is about freedom. Huntress, dancer, goddess of wilderness. She was free of entanglements, not confined by any bonds, untrammelled, wild. Same way, he doesn't want his self to be restricted, bond, he wouldn't want to sacrifice his inner light and live a mannequin like life. He wants the freedom to live and love freely, be wild, follow his dreams, have no regrets etc. His inner self identifies with Artemis in that sense.

I know a some people will immediately say, oh he wants to be openly gay. But it isn't just about that, (I think). He and other members too, maybe, have had to make lots of sacrifices, put their personal aspirations aside for the group, have had to always play the ot7 part, always present themselves to fans a certain way, fulfilling obligations cause the label needed to make money etc. They can now be free to express/pursue their true interests/aspirations. I remember a clip where Jimin suggested he'll do a solo dance piece and others said No (some one among them said "oh you're trying to get more screen time"). Ot7 agenda must have been restricting. Chapter 2 must be more freeing.

I'll stop. That's what I think, but I could be so so wrong. Sorry for the long message. I didn't realize it was long.

Oh anon, I really love and appreciate this interpretation and how you did a breakdown of the symbols and metaphors. It just shows not only the concept's complexity, but it speaks to Jimin's as well. I think this way of looking at it sits perfectly well with other interpretations, more focused on gender and sexual identity. They can easily coexist, as restrictions and freedom are more universal themes that do seem to permeate whatever ideas Jimin wanted to share with the world.

Being an idol is restrictive in itself and it shows in various aspects of someone's public/private life. From being assigned a persona, always stored in certain boxes, always perfect and without any mistakes, having to look a certain way and maintain that, on top of the actual work of doing music and performances. It's bound to become a weight, as much as it's a rewarding path. It comes with (dis)advantages. From what I can see, Jimin always struggled with some aspects of it (still does) and has tried to reinvent himself, or show a version of it that is as close to that of the self that he's comfortable sharing with the world, whatever that entails. The photo-folio may as well be about that.

P.S. Don't apologize for writing a long message. The content of it is always more important than the length.

#bmt asks #jimin #jimin photofolio #jimin personal journey

[rmorde]

Thinking about it... Gojo has a very deep sense of empathy, doesn't he? Even before his character development, he easily empathized with Riko. He is a fucking softie.

I both admire and feel annoyed that he extended such empathy to Sukuna too. But I think that is just how his character is. Subtly too kind for anyone's good. He did allow Geto to run loose even when Gojo knew he is going to kill more people.

There is a really nice detail I now understand with the official translation released too.

Yorozu wanted to connect with Sukuna by having him validate her strength. Her love is "You are not alone because I am here. Only I can understand you. Look at me!"

Gojo also wanted to connect with Sukuna by NOT demanding a validation. What he did was give him a show that is essentially "Hey, you're lonely but we are alike in that regard. Let me show you. See?"

Both characters are trying to teach Sukuna about "love" that can probably cure the loneliness from the solitude of being powerful but they have very different approaches. It seemed like Sukuna appreciated Gojo's more tho because he likes a show. He demanded one from Megumi and also Mahoraga while Gojo gave it freely. Hence Sukuna's comment of "You were magnificent."

The nice detail I'm referring tho is Yorozu was in Tsumiki's body. Sukuna is in Megumi's. It's a twisted pseudo-family love fest of Gojo and "Tsumiki" trying to shower "Megumi" love. It's horrific in its irony.

Also, yeah. Gojo was definitely downplaying himself during his talk at the "afterlife airport". Sukuna said so himself. He needed Mahoraga (and so the 10S itself) to find a way to beat Gojo.

Sukuna knew defeating Gojo is not easy once he realized that the Six Eyes user was incredibly adaptable on the fly. People forget that it took a while before Sukuna even brought out 10S into the fight. He tried to beat Gojo on his own first - find a way around Infinity without any help. When he discovered that Gojo is adapting too fast for him to study, he brought out Mahoraga so he can have a model to use.

Probably that's why the death was "off-screen". As soon as Sukuna figured out how to beat Gojo, he immediately did it because he only has one shot. If Gojo realizes what he was up to, he may adapt again (like Mahoraga heh). So as soon as he found an opportunity, he hit hard and hit fast (like Toji & Kenjaku).

Basically, Sukuna was giving his all too in the fight by finding a way to end it quickly. Gojo just didn't see it that way because what he wanted was for Sukuna to show off all his skills too like he did.

For Heian Sorcerers, being able to kill powerful opponents is the goal. That's Sukuna's mentality. For Modern Sorcerers, it's the display of one's power/CTs itself which is Gojo's mindset (hence their emphasis on having a DE). Both characters have slightly different definitions of "Strength".

Thank goodness the official translation corrected me on this one. Gojo never said that Sukuna is stronger than him. He just said he is crazy strong. So, it's not unlike how he praised his students like Yuta, Hakari, and Yuji. Therefore, I could safely say that both Gojo and Sukuna (with his "I shall not forget you") simply respect each other.

I think the flowers Gojo was talking about refers to his students. That's really depressing. He was raising them to be his allies but he never expected them to understand him. Gojo loves them but thought it to be one-sided. Sigh~

I swear this series' theme might be "Everyone loves each other but they are just shit at communicating it. Tragedy ensues."

I don't like one part tho which Nanami said: "A Curse can save people too like Sorcery." The North and South thing isn't helping. Gojo admitting he has no regrets but had no satisfaction either makes me nervous.

Gojo coming back is not yet an impossibility, I believe. But. BUT. Those three details may hint that Gojo would come back wrong. Shoko and the others should quickly retrieve Gojo's body.

#jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk spoilers #finally read the official translations #certain stuff got clarified at least

[daughter-of-melpomene]

Hi!!! You're on my OC Creator Bingo card and I love the sound of your Bill and Ted OC Cher Johnston and I have 5 questions to ask!!! 1. How did you come up with her? 2. How did she first meet Bill & Ted? 3. How did the three of them become friends? 4. What's her favourite part of the time travel adventure? 5. How does she wind up involved with the events of the second movie (if this is too spoiler-y my alternate question is what do the history books say about her in the far future)?

(ASKS ABOUT MY UNDERRATED BABY CHER?!! Thank you so much for this, I love you <3 <3!! Answers are under the cut!!)

1. How did you come up with her?

See, the thing about me is that I can’t watch anything new without at least thinking of a little plot bunny for it (😅). I also adore young Keanu Reeves, so the idea of a love interest for Ted began to take serious shape in my head about halfway through my watch of the first movie. The idea of Holland Roden for her faceclaim came to me pretty easily, as she just seemed to fit with the idea of Cher that I had in my head. And as for her name, I rewatched the second Mamma Mia! the day after watching the Bill & Ted movies for the first time, and inspiration struck! (Although technically Cher goes by her nickname and her actual name is Cheryl, but, you know.)

2. How did she first meet Bill & Ted?

Cher has known Bill and Ted all the years she’s been going to school. The three of them first interacted in second grade, when their teacher asked Bill to solve a simple math equation and he got the answer completely wrong, prompting some students to laugh at him. In one of her very rare moments of bravery, Cher scolded her classmates for being so mean and told the teacher the answer to the question herself. Her hands were shaking for a solid ten minutes after she did it, but she didn’t regret it one bit; no matter how scared speaking up made her, she wasn’t going to stand by and watch someone be laughed at.

3. How did the three of them become friends?

Later the same day Cher defended Bill, at recess, the two boys approached Cher where she was sitting by herself and asked her if she wanted to play with them. Cher was very nervous and awkward at first, not used to getting to play with other kids, but the boys’ cheerful and goofy natures made it very hard for her to be shy, and eventually she found herself starting to laugh and play freely with them. The three of them were pretty much joined at the hip after that, and have been ever since.

4. What's her favourite part of the time travel adventure?

After Cher gets over the shock of the whole “time-travel-is-real-and-we’re-famous-in-the-future” thing and actually starts enjoying herself, her favorite part of everything is getting to meet Joan of Arc. Cher has been fascinated by Joan’s story ever since she was younger, admiring the other young woman’s fierce determination and bravery and wishing she could be as bold as this warrior, so getting to meet a figure she’s admired for so long is an amazing experience for her (even if they can’t understand each other, since Cher only knows a few basic phrases in French and those don’t match up with how the language was spoken in Joan’s time anyway).

5. How does she wind up involved with the events of the second movie (if this is too spoiler-y my alternate question is what do the history books say about her in the far future)?

I haven’t actually figured how exactly how Cher’s storyline in the second movie goes, so I’ll answer the alternate question (😅). In the future, as she is now, Cher acts as Wyld Stallyns’ manager, marrying Ted shortly after the band’s third world tour. The pair never have any kids, but after Bill and Ted officially retire from rocking out, Cher becomes a politician, being on the frontlines when humanity first establishes contact with beings from space and widely regarded, after her passing, as one of the people most to thank for bringing peace and harmony to the whole galaxy.

#asks about my ocs #oc: cher johnston #ocb2023 #oc creator bingo 2023