#(does this make any sense voice) does this make. ANY sense at all
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Who Needs Heaven? : The Drop-In
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason meets his daughters
warnings: it’s not specific if the kids are bio or adopted — this probably doesn’t make sense on multiple fronts but i DON’T CARE
see for: the vibes
His body jolts like he’s snapping out of sleep. The first thing he processes is loud conversations echoing, the sound of young girls talking over each other. He surveys over a book in his hands that he’s never heard of, though it’s opened more than halfway through and considerably worn. He drops the book to the side, coming to a stand and scanning over the environment.
He looks around the adorned living room, taking in details rapidly. He doesn’t recognize the house he’s in but he can tell it’s somewhere he definitely does not belong. The room is filled with books on shelves and picture frames are littered in every free spot in between. The lights are warm and the furniture is colorful with pillows and blankets strewn all over. It’s a stark contrast to the refined stoic Manor he’s so used to; there’s a distinct feeling of homeliness and warmth that seeps through the walls.
He creeps into the front entryway to the house as quietly as he can, peering up the staircase to the landing above for any signs of familiarity or danger. From his right, a girl comes darting into the space, running face first into Jason. He immediately reaches out to steady her but she shows no sign of disruption. She makes a point of holding the wrapped popsicle in her hand away, keeping it safe. She blinks up at him before taking off past him, calling out, “Sorry, dad!”
Dad?
“Anna, I swear to God—” Another girl of similar age runs past, paying him no mind.
He gapes after her, thoroughly confused. Where the hell is he?
“Daddy?” He turns around and looks down to a younger girl who looks about six at most. She stares up at him with wide eyes and freckled cheeks. “Are you okay?”
He can’t think.
This isn’t…this can’t be real. It can’t be. This is a dream. He got knocked out. He’s hallucinating. He’s dying.
He tries to keep his breath steady as this little girl peers up at him with curious eyes. “Daddy?”
He opens his mouth, struggling to find words, let alone get them out. “Where…where’s your mom?” He can barely make out his own voice.
“She’s in your room,” she tells him, looking up the stairs.
He treds up the stairs slowly, the chatter downstairs barely getting any quieter. The second floor seems deserted in terms of the presence of children. If, if this were real (or more likely, a dream) you’ll be here somewhere. There’s no scenario where he’d ever imagine a life in a big house with a big family without you—subconsciously or otherwise.
Several doors line the wide hallway, most of them open. He peers in the room closest to the top of the staircase, finding a heartily decorated bedroom with two twin beds. Polaroids and movie posters litter the walls and clothes are strewn across on top of the bed covers and in a few small piles on the floor. An orange lava lamp illuminates the room from a desk, shining off the glossy cover of magazines. Above, sports medals dangle off the wall against a white board, a scribbled on game of hangman midway through. A full-length mirror covered in stickers along the edges reflects a bookshelf across the room, dozens of books stuffed on each shelf. He blinks vacantly, pulling back from the doorway and continuing on.
He continues on down the right side of the hallway, passing up a bathroom and a closet before peering into the next room. It also has two beds, but it’s filled with remnants of young children. A small table with a tea set laid out on top sits in the middle of the room with various princess dresses draped across the short chairs. Pink bed sheets and butterfly-filled curtains joined by toy cars lined against the wall and strings of pink starry lights hanging from the ceiling. Both beds have stuffed animals arranged in thoughtful piles. It takes Jason a moment to notice the tattered, worn elephant with the green polka dot tie on the bed with the Cinderella comforter. Pickles. It was his when he was a kid. It’s placed delicately at the top of the pile, like he’s the king of the crop. A grand dollhouse sticks out against one of the walls, the dolls all lying asleep in their makeshift beds. Fluffy bubblegum and fuschia rugs scatter the floor just enough that you could jump across the room without ever touching the hardwood.
He turns to the last room, a door directly across that’s just cracked open. He can hear light music coming from inside and the almost inaudible shuffle of movement. He pushes the door open cautiously and takes in the sight of a woman, back to the door, folding laundry on the bed. He doesn’t even need to see your whole figure to know that it’s you.
“Sweetheart?” He sounds like he’s out of breath.
“Yeah?” You turn around with your same kind eyes and gentle disposition. You look older, not much older but your face is more mature. You even hold yourself a little differently. You quickly notice the way he scans you with a look of bewilderment on his face and jump into concern. “What’s wrong?” You drop the shirt that you’re folding on the bed, approaching him with soft steps. Everything feels fuzzy.
“This—this is…” His voice seems far away, this body feels further. “This isn’t real…”
“What? Jay, what are you talking about?” You’re so genuinely concerned about him it makes his heart hurt and does nothing to help clear his head.
His breathing starts to stutter and his eyes can’t pick something to focus on. Everything is telling him that this is a false sense of security, he’s not safe, you’re not safe, everything’s wrong—
“Woah, hey, hey. It’s okay.” You take his face in your hands the way you know tends to ground him. “Catch me up.”
He tries to focus on the sliding clasp of the necklace around your neck. “I…I think this is…” He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up only to wake up in a few seconds and find that it was all pretend. Instead, he’ll settle for, “...This hasn’t happened…”
You frown at that, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”
He breathes out heavy, “I think I’m dreaming.”
“What are you dreaming of?” You walk along this train of thought with him, though he has no idea why you would entertain it. This really must be pretend.
“The future…this is…is this the future?” He’s whispering, he’s not even sure if he’s asking you or himself or maybe even God.
You’re quiet for a minute before you speak again. “Oh,” you say contemplatively, not nearly as alarmed as you should be. You should probably be calling him crazy, right? “This is—you told me about this. Yeah, it had something to do with that clock guy—”
He blinks a few times, “The Clock King?” That does sound…familiar. Was he—he was with Bruce wasn’t he? Or maybe Dick. Both?
You nod, “Yeah, yeah. You said you ‘time traveled’ for a minute...but that was in, like…”
He fills in the blank with the year as he remembers it and your eyes go wide. “Well, this would be a bit of a surprise then.”
“We have kids?”
You laugh, brushing his hair back gently, “Yes. Yes, we definitely do. Five girls.”
“Five?” He breathes.
“Yeah. Wasn’t the plan but…” you shrug easily, “Here we are.”
He barely stops his next question from coming out of his mouth and replaces it. “Is this something I should be hearing?”
“What?” You tilt your head for a second before realization flashes across your face. “Oh, you don’t end up remembering any of this.” You shrug, mouth scrunched up to the side, “So why not?”
He does really want to hear about them. “Please.” He whispers faintly.
You nod reposefully, “Okay, well…” you pause, eyes on the ceiling. “Oh, wait.” You dart over to the bookshelf against the wall and pull a book from the second shelf from the top, a large pink photo album.
You shuffle back, guiding him to the bed and sitting thigh to thigh with him and placing the album on your laps. You flip it open to the first page, which displays an array of photos of who must be his daughter.
“This is Mia—Miriam—she’s the oldest. She’s thirteen now, she’s very smart and a sort of a perfectionist. Really a perfectionist.” A couple of her baby pictures were taken in your apartment and it makes his heart absolutely melt to see you as he left you, holding a baby—his baby—with a glowing smile on your face. There’s another photo of her, kindergarten aged, dressed up as Spoiler for halloween. One shows her on a bike with shimmery handlebar streams, Jason holding her steady as she learns. He’s wearing the brightest smile he’s ever seen on his own face.
“Then there’s the twins,” you continue, flipping to the next page. You laugh when his breath hitches at that. “I know. It’s not as scary as it sounds. Well, not now that they’re older. Ryan and Anna.” You point to them as you say their names, and he recognizes them quickly as the two girls that had run past the stairs. The twins look identical, the only discernible difference found in that Ryan is grinning in every picture with a glint in her eyes and Anna nearly always has a stoic look on her face.
“Ryan is her father’s daughter. She thinks she’s very clever and even more funny, and she is but don’t tell her that, it goes straight to her head.”
There’s a picture that has to be a couple of years old by now of the two of them dressed in what looks like brand new soccer gear. Another depicts one of them chasing Tim with a firework sparkler at dusk. He sees one of Ryan covered in dirt and tiny cuts, smiling big, helmet crooked on her head.
“Anna’s a happy kid, she is. Don’t let her attitude trick you—she just likes to keep her feelings to herself.” Anna’s pictures remind him of Damian in some ways. The very intentional lack of a smile but the happiness still seeps through anyways. One of her pictures has her cuddling with two rottweiler puppies in classic Damian style. Another one shows her a bit older, on Jason’s shoulders, surveying the land.
You turn to the next page, “And Laine, uh, Elaine,” you smile, “She’s a bit eccentric. She lives in her own world but she’ll bring you into it with her. She likes magic and glitter and offbeat things.” Laine’s pictures leave a particular warmth in his heart. She has the absolute widest smile and the brightest eyes he’s ever seen. One photo shows her having a picnic with several stuffed animals, another has her drawing a rainbow with sidewalk chalk. One picture towards the bottom of the page grabs his eye, one of Laine happily braiding Cass’ short hair at what appears to be the Manor.
“And then the little one is Aurora—Rory,” You turn to a page full of pictures of the wide-eyed girl, who has the sweetest baby face. He can tell from the pictures alone that she has your personality. You point to a picture of her giggling with bubbles all in her hair as you explain, “She’s still small but she has a big heart and a very sensitive soul already.” Jason’s practically staring a hole in the picture of Rory as a newborn in the hospital, held delicately by Bruce.
You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he processes quietly, letting him take his time.
“They’re happy?” He asks in a whisper.
“We’re happy.” You say affirmingly. He looks you in the eyes and you see a specific vulnerability in his that you haven’t seen in a long time. “You are a good dad, Jay.”
He’s still surprised that you can read him like a book, even though at this point you’d have been together for at least fifteen-some years. His eyes burn and he’s not sure he can keep it together. But you dig the knife in all the same, “They love you. A lot. We couldn’t live without you.”
You flip through until you find a page later in the book, plopping it back open fully. The first picture he takes note of shows him outside with picked flowers scattered in his hair wherever they’ll stay put, Laine and Rory trying to straighten them out. Another is of Anna hesitantly feeding a horse an apple, Jason crouched next to her, reassuring her. On the other page, Rory is mid-air being thrown into an absolutely massive leaf pile, glee adorning her face. He turns the page to find one of the girls with a red hoodie pulled over her head and a makeshift mask made from a red plastic plate with holes cut out for the eyes. One has Mia resting against his back, passed out, as he helps Ryan tie off a friendship bracelet on her wrist.
This isn’t—he doesn’t deserve this. This can’t be true, this is more than a happy ending and he’d never even expected you to love him this long, let alone give him the world and then some. He stares at the page for a while, trying to burn every detail into his head.
You tear your gaze away from his face to glance at the clock on the side table, muttering, “Oh shit. Hang on.”
His eyes follow you as you stand from the bed and walk across the room to the door, cracking it open a few inches before shouting out, “Bed!”
There’s a brief delay before a clamor starts towards them, all five girls thumping up the stairs.
You turn back to him, heedfully, “You can stay in here if you want. They’re a little…a lot.” You say tentatively. Well, if there’s anything he’s accustomed to it’s big families with bigger personalities.
Jason lingers behind you as you enter the hallway, looking like a little kid in an unfamiliar place. Whatever conversations were going on downstairs have simply moved location, no urgency present whatsoever to continue on with the progression of the night. You’re trying to verbally corral them towards their respective bedrooms, but it’s a tough job with two clear headed parents on a good day.
He stands frozen in the midst of the clutter of them as they rattle off to you and to each other. He’s scared to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to upset or alarm them. But because he is their father, they don’t need him to do anything strange to realize that he’s being strange.
Ryan squints up at him, “What’s wrong with you?”
The question grabs Laine’s attention and she looks to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong with Dad?”
You shake your head, “Nothing’s—”
“He’s not having a stroke already, is he?” Anna faints, no alarm in her words. Mia thumps the back of her head for that with no returning acknowledgement given by Anna.
Ryan is looking at him like she’s sizing him up. Something you did not get a chance to tell him about Ryan is that she can smell blood in the water like a shark. So it’s not surprising to you that she picks up on Jason’s disoriented state.
“Father?” She calls out sweetly.
You sigh, “Ryan—”
“No, it’s okay. I want to ask dad specifically.” She turns him away from you with a smile. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she doesn’t need to. She’s an opportunist like that. “Could I have the last popsicle?”
Anna cuts in harshly, “You better n—”
“Hey Annie, few notes for ya,” Ryan says with widened eyes and a pointed finger, “One, you shouldn’t interrupt your father, it’s disrespectful,” Anna’s face contorts at that, and she’s about to bite back but she’s cut off quickly by Ryan’s dedication to dishing out her hypocritical sermon. “Two, you shouldn’t interrupt me because it’s potentially the single greatest sin you’ll ever—”
Alright, you gave her a chance to turn it around, she’s done now. “No, you’re all going to bed now and if you’re lucky that popsicle is still there when you get home from school tomorrow.” You tell Ryan with a pointed look. She gives you a half-hearted glare, absolutely nothing compared to her real one.
“Mom, you said—” Mia throws her hands up as she recounts a promise that you may or may not have given her, it’s anyone’s guess.
Then Anna starts up, “That’s not fair, I called—”
Rory pipes up from behind you. “We’re supposed to read our story first.”
You inhale sharply, turning to face her, “Oh—” you crouch down to her level, holding her waist. “How about I read it tonight, Rory?”
She frowns, “Daddy always reads it.”
Ryan taps on Jason’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Dad, listen,” she says lowly, like she’s trying to get him in on the deal of the century. “Anna doesn’t deserve it, she’s rooting for you to stroke out—”
You frown at Rory with repentance, “I know sweetheart, but—”
Laine looks quite contemplative as she announces, “It’s unholy to break tradition.”
You scrunch up your face and swivel your head to her, “What?”
This declaration does enough to break Ryan away from her scheme. She turns to her and says flatly, “You haven’t said anything that makes sense in like two weeks.”
Jason’s mind is going a mile a minute, trying to process the fifteen things that are going on all at once and take in the fact that these are his children. His daughters and they’re so loud and opinionated and bold and he loves it. He thinks this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. Hell, he’d take this over heaven a million times over.
“Mom. Mom!” Mia urges, “Can you help me?”
Your head stutters between your daughters, “I—yeah. Rory, just—”
“I can do it.” He says quietly.
“Yeah?” You look up at him, hopefully, genuinely delighted that he wants to jump into this mess without the twelve years of prep that you’re dependent on.
“Yeah.” He nods, determined and you and Rory smile up at him. Mia all but yanks you up from the floor, pulling you to her room and you can just barely make out Ryan’s hushed murmur of, “I’m getting the popsicle…”
Rory takes Jason’s hand, drowning her own in his. She leads him to the pink bedroom with all the toys, and climbs onto the unicorn bed, shoving all but a few of the stuffed animals onto the floor. Elaine follows close behind and does the same with her own bed, though the only one she keeps is Pickles.
He stands next to the bed a bit awkwardly as she pulls a book off the table next to her, the length of the book easily taking up half her arms. It takes her looking up at him expectantly for him to get the hint, shuffling to squeeze in next to her on the small bed.
She hands him the book and he regards it with a smile. Little Women. He pauses as he starts to open it, “Where, um…where did we leave off?”
She looks at him funny, smiling like he’s messing with her. She flips the book open a little more than halfway through and stops on chapter fifteen. She presses her pointer finger down to the start of the chapter with a thump. “Right here.”
Jason takes a steadying breath and begins reading in the same soft voice he reads to you in, and it seems to appease both girls. He’s not processing what he’s saying as he sits there with his littlest daughter tucked into his side and hanging on to every last word. He can feel her breathing in and out softly and it all feels so surreal now.
““I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.” Rory giggles as Laine gasps, and Jason can feel the rhythm of his heart fluttering in a new way.
He reads to the end of the chapter and returns the book to its place on the side table, and reluctantly pulls away from Rory, standing up again. He tucks her nicely, if not inexperienced, into the sheets and kisses her forehead. She immediately holds out her toy bear, silently requesting the same treatment for him. Jason kisses the bear too, happily. He does the same for Laine, taking particular note of the way she hugs Pickles to her chest tightly.
He starts towards the door, but is quickly put to a halt. “Wait,” Laine calls out. He turns back to her wide-eyed, terrified he did something wrong. “The lights,” she says, looking up to the ceiling at the dangling stars. Oh, right. She watches him skeptically as he innocently looks around for the switch, and Rory tilts her head at him, not sure what he’s playing at.
“It’s right there,” Rory points with a mildly sullen look to where the mechanism dangles near the outlet. Jason quickly flicks the lights on, the soft orange-pink glow of stars illuminating against the walls. Rory’s pleased enough and adjusts to get more comfortable in her bed.
Laine however, hisses out a, “Hey,” gesturing him towards her. He sidesteps the tea table and comes around to her side of the room, kneeling down by her bed attentively. She glances over at Rory before asking in a hushed voice, “Are you an alien?”
That, he wasn’t expecting. “...What?”
She shakes her head reassuringly, “It’s okay, I won’t tell. But um…I would like my dad back eventually please. If that’s okay.”
His breath stutters and he forces out an, “O—okay.”
She holds out her pinky and it takes him a second to register what she’s asking. He wordlessly pinky promises her and she smiles big, pleased with the agreement.
He stands again, feeling light headed as he heads for the door.
“Goodnight, Daddy,” Rory murmurs against the pillow, watching him leave.
His gaze flickers back and forth from them to make sure they like having the door closed, Rory watches him bemusedly and Laine nods at him slyly with a twinkle in her eyes. “Goodnight, Dad.”
“Goodnight,” He exhales, not as loud as he meant to. He clicks the door shut softly and there’s a warmth in his chest that he could get addicted to.
He wanders down the hall towards the sound of your voice, passing Anna and Ryan climbing under their covers and murmuring something to each other, half eaten popsicle in the ladders hand. He passes the staircase, peering his head into the next room over. His eyes immediately land on you and Mia stood in front of an armoire, shuffling through clothes having an exchange of considerative words.
Mia’s room is very neat and put together, everything is placed with much more intention than in the other girls rooms. Her room has more mellow colors too, largely white with soft shades of pastels throughout. There’s a desk with organized notebooks and multiple vases of flowers, with bundles of yarn placed nicely in a basket in the corner. A tall bookshelf is filled with fifty-some books with a violin case leaning up against it. Nail polishes rest beside a jewelry box on the side table next to her bed. She also has picture frames across the walls, some containing photos of flora, others of the family, and a few of what appears to be her own sketches.
“—worried it’s too showy, you know?”
You hum, “I don’t think so, I mean, not for picture day.”
Mia turns to Jason, shirt held up against her body. “What do you think?”
He takes a second to bounce back from the surprise of being asked the question, “I, uh…I like it.”
You smile at him as Mia faces you again, “Okay, so this with that flowy lilac skirt?”
“The lilac…yeah, that would be cute.”
She nods pleased, draping the shirt over the back of the armchair in the corner.
You and Jason head out of the room, closing the door on your way out so she can change into her pajamas.
“Goodnight!” she calls out through the crack in the door. You and Jason return it in sync, clicking the door closed. You hold his hand as you walk past the twins' open door, giving them the same sentiment with Jason’s own following quickly after. They call it out back, louder than necessary, and you close your bedroom door behind the two of you.
You rest against the door and he leans his head back against the wall next to you, glancing over at you. “I won’t remember any of this?” He seems dejected at the idea, not happy to have been handed the world and then having it swiped from his memory immediately after.
You consider it for a second, shaking your head, “I don’t think so.”
He’s quiet for a bit, thinking. “Do you have a marker?”
“A marker?” You look around casually, “Uh, yeah.” You unclip a sharpie from the mini calendar pinned against the wall, tossing it to him. You watch curiously as he holds his forearm out in front of him, popping the lid off with his mouth.
The light in the room starts to dim dramatically until his vision is completely dark. The pull of gravity on his body feels wrong and a pang of fire shoots against the side of his head.
“Hood.” He hears in the darkness, “Hood.” The commanding voice startles him awake once again. “Are you alright?”
He blinks up at Batman blearily, feeling like he’s just gotten hit over the head with a chair. “What…what—”
“The Clock King. He threw some sort of device at you. It knocked you out for a few minutes. Are you alright?”
He feels dizzy. “Uh…yeah.”
He cranes his head to glance over at where the Clock King is hunched over on the ground, handcuffed, inspecting the cartridge of his device closely. “Damn it, I knew it wasn’t right. Meant to knock him into the past.” He tells Nightwing like it’s some common mistake they can bond over.
Nightwing moues at him “I don’t care?”
Knock him into the—did he go to the future? He can’t get his thoughts in order, let alone summon memories from the future. Frankly, it doesn’t matter that much to him right now—he’s sore and wants to just fall asleep next to you.
He sits up slowly, grimacing as the pain in his head sharpens for a moment. Batman clasps his hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “Can you stand?”
Hood grunts and pushes himself up, anchoring his weight against the ground. “Fuck. I’m going home.”
Batman says nothing to protest, instead joining Nightwing and pulling The Clock King up from the ground. Jason stumbles away towards his bike, thankful that he’s only a couple miles away from your apartment. Jesus, the future? You’re not going to believe that shit.
He climbs onto the bike with a groan, pushing up his sleeves as he prepares to start the bike. He doesn’t notice it until he revs it, but when he looks down at his left arm, he sees scribbled on his arm in sharpie:
WE’RE HAPPY
❤️ REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING ❤️
#jason todd loves his daughters#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd/reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd/you#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#red hood#batfam x you#batfam imagine#batfam fanfiction#batfam fanfic#batfam x reader
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BAMBI (l.hs)
lee heeseung x fem!reader. fluff (?) drabble. 928 words. inspired by bambi (baekhyun). detective! heeseung. mafia boss!reader.
for :: @okwonyo 's CELESTIAL BALLET event
warnings :: mentions of a gun, death, drugs, illegal activities, smoking etc.
!! please remember that this is a work of fiction, nothing is to be practiced or represents anyone in reality.
( FEEL IT LIKE TIMELY RAIN THAT SEEPS INTO MY DRY HEART )
walking through the dark alleys of the streets of his beloved country, lee heeseung, the only detective who carried out one man missions, was looking for a highly wanted drug dealer of the underworld.
information had it that the deal was about to happen in an abandoned railway tunnel, and so he reached the entrance of it. the tunnel was definitely not used since a long time, and it was absolutely stinky, a little damp even because of the pipeline running over it. the country's civil engineers were quite something.
he walked slowly, not to cause any trouble. there was nobody inside the tunnel, but he could sense an uninviting presence. there was nobody inside the tunnel, but he was careful not to make his presence known.
he approached a pillar which had '32' written on it, placing his black suitcase on the floor as it leaned onto the pillar. he adjusted his hat and leaned against the cold cement wall, pulling out a cigar.
he knew the smell of the smoke would cause trouble, but he couldn't care less. he had to face them in a few minutes anyway.
as he let out a puff of smoke, he heard shuffling at one corner of the tunnel. he dropped the cigar onto the muddy floor and crushed it dead with his shoe and he stepped towards the sound, slowly.
unconsciously, his hand reached to the back of his belt, wrapping his fingers around the grip of the pistol, his index curling onto the trigger.
he could hear incoherent sounds of a conversation, and could confirm that there were two parties involved, as he neared them.
they stood right behind a cement partition, against which he pressed himself, to get a clear hearing of what they were speaking about. eavesdropping wasn't a good thing but he had to do it.
there was a light emitting, from which he guessed was torch due to the rectilinear light path. it had a hint of red. strange, heeseung thought.
"what's with the torch? does little princess not have a phone to use a flashlight?" a low voice spoke, sounding sarcastic. princess?
"oh? didn't think you were such an imbecile to not know phones can be tracked." a female?
never in his lifetime heeseung thought he'd cross paths with a female drug dealer. who was she anyways?
his head pondered over multiple questions, sidetracking him from their conversation until he heard a gunshot ringing through his ears due to the close proximity of where he was standing.
lee heeseung was bewildered so as to the details of the attack. he heard hurried footsteps, but they weren't panicked ones. it seemed like a getaway shuffle.
he felt the woman walk towards him and he instantly pressed himself against the wall with all his might and he held his breath to go unnoticed.
however, the lady swiftly walked past him. she was wearing a red dress and her pretty feet mounted on pointed heels, a gun holster gracing her thigh, visible through the slit of her dress.
heeseung was taken aback by her presence, nevertheless he quietly looked behind the wall and found the limp, cold body of a man in his thirties.
taking a mental note of his features, heeseung followed the lady to the edge of the tunnel, as quietly as possible.
as he neared the end of it, he could hear the drizzle and could sense the petrichor. the lady tapped her ear, speaking into the bluetooth device which he didn't notice until now.
a motorbike pulled up right next to the track, she immediately stepped into the rain, taking a moment to inhale the fresh surroundings.
her red dress was starting to get tainted by droplets of water, turning it into a darker shade, her loose hair sticking to her bare shoulders.
she exhaled and turned around. and lee heeseung felt his world stop. he has never seen someone so beautiful. maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the red dress. maybe it was just her.
the raindrops sinked into her eyelashes, dripping past her cheeks and dropping on her collarbones. water slipped past her soft, red tinted lips, it made her smile.
lee heeseung was staring in awe. staring for too long that no secret detective should be staring at his target. no human in their proper senses would be staring at a murderer.
the gun holster at her thigh, contrasted her whole aura, if he ignored the fact that she had just killed someone. she looked too pleasant to be a part of the underworld.
she exhaled once again and turned around, hopping on the vehicle. and lee heeseung's breath paused as she turned her head around and met his eyes.
he held eye contact with her, not sure if he was challenging her or getting lost in her eyes.
her lips curled into a sinister smirk, which he didn't expect would form on such a pretty face, sending chills down his spine. she grabbed the helmet her driver handed to her, pulled it over her head. giving him one last look, she shut the tinted shield and the machine drove off, leaving heeseung in a swirling mixture of emotions.
did he just find love? or did he face his enemy? nevertheless, she smirked like she knew him inside out, like he would snap into nothing in her presence and like he had nothing over her.
but lee heeseung, was captivated and allured by her, in every way possible and was already dying to see her again.
perm taglist :: @pockettwinzz <3
#kayz's works!#okwonyo’s 🩰 ( 천상의 발레 )#enhypen#heeseung#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#lee heeseung#enha x reader#enha#enha fluff#enha imagines#enhypen heeseung#heeseung imagines#heeseung scenarios#heeseung x reader#heeseung fluff#heeseung smut#heeseung enhypen#heeseung enha
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ONE NIGHT STAND WITH JOOST🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭
-ˋˏ ༻ only stay with you one more night༺ ˎˊ-
𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋"so I cross my heart and I hope to die…that I’ll only stay with you one more night." - maroon 5𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋
Summary: Joost sees you at a party and immediately becomes head over heels. While alone he approaches you, things escalate, but maybe you both wanted to stay…
Note: I POSTED MY LAST POST LIKE 10 MINUTES AGO AND I ALREADY HAVE TWO REQUESTS, yall always come in clutch istg??! Anyways love yall, part two maaaaybe..?
Warnings: Slight fluff, SMUT!! Maybe some angst near the end (?)
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
You didn’t wanna go to this party, you knew you didn’t. You’d much rather stay home but after minutes of begging from your friends you groan and agree. Your friends clap excitedly and drag you to help with your makeup. You can’t lie, they did a pretty good job…you looked hot. You decided to put on your favorite dress becuase fuck it, why not. It didn’t look like you were trying too hard but it’s also not elegant and super fancy. It was perfect.
Soon after you all arrived your friends dragged you to get drinks, squealing and dancing as you stood back. You preferred people watching over dancing, you were the mom friend and looked over your friends. Especially since they didn’t seem to aware of their surroundings. As you were stood there you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes on you.
You look up and see him, a blond guy with a rocker style and piercing blue eyes. As you lock eyes he turns away, acting as if he didn’t pay any mind to you in the first place. You keep your eyes on him for a little, looking over him. He was cute, very cute. More than cute…he had a certain energy about him. You could normally tell which guys were trouble and which weren’t but he was so different. He had an energy that pulled you in and intoxicated your senses.
Your racing thoughts were cut off by the sound of your friend calling your name, calling you to the dance floor. You rolled your eyes playfully with a smile on your lips as you join your friends. Body swaying with theirs.
It didn’t take long for your friends to be absolutely wasted while you didn’t have any more then one drink. You called Ubers for all of them to make sure they got home safe and once you knew they were all good you leaned against the wall outside the club and took a breath of fresh air.
You started thinking of anything you wanted, finally having a time of peace. Before you heard a shuffling behind you. You turn your head to see the guy from before, cigarette between his lips and leaning on the same wall you were. A surprising comfortable silence settled between the both of you before it was broken by a low voice.
“Never seen you here before..” he speaks, a clear accent spilling from his lips. “Eh…I don’t come here often, I just got dragged here by my friends.” You say with a slight chuckle, looking at his side profile in awe. He really was the definition of beauty. His head stays still but his eyes look to you before returning at their original position.
He chuckles and it sends a shiver through your body, “got a staring problem or somthing, hm?” He says blowing the smoke from his cigarette into the air before tossing it to the side and stomping on it. His body turning to face you, “couldn’t keep my eyes off you lieverd, your one pretty girl you know that eh?” He smiled
His smile was so infectious that you found yourself smiling as well, “I could say the same for you…uh…” you say, realizing you don’t know his name. He catches on and utters, “Joost. And you.?” He says as you look at him with doe eyes that almost bring him to his knees
“Y/n…” you say softly feeling affected by him being so close, “y/n huh? Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He says with a cocky smirk, shuffling closer to you. You both weren’t drunk but it was clear you’d both had some drinks, giving you both liquid courage. Your heads face each other, eyes locked and lips close. Before both of you can even think you both rush forward into a heated kiss.
It’s breathy, grabbing at each other desperately as he pushing his weight against you holding your chin with one hand. “Mine” kiss “m-mine or-“ kiss “mine or yours liefje..?” He mutters between heated kisses, “m-mine..” you whine, feeling better about it being at your house over his.
After a Uber ride filed with sexual tension and heavy air you both burst through the front door, unable to keep y’all’s hands off each other. You lead him to your room, practically pulling each others clothes off like wild animals.
He lays you back on your bed gently and kisses from your neck down to your now exposed chest, you were both only covered by y’all’s underwear. He clips off your bra, showing love to both breasts as you run your hands through his hair moaning out. He kisses down your soft stomach untill he reaches where you needed him the most.
“J-Joost..please..” you whine out, squirming under his hot breath and teasing touch. A harsh slap to your thigh makes you throw your head back and whimper tears brimming in your eyes. He peppers soft kisses to where a pink hand mark was starting to form with a snicker.
He pulls off his boxers and pulls your underwear down as well. He kisses back up your body, pressing soft and loving kisses to your swollen lips. “Ready honey?” He asks softly, eyes looking at you with nothing but affection. You can only nod frantically making him chuckle.
He slowly slides into you with a groan, both of you throwing y’all’s heads back. He thrusts harshly into you, making your brain short circuit. His kisses to your body are the polar opposite to how his dick abuses your cunt making you see stars as you moan out his name.
A few minutes of sweet pleasure makes you whine as you grasp his hand tight, half lidded eyes looking into his. “J-Joost I-I’m…” you whimper as his dick hits just the right spot, knocking the words out of you. “Go on baby…fuck..go on” he groans as he lowers his head to kiss your head.
You both let go and ride out your high together, him letting out sweet words of praise as you let out soft moans and whimpers. He lifts his head to look at you with adoration, kissing your soft lips once more before going and getting a cloth to clean you both up.
The last you remember is snuggling up to his side and falling asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of soft fingers stroking your back gently…..
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
Your eyes open to the sound of the morning birds and the blinding light shining in through your window. You don’t feel warm anymore; no longer in his arms and alas alone in your bed. You lift your body out your bed, looking around for him.
Of course you knew this was a one night stand, both of you did. You knew it the moment his lips connected with yours. But some part of you wanted him to stay..the way he looked at you was not the way someone looked at another person they just wanted to fuck and be done with.
Little did you know, he felt the exact same. He woke up to the safe and comforting feeling of the weight of your head on his chest, but he knew he couldn’t stay. His mind felt plagued as he picked up his clothes that were scattered across your floor. He softly kissed your head before fighting all his instincts and closing your door, ordering an Uber home.
He hoped if he just left that he’d forget about you soon enough…
He didn’t.
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Sex and Feelings - Sam Monroe
Summary - Sam and you got into a heated argument that ended in tears and sex.
Warnings / Mentions - Fem!Reader, Insecure!Sam, mentions of drugs and other mental health issues, pet names used are baby, angel, and pretty girl/sweet girl, hurt comfort, small angst, makeup sex, sad sex, dacryphilia, both Sam and Reader are crying, oral (f receiving), Sam cums untouched, praise, Sam licks Reader's tears, creampie, squirting, NOT PROOF READ; SO PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE'S ANY MISTAKESSSS
A/N - I know I usually write GN!Reader, but I wanted to use certain affectionate terms like "pretty girl" and I haven't been able to think of a gender-neutral way yet...maybe just "pretty baby" or "pretty doll" Idk, send help fr...Also, does anyone have any idea how to avoid using Y/N in dialogue?
Requested - Yessir, right here
Word Count - 2197
Tag List - @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely
@yourenogoodforme @gallerygourmet @heartsforanakin @helendeath @ysrjune
@anisangeldust @catnipaddictt @ahano @itachicha @02ibiskywitt05
@espinathena-17 @lvrfay3
Gif by @sukugo
Tears flooded your eyes, and your senses went wild from the way your boyfriend was talking about himself and your relationship. Sam, your sweet yet devilish boyfriend, was pleading for you to break up with him.
"Sam, I just don't understand. I don't want to break up!" You tried over and over to reach out to him, but he only kept pulling away. His thoughts and mind are elsewhere. Sam had a hazy look in his eyes, one of fear and loneliness.
"Y/n, stop making this harder than it needs to be. I'm not good for you, and you fuckin' know it." Sam's exclamation caught you off guard. The aggressive use of language at the end makes you glow with anger. Your emotions are mixing in a pot, like ingredients. Some anger here, some fear there, some dread, and the final being your undying care for him.
"You can't possibly mean that! Sam, for the love of God, you are everything to me! I mean, yes, we all have our flaws, but I don't care!" Your voice echoed in the room. You had come over to his house in order to check in on him, wanting to hang out and watch a movie, only to see him getting high. Not the usual joint high, not pills, but he was in the middle of hanging himself in his closet when you walked into his room.
"Oh, fuck off; you don't mean that. You know just how bad I am for you; you just don't want to admit it. You never do!" He yelled at the end; you could tell he was starting to get emotional. As much as Sam loved you, he always struggled to believe that you actually liked him. It wasn't even fathomable for you to be in love with him.
It was like he was shutting down on you, but you didn't want to give him up. "Sammy, please...how do-- How do I fix this?" You took a deep breath, your nose sniffling from the stress on your mind and body.
Sam was silently crying, his face contorting into one of pain. "You can't; you just can't! You can't do anything about it; you're not the one who needs fixing!" He seethes, pacing around his messy room as he tries to sort out his thoughts.
He's such a mess. He's wearing a band tee, one that he cut the sleeves off of to create a make shift tank top. A studded belt with a pair of black jeans. A leather bracelet cuff was on his right wrist, while the bracelet you made for him hung around his left. Sam was messing with the bracelet in an attempt to calm down.
"You don't need to be fixed; you're not an object. You need someone who can be there for you, Sam! You need to actually talk about your feelings instead of bottling them up, and trust me, I know how hard that can be!" You gestured towards him, knowing that your choice of words might have been harsh and ironic since he was the one begging for you to leave him.
Sam clocked the irony, ignoring the meaning behind what you said and just shouting in a choked-up voice. "I'm trying!" His anger got the better of him as he pulled at the bracelet you made him. It wasn't all that, but it was important to him and to you. The matching one adorns your own wrist. The cheap material is a piece of elastic string with cute beads. The bracelet held some cute little charms that fit his style, along with a heart and your name. Your bracelet has your own personal aesthetic, and it has his name.
As he angrily tugged at the jewelry, it snapped. He threw what little of the beads his hand caught in your direction. You flinched as some of them flew toward you. Pain prickled at your heart when the beads clattered to the floor. Sam realized what he had done in his small fit of rage. He knew that if he hadn't hurt you before, he had now.
His eyes soften with a flash of sincerity as he stays quiet. Neither of you dared to speak. The anger having died out entirely. Sam slowly walked towards you, both of you having tears running messily down your cheeks. Sam's eyeliner was smudged and tracking down in streaks.
As he neared, you didn't move. Allowing him to embrace you in a hug. His hands were around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. His forehead slumped towards the floor as he nuzzled himself into the crook of your neck. You could feel the wetness brushing on your shoulder from his own crying. Your arms came up and wrapped around him. You both didn't have the words—nothing that could truly say you were sorry.
"Baby," Sam started, cutting himself off as he put together his thoughts. He felt uneasy as he tried to think of a way to apologize. A way to get you to forgive him for his outburst. He knew it wasn't your fault he felt this way, and he knew that he was just self-sabotaging another relationship.
Sam's brain finally formed an idea—the only way he could think of to say he was so fuckin' sorry.
"Baby, let me make it up to you..." Sam finalized it, and the both of you are still crying from the distress of the situation. You tried to pull away so you could look at him and listen to him, but he didn't let you. Confusion rippled through you when his grip on you tightened, tilting your head to the side as a result of your puzzlement. Which just made Sam's job so much easier as he began placing soft kisses on your neck. His mouth trailed up your throat as he sucked at your soft skin. You hummed in satisfaction at his affectionate behavior. Both Sam and you had clouded minds still as he kissed up your jaw, making his way to your swollen lips. Already red and puffy, bitten raw from your sobbing.
Sam just loved seeing you like this; he hated to say it, but you were so pretty when you cried, and you often thought the same thing about him. The way his face would screw together in pain, his eyes watery, and his skin looking red was the most beautiful sight in the world. One of Sam's hands snaked up to your face, cradling you into his palm. He could feel your cheekbone pressed against him, his thumb wiping the liquid dampening under your eye.
The kiss grew more heated; Sam wanted more of you. He wanted all of you, and that was part of the problem in the first place. He felt like he was too selfish with you. Sam prodded at your lower lip with his tongue, and you eagerly let him in. Loving the intimate and passionate way he invaded your mouth. Always wanting to taste you, he'd devour you if he could.
Sam moaned into the kiss. You weren't quite vocal yet. Your emotions are still running rampant, keeping you in a non-verbal-like state. Sam could feel himself getting hard, his hand on your waist slipping down momentarily to massage himself through his jeans. Something that was difficult, but he needed some kind of feeling down there. He was only kissing you, and it was driving him crazy. Sam only ever wanted to please you. Be there for you, but he always felt like he was letting you down. He desperately wanted to save you from himself. He was terrified of taking you down with him. So instead, he would go down on you.
Sam pushed you towards the bed, backing you up until your legs hit the edge, forcing you to sit down. Sam broke the kiss as he unzipped his jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off as he grabbed you by your ankles. He folded you in on yourself, keeping you stable as he pulled off your shorts down your legs, tossing them off god knows where into his room. Once you both were free from your bottoms, Sam kneeled in front of you.
He pulled you closer to him, a yelp escaping your plump lips. Sam didn't bother taking off your panties, opting to just push them to the side with how impatient he was getting. Just as Sam's face got closer to your cunt, he stopped, glancing up at you. His voice was low with need as he asked, "Okay with this pretty girl?" You hummed in approval, words still lacking from your brain and mouth. Sam wouldn't push you to answer today with words; he's already aware of how you react when sensitive.
He dipped his head back to your cunt, his finger caught your panties and pulled them to the side. He watched in amusement and desire when he saw what he'd claimed multiple times. He could tell you were already wet but didn't care as he spat his saliva on your exposed pussy. His hand that wasn't occupied with your underwear came up, sinking a finger in between your folds as he swiped up along your slit. Making sure that you were coated well. He pulled his middle finger back, sucking it clean, before resting his hand on your thigh, keeping it in place.
His tongue finally came into contact with your pretty pussy, licking up and gently sucking on your clit. He pressed kisses on your cunt, as he lapped at you hungrily. His tongue poking at your entrance. He moaned into you as his tongue fucked your little hole. Your little whines falling from your mouth were music to his ears, fueling him to get more aggressive and fasten his pace. His lips were swiping across your cunt as he sucked and kissed you. "Prettiest pussy in the fuckin' world, sweet girl."
Sam was shifting uncomfortably from his boner, trying to ignore it as he ate you out. Your little whines and whimpers turned into moans and shrieks of pleasure as he feasted on you. Acting as if he hadn't eaten for a week. He was plunging into you as if you were the air he needed. The knot in your stomach was unraveling, and he could feel it as your cunt fluttered around his tongue. He kept up with what he was doing, giving you exactly what you needed. The cord in your core broke as the most pornographic moan ripped from you, your legs shaking and clamping down around his head as he ate you out through your orgasm.
Sam whimpered at your reaction, getting off on the fact that he knew you were satisfied with him. "Shit- oh fuck!" Sam whined into your pussy, the vibrations overwhelming you as he came. His boxers were stained with the sticky fluid.
Sam finally moved out of your thighs, standing up and flipping you onto your stomach. He easily lifted your ass into the air, propping you up on your knees while your chest pressed into his sheets. He wasted no time as he freed himself from his briefs. Lining up with your sopping wet cunt as he pushed in. Sam threw his head back, a couple more of his tears sliding down his face and dripping onto the floor. He whined as you gasped into his pillows, not entirely letting you adjust to his size as he started moving. He wasn't being rough, but he was being fast. Your tears soaked into his bed, your mouth opening in pleasure as he fucked into you. Sam rammed into you, slapping noises heard throughout the room. "So good, angel, takin' me so well. This pussy was made for me, fuckkkk..." He drawled out.
Sam leaned to your back, enveloping your throat with his hand as he pulled you to him. His hips not slowing, but definitely hitting deeper than before. "My beautiful girl, only one meant for me. Always know just what I need." He whimpered into your ear; the airflow you were getting was slightly chopped off from his hand. The feeling was like ecstasy as he pounded into you. His praises drove you to the edge again. Sam licked your cheek, collecting the drying tears on his tongue. The flavor was salty, but he enjoyed it. His thrusts are growing sloppy from the overstimulating orgasm building. He made sure to hold off, wanting to keep your own white-hot pleasure going for as long as he could. Your pussy leaking as he pulled out. Juices spraying on his cock as he ran his tip throughout your folds, playing with the stream you were squirting. "Even your pussy is crying for me." Sam laughed through his emotion-filled voice. Once you stopped, he pushed back in, giving a couple more thrusts into you before stilling. Sam held onto you tightly as he came, thick ropes spurting into you.
"I'm taking back my demand; you can't break up with me now." Sam jokes as you both start coming down from your highs, wiping away the water weeping from his eyes.
#demieyesore#sam monroe x y/n#sam monroe x you#sam monroe fanfiction#sam monroe smut#sam monroe x reader#sam monroe imagine#sam monroe
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I HAVE ANOTHER idea… grins super wide.. (could also possibly be a prologue to the mom ellie rq I Sent a few days back) but but yk how Jackson has a daycare right.. and and.. ellie meeting reader there for.. idk maybe she signed up too late for patrols so she had to take on some other duty!! And she needs reader at the daycare and at first she’s so annoyed cuz she’d much rather do patrol but seeing u be so nice and motherly makes her time there a bit less annoying n after a while she starts to genuinely enjoy spending time with reader there n having fun with Al the kids and makes jokes abt u n her having ur own kids one day (little does she know that h did) DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE. This is so long Ivy I’m sorry. Tldr ellie and reader meeting at Jackson daycare! I just think that’s so adorable
n : i’m so sorry this took so long ml but this prompt is so cute and i am eternally grateful for u for it!!<33
please read (important!!) / please read! / how you can help palestine
ellie tried to stifle the sigh that was bubbling up within her chest, ready to escape. the scene before her was almost guaranteed to give her a headache in the next few moments. the garishly bright rainbow-coloured walls, the unnecessarily loud squeals, and the chatter of sticky, snotty-nosed toddlers running amok—oh, and there we go, one just bumped into her.
“sorry,” the little girl apologised with a timid smile, revealing a gap between her teeth. ellie’s lips twitched—just smile, be nice. be. nice. like she promised. this should be a breeze. she almost managed an "it’s okay" before noticing the girl sniffle, dragging her hand over her snotty nose, leaving a trail of mucus on her hand as she walked away.
in that very moment, ellie knew she would never have kids.
she’d have to keep that thought to herself, though. she couldn’t voice her opinions and risk making a group of kids cry, followed by you giving her that disapproving look. god, she hated that look. c
all her a bit of a sap, but she’d rather face a pack of wolves than see you look at her like that.
ellie’s thoughts paused as she heard the melody of your voice, gently calling the children’s attention. your voice, so sweet and soft, captivated them, drawing them close and silencing their chatter. it never ceased to amaze ellie how you did it.
but it wasn’t as if your voice hadn’t had the same effect on her—making her stumble over her words and her stomach do somersaults like a nervous schoolgirl. embarrassing, really.
the room grew quiet as the children listened to your instructions for a colouring activity. how fun! you handed each of them paper and coloured pencils, and once they were settled, you noticed ellie leaning against the doorframe, a sight you’d grown quite familiar with since she started helping out at the daycare. not that she helped much, but having her around kept you sane.
you waved at her with your sweet smile, and she waved back, trying hard not to crumble under that smile. it got even harder when you approached her, the rose and vanilla perfume you wore (not that she noticed or anything) making her knees weak. get it together, ellie.
“hi,” you spoke softly, a gentle smile gracing your lips. god, kill her now.
“hey,” ellie replied, trying to act nonchalant, though she was struggling.
“you’re not joining in?” you teased, playfully nudging her arm.
“do i look six?” ellie huffed, meeting your gaze as a cheeky grin spread across your face.
“don’t answer that, it was rhetorical,” ellie quickly added before a chuckle escaped your lips.
“oof, looks like one of them got to you,” you pointed at the smear of snot on her jeans.
“oh, fuck me,” ellie muttered with an exasperated sigh, earning a playful punch to her arm. she looked at you with a ‘what was that for?’ expression.
“what happened to the no swearing rule?”
“that rule is dumb.” ellie grumbled in response, rubbing her arm where you’d punched her.
“i truly wonder how you’ll cope when you have your own kids.” you crossed your arms, shaking your head in mock disappointment.
“one, don’t wish that on me, and two, our kids would be well-behaved, not snotty brats running around.” ellie grumbled, then stopped herself, realising what she’d just said. our kids? really? way to make it obvious, williams.
“i meant… my, uh, my kids! not ours. not that there’s anything wrong with you! i just—” ellie stumbled over her words, a pink blush creeping up her cheeks as another chuckle escaped your lips.
“something you want to tell me, williams?” you asked with a smile. before she could respond, a little boy ran up to you, patting your leg eagerly. “look! look!”
“hm? let’s see your drawing, mason.” you crouched down to his height, looking at the colourful stick figures he’d drawn. “this one is me,” the little boy pointed at one figure kicking a ball. “this one is you, and this one is ellie.” at the mention of her name, ellie snapped her attention back to the drawing.
“why does ellie look so grumpy, mase?” you asked with a small smile, pointing at the stick figure with a comically grumpy expression.
“ellie’s always grumpy!” the boy chirped, meeting her gaze.
“i’m not always grumpy,” ellie scoffed, looking away.
“yes, you are!”
“i’m not.”
“are too!”
“am not.”
“are.too.”
“am.not.”
“all right, that’s enough. mase, you can go back to colouring, okay?” you gently patted the boy’s back before ruffling his hair.
“okay!” mason nodded with a smile and ran off.
you turned back to ellie, still smiling. “we’re arguing with kids now?”
“he started it. and look how you handled that. natural. see? our kids will be fine.” ellie emphasised ‘our’ to tease you.
“uou’re already thinking about our future kids?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, playing along. the two of you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having a family together one day. spoiler alert: you did.
“is that a problem?” ellie retorted, raising an eyebrow, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other.
“we’ll talk later.”
#🎀#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams tlou#ellie fluff#ellie the last of us
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WIP excerpt for inkwell; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!
(( chrono || non-chrono ))
“You’re welcome,” he says, resisting the urge to fidget again. “Um, so . . . do you want to watch something? Or maybe go to the library?”
“N–” Lynn starts to say, and then–hesitates. Billy tries not to perk up too visibly, but probably does. “Uh . . . I don’t know.”
“Okay!” Billy says, grinning maybe a little too proudly at him, but figuring there’s way worse things to be too much of than just proud. Actually, yeah, who cares? There isn’t any such thing as “too proud”, especially of his own kid. “Why don’t you know? Have you done either?”
“I’ve . . . watched things,” Lynn says slowly, looking back down at Tawky. “Lots of things. In Cadmus, and at Kid Flash’s house. I don’t . . . it’s . . . distracting.”
Billy tilts his head, frowning consideringly. Well, Kid Flash watching TV with him makes sense, but did Cadmus have training videos, or–oh. No. Lynn wasn’t awake for most of his time at Cadmus. So what he means by “watched” is . . .
Oh. Right.
“‘Distracting’?” Billy asks, not sure if that means Lynn would rather have something more familiar or just get out of the apartment. He might feel a little less pressure that way. He’d always felt more out of sorts in a brand-new foster home, before he learned where things were and got used to being in somebody new’s space. Though he’s a lot less established in the apartment than any of those foster families ever were in any of their places, so . . . maybe that’s not a thing for Lynn?
Though Billy was still here first and the whole world’s brand-new to Lynn, so maybe it is.
“Too . . . loud,” Lynn says, his eyes slanting away. “Too fast. Too–bright, sometimes.”
Billy frowns again, a little worried, then thinks–oh, right.
“Oh, that might be because it’s probably calibrated for human senses,” he realizes. “Well–baseline human senses, I mean. Books aren’t like that, though, you can read them at your own pace. So do you wanna try the library? Or just have some time to yourself?”
“. . . I don’t know,” Lynn says, which isn’t super-helpful but is still an improvement on saying something definitive that he doesn’t actually mean, so Billy’s not gonna complain.
“Okay,” he says. “How about I clean up the takeout boxes while you think about it a little? And you can ask me questions, if you’re not sure about something. Or talk it over with Tawky, maybe.”
“. . . sure,” Lynn says, his voice slow again. “Um. Okay.”
“Great!” Billy says, beaming at him for a moment before getting to his feet and starting to collect all the empty boxes. They ate pretty much everything, so either Lynn needs more food than a normal human or just doesn’t really know what “hungry” and “full” feel like yet, which in retrospect is something Billy should’ve worried about sooner, but he figures a Kryptonian stomach isn’t gonna get a stomachache just because it overate a little, so it should be fine. Hopefully, anyway.
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Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt.3
a/n: decided not to include smut just yet, it didn't feel right considering the story, next time i promise we'll f the raisin
Warnings: Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Smoking Cigs
Summary: The camp gets attacked, and as such, important changes are forced to develop. Cross-Posted on AO3
Pt. 1, Pt. 2
Old. He feels old.
His age is like a thief in the night, it creeps up on him, slowly, before sinking its teeth right into his bones. There are centuries to his name now, and still, he doesn't learn from his mistakes. It's him chasing a woman, that has gotten him in this mess in the first place, and now he's doing the same damned thing. That's the only explanation, why he lets you get away with as much as he does.
Here you sit, curled into yourself, his lasso secured tightly around you, your hands raised towards your face. He watches with confliction, as you put a cigarette up to your lips, the bud lighting your features for just a moment, before a cloud of smoke escapes into the dark night. It's a deep, heavy inhale, your chest expands. He can feel the lasso move under his grip, and he flexes his fingers against it.
He's never seen anyone smoke in such an elegant manner, not after the bombs anyway. This regal air, a natural sort of poise, intrigues him beyond any reason. How did the Wasteland not destroy all this grace, how are you untouched by the roughness of this world, is beyond him. He tries to categorize everything he knows about you, all the small tidbits of information he has gathered through the short time you've been travelling together. Still, nothing explains this strange nature of you, and Cooper leans back, the sound of your Geiger meter spiking every time he moves.
Cooper reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes, your cigarettes. Feeling your gaze on him, he takes one and lights it against the small fire you both got going. Well, in all fairness, it was you that started the fire, while your captor watched you struggle, keeping his leash on you.
Those strange little power trips seemed to be one of his favorite games. He wouldn't be the first man that got off on power you've met, but he was definitely the most annoying. Your throat still burns slightly from the smoke, as you throw him a displeased look.
The nicotine is barely noticeable to him, like a grain of sugar in a very large chocolate cake. In his case, the cake is made of every drug possible to find in the Wasteland.
Still, Cooper tastes the pre-war chemicals with a strange sense of melancholy. It makes him remember, again, and he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke, not bothering to smother a low groan of pleasure. Your eyebrows jump to your forehead, but you compose yourself quickly, throwing your burning bud into the fire.
The events of the previous night are still vivid in your mind. His fingers flexing against your tongue. His knee between your legs, close but not close enough. Perhaps he wasn't the only one getting off on this uneven relationship, but you were not about to admit it, even to yourself.
- So - your voice is rough from the smoke, and you swallow around a lump in your throat - Where are you taking me?
He doesn't answer for a long while, just enjoying his cigarette, your cigarette. And he seems to be enjoying it very much, more than what's considered proper. Honestly, with the way he's been groaning, you wouldn't be surprised if he came on the spot just from the smoke. The thought makes your cheeks redden, and you chastise yourself for even thinking in that general direction, again. Has it really been that long?
- Shady Sands - smoke pushes past his teeth, surprisingly intact for a Ghoul.
- For real?
- Yup - another drag, you watch his chest expand under his coat - Shady Fucking Sands.
Your head slumps down, as you turn your gaze back to the fire. Hunger creeps up on you, and with your hands tied, you reach over to an Iguana on a stick roasting over the flames. Your tongue burns from the heat, but as soon as the chewy meat hits your stomach, you're ready to sing to the heaven's.
- That's an awfully long way for a bunch of caps - you note, between quick bites of your food - What was my bounty? Five hundred?
The last time you've checked, it was something around that number. Not too shabby, but not worryingly big either. Just enough to keep you on your toes for any desperate newcomers, but not enough to warrant attention from anyone actually dangerous. The Ghoul, as desperate as he looked back at the bar, started to look more and more like a professional, every second you've spent with him. There was something in the way he walked, the way his eyes stayed vigilant and aware, that screamed danger. Still, for five hundred caps, times must've really been hard on him.
- Try ten thousand.
A piece of meat lodges itself into your throat as you inhale with surprise. As soon as it happens, you cough it out, and it flies back into the fire, leaving you heaving with tears in your eyes.
- How much?! - you demand, hands trying to massage the pain in your chest.
The Ghoul smirks, taps the brim of his hat with his gun, which he kept trained on you for over three days now.
- Had I known I'm worth that much, I'd turn myself over a long time ago - you murmur, and the Ghoul shoots you a mirthless laugh.
- Thought you ran a charity, Healer - he spits your name out like the worst of slurs, and with half a mind you wonder why it bothers him so much.
Still, his words hit a little bit too close to home, and you turn to your skewer, chewing in silence, until he gives you a wordless permission to sleep. Tugging your messenger bag under your head, you listen to the various liquids sloshing inside, your Geiger meter cracking away on your hand. The Ghoul stands up to put out the fire, as cold was better than anyone finding you in the wilderness. Then, he sits down, a short distance from your curled up form.
You can feel him, even if you can't see him, and with tired arms, you tug your robe closer around your body.
- I try to be good - you whisper into the night, into the hot coals of the bonfire, into his unyielding indifference.
- You ain't gotta explain yourself to me, sweetheart - he answers in a low voice, and it's the nicest thing you've heard him say, since you've met him.
***
The raiders come at night, as they always do.
You're still halfway into deep sleep when the first shot rings out. The bullet lodges itself into the ground right in front of you, dirt exploding across your face. It doesn't wake you at first, confusion and remnants of some distant dream muddling your senses.
The Ghoul springs to action with record speed, and before you can truly react, he shoots three shots in the direction of the tree line. That's when you jump to your feet, ears ringing and head swimming with confusion.
A man in a tattered blouse falls to the ground, right next to the small fire pit, ash flying into the air. You can see his blood seeping into the coals, but before you can react, The Ghoul grabs you by the shoulder, all but throwing you behind him, as he levels his gun in front of him.
The ringing in your ears mixes with the wild beating of your heart, as you try to wrestle the panic into submission. The Ghoul's tattered coat whips itself across your ankles, and you've never wanted to be free of your binds as much as in this moment.
Silence. Complete, and utter silence engulfs the two of you, and you grab onto the bounty hunter's arm to steady yourself. His head turns in your direction for just a second. Eyes lock together, something flickers across his face, but it's gone before you can even begin to decipher the expression.
- I'll check the parameter - he grumbles, and walks towards the closest tree.
At first you don't even know how to voice your protest, as he all but ties you to the tree, securing his lasso, and consequently cutting off any means for you to escape. Like a wild dog, you're left there, watching him turn away in favor of walking into the trees.
Panic rises in your gut, as you tug on the rope.
- Hey! - you whisper-yell after him, eyes searching for any more attackers - Don't you dare leave me here!
But he's already walking away, keeping himself low, his rifle tight in hand. A couple of steps into the tree line and he blends completely with the surroundings, like he belongs there, amongst the trees. Chest heaving, you double the efforts of freeing yourself, the rope digging painfully into your wrists.
Frustration quickly overcomes fear, and you kick out, the ash from the bonfire swirling around you like a cloud.
Then, a twig breaks somewhere behind you, and your blood freezes in your veins.
***
Cooper moves through trees like he's one with the southern wind.
His coat shuffles around his ankles, as he presses further into the tree line, more bothered by the small attack than he would like to admit.
The bullet almost hit you. In the head no less. Ten thousand caps, gone in a second
He allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment, barely a second, and it was all it took. When has he become so sloppy, he couldn't tell, but he supposed it had something to do with the way you looked like, when sleeping.
So at peace, like this hard ground was the most comfortable bed in the world. Your cheek squished into your messenger bag, as if it was the softest of pillows. He wondered, what warranted such trust, such peace of mind, that you fell into deep sleep almost as soon as you closed your eyes.
Did you really trust him that much?
A dangerous idea, he thinks. An idea he might've entertained centuries back, when he still had a nose and didn't look out onto this hell of a world through layers upon layers of cynicism. Still, your curled form tugged on something, some shadow of his former self, that he needed to squash sooner, rather than later.
He was getting too damn old for this.
Cooper finds the raiders camp in a matter of minutes. Two sleeping bags, a bunch of empty bottles and, to Cooper's dark amusement, a half-eaten human leg.
So, not just raiders, but fiends as well.
Cooper kicks at one of the sleeping bags, his eyes searching for anything of use. And that's when his mind catches up.
He hears your scream tear through air.
His head whips back, hat almost falling.
A shot rings out.
Ten thousand fucking caps. He's an idiot, an old idiot.
Cooper starts to run, branches snapping under his boots as he cuts through the trees with surprising agility. Another scream, raw and gut wrenching, and he can almost see your bloodied body twitching under the second fiend. The one he didn't get.
Rifle first, he all but barrels into the clearing, for a split second not knowing what he's looking at.
Because yes, there is a bloodied body in the camp, it's face barely resembling human features with the way it's been brutally eviscerated. But it's not yours. Too thin, too male, too hardened.
That's when he sees you. Curled against the tree, where he tied you down and left you. Your hands are gripping some large stone, blood drips from your fingers, down to your arms. Your shoulders are moving, up and down, in a steady rhythm of deep, heaving breaths, and for a second, Cooper allows himself to feel relief.
You don't even look at him, still holding onto the rock, nails biting into it's surface, and he can't clearly see your face, but he can see the blood. Your Geiger meter crackles, as he comes closer, kicking at the dead fiend, just to be sure.
- We gotta get moving, there might be more of those fu-
His words die in his throat, because suddenly, something collides with staggering force onto his body. Landing on his back, he immediately lifts his arms up, to shield himself from bloodied fists, slamming into his chest, into his head, wherever they can reach.
- You left me! - your voice sounds like a wounded animal - You motherfucker! Why did you leave me?!
There is no real force backing your punches, all your strength apparently drained by what you did to fiend just moments ago.. They do become quite irritating, and Cooper wrangles your, still bound, hands until he has your by the wrist. And that's when he sees you. Finally, truly sees you.
You're hunched over him, straddling his waist, hair whipping around your head like some deranged angel's halo. Features twisted into a mixture between fury and anguish, your face is red, sticky with drying blood.
Beautiful, tragically beautiful, Cooper thinks, and this time doesn't chastise himself for it.
- Why did you...?! - your voice cracks like a broken mirror - You're the one killing people, not me. I'm not... I've never...
Cooper fights through your spasming muscles, as slowly, your anger dissipates, leaving nothing but tears, which are now creating pathways down your cheeks. Finally, he understands. Your poise, your elegance, the gentleness in every movement.
You've never killed anyone. Never taken a life.
Unknowingly, he has made you into a killer.
Shoulders sag against his hold, as you slump into him. He feels you, the length of your torso on his, your shallow breathing warming his shirt. And he lets you rest, lets you curl into him like he isn't worse than both of those fiends combined. Like he hasn't just put you through this hell, hasn't tied you up, dragged you through God knows where.
- He... - you choke out, and Cooper curses at the way his hands slide around your back to hold you closer, tighter - He tried to...
- I know - he doesn't know what has possessed him, but he comforts you just the same - I know, sweet thing. I'm sorry.
Tears fall heavy onto his collarbone, as you let yourself be held. And he holds on with everything he has, deciding that perhaps, you both have some time left. Fingers trace the pattern of your curved spine, the dips between your shoulderblades. He dares not move lower, even though perhaps he wants to. Perhaps he would take advantage of this situation and try to find out just how much he can get away with. But some missplaced feeling of decency wrangles itself onto the surface, swallowing down all the murder, and the lies, and all the horribly depraved things he has thought about, while keeping you hostage.
It takes some minutes for you to calm down, and when you do, he pulls you up. Not the usual tug of the rope you're both used to, but a gentle hand in your hand, helping you steady yourself against him. The warmth of your body is all but a memory now, and he clings to it for just a moment longer, a souvenir for later.
The silence is heavy with unsaid words, with actions that will have disastrous consequences. But as he unties you from the tree, as you look over at the bloodied body of the fiend, he finds that there are no words left to be said.
So you swing your messenger bag over your arm, and let him lead you further into the Wasteland. No longer yourself, no longer the Healer, but something else entirely.
#my writing#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x you#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul smut#fallout x reader#fallout tv series#fallout smut#again this one is a bit shorter but the next one im going all out on the story
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The Caged Truth
Yandere male X winged reader
A/n: Hi, it has been a while, sorry for being absent but I am back with a new story. You can imagine any male character for this story, feel free to choose your favourite.
"A caged bird isn't a real bird. A real bird can fly. Those that are trapped lose all that makes them a bird."
Your statement came as a surprise, so surprising that it caught the attention of your captor as he was reaching to open the bedroom door and leave. He stopped, all movements faltered, and a deafening silence created a sense of unease that could almost make you sick. But you refused to show such emotions and patiently awaited his response. A few seconds went by, and the air started to thicken, as if it was warning you. Had you made a mistake? Had you spilled the wrong words? But you had only spoken the most honest truth. Surely he would understand, given the situation.
He slightly turned his head to the side, showing he was thinking about the words he was going to say in response.
"A bird with one wing chopped off cannot fly as well. Does that not make it a bird then?" He asked.
Those words were definitely ones you were not expecting. A simple question that nearly contradicted your own words. You felt stress rise as you tried to find a way to answer without leaving another opening, hoping to make a better point. You realized that the bedroom had now become an arena, where one of you would come out as the victor, and the other as the loser. Your mind raced desperately. If you gave no answer soon, then he would win, and you would face pure humiliation.
"But at least it is still free. Regardless of its disability, it may not fly, but it is outside, living and not confined..."
"But vulnerable." He interrupted.
Your form moved slightly backward as your eyes widened in shock. He turned around, and by doing so, you could have sworn the room darkened. He faced you with a stoic expression that nevertheless had an apologetic tint to it, as if he understood where you were getting at but was still convinced by his own ideal. He adavnced slowly. You instinctively backed away. He watched you while you avoided his gaze.
This lasted until your wings made contact with the cold wall behind you, which signified that it was short-lived. He finally came to a grounding halt as his chest was millimeters away from your form. He leaned forward and slowly reached his hand out towards you. You flinched, not knowing what he was going to do. You closed your eyes tightly but reopened them as soon as you felt the rough hand caress your left wing.
"A one-winged bird can never survive in this cruel world. It would die as soon as it is born," he said as his other hand reached out to touch your other wing, leaving you completely trapped in his hold, too afraid to move.
"Even a bird in its integrity can fly, eat, sleep, but can also die so easily as it has many predators hungrily watching it, as it has many arrows pointing ready to shoot it down, as it has ways to fall and die."
His hand movements stopped, and he let go of your wings. He moved one to your face and tilted it upwards to look into his stone-cold eyes.
"That is the price of freedom, a price I will not allow you to pay. That is why cages were made, to keep it safe."
The word "it" really meant "you," and you could see the sincerity behind his words. His stern expression softened ever so slightly, but yours only grew sadder.
"But at what cost?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "A life without freedom isn't a life at all. Can't you see that?"
His grip on your face tightened momentarily before he let out a long, weary sigh. "I can see it, but I cannot risk losing you. The world out there is merciless and unforgiving. Here, in this cage, you are safe. With me, you are safe."
Tears welled up in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of relenting, and in the end, they only spilt down your face. He kissed your forehead as soon as he saw your sadness but did not wipe your tears away. Because tears are a sign of realization...
A realization that you would never leave his cage...
#yandere male#yandere male x reader#yandere male x you#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere stories#x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#short story#short#yandere fanfiction#yandere anime#yandere genshin#yandere genshin x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere honkai star rail#yandere hsr#yandere idea#yandere love#angel reader#hybrid#angelic#birds
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━☞🍽️ Second Course: He treats you so well, and you're naive enough to believe that only you have the key to his tasty heart. Or his pants. 🥢
🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Traitor
wc: 1.0k
genre & warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of sex, cursing, crying, there's another girl, lovers to exes, pure heartbreak :D , Yeji of ITZY special appearance etc etc
a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.
ps. i've already reposted this but it still won't appear under the tags that i've put so ig i'll just let it be lmao. imma just post it the way it is bc i'm tired of trying and thinking on what to do to make it work.
At the tender age of 13, you took note of everything that was written in an article that you accidentally opened and read on a fishy website entitled, 'Signs that your partner is falling out of love.'
You thought it would help you avoid conflict with a future partner, it would help you evade an impending heartbreak, but nothing can prepare you for the real world, it seems.
Your boyfriend, Park Seonghwa, was the definition of a picture perfect man.
He's kind, respectful and loving. He had all the love languages.
He never shunned away from skinship, and most of the time, he's the one who's initiating it. Giving you hugs and kisses even in public without any ounce of shame.
Even when he's busy, he still gives you the time of his day. Often, he would choose to lose sleep if it means that he'll be able to talk and see you after a long, tiring day at work.
He's also the type to buy 'just because' gifts. Randomly walking around a park then he'll see this cute bunny keychain, buying it immediately so he can give it to you because the bunny reminds him of you.
Fixing collars, tying shoelaces, cooking you food— he does it all, and naturally too. The way he pampers you like a mother hen is the sweetest thing you have ever seen in a man.
The most important thing though? It's his ability to listen and soothe all your worries away. He tells you that if you're overthinking, you can simply say it to him and he'll gladly give you all the assurance that you need.
So, what went wrong? Where did it go wrong? Is there something wrong with you?
The situation at hand made you question yourself, then again, are you really the problem here?
"The least you can give me is a reasonable explanation!" you yelled, gripping Seonghwa's arm that was holding his suitcase, attempting to stop him from leaving you without any form of closure.
"Well, what do you want me to say?" he snapped, raising his usual soft voice at you, something that he has never done before.
"A reason! Explanation, anything! Why are you suddenly breaking up with me?!" you blinked rapidly, the itchiness in your throat makes it harder for you to breathe, and the sinking feeling of dread in your stomach is urging you to vomit.
This is so fucking messed up.
Just last night, Seonghwa was fine. He even made love to you in your shared bed, whispering how good you are for him.
Last week, he brought you flowers. Last last week, he took you to a nice restaurant for dinner. Last month, he took you to Maldives for a summer getaway.
Nothing changed and everything felt the same, thus, the current happenings don't make sense.
You come home from work and the next thing you know, your significant other of how many years are mumbling nonsense of going separate ways. That you two are better off without the other.
You just don't fucking understand what the hell went wrong.
"I don't love you anymore."
You never knew that a mere sentence that is composed of five words is more than enough to break your heart, your world.
He doesn't love you anymore?
"Since when?" you weakly muttered, wanting answers that will probably hurt you more.
"For the last few months."
You winced, there were no signs of him not loving you. He must be lying, his shaky chocolate orbs say otherwise.
"Okay." you speak, no more energy to fight for him, to fight for a battle that is not worth the blood, sweat, and tears.
Just like that, you watched him walk away. Out of your home, out of your life, and you were left alone. Crying your heart out, gripping your chest as it physically hurts as well, the pain searing through you.
Two weeks later.
Your friend, Yeji, was making a ruckus, she was basically shoving her phone in your face.
"Y/N, look! Isn't this your ex?"
You peeked at the device, and your heart dropped along with your mood.
What the fuck?
That is your only reaction at the photo posted on Seonghwa's instagram because it hasn't been a month, and here he is, with a girl that he's being lovey-dovey with.
A girl.. a familiar one.
"That fucker." you uttered menacingly, your fists tightly clenched on your lap as your friends worriedly glanced at you.
Isn't that the one you asked him about? The fucking girl that was lingering around him all the damn time like a wretched fly. He told she's nothing but a co-worker.
Sure. Kissing your co-worker on the cheeksin a field of maple trees is very professional, isn't it?
You are not sure what to feel. He broke up with you so he could date that girl, it seems.
Should you be thankful? Or should you curse him until he dies?
Either way, now that you're thinking about it, maybe he really didn't fall out of love with you, just that he found someone that he loves more. There was no proof, but there was evidence of his upcoming betrayal.
The way he was always on his phone, and maybe, all the things he had done for you before were nothing but distractions so you wouldn't notice what he was doing behind your back.
A lady's gut never lies, yet you choose to ignore it, and this is what you get.
You laughed yet the tears dripping down your cheeks is the complete opposite of your actions.
Not once did you hear him apologize during the argument about the break-up, and my god, did you hate him so much for entering your life like a storm and leaving such a mess behind.
Park Seonghwa is no cheater, but he is a raging traitor.
Then again, no one is at fault here but you, as you should've seen this coming. You should've been alert, using your rationality instead of your useless heart, and now you're paying the price for his treason.
taglist:
@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns
#ateez imagines#seonghwa imagines#ateez#ateez smut#ateez scenarios#ateez fluff#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez reactions#ateez angst#seonghwa smut#seonghwa fluff#seonghwa scenarios#seonghwa x reader#ateez hard hours#ateez hard thoughts#park seonghwa imagines#park seonghwa smut#park seonghwa angst#park seonghwa fluff#seonghwa hard hours#seonghwa hard thoughts#seonghwa#hongjoong imagines#yunho imagines#san imagines#yeosang imagines#mingi imagines#wooyoung imagines#jongho imagines
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what theories elaborate🙏
Was trying not to be too controversial but okay 😂
I think some people headcanon Mickey as being confident when it comes to his relationship with Ian and “never losing hope in their relationship” because it’s a way for them to give Ian a pass for the way he’s hurt Mickey, so to speak. I’ve seen sentiments like “Mickey doesn’t hold anything against Ian. So why does the fandom????” from people in response to criticisms of Ian (particularly when it comes to 5x12 and S6).
People use the 7x10 and 9x06 reunions as evidence of Mickey’s confidence in Ian’s want for him but like…there are several canon instances that point to Mickey actually being pretty insecure about how Ian feels about him and fearful of Ian dropping him again.
At the end of 7x10 he asks Ian “is this goodbye?” and is visibly happily surprised when Ian gets in the car. He was not expecting Ian to agree to go with him.
In 7x11 he asks him “did you ever think about me when I was in the joint?” and voices the fact that Ian never visited bothered him.
In S10, when Ian tells him he has a parole hearing, Mickey is very clearly upset by it at first and doesn’t have any confidence in them maintaining a relationship while Ian is out and he’s in prison (probably because of what happened in S6).
And Mickey literally says “you just don’t love me enough now” when Ian tries to talk to him after the courthouse drama. Point blank spelling out that he doesn’t think Ian loves him as much as he loves Ian. These are all canon scenes and lines.
And it makes complete sense why he would feel that way after Ian’s long history of running away from him. Again, yes, Ian had his reasons. But you can understand why Ian does the things he’s done while also acknowledging the hurtful effect they’ve had on Mickey. And the truth is, Mickey has abandonment issues when it comes to Ian. (At least in S10).
“Ian has commitment issues that stem from his lack of self-worth after his bipolar diagnosis” and “Mickey has been clearly hurt by the times Ian has let him down” are two arguments that can exist at the same time.
#anonymous#answered#I’m glad I’ve finally found my people in Mickey stans btw#shameless#mickey milkovich
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Some Things Are Meant to Be - Part 3
She freezes at the sound of the voice she hadn’t heard in years, her shoulders tight as she turns, her jaw clenched as their eyes meet, a face she hadn’t seen in two decades staring right back at her.
A sequel to Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too
Part 3/3
Part 1 -x- Part 2
-x-
Hi friends,
Sorry for the slight wait on the final part of this!
I really hope you like this...there are a LOT of mommy issues because I got carried away as usual.
Please let me know what you think <3
-x-
Words: 3.9k
Warnings: None
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
It feels like she’s stepped back in time.
The house looks the same, as if it hadn’t been 20 years since she’d last been here. She’d never liked being here. It had never felt like home even though it was the closest she’d ever had to one before she lived with Aaron. It was the ‘home base’, the place where she and her parents would come back to after months away, usually only for a month or two at most. It was a house, but it had never been a home.
She hated it. Hated what it represented, what she could have had if her parents were different. What she was giving her girls and what she’d spend her entire life protecting so they knew they were loved.
She blows out a shuddering breath and she jumps a little when she feels Aaron wrap his hand around hers. Her smile falters when she turns to look at him, a shake to it that he wasn’t used to.
“We can just go home,” he offers, lifting their joint hands and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “We can just turn around and go home, pretend this never happened.”
She loves him for suggesting it, for loving her enough to suggest it. She leans in and stamps a kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment before she rests her forehead against his, “That’s sweet but I have to know what they want.”
He knew her well enough to know it would drive her crazy if she never found out, if she simply ignored the email her mother had sent a week ago. It already had been driving her crazy. She hadn’t been herself this week, had been more irritable than usual - short-tempered with anyone other than him and the girls. He knew the girls had noticed it too. Evelyn was on her best behaviour, any usual teenage angst nowhere to be found, concern in her dark eyes whenever she looked at her mother. Hazel and Mae understood less of what was going on, but they were sticking closer to Emily even more than usual, demanding her love and attention at any given moment.
Emily hesitates as she reaches for the doorbell, blowing out a steady breath before she presses it. Aaron watches as her armour goes up. Thick, almost impenetrable walls he hadn’t seen in years as a fake smile spreads across her face when the front door opens. It’s the version of her he met all those years ago.
The version he’d fallen in love with in this very house.
“Miss Emily,” the housekeeper says as she smiles, pulling the door open so they can step into the house, “It’s been a long time.”
“Hi Vanessa,” she says, smiling tightly, “It’s nice to see you,” she adds, looking around the foyer, wondering how nothing had changed, “Are they…”
“The ambassadors are in the formal living room,” Vanessa says, her smile getting slightly brighter when she looks at Aaron, an edge of I knew it curved into its corners, “Nice to see you again Agent Hotchner.”
Aaron clears his throat, hiding a smile he worries isn’t appropriate, and nods, “You too, Vanessa.”
Vanessa waves them through and Emily blows out a slow breath as they walk slowly through the house. She squeezes her husband's hand and lowers her voice, purposely talking quietly so they aren’t overheard.
“Is it just me or does it seem exactly the same?”
“Not just you, sweetheart,” he assures her, “It’s like a time capsule,” he says, winking at her when he turns to look at her, desperate to try to ease some of the tension he can sense in her, “Might even find our old make-out spots.”
She chuckles and smiles gratefully at him but any further conversation is cut off as they walk into the living room. For a moment she doesn’t feel like the confident 43-year-old she is, instead she feels like she’s 23 again and just about to be cut off by the people sitting in front of her.
“Mom,” she says, briefly looking at her mother before she looks at her father. John Prentiss hadn’t aged as well as Elizabeth had, and it made Emily realise just how much of each other's lives they’d missed. “Dad.”
She sits down before either one of them can attempt to hug her, the forced nature of it too much for her to handle. Aaron follows her lead and sits next to her, his thigh pressed against hers as their joint hands fall into her lap.
“I wasn’t expecting you to have company.”
Emily narrows her eyes at her mother and swallows thickly, “Aaron is my husband,” she says, her gaze unrelenting, “He has been for a long time.”
“How long have you been married?” John asks, genuine interest in his voice that Emily doesn’t think he deserves.
“17 years,” Aaron answers when she doesn’t, his grip on her hand firm as she looks at the ground, her stomach bubbling over with anxiety and anger she can’t control.
“That’s a long-”
“Why are we here?” Emily asks, her head snapping up as she looks at them, “You want something. You didn’t ask me to come here just to pass the time of day,” she says, staring them down, “What do you want?”
Elizabeth and John look at each other and Emily watches as they have a silent conversation. She’d sat opposite them countless times before in moments like this when she’d been in trouble as a child or as a teenager. Eventually, they turn to look at her, and Elizabeth folds her hands in her lap.
“It’s about your daughter.”
Emily sighs and closes her eyes, shaking her head as she bites back a knowing laugh. “Which one?” She gets a sense of satisfaction at the shock that crosses over both of her parent’s faces when she asks the question she already knows the answer to, “We have three.”
She watches as her mother controls her reaction, her lips pressed together before she continues, the tension in the room increasing with each passing second.
“Obviously, we mean the one I saw you with since we didn’t know you had more than one,” she says tightly, “I asked around,” Elizabeth says, a smile that had a little too much pride in it for Emily’s liking spreading across her face, “Evelyn apparently shows a real aptitude for politics. Given our connections, we could help her get ahead. She may not have the Prentiss name but she has the talent.”
It’s exactly why Emily thought her mother had reached out to her, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. The confirmation stinging deep in her gut as she realises neither of her parents had even asked about their other granddaughters. They hadn’t sought out any other information beyond the fact they existed. She chokes on a humourless laugh and shakes her head as she stands up, turning her back on her parents for a moment as she takes a breath. Aaron reaches for her hand and she squeezes it before she turns back.
“Hazel and Mae.”
Elizabeth frowns at her, “What-”
“Our other kids,” she says, staring at them, 20 years of pent-up fury coming to a boil in her stomach, “Their names are Hazel and Mae. Not that you asked. But those are their names.”
John sighs, “Emily, wait a second-”
“Hazel is so good at drawing. She has been ever since she could pick up a crayon,” she says, cutting her father off, her hand tight around Aaron’s who is now also standing next to her, “She’s 10. It’s crazy how good she is, and a little scary because I look at the stuff she brings home from school and I can only imagine what she’ll be capable of when she’s older,” she adds, unable to stop now she’d started, wanting them to feel nothing other than shame that they’d missed out on everything because of their own short-sightedness, “And Mae, she’s 5 and she’s so caring. If any of the other kids fall over at recess she’s there with them before the teacher is, trying to cheer them up and make them feel better,” her chest heaves and she shakes her head, “Do they deserve your attention too? Or is your desire to know Evelyn borne out of nothing more than the fact she’s what you wish I’d been.”
“Emily, you’re being sensitive-”
“I’m not…I’m not doing this. You are not doing this. We can all go back to the way things were a week ago,” Emily says, shaking her head, “I am not letting you have anything to do with them.”
Elizabeth sighs and shakes her head, “First you walk away from all the opportunities we could have given you for a man,” she says, her eyes flicking to Aaron, “And now you’re refusing to allow your own daughter to have them because of your own stubbornness.”
Aaron feels a wave of protectiveness wash over him, pushing him forward as he stands in front of his wife, his jaw tight, “You can’t talk to her like that.”
“Aaron,” Emily says, placing her hand on his chest, shaking her head ever so slightly so only he can see, “It’s okay,” she waits for him to nod, although he doesn’t step back, and then she turns back to Elizabeth, “I am making the decision I think is right for my daughter. If she wants to do anything different when she turns 18 that’s her call, but for now, I get to decide what I protect her from - and that includes you.”
John scoffs and shakes his head, “20 years and you haven’t changed a bit.”
“I have changed, Dad,” she says, pressing her lips together, “I am an excellent FBI agent. I am a wife and a mother and I like to think I’m pretty good at that too,” she bites the inside of her cheek, unsure whether to say what she wants to next, but deciding that she should, well aware this would likely be the last time she’d speak to them if she had anything to do with it, “And for the record, I didn’t walk away for a man. I did it for me. That would have been true whether Aaron and I worked out or not,” she swallows thickly and turns to look at Aaron, “We should go.”
Elizabeth stands up, “Now, Emily, we just want a moment to discuss this.”
She looks back at her mother and shakes her head, “You’re about 20 years too late to discuss my life with me,” she looks at Aaron again, “Can we go?”
He nods and places his hand on her lower back as he starts to lead her out of the house. He casts a glance back over his shoulder at his in-laws, the people who had deemed him not good enough for the woman he loved, and he throws them a small nod, something he hopes they take as an assurance he’d look after her. Just like he always had.
Emily doesn’t say anything as they get in the car, her jaw clenched and tight as she clips her seatbelt into place. He reaches over the centre console and places his hand on her knee, squeezing tightly.
“Em-”
“They didn’t even really want to see me,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes a tear from her cheek, “If I’d walked into her alone…” she drifts off and clears her throat as she looks out of the window, “Can we just go home, please?”
He stares at her side profile for a moment and he leans in and kisses her temple before he starts the engine, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
___
December 1999
Emily hums a nursery rhyme as she paces the living room, her lips against her daughter’s forehead as she tries to get her off to sleep. She groans as she tilts her head to look at Evelyn and sees she’s still awake, the four-week-olds dark eyes still wide open as she snuggles against her mother’s chest.
“Come on, sweet girl,” she says, rubbing circles on the baby’s back, “Please go to sleep.”
“She wants to see in the new millennium.”
She smiles as she turns to look at her husband, raising an eyebrow as he walks towards them, placing a bottle of sparkling cider and two champagne flutes on the coffee table as he makes it to their side. The television was on, but the sound was off, the celebrations in Times Square up on the screen for them to barely pay attention to.
“You can drink actual champagne, you know,” she says, stamping her lips against his before she can continue to pace, knowing Evelyn would never fall asleep if she stood still for too long, “Just because I’m Evie’s personal dairy cow doesn’t mean you can’t ring in the new year without real alcohol.”
“It wouldn’t feel right, sweetheart,” he says, leaning back against the couch, his arms crossed as he watches his two favourite people in the world, “Plus, I think I can still feel last year's hangover.”
She laughs, something she has to hold back when she remembers she still has her daughter resisting sleep on her chest. They’d spent last New Year out with their friends, drunk a lot of champagne and then came home and had a lot of sex.
Sex that she is almost positive led to the tiny baby in her arms.
“Same,” she says, resting her cheek on top of Evelyn’s head, “It had the best outcome though.”
He walks over and wraps his arms around them both, “The absolute best,” he says, kissing her forehead, “Want me to take her for a while?”
Emily nods and kisses Evelyn’s head before she lets him take her out of her arms, overcome with the usual mix of joy at seeing them together and the desire to snatch her baby back into her embrace. Moments like this inevitably made her think of her parents. She tried to imagine them in the early stages of parenthood, of the long seemingly endless days of having a newborn. She wished she could picture them like this, trading off holding her as they tried to get her off to sleep late at night, but she couldn’t.
She thought she’d miss them. That the six years she’d gone without having her parents in her life would disappear and she’d suddenly feel like she was right at the start again, that being a new parent would unlock some deep-seated, primal, need in her to have them back.
But it hadn’t. Her family was small, just the three of them for now, but she loved it. She didn’t feel like she was missing anything.
“There we go,” Aaron says, his voice soft as he pulls her out of her train of thought, a smile on his face that edged on smug as he turns to show her that Evelyn is fast asleep.
“Daddy’s girl,” Emily scoffs, although they both know there is no malice behind it, and she walks over stroking her knuckles down her daughter’s soft cheek, her breath catching in her chest as she does so. “She’s so perfect,” she says, her eyes filling with tears she still wasn’t used to as she looks up at him, “How did we make something so perfect?”
Aaron smiles and adjusts his hold on Evelyn and wraps his arm around his wife, pulling her close and kissing her temple, “Because you’re perfect.”
She chuckles and shakes her head, pressing her face into his shoulder as she turns to look at Evelyn, “Daddy is ridiculous, sweet girl,” she says quietly, not wanting to wake her, “But we love him anyway.” She teases, and he shakes his head and looks at the television and sees the ball drop and he encourages Emily to look. They both smile and she leans in to kiss him, “Happy New Year, honey.”
He smiles as he pulls back, “Happy New Year.”
___
The girls are all over her when they get home.
Hazel brings her a drawing she’s done, a proud smile on her face as she climbs in her lap as Emily looks over it. She holds the 10-year-old close as she points out who is who in the family portrait she’d drawn, although it’s clear enough that Emily doesn’t need the direction. She already knows she’s going to take it to work and frame it, place it on her desk to look at it every time she has a hard day and needs reminding of all the good things she had in the world.
Mae sticks close by too, glued to her mother’s side until Aaron takes her to bed, her small hands on Emily’s cheeks as she pokes at her dimples to make her smile. Emily can hear her giggling upstairs, and she knows there is no doubt that the 5-year-old is conning Aaron into at least one bedtime story.
She sighs to herself and she’s just about to go to the kitchen, a bottle of wine in the fridge with her name on it, but she’s stopped as Evelyn walks into the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“Are you okay Evie?”
The teenager shrugs and then sighs when Emily pats the couch cushion next to her. She walks over and flops down onto the couch, her legs tucked under herself as she faces Emily.
“Did you go and see your mom and dad today?”
Emily’s eyebrow shoot up her face before she can stop them and she chokes on a laugh at the unexpected question. She loved that her daughters were smart, that they’d always been ahead of the curve when it came to their peers, but for once, just once, she wished Evelyn wasn’t as perceptive.
“Why…” she clears her throat, “Why do you think we did that?”
Evelyn rolls her eyes, “Because we walked into your mom a week ago and you’ve been acting all weird ever since,” she says, twisting some of her hair in between her fingers, “And you seem…I don’t know…sad.”
Emily sighs and she reaches out to place her hand on Evelyn’s arm. She never lied to her daughters, not beyond the Santa Claus or Tooth Fairy lies every parent told, and she wasn’t going to start now.
“Yes,” she says, squeezing her daughter’s arm, “We went to see them.”
The corner of Evelyn’s lips twitch, a sarcastic smile Aaron said was all her looking back at her, “I’m guessing because of the pizza we had for dinner and Dad’s over-the-top enthusiasm for helping with Mae’s bedtime it didn’t exactly go well?”
She laughs and nods her head, “Yeah, it didn’t go well.”
“I looked them up,” Evelyn says, taking Emily by surprise again, her lips pressed together as their eyes meet, “A long time ago at school. I knew they were a big deal but…wow.”
Emily’s confidence in her earlier decision wavers, a moment of doubt washing over her like ice water as she blows out a shaky breath, “Would you…” she swallows thickly, “Would you want to get to know them?”
“Oh god no,” she replies, shaking her head fiercely, smiling when Emily looks surprised. She shifts closer and tucks herself under Emily’s arm, resting her head against her chest, “I know you’ve always talked around it, but I know enough to know it has something to do with Dad.”
Emily runs her fingers through Evelyn’s hair, enjoying the closeness from her eldest, “What does honey?”
“Why you don’t speak to them,” she says, tilting her head to look up at her, “And Dad might be embarrassing as hell and the worst school trip chaperone of all time,” they both smile and Emily reaches out to tuck some hair behind Evelyn’s ear, “But he’s Dad. And you two are disgustingly in love after all this time, and I’m half him. What if they don’t like the half of me that's him?”
Emily hums and tugs Evelyn back into her chest, resting her cheek on top of her head, “It’s more likely the part of you that’s me they’d have the biggest problem with.”
Evelyn settles in closer to Emily’s embrace and sighs, “I can stop,” she says, looking up at her again, an earnest look in her eyes, “If it means we’re less likely to bump into them or whatever, I can stop student government.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Emily says, sitting up so she can cup Evelyn’s cheek, tears pressing at the back of her eyes that she refuses to shed, her daughter’s kindness healing any wounds that her parent’s lack of interest in her had created, “I would never ask you to do that.”
Evelyn frowns, “I don’t want to do anything that makes you sad.”
She leans forward and kisses her daughter’s forehead and then tugs her into a hug, smiling into her little girl’s hair as she returns it just as fiercely, “You never could, honey. I am so proud of you,” she says, pulling back to look at her, “And I want you to be whoever you want to be.”
She hears a throat clearing in the doorway and she smiles as she looks over and sees her husband, the adoring look on his face letting her know just how much he’d overheard.
“I was thinking we could watch one of those shows you two like,” he says as he leans against the door frame, “One of those where the women all yell at each other in whatever restaurant they happen to be in.”
Evenlyn beams at him and jumps up off the couch, “There is a new episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” she says, briefly hugging Aaron before she leaves the room, “I’ll get the snacks.”
“There are peanut butter cups in the back of the pantry,” he calls after her, smiling when she waves her hand at him over her shoulder. He waits until she’s out of view and then walks over to the couch, sitting next to his wife and wrapping his arm around her, “It feels stupid asking, but are you okay?”
She blows out a breath as she sinks into his side, her head on his shoulder as he pulls her impossibly closer. She tilts her head to look at him, and her smile shakes a little. She knew it would take a while before she felt like she was on even footing again, and that she’d hold her breath, anticipating that she was going to walk into one of her parents every time she’d turn a corner.
In some ways, it felt like she was right back at the start but she knew she wasn’t. She wasn’t 23 and unsure of where her relationship could end up, she knew she would have Aaron by her side no matter what. She hadn’t walked away from her family, she had one of her own. A family stitched together with love and joy, not unfulfilled expectations and half-truths.
She nods and leans in to kiss him, making sure it’s quick because she can hear Evelyn walking back towards them, her feet thumping against the hardwood floor.
“I will be.”
-x-
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hiii🫶🏼
what would be your hc of the guys and their favorite thing about you (reader), or, what they unconsciously look for in a parter/relationship?
Rdr2 Men and what they love about you!
Thank you for the request! If anyone else wants to send ideas for me to write, 'Ask Away Partner!' Is where you can submit them!
I hope I met your expectations!
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Arthur: The thing he adores most about you is how genuinely nice you are. You will help strangers who need it, look after stray cats, and listen to the gang member's problems. He just can't understand how someone so loving could want to be around him. He also believes that he is too bad for you to associate with, and that makes him feel guilty for even wanting you to be his.
Sean: Surprisingly, it's how blunt and stern you are. You will tell people how it is without beating around the bush, tell people off when they need to be, and take a lot of situations seriously. A leader; a strong willed woman. He likes this because when he gets you to laugh loudly, joke around and be playful, it's a big accomplishment for him. It makes him feel on top of the world, because he made you laugh.
Dutch: He loves how good you are at listening. Whenever he's had a plan that's gone bust, or just a terrible day in general, being able to come back and just let it all out. You will sit and nod, agree with what he's saying and console him, occasionally offering solutions which may help. He can't help but smile at your willingness to try to help and be there for him.
John: He loves a feisty woman. He may act like he doesn't like butting heads, but deep down he loves it. The way he can tease and jab at you, and you'll respond with even harsher jabs, sometimes a gentle slap to warn him that he's taking it too far, makes him grin like crazy. Keeps him on his toes, and majority of the time, it keeps him in check.
Jaiver: How you try to learn Spanish so you can sing along with him. He will just be singing by the campfire and he can hear you humming softly by his side with your eyes closed, and it makes him wish he could listen to it forever. Then one day, you tried speaking Spanish and he got so giddy and tried to help your pronunciation. He also wants to be able to talk crap about gang member's with you while sitting right next to them.
Charles: How you look after everyone in the gang. You learned how to sew wounds, help colds, and the herbs that aid with that; simply because you wanted to help people. The way you are soft with everyone, very calm talking, and well spoken makes him smile while he watches you converse with others.
Lenny: How you love to write and read. You get embarrassed when someone asks to read what you're writing, so he has sneakily gone through the pages, and loved how amazing your imagination is. He also asks you to read to him, finding your voice relaxing while he does basic tasks. If you're lucky, you'll take turns reading together.
Hosea: He loves how you can easily talk your way out of a situation. Your smart wits can get you out of any predicament, and they're always a hoot to watch. He loves to tell people around the campfire all the crazy adventures himself and you have gotten into because you talked yourself into them. He will suggest plans to Dutch so that he can see it unfold again and again.
Kieran: Your cooking skills make him want to cry every time; he thanks the heavens he gets to eat the food you make. Growing up, he always got plain or little things to eat, so when you heard that, you made sure to cook everything under the sun to make sure he was well fed. His eyes widen at every single plate you offer, he holds your hands and thanks you repeadtly, and smiles widely while eating the whole thing.
Josiah: It has to be your fashion sense. The way you can make any outfit look good blows him away, and he loves the little details you add. He makes sure to compliment you every time, "you look absolutely beautiful, my dear". He will also take you to the tailors himself just so he can watch your mind at work. It's an honor for him to have the chance to show you off in your outfits.
#rdr2 fandom#rdr2#rdr2 community#rdr2 headcanons#sean macguire#rdr2 javier#arthur morgan#kieran duffy#charles rdr2#dutch van der linde#josiah trelawny#john marston
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Yu-Gi-Oh! Go Rush!! Episodes 109 Sub Release
Torrent
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Please make sure to read the FAQ if you have any questions.
There are very long translation notes below, so spoilers ahead.
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余 yo
Dark Meister's pronoun / The "Royal We"
I made an extra translation note appear in the episode itself as well, because initial test screenings of the episode produced some confusion on the Dark Meister's "we" pronoun.
余 (yo) is a very old, archaic pronoun that was used by shoguns or other rulers. To simulate the same regal effect it gives, our English equivalent is the "Royal We".
"The royal we (also known as the majestic plural or royal plural) is the use of a plural pronoun used by a single person who is a monarch or holds a high office to refer to themselves." (Wikipedia)
The note here is just that while the pronoun itself is plural, it does not necessarily mean that the person using the pronoun is speaking in plural. The "Royal We" is a singular pronoun basically used in place of "I" by royalty.
On pronouns, character voice, and translation
With the next episode being titled ワレのターン (ware no taan), with a heavy emphasis on ワレ (ware) being related to Zwijo, I felt like this was a very good chance to talk about this.
Given how meticulous each Go Rush character has their own way of speech and pronouns to refer to themselves, I place a lot of emphasis on making sure that some of that nuance translates to English. Of course, it's impossible to make it 1:1, and usually pronoun choice is something that's glossed over in other translated works, but it means a lot to me so I place more importance on it.
Things like Yuudias speaking without contractions (which, while it makes his speech sound weird, is the point), making some characters speak more flowery than others ("don't know" vs "know not"), etc - are all part of this interpretation of their speech patterns, pronouns, and quirks.
As a minor example, here is a list off the top of my head of all the non-conventional pronouns used by characters in Go Rush:
ソレガシ (soregashi) - Yuudias
コレガシ (koregashi) - Kuaidul
アタイ (atai) - Dinois
私 (watakushi) - Yuuna
サ (sa) - Sabyuas
Again, just some I can list off the top of my head.
Yuudias and Kuaidul's dual opposing pronouns are even more important knowing what we know now of their dynamic. Do you remember when Yuudias said this in episode 90?
In Japanese, それ (sore) and これ (kore) are placement markers meant to denote whether something is close to you or not. これ (kore) means it's close to you, while それ (sore) means it is close to someone else.
In Yuudias' case, when he uses ソレガシ (soregashi), he quite literally embodies what he meant when he said there was never a moment he thought of his body as his own. After all, he has always been referring to himself as being close to someone else, not himself.
Kuaidul is the inverse of this - he has always thought of his body as his own, and to an extent also Yuudias' body as his own. When these two characters speak, you are meant to get the sense that Yuudias and Kuaidul are speaking in regards to each other, that they are next to each other, intertwined and similar.
I know the Go Rush writers themselves also place a lot of meaning on subtle things like this. When Zwijo was first introduced, one of the writers tweeted that Zwijo's Japanese captions for his summon chant (and by extension, all of the other Velgearians) should not be written normally but instead written entirely in katakana, because they are aliens.
The implication being that Zwijo and Yuudias are 1) speaking with an accent but also 2) meant to be perceived foreign by forcing all of their summon dialogue through this "filter". It makes it way more awkward to read even if, in the end, they are just speaking Japanese. It's one of the ways they can use text to emphasize how different the Velgearians are without completely alienating (ha) their audience.
Character speech patterns are basically a special interest of mine - for example, Spectre's "preview line" in Duel Links ("yoroshiku onegaishimasu") was something I recognized as him immediately despite it being a common phrase, because he's one of the only characters that speaks in such a polite and formal way. It's that one thing he always says before a duel. It's uniquely him despite the phrase being completely ordinary. This is what character speech and character voice mean to me.
All this to say, it's impossible to translate Zwijo's ワレ (ware) in ワレのターン (ware no taan), the title of the next episode, without a bad-looking translation note at the very top. But it's undoubtedly his, and undoubtedly referring to him. It's just unfortunate this is lost in translation / won't be picked up on by people who don't know what his pronoun is or the significance of it.
I hope that gives you some insight into how the translation process for character voice works!
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late night drabbles, Part IV
Part III, His Birthday, My Present
Missing Underwear, huh?
College AU | Pervert!Norton Campbell x Reader NSFW
Content Warning: sex w/o relationship, Perverted!Norton, handjob, blowjob, getting caught, short drabble, 500 words, MNI
(A/n: i purposefully wrote it this short cuz it was all just my late night imaginations! Sorry if it doesn't make sense or ends badly :[)
smut under the cut!
Being best friends with Norton since childhood had its perks, he was always THE gentleman, helping your parents when needed, accompanying you when they were away, and listening to your endless stories about college or work stress. He even applied and went to the same university just so you wouldn’t feel lonely.
On the contrary, Norton was also such a tease, making fun at your grades, your height, and a bunch of other things. It baffled you how so many girls went crazy for him. But who could blame them? His handsome face and flirty attitude were an irresistible combination. Sometimes, his flirts left your heart racing, especially when he does it to you.
But nothing could have prepared you for this moment. You were supposed to tell him your grades were better this exam, when you walked in on him, moaning softly in his bed with your missing underwear wrapped around his erection. It was no wonder some of your undergarments had been mysteriously stained.
As he sees you, he stammered, trying to form coherent words as you quietly closed the door behind you, setting your bags down, seems like it's your turn for all the teasing~
“Don’t stop on my account,” you grinned mischievously. “or do you want any help?”
His eyes widened, shocked at your suggestion, as he hesitated for a moment before nodding unassuringly, guilt and desire mixing in his gaze. You moved closer, positioning yourself on the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed. You grasped his erection firmly, feeling the heat and pulsing need beneath your fingers. Norton whimpered lightly as you began stroking him, your touch sending shivers through his body.
"So you're the one who's been stealing my underwear, huh?" you asked, your voice teasing yet firm. Your hand moved constantly up and down his shaft, occasionally flicking your tongue over the slit of the head, looking at him lazily. “I have to clean up everything twice because of your cum stains. It’s such a hassle, you know”, you continued.
Norton’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He couldn’t deny the truth. All those nights he had stolen your underwear, fisting his cock while imagining it was you, especially when you wore those low-cut tops that revealed too much of your breasts or the tight pencil skirts on Fridays that hugged your thighs and accentuated your ass, it was all in his head, roaming rent free. He bit his lip, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a desperate hunger. "sorry, 'm so sorry," he managed to whimper out, his body shivered at how much he enjoyed this, probably a little too much too~
You smiled, leaning in to lick the bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock. "Just make sure you make it up to me," you murmured, once again looking at him with that eyes, making him melt under your touch, your breath hot against his sensitive skin. "We wouldn’t want any more of my underwear to go missing, would we?"
Norton groaned, his hips bucking slightly into your hand. The line between guilt and pleasure blurred as you continued to pleasure him, muttering more 'sorries' and 'thank yous' as your teasing words only heightening the pleasure he's feeling. Patting your head every now and then for how good you were sucking him.
Truth to be told, this was one of his silent wishes. You walking in on him pleasuring himself with the thought of you. What other erotic scenes have he been imagining?
#identity v#identity v fool's gold#idv prospector#identity v norton#idv#idv norton#idv smut#norton campbell#norton x reader
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Gabriel but underneath that armour he's bird demon howl from howls moving castle
Had to look it up cause I don’t watch anime
Approved, but without the human face
#the only time i have watched anime is when my brother forces me to lol#I’m allergic to faces don’t mind me#anyway#in my crazy mind the helmet is his face but it is also removable which doesn’t make any sense but it does to me#there might be something under there or there is nothing at all#but it’s not human#it can change based on feelings#if he can change the color of his armor then it must be part of him in some way right#and if his wings and halo can appear and disappear as well..#ok I’m getting off topic here#non voice post#ask#asks
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Alright, the jack in the box is wound, and the coherence is coming to me. Halsin and the dryad, I was talking about his response if the PC indicates that he is most comfortable after a supper large enough to induce hibernation:
"Mindless gorging...? No, that is not right. I did not realize you thought that of me."
And why this keeps catching in my mind is not necessarily what he says, but how he says it (so I am commending Dave Jones' voice acting here). The rest of Halsin's responses to incorrect answers are generally even toned and corrective; firm, usually, but not inherently overly emotional. Much like a teacher correcting a student. But this one...he sounds genuinely surprised and taken aback that the PC would even suggest that. The "no, that is not right" is even firmer on its heels. And the last part...the last part, his voice is smaller. Less forward. I would not go so far as to suggest hurt, but it is approaching that territory. It comes so fast after his firm no, that it almost sounds like something that slipped by accident. Like something that was meant to be muttered under the breath, but it slipped from him because the surprise was so organic.
Alone, it doesn't mean too much. It's a slight offense to an obviously nonfactual statement. And that's likely all it is. I'm about to read too deep into this, I am aware.
But combined with the other things spread throughout Halsin's dialogue, particularly the implication that he is otherwise used to people making commentary on his physical appearance or the physicality of his being, it suggests an extra layer of hurt. An extra layer of: "I did not expect this from you, of all people." Not quite a betrayal, but approaching one.
What makes it particularly catching, is that one of the things you are able to wrench (and I say wrench because getting Halsin to share mundane personal details about himself is a production - and it makes *sense* it's a production if a. We keep in mind that Halsin himself doesn't seem all too sure who he is beyond his preoccupation - which elves are prone to but Halsin also just has...a lot on his plate that have evidently stunted his identity formation - to the point where he even claims he was forgetting who he was, and b. If he is used to questions concerning himself and his experience leading into questions regarding his sex life or his physical activities, see: the companion banter with Wyll and Karlach, he likely...doesn't really keep ready details about himself personally on tap anymore. He's so unused to people being interested in Halsin, that he's taken aback when they are. It becomes the "In the moment, I forget everything and anything I like to do for fun" mentality - no one really cares about what I like to do anyway - if you will. He even goes so far as to joking that the PC may be a doppelganger because *why else would they want to know these things*) out of Halsin when you ask him about himself is that he has a sweet tooth. That he likes honey, and people find that amusing. He chuckles, but his face falls, evidently prepping for the PC to make a similar comment (and he attempts to beat you to the joke about that, though a PC can still call that "on the nose" to which he responds that there is little point in denying oneself if it doesn't hurt anybody - indulging isn't a bad thing). If the PC instead chooses that he should pay little attention to what others think, he gives that infamous: "sometimes I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt" line. Which implies - regardless of whether he verbalizes it or not - things in this thread hurt his feelings. Comments or assumptions about his body and his person hurt his feelings. He won't say it, but they do. The PC is likely aware of this by this point in the relationship.
Halsin does not otherwise bring up eating or food to any level of significance or directness - the sweet tooth comment was the only time (you could assume outside of canon interactions that they've had other conversations between them and that perhaps this was brought up, but we are going to base this solely in what Halsin reveals in canon). He brings up hibernation, but specifically the sleeping part of it. Nothing else.
So, the PC then potentially goes ahead and makes an assumption of him during the dryad. How'd they arrive at this conclusion, as it obviously surprises Halsin that they did? It reads, very much, that the PC is making this assumption based on the comment about his sweet tooth, his comment on indulgence, and his physicality (note: the ha ha bear and hibernation thing almost seems like an afterthought - Halsin latches *very* quickly onto the "mindless gorging" part). All things that he has shown very evident discomfort (which is ironic because the question is when he feels most comfortable) or hesitance towards (he claims there is nothing wrong with indulgence, but never seems to indulge himself beyond sex, if that. Gee, what does that remind you of?)
Halsin entrusted this individual with this information, as frivolous as it was, potentially revealed that it hurts his feelings when people make assumptions of him, and this individual then went used that information and made the assuming connection: "So, this is a big man. He said he liked sugar, so he must like to eat and indulge. It must be his favourite thing to do because look at him." I am going to essentially ignore everything else I could have possibly heard, and make a bear hibernation joke that has nothing to do with sleeping being a comfort, but emphasize the eating part.
So, yeah, he's a little taken aback - incredulous, you might say. A little hurt. Resigned, almost. Because at that point, you can make a very logical assumption that Halsin came to a very quick snap realization that perhaps this person was not so different from the others as he thought. That it always eventually comes back to that. What else was he expecting? When has it ever been any different for him?
#BG3 Musing#Halsin Posting#does this make sense i don't think it does but it's like...jumping from a - z based on assumption and you know what they say about that#note: this isn't actually this deep i am just making it this deep - also yes i'm aware it probably means none of this#i have a degree in bullshit#but this is also why halsin should have had a legitimate bear like build of a body#i understand why he didn't - but this is *verbatim* what fat individuals receive as assumptions on their person#*all the time* that oh you must overindulge yourself you must eat a lot you must you MUST#and in that thread of thought of halsin's relationship with his body#there's also something to say when halsin says 'my ears are all yours...any part of me is yours should you wish it'#because he *begins* by offering his sympathy and understanding...but follows it up with 'but if i am more valuable to you in this way#then that's fine too - i'm used to that'#almost parallels (inadvertently) astarion's:#'i think i'll enjoy having halsin around not for his wit or wisdom he'll just make an excellent shield if we're attacked'#he's self aware#and in regards to how halsin sees his body as a separate entity - a. body dysmorphia and b. i don't think he truly does#halsin claims he sees his body as a vessel to serve nature and wrinkles his nose at vanity - but i feel there is enough old hurt in him#that this can never be true of him even is he so desperately wishes it was#does he have a level of confidence in himself? obviously he does - but it is marred - it's an exchange#there's always going to be that little voice in the back
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