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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

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the lakes (5) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcoholism bc haymitch is there, brief drinking, allusions to death and violence, rebellion planning, allusions of trafficking/sexual trauma, wanting children, mentions of birth control and class divide, terms of endearment, mental illness, manipulation of someone's feelings, self-hatred, mentions of nausea and allusions to puking, reader being utterly enamored by Finnick, unedited, no use of Y/N

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Harsh wind made your body shake and Finnick immediately wrapped his arms around you. How he always felt like a furnace was something you'd accepted you'd never have the answer to and you gratefully relaxed into him.

“Oh look, I just happened to run into you two on the roof, a happy couple just relaxing while they still can." Haymitch's voice pierced the air billowing around you.

“What a coincidence.” Finnick took a step closer to where Haymitch was approaching.

"Gives us a perfect chance to talk about allies though.” Your voice was loud enough that if anyone was listening they would be sure to hear your completely pure intentions with a mentor right before everyone's voices conveniently took the octave and pitch down.

“After this there's not opting out, so I need to know that you're 100% on board. You could be killed if this gets found out." Haymitch fiddled with his flask.

“We're already going to be killed, at least this way there's a chance we can stay together and end all of this." He stood close enough now that your soft voice could only be heard within the earshot. Finnick squeezed your hand softly.

Haymitch nodded, “Beetee is in on it too, so is Wiress, but who knows how much of a help she'll be. Plutarch can give us insight into small things before the Games start, but the main point will be finding away for enough chaos to happen that we can get Katniss out of there.”

“So our job is to get her to trust us, protect her and Peeta so she sticks to the plan that will get her out." Subconsciously Finnick began tapping his fingers on your waist and you rubbed your thumb in circles across his hand to try and soothe whatever it was his mind was running on about.

“Yes and we might need to find a way to force that because you weren't doing a great job on that, darling. I can't blame you though, she can be quite difficult.” Haymitch took a swig from the flask, you could only imagine how burning cold the metal must have been. Then he was pointing at you, "The princess here might actually have more luck since in an ever so contradictory way she's less gaudy.” Finnick scoffed. "She'll just have to get over preconceived notions first which isn't usually easy. Going over tributes though the problem would be you as a package deal, so we might have to find a way to force her to ally with everyone anyways.”

Slowly, Finnick nodded, “We should tell Johanna, she'll definitely be determined even if she doesn't get Katniss’ trust right away."

Haymitch laughed slightly, “Oh I think she's already left quite the impression." You could only imagine what Johanna had done and you smiled, her blunt attitude had immediately drawn you to her and it helped that her strategy was slightly similar to yours as far as the tears went.

“You go, it'll look like you're trying to figure out alliances and not be as suspicious, if they are watching." You kissed Finnick's cheek and reluctantly pushed away from his comforting arms.

"Okay, I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too bad.” He began stepping away so slowly as if he wanted to stay too, which you couldn't imagine why you had to have made his internal heater freeze with every touch.

“Oh I already do." He smirked and you walked over the cement bench, patting on it as Haymitch sat down by you. He held his arm out, offering the flask he was holding. You thought about it for a second, but accepted the offer. Earlier assumptions were correct, the metal was so cold it burned the lips right before the alcohol did. “What is that?" You scrunched your nose, handing it back to him.

Haymitch chuckled, shaking his head. “One of their wild, Capitol creations." He shrugged slightly, the idea of carrying a drink around that you couldn't even name just to numb the pain made your head ache for the victor. “So you tied the knot away from all the pomp and pageantry?"

"They can't have all of me.” Even if they have most of me, went unsaid into the crisp night air. Your body, your tears, what you could give, the raw, violent parts of you forever memorialized for eternity. Now parts of the private ceremony would be exploited, but the moment could never, only the parts you chose to reveal. It was yours.

“Good for you." He took another drink. “They can only take so much from us, they have to know this was bound to happen." You hummed a yes and reached your hand out which he filled with the cold flask, you took another drink that stung your throat before returning it.

“I don't know how people can have kids when the world is like this." You muttered, looking out at the city below. So badly you wanted a family, Finnick would be a great father, but it seemed impossible to fathom when at any second, for years on end they could be ripped away to be publicly executed for entertainment. If they even managed to survive, horrors lay beyond that, you would never wish for your children to live in a world where they went through what you did.

He shook his head, “Desperation, extra hands, not everyone has fancy Capitol provided ways to prevent pregnancy, Princess."

"Yeah.” You were all too familiar with that. Rich men rarely wanted the possibility of a kid running around with a second-class being even if she was a victor and you took every precaution possible as the fear ate you up inside. They could steal away your body, your intimacy, how you felt with yourself, but if you did escape all of this the only kids you would be having would be yours and Finnick. You wouldn't let them own you in that aspect too. “She's lucky she and Peeta came off as such a strong case of star crossed lovers, it's saved her in and out of the arena. Saved both of them.” Blankly staring at the stars, too beautiful to shine on such a cruel world.

“That she is. My so-called defiance lost me everything, everyone and she managed to be so popular that they couldn't do that. It's why we stand a chance, princess.”

You stood up, "I'd wish you a goodnight, but that rarely happens.” You smiled, sadness tainting your eyes.

Haymitch shook the flask, "If it works right, I won't remember a thing.” He said it so sardonically it weighed down your very being. This is what the Capitol did to its child winners, fractured them into being blackout drunk to dodge the nights full of horror.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You sat on the hallway floor, it's carpet itching your skin as you sat there, head on Conway’s shoulder.

“The outfits were so ridiculous, dressing us like prize pigs." He seethed, “Not you I mean though, you didn't look like a pig, the blue looked nice on you-" Conway started rambling to make up for his initial words and you pressed a finger to his soft lips.

"I know what you mean.” You smiled, so softly it looked enamored with his stumbling. It was cute, but not like your Finnick's sureness in all he said. No, not your Finnick, not anymore he was just Finnick, the mentor, the guy from the past. Oh, how you craved his touch, the smell of his salty skin, the sound of his honey like voice. You scolded yourself, now wasn't the time, it couldn't be. You couldn't risk Conway being able to tell if you were thinking about the other man, as if he could somehow read your mind, nevertheless it was too risky.

“Thank you for always understanding me, you've always been so sweet since we were children, it's what made me want to be your friend in the first place and then-" He paused, then your lover is what he was holding back. You knew this, his sister had told you once back when you were with Finnick, how jealousy was eating Conway’s sweet soul alive. “Then made my family love you too."

It was like an arrow in your heart, you weren't sweet, it was more harrowing that he thought so. Your brain encouraged you to persist even though the echoes muttered back how much you should loathe yourself. “No, you're the sweet one. Always covering for me." You shook your head, keeping the smile glued on your face. His hand was suddenly on your chin, trying to guide you in. His fingers were slightly calloused but there were no sparks, like when Finnick even brushed his atoms into the same vicinity as yours. You leaned in slightly, eyes searching him as if you wanted to know if he really wanted this, of course you knew the answer though. His lips pressed themselves to yours, he tasted just as he sounded, like strawberries and you did like strawberries of course, but not as much as a raw honeycomb.

Just as quickly he pulled away, “I'm sorry." Conway’s voice spilled out, “I don't know what I was thinking, I know you still have him and all, I just I don't know." He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands, combing them through his hair anxiously.

“He's a jerk." He was, but in the best and worst way. “I don't know what I saw in him." You shook your head, sadly staring at the carpet. Urging the tears to present themselves to help cover your lies because you knew exactly what you still saw in him, his humor, his protection, the warmth, and the absolute love and care he exuded with each look, each graze of his fingertips. “Especially when-" You acted like you were getting choked up on your confession, you disgusted yourself.

Conway’s fingertips were tilting your head back up to him once again, “Really?" His eyes were eager, so innocent. You had to stop your resilience from breaking, from halting the whole operation. “Do you really mean that because I have for so long and please be honest?"

You were nauseous. Trying not to start gagging on nothing as you nodded. "Of course I do, I just didn't see what's been right in front of me.” He kissed you again and it was overwhelming your senses. Not in the way Finnick did which made you buzz, in a way that made you want to run. When he finally pulled away you forced yourself to let out a sly smile as you began standing. "I'll see you in the morning, we should sleep before all the training tomorrow, making impressions with the other tributes.”

His smile was shy and his eyes were basically begging you to stay with him another night, to hold you. It would certainly help your plan, but you couldn't. It was already too much and you needed senses knocked back into you before you broke. "Goodnight, sleep well." Conway whispered, slowly letting his fingers part from yours as he turned down the hallway. You'd been just outside of your room so you walked to it and opened it right before closing it to make it sound like you'd gone in before making a beeline in the opposite direction for Finnick's. Vainly trying to hold back the dry heaving.

Ever so softly your fists knocked on the door and almost instantly it was open, like he was waiting, like he knew you would be coming. Before another second could pass you'd thrown yourself into the protection of his arms and were weeping.

“I'm a terrible person." You choked out as he carefully shut the door with his foot, wrapping his arms around you even tighter like a blanket.

“No you're not an angel, it's survival of the fittest." He kissed the top of your forehead burying himself in it.

"Oh God, I'm gonna be sick.” He instantly led you to the bathroom where you were in fact. He didn't leave you though, he pulled out some medicine to soothe your stomach and head. Handing you a glass of water as he soothingly had his hand on the top of your head, stroking your hair. Once you've finished he was brushing your teeth for you.

It should be pathetic to have someone doing that for you, but not when it was him just trying to keep you secure. “Gotta open wider, angel." He was diligent and precise before helping pull you up from the edge of the tub to the sink. “Okay now spit. Let's get you into bed, sweet girl."

“Thank you, I'm sorry." You muttered out, voice raspy.

“Don't ever be." His warm hands tilted your chin up in a way that melted you into his touch like sugar in tea. “Look at me. You're doing what it takes to survive, which you deserve to do, I'm just doing what you deserve." Your Finnick could make you fall into tears every time, healing the patches of the broken heart you had from the way you were using Conway. “Let's get you to bed." He began to walk out of the bathroom and you softly put your hand on the one trailing away.

"Finnick.” Your voice was tender but the air was so stagnant it felt booming to your ears. He turned to look at you, worry evident. "Can I stay? Please?” Finnick smiled so sympathetically it made your head feel better, like it would float away instead.

"Of course, my love, you can always stay with me, I'll always stay with you.” As you crawled into the sheets that he'd of course emanated his soothing heat onto you knew it was true. Just as you knew you'd always stay with him.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading! literally y'all's comments make my heart so happy and my passion for continuing to write this skyrockets, you are all so incredibly kind and supportive 💕 as always if you enjoyed feedback, likes, reblogs, comments are all so appreciated and my asks are open bc I think about this series all the time. I love you guys and thank you again sm 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #thg #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fanfic #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader

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italoniponic · 2 years

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can you write something for malleus and/or silver x reader? (separately)

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: Hi, anon!

Okay, so I made these bc I actually reused an old idea I had for Silver and made a version for Malleus as well. This is not a scolding but next time, I would prefer a more detailed idea. It was just that I really wanted to write something for Silver and I had a plot in hand. Don’t be afraid of suggesting something you want (as long as it is within the rules), it’s more likely for me to write this way. Then again, this isn’t a scolding, I’m just making that clear

But, as for the idea: I thought about how Silver wouldn’t even think about saying “I love you” suddenly, even inside the school to the reader and just as he walks away, the reader is a completely flustered mess. And Malleus proved himself to also be great for this lol I hope this is good enough and you like it, anon~

Thanks for the request <3 |

Silver, Malleus Draconia x gender neutral reader / headcanons / fluff / true love conquers all / use of “you” pronouns

Cherry’s Harvesting event 🍒 Masterlist

It Just Slipped

Silver prepared himself for many things in his life, both to be a good guard for Malleus and to be an exemplary son for Lilia. Everything he did always involved people he loved and had a unique bond, like a family. But he wasn't fully prepared to be a boyfriend — a normal one, at least;

You have become a close person to Silver. One more that he cherishes and wants to protect, perhaps even more than others. That's what it means to love someone, isn't it? Love and protect. Silver's heart gets lighter every time he meets you. Whenever he can, he tries to at least greet you and wave;

It's his simple way of saying that he cares and acknowledges your presence anywhere. Silver is caring, grateful for all the good things you do for him and the love you give. And “grateful” is in the sense that he really thanks you when you help him. This might be for be raised by Lilia and because he saw how Sebek's siblings thanked their parents, so Silver thanks and always says that he loves you;

Which you find very cute, even more so for the way he mutters these words while waking up after you found him sleeping around. Or sometimes when you give him a snack he was in need of after a hard day of training or when you fix his hair. Little things like that. You just hadn't imagined it was for every little thing…;

“Good luck in potions class. Yeah, I'll try not to sleep too,” Silver nodded when you joked about it. “See you later, I love you.” And so, Silver made his way down the hall and left you standing there with your friends and a lot of other students looking at you. Did Silver’s voice sound too loud or was it just an impression? Or has no one ever seen a couple say goodbye before?;

Your face was hot the entire class and you avoided Ace, Deuce and Grim’s gazes the entire time. Silver’s sweet, caring words, spoken with ease and comfort, echoed in your mind as if to comfort you and remind you that you would soon meet again. Because you just wanted to hide behind him at that moment;

Silver didn’t realize any time what he had caused and you decided not to say anything. It wasn't like it was something bad or that you didn't like. Sure, your friends’ teasing comes and goes but that was no reason for you to ask Silver not to do that anymore. Even because this kind of thing is a habit and made you feel included in his life, as if you were always there;

And the next day, you witnessed something very similar happen between Silver and Lilia. He almost said “okay, love you, dad” when Lilia returned the book he forgot but you stepped in between to interrupt the situation. “Silver! Lilia! What a coincidence to find you here!,” your loud voice drowned out your boyfriend's words of affection to his father;

This time, Silver realized what you did and his face was brushed by a pale, gentle pink — which squeezed your heart for being such a beautiful sight. Silver wondered if he should control himself more before he accidentally tell someone that Lilia is his “old man” but you said it was okay for him to say goodbye to you like that. Your own face would envy many red roses;

Well, given your official permission, Silver fulfills it with more vigor and attention than before. Sometimes you can even reply back, but other times you faint at how fast your heart beats every time Silver says he loves you. At least, Jack has gone on to pull Ace and Grim's ear every time they laugh at you;

It isn’t even the most elaborate “I love you” that makes you lose your posture, but the simple and full of importance tone that Silver's voice puts in such small words. Is your boyfriend an angel? You don't know. At least, Silver sleeps like one anywhere. But every time you carry him to a more comfortable place, he always thanks you with a beautiful smile.

It's no surprise to you that Malleus understands what dating is just as much as he understands humans. More literally than you might think, all he knows about both things were from some books in his castle and others that Lilia brought — or other people's stories he heard. But you already knew that;

However, one beautiful thing Malleus has seen humans do a few times between family members and couples — and this Lilia ended up reproducing at home with Silver — is how people say goodbye with an “I love you” at the end. Such a simple and banal gesture but full of meaning. Something he always wanted to do but never had the courage to;

Now, if the two of you were together, Malleus should absolutely do it. It's something he feels is necessary. Not because it's mandatory, but because it's a gentle affirmation of his feelings and how much he cares about you. He just waited for the right moment to do it for the first time;

The lunch time had come and you bought a small jar of ice cream especially for Malleus. You walked up to the Diasomnia table and handed it to him, even though you weren't going to have lunch with them that day — Malleus insisted that you have a few moments with your friends, as part of the human experience. Upon receiving such a delicate gift, Malleus stood up and thanked;

“Have a nice lunch with your companions! See you later. I love you,” Malleus nodded and sat back down, concentrating on opening that little jar of ice cream you so carinly bought for him. He just didn't notice how his farewell reverberated through the cafeteria and you froze for a moment where you were, before slowly walking out of there, dazed;

No one dared comment on anything, not even the Savanaclaw bullies who were always complaining about anything anyone from Diasomnia — Malleus, of course, included — did. But everyone followed you with their gaze until you reached the first year’s table, where silence died with Grim saying: “What does he mean with ‘your companions’? I'm the real boss here!”;

You kept thinking about that for a long time and Malleus kept saying goodbye to you while adding how he loved you. Sometimes he even measured how much he loved you and other times, it was an abbreviated “...love you!” that Lilia taught him to use. It was amazing how Malleus managed to be cute beyond your expectations;

And really, Malleus didn't seem to care or be aware of what he provoked — what was about saying “I love you” to someone you love? When you passed by, some of the students looked at you with admiration, as if you were a dragon slayer and had tamed one. Others felt flustered and a bit envy;

A little more complicated than that was hearing Sebek saying he wanted to hear this farewell from Malleus at all costs and after that, having to hear Malleus himself consider an appropriate time to begin treating his three longtime friends — his special family — in a caring manner. In the end, you brought everyone together in a big family therapy and you stipulated that this would be only done in the Valley of Thorns;

Lilia made a subtle comment about this meaning you would live with them in the future and you smiled slightly, trying to disguise your blush as you were waking Silver up who was sleeping peacefully on the couch’s arm — he had agreed in advance to whatever solution you all came up with. Malleus said nothing, but he was also smiling, daydreaming;

There came a time when you went on to replicate Malleus's goodbyes with the same “I love you” from him and each time seemed to cause a light summer rain over the school fields. A drizzle so gentle that it produced the most beautiful of dews. As if Malleus needed more reasons to love you and be happy with your company.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #silver #twst silver #silver vanrouge #silver x reader #twst silver x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst fluff #cherry's writing #cherry's harvesting

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diviner-alva · 2 years

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More notes!!!

This is a small one but very important.

Look at these amazing "coincidences":

All three clans have trials to make rank and become soldiers, right? I'm not very sure bcs I think there are training missions (the one Eagle Squad does in the quest 'A tribe apart', Jaxx says "A final mission before a young squad goes into active duty") tho it is not mentioned what is the desert clan's trial to make rank. With the lowland clan it appears to be Fenrise as Gattak said "Here we train for the trials that make us full-fledged soldiers. And here we are marked as such when the trials are won", but The Valley of the Fallen seems to be one of those places they perform said trials, this is mentioned by Ivvira and Kenalla, "Survive ten days and nights. Take down any machine that stands in the way".

But look at this, Aloy literally completed the march of the ten, she logically could make rank with the Sky Clan. Not being enough, she is also technically a Marshal, she defeated a Slitherfang in the arena DURING the Kulrut. Kotallo even mentions once when he's briefing her with 'In the fog' quest: "With the marshals spread thin, there is no one to investigate. Would you consider it?"

So follow my line of thought here...

Aloy:

orphan, has no mother nor father

lives as an outcast for most of her life, treated with disgust by the tribe

raised by a father-figure, training endlessly to be perfect

wins the Proving, massacre happens, survivor's guilt, is badly injured, loses her family

finally joins the tribe, is forced to leave

has a crushing fate set upon her, having no choice whatsoever

captured at Sunfall, thrown in the ring as sacrifice, but survives

Kotallo:

orphan, parents are killed

is raised by his squad, sees commander as father-figure, trains endlessly to impress him and the tribe

open the gates at Barren Light, comes home a hero, is forced to leave

fate set upon him, having no choice whatsoever

is sent to the Kulrut to become a marshal or either die in the arena while trying, but survives

attends the Embassy, massacre happens, survivor's guilt, is badly injured, loses his family

figuratively becomes an outcast, treated with disgust by his tribe

This is straight up copy paste wtf guerrilla. How and why would they make an ally with nearly the same traumas, backstory and personality with the main character??? They could out-stubborn and out-sass each other you guys saw the dynamic during The Broken Sky. This is just like Aloy and Beta, that, as GAIA said, have endured hardships different at almost every aspect yet equally remarkable (though Kotallo and Aloy are waayy more similar literally the 'can I copy your homework?' meme). But that wasn't even the main point. What I'm trying to say is, all of that mentioned above not being enough, they make Aloy complete the Sky Clan trial to make rank, and complete the Kulrut to become a Marshal. They COULDN'T make them more similar, this is so obvious that I'm surprised they didn't make Kotallo a redhead with green eyes bound to save the world.

**Forgot to mention: for the entirety of their lives, they have choices set upon them, neither of them chose the life they have. Until Kotallo decides to ""forsake"" his tribe to follow her, an outlander while he is a marshal, one of the tribe's leaders and peacekeepers, in a moment where his tribe is practically at a civil war and with less than half the amount of marshals to aid Hekarro's rule. Yet he still do it, doesn't hesitate, I really wonder what will be the first choice Aloy makes for herself.

I said this was a small one? Well, guess I lied

#sorry I talk to much #but I say important things!#just love to see the similarities #I see u guerrilla #kotallo #aloy #kotaloy #aloy x kotallo #hfw #hfw spoilers #horizon forbidden west

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firstelevens · 2 years

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actually okay i was going to give u one platonic and one romantic because i am a good bestie but feel free to do the first one romantically bc i yearn for platonic sam and bucky w 14

(Part 2 to this fic, because Phil wanted to know what happened next.)

14. All my days, I’ll know your face.

Sam knows that it’s a setup.

Joaquin and Kate and Yelena are great at superheroing, but they either think that Sam is oblivious or stupid, because he’s been walking into rooms and abruptly stopping hushed conversations for days now, and they haven’t made an effort to change anything.

It can’t be a coincidence, either, that it all started about an hour after Bucky left the compound to head back to Brooklyn. At the time, after the argument they’d both been too upset to resolve, it had seemed like the best call for Sam to just let Bucky go. He hadn’t accounted for the sad puppy eyes that the rest of the team would keep throwing his way, or for the way that they would keep disappearing to the city one at a time, like they couldn’t bear to go without Bucky’s benign grouchiness for more than a couple of days.

(Privately, Sam can’t blame them.)

They’d been so bad at being subtle that Sam was a little impressed when Joaquin had called an hour ago to tell him that Kamala was on a stakeout in Manhattan and things had gotten unexpectedly hairy, and could Sam please fly down there and help her out?

He had to at least applaud their strategy: neither Sam nor Bucky would refuse a call from Kamala, who, by virtue of being the youngest Avenger, has been the cause of persistent low-grade stress in the back of both of their minds from the moment they met her.

Unfortunately for Torres and the others, the Kamala-specific stress means that they’ve both given her their phone numbers in case of emergency, and while it sometimes means getting texted incomprehensible memes, it also means that they generally know when she’s in trouble.

All of which is to say that, thanks to a few jokes about poutine and Tim Horton’s, Sam is well aware that Kamala is in fact at a wedding in Toronto at the moment, and not on a rooftop in Lower Manhattan.

Still, Sam figures it might be positive reinforcement for their teamwork if he plays along, so he straps on the wings and flies to the address that Joaquin gave him. He’s not even a little bit surprised to find a rooftop done up with fairy lights and a fire pit and no signs of an ongoing stakeout.

Bucky is already on a lounge chair when Sam touches down, nursing a cider from that one orchard in the Hudson Valley that he won’t admit to loving but finds an excuse to detour to every few months.

He forgoes a greeting, looking up at Sam and instead saying, “So I probably shouldn’t tell Torres that I’ve actually seen The Parent Trap.”

“Probably not,” says Sam, taking off the wingpack, “but it wouldn’t hurt to do some training sessions on the importance of recon.”

A hum of acknowledgment. “Bishop did use her rich kid wine skills to pick out a bottle for you, though, so maybe they’re not completely hopeless.”

Sam sits in the other lounge chair, turning the bottle of red towards him to get a better look at it. If he briefly glances over Bucky while perusing the label, no one has to acknowledge that.

It’s quiet for a bit, Sam casting around for a corkscrew–there isn’t one, so maybe it’s time to review mission prep lists and inventory in training–and Bucky staring in the general direction of the fire pit.

The sound of a bottle being set down on concrete makes Sam look over at him. When he does, Bucky has turned to face him, elbows braced on his knees with his hands interlaced between them.

“They didn’t need to do all this, you know,” he says.

Sam snorts. “The twinkle lights were probably an unnecessary addition.”

He gets a look of mild reproach in response. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do I?” asks Sam, raising his eyebrows. “One of us up and left in the middle of an argument, Buck, and it wasn’t me.”

Bucky sighs. “It’s not like another hour of fighting would’ve magically solved things.”

They’ve gained enough distance from the fight now that Sam knows that’s true. “You didn’t need to go radio silent, though,” he says. “I think I’ve earned the right to know that you’re okay. It’s been years, and we’re still pa-”

Sam catches himself, eyebrows knitting together for a moment. Before he can tie himself in knots about it, Bucky is rushing to reassure him.

“Of course we’re still partners. I wouldn’t-” he falters, shaking his head a little. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that. Not again.”

“But you could leave,” says Sam. It’s something he’s been mulling over all week, a possibility he tripped over while replaying their argument in his head. “If you wanted to be done with all of this, I mean. You could walk away.”

Everything about Bucky goes soft, his gaze unbearably tender. They should consider weaponizing those big blue puppy eyes, Sam thinks, a little hysterically.

“I know, Sam,” he says softly. “I know. But even if I did, I wouldn’t be leaving you. You know that, right? You’re stuck with me.”

And Sam does know that. He knows that Bucky is a permanent fixture in his life now, beyond just a coworker or a friend or a partner in the field. But hearing it out loud suddenly quells the worry that he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying, and all he can do in response is nod.

“You, too,” he says, when he finally finds his voice again. “You’re stuck with me, too.”

Bucky bobs his head in a nod. “I- yeah. I know.”

“Couldn’t even cut you loose if we wanted to now,” Sam jokes. If his voice shakes at all, they both ignore it. “I made my Mama’s pecan pie in front of you, and that recipe can’t leave the family.”

It gets the laugh he was hoping for, and Sam feels something slot back into place in his chest.

There are still things to talk about–Bucky’s willingness to be used as a battering ram, for one, and Sam’s stubborn refusal to let others take a hit when he can, and also maybe the thing where the literal adults who they work with keep referring to the two of them as Mom and Dad–but there’s time for that, Sam decides. They’re not going anywhere.

#zainab does ask meme things #philtstone #taylor swift prompt fics #sam x bucky #I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR #my fic

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lookherecomethewormies · 9 months

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my wacky animal crossing band AU headcanon hehe haha huhu

okay real talk i’ve had this little fake band thing in my head for years and I wanna get it out

so this is inspired by a line where isabelle da dog mentions having a band. they play fast wacky post-hardcore jazzpunk together.

the lineup is:

cherry - guitar, occasional vocal

tabby - bass, main vocalist

isabelle - percussion, other main vocalist

idk what their band name is. i prob would've named them something stupid like "Yeastie Girlz" or some shit if that name wasn't already taken.

isabelle and cherry know each other from youth when they did juvie kid shit back in the day lol. they stayed hooked up with each other when they went through their own young adult periods, and then went back to living in the same town when they moved to the poppin island village of Mycelium. they met tabby on that island and she joined up with their band because of simpatico vibes.

releases are usually albums with a shitload of small tracks with maybe one or two kinda long ones, and then sometimes an EP with a small number of really long tracks. cherry throws a lot of effects on her guitar so her playing ends up sounding like a bunch of loud chirping and wobbly metal scraping and wee woo wee woo. tabby plays her bass lines fast, has a boppy funky sound to playing, is not afraid to put on an effect pedal though usually to make her bass to sound like a wall of grotty rhythmic drones. isabelle can’t really go free jazz freakish on percussion bc their songs are ultimately too structured to allow that, but she tries! she can also do blastbeats. really fucking technical, building all those PWPs must’ve made her jacked

they're all pretty serious about their love of jazz. alright here's more info about them individually

isabelle - she grew up in the country and still has that farm kid twang to her voice. crazy childhood but filing taxes really ended up affecting her deeply and now she's by far the most well-adjusted member of the group if you define "well-adjusted" in a certain way. got a very impressive engineering degree in college, and as a reward she now works a lousy government job for a pittance + 500 bells that she WILL spend impulsively on something stupid. cherry sometimes jokes around about how she's a sellout for that but it aint serious, she understands the common worker's struggle. and, yknow, isabelle sincerely cares about doing the best for her town in the system she's stuck in so like, cmon dont be harsh on her. her public face is pretty mild-mannered, sometimes shes kinda matter-of-fact about things, but overall she nails that peppy energy everyone loves to receive from people in service when she's not flubbing stuff too much. in her personal life -- well, she doesn't have THAT many friends out there -- but with the ones she does have, she likes to be a little goofball, especially when linking zany energies with tabby. she has like a 4 year old's sense of humor but if anyone can sell peepee poopoo humor its her dumb ass. sings lead vocals on about half of their songs, her voice is loud, bright, and honestly pretty goofy because of that Country Gurl accent she has, but fits well with the generally nonserious and kinda everything-happening-at-once vibe of their music. what're her fits like, btw? an absolutely delightfully meticulous (she comes up with 90% of her wardrobe on the fly) combination of christian girl autumn, normcore, sillywave, raymondpunk, bio-wibbletech, and just a dash of edgy looking band merch or novelty t-shirts to really complete the look.

cherry - the thoughful, philosophical engine of the group even though she hardly writes any lyrics and mostly sits in the back making funny neenee noodleynoo noises with her guitar but trust me here. grew up in the same rural town as isabelle, and ended up moving back in a town where izzy now works! (its only like 75% a coincidence, she had to chase the money and figured Mycelium job market and being able to see her bestie was the best choice) She works a dead-end bullshit retail job on the island and always looks like she wants to kill everybody there. very loudly a proud commie through and through, she likes to wear this little red-guard lookin hat everywhere. the band are not embarrassed about their leftist messaging but cherry is by far the most motivated to stir up some shit. she helps organize locally and is very serious about reading up on Theory and has very little tolerance for poseurs. VERY occasionally does lead vocals, in that case she's writing the lyrics, hers are a lot more existential and political in nature than the other two's. very deep voice, she basically sounds like a scary Goth yknow? her singing voice is monotone and basically just her normal voice with more authority. she likes to put on an austere face but she's the easiest to make laugh, even at isabelle's dumbass jokes -- the other gals of course take advantage of this to tease her. as a strongly passionate individual she is also the most likely to start ranting at her computer screen when she's having trouble with something. she's got a pretty solid costume for concert appearances and photo ops that makes her probably the most recognizable member: Mao hat, long jacket, ragged looking pants, combat boots, and a pair of sunglasses.

tabby - every band needs the crazy one! she could bomb a hospital and the band would still have to drag her along because she's just that fucking good at bass. absolutely crazy mastery of speed and technique, her bouncing basslines usually provide a melodic counterpart to cherry's industrial vague notions towards "music" and whatever the fuck isabelle is doing back there. she's the only one without any classical training, though! as the lead bassist, she keeps the lead guitarist and lead drummer in check, creating a beautiful homeostasis of chaotic, highly technical songwriting and playing with all the brutality and energy of hardcore punk but also some of that inherent nerd-ass quality that comes with having three extremely proficient instrumentalists that know how to do a lot of things with their instruments. but enough of that bullshit, we gotta get to her VOCALS! she covers the majority of non-isabelle songs and her voice contrasts nicely -- isabelle has a deeper voice, sings brashly and over-the-top like she's eartha kitt doing i wanna be evil if she held her notes twice as long, but yknow she's been in classes for that and knows what she's doing and has a wide octave range. tabby meanwhile sounds like a living cartoon character.... BECAUSE SHE IS ONE!! but seriously she's got that high pitched peppy voice, but with enough roughness and scratchyness to it to make it actually fit the music. her speaking voice is actually pretty normal, but on the mic she leans into the most nasal, obnoxious tones possible. she got that shmorky voice to her i wont lie BUT SHE MAKES IT WORK!!! just say shes like uhhhh female psychicpebbles or something so you dont make her look lame. im being overdramatic about her voice btw, she actually has a pretty decent range and a FANTASTIC growl + scream but those only come out every-so-often. her lyrics are often violent, disgusting, brutally blunt in detail, and she's the one most inclined to doing crazy antics on stage. she usually comes to concerts in full leather wrapped with chains and parts of her body tied up and shit and like whatever nasty looking medical equipment she could find to put on her face and after each concert will be taken home bleeding from at least 2 or 3 different places. she's pretty chill irl though, but definitely as big as a goofball as isabelle. isabelle's the one that always takes leads on a goof attack, and tabby plays second-hand along with chief goof-strategist much to the annoyance/mirth of cherry. isabelle and cherry dont know much about her past yet bc she's pretty mum on talking about it much, but apparently she had rich parents but cut contact with them years back, and now just has an average ol life doing part time as a janitor, odd jobs on the side, and living in a nasty little apartment with her roomie katt. still, that general wealth helped a little, and she was able to build what she saved into a fairly stable life, so she's usually the one paying out of pocket for most of the band expenses. she's legit though, u know that because cherry would've beat her up otherwise

umm yess that's basically all i have to say i will post more if i remember more. if nintendo hires me i will also add to the canon that their 1st album name is "Poopin in the Boys Room" but that's not canon yet.

#animal crossing

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pinkseas · 1 year

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[parasocial bestie] am going thru hte ask and methinks everything's settled and now we can go bac to square one of our routine braining i think <333 ALSO I SAW THE POST ABT THE. DNI with me unless you are a perfect clone of me like REAL SO REAL altho we have diff interpretation on things icb i did manage to find someone out of pure coincidence who likes 98% of what i like abt xlmi and genshin in entirely i just <3333333 like EEEEEEEEEEEEEE i finally have a reason to take my mind off twitter. tumlr ur always hte man 4 me. anyway

"its just part of his life part of his duty nothing more and nothing less. but that doesnt stop the shame that comes with anything he perceives as failure" OH GOD YEAH THAT IS SUCH AN EXCEPTION he holds high standards of what he does to ppl but not what he does for himself. it just feels so fucking painful abt xiao's character never considering himself in everything Except when it comes to other ppl to the point he goes for self sacrifice is SO!!! and yet what he does hold such noble intentions of a selfless hero even by the means of thankless acts, that he'll never be a figure to be worshipped and known as much as other adepti do. "After living for so long... to die in the act of saving others would not have been a terrible thing." is always a line that gets me about his character in entirety that he really needs to see things in another perspective too.

"it may not be the Main focus but zhongli and xiao's relationship in this fic is basically the second biggest focus beyond xiao himself/the xiaolumi of it all tbh" even before The Brainrot Festivals GOD WE ARE SHARING THE BRAIN. ive always had this impression since the start i knew of xiao those years ago, how important zhongli is as that certain figure in his life; a master a mentor a guardian just someone who reflect on his life for experiencing the same thing. but xiao doesnt know that well about zhongli, about morax, and how much the guy's changed and felt the need itd be better for xiao himself to change too. it doesnt have to be the same, for what zhongli tries to teach him, it had to be something that makes his life at least, if not bearable, is simply for xiao to be comfortable and free of suffering bc the guy doesnt let himself to. and dkfksajhdas i explore this sm though brainrots and all the different scenarios like when i told u about them going fishing, and then there's the very Very important chain of events i had in mind how it is when xiao coped about rex lapis' death and what happened after knowing.

it's a little embarrassing to explain how but like yknow my tendency to just Hurt Xiao in ways not completely whump but in a form of vulnerability he truly needs that attention and care bc of his routines and duty are slowly eating him inside out. vulnerabilities of his emotional detachment affecting his body that makes him so human. i think abt how he supresses so much in the past pre-morax he genuinely doesnt know how to express anymore, and when he does, its a sensation so overwhelming that his body isnt used to it anymore with the catharsis all the fight and flight responses the adrenaline giving him the chest pain of just,.. having emotions yknow. and the death of the yakshas the disappearance of bosacius all had different magnitudes of emotion that the death of rex lapis affected him so much being the last straw of it all, how it all crashes down when exuvia fell and not rising back up again giving him that strong reaction then he Overworks To Cope.

then comes the time zhongli came to the balcony (in canon he reveals the truth in dreams,.. but i Like the two that they have a diff confrontation bc of how much zhongli knows xiao back then until the present) to tell everything, just for the revelation to hit xiao like a truck the pain the catharsis the exhaustion Everything hes been through the past few days where zhongli prolonged saying the truth now hit him that his body couldnt take it all and just shuts down. like boom he collapsed. and that's not a good reaction at all, and yet the yaksha recovers (as much as he managed, despite how weak it rendered him), assuring he's ok, trying to dismiss it with the same numbness that plagued him since morax saved him. back to square one. mf factory resetted himself, starting over. rex lapis is alive and thats good in all things thats it, all the unwilling attempts in processing it are now useless. and it brings a whole new story of how zhongli sees this all unfold altogether.

and i just,... shniffsniff....... think about what comes after, bc zhongli is not gonna let that slide even if he's pretending as a mortal even if he has to spend most of his time in the harbor since he wants to, but he also wants the best for xiao; the only one who hasnt let go of the past and accept change like the adepti does bc he doesnt know how. and its through the little things; giving the remedium, be it through posting or directly to the inn (id like to think verr goldet is the only one who knows by mere guess hes rex lapis, but respects his decision to step down no matter the reason, and zhongli trusts her immensely on the secret in exchange he becomes that special balcony visitor. an unspoken agreement o both of them.), the times xiao blacks out from karma and he wakes up on bed in his personal room in the inn with cold tea by the bedside. when he finishes his battle in the middle of heavy rain, drenched and cold, and he feels the bullets on his shoulder stop from the shield of an umbrella behind him; zhongli doesnt say anything more than to advise him of proper shelter nearby. when he finds xiao curled up, knees on his chest in his own needed respite, in pain but also in shame, zhongli takes the time to simply kneel and pat his head and keep him company until xiao can quietly teleport away. like god do you have any idea how much i love the thought of parental zhongli or at least a zhongli who Cares like can you tell

anyway icb thats enough for me to go on 4 paragraphs longer than i intended OK MOVING ON EVERYTHING YOU EXPLAIN ABOUT XIAOS WINGS,... GOD its the way it makes sense it makes so much sense he'd rather have any semblance of his past severed to build himself anew but its kinda funny too. that he intends as such and yet he also doesnt; still thinking himself as sinful as he was as the bloodhound who deserves all the punishment when the whole point of starting anew is Not Doing That and actually continue as a fresh warrior with new roles and new things to do without counting the past. like WHAT BRO

personally id go for the first one bc i still like the thought he keeps them for the mere sentimentality and i feel like he wouldnt bear to lose the only thing he wants to hold on about a childhood he lost before, even if he doesnt remember it. the mere thought of it existing providing him that sort of painful comfort its still there, even if seeing it hurts knowing he cant taste the joy of flight anymore. having flight being out of reach and he'd have constant reminders of it is just that little sign xiao never really moved forward even in the beginning o)-( he doesnt even summon it after it recovered, doesnt even pay attention while people tended it, only finding the solace of it existing at his back. and yknow for the Pain Points i actually thought that after it had been mangled so bad xiao never actually showed it to anyone its condition despite his human body recovered and he purposely Dismisses Its There than just Knowing, and its only when the pain of it being untreated becomes unbearable and at the right topic being brought up did he reveal them. guizhong had been so terrified of its condition, so pitied and devastated that they werent told and xiao was so small so young hes a child hes a child and he revealed them without an change in his expression to the moment he falls from the pain. the way he speaks of his wings as a mere fact it existed. and at some point in her grief to him she felt the need to just,.. restore his flight by making mechanical wings bc she just knew his real ones wont support him anymore even after treatment. and morax himself shared the exact sentiment, the two standing forlornly and the half-progress blueprints guizhong spent day and night in her tears to just give xiao back what he lost.

other bits im just AUUUUUUUUEUEUHUSHFVUFBKDSHFKJSDFKH SO TRUE SO TRUE UEEEEEEEEEEE CUS I RAN OUT OF BRAIN JUICE WRITING THE OTHERS. like i hope u get da message. i rlly spend everything on two things JDFHKSDJFHKSDJH ok but wait "learning to feel human learning to live as mortal people do learning the values of life itself learning how to love the little things" LIKE MAN....................................... also giggling wit u thats the problem on the theory when 500 yrs had passed then wats the use of scouting, hows the other world going bro? 500 yrs late and alrd destroyed? yeah

teehee

"i finally have a reason to take my mind off twitter" YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and in the end isnt that the most important thing of all… LMAO no but genuinely so so so glad bc ur right the sheer Coincidence of liking so many of the same aspects of this game i love it so bad we're so cool and epic for this fr

"never considering himself in everything Except when it comes to other ppl to the point he goes for self sacrifice" yeah o(-( THE NOBLE INTENTIONS THE THANKLESS ACTS… dies a little bit. AND YEAH THAT FUCKING LINE KILLS ME EVERY TIME ITS SO. IM SO. IM SO.

"a master a mentor a guardian" HE IS SO IMPORTANT TO XIAO AND THEY ARE SO IMPORTANT TO ME !!!!!!!!! and ohhh my god xiao not realizing how much has changed and that zhongli thinks itd be for the better if xiao changed too… trying to teach him how to be comfortable and how to suffer less………..

"my tendency to just Hurt Xiao in ways not completely whump but in a form of vulnerability he truly needs" NO BC UR SO BASED FOR THIS imo xiao is like. either a) you have to really Get In There and take his walls down brick by brick with so much patience and care, or b) something uncontrollable has to come in and smash those walls to pieces all at once, to the point where he needs the help from others where he has no choice but to let people in and be vulnerable around them. specific people cant really try to force it, i REALLY dont think that would work at all i think thatd make things so much worse, but either lots of patience and care or smth that isnt done Purposefully By Anyone Else for the sake of him opening up yknow??

"bc his routines and duty are slowly eating him inside out" NO BEACUSE YEAH. YEAH. GOD. his karma :handshake: his duty settling on his shoulders consuming his life eating away at him so slowly but surely. and what would he do without them? who would he be without them? he doesnt even know. he thinks there'd be nothing left but there'd be so much and then so much room for him to grow, too, and i just. i just. fmgnmdfngmfdg.

THE CHEST PAIN OF EMOTIONS repressing so much he literally just doesnt know what to do with it im so. Explodes. that last fucking straw after centuries of hardship is something that can be so. AND XIAO TRYING TO DISMISS IT WHEN HE FLAT OUT COLLAPSES being ashamed to have been so """weak""" as for that to have happened going back to square one with feeling numb im so. and the way that changes zhongli's perception of everything ohhhhh my god. xiao going from someone so strong and resilient, every bad thing seemingly rolling off without stopping him, only to realize that while he is strong and he is resilient everything that he seemed to have dealt with on his own has just. made its way into his chest and festered there, buried and ignored and rotting, eating him alive bit by bit.

"but he also wants the best for xiao, the only one who hasnt let go of the past and accepted change like the adepti do bc he doesnt know how" THISSSS he doesnt know how. god. GOD. xiao seemingly so detached from the past, he himself not realizing just how much he clings to it the fact that he's still living in it something something a house on fire something something being so used to something that you dont realize its not supposed to hurt this much, its not supposed to feel this way.

"(id like to think verr goldet is the only one who knows by mere guess hes rex lapis)" THIS FUCKS i support this wholeheartedly it makes a lot of sense and mmmmm the mutual respect and trust they have for one another even unspoken…. the care they have for xiao the gratitude that someone is looking after him in ways they themselves are unable to do…. explodes.

BLACKING OUT AND WAKING UP ON HIS BED ohhh my god. there is osmething So Personal about all of that about zhongli not always actively Doing Something or Saying Anything but just BEING there being around xiao showing that he cares that xiao isnt alone. fuck. I CAN TELL AND I LOVE IT SO BAD ITS SO GOOD idk i like. i rly liked the idea?? but it takes more of a push for me to really Think About and brainrot parental characters or guardian figures and everything youve ever said abt them has made me go from "yeah that fucks, nice" to "yeah that FUCKS let me think about every scenario ever on earth with them now" which i am so grateful for <3333

"still thinking of himself as sinful as he was as the bloodhound who deserves all punishment when the whole point of starting anew is Not Doing That" YEAHHHHH man said alright let me sever all ties let me cut myself loose. except for every awful thing i have ever done which will live with me in my heart forever amen. king PLEASE

and god yeah wanting to hold on even without remembering it, that painful comfort the constant reminder of what he once had and never will again and IT BEING A SIGN THAT HE NEVER TRULY MOVED FORWARD…. man. Man. guizhong being so horrified and sympathetic, mourning for him when he cannot mourn for himself, MECHANICAL WINGS……. thinks so hard about those blueprints gathering dust, not quite perfected, eternally unfinished. thinks so hard about the traveler someday stumbling across them, or zhongli after his retirement digging them up again, either way them going to each other with the knowledge and searching for someone who could help make them a reality, working with perhaps inventors from fontaine and getting venti's blessing similarly to how its his power that allows the wind gliders to work (i think??) and using the traveler's knowledge from other worlds and familiarity with flight and determination to help xiao regain what was lost.

i like to think that where lumine is awfully fond of nature aether excels with machinery, maybe she could use what she'd learned from him or maybe he himself In The Aftermath if things go well enough could help and just. god. polishing up those finishing touches making them work testing them out. xiao being able to fly again. xiao healing enough mentally to be able to bring himself to even try fly again.

#parasocial bestie tag

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maychild · 4 months

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black christmas (1974)

black christmas did not impress me. i know many people see it as a staple of the horror genre, and i can see how many modern slashers owe a lot to it (someone on tiktok said that we wouldn't have gotten halloween if black christmas didn't come first, and i completely agree, even if it's not true, there were a whole lot of similarities for it to be a mere coincidence, imo.)

I know it was four years before the first halloween, but the opening def. gave me those same vibes--the beginning pov is from the serial killer, lurking on the outside looking in and the breathing! and the call coming from inside the house, so it def feels like all the stereotypical tropes of the horror genre, but if you've seen even just one slasher, then nothing that BC does feels new or even *good* essentially (if anything, if you've only watched halloween and nothing else, then you'd think that BC ripped off halloween, even if BC came first, and it's more likely that halloween ripped off BC but made it more iconic).

the cons: the editing and story, mostly. the minor and supporting characters all have drama going on in their lives, but i was so bored. also, like most people's criticism of this movie: not enough gore.

the pros: def. margot kidder and olivia hussey (i love these two so freakin' much and they def. carried the majority of this movie on their backs). marian waldman and andrea martin were fantastic as well. but, again, i didn't care too much about these characters and so when they died, i didn't care too much. (if anything, it annoyed me how stupid everyone was being and how it seemed like they were killed off way too "easily"). 2/5 stars

#black christmas #black christmas 1974 #movies #reviews #horror #slashers #idk if i'll see any of the remakes--i often dont #because if i dont like the original all that much chances are i'm not gonna like the remake/sequels either #esp. if they're slashers and horror movies

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lycanthropicture · 3 years

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having supernatural politics thoughts. i was under the impression that jefferson rooney's sudden appearance and disappearance completely fucked up the supernatural political timeline, and it kinda did. the main problem is that there are contradictions with mentions of both obama and trump during what should be rooney's time in office (pre-LOTUS 12x08). how do you have time for both a second obama term AND trump, but still sandwich rooney in between?

well, yours truly just spent a few hours going thru every mention of obama, rooney, and trump on supernatural.fandom.com (lol), thinking i was going to be able to prove that this isn't technically possible, and buckleming sucks and that they maybe even killed off obama to make room for rooney after which i was going to be like "what did u do to obama, buckleming???" but actually i found a way for the political timeline to be preserved for the most part without any really big leaps in logic. (buckleming is still dumb as hell for this tho bc it is pure coincidence of air dates and throwaway jokes that it works out perfectly)

ok so obama was definitely president for at least one term in universe bc bobby references obamacare in 7x02 which aired in september 2011. the supernatural wiki says he served two terms, but their evidence for the second term is this part of 10x12, which aired in february 2015:

which. idk that doesn't necessarily indicate that obama is still president. it implies it, sure, but doesn't really confirm it. the last real confirmation for obama being president is 7x12, which aired january 13 2012 (dean says the president is a black guy. gonna just assume this is about obama bc if it's not it opens up a whole new can of worms lmaoo). On that date, obama was still in his first term, so we really have no confirmation of a second obama term. which brings us to jefferson rooney.

jefferson rooney's first appearance/mention is in 12x08, which aired december 8th, 2016. This is after the 2016 election but before inauguration for the next term. this implies, at least to me that rooney won the 2012 election and at the time of 12x08 has already lost the 2016 election to donald trump. by the time we get to 13x09 (aired december 7, 2017), trump is president (kaia says her drug dealer is just trying to make it in trump's america).

all this together tells me that in supernatural, obama is president from 2009-2013, rooney is president from 2013-2017 (which irl was obama's second term), and trump is president from 2017-(2021??). simple! right?

NO.

THIS RAISES SO MANY MORE QUESTIONS THAN IT ANSWERS.

first of all, people commonly think of rooney as a republican. generally this has to do with the implication that kelly kline is pro-life, as well as rooney saying yes to lucifer bc he wants to bring about an era of spirituality to america. he's not explicitly stated to be a republican, but he's... republican-coded LOL. makes sense. and it also makes sense for him to have run against obama in 2012. got it. rooney is a republican (and also very clearly a mitt romney stand-in - generally seen as a good guy, religious, ran against obama in 2012).

but how the FUCK did this guy lose to trump. first of all, if theyre both republicans, that means either he lost to trump in the primary (which would be BIG NEWS for sitting president), or trump ran as a third party candidate. ok, i can see that, but what the fuck does THIS line mean then?

how does jefferson rooney become the most popular sitting president in modern history a month after losing his bid for reelection. he literally cannot.

the ONLY explanation that i can come up with is that jefferson rooney MUST have won the november 2016 election. i'm sorry, it's just not making sense to me any other way. which means, jefferson rooney became... indisposed... sometime between december 2016 and december 2017, and somehow this led to donald trump becoming president.

NOW. i very highly doubt that donald trump would ever run as jefferson "i'm satan's little bitch" rooney's running mate (or anyone's running mate for that matter).

ALSO we do have some evidence that trump did run his own campaign for president. in 11x22 (aired may 18, 2016), crowley makes a speech to his demons that parodies trump's campaign announcement speech and uses the phrase "make hell great again." they make the same joke again in 13x02 (aired october 19, 2017) when drexel tells asmodeus that lucifer will return to make hell great again. so trump is almost definitely not rooney's VP.

SO. what does this all add up to? WELL LET ME TELL YOU. here's what i think happened. jefferson rooney went into the november election with TWO major opponents: the democrat challenger (presumably hillary clinton? but unclear) and third party candidate, donald trump. since jefferson is the most popular sitting president or whatever, he wins. but in the US, popular vote does not decide the president; the electoral college does.

when did the electoral college meet and vote in 2016? december 19th. that's right! 11 days AFTER jefferson rooney is last seen on screen (december 8th in LOTUS 12x08, i'll remind you). so presumably, rooney goes missing pretty soon after we see him last.

as for why he goes missing, i'm going with one of two options: 1. he steps down after being possessed because going off the following convo from 12x09 (takes place immediately following LOTUS) :

he either has a 3 day gap in his memory, or he knows he's been possessed by the literal devil and endangered the whole world by letting LUCIFER be PRESIDENT. either way, he steps down bc he questions his own fitness to serve a second term. or 2. he literally just. dies. possibly as a result of a (spoiler alert for two paragraphs from now) demon deal.

what does the electoral college do if the president-elect DIES or steps down before they are able to meet? i cannot believe i researched fucking constitutional law for this stupid fucking post (jk lmao i watched like two cgp grey videos). well, the electors would likely be expected to vote for whoever their national party chooses as a replacement. the logical replacement would be the vice president-elect, but then you need a new vice president-elect as well.

UNLESS. there's a certain third-party candidate that REALLY wants to be president and sees an opening. all he'd have to do is rig the electoral college vote somehow in his favor. hmmm i wonder how donald trump could possibly rig an electoral college-

oh yeah he literally canonically made a demon deal with Crowley (mentioned in 14x20).

SO. theres my answer. problem solved, baby. jefferson rooney went missing after the events of 12x08, 11 days before the electoral college can meet. donald trump sees an opening and makes a demon deal to rig the electoral college votes in his favor, allowing him to essentially steal the election from the most popular sitting president of all time, a month after the election happens. like i said, this deal could have also included getting jefferson rooney... uh... out of the way, as well.

thus, the timeline is TECHNICALLY preserved. well done buckleming! ur stupid president thing only took me a few hours to logic my way out of, and only bc of a throwaway joke from an episode two seasons later that you didnt even write! well done :)

#i dont know if anyone on the planet has any fucking interest in this at all #and i do not know why i did this to myself #but im weirdly proud of this #my magnum opus #a supernatural political timeline dissection #fuck buckleming for making me do this #they forced my hand #anyway idk if anyone's actually gonna read all this but #LMAOO #lmk if u do. gimme ur thoughts #phin.txt #500

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1kook · 3 years

Text

BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

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xebecatt2002 · 3 years

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"Gabrielle, Tell him. Do the Bard thing" Chariots of War

From the very first episode Gabrielle is introduced as a storyteller and straight away it is hard not to be impressed with the level of authenticity the writers give to Gabrielle’s skills as a Bard. Many of these stories she tells are based on fragments of authentic myths.

'Chariots of War', the second episode of the series, opens on Gabrielle telling Xena a story as they make their way to the bar in a village tavern. Though we only catch the ending of her story, there is still interesting details to unpick.

G: “And so, Zeus, in his appreciation, turned the two lovers into oak trees. And then do you know what happened?”

X: “Somebody built a boat out of them?”

G: “No-- their branches intertwined, and they spent the rest of their days in each other’s embrace.”

There are a lot of stories in Greek myth involving 'metamorphoses', the Greek word for ‘transformations’, with both gods and mortals turning into other things like plants or animals. The only story that comes close to the one Gabrielle tells is the story of Baucis and Philemon.

The complete version of the myth is only found in the work ‘Metamorphoses'. It is a collection of myths woven together into a narrative through their common theme of transformation. It was written by the Roman poet Ovid who lived between 43 BC and 17 AD, a period of Roman history which saw the end of the Roman Republic and the reign of the first Emperor, Augustus.

The gods Zeus and Hermes (known here in their Roman forms, Jupiter and Mercury) disguise themselves as mortals and travel across Greece. When they seek hospitality from the mortals they encounter, they find themselves turned away from every household until the come upon the simple home of Philemon and Baucis.

‘Looking for shelter and rest, they called at a thousand

homesteads;

a thousand doors were bolted against them. One

house, however,

did make them welcome, a humble abode with a roof

of straw

and marsh reed, one that new its duty to the gods and men.

Here good Philemon an Baucis had happily passed

their youth

and here they had reached old age, enduring their

poverty lightly

by owning it freely and being content with the little

they had.’

Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.628-635

Here the couple greet the strangers and offer up what little they have, providing them with the best of the meagre food and wine unknowing their true divine identities. Ovid goes in to quite a bit of detail describing the hospitality the couple offer especially the dishes that make up their feast during. While they entertain their guests the cups magically refill with wine.

‘Meanwhile, whenever the mixing-bowl got empty,

it seemed

To refill of its own accord, with the wine welling up by

itself.

Stunned and scared by this wonder, Philemon,

trembling, and Baucis

lifted their upturn hands to heaven and fervently

prayed

For forgiveness after serving so poorly prepared a repast.’

Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.679-682

Fearing they have offended their divine guest they seek to appease them by sacrificing their only goose. This leads to a comical scene with the elderly couple chasing the goose and failing to catch it. It appears to run towards to gods for safety which seems to work as the gods command them to spare the bird as they are grateful for what they have already provided.

They then proclaim that the couple will be spared from the punishment they will inflict of their impious neighbours who refused to honour the Greek custom of hospitality known as xenia (ξενία), a word derived from the Greek word for stranger xenos(ξένος). Sometimes referred to as 'ritualized friendship' the custom was based on generosity, courtesy and gift-giving that strengthen ties between people. In earlier times when it was thought that the gods walked among mortals it was even more important to respect these customs to avoid incurring the wrath of a visiting god. It would became seen as a moral obligation for both Guest and Host to show respect to each other.

Returning to Ovid's story, the couple leave their home with the gods and head to the safety mountains. There they witness the flood the gods send down to wipe out their impious neighbours. Nothing is spared except the couple’s home which undergoes its own transformation as it becomes a temple to the gods.

The gods offer to grant the couple anything they desire as reward. After deliberating with each other Philemon and Baucis ask to be guardians of the new temple and also, that when the time comes for them to die, that they die together so they don’t have to suffer the loss of their partner. After many years happy years together they are transformed into Trees. Philemon an Oak and Baucis a linden.

"We

ask

to be priests and to guard your temple; and since we

have passed our years

together in peace, let the same hour carry us off, so I

need not

look on my dear wife’s grave, nor she have to bury my

body."

Their wish was granted; as long as life was allowed

them, they served

as the temple’s guardians. When time had taken its

final toll,

and while they were casually standing in front of the

steps of the building,

telling the sanctuary’s history, both Philemon and

Baucis

witnessed their partner sprouting leaves on their worn

old limbs

As the tops of the trees spread over their lip sand concealed

them forever.

Still to this day the peasants of Phrygia point to the oak

and the linden nearby which once where the forms of

Philemon and Baucis.’ Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.712-720

The devotion the couple have for each other is really endearing. You can really see why this story would appeal to a young Gabrielle who left her home and arranged marriage to find the true place she feels she belongs.

It is also an interesting choice of story to share with Xena, someone she’s just met who is aloof and independent. She’s eager to befriend the warrior but is finding her emotionally distant. This emotional distance is reflected in the physical distance between them. In these early episodes they have clearly defined personal spaces, such as sperate bedrolls, and they spend a lot of time apart as Gabrielle is left behind in a 'safe' location. You could read into this that just as Xena tries to keep distance between her and Gabrielle physically to protect her, she is trying to keep her emotionally distant for safety reasons as well. In some ways Gabrielle may understand this which is why she choses to tell this particular story to Xena. The old couple might seem weak and vulnerable but they are given strength by the devotion and support they have for each other. Gabrielle is trying to show her new friend that caring isn't a weakness but a source of strength by using this story as an example.

X: “What’s the point?”

G: “Come on, Xena. I believe everyone will find their tree in the forest someday-- even you.”

X: “I find the strongest trees in the forest stand alone.”

G: “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Xena; sometimes it’s good for the soul to be soft.”

This moment beautifully foreshadows the relationship that grows between Xena and Gabrielle throughout the series as both become entwined emotionally, spiritually and physically in a multiple of ways. There are moments that the imagery of the myth is invoked in such a way that Xena and Gabrielle symbolically become the lovers. Intentional or not by the writers it is a fantastic coincidence.

One episode that subtly does this is ‘The Abyss’ during one of its poignant cave scenes. After an encounter with cannibals Xena and an injured Gabrielle become tapped in a cave that is rapidly flooding. As Xena tries to get them out, Gabrielle tells Xena her final wish, that she wants to be buried with Xena.

X [Whispers]: "Gabrielle-- Gabrielle-- here-- here. The time's

come. We're getting you out of here, all right?"

G: "Oh."

X: "All right."

G: "Xena, I have a-- a last wish."

X: "I don't want to hear of it."

G: "No-- I'm serious. You don't want to know?"

X: "What is it, then?"

G: "I don't-- want to be buried-- with the Amazons."

X: "All right. Well, in fifty years, when the time comes."

G: "Xena-- I wanna lie with you-- with your family? In

Amphipolis."

X: "What about your family?"

G: "I love them-- but I'm a part of you. I want it to be like

that forever. I love you."

It is the climax of a series of intimate moments that are grounded in their love and devotion to each other. Gabrielle’s words cement their soulmate relationship. They are meant to be, and will be, together forever like the lovers of her story.

The context of this moment adds another layer to this allusion. As Gabrielle is affirming to Xena that she is a part of her, the warrior princess is preparing to save her injured partner by tying her to herself using vines. This nicely invokes images of Gabrielle’s story of the two lovers who becoming trees and entwining together. Also it connects with Ovid's tale of Philemon and Baucis as like the mythic couple, Xena cannot bear to witness the death of her partner. As Philemon and Baucis were spared that fate by being transformed into trees, Xena is using a plant to physically entwine her and Gabrielle to save her from death.

This climb up the ravine walls to escape the rising water could be reminiscent of Philemon's and Baucis' arduous climb up the mountain to escape the flood or just another coincidence. What perhaps isn't is that it is love and devotion that binds each couple together for eternity. Just like the lovers in the story Gabrielle tells in season one, and the myth it is based upon, Xena and Gabrielle will be together for eternity in each other's embrace.

Throughout the series there are a number of different ways Xena and Gabrielle become entwined together. As the emotional distance between them shrinks, the physical space seen in earlier episodes disappears and they begin to embrace each other. Not only is there a myriad of touches and hugs to connect them but while sitting, walking and even fighting they become inseparable.

They become so close that they pick up traits from each other and almost merge into one. This is such a vast topic to discuss it really needs its own post to explore in detail but the importance for this discussion is the idea that they merge into one entity. The idea that they become one is the connection with the myths and invokes the imagery of metamorphosis.

This metamorphosis becomes literal later in the series. In season 5’s ‘Succession’ during Ares’ contest to determine a worthy successor to Xena as his Chosen, he places Gabrielle and Xena into the same body. At dawn they discover that Gabrielle metamorphoses in to Xena and dusk, Xena into Gabrielle. This nicely alludes to Gabrielle’s story as they transform, much like the couple becoming entwine trees, two individuals become one entwined in each others bodies.

This physical metamorphoses happens in the series when it has become fully established that these two are soulmates, destined to be together for eternity. They are truly devoted to each other that they cannot be separated, just as the lovers cannot bear to be parted from each other even when they are transformed into trees.

As Gabrielle predicted at the end of her story, they both found their tree in the forest in each other.

Sources

Ovid, Metamorphoses

Whoosh.org, Episode Transcripts

Screen captures by myself

Thanks to Simjay on the Discord Xena group for the Gifs!

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langernameohnebedeutung · 3 years

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Top five magneto moments from the X-Men movies?

Ohhh...lemme think. (I tried picking from different films. It's not really in any order of preference, just scenes I think are neat.

1. aka the first one. I mean, not the first-first one or the second one or- but the first scene with Charles and Erik being Like That and doing their thing.

There's already at least one pretty popular post about why this scene is so damn good and how it tells us so much about these guys' dynamic without telling us much at all and I just really think it's well-done, well-acted. Especially since in the og movies, Mags and Charles aren't the main-characters so they don't get that much screen-time but this is what we need to know and there is just so much being communicated. I was kind of torn whether to pick this one or the very last one of the film but I chose this one bc I feel like the first one is more about Magneto (we already know he's going to be the villain right here, we learn what motivates him, we get some of the trademark bitchiness Ian McKellen brings to the character. Good stuff. Also when he walks off like: "We're the future, Charles! Not them! They no longer matter!" So much going on here.) while the end-one is more about Professor X. Also, for me the last scene actually elevates this one even further because of the way it makes this exchange frame the entire narrative of the film. You do get the sense that Charles and Erik are two chessplayers moving their pieces with the whole "What are you doing here?" - "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?" and -

Like, you just get the sense that everything that happened between those scenes is just a little bit beneath them. It isn't any major break or change in their lives or relationship, they're the same as before and that also gives you an idea about the kind of history these guys already got to have.

2). Obviously.

Iconic. Show-stopping. Do I even need to say anything? Probably one of my favourite prison-break scenes ever put on screen. Everything about it. The dialogue, the violence, the "never trust a beautiful woman - especially one that's interested in you", the camera movement, the wink, the glass shattering and the cell coming apart, Ian McKellen floating on a metal/blood frisbee. This one has it all. Some physics guy on YouTube actually made a video about how powerful Magneto has to pull this off and apparently, this is a lot more impressive than any of the major property damage we see him cause across films.

3. Ah yes the Villa Gesell scene

Lemme say first: This scene is completely and utterly pointless from a plot-perspective. It's literally just a character moment. And I love character moments. It's just there to show us who Erik is and the film bends over backwards to justify this scene being in it: An entire stack of coincidences that is Shaw's photo hanging on the wall of this pub with the name of his boat clearly visible and he's sitting next to the two Nazis who happen to be sitting in this very pub right there and then and of course one of them has his Nazi knife with him (which is a very weird mixture of a Hitler Youth knife and an SS Honour Dagger and even ignoring that it's a mess bc they even forgot that German capitalises its nouns so why is the inscription all lower case and I'm the most annoying person on the planet to watch movies with but t-)

And the thing is - I actually like this entire scene even more for all of that. Because they could have just had that Swiss banker tell Mags where Shaw is. But instead, his entire trip to Argentinia is in there to let us see Erik kill Nazis and we get an exact sense of what he's doing with his life, who he is, how he is - and also did I mention dead Nazis? - I live for that (and also for a deleted scene where he sees a mother and her kid at the Argentinian airport and has a flashback and 😢).

I also like that it continues the pattern we get in the bank scene where he doesn't confront his targets directly but sets them up to incriminate themselves. We also get the "Frankenstein's Monster"-line which is something I have a lot of thoughts about - especially bc the whole "what makes us human/monsters"-question is a big deal in the movie. Also-also it sets up Charles 'head empty' moment from the finale of the movie where he tells Erik that the people CURRENTLY FIRING FUCKING NUCLEAR MISSILES AT THEM are just 'good innocent men' who are 'just following orders' and you just get the sense of how often Erik has heard this shit (also...thinking about how this film is set in 1962, meaning right after the Eichmann trial). There's just. A lot going on.

4. Oh let's be controversial!

ok I know this is something I know a lot of people hold against Erik and say it's one of his meanest and most unfair moments. but honestly? His anger is at least as earned as Charles' at this point and any take on this scene that is "one of them is right and the other is wrong" is ...boring. Erik once again lost people he cared about, he spent ten years in solitary confinement for a crime he didn't commit, he just learnt that literally everything that he warned about in the last film will happen (already has happened, partially), pretty much word for word ("Identification, that's how it starts. And ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated.) to the point that an actual TIME-TRAVELLER comes back from the fucking future to tell them how bad they all fucked up.

(One of the things I like is that he doesn't make a difference between people who chose his side and people who chose Charles' side - he names Banshee along with Emma, Azazel, Angel. He's just sad about all of them. Generally, I'm still prissy that we never got to see him go full Magneto for any length of time in the prequels so him speaking of 'mutant brothers and sisters' is the closest we get to knowing what he would be like if they didn't always find some new weird between-movies plot for him like prison or starting a family in Poland or starting a leftist commune on an island - although I can kind of respect that one.)

Also anyone who ever had the misfortune of actually hearing me talk about this movie for any lengths of time knows I have...a lot of thoughts about Erik and his time in solitary confinement and I like that the first times we see his powers after he gets out after ten years of no metal, it's a huge mess. Erik as we know him from First Class would probably just wave his hands at those guards in the Pentagon kitchen and kill them with a few well-aimed knives in a blink of an eye - but this time around, he trashes the entire room and hits no one. And in the plane scene we see him lose control completely and almost bring down the plane once he snaps and you really get the sense that after ten years, he's no longer used to having metal around that reacts to his powers.

Also, in that same scene the mutual acknowledgement between him and Logan in the end? I liked that.

5. (almost) all scenes where he's just a giant menace to infrastructure and important landmarks.

Like the fact that he destroyed the Sydney opera house is just such a casual by-note, we don't even talk about that one. It's just how it goes, you know? The only let-down is that he literally went to France without taking down the Eiffel-Tower in DOFP? A giant metal structure? This is a serious oversight by the writers and really cheapens the whole movie-going experience. 2/10.

#fandom #x men #marvel #xmcu #erik lehnsherr

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sotorubio · 2 years

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Idk if Lou's preference to go by a shortened version of her full name was supposed to have any significance regarding her gender identity. The writers didnt make it seem that way, only the fans. Maybe she just prefers Lou? It was constantin who firmly corrected the teacher in that one clip. And since we didn't meet anyone else who was in Lou's life before we meet her, it makes sense that Lou was the only name she was called by. I don't think there are layers to this season. It is what we see

so yeah i'm with u here, and to clarify since my last post was very rambly n i'm not sure if my opinion was clear, i also don't think that the writers had any intentions for lou to be anything but cis, i don't think her gender identity is supposed to be layered beyond being gnc. however when i was talking abt the significance & importance of her name i wasn't referring to her identity, i meant the significance for isi & the story.

it's most likely true that she just prefers the name lou and that's the extend of it to her but in a story abt a nonbinary person it has a different meaning and there's a reason why that moment happened. she's not real, she was written by writers who knew isi's story already, so it is not a coincidence or an accident that they casted a gnc actress for the role or that the writers decided to give her a feminine name but make her dislike it & want to go by smth else. The New Girl clip is the second of the whole season and isi makes the conscious decision to 1. disregard what the teacher called lou 2. greet her w the name she used for herself and 3. introduces herself as isi, following lou's example of introducing urself w the name u want, not the name that's written on some school records. the writing might be shitty and the gender storyline unexplored but this was an intentional moment, it is not an accident that the name isi introduces herself as is the same that she'll end up choosing for herself in the future when they've come to terms w their identity. so yes, for lou it's just a nickname she wants to go by - to isi however this is the first person she sees being unapologetically themselves and she's impressed which is significant to the character development that's abt to begin - to the story itself it's important bc it kicks off the gender storyline which, yeah, was lacking but it Was part of the season nonetheless and is closed to a full circle when isi chooses "isi" as her name, no longer just a nickname.

i also agree that the writers didn't make the name seem like it was that deep for lou (in fact i think the above paragraph explains what i think the writers used it for instead) and it was more abt the fans' speculation at that point. but i do want to make it clear that i actually find the fans' reaction/speculation completely reasonable in this case. this isn't one of those instances where fans of a show just hardcore project on to a character and then get upset when their own headcanons aren't canon. at this point of the season (episode one) we still believed s7 had potential to live up to s5 and s6, we still were watching w the promise of a storyline abt gender identity, we had no reason to expect the season to be the trash fire it was. so i think it's perfectly logical to see that they've introduced a new character who's gnc and prefers another name over their birth name (even inspires isi the actual nonbinary character to also use another name in introduction) and assume that they're going to be the nonbinary role model/mentor of the season since we still thought that was going to be a big part of the season.

but yeah i guess now that we have... waited and seen... what the season rly is abt we can conclude that that moment in ep 1 clip 2 served the narrative and isi's gender journey, not the characterisation or story of lou. and to bring it all back to the topic of the credits, them still including lou's full name and "lou" just as a nickname probably wouldn't bother her the same way isi would be bothered if they had for some reason deadnamed her. but considering that one of the messages the season is trying to send is stuff like "u can be who u want to be and no one else's opinion matters/choose who u wanna be" it's kind of ironic that they still included the name lou herself chooses not to use 🤷‍♀️ but i think the previous anon themselves said that it was just a small detail n i'm not like offended by it either, but i guess this is just further explanation of why i found it strange/what significance lou's presence has in the season (bc believe it or not as much as ppl seem to hate her she enables like 50% of the gender identity content aka the only good part of the season)

#inbox #anon #druck #so tldr i agree w u but also i think even tho the writers wrote a surface level season this is still a complex topic

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

COMING HOME

Jackson “Jax” Teller x Reader

Anon #1 asked: Jax teller x reader a smuuuuttttttt one pleaseeeee

Anon #2 asked: Oh yay! Bc I really wanted to request something, although if you're not comfortable writing it I totally understand. I wanted to request Jax Teller x reader where the reader is being mistreated (how ever ur comfortable writing that) by a boyfriend and she escapes to the club house where Jax is there late one night, and he ends up taking care of her and comforting her. She tells him she broke things off & he ends up telling her how he feels and it's really fluffy? Or some variation of this.

Warnings: NSFW, smut.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author comments: First time writing for Jax and I don't know what the fuck I did. The story of my life. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @minnicelli ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

When you want to realize, you're stopping dead the wheels of the car in front of the Teller Morrow workshop. Your eyes are filled with tears, running down your cheeks and getting mixed with the blood on your face. It hurts a lot, even the smallest movement you make with your face. There's a gap under your left eye, product of a hit that Larry gave you with one of his golden rings. He also broke your lower lip by a similar punch. You know that tomorrow it's going to be worst. But you can't handle it anymore. Every night is the same shit. Alcohol, drugs and take out his anger with you.

The main door of the clubhouse gets opened. You stand close to your car, with a hand supported on the hood. Your cry stops for a second, watching Jax giving some slow steps towards you somewhat confused. When he notices the blood, he runs faster than never almost colliding with your body. Cupping your cheeks into his hands, the man has a quick look of your face, clicking his tongue before taking off his jacket to place it on your shoulders. You haven't noticed that you're wearing nothing but a long shirt. No pants, no shoes. Nothing. Jax lifts you up between his arms, letting you get a little relaxed knowing that you're already safe.

“What happened?” He asks without looking at you, and his jaw tightening.

You just shrug your shoulders in silence, while he leaves you over his bed. You're not trying to protect your boyfriend, you don't want to see him again after all the pain he provoked you. But seems pretty obvious what happened and why you ran away from your house. Jax have always been so kind and gentle with you, that you thought he was the one who could protect you. You met him almost six years ago, just by a coincidence, and you started to be friends since the first moment you impressed him talking about his bike. And of course, he never liked Larry, knowing the piece of trash he is.

“I'm sor—sorry. I didn't know whe—where to go”.

“Home. You're at home, okay?” He replies, leaning towards the mattress with a knee nailed in to leave a kiss on your forehead. “I'll be back in a second, don' move”.

You simply nod, trying to clean your tears and staining the back of your hands with some blood. Not much after, he comes back from the bathroom carrying some cotton, alcohol and stitches to fix you up. It hurts. The hydrogen peroxide in contact with your skin itches too much. And you're ashamed because of Jax is seeing you falling into pieces, even when he warned you about that guy and what he could do.

“I will leave by morning. Just… please, let me stay tonight”. You beg desperate, pulling away from him your gaze as soon as he finishes of putting the stitches.

“You can stay here all the time you need. There are enough empty dorms. And I will take care of you, so Samcro will too”. Lifting up your face by two fingers under your chin, he forces you to look at him. “I'm gonna give you some clothes, so you can take a shower, okay?”

Helping you to get up from his bed, Jax lets you go barely a few seconds. Enough time to find another shirt and a pair of sweatpants. You take it from his hands, almost caressing it ephemerally, before walk into the bathroom closing the door behind your steps. The warm water finally relax your body, falling all around you from your hair to your toes. You know that the nightmare has ended and that your, now, ex-boyfriend is not going to bother you anymore. Although you can't help but feel somewhat restless, wrapping your body with a towel and sitting on the toilet, having a deep, deep breath.

When you're ready, wearing the clothes that Jax gave you and having a last look in the mirror of your bruised face, you walk out of the bathroom. The man hangs up a call before you can hear anything he's talking about.

“Better?”

“Yes… Thank you”.

“This has to end, (Y/N)”.

You nod licking your lips, standing up close to the bed.

“Tomorrow Chibs, Happy and I will go with you to pick up your things. You can stay here, if you feel safe”. He sentences, knowing that you don't have any option, even if it's the best one. “I can't… see you again like that”.

“I'm sorry, Jax…” You say again, sitting slowly by his side.

“I'm being serious”.

“I know”.

“I told you”.

Seems like he's getting desperate, rubbing his face with both hands and pulling away the short hair back to his nape. You can't help but hug him, wrapping his shoulders with both arms as you sink your face on his neck. It feels good. His smell is enough to make you lost all the fears that were running through your body, knowing that everything is going to get better.

“That asshole doesn't deserve you. You're much more than a one-night-stand. You have to know it”. He mutters holding you a little more tightly.

“Ja—”

Before you can say anything else, not even a word, he lifts up your chin colliding your lips with his. Your heart jumps, racing faster than you could think. And it takes you some seconds to react, but you kiss him back. Slowly. So slowly, enjoying the taste of beer and cigars, while his nervous hands holds your hips wanting you closer if it's possible. When his tongue finds yours looks like an explosion inside your mouth. You were desiring it since you met him, and seems like he was feeling the same way.

“Stay with me”.

One of his hands cups your cheek, tangling the tiptoes in some bristles close to you ear. His nose touching yours, eyes closed, drinking each other's breaths.

“I want you to stay with me, lemme' make it up to you”.

The mutter colliding in your lips makes you nod in silence. Running down his callous hands by your sides, Jax lifts up the Reaper Crew shirt to throw it somewhere, enjoying the views of your bristling nipples calling him. He leans forward to them catching one between his lips and the other with two fingers. One being bitten, the other being pinched. And a soft moan growing in your mouth. He knows exactly what to do, wetting it with his saliva and touring your skin with the tip of his tongue. His free hand travels down right to the waistband of your sweatpants, going under it to lightly touch your beaten clit needed for any kind of caresses. For Jax feels so good find you so wet, only for him. Something that he has been wanting so fucking bad since a long time ago. He curves his finger inside your pussy, slowly, trying to learn every single inch of it and its tightness.

Your hips moving unconsciously looking for more friction when you feel how he is getting harder every second you're on top of him, gasping and begging for more whispering. After taking off his shirt, the man bites your lower lip, pulling away his finger from you just to make you lay down above the mattress. He finally undresses you, being exposed to his blue eyes getting darker and watching how he licks his lips.

“Touch you as I would do it”.

You don't say nothing, opening your legs for the SOA' president and placing them to both sides of his body kneeled on the bed. He's going to remember it his whole life, looking how he follows every move your right hand does. It goes down by your stomach before continuing for the pelvis. You can feel the heat that emanates from your thighs, when you dig a finger in your pussy. Yes, it's wetted like never before. And you start to jerk yourself off, maintaining his lustful gaze, somewhat faster than he did before. The first moan appears when you see him rubbing the lump on his crotch, so needed to feel it inside you.

“Fuck, Jackson…”

“You like it?”

“Yes… Yes…” You try to nod, going a little bit deeper, almost arching your back. “Can you… Can you… Hm… I want a second finger, please…”

“You got it, baby”. He answers hardening his tone.

And you step in another one, containing yourself of gasping too loud, not knowing if someone else is in the clubhouse. You pound your hot pussy imagining that is his cock, spreading more your legs to let Jax sees how much you want him. Your palm almost hitting your entrance, intensifying the uncontrollably sounds your vocals chords utter. You want a third one and a fourth one thrusting you, to compensate that it's not his hand, nor his dick, burning in pleasure and desire.

Jax frees himself of the jeans, showing you that huge erection with some veins marked in, making your mouth watering by imagine how it could feel pressing it to your throat and filling you completely till drown you. His long fingers moving his own sensitive skin from top to bottom, as fast as you're fingering your pussy.

“Put a third one, baby”. He asks you licking his lower lip, not being able to raise the look of your hand.

You obey as the good girl you are, screaming out his name when you push it harder into you. You can't help but intensify the erratic move, provoking him to do the same. You're about to come, squeezing your legs over the sheets, when the older grabs your forearm to pull it away making you growl somewhat upset.

“Lemme' taste you”.

You can't talk. You just nod in silence, watching how he lies down between your legs, putting his arms under them but nailing his hands on your abdomen. His tongue goes slow from your back entrance to the other, tasting and drinking your fluids until he reach your swollen clit. His beard gives you some tickles every time it touches your thighs. Jax gently bite that sensitive part of your body, tangling your wetted fingers in the blonde bristles.

“Cum in my mouth, (Y/N)”

Even if it's a petition, it finally sounds like a command, thrusting two fingers decorated by two gold rings under his tongue. Into you.

“Fuck, Jax!” You cry out, pushing his face closer among your legs.

His tongue feels delicious, moving so fast around your entrance that you can't handle it for much more, while his fingers completes the next level of pleasure you have never felt before. Arching your back at the exact moment your anatomy shakes because of his mouth, he presses his nose against your skin touring your pussy to taste your cum. He can assure that he has never tried something better.

And the man doesn't let you any time to recover yourself, when he's already helping you to sit up.

“All in fours, my love”. He whispers close to your lips, before leaving a smooth kiss on them.

You do, turning your body to support your weight on your palms and knees. Chest resting above the pillow, spreaded legs and waist raised up. Positioning his body not fully naked among your thighs, Jax guides his dick all over your ass and pussy to tease you a little. You can hear the sound of a spittle, feeling it colliding to your entrances, and the saliva running down to the bed, knowing he's gonna fuck you without having to ask for it.

So he does. Nailing his hands on your hips almost hurting you, he digs his cock among your folds, making you scream with broken voice. Far away stayed the slow moves to make you feel loved, pounding you so hard that the headboard collides with the wall. Your moans getting tangled with his guttural growls wandering around the dorm. His lower abdomen hitting your ass once and again, resting your forehead on the pillow, as he goes deep into it. You want more. You couldn't be tired of his thrusts, being satisfied for the first time in years.

Jax is so big. More than he wants to hide under his typical jeans. And it feel so good when you find yourself close to the edge again. The orgasm finds you some hard pounds after, crying loud his full name and making him smirk proud of it.

“I want to cum in that delicious mouth yours, baby… Can I, uh?”

It's pretty fun how he has been giving you orders the whole time, to now ask you for something. How could you even say ‘no’? You raise a hand back to his chest, making him know that you want it too. Quickly, Jax pulls out his throbbing erection, jacking himself off while you lie on your back and he practically sits on your breasts. Taking your nape with his free hand, he lifts up your head until his red glans is above your open lips ready to receive his cum. You step out your tongue at the moment he finally fills your mouth with his hot seed, right to your throat. Jax has to slightly lean his neck back, cursing himself for not being able to see your face. But he does when you swallow his juices, before sucking his cock. Stealing him a loud moan, you press your wall with his glans, tasting the most sweet than bitter fluids on it, licking his skin with your tongue and wetting it with your saliva.

“Good girl, take it all”.

Leaving it there until an arcade appears, you feel one of his hands touching your pussy again, soaking it with your jizz before lying by your side. Then, he brings his fingers to your mouth, enjoying the way you have to lick them so calm and slow that you could make him fall into the ecstasy again. His lips finds yours, with that mix of alcohol and your delicious cums on your tongues.

Jax takes the advantage of get full undressed, before getting comfy close to you, with tired and short kisses traveling all around your face.

“Will you lemme take care of you?”

You nod in silence, trying to catch back your breathe and placing a shaky leg surrounding his waist. He caresses it with his right hand, putting the left arm under your neck to hold you closer.

“I love you, (Y/N)”. He mutters into your lips, drawing a goofy smile on the corner of your lips.

“I love you, Jax”.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jackson jax teller x reader #jackson teller #jackson teller x reader

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

semaphore but tastier // cedric diggory

Summary: the reader is Cedric’s best friend and they can read him like an open book

Request: hi! can i request a cedric diggory fic where the reader always bakes him smth and he feels better bc of it? 🥺 thank uu

A/N: I really hope this is okay because for some reason I am totally off my rhythm atm and it is also 1am so context also i love ced so more requests for him when i reopen are welcome

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: Triwizard tournament, injury

Anyone would think that you were conditioning him. For what, exactly, you couldn’t say, but you really couldn’t deny how pleased you were to see that handsome smile on his lips. Cedric was your best friend, though, so of course, you wanted to make him happy; it was only natural. And if you found a way to do that via a means as easy as just baking for him, then why for Merlin’s sake wouldn’t you? That was your story, if anyone asked, and that was what you were sticking to. It was nothing to do with any secret, personal, intimate feelings you had for him and that was that.

The first time, really, it’d been an accident; just a happy little coincidence. You just happened to be holding one of your mum’s home-baked Apple Danishes when you saw Ced looking positively tragic in the library, mourning over his Transfiguration essay. All it took to turn his frown upside down was an eye roll and a carefully deposited pastry in his lap - he was clearly a man of simple taste. It’d always been like that with the two of you, actually: you found that you could read him like a children’s book. A very simple children’s book with very few words and lots of very pretty pictures.

It was because of that that you always knew the one thing that never failed to make his day; one of your mum’s freshly-baked sweet treats. It had even worked when he broke up with his girlfriend, something you were not as ‘unnervingly pleased about’ as your friends had teased, thank you very much. Food was your go-to, though, and it always, always worked. Well, mostly always.

Cedric wasn’t upset often. Somehow, it was as if it went against his very nature to be anything but smiling, anything but quietly confident and wonderfully charming. So, when you strolled towards the Great Hall, spotting him and quickening your steps to fall in line with his steady gait, you were surprised to see him scowling.

“Hello,” you grinned, raising your eyebrows as he turned to you, the wrinkle between his eyebrows ironing out slightly at the sight of your smiling face.

You both stopped to wait for the staircase and his brows sunk again, his jaw clenching.

“Hi,” he said, exhaling out of his nose. You smirked, grabbing his chin gently and pushing his cheeks together, making a face. Your fingers lingered on his chiselled jaw.

“Why do you look so cross, Mr Grumpy Pants?” you asked, letting go of him as you started up the stairs.

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips, but you could tell that despite his amusement, there was still something bothering him, creasing his brow.

“Seriously, Ced,” you said, bumping his shoulder as you walked side-by-side down the corridor. “What’s up?”

He stopped short, looking down at the cobblestone floor. You took a moment to trail your eyes down his profile.

“Do you think I should put my name in the Goblet?”

Your eyes darted to meet his grey gaze, your mouth drying up at his words.

“For the Triwizard Tournament?” he said as if he needed to.

You frowned, opening your mouth before closing it again quickly.

“I might need more than a strudel for this one,” you said, trying to make him laugh. Despite your hesitance at the idea, you were glad to see him chuckle, shaking his head at your little joke.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement. The whole concept of Cedric, your Cedric, being part of the deadliest wizard competition in history was throwing you for a loop and he hadn’t even been selected yet. As you sat in the Great Hall, though, at the Halloween Feast with your heart in your throat and your eyes solidly on Cedric, some part of you knew that no one else could be the Hogwarts Champion. Not if he couldn’t.

“Do you think he’ll be picked?” your friend asked, leaning backwards to get a better look at the already selected Durmstrang and Beauxbatons champions. You didn’t need to ask who she meant.

“Yes,” you said, surprising yourself at how shaky your voice was. “I’m almost certain.”

“Oh, right, because he’s so handsome and brave and smart and kind and wonderful,” she mocked, her voice barely audible over the clapping.

You turned to her, making a face and pretending to mouth what she’d said, earning a slap on the arm. You were too busy squabbling to hear Dumbledore’s preamble, but you sure heard it when he read out the name of the first Hogwarts champion. At the time, though, you weren’t to know there’d be a second. The whole hall erupted at Cedric’s name and despite yourself, you found you were jumping to your feet, cheering and clapping along with everyone else, whistling and finding yourself swept along by the glee of it all, proud actually, of your best friend.

It wasn’t until the dragons that the true fear and nervousness sunk in. You were on autopilot as you crept around the Waiting Tent before the first task, your stomach in knots as you hoped somehow you would find him. Ever since he’d told you that Harry Potter had told him about the dragons, you’d been dreading the day, probably more scared for his safety than he was. You were far too distracted by the thought of something happening to him and the weight of the cream pie heavy in your palm to be completely focused. A rock twisted under your foot and you lost your balance. With a yelp, you ended up pushing through the tent, the fabric separating around your hands as you landed on the floor with a thud. You groaned, officially winded by your own clumsiness.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice said softly, riddled with confusion

You looked up to see Cedric, the man of the hour, with an amused smirk and raised eyebrows.

“You alright, Ced?” you asked casually as if you hadn’t just tripped straight through the wall. Shifting to get up, you were grateful to feel his hands on your arms as he helped you to your feet.

“Better now.”

He grinned at you for a moment, the yellow of his uniform tinting his skin perfectly. You blinked.

“I uh-“ you swallowed, blinking again. “I brought you this.”

You offered him the pastry in your outstretched palm, frowning at how sad it looked, slightly crushed and deformed by your little fall.

Opening your mouth to apologise, you squished the dessert in your grip, surprised as Cedric threw his arms around you, pulling you into him tightly. A grunt left your lips and if you weren’t already disorientated by the hug, the sound of a shutter and a bright camera flash made sure to do the trick. You both pulled away sharply and you would’ve fallen again had Cedric not placed his hand on your back to steady you.

“Wow,” a woman said shrilly. “Isn’t young love beautiful?”

You opened your mouth to correct her, but your words lodged in your throat when you noticed the floating quill beside her head. Your brain connected the dots and you found yourself taking an instant disliking to Rita Skeeter, a journalist Ced had complained about when he first got interviewed.

“That’ll make the front page if today goes poorly,” she mused, pursing her lips and tilting her head to the side. “And what a pretty page that’ll be, a couple like you.”

“Excuse me,” you said indignantly, immediately defensive. You didn’t get to finish before she was accosted by the Durmstrang champion, Krum.

“Sorry about that,” Ced said, his hand leaving your back as you turned to face him, his fingers skimming your arm distracting you entirely.

“Sorry about this,” you replied, lifting up the almost unrecognisable cream pie in your hand, the filling squeezing into the plastic bag around it.

“Don’t be, I think it has a certain charm.”

“I’ll give it to you now in case-“ Your voice broke.

“Hey,” he said, cupping your elbow gently. “I’ll be fine.”

Your vision blurred with tears and even his fingertips brushing your cheek lightly couldn’t salvage the sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Do you not trust me?” he asked a playful grin on his lips. You glared through your tears, pushing against his chest softly.

“You know I do.”

“Then you know that I’ll be fine. It’s just a dragon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

You inhaled, but he’d known you long enough to know the lengthy list of your response and insisted on stopping it in its tracks.

“It’ll be okay. Besides, I have to eat this…” he paused, frowning at the decimated pastry in your hand.

“It was a cream pie.”

“Ah.”

“Champions!” Dumbledore yelled, thundering into the tent and reminding you that you definitely were not supposed to be there. You looked at Cedric as he turned back to you and it was clear that you both reluctantly knew that you had to leave. You stared at him for a moment, brows drawn together, before you shoved the bag you held into his hand and gave it a squeeze. Leaning up, you pecked him on the cheek and immediately stepped away, not quite ready to deal with the aftermath of that particular decision.

“Please be safe, Ced.”

True to his word, he was okay. You’d almost had a heart attack when the Swedish Short-Snout got close to him, but you were beyond happy to see him in the Hufflepuff Common Room, sitting like a king with a mushed-up cream pie in his grasp. You were not at all impressed to see the burn on his face, though, and you were in half a mind to chew him out over it until he spotted you across the room. Immediately, he was stalking over to you and you found yourself doing the same, rushing towards him. You met halfway, throwing your arms around his neck and burrowing your head into his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

“I told you I’d be okay,” he whispered, his free hand rubbing gently up and down your back so lightly you thought you might faint.

He waited until you were there to open the egg and you definitely wished he hadn’t when a horrible screeching noise filled the air. The days that followed as he tried to figure out the contraption, you realised that the Triwizard Tournament had taken over your entire life. For months, what would happen next and more importantly, Ced’s safety had become your first priority and undeniably, that thought scared you. You listened dutifully, as a good friend should when he told you about the advice from Professor Moody to open the golden egg underwater, or when he talked about Harry or the next task, but anyone could tell you were distracted as you tried to imagine what you would do if anything happened to him. Your mind ran away with ideas of something happening to him with you having never told him how you actually felt.

“So,” Cedric said, elbowing you and breaking you out of your reverie one lunchtime. You’d imagined him a lot in the recent days and as you turned to him, your heart stopped a little to see his face in person, as handsome as ever.

“Why are you being strange?”

“I’m not being strange,” you said, though it came out more like a question.

“So, why have you been staring into the distance for the last fifteen minutes, then?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and biting into an apple.

You felt heat rush to your face and you looked down, trying to hide.

“At first I thought you just wanted to let me down gently.”

“Gently about what?”

You shoved the food on your plate around with your fork, desperately unhungry.

“The Yule Ball.”

“What about it?” you asked, frowning as Ced leant over your forearm and placed a strange looking bun on the table in front of you.

“I want you to go with me,” he said softly, his eyes nervous as you made eye contact. Why on Earth would Ced be nervous, you thought, assuming you were mistaken.

“You want to go with me?”

You’d been examining the bun closely when you looked up at him, your fingertips sinking into the delicate white icing as you froze. You couldn’t quite keep up with what was happening and you found yourself blinking far too much, your chest tightening in the process.

“You don’t have to-“

“Don’t you want to go with Cho Chang? Or that Granger girl? Or-“

“Why are trying to talk me out of asking you?”

You looked down, desperately aware of his eyes on you as you peeled your fingers from the sticky icing.

“What’s this?” you asked, nodding to it.

“Something to sweeten the deal,” he said and you could hear the distinct smile in his voice. “Also, you looked sad and you always bake me things with I’m sad.”

“Did you bake this?” you turned to him, frowning, the sound of your heartbeat growing louder in your ears.

“No,” he scoffed, shaking his head and taking another bite of his apple. “I’m just very nice to the house-elves.”

You smiled, huffing a laugh at his pleased expression.

“I don’t think I can go with you, Ced,” you admitted, swallowing gruffly and avoiding his eyes. “To the ball.”

“Why not?”

His voice was small and you wish you hadn’t known him well enough to hear the hurt in it.

“Because to you, it would just be as friends.” You paused, an odd regretful relief flooding through you. “And I like you way more than a friend should.”

“I’m not asking you as a friend,” he said.

You frowned, your eyes lifting up and to the side, before you turned to face him, surprised to see him quietly cocky and not at all like you’d ruined his life by admitting your feelings, as you’d expected you would.

“As a best friend?” you asked, your voice unmistakably hopeful.

You watched a smirk play on his lips and a mischievous glint sparkle in his eye and something you’d never felt before stirred in your chest. He finally broke eye contact, shaking his head and looking down.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

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