#I apologize if there is any bad grammar or misspelled words
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The Gift of Immortality
DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader
GENDER-NEUTRAL READER × DRAGON BALL CHARACTERS
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Description/Information: The Gift of Immortality Chart/Project
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WARNINGS: Mentions of BLOOD and DEATH/DYING
Prologue - BIRTH | 1
❝Every time I die, this is the vision that greets my eyes, and every time I think, “How lovely that sunlight which I forsook so many centuries ago…”❞
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Sorrow.
Witness countless lives of your loved ones dying within your hands, yet you can't do anything about it.
Your friends that you have made over years and years, and you witness them die from old age, diseases, mishaps, and being slain.
And your lovers…
Pain.
Your comrades die in battle with you, fighting for your people, fighting to save innocents, fighting for justice despite that.
You sacrificed your heart that endures the pain that builds up each day and time. To witness the horrors and the pain of being slaughtered over and over again.
You sacrificed your mind to endure the insanity driven by everything from the pain.
Fear.
You fear losing everything and getting too close to people, and you have to stay your distance because you can't handle the heartache of losing a loved one.
You fear they would betray you, being used, being mistreated, and captured again.
Fearing your life of being hunted down like an animal for something you couldn't control.
You fear that you will lose yourself once you go insane and never come back.
[Story/plot made by theunk0wn-0]
Confusion.
You are lost and confused, not knowing why you were like this. Why are you given such faith?
Does God or life hate you? You had no answers.
You are confused about why you can't die, move on, age, or get sick, and why you can't rest or have peace. You can't live a normal life.
Why would the world treat you like a thing instead of a person?
Frustration.
You are frustrated you cannot have and live a normal life, to grow old and die in peace. You can't take a break, you can't rest, you have to keep fighting.
You are frustrated when you find the right person in life; they die in your hands, in front of you. You have to keep hiding, staying in the shadows, yet each day is more difficult to disappear.
Anger.
You are in anger about how the world treats you, how people treat you, how you can't move on, you can't die, you can't have a family. You want to let out the rage, but you keep it contained.
Angry about how you were born like this without knowing the answers, without a single clue what your purpose was to live.
Was it to live to suffer? Was it to save people? Was it to wander the Earth? Was it to protect the world? Perhaps all of the above.
There is no one out there to understand you but yourself.
You are truly alone in this world.
The world was a tapestry of raw, untamed beauty, painted with the earthy hues of rugged landscapes and untamed wilderness. Trees, giants of a bygone era, stretched their gnarled limbs towards the heavens, their bark rough to the touch and adorned with mosses and lichens. The air held an earthy scent, a heady mixture of damp soil and the fragrance of wild flora that danced upon the breeze.
The sound of babbling streams wove through the air, their crystal-clear waters whispering tales of ages past as they wound their way around mossy rocks and pebbles, a symphony of nature's melodies that harmonized with the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of unseen critters.
As the sun descended behind the horizon, a canvas of fiery hues painted the sky, gradually giving way to the unfolding blanket of night. Above, the celestial tapestry revealed itself, adorned with countless stars that glittered like precious gems. Amid this serene backdrop, the crackling of a distant fire and the rhythmic pounding of stone against stone reverberated through the tranquil stillness of the night.
A human woman sat upon the grassy ground, silhouetted by the flickering flames of the fire. Her figure, adorned with streaks of soil and splotches of blood, was shrouded in tattered remnants of clothing, yet she seemed unperturbed by her disheveled appearance.
Engrossed in her task, she diligently worked on fashioning a weapon. Each strike of the rock against the spike stone resonated in the night, the clinks and clanks harmonizing as she honed her spear, preparing it for the next day's hunt.
However, amidst this focused work, the rustling of nearby bushes abruptly disrupted the tranquility. The crackling fire seemed to grow louder in the tense silence. Her keen [Eye Color] eyes narrowed, scanning the darkness beyond the bushes as they continued to sway and rustle; her hand instinctively tightened around her weapon, poised to confront whatever creature lurked in the shadows.
"[Mother's Name], seize your weapon. Don't strike your devotee, my beloved."
The commanding yet familiar voice shattered the tension, carrying a trace of bitterness that resonated through the night air. Hearing this voice, your mother eased her grip on the spear, lowering it slowly as the figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the warm embrace of the fire's glow.
Illuminated by the dancing flames, he bore the appearance of a man, with dark wavy brown hair cascading above and skin as pure and pale as freshly fallen snow.
Your mother had always found this man intriguing, not only for his unique appearance but for his eyes. In a world where eyes typically bore shades of black, brown, green, or blue, his crimson-red eyes were a rarity, captivating and mysterious in their intensity.
"Ares, you're back," your mother murmured, a mix of calmness and admiration lacing her words, each syllable a tender whisper that carried across the clearing. Her voice was gentle yet resonant.
As Ares, her beloved, drew closer, the shimmer of his golden collar armbands caught the fire's light, illuminating his attire—flowing black pants cinched at the waist by a glistening golden sash.
"Apologies, I took longer than expected," replied Ares, his crimson eyes softening as he closed the distance, his gaze locking onto hers. Settling beside her, he felt the dampness of the grass tickle his bare feet.
"I've searched for you since dawn. Where have you been?" Your mother's tone, initially calm, contradicted her stern words. Her eyes betrayed her worry, flickering with a mix of emotions—care, concern, and a touch of relief upon seeing him safe.
"I had urgent matters to discuss with Whis. It couldn't wait," Ares explained. His voice carried a hint of urgency mingled with a touch of regret; his eyes flickered with fear for a brief moment before he relaxed.
"I understand. But next time, please tell me. I scoured the woods, fearing the worst," her words carried a motherly concern that she couldn't conceal. Ares let out a hearty laugh, rich, and echoed through the woods, carrying a sense of amusement that reverberated in the night air. His amusement twinkled in his crimson eyes as he gazed into her [Eye Color] orbs.
"Do you truly think these woods pose a threat to me? Fear not, I am far more powerful," Ares replied, a confident smirk gracing his lips, his eyes holding a mischievous spark.
"Regardless of your strength, I'll protect you until the end of days," your mother declared, her voice carrying an unyielding resolve and a depth of emotion and affection towards him. Ares' blunt retort carried a hint of admiration, "Another reason why I fell in love with you, woman."
Her soft and tender smile reflected the depth of her affection for this enigmatic man. Her warm chuckle mingled with the gentle rustling of leaves in the canopy above, a symphony of nature.
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4 YEARS LATER | AGE: 4
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The haunting cries echoed through the dense woods, disrupting the serene harmony of nature. Startled birds took flight, their wings flapping urgently as they fled their nests. My mother's face, once radiant, was now streaked with tears. Her eyes, usually warm and comforting, were now swollen and red, her tears traced their path down her warm, reddened cheeks.
I felt an overwhelming sadness clutching at my heart, unable to understand her pain. She enveloped me in her arms, their warmth a comforting shield against the chill that the cries had sent through the air. She struggled to speak through choked sobs, her voice quivering with each uttered word.
"I'm sorry, darling. I don’t want to cry in front of you. But I have you..."
Her words trailed off, swallowed by sobs, as her embrace tightened around me. I reached out with my small hands, wanting to help her, and in that gesture, a glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes. Her trembling hand found mine, the texture of her rough, warm palm a reassuring touch as she gently caressed it.
"I still have you… [First Name]," she whispered, her voice barely audible amidst her hiccups and sobs. Her gaze, filled with a mixture of hope and melancholy, locked with mine. Her hand, which cradled mine, continued to caress it gently.
"Don't be like your father or me. Be strong yet kind," she pleaded between hiccups, her brown eyes reflecting a bittersweet longing. Her touch moved from my hand to my hair, her fingers tenderly stroking my locks as her voice softened into a fragile murmur.
"Don't let emotions cloud your judgment. Be clever yet compassionate, [First Name]." Her sobs mingled with the natural symphony of the forest—the rustling leaves, the distant calls of birds.
"I wish your father could witness your growth… I wish fate hadn't snatched him away," she lamented, her voice cracking with pain as I stumbled over my words, trying to comprehend while my confusion surfaced.
"Father?"
"Yes, your father," she confirmed gently, her touch lingering on my hair, offering solace as she grieved. Confused and overwhelmed, I remained nestled in her embrace, allowing her to hold and comfort me, though I couldn't grasp the situation.
At that moment, I was just a child.
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7 YEARS LATER | AGE: 11
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"For this is how you hunt," my mother's firm voice guided me as I stood by her side, eyes fixed on the fallen animal at our feet. The deer lay still, my mother's makeshift spear protruding from its side, blood seeping slowly from the deep wound. Her hands carefully gripped the spear, extracting it from the deer's body, crimson blood seeping from the deep wound.
"Use everything, down to its bones and skin. A hunter uses everything; this is how we respect the dead."
Her touch upon the deer's neck spoke volumes, a quiet acknowledgment of its life slipping away.
"We share goals, the animals and us. Survival is our common thread. As much as I cherish them, we must feed ourselves. We respect their sacrifice by ensuring it's swift and painless."
With a swift motion, she ended the deer's suffering, a snap that echoed through the woods, the fading light in its eyes; its once rhythmic breaths gave way to silence as death claimed it. "Come, help me carry this," she beckoned, and my heart surged with eagerness and hunger.
We had secured food for the day, and my eyes flickered with a mix of joy and anticipation, hungry not only for the meal but for the warmth of my mother's cooking. Together, we dragged the deer, its blood painting a trail on the grass, marking our path back to our den.
Our steps echoed as we made our way to our den, the cave's cool embrace enveloping us. The trickling sound of water inside greeted us as the sunlight, filtered through the cave's mouth, illuminated our path. The scent of damp earth mingled with the tang of blood, an earthy yet strong aroma that lingered in the air.
The weight of the dead animal strained against my grasp, letting out grunts that echoed within the cavern. Without my mother's help, carrying this load would have been difficult. We ventured deeper into the cave, finally setting our prized bounty upon the cold, stony ground.
"[First Name], could you gather fish from the lake? I'll prepare the food," my mother spoke, her words a gentle directive. She handed me her makeshift spear, a tool crafted for the hunt. As our eyes met, a sense of pride sparked within her gaze, her lips curving into a soft smile. With a nod, I accepted the spear, returning her smile with one of my own.
Snatching up the makeshift basket woven from leaves and twigs, I dashed out of our den, my bare feet navigating the terrain with ease. As my bare feet pounded against the ground, the crunch of leaves and the sensation of soft grass, soil, and scattered pebbles underfoot greeted my senses.
I felt the softness of the grass and soil between my toes, punctuated by the occasional touch of the gravel. Though accustomed to walking barefoot, I had grown numb to the pain. The melody of the flowing river and the rush of the nearby waterfall reached my ears, their soothing sounds interweaving with the rustling of leaves overhead.
Venturing deeper into the woods, the sounds intensified, guiding my journey toward the river. With each step, my pace slowed, my breaths steadying. I approached the bright, glistening river, sunlight dancing upon its surface. With a tightening grip on my mother's spear, I maneuvered onto the scattered boulders, inching closer to the deeper section of the river.
Carefully, I positioned myself, scanning the crystal-clear water for signs of movement. A flicker of movement caught my eye, and in a swift motion, I plunged the spear into the water. The sound of splashing and flopping resonated, signaling I had caught it. As I withdrew the spear, a cacophony of splashes and thrashes echoed as the fish wriggled at the end of my spear.
With nimble fingers, I plucked the catch from the spear, adding it to the woven basket beside me. Again and again, I pierced the water, each successful strike the basket steadily filling with the day's sustenance; I couldn't resist the temptation for one more catch.
My senses attuned to the river's rhythm, searching for more prey amidst the gentle currents. Then, a stroke of luck—or fate. My gaze locked onto a salmon, which they were infrequent in this river. However, it was just out of reach of my spear.
Pulsating with excitement and determination, I took a risk, inching closer to the edge of the boulder that provided me safety from the deeper currents below.
So close, but just out of reach.
With a hopeful breath, I extended the spear, but in my eagerness, my hand slipped from the boulder's edge. Time seemed to slow as panic coursed through my veins, my heart pounding with fear and realization of my position. The world slowed to a crawl as I teetered on the edge, unable to grasp anything for support.
My fingers lost their grip, and a gasp escaped my lips, swiftly followed by a resounding splash as I descended into the river's icy embrace. The chill water engulfed me, slapping against my skin like a harsh awakening. Panic surged as I flailed, unable to swim against the relentless pull of the current. My lungs screamed for air, my limbs thrashing in the abyss of the river.
Each moment intensified the burning sensation in my chest, the relentless pressure of drowning bearing down on me. Desperation clawed at me, and despite my efforts to break the surface, I sank deeper into the dark abyss.
My vision blurred, the world darkening around me as the burning ache in my chest intensified. The suffocating weight of water surrounded me, and despair washed over me like the relentless tide.
Was this death? Am I... dying?
Darkness enveloped my senses, a numbing sensation spreading through my weakening body. I felt myself slipping away, renouncing the icy embrace of death.
Yet, an inexplicable light pierced the darkness, a flicker of hope amid the bleakness, and with a sudden surge of awareness, my eyes shot open, startled by the sudden influx of air into my lungs.
Confusion clouded my thoughts as I grappled with the shock of being alive, if only for a fleeting moment. Before I could comprehend the situation, the burning sensation returned, water flooding back into my lungs.
Frantic, I thrashed and struggled against the relentless tide, but it was futile. Each awakening brought a brief respite, a cruel tease before the cycle plunged me back into the drowning abyss. My lungs screamed for air, my vision blurred, and my body weakened as the cycle repeated mercilessly, trapping me in a loop of drowning, fading, and inexplicably returning to life.
Each gasp for air was met with the relentless invasion of water, intensifying the burning torment within me. This torment repeated itself, an agonizing cycle of drowning, brief resuscitation, and plunging back into the suffocating darkness.
Disarray intertwined with despair as I grappled with the inexplicable cycle of death and resurrection. How long had this torment lasted? I lost count of the times I resurfaced, only to be pulled back into the watery abyss.
With each resurgence, hope flickered briefly before being extinguished by the suffocating embrace of the sea. The fear of never escaping this torment gnawed at my soul, leaving me trapped in an endless loop of drowning, reviving, and drowning once more, a cycle that seemed to have no end.
My body, weakened by the relentless assaults of the sea, had succumbed to darkness countless times, but as light pierced the veil of my consciousness once more, I opened my eyes with a desperate gasp, taking in a precious lungful of air.
The burning sunlight assaulted my vision, accompanied by the symphony of splashes, the rushing river, and the distant roar of a nearby waterfall.
"Wake up! [First Name]! Please!"
The desperate plea reverberated in my ears as I fought against a fit of coughing; my chest heaved, wracked by a fit of coughs, each one a reminder of the recent ordeal. The memory of the ordeal left me trembling, a knot of anguish tightening in my throat, raw with the acrid taste of seawater.
Was that real?
I couldn't bring myself to believe it. The mere thought left me trembling, my hands quivering uncontrollably, as I grappled with the terrifying uncertainty of what I had experienced. I couldn't think of drinking water the same way ever again, haunted by the vivid recollections of the ordeal I had endured.
A warm, rough hand cupped my cheek, drawing my attention amidst the chaos of my thoughts. Familiar [Eye Color] eyes met mine - my mother's gaze, a mixture of dread and hope swirling within their depths.
"You're alive!"
Her voice, tinged with relief and disbelief, seeped into my consciousness, stirring emotions I struggled to comprehend; my body trembled, still shaken by the lingering chill of the water's embrace. Drenched and disoriented, I found solace in my mother's warm embrace, her attempt to soothe and comfort me amidst the storm raging within.
My heart raced against my ribcage, each breath felt heavier, a desperate attempt to grasp onto existence. The fear lingered, a shadow threatening to engulf me once more.
That moment had etched an indelible mark upon my soul, a traumatic encounter with what I later understood as my first brush with 'death.' I couldn't comprehend it then, couldn't fathom if what I experienced was normal or a haunting aberration.
In an era where knowledge was scarce, especially during the Stone Age, such puzzling occurrences were mysteries that eluded understanding.
Years later, I found my answer.
The day my mother passed in her sleep; I laid her to rest beneath the same tree where my father found his final slumber. Wildflowers adorned their graves, a silent tribute to lives well-lived, marking their passage into the afterlife. The weight of grief settled upon me like an unyielding burden.
In my eighties, I stood amidst the burial, grappling with the weight of their absence and the fleeting nature of my existence. Witnessing my mother's gradual decline had been a silent agony. Her once towering stature had diminished, her skin weathered and worn, her eyesight fading, and her strength waning until she could no longer join me in the hunt or even take a simple walk, leaving me to navigate the challenges of survival alone.
A pang of heartache pierced through me, tears welling up as the realization of my newfound solitude settled in. Questions plagued my thoughts—why hadn't I suffered the same fate? Why did I not succumb to the same aging, losing my sight or strength?
Was it even normal?
My mother had never questioned my perpetual youthfulness, nor had she explained what was natural or not. It left me to grapple with the uncertainty of my existence. As I grieved her loss, I carried on with the daily routine she had taught me—gathering food, honing tools, hunting, and preparing for the harshness of winter. Yet, amidst the familiarity of these tasks, an overwhelming sense of loneliness crept in, a void that grew deeper with each passing day, week, and year.
The confines of our territory felt increasingly suffocating. The same den that had sheltered my mother and me became a haunting reminder of my solitude. The temptation to explore beyond the boundaries gnawed at me, a desire to venture into the unknown, to seek the company of others like me. Fear tethered me to the familiar; the uncertainty of what lay beyond the horizon held me captive.
Would I ever return if I go?
The longing to discover the secrets of the world outside clashed with the fear of the unknown. The resolve to seek answers simmered within me, a determination to unravel the mysteries beyond my sheltered life.
The day arrived as I gathered provisions, my instincts honed from years of hunting; I stood by the riverbank, eyes fixated on the unexplored expanse that lay beyond.
Fresh air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath, my gaze tracing the currents and the uncharted land on the opposite bank. Stepping onto scattered boulders, my heart raced with each careful stride, cautious not to lose my footing. Finally, my bare feet touched the soft, damp grass on the other side.
The thrill of the unknown surged through me as I embarked on this solitary adventure, a journey seeking answers that would unknowingly lead me down paths of horrible events.
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Finished: December 31, 2023
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NEXT CHAPTER: Prologue - SALVATION| 2
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Link to the book [Wattpad]:
The Gift of Immortality
DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader
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#by_theunkn0wn-0#The Gift of Immortality#dragon ball x reader#dragon ball characters x reader#reader insert#x reader#x y/n#x gender neutral y/n#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader#gn reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral mc#gender neutral y/n#fanfiction#The Gift of Immortality-prologue#I apologize if there is any bad grammar or misspelled words#don't come after me#BE PREPARED FOR SADNESS#It gets better.... or not >:D#harem? maybe ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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hii,i love the way you write and i’m totally obsessed with your blog<3,can i request skz reaction to reader not having a very supportive and caring family? thank you anyway,love youu
Skz comforting you for not having a supportive family
notes: thank you sm!! I really appreciate your words, i really hope you like this 💗english is not my first language so apologies for any misspelling or grammar. i hope u like it !! :))
type: narrated text
genre: angst w fluff
WARNINGS: a little bit angsty but some fluff at the end, let me know if you'd like to be tagged !! :))
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𓆙 Chris Bang
"Sorry, you weren't supposed to see that, Chris."
"Hey, lovely, don't worry."
"I'm serious, Chris. I don't know why my family is like this; it seems like they don't like anything I do." You sat on the couch while taking off your high shoes.
"Don't say that, dear. They might not be the most helpful people, but you don't have to feel bad about it. I'm here, and I'll always be here for you, my dear," he said as he sat beside you and put an arm around your shoulders.
"Thank you, Chris. That's what I needed to hear. Seriously, you're the only one I can count on," you gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"There's nothing to thank me for, lovely. I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you so much," he returned the kiss.
"I love you more, sweetheart."
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𓆙 Lee Minho
"What's wrong with them?"
"Minho, calm down, they've always been like this."
"And that's not right, my love. Even if they're your parents, they should respect you."
"I know, but you can't do anything to change them, Minho. Relax."
"You can't let them keep treating you like this, dear. Whatever happens, I'll always be here with you," he hugged you by the shoulders.
"Thank you, Minho. I didn't plan on going back there anyway. If I have you by my side, that's all I need," you gave him a tender kiss. He simply returned it and smiled at the end of the kiss.
"I love you, never forget that, dear."
"I love you too, handsome."
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𓆙 Seo Changbin
"It's not fair, not at all. Let's go back; I don't care if they're your cousins. You should've said something; that was very disrespectful of them."
"Binnie, it's okay! They've always been like this; you don't have to get upset."
"THEY'VE ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS?? THAT'S WORSE." Apparently, this made him three times more upset.
"Love, calm down. You shouldn't have even paid them any attention; they're disrespectful jerks. But there's not much to do. You can't change people like that. Let's just go home and watch some movies or go for dinner, okay?"
"But if we hang out with your cousins again, I won't hold back, okay? They don't deserve respect if they don't give it."
"Yes, my love. Relax now. Come on, I love you a lot. Thank you for protecting me," you gave him a small kiss on the hand, which made him blush a bit.
"I love you too, my dear."
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𓆙 Hwang Hyunjin
"If you don't cry, I'll cry because your mom is really mean to you," he said sounding sad.
"It's always been like this, you know? My brother is a big favorite of our parents, not me. They always wanted a boy, so there wasn't much love left for me when my little brother was born. But it's not his fault," you sighed softly at the end.
"Now I'm going to cry, my dear. You deserve everything good, and I promise, I'll give you everything when I have the chance," he stopped you on the path to give you a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead.
"I love you a lot, Hyune. Thanks for being here for me. Don't hate my little brother, I really love him."
"There's no reason to hate your brother, sweetheart, or your parents. They're just not my favorite people," he chuckled a bit.
"They're not my favorite people either, don't worry."
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𓆙 Han Jisung
"Sorry, Hannie. My sister has always acted like this. She believes she's the best and no one can be better than her. Also, sorry for how she behaved. I'm really sorry, Hannie."
"Don't say sorry. You already told me about this, and I prepared myself mentally. Don't worry, dear," you laughed because you noticed I didn't take it too seriously.
"Thanks for standing up for me, love. No one had ever done that for me."
"You're mine; it's the least I can do. You know I love you, and I'll always be here for you. I'm your special person, and you're my princess," you laughed heartily. What he said was very sweet, but in the end, you like him, and you like everything he says.
"Haha, don't act silly. Stop saying such things."
"You turned red," he teased while giving you a little kiss on the forehead.
"Be quiet" was all you could say back.
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𓆙 Lee Felix
"With all respect, what the fuck? Love, how did you grow up with a family like that? I feel sorry for you, my little angel."
"It was hard, yes, but you learn to handle it. Don't worry, my love. I've been to therapy," you lightened the mood with that last comment, giving a playful wink. He simply laughed lightly.
"Your difficult experiences, your jokes?"
"Exactly, but seriously, I don't want you to take everything they say too seriously. I learned that not everything they tell me is true; sometimes they say things just to bother you."
"But still, my angel, what they do is not right. Every time you think about going back, you'll have to take me with you. I need to protect you," you simply nodded as you hugged him tightly.
"I love you, princess."
"And I love you too, Lixie."
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𓆙 Kim Seungmin
"I'm going to act like this never happened." He said jokingly
"Please, how embarrassing, I'm really sorry."
"Don't feel embarrassed; it's not even your fault. They don't know what they're talking about, dear."
"I don't know, Seung, they've always been like this. They make me feel so bad."
"Don't think too much about it. You are a talented, special, and beautiful person. You deserve everything in this world. Don't let them bring you down," he turned to you with eyes full of love.
"No matter how long it takes to make you believe that, I'll be with you to the end. I love you even if I don't show it much."
"Thank you, Minnie. I love you too, more than you can imagine," you gave him a small kiss.
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𓆙 Yang Jeongin
"Forgive my aunts; they're nosy gossipers."
"Don't worry, love. I don't take it personally," he made that little joke so you wouldn't get too stressed.
"But they're rude. It seems like they only care about money, and I want you to know that I didn't fall for you because of that. I've never thought about dating you for your money. They're just jealous because they don't even have a husband," he chuckled lightly, finding it amusing how your aunts were bothering you.
"Relax, my love. I won't listen to what they say about me, okay? I know the kind of person you are, and you're totally worth it, sweetheart. Thanks for being with me all this time. I love you more than you can imagine. Next time, I'll stand up for you, alright?"
"Yes, love. Thanks for being there for me even though those rude ones started saying things. I love you so much. Stay with me forever," you smiled sweetly.
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Tags !!!
@albaficaslover
@damselettism
#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz reactions#skz x reader#skz series#skz bang chan#skz changbin#skz hyunjin#skz angst#skz felix#skz seungmin#skz jeongin#skz minho#skz au#skz#skz fluff#stray kids#skz smau#skz drabbles
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strawberries & cigarettes — teaser.
pairing: haechan x reader.
genre: angst, smut.
content: high school au, enemies to lovers, boyband haechan, they're on a play, there the mention of shakespeare, haechan's a dick, reader's a dick, a lot of cussing, jisung's a sweetheart. lowercase on purpose.
summary: the school's play is in two days and you're running out of time to put everything together since your known enemy lee haechan decided that the rehearsal day was the perfect day to release a launch party for his new album.
taglist: open — closed
a/n: i plan to write 15k words for this fic (at best) and release it once it's done. i need to clarify that this is a draft from one of the novels that i'm currently writing in spanish. so this is basically a piece of that. let me know any misspelled word or bad grammar!! <3
masterlist — req
full fic !!
“yn, what are you doing here?” jeno looked at you quite confused when you approached him. like being at a teen party was one of the last places he'd find you. honestly, he was right. “ah, i don't know,” you muttered, exaggerating each word. “perhaps looking for answers as to why my characters are at a party and not in the auditorium.” you watched jeno nod slowly, though he didn't look at all guilty of that recrimination. “i apologize,” he said, “but since you're here, you can stay. i'll make sure to dedicate one of our songs to you as a form of apology.” and you would have given in at that moment and place, except for one: you didn't like rock, and two: someone caught jeno's attention.
“hey, jeno!” you froze hearing someone call romeo through the music. jeno waved to some point behind you, coincidentally, where you had seen haechan start a conversation with a couple of girls talking a few seconds ago. “this isn't over, romeo,” you threatened, ready to leave before discovering if the person coming your way was your enemy haechan.
as you turned, fleeing, your face was stamped on a smooth, yet hard surface. you caressed your nose, looking up at the rest of the chest with which you hit your septum, meeting a pair of eyes that seemed to drop sparkles. “oh shit, are you okay?” he asked, looking concerned. “wonderfully,” you hissed. the boy stood up with a spasm, “i'm really sorry.” sure he does. he looked at you, longer than usual, before reacting as if he had remembered something. “wait, romeo?” he suddenly asked, pointing at jeno, looking for an answer.
“mmm…” jeno nodded, “we're in the drama club,” he explained. the star-eyed boy whistled, “and i guess you're juliet," he said, in your direction. “you guessed wrong,” you murmured. even though that answer would have been enough to stop people from talking to you, the boy found it funny. his laugh was heard above the music, and therefore, jeno started laughing too. and consequently to that, you too. “she's our director,” jeno explained. the boy nodded several times, weighing the black-haired boy's words. “impressive,” he said at the end, “that's like…” he added, using his hands to simulate an imaginary ladder, raising his hand above his head, “very impressive. my congratulations.”.
“thanks,” you replied, suddenly feeling weird. no one had reacted like that. as if they took for granted that it was obvious it was impressive. the starboy shrugged, like it was nothing. as if it was easy for him to flatter people spontaneously. “wait, if you're the director, that would make you…”.
“shakespeare,” you said in unison. genuinely smiling was not common for you. you could notice it; jeno had to look at you twice to make sure that you were indeed smiling. on the other hand, starboy…, he must have thought that you smiled often, and that you went to parties every day, and that jeno was your friend. would he still talk to you if he knew the truth? “have you seen renjun?” you asked jeno, remembering why you had come. you watched him think before his gaze was lost in the ocean of people. his eyes widening slightly as he found something in the crowd. he then pointed his finger behind the star-eyed boy, and your gaze followed the route, until you fell on renjun, talking to haechan, a few meters from you.
and as if your gaze could feel, haechan returned your gaze, at first absentmindedly. without recognizing you, until you could mentally feel how his brain went to work and alerted him to look a second time. remembering him that you weren't allowed to his party. however, you reacted automatically faster than him. grabbing the boy by the shoulder, he instinctively leaned forward, within reach. your face moving closer to his, lips going to his lips.
first, there was no reaction. just his lips brushing against yours. your body completely tense from having been so close to finding benvolio. when a sudden movement caused your thoughts to shut up. the boy's lips began to move on top of yours.
he was kissing you.
your hands still on his shoulders, and his hand going to one of them, taking it together and guiding it to his neck, before sliding out of your hand, onto your shoulder, resting on your back. drawing you closer.
his eyelashes tickling your cheeks. and his lips, soft, kissing yours. slowly. your head tilting to the sides when you changed position. the spell of a kiss being broken without warning, when his lips moved away from yours. and your eyes widening quickly, to see haechan take him by the shoulder and pull him away from you. and finally, his murderous gaze falling on you.
haechan shot jeno a look before taking your arm and dragging you towards the exit. you tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but the boy was pretty strong, and his grip was pretty hard on your arm. “i can find the way out on my own, idiot,” you hissed, trying to get rid of him to no avail. “you're an asshole, haechan. i want you to know that.” you continued to rant as he led you to the exit, “motherfucker, you always have to mess things up. oh, i hate you,” you blurted out, seeing that they had passed the exit.
“the exit is that way by…”
“shut the fuck up,” he hissed, leading them into a desolate hallway. he then dropped you between the wall and him. he looked quite angry, his hands were clenching and unclenching into fists, and his breathing was rough. his eyes finally looking at you, burning with rage. “what the hell are you doing?” he released. “shit, are you like this because i snuck in your part…?,” you said, before he interrupted you, “what were you doing kissing mark?” he asked. you were afraid that he would spit fire at any moment.
without noticing it until that moment, your bodies were quite close. your agitated breaths from the discussion entwined in the air in the middle of each other. his gaze trying to pierce your gaze. so close you could smell his cologne, mingling with his marlboro breath. suddenly glancing to his lips, as if you could visualize the cigarette between them. reacting quickly, and cursing for what it looked like you were doing, returning to meet his eyes, only to find that he was doing the same. only you never smoked.
to be continued
#nct smut#nct 127 smut#haechan smut#nct dream smut#nct au#haechan fic#nct fic#donghyuck x reader#lee donghuyck smut#haechan angst#nct angst#nct dream angst#nct dream fic#♡haechan
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I just read that ask about reading comprehension anon and yes I agree with you. Though common mistakes that I so often see in people nowadays are homophones, ex. "your" and "you're". It's like the most basic, how the heck do you not know the difference. I learned that in elementary school and English isn't my native nor first language (though it is my second language). I suck at writing and speaking and spelling B, but at least I double-check to a dictionary whenever I write in English to make sure I didn't misspell it.
Also I just want to say that, one of my favorite about your fics is your writing. I know it's not easy and I admire that about you as a "fanfic" writer to put that much effort. I find it pretty obvious when a writer just explicitly tells you everything compare to the ones who wants you to immerse yourself into the story to figure things out. I've read fics that kind of just dump words to it make look long, like... 5k+ words, but doesn't progress the story. Though I think they call it a filler, but I don't think a filler can be 5 chapters long (that should only be 1 chp, right?). I really wish I can tell some writers in this fandom to maybe read fics like yours as a research in writing, but I guess that's rude and offensive. To the very least I'd like to correct their typos, but not many accept that either. I hope one day I can write like you. I've once tried writing my own fanfic, but turns out it just looks nice in my head. Now I only read fics and draw my own story in my head from theirs. Like, I always fantasize my own story of your fic, especially lowlander and meadow. I apologize for the long ask.
TL;DR: your writing is amazing and I'd like you to know that. I'll always love your fics and will always come back to read them. Thank you for writing and sharing such good fics
I do put so much effort haha, possibly too much effort?? But to me fanfic writing isn't any different than any other writing I'd do, I'm still telling a story and engaging with characters and pushing to improve my skills!
I went to college for writing and found it icnredibly frustrating how bad basic grammar and spelling were for my peers. In workshops we'd spend all the time correcting mistakes like that instead of talking about the contents. I pushed my college to require a freshman seminar or first-year class on English but they never did, which felt like such a miss to me.
Filler chapters are interesting, I've learned how to "use" them. Sometimes you do need time to just pass in the story to get from point A to B, but if they aren't serving plot, they should be serving something else --I tend to use them for character or relationship building, or to give readers a break from a certain tone or theme, sometimes it's world building. I also tell myself to just get to the point, if I'm bored and feel like this bit is a waste of time, how can I expect readers to take the time? I think both of these approaches have improved my writing. I also don't need to add length haha I need to do the opposite, my stories are soooo long!
"I really wish I can tell some writers in this fandom to maybe read fics like yours as a research in writing, but I guess that's rude and offensive." This gave me a good laugh haha. I don't imagine any one would appreciate being told that but I am flattered, especially since I do approach my fanfics with as much effort as I would any other writing 😊
As for writing, I hope you continue to do it if it brings you joy. You don't need to worry about the output! In the first place, writing is a skill ilke any other and the more you do it, the better you get. But second of all, it's a closely guarded secret, but I think most of us never feel like what's on paper is as good as what was in our heads 😂 I certainly never have been fully satisfied but I decided to share anyway and I'm very glad I did!
Thank you for the long ask, it was a pleasure to read 🥰
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The Break In (Batman x reader) SMUT Part III
Summary: Bruce revealed his face after sucking his fingers clean of your juices. Since then you have been constantly looking over your shoulder pandering when the next time he will appear. But this time as Bruce Wayne?…or Batman?…
Subject: Mini smut, sexual intercourse, MATURE CONTENT +18, soft sex kinda thing?
Play talk, dominance,
Characters: Bruce Wayne x Reader (Catwoman), Falcone
Words: 1.2k
Notes: It’s time to soften the scene… a little lol…
Part 1
Part 2
MISSPELLING/GRAMMAR APOLOGIES
“Why haven’t you set up the bar meeting that’s planned for tonight?” Falcone gleamed at you under his sunglasses. “There’s a lot of deals that need to be made and I can’t afford a bad environment to persuade them.” You pick up the empty glasses off of his brown wooden desk. Even though you had hatred for him and tried to cover your emotions, you still felt the control he held over you. Between Falcone and Bruce Wayne you now knew of, there was too much stress that boiled your mind. Nothing scared you about these men however, Gotham has their ways of tearing you down regardless if you tried to be righteous or not.
“ I have no excuses, I promise everything will be perfect by then” You gave him a fakest smile before turning around out of his office. “It better be or else this will be coming out of your tips tonight doll!” And just like usual the threats never stop.
The night club was booming with life and Falcone was satisfied with the party set up for tonight. Everything was going as planned for tonight, nothing out of the ordinary. You were eager just to go back home to figure out who exactly was Bruce Wayne. You knew of him, but what exactly propelled him to become Batman? I guess the same reason why you too, roam the city in a ridiculous cat costume. He was a hurt soul searching for meaning in a life that was taken from him. You wanted to shout from the rooftops to tell everyone that it was yet so obvious that it was him all along, but what good would that do? If anything it just hurt him even more, and destroyed whatever “good” there was left in this god forsaken city. You huffed to yourself and looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Since when did you start caring about rich people?” You whispered to yourself.
“You shouldn’t just judge people by their wealth” a voice woken from behind you. Bruce leaned up against the wall with a black baseball cap on and with all dark clothes. “And you should stop scaring people,” you snapped back. He lifted his chin to get a good look at you. He carefully chooses his words next.
“I’m glad you haven’t told anyone yet which I suspected you wouldn’t, because I know your own secrets.” You opened your mouth to speak but he raised his hand. “But they are safe with me, because the difference between me and you is I know when things are more complicated than they are. Nothing is ever black and white.”
He locked the bathroom door and approached you with his darkened colored eyes. The bags under his eyes were deep but seeing the real “Batman” was still surreal to you. You almost wanted to faint because of everything that has happened this past week but you had to keep your composure. “I mean my secrets are the same as yours but the only difference is I don’t have money like you to stop me from seeking into a bigger hole” you rubbed your forehead and placed your hands on each side of his arms. You hated that you grew to love him because this only made things even more complicated for both of us. Bruce leaned his head against yours. He seemed less tense when he was not wearing his suit. His body language was more open toward affection in public.
“This has to stop.” you looked into his eyes trying to convey desperation. You couldn’t keep whatever this was with him any longer. One minute you lusted over him, but the next instance you wanted to hide from the damage he may cause in your own life (if anyone finds out you were involved with him).
Bruce wanted nothing more but to hold you and fix whatever was happening in your life. He knew exactly what your motives were in this awful place, but he knew you were right for once. All he wanted was to see your face one last time. He couldn’t stay away from the feeling he felt every time he was near you. If this was the only way he could see you, he was willing to take that chance, as long as he had the upper hand in Gotham city.
Bruce leaned his mouth against your ear, and nuzzled your sweet scent. His hot breath blew against your neck feeling every nerve of your body spark. “I can’t stay away from you” he kissed the lining of your jaw and brushed his lips against your soft skin. “I know how stupid this situation is but I kept help thinking about how much I miss being inside you.” He raised his inner thumb to caress your bottom lip again.
“Don’t you miss the way I make you moan?” You closed your eyes feeling his hand travel down your coattail dress. His warm hand rubbed your inner thigh hoping to pump your flower of wetness again. Strands of Bruce’s hair tangled between your fingers as he traveled his butterfly kisses down your neck.
He pushed you up against the bathroom’s counter and wasted no time pushing your dress up. You spread your legs slightly so he could remove your panties. “I hope you haven’t been sharing this sweetness with anyone else '' Bruce pulled your legs a little closer toward him. You grazed your long nails over his chiseled jaw. “I promise I don’t share this kitty with anyone else '' you tongue him before grazing your teeth over his bottom lip. Bruce gave out a husky moan. You knew he loved the slight roughness that would send him overboard. He removed his hat to the side and unbuckled his belt to expose his hard dick. Your pussy throbbed and ached seeing his size again.
Bruce spread your legs apart and slowly pushed the pre cum tip inside your wet entrance. You moan feeling the grazing of your walls fit perfectly around his dick.
Bruce stared straight into your eyes and smirked at your begging expression.
“Are you sure you want to stop doing this?” He slowly pulled out and waited for your response. You whimper in irritation knowing he was being a complete tease. “Just one last time” You grab his shoulder and pull him closer begging him to enter you again. Bruce slowly enter his dick back in and tortured you with slow deep meaningful strokes. You try to quiet down your moans but you couldn’t help how much pleasure you felt him hitting your g spot.
A thumping noise from the bathroom door disrupted you both. You naturally snapped your head toward the door in panic. Bruce grabbed your chin and directed your eyes back to him. “Focus on me kitten, let them hear you moan” he pushed your legs further up to deepen his stroke. You cry out in pleasure looking into the deep dark eyes of Bruce Wayne.
#bruce wayne x reader#fanfic#writing#love story#bruce wayne smut#the batman#batman x reader#batman smut#batman x catwoman#robert pattinson#dc universe#dcmultiverse
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Start Over - Imagine Dragons - Sakuatsu One Shot
Okay HI GUYS so first post
(wow how cool)
I wanted to do a little writing exercise and shuffle a playlist I really enjoy and then write for characters based on the song. So, Start Over by Imagine Dragons was my first song <3 here’s a link to the song!! https://open.spotify.com/track/2Iug43iQrHN8CbGsUd2tEt?si=CrDSFtEpRKe1UkYojJwWiQ&dl_branch=1
This is just going to be a quick one shot because I can only listen to a song on repeat so many times before wanting to scream, so it stops whenever I get annoyed of the song :) ig this is angst with like a good ending? IDEK HAHA BUT ENJOY!!
oh and there is a bit of language in this? :,D also I didn’t edit this because I didn’t have time to so my apologies for unintentional grammar mistakes and misspellings! :,>
The plane was filled with hardly any noise at all, but in Atsumu’s mind there was a storm of noise, emotion, and words. So many words. Words he was told, words he said, words he shouldn’t have said, words he should have said.
Actions. Ones he did take, ones he didn’t take, all of them ran through his mind faster than the plane was soaring in the air. The silence around him felt entirely deafening, and there was nothing he could do in this moment but sit there and replay the memories of the past night.
He was more than aware that he had royally messed up. Sakusa Kyoomi had informed him of that. Yet, his own ego rendered him completely blind the moment he heard such words.
“You care so much about appearances, yet you refuse to work on your own. Becoming a better version of yourself on the court is something you’re more than willing to do, but outside of that? Where the public eye is blind to? Well, so are you.”
Those words replayed countless times, echoing off walls and coming back to him. It was all he could think about. How he had done Omi wrong, and how all he wanted to do was fix their situation.
However, that wasn’t exactly possible in the present situation.
Miya Atsumu was on an airplane with no cell service, and he would be stuck there for multiple hours. It felt like hell, having to sit there for so long with his own thoughts and the words that he heard last night. The words that were true. Then again, it wasn’t all a bad thing that he had to reflect on the situation.
Sakusa Kiyoomi was also left alone with his own thoughts, emotions, the words that were spoken last night. This odd feeling of the presence and absence of regret plagued him in his isolation. He knew that what he said needed to get to Atsumu in some way.
Lately, the setter had been so concerned with who he was on the court that he had forgotten to examine his character off the court. Of course, this led to mistakes, apologies, more mistakes, more apologies, an endless cycle of hurting those around him, and Sakusa left alone many nights in which he shouldn’t have been. The pain he felt wasn’t sharp, however. It was more of a dull, emotionless pain that caused him to feel somewhat repulsed.
“Ya shouldn’t be hangin’ around someone who makes you feel like trash, right? So, I’ll do the honors and kindly fuck off for a while. See how ya like it, Omi.” He still was dumbfounded by those words. He knew Miya to be someone who would sometimes speak first without fully evaluating how it would effect the other party, but he didn’t realize just what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of those comments.
Sakusa and Atsumu had a relatively healthy relationship. Of course, they had their disagreements, but there had never been an explicit moment in which Sakusa could remember that Miya would have the chance to lash out so harshly.
That’s a good thing, at least. It’s only happened once. He thought.
But, how long until it happens again?
Omi felt his heart sink and he sighed, trying not to think too much about that right now.
What if there isn’t an “again”?
---
Again. A word Sakusa didn’t seem to be fond of in the recent weeks. Atsumu had always made the same mistakes, again. He had always been out too late with other people, again. He had always come home the next morning, again. Apologized, again. Said he’s never do it, again.
But now, the word had new meaning. If there was no again for Atsumu to hurt him, would that mean that he had moved on? Would that mean his leaving was final and there wouldn’t be any risk to get hurt again?
There was always a risk to get hurt. Sakusa knew that full well. And, he knew there was a risk to get hurt repeatedly. However, if there was no risk, that meant there was no Atsumu. While he didn’t like risk, he didn’t like the idea of never being able to say “I love you,” again to his best friend.
Miya Atsumu had been gone for a couple weeks for training in another country. He had been so far, and yet all he wanted to do was go back home to the people he cared about.
He had messed up so many times. He had his “fall” and realized he sure as hell didn’t like how lonely it was on the bottom. The people he had neglected to care about recently weren’t there, and everything that came along with promise was so far from that. He didn’t want to be there and longer, and knew he had to change his habits and lifestyle outside of the court to better himself and lend more towards those he truly cared for.
One of those people being Sakusa Kiyoomi.
God, I need to call him before my flight back home, was all he could think. He was sitting in the airport with less than 5 minutes until he was to board. I have time, he thought.
He grabbed his phone and dialed Sakusa’s number by instinct. Omi <3 read the contact. He hesitated only slightly. Maybe this is better to settle in person. A phone call isn’t the best way to discuss this, especially when I only have so much time.
He sucked in a deep breath. There was no way he could do this properly
“But, I hafta at least try.”
One ring.
Two rings.
Three.
Damn, Omi, pick up...
Four
Five.
“Hello?” He heard at last.
“OMI!” Atsumu practically shouted in the middle of the air port. People turned their heads towards him dramatically, some looking aggravated, some confused, some about to laugh. He didn’t care. The noise in his mind had already been that loud, so he had hardly noticed the stark contrast when he spoke at such a loud volume.
“Ow, okay, no need to shout. It’s a phone call, I’m right here. Why did you call?” Omi said monotonously. Atsumu felt a cold shiver run down his spine, and all at once he wanted to hit the large red button on his phone screen and pretend he never called and their argument never happened and everything was okay. However, that would get them nowhere. That’s not what Atsumu wanted.
“Heya, uhm, I don’t exacly have a lot of time?”
“Mm. Figures.”
“But all I’ve been able ta think about lately is how ya were so right.”
Sakusa Kiyoomi wished he had been recording this call, because he might not ever hear those words again. Before, it was always ‘I was wrong,’ never, ‘you were right.’
“And I’ve been treatin’ like so much less than ya deserve. Yer one of my favorite people, Omi, and I have don’t nothin to show that ta ya.”
Silence for the first time in two weeks.
“I wanna do better by ya. And, I don’t have a lot of time ta get into details because I board the plane shortly... and I don’t expect an immediate answer from ya, but, can try again?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t push your luck, you heard me the first time. Get home safely.”
“Oh. And, of course, we can talk more about it later and everything, because I still have a lot ta say and I wanna hear what you hafta say too because what you wanna say is important to me an-”
“Miya?”
“Yes?” he sucked in a breath, holding it in the absence of conversation.
A pause.
“Get home safely. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Yeah, you got it. Me too.”
“Goodbye. See you soon.” A beep.
“Bye, Omi. Cya soon.”
#sakuatsu#oneshot#haikyuu#unedited#sakusa#sakusa kiyoomi#atsumu miya#miya atsumu#haikyu#haikyuu fanfiction#angst#idk what i'm doing honestly#but i'm kind of proud of this ngl#maybe i should do this more often#or maybe it will never happen again#good luck trying to figure it out#haha ty for reading <3#Spotify
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Saint Jude's Miracle: A Javier Peña x OFC (Isa) Fanfiction. Chapter V
Summary: Isabel resorts to a higher power to try and protect Javi in his journey and she recalls a very special day years ago in Laredo.
Warning: Nothing I think (brief mention of sex but nothing explicit)
A/N: This is a smaller chapter compared to the recent ones and it feels like a small pause between the first part of this story and Javi’s journey after he leaves that will come in later chapters, and also the reason behind the series name. Sorry for any mistake, bad grammar and misspellings, thank you for your feedback :)
Masterlist
Chapter IV
Chapter V: A lost cause
His weight over her and his soft breathing on her nape makes Isa smile before she opens her eyes. But that annoying voice she cannot shut reminds her that he’s leaving. His arm is over her waist the two of them cuddling in the small space of Javi’s old room bed. The room hasn’t been touch since he left Laredo, he still has some small details of his past self before he went away and changed to the man that’s pressed against her back. She places her hand over his watching their golden rings.
She remembers his shy kiss at the wedding, he had never kissed her like that even when they were just starting; and Javi had placed his big hand over her belly while doing so and then he bend down and kissed her swollen stomach. He had looked at her with such a bright smile that all her doubts had been lifted. And she thought there was a chance for happiness that maybe things were rush but they could work it out. Isabel wants to see him again like that, to see him look at her as if it’s the only thing that matters, but lately there was something lacking. Clearly he needed more in life. It’s a lost cause.
The urge to use the bathroom makes her move out of the bed even though she wants to be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the day. She tosses Javi’s shirt on and walks stealthily towards the toilet, but from the corner of her eye she sees old Chucho dress up in a suit and his white hat.
“Morning, mija” he greets grabbing the car keys
“Chucho, you were going to church, right?”
“Yes, you can go back to bed if you want, I’ll be back in half an hour”
“Do you mind if I go with you?”
“Not at all” he nods and smiles at her “But hurry up or we will be late”
Que la paz sea con vosotros the priest has his hands raise to the heavens and Isa sighs muttering the usual response as everybody in church. She has never been the religious type but as her mother said “when you’re desperate who do you turn to?” and she’s desperate for an answer a promise that actually can assure her that Javi will be alright and that he will be back and all his desire to fight this never ending war will vanish.
“Let’s go, mija” Chucho offers her his arm “It was a beautiful service, do you mind staying just for a minute I always light a candle for my wife”
“Of course” she pats his hand while he guides her through the aisle towards a small statue of the Virgin Mary, a small table bellow is full of little white electric candles that flicker imitating the real ones, Chucho kisses his coin before throwing it in the small slot.
“You still love her after all this time” he nods fondly, there’s a hint of pain and longing in his eyes behind the glasses
“Every day of my life” his voice comes out a little bit shaky
“Elvira was a lucky woman” Isa, still holding his arm, rests her head on his shoulder
“I did give her a hurt time too. I was stubborn, didn’t talk much, I didn’t tell her how much I loved her as much as I should have”
“Mm, it’s sounds just like someone I know” Isa sighs
“I know, but he does love you very much” Chucho pats her hand and they walk away to a beautiful sunny day in Laredo
“Well, it would hurt if he said it with words from time to time”
“Yeah, never been a good talker” he agrees and waves to some people he knows from town “You wanted to come with me to pray for him?”
“Yes and to remember the good times, I’ve never been back to this church since our wedding” Isa turns to face the white façade and remembers a day very different from this once almost seven years ago.
A sudden storm had hit the town two hours before the wedding, the trees fought back against the wind and the only sound in the church was the violent air swirling outside and hitting the windows and wooden door. Almost every guest had called and apologized for not attending and the plan to host an outdoor reception was cancelled. They ended up inside Chucho’s house. They moved his living room furniture to the corners and installed the plastic white table for the reception inside, a few family friends, Isa’s parents and Javi’s dad where the only attendees, by the newlywed really didn’t care at all. Javier had his hand over her belly all the time and had looked at her as if she was a miraculous apparition
“You look beautiful” he had said when the conversation between the guests was flowing nicely and they could focus on themselves. Isabel had bought a lace and vaporous dress the only thing that fitted with her belly growing each day. She had compared her look as a big old tablecloth but the way he was looking at her, somehow she believed she was beautiful.
“Medallas y estampas del Señor, la Guadalupana, también tenemos del Arcángel San Miguel, San Judas Tadeo y todos los Santos” a small old lady call for them from a simple little stand “All proceedings go for the orphanage” she completes and shows them a wicker basket full of plastic cards with different Saints on them, angels, Jesus and the Virgin.
“¿Ha dicho que tenía de San Judas Tadeo?” (You said you have one for Saint Jude Thaddeus?) Isa approached her “My grandma used to pray to that saint, always said that I was a lost cause because I didn’t want to clean up my room and that she prayed that he would give her more patient with me” she recalls with a warm smile
“Tengo estampitas y medallas, señora” (I have small cards and medallions) the old lady shows on each of her palms the small laminated image of Saint Jude and a small silver medallion with a simple cord
“I take the medallion, thanks” the woman smiles warmly and puts the necklace on a small paper envelope and thanks Isa when she leaves a few bills on the small box where they’re collecting the money.
“Let’s see if he really works miracle on lost causes”
Javi has been preparing his car for his trip tomorrow, checking on the tires, his papers and luggage and that he has enough gas. Elvira and Chucho are getting the animals inside their corrals while the orange light of sunset illuminates the trees and the river around the property. A beautiful view of her child laughing with her grandpa but that it’s clouded by the notion that in a few hours, Javier would be away.
“You have everything?” Isa squeeze his husband broad shoulders
“Yes, I think” he turns and grabs her by the waist
“I got you something” Isa reaches for her jean shorts pocket where she kept the medallion and leaves the small envelope on his palm “It’s nothing really”
“Gracias” he smiles when he takes out the simple brown cord with the silver medallion, he raises his eyebrow confused
“This is San Judas Tadeo, patron saint of the lost causes” she bites her lip while he inspects it
“And I am a lost cause, is that so?” he asks with a playful smile
“I’m beginning to think you are, yes. My grandma used to pray to Saint Jude so she would be more patient with me”
“And what are praying for?”
“That this will be the last time you have to go, that you will see for good how this job hurts you and that you have to let it go”
They say goodbye before bed since Javi will be leaving before dawn. From the door frame, Isa listens how he says goodbye to their child.
“You promise you’ll be back for my birthday”
“I promise”
They hug tight and he tucks in her sheets before closing the door.
“Pops” he hugs Chucho
“Be careful, mijo”
Javi walks towards Isa but she stops him before he could say a thing “I’m going to wake up when you leave”
“You don’t have to, Isa”
“I can get back to bed after. Let’s go to bed so you get a good 8 hours” they hold hands and enter his room.
“Good night, kids” Chucho says before closing his room door.
The single bed creaks with their weight and the many years of use, Javi holds her from behind since is the only position they both are able to fit. Isa laces her fingers with his and they stay in silence even if they are not asleep.
Isabel remembers how they were on that same position on their wedding night. The plan was to leave to the resort they had booked as a small trip for their honeymoon promising that once she gave birth to the baby they could organize a bigger holiday (it never happened) but the storm had made it impossible to drive and so they stayed with Chucho. Javi didn’t try to touch her more that it was necessary since the bed didn’t allow much movement but Isabel moved to entice him pressing her back to his hips but he didn’t say a thing or moved with her until she spoke
“I need you Javi”
“Baby, you should rest”
“You won’t hurt me”
And so they’re first time as husband and wife had been in that small bed covered in the same sheets that Javi had had since he was a teenager, slowly moving his hips against her and trying to quite down their moans.
I’m going to take good care of you he had said rubbing her belly when they were finished of my girls
“I’m going to take good care of you, Javi, even if you resist” Isa murmurs, she expects Javi to ask why she said that out of nowhere but he’s snoring softly his big body already relaxed on his side.
Isabel wakes up suddenly when, still asleep, she has moved and feeling the extra space she rushes towards the door. The light enters brightly through the windows and she knows she’s already late. Barefoot she runs to the door and even though the soil is humid with the morning dew she walks to the small path leading to the ranch iron gate. She sees the car’s traces on the ground. Javi’s gone. She walks to the house trying to control the sobs and sniffs that crush her chest.
After cleaning herself up and the trails she left after entering the house, she finds a small piece of paper on the desk in Javi’s room. Beside an old promotion picture and some chipped almost invisible sticker he had glued on the wood, he wrote:
(Image reads: See you in a week, don’t need to pray to anybody, I’ll always come back to you)
#Javier Peña#Javi Peña#Javier Peña x ofc#Javier Peña fanfiction#Javier Peña fic#Narcos#Narcos fanfic#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction#josé pedro balmaceda pascal#Javier Pena#Javier Pena fanfic
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Is it Real? (Part 5)
Summary: Bestfriend AU. This chapter will deal on what Tom did to Y/N and why Y/N is affected on Tom’s return. This will also deal with the dynamics of Steve and Y/N’s friendship.
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader
Warning/s: This chapter is going to be angsty. There will be implicit descriptions of panic attacks.
A/N: Y/N = Your Name. Enjoy reading! I don’t proofread so I apologize in advanced for any misspelling other awkward grammar here. If you know beta readers out there, I think I might need one now. Heh. I don’t know the whole beta reading process so please teach me too.
Number of Words: 1,959
Part 1 - Part 2- Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
5 YEARS AGO
Steve was on the process of fixing the drain of your kitchen faucet when he lifted his head to look at you in response to your statement. “You’re going to work at a university?” He then slowly pushed himself up from the ground to check if you weren’t joking.
“Yep.” you responded nonchalantly while typing on your laptop.
“I thought you wanted to work at the daycare?” Steve moved closer towards you.
“Yeah, but Tom told me that being a daycare teacher is too mediocre. There are more opportunities for career development if I work in University.” You looked at Steve and stretched. “Plus, we can work at the same school too.”
Steve reached for your laptop and closed it.
“What the - ?!” You stopped and looked at Steve, whose eyes were glaring at you.
“You should stop this.”
“Stop what? I’m just finishing my application form, I have to pass this tomorrow.”
“Why are you letting him dictate your life?” Steve’s voice wasn’t loud, but it sounded frustrated with a little touch of disappointment.
“Steve. I love Tom.” you answered plainly.
You stood up and went to the sofa. You assumed hat you answer was enough for the discussion to end. You grabbed the remote control and attempted to turn on the TV, but Steve got in the way and stood right in front of you.
Agitated, you put down the remote control. “Can’t you just support me?” your voice came out louder than you wanted it to be. But Steve got on your nerves and you’re kind of hoping that your louder voice would stop Steve from nagging you (It only made the situation worse).
“Support you?” His voice was a little strained, yes, but he was CLEARLY angry. “First, he stopped you from eating pizza, and ‘encouraged’ you to eat salad instead.” Steve started walking around. “Then, he stops you from wearing jeans, because, I quote, ‘dresses and skirts looks better on you’. Every single thing you’ve been doing, he’s ‘trying to improve’.” Steve stopped and looked at you. “He’s trying to control your life!”
“Better opportunity? Career development? Mediocre?! What happened to wanting to make children happy Y/N? What happened to making the children smile even for a short while? What happened to protecting the children/s dreams? Are you throwing them them all way for someone you just met 8 months ago? This isn’t you Y/N!”
“Then who am I Steve? If this isn’t me, then who am I?!” The heat in your body started to rise and you feel your stomach churning. The words that you heard from Steve were aggravating. For you, Steve clearly crossed the line.
“That’s the point Y/N!” Steve responded, equally agitated. “You don’t just go around and let other people define who you are!”
“You know what?” You walked towards Steve. “Maybe it’s time that you,” you pointed your finger on Steve’s chest, “Stop pretending like you know me, and start accepting that I am not the person that you think I am!”
It felt like time has stopped. Steve fell silent, but you can faintly hear his deep breaths as you gaze upon his clenched fists. It might’ve been a minute but it felt like a full hour to you.
“Fifteen years.” Steve sighed. “We’ve been friends for 15 years. You have flaws and annoying habits and I know them more than anyone else. You’re not perfect and I don’t think that you should be. If you could just...see yourself the same way that I see you.”
Steve’s voice was softer, sadder. “You have this light that I – and I … I can’t just let some guy dim that light.” If you listened closely you could hear his voice shaking.
The distance between you and Steve became bigger. Every step that Steve took, felt like knives stabbing in your chest. But I love Tom, you thought. If I can’t fight for Tom now, then I can’t fight for him at all. But you stood your ground. Despite the excruciating pain that the distance gave you, you didn’t even attempt to look at Steve as he slowly opened the door.
“ ‘Who am I?’ you asked me. I can’t answer that.” He continued. “But I know that you’re not happy and I’m not going to just shut up and accept that.”
He left.
The absence of Steve made the room seem bigger. You tightly grip your chest as a poor attempt to put together the broken pieces of your heart. Tears start to flow through your cheeks.
You wipe your tears and tried to relax. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“This is probably the best for us.” you muttered. You try to convince yourself that this is just something that the two of you had to go through.
You shifted your focus to your dinner date with Tom and decided to prepare for the night. You laid the red dress on your bed and you lined up the necessary skin care and make-up and then took a long shower.
---
You were waiting for the Uber when you saw Steve cross the street from your grocery. He momentarily met your eyes but he immediately looked away. You reciprocated the gesture and looked away too. Steve walked past you and it didn’t feel right. Ignoring Steve didn’t feel right. You impulsively turned towards his direction and reached out for his hand but you were stopped by the sound of a car horn. Your Uber driver had arrived.
The traffic wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, you arrived at the restaurant five minutes before 6:00PM. You sat down and messaged Tom to let him know that you’re already in the venue. His lack of immediate response was a little off character for him – he usually answers promptly. Maybe he’s busy, you thought.
At this point, you’re trying just trying to convince yourself that Tom is busy and something urgent must’ve come up. He hasn’t been responded to you for more than thirty minutes and it’s making you anxious. You tried calling Dot and Nat too, they didn’t know where Tom was. He didn’t answer to their calls too.
You were in the middle of dialing Tom’s number when a waiter (or maybe the manager) approached you.
“Excuse me. Ma’am Y/N L/N?” He inquired.
“Yes?” You answered.
“Someone dropped by earlier and told us that if we see someone in red dress with the name of Y/N L/N.” He handed over a neatly folded piece of paper. “We should give this letter 30 minutes after 6:00PM.”
“He also paid for the food in advance so If you want, we can serve it to you now.”
Dumbfounded. That’s how you would explain your feelings as you take the letter from the waiter’s hands. “I’ll call you when I need anything.” You told the waiter.
“Okay. Ma’am. Just call me when you’re ready.”
Everything didn’t make any sense. You held on the paper as tightly as you can with the hopes that it will explain everything that’s happening. With your shaking hands, you slowly unfolded the piece of paper.
I can’t do this anymore.
-Tom
What?
To say that you were surprised was an understatement. It felt like the world stopped spinning. Breathing became more difficult. You tried to comprehend what just happened, but you were overwhelmed with too much emotions that you’re mind just turned blank. With all the strength that you have left, you stood up and leave the restaurant.
Despite walking in a busy street, you couldn’t hear anything. You couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t even realize that it started raining. You’ walked aimlessly - through the crowd, the rain, through the pain – desperately trying to escape.
Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong?
You try to breathe properly, but you can’t. You tried to look around for Tom. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding? Maybe –
Then, you started to run. You fall down a couple of times but you still ran. You’re angry. You’re frustrated. You didn’t know what to do.
Am I not good enough?
You stopped in front of your apartment building, where Steve saw you soaked and barefooted.
Steve dropped everything that he was carrying and ran towards you. He was holding his umbrella on top of your head with one hand, and desperately trying to take off his jacket with the other. He guided you inside the apartment and covered you with his jacket.
The whistling of the kettle enabled you to come to your senses. Steve placed a cup of tea in front of you. Beside the cup of tea, you noticed a change of clothes which you took and brought with you to the bathroom. Steve’s clothes were big, but it was comfortable. It wasn’t as restricting as the dress that you wore earlier, it made you feel more relaxed, more…
Free.
With your hands on your chest, you tried to breathe and pull yourself together. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
One emotion at a time. You tell yourself. Y/N, process one emotion at a time.
The first thing that you learned to do when faced with an overwhelming amount of emotions, is to acknowledge the things that you can’t and can control.
The reason why you’re confused is because you didn’t know what Tom meant. But you can’t control Tom’s emotions. No matter how hard you try to understand him, all of it will just be assumptions. These assumptions will only lead to an endless spiral of overthinking You’ve been through that spiral before and you didn’t want to go back.
You take a deep breathe again as you focus your thoughts on what you can control right now – acknowledging your pain. You’re in pain and that’s acceptable. You love Tom, and being left just like that should painful.
I am in pain, and that’s okay.
Inhale.
Exhale.
It’s okay.
Your breathing became less erratic. With your heart beating steadily, you stand up. You open the door of the bathroom and as you step outside the door. You see the image of Steve laying his bed cushion on the carpeted floor beside the sofa, He placed one pillow and a blanket on the sofa.
A tear fell down from your eye and you ran towards Steve as fast as you can. You embraced him as tightly as you can.
Tom needed five words to break you.
Steve doesn’t need words to comfort you.
It took a while before you broke the silence. “I forgot my umbrella.” was the first thing you told Steve.
Steve chuckled and caressed your wet hair. “You forgot your shoes too?”
With your head resting on his chest, you nodded.
“You should’ve called me, you know.” Steve remarked.
“But you were angry at me!” You retorted.
“I’m angry Y/N, not heartless.”
Steve stopped caressing your head, and patted it two times. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.”He broke free from your embrace. “It’s your favorite. Chamomile.”
You made your way to the kitchen and Steve sat down on the sofa skimming through the channels on the television. The aroma of the tea as it entered your mouth made you feel more calm. You take another deep breath.
I’m in pain. You repeated. And that’s okay.
I’m not alone.
You never really talked about the incident in detail with Steve. You didn’t have too. Occasionally, he and Bucky would ask what happened to Tom, who suddenly stopped coming to your apartment. You would smile at them and answer, “He got away.”
Five years had passed and everything that happened, are just memories of the past. That’s what you thought, until one day, you received a call from Nat.
“Tom’s coming back.”
Part 6
A/N: I’m so happy I updated this probably a week after uploading the previous part! WIth that, I’m so proud. *pats myself on the back* The next chapter will probably take longer since I had to do other stuff, but I’ll try to upload it as soon as I can!
FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! If you have anything to say about the story, any reactions whatsoever, feel free to comment here or message me! Thank you :D
#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x reader fluff#steve rogers x reader angst#steve rogers x you#steve rogers self#steve rogers series#marvel imagine#steve rogers au#steve rogers bestfriend au#mcu imagine#marvel fanfic#is it real?#swtltlmrvlgrl
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Consequences.
So I recently started watching WTFock and I love Robbe x Sander way to much. I got inspired to write a little drabble from Sander's POV. It takes place the day after the events of the party.
Hope you guys enjoy.
WARNING: Contains reference to triggering events.
Apology Note: This story may contain grammar issues and/or misspelled words.
Sander sat in a cafe pretending to listen to Britt. His head is pounding from a hangover and his phone feels like a bomb in his pocket, about to go off at any second. He almost wishes it would, but all he has is the last text from Robbe.
Want to go hangout?
But Robbe, with his gorgeous brown hair, his beautiful face, shy smiles and the kindest soul Sander has ever encountered, is too busy invading every nook and cranny of the blond boy's mind. Hell, not just his mind, but his heart and soul too.
It was all a swirling, churning, knotting, mess of chaos.
As hard as he tried to shake Robbe, he just couldn't seem to let him go. It had only been yesterday that he'd last spoken to him, but it felt like an eternity.
And now he was with Britt.
He'd betrayed Robbe. He'd betrayed Britt. He'd betrayed himself.
Sander's thoughts took him back to Robbe's bed. The feeling of the younger boy's skin under his fingertips, the way his hair smelled and his smile haunted him. So, too, did Robbe's theory of other dimensions. He desperately wanted to be one of the other Sander’s. A Sander that was actually brave and fearless and not just pretending to me. A Sander that right now, had Robbe wrapped around him, like the clingy, soft boy that he was.
Britt continued to speak, not at all bothered by Sander's lack of response. She thought he was in another one of his moods, so she was happy to pick up the slack.
Britt is in the past.
We are the future.
He had really meant it.
Sander hands tightened into fists. The other night he'd been shown a version of their future that hadn't truly crossed his mind until he and Robbe had lain in a filthy alleyway covered in cuts and bruises. They'd been lucky they weren’t killed.
He hadn't been able to protect Robbe that night!
What about the rest of the nights in the future?
Would he fail then too?
Sander looked out the window hoping to find a distraction from his thoughts. He watched the people go by, idly noting the shapes and angles of their bodies and faces like he was in one of his art classes. But that only made him think of his drawing of Robbe; the one he wanted to paint in intense colours.
Because what he felt for Robbe was intense.
Scary.
Sweet.
Soft.
Mind blowing.
And then there Robbe stood.
Right outside the window.
As if he'd been summoned by the power of Sander's entire being. His soul hummed for Robbe; called for him in a way Sander had never experienced before.
The blond boy's entire body went rigid. His heart raced and thudded and ached. His hands itched and trembled and ached. His body had such a visceral reaction to the sight of Robbe that it scared him. But not enough to stop his eyes from wandering possessively over Robbe's figure. He could only see the side of his profile and his hood was drawn up obscuring most of his face, but Sander could recognise him anywhere.
Robbe was looking down at something in his hand. His other hand went up to rub his temple thoughtfully and he shook his head a little. Sander drank it all in, like an alcoholic that needed his next fix.
Because Robbe was like an addiction for him.
Even when Sander had been hurt so badly by the way Robbe had spoken to him, not so long ago, he hadn't been able to stay mad at him or stay away from him. Especially when he'd been so sweet and apologetic.
And Sander had gone and fucked it all up.
Britt posted on Insta, wearing his leather jacket. Robbe was bound to have seen that on top of everything else. Sander imagined Robbe in it instead, how it would swallow the boys smaller body and resisted the urge to shudder.
Robbe's head turned towards the window and for a second Sander thought that Robbe had felt his starring. But then another boy, a man really, was throwing his arm around Robbe's shoulders and tugging him along. It wasn't one of the Brrrothers, because Sander would have recognised them.
Sander hadn't seen Robbe's reaction to the man, but he'd walked off with him without protest.
If Sander had thought his mind was chaotic before, it was nothing compared to the anger and jealously that fired through his veins, making his head and eyes feel hot and itchy.
Who the fuck had his hands on Robbe?!
It had been bad when he'd seen Robbe with Noor, but it was a thousand times worse to see him with another man, because Sander wanted to be the one with his arm around Robbe's shoulders.
“Sander, what are you doing?” Britt's voice sounded from afar, but he felt her tugging at his sleeve. He didn't remember having stood or pounding his fists into the table, but Britt is looking at him with concern and a hint of embarrassment at the scene he is creating.
“I forgot I need art supplies for college tomorrow,” he manages to bite out, before storming out of the cafe. Britt deserves better then the way he is treating her, he knows this, but his mind is too focused on figuring out who Robbe was with. And why he let him put his hands on him.
God, I’m such a hypocrite, Sander thought bitterly.
Sander followed in the same direction as the two other males, but couldn’t see Robbe's distinctive jacket in the crowd.
Which is how he found himself across the street from Robbe's building, hidden from sight, his hood up and his jacket pulled tight.
The jacket that he wished he'd seen Robbe wrapped in last night, rather than Britt.
#wtfock#robbe ijzermans#sander driesen#robbe x sander#sobbe#sander x robbe#trigger warning#robbe x sander fic#my fic
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You’re somebody else Din Djaren x oc Xitlalli
synopsis: Din had always finished his missions and was a big believer in honesty but what happens when his latest bounty makes him rethink his philosophy.
Warnings: mentions of abuse. I think that's it
A/N: this is by far one of the worst imagines I wrote but it seemed like a good plot when I was thinking about it. I’m sorry for any grammar and misspelled words. I’ll probably rewrite this when I have more time on my hands.
“Mando, can I ask you a question?” He heard a voice ask from behind him. Of course, he didn’t speak, he rarely did especially when he was flying. Deciding to proceed even with all the thoughts in her head told her to leave the mercenary alone and not speak unless she was spoken to “I’ve been on your ship for two almost three months now so I know what you usually do to your bounty-” gulping she continued “-I guess what I’m trying to say is how come I haven’t met the same fate as them?” she spoke already regretting having come up to the cockpit to talk to her warden as she secretly referred to him as. "Would you like to meet the same fate as them?" his modulated voice said. "No, I was just curious" she spoke looking up only to see that he already turned his chair and was looking at her or at least that's what she thought, it was hard to tell with the visor. The Mandalorian studied her face noticing the way her Cornelia blue eyes stood out against her russet skin and yet they complimented each other. "I need someone to watch the kid. When I found you, you were playing with the village children. You would be good to watch him while I capture other bounties" he spoke seeing the saw her features contorted from pleased to confusion and then to questioning. “Okay, one or two last questions. Who set the bounty on me? and why haven’t you turned me in yet?” she asked. “ I don’t ask questions. Someone promised a hefty payout for you and I took it. As far as not turning you in yet, I told you previously, I need someone to watch the kid.” he spoke and turned his seat back around before she could speak again signaling that the conversation was over. Sighing she turned around and made her way back to the lower level where Mado had made her own bed and deciding to sleep as they made their way to the next destination.
She had woken up a short while later deciding she wasn’t going to be able to fully sleep yet so instead she made her way to the child's sleeping pod only to see he wasn’t there. She didn’t panic though, she knew he had to be on the ship somewhere. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard squeaks coming from the cockpit followed by the modulated voice of the Mandalorian “I trust her. Don’t give me that look, I see how you get when she holds her. You trust her too” he spoke before another squeal was heard and at that point, she didn’t know if she should laugh at the fact that the big bad Mandalorian was talking to the same child he referred to as a womprat or smile because he said he trusted her. She decided to leave the two alone to bind as she read one of the many books that were left around.
It had been about a week since Mando and Xitlalli had spoken in all honesty she was confused as to why she was receiving the cold shoulder. Maybe she had said or done something to upset him? Maybe she shouldn’t have been so persistent in asking him questions? Whatever the reason was Xitlalli missed having someone to talk to or in Mandos case have someone grunt back when she would talk and now the ship felt much lonelier than it previously had even when she kept herself busy with the child but yet here she was laying down in her cot trying to figure out a way to apologize or even figure out if she had anything to be sorry for. Before she knew it she had fallen asleep and only woke up because of the sound of heavy footsteps stepping on the razer crest, getting up she was met with her nightmare. Armored men where on the ship looking at her while one of them got ready to put restraints on her but being the person she was she tried fighting them off yet she wasn’t a match for them so with her arms chained behind her back along with the ankle restraints she had to prevent her from running they made there way down the ship and she kept her head down only looking up when she heard some voices ahead of her. Looking up she made eye contact with Mando, her heart immediately breaking “Mando, please. Please help me” she spoke not caring that tears were already leaving her eyes, without acknowledging her Mando turned around and continued his conversation, thanking that his face was covered so no one could see the regret he had when he saw them carry her down the alleys as she pleads for him to help her.
“Why was there such a high bounty on this one?” Mando asked “ you were just in the presence of royalty. Queen Xitlalli of - well actually I don’t know how to pronounce it.” “A queen? Why would a queen have a bounty on her?” he spoke again. “Well, from what I heard she bailed on her wedding so her fiance was willing to pay whatever price to have her home,” Greef spoke handing Mando his earnings. “What's going to happen to her now?” Mando found himself asking. “Well, he's probably going to marry her and then have her killed so he can have both his kingdom and hers. A really good strategy if you ask me” Greef spoke “but that’s not our problem. We got paid and returned her” Greef said before leading both him and Mando into the cantina. Mando was clearly distracted. He couldn’t help but think about how he should have just kept her on the ship. He didn’t know she was going to be killed. When he spoke to Greef a few nights ago he had told the Mandalorian that her family had missed her and wanted her home as soon as possible.
Mando made his way to the armorer as he usually did after a bounty to give her the credits he hadn’t used for fuel or food. “You don’t seem like yourself” the armorer spoke as she began to make a new Beskar for him. With your offering, we will be able to better take care of many foundlings” she paused and continued “you are usually proud when you can help provide for the next Mandalorians. With your recent donation you should be proud” she spoke. " I am always proud to help the foundlings. I am not proud over how I acquired the currency" he spoke looking at her before continuing "she trusted me and I just send her to certain death" he spoke waiting to see what knowledge she would bestow upon him. "If you are not happy with what you have done only you can go back and change it." she said, "And I am done with your new Beskar" she spoke before helping Mando into it and going on her way.
Of course, he had to go help Xitlali escape from wherever they were keeping her they probably weren’t going to stay for very long so he knew his time frame was almost non-existing. It wasn’t difficult to spot where they were keeping Xitlali when there were about ten guards outside of one of the many unoccupied homes, without even having a second thought the Mandalorian found himself firing at all the guards taking them down one by one before he reached the door. He could hear footsteps inside but they were far too light to belong to any of the guards. “Xitlali” He found himself whispering as he made his way inside the building. “Mando?” he heard her voice come from his left. “What are you doing here?” she spoke as she made her way to him. “I came to get you. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have turned you in. But you’re safe now” he spoke as she came into view, he couldn’t help but look at her, her once flawless skin now had bruises forming from eyes down to her arms, back, and legs. “What happened?” “Don’t pretend like you care now Mando.” her voice dripping with venom. “What happened to the guards?” she spoke suddenly realizing that there was no one firing at them. “I took care of them. We have a straight path from here to the razor crest and then were free to go wherever you want” he spoke grabbing her arm and leading her outside. “I- I can’t leave with you” she spoke causing him to stop in his tracks and look at her, tilting his helmet covered head to the side as if asking her to elaborate. “You can’t just betray me, deliver me on a silver platter to someone that wouldn’t think twice about killing me and then come back and ‘rescue’ me. I’m grateful for you getting me out of there but I can’t trust you anymore.” she said looking at him, noticing the way his shoulders slumped. “Under different circumstances, I would love to come back to you and the kid but I'm not sure that you won't cash me in for a different bounty? Maybe next time I see you I’ll be open to thinking about your offer but for now? For now, this is where I leave you. Good luck on whatever it is you are doing. “ she spoke before walking past him and disappearing around the corner.
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As always make sure to leave a like and a comment. and if you enjoyed my story give me a little reblog.
#din djaren#din djarin x reader#din djarin x oc#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin imagine
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The Gift of Immortality
DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader
GENDER-NEUTRAL READER × DRAGON BALL CHARACTERS
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PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 001 | HOPE
FIRST CHAPTER: Prologue - BIRTH | 1
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WARNINGS: Mentions of SWEARING!!!
002 |Betrayals Reawakening
❝The past is just the past.
There's no inherent value in getting over it or catching up to it.❞
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"Damn it, shit—I'm cutting it close," I muttered to myself, my heart pounding in sync with each stride. The pavement blurred beneath my feet, racing toward the tournament grounds. As I drew closer, the air crackled with the distant sounds of fireworks, their colorful explosions painting the sky above into a canvas of vibrant hues against the azure backdrop.
Slowing my pace as I arrived, I paused to take in the scene before me. Laughter mingled with the hiss of rockets, the joyful cries of children adding to the festive atmosphere. Amidst the sea of faces, fighters and spectators intermingled, their voices weaving a tapestry of excitement.
For a moment, I allowed myself to bask in the serenity of the moment, a rare breather from the chaos of my thoughts. But just as quickly, a sharp voice shattered the tranquility, jolting me back to reality, my muscles tensing.
"The preliminary round is about to commence. All contestants, please proceed to the fighting arena immediately."
Just in time.
Stepping inside, the din of conversation and exertion enveloped me. I scanned the room, taking note of the diverse array of fighters, each with their unique presence. Some engaged in rigorous warm-ups, while others exchanged banter with fellow competitors. I kept my head low, pulling my hood tighter to shield my face from prying eyes, and focused on the plan I had set.
The plan was simple yet layered with complexities. I had taken precautions, preparing a disguise to veil my identity in obscurity against those who might recognize me. I assumed the tournament would be recorded on live camera.
First, to obscure my identity, ensuring that neither the government nor remnants of BioThera could trace me here.
Second, to strategically bow out if I found myself advancing to the final rounds, avoiding the spotlight that winning would only draw unwanted attention, being on social media, whereas losing would allow me to slip away unnoticed, a mere footnote in the tournament's history.
Third, in the aftermath, I would return to my base and hide, allowing time to blur the memory of my presence here. No autographs, no accolades, just a silent retreat back into the shadows. It was simple; however, not so simple when it came for me to reclaim a sense of my pride back, how to enjoy a tournament.
A yearning to rediscover the joy of combat, stripped of the primal instincts that had driven me for so long. I craved the thrill of battle, the rush of adrenaline untainted by fear or survival.
Those shit loads of hunters.
With each step, I pushed back the memories that threatened to engulf me, focusing instead on the rhythm of my breath and the steady beat of my heart. I would fight, not out of necessity, but out of choice. Though the instinct to survive still whispered in the recesses of my mind, I vowed to temper it with restraint.
To fight not with the intent to maim or kill but to reclaim a sense of happiness long forgotten. Memories of Jiro, my lost love and companion, stirred within me, a reminder of the joy we once shared in the heat of battle.
Just like in the old days I have fought. Even just a speck of that feeling is enough for me to be satisfied.
As I took a step forward, my gut twisted in knots, a leaden weight settling upon my chest, constricting my breath, halting my movements like an invisible forcefield. A strange energy, dense and palpable, suffocating me with its intensity. It was an energy beyond mere human capabilities, tinged with an unsettling familiarity that sent chills down my spine.
What sort of energy is this?
The powerful energy permeated the air around me, tinged with a hint of danger that pricked my senses, setting them on edge. Frozen in place, I struggled to comprehend the source of this ominous presence. My heart is hammering against my ribs like a caged beast, beads of sweat forming on my brow, a lump lodging itself in my throat.
With each passing moment, I felt compelled to reduce my own ki as if instinctively seeking refuge from whatever was behind me. But anxiety held me rooted to the spot.
Move, damn it! Move!
My mind screamed, urging me to break free from the paralysis that gripped me. A chill swept down my spine, sensing being watched, boring into the back of my skull. Summoning every ounce of willpower, I forced myself to turn, casting a wary glance over my shoulder. Among the crowd of contenders, one figure stood out in the crowd, like a sore thumb.
Tall and imposing, with skin the color of emerald adorned with patches of light pink and delicate black lines going across them on his arms. His attire was wearing a white turban with a dark purplish-blue Gi, and a white cape that billowed behind him. He had pointy orange shoes and a red Obi belt.
My eyes scanned his solid facial structure, pronounced cheekbones, a rounder chin, and a straight nose, noticing his long, pointy, green ears. But it was his gaze, those piercing black eyes that bore into mine with unsettling intensity, that stirred a long-buried memory within me.
He seems... familiar.
Memories of a bygone era flooded my mind, accompanied by the chilling echo of a voice that was all too familiar.
|My weapon must be strong, and able to take a fatal hit and walk it off as if it were nothing. If you ever disobey me or allow any of my plans to fail...you will experience a fate worse than any death you have ever encountered.
You will wish you were never immortal.|
King Piccolo's words reverberated through my consciousness, and with dawning horror, I realized the truth of the being that stood before me. A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm me as I grappled with the reality of facing the demon.
King Piccolo?
But before I could succumb to the suffocating fear, a booming announcement jolted me back to the present. "Attention, participants! Sorry to keep you waiting, but we will now begin the preliminary round. Please gather around the center of the room."
With a sharp intake of breath, I tore my gaze away from the demon king, a facade of composure masking the emotions and feelings raging within. As the crowd of fighters converged at the center of the room, I would follow suit, my senses alert to every movement and chatter around me. An elderly man took his place on a raised platform, his voice resonating through the air with a clarity that belied his age.
"I thank you all for your support of the martial arts society," he began, his words a prelude to the imminent competition. My attention wavered, thoughts swirling like a storm in my mind, drowning out the elder's speech. My thoughts were consumed by the unexpected presence of King Piccolo, questions swirled within me, each one a dagger of uncertainty.
He looks so different, fairly younger, and short from his immense height when I last saw him, but that doesn't matter. How had he escaped his prison? Did some idiot free him? And why, of all places, did he come here? Has he come for me? For revenge for my betrayal?
The thought gnawed at me, festering in the depths of my mind. Yet, even as I pondered his motives, a deeper fear took root. One question loomed: Did he recognize me even with my disguise?
The very idea sent a jolt of fear coursing through my veins, my heart pounding in rhythm with my rising anxiety. In the chaos of my thoughts, I felt his gaze upon me, an unseen weight that threatened to crush me beneath its scrutiny.
Calm down, [First Name]. Calm down, think about this.
I reminded myself, forcing a facade of calm, but beneath the veneer of control, a squall raged, a maelstrom of fear and panic soon enough with anger and frustration. A combustible concoction of emotions threatening to spill over.
I could end this now.
I entertained the notion of striking him down then and there, but reason prevailed, and the risks in hand. I would reveal myself and cause collateral damage, inviting unwanted attention, such as the government or authorities.
So, I bided my time, keeping my ki level low in a desperate bid to evade detection. As I grappled with my options, a sense of resignation settled over me. Escape seemed tempting, but the specter of King Piccolo's wrath was a grim reminder of the consequences.
If I left, there was a possibility he would kill everyone here. This only added to more guilt than I already had and toiled my emotional state.
I am in a fucked up situation here.
My plan, once so simple, now lay in ruins at my feet as the weight of my predicament bore down upon me; I could only curse the cruel irony of fate, mocking me at every turn, not getting my aspirations.
"It is time for the lottery! Participants will be paired. According to the numbers drawn!"
A hush fell over the crowd, broken only by the shuffling of feet as a man stepped forward, clutching a small box, his movements deliberate as he made his way toward us. As the participants formed a line, I joined them, I cursed under my breath, my fists clenched in frustration.
What the hell am I supposed to do now? How long has he been out there? Has he been training? He could be stronger, and smarter, and I'm just walking into this blind!
I got to the front of the line, and my hand reached into the box, fingers trembling as I fumbled for a card. With bated breath, I withdrew the slip of paper, my heart pounding in my chest. I unfolded the paper, revealing the number sixty-two.
Eyes scanning the board, I located my spot in Block Four of the second half; my gaze lingered, wondering what King Piccolo's number would be. I could almost feel his eyes on me, a silent threat hanging in the air.
Would he recognize me? Or is he suspicious of me? Maybe he already knows it's me. Is that why I can feel him staring at me?
The announcer's voice pierced the silence once more, announcing the commencement of the preliminaries. I exhaled a quiet sigh, deciding to bide my time; I settled into the sidelines, eyes flickering across the arena, content to watch the battles unfold before my turn arrived.
Observing the podium, my gaze fell upon the two contenders standing tall. One, a towering figure with a rich, dark complexion, exuded strength and determination. While the other, with a lighter, pale skin tone, well-built physique, and spiky black hair, emanated an aura of focused tranquility.
A hush fell over the arena as they exchanged words along with a bow, a customary gesture of respect. With a call from the referee, the duel commenced. The first fighter assumed his stance; the other remained motionless.
It was then that I noticed it, a subtle yet undeniable aura emanating from the second combatant. A palpable sense of power, tempered by an eerie calmness. Curiosity gripped me as I watched, my mind spinning with possibilities.
Maybe... maybe I can find someone to defeat King Piccolo?
Before I could delve deeper into the notion, a sudden flurry of action shattered the stillness. The second contestant, swift as a phantom, caught his adversary off guard. Panic gripped the first fighter, his frantic search for his unseen assailant ending in a devastating blow that sent him crashing to the ground, consciousness slipping away.
"Number One has fainted... Number Two is the winner!"
The crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers and murmurs, their excitement mirroring my astonishment at the victor's prowess. His speed was unparalleled, defying human limits, leaving me awestruck, and igniting a glimmer of hope within me. My eyes flitted to the tournament board. Only eight would advance to the next stage, and among them, perhaps lay the key to my salvation.
I resolved to scrutinize each contender, searching for the one whose strength and skill might rival that of King Piccolo. It was a gamble, a desperate bid to get out of my situation. But as the cheers of the crowd washed over me, I dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, I could get what I wanted.
Just a way out.
Time seemed to blur as I faced one opponent after another, each presenting a unique challenge. They tested my restraint as I held back my strength. I found myself momentarily immersed in the thrill of battle, only to be abruptly reminded of King Piccolo's looming presence.
I sensed his gaze upon me, analyzing my every move, probing for weaknesses. And in turn, I found myself studying him, gauging the depth of his power and the extent of his skills. He was still brutal as ever.
As the rounds progressed, the arena thinned, each defeat marking the departure of yet another competitor. With a call from the referee, it was my turn to take the stage once more. The final bout to determine who would ascend to the ranks of the top eight fighters.
"Number Fifty-nine and Sixty-two, step forward!"
With measured steps, I approached the center of the arena, locking eyes with my opponent. It was a light-skinned woman, she was a vision of strength and grace, her slender frame exuding an air of confidence.
Her long black hair flowed behind her, tied in a neat ponytail, framing her striking features. Clad in a vibrant blue cheongsam, she stood poised and ready, her black eyes focused and unwavering.
As the referee signaled the start of the match, I lunged forward, fists clenched in anticipation. My strikes met with swift blocks and dodge, her movements fluid and calculated. But I was determined, pressing on with a relentless barrage of attacks.
With an estimated maneuver, I aimed a sidekick at her abdomen, eliciting a sharp grunt of pain. As I followed up with a roundhouse kick, she caught my leg, refusing to yield an inch.
Thinking on my feet, I shifted my weight, wrapping my other leg around her neck. With a twist of my body, I sent us both hurtling towards the edge of the ring. Gravity became my ally as we tumbled, my hands finding purchase on the arena floor just as I executed a perfect flip, using my momentum to launch her out of bounds.
As she crashed to the ground outside the ring, I landed gracefully on my hands and knees, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
As the referee's booming voice echoed through the arena, announcing my victory, a chorus of cheers erupted from the remaining fighters. I made my way down from the podium and I approached the woman I had just faced, rubbing her head with a grimace.
She could have cracked her skull, and even worse, she would have snapped her neck if she landed wrong.
"Are you alright? I'm sorry if I caused any damage to you," I offered, my words laced with genuine concern. The possibility of killing someone in this tournament if I didn't fix my survival instincts weighed heavily on my mind. The woman, still rubbing her head, waved off my concern with a dismissive gesture, though I could sense her frustration lingering beneath the surface.
"No–No, it's okay. I'm fine, uh..."
She muttered, her tone a mixture of annoyance and pain. I watched as she stormed away, her clenched fists betraying her frustration. Her abrupt departure left me standing there, grappling with the aftermath of the match.
At least she's not dead.
"You're still the same human as before," a deep voice interrupted my thoughts, drawing my attention to King Piccolo himself. His voice was laden with authority and a hint of amusement.
My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, a reminder of a past I had long tried to forget. Ignoring the weight of his words, I maintained a facade of indifference, refusing to acknowledge the connection between us. I was silent, but his words cut through the air like a knife.
"Your kindness will be your downfall in the future, [First Name]," he warned, his tone dripping with disdain. The mention of my name sent a jolt of fear coursing through me.
He knew it was me, that bastard. Fuck, why did I believe that he couldn't recognize me with my disguise. He's smart enough to figure it out.
"And your arrogance led to your downfall when I joined you," I retorted, my voice steady despite the emotions raging within me, but his next words caught me off guard.
"I still haven't forgotten about what you did to my father," he declared, his tone tinged with bitterness. The revelation left me speechless, my mind racing to piece together the dilemma.
"Father...?" I murmured, but before I could press further, a new voice echoed through the arena, drawing our attention to the next round of fighters. As King Piccolo retreated towards the arena entrance, leaving me to grapple with the revelation.
Did King Piccolo have a child?! When—how?— who?—what?
With a sense of unease gnawing at my gut, I followed the small group toward the entrance, keeping a wary eye on King Piccolo—or perhaps, his son. I joined the group of quarter-finalists, and I couldn't shake the nagging sense of dread that gnawed at my insides.
My gaze settled on the announcer, a striking figure with blonde hair, a distinguished mustache, and sunglasses perched atop his nose. His attire, a sharp navy-blue/black business suit wearing a pink shirt and a vibrant red necktie, he cleared his throat, adjusting his shades.
"Once again, we shall draw lots to determine the pairings for the next round," his voice reverberated through the auditorium, crisp and definitive. "Only two participants per match, no more. And a friendly reminder: check your costumes before entering the ring."
The mention of attire struck a nerve within me, a silent irritation at the thought of the notion of King Piccolo's presence being reduced to a mere costume rankled me, though I kept my emotions veiled.
How oblivious can people be? Unless this tournament had some peculiar individuals who wore costumes as normal.
I pondered silently as the blonde announcer produced a modest brown box, urging us to draw our lots. I lingered until the end of the line, drawing my lot to reveal the number.
"Four," I muttered under my breath, taking note of the number etched on the card before the names were jotted down. Scanning the roster for the upcoming quarterfinals, my curiosity was piqued by the peculiar matchups.
Match 1: Mercenary Tao vs. Tien
Match 2: Goku vs. Anonymous (a name I had chosen to conceal my identity)
Match 3: Junior vs. Krillin
Match 4: Hero vs. Yamcha.
My brow furrowed as I read the name 'Junior.' "Pardon me, but who is Junior?" queried a bald man, his confusion mirroring my own. The announcer's gesture toward King Piccolo's son revealed the depth of his ignorance, igniting a spark of empathy within me for those who remained oblivious to the true nature of this formidable being.
But who names themselves Junior? What? Did King Piccolo not care? Of course, he doesn't care; that's how he is. Why am I even acting surprised?
"Then whose Anonymous?"
The voice, a melodic blend of curiosity and youth, cut through the air. I turned my gaze towards the speaker, a competitor from the first round of Block One.
He stood tall and imposing, his skin aglow with a sun-kissed hue that seemed to dance in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the entrance and with spiky black hair framing his features.
He was Goku, my next opponent for the Second Match of the tournament.
"They would be the one named Anonymous," the announcer's words echoed through the hall, drawing attention to my masked figure. I felt the weight of the man's gaze upon me, his black eyes alight with a spark of excitement, perhaps virtue. A pang of unease rippled through me, urging me to avert my eyes, to shield myself from his scrutiny.
As the anticipation built for the commencement of the first match, the other competitors filtered out to the arena. Yet, Junior, King Piccolo's son, remained behind. I could sense his gaze burning into my back, a silent threat creeping under the surface of my composed facade.
Beneath the exterior of my composure, anxiety, and irritation simmered a volatile blend of fear and anger. Fear that this monstrous legacy had found its way here, but his son I did not know King Piccolo had. Anger at myself for daring to hope, for venturing out of hiding only to be stuck in a situation, and faith mocking me.
Why do I always have false hope?
The bitter taste of disappointment lingered on my tongue, a harsh reminder of the folly of false hope. In the tense silence that hung between us, my heart hammered against my ribs, with each beat echoing the uncertainty of what comes next.
I braced myself, waiting for an attack, for a confrontation, but none came. Every nerve screamed for escape, for release from the suffocating grip of fear. But as seconds stretched into eternity, Junior remained motionless, a silent sentinel watching from the sidelines.
Will there be anyone to actually end him without doing it myself?
Risk of getting attention from authorities, alerting the government? Or letting my hands dribble by the blood of innocents that he may kill, knowing I could have stopped him?
But I was simply a selfish and cold-hearted person, just wanting to survive.
Or was I?
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Finished: March 22, 2024
PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 001 | HOPE
NEXT CHAPTER: 003 | FATE'S GAMBLE
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Link to the book [Wattpad]:
The Gift of Immortality
DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader
#by_theunkn0wn-0#The Gift of Immortality#dragon ball x reader#dragon ball characters x reader#reader instert#x reader#x y/n#x gender neutral y/n#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader#x gn y/n#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral reader#gender neutral mc#gn reader#fanfiction#The Gift of Immortality-Season ONE#I apologize if there is any bad grammar or misspelled words
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Tutoring Session
oof okay so here you have a human au with dyscalculic Logan and dysgraphic Virgil because I can (note that I do not know any dysgraphic people and that Logan’s dyscalculia is based on my experience with it)
Pairings: one-sided analogical, background anxceit
Word count: 1,580
Warnings: deceit but he’s not in there for the most part, one-sided love I guess
Summary: Logan gets a tutor and catches feelings, then The Sad ensures
Logan sighed, "Are you sure I need tutoring?" he rubbed his hand uncomfortably, shifting in the driver's seat of his brother's car.
"Logan, you're failing your classes, yes, you need tutoring," Damon put his hand on the shorter one's shoulder, "Now get out, you're already late."
Logan stepped out of the car, getting out his phone as it buzzed. He heard the car pull out of the driveway and drive off as he checked his messages:
im here
nd ur late
He didn't bother typing out a response. Logan put the phone back into his pocket and opened the door to the library. Ruth, the librarian, glanced up at him and smiled, "Good day, Logan, nice to see you again so soon. Out of murder mysteries already?"
"No, I am supposed to have a tutoring session here, but thank you," Logan returned the smile and walked closer to the counter.
"Now, why would such a smart boy need tutoring?"
Logan felt a surge of panic flood him, quickly making up an excuse, good thing he learned from Damon, "No, I am supposed to tutor them."
Ruth quietly chuckled, "I see then, I think you're looking for the boy in the back. He's been sitting here for a few minutes now."
"Ah, yes, thank you, Ruth, I should get going," Logan walked through the towering shelves, looking at some people sitting against them, books discarded around them. Some of them were taking notes, some were reading, some were on their phone.
He reached the tables, most of them empty or with a large group of people. There were only a few with one or two people. Logan glanced around and tried to figure out who the tutor could be.
"You're late."
The deep voice behind him made Logan jerk and look around. Huh, the guy looked quite familiar, perhaps he saw him in the school or when he walked into Damon's room while he was having friends over. Nevertheless, that didn't make him any less intimidating, "I, uh, I apologize, it won't happen again."
The punk scoffed, "Yeah, I hope so. Look, just because Damon asked me to tutor you doesn't mean I will," he walked past Logan and over to an empty table with a few books on it. Logan followed, sitting opposite to the taller male.
Logan glanced at the covers of a few of the books, furrowing his eyebrows, "Most of these are from the 9th and 8th-grade curriculum."
"Well yeah, you gotta build up the basics," the pale man shrugged, pulling out a notebook out of his bag along with a pen titled 'notes' in messy handwriting.
Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes, "This is ridiculous," embarrassment and annoyance already building up in his chest. The punk didn't seem to be phased, other than raising his eyebrows, opening the notebook and sliding it across the table to Logan.
"Can you solve any of this?" Logan looked at a bunch of equations, none of them made sense to him. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to find the easiest to solve, but the numbers seemed to be just a bunch of random symbols that he could vaguely recognize. He knew them. He understood them, the teacher explained it to him multiple times. He should know this. The other one sighed, "That's what I thought," he slid the notebook back and Logan watched his only chance to escape this hell slide away into the taller man's hands.
"Fine, you win, I am bad at math," Logan refused to look at the other, instead looking down at the empty spot where the notebook once was.
"You're not bad at math, you have dyscalculia."
That's even worse, Logan thought. Why couldn't he just get a normal tutor? Oh, right, he already tried that, but then his parents either couldn't afford it so he had to get a cheaper one, or the tutor 'just wasn't used to tutoring someone with a learning disability'. He hated when people called it that. Technically, he knows there's so shame in having one, but he just can't help but feel that other's view him at 'stupid' or 'lazy' because of it. He tries, he really does. He excels in history, has a B+ in economics, the English teacher uses his papers as an example of perfect grammar, but he just has to have an F in algebra and geometry. He just had to have a D in chemistry.
Fingers with black nail polish snap in front of his face, "Hey, specs, you listening?"
"Uh, yes, of course. I apologize," Logan adjusted his glasses, "What were you saying?"
"I asked you what you wanna start with," the punk put a hand under his chin and squinted his eyes, "I would pick the one you struggle the least with."
"I suppose, geometry it is then."
The other's eyes widened a bit at that, "You, uh, you sure specs?" the hand that wasn't supporting his head began fiddling with the pen. Logan nodded. The taller one opened the notebook and filtered through a few of the pages until finally settling on an empty one. He clicked the pen, then paused for a second before bringing it to the page and writing what Logan thought was a math problem. After he repeated the process a few times, he flipped the notebook to face Logan, "Alright, the first three should be fine for an 8th grader. So, the first one is a graph-"
"Yes, I can see that but your handwriting is just horrendous, I can't read anything," Logan glanced over the page, the problems being randomly scattered across the page, completely ignoring the lines, being shaky in some places and words misspelled. One would think a 3rd grader wrote this.
The pale one looked away, somehow growing even paler if Logan could see correctly, "Well, yeah I guess, I have dysgraphia. I can dictate it to you if you wanna..."
It was Logan's turn to be shocked, "Oh, I apologize. I didn't know, uhh..." Logan wondered at the other's name, realizing that neither he or his brother told him.
"Virgil, it's Virgil."
"What a charming name..." Logan mumbled in a barely audible voice before he could stop himself. He hopes Virgil didn't hear it. If he did, he does not mention it, "Y-yes, as I was saying, I am sorry. Virgil."
Virgil looked at the notebook, "Yeah, it's whatever, I'm used to it. I could, like, dictate it to you and you could write it? That'll kill to flies with one rock," he reached his hand with the pen in it over to Logan, waiting for him to take it.
Logan's lips twitched up involuntarily for a moment, before taking the pen in his hand, "Yes, I suppose that would be satisfactory," he bought over Virgil's notebook, turning to a clear page, "So, could you repeat the problems?"
Virgil smiled, what a sight to see, "Right so, the first one is a graph..." Virgil leaned on the table as Logan wrote. Seeing such clear handwriting was kinda cool. They sent the rest of the session doing geometry, only touching on algebra by the end.
Logan averted his head from the worksheet Virgil had brought when he heard his phone buzz, "Sorry, just a second," he unlocked the phone, reading a text from Damon.
times up, L, i am here to save u.
"It's from Damon, looks like the session is over," Logan said to Virgil as he typed out a response before turning his phone off:
Just a minute.
"Damn, it really is late. Well, guess I'll see you later specs, remind your mom to pay me," he looked up to find Virgil doing the two-finger salute and walking away.
"Logan."
Virgil stopped and turned around, "What?" he raised an eyebrow.
"My name. It's Logan."
Virgil smirked, "Yeah, specs, I already know," he already turned on his heel and walked away behind the bookshelves before Logan could say another thing. Speaking of Logan, he had begun walking to the exit, saying a quick goodbye to Ruth and pushing the door open. In the parking lot of the library was already standing the yellow sedan that belonged to his brother. He walked over and opened the door.
"So, how was it? Not that bad, huh?"
Logan rolled his eyes and shut the door, "I suppose so..." his phone buzzed again. Logan looked at the new message.
i thnk u clud read my 13 wnter by samnta abeeel its rlly good
i thnk yull like it
lso th number snse is cool
Logan smiled and replied back:
Sure will do, thank you for the recommendation.
He didn't need to wait even a minute for the response:
no prblm
"Who's that?" Damon glanced over at Logan's phone.
"Oh," Logan saved his number as 'Virge' "Just my tutor."
Damon laughed and pulled out of the driveway, "Just don't steal him away from me."
Logan gripped his phone tighter, "He's your boyfriend?" some part he represses pray that he's not. Damon nods. Logan feels his heart sink.
"Yeah, the only one who lasted more than a year. Can you believe that? He actually likes me for me," Logan spotted the subconscious smile on his older brother's face. Of course, he had to like a taken guy. Just Logan's luck.
"Good for you. Also, he told me to remind mom to pay him," Logan renames the contact to 'Tutor' then puts the phone away, ignoring the buzzing of a new message.
#sanders sides#logan sandes#virgil sanders#deceit sanders#human au#anxceit#analogical#one sided love#again im sorry for grammar mistakes#this is so sad cortana play logans rap bit#oof it really is two in the morning but here i am#enjoy#also note i do not know how dysgraphic people text#and internet didnt show me anything#so im sorry if its not accurate#also#Ruth#we stand a librarian queen
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Hey! I’ve been reading your work and I was wondering what advice you could give someone who’s trying to start a writing blog and also an aspiring author?
Hello, fellow writer! 😃 I started my writing blog a few months ago, so I’m still learning a lot from my fellow writeblrs, but I’d be happy to share what’s helped me in creating my blog—although most, if not all, of my advice is going to be stolen from @pens-swords-stuff lovely post here, which I’d definitely recommend checking out. 😉
~Reach out to other writeblrs
This is really important if you’re looking to gain a following count. Follow them, reblog and comment on their writing, slip into their inbox, etc. The writeblr community is super supportive—I’ve met so many lovely writers on this site—and not only is it a wonderful experience to interact with other writers and read their work, but it’s also a great way to start making yourself known.
Post writing-related stuff, not just original writing:
As fun (and sometimes nerve wracking 😅) as it is to post your writing, it’s also great to sprinkle some other stuff in there alongside your WIP: relatable writing memes, writing prompts, etc. I’ve only just begun to post my own writing on my blog, so I can credit many of my followers to the writing memes and prompts that I post.
Again, I’d definitely recommend checking out @pens-swords-stuff post here, which is a great resource for new writeblrs.
Now, I’m not quite sure if this is part of your question, but you mentioned being an aspiring author when you asked for advice, so I’ll throw in some of what I’ve learned in my writing journey.
I officially decided that I wanted to be a writer a little over a year-and-a-half ago. In that time, I’ve learned TONS about what works best for be when I write. Here’s what I’ve discovered:
~I have to give myself permission to write a bad draft. When I first start writing a scene/chapter, I always start with a freewrite first. A freewrite is the most liberating thing I can do as a writer: I write without fear of messing up, because in a freewrite, it is IMPOSSIBLE to mess up. Here’s a good definition I found on study.com:
“Freewriting is the practice of writing down all your thoughts without stopping, and without regard for spelling, grammar, or any of the usual rules for writing.”
You basically write without stopping. You throw your thoughts on the page in a jumbled heap, and you keep going with no thought to misspelled words, fragmented sentences, or a paragraph you think could be phrased better. I usually set a ten minute timer and just write whatever comes to my mind. It’s really helpful for me, because it helps me flesh out where I want the chapter to go, what I want the characters to do, the rough sketch of the words I will use—and I do it all without fear of not being perfect, because a freewrite tosses the idea of perfection out the window!
Trying to write a perfect first draft is impossible for me. In freewriting, I remind myself of that, and I let go of the fear of writing “bad writing” and simply allow myself to write without restriction.
~After my freewrite, I start my first draft. This is where I rewrite my freewrite. My freewrite is a jumbled, discordant mess of half-assembled thoughts, choppy dialogue, rambling sentences, and nonsensical transitions—and in rewriting it, I attempt to tidy it up a bit. I’ve learned that for myself, I can’t aim for perfection; I become too caught up in all the tiny details and start to obsess over them. So for my first draft, I simply try to rewrite my freewrite not so that it’s not perfect (which I find to be an impossible standard anyway), but so that it’s slightly less messy.
~Then I move onto the second draft, and the third, and the fourth; through each draft, I slowly create a piece that becomes better and better: The dialogue become smoother and more natural; scattered words morph from building blocks and into solid, vivid imagery; the sentences flow together well and the variety in their structure is easy on the reader’s eye.
~After I reach a point where I’m satisfied with the last draft I’ve written, I usually take a break from it. I wait anywhere between a few days to a few weeks (sometimes longer) before I look back at it with fresh editing eyes. :)
Wow, that got long and kinda turned into a rabbit trail. 😳🐰 Sorry.
To sum up my advice for aspiring writers: Give yourself permission to write badly. Not all of your words will be perfect. And that’s okay. Think of the “bad words” (for lack of a better term) as the foundation for the “good words” (asldjgalsg I need to come up with better terms 🙈) that you will write.
Again, that’s just my writing process, and that’s what I’ve found works really, really well for me personally. Every writer has their different writing process, so definitely do what works best for you.
I’m SUPER sorry for how long this response is. I’m not even sure if the second part of my response was included in your question. If it wasn’t, then please ignore me, and my deepest apologies for tossing all these words at you. 😅
I wish you the best of luck in your writing journey! If any other writeblrs want to jump in and add their thoughts, then please do so!!
-Nutmeg ❤️
#writing#writing advice#writeblr#writers#writing tips#im so sorry this took me so long to respond to!!#writers on tumblr#just writer things#just writer stuff#writblr#writing and nutmeg#also wow youve been reading my work? advhjjdfj that makes me so happy#thank you!#oof i just realized hiw long and rambling this is#wow im sorry
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getting into a fight with exo and making up (ot9)
baekhyun
baekhyun was pretty stressed out because your birthday was coming up and he was going to go on tour soon. so instead of spending time with you, he had to be practicing all the time. one day baekhyun was showing you a performance on and you made a comment about how tiny he looks next to chanyeol. “literally everyone calls me so tiny but i’m taller than average.” baekhyun said getting up and storming off into his room. you didn’t realize that you upset him that much. you felt so bad because you knew how stressed he was. you walked to his room and knocked on the door. “what”, he said through the door. “hey, i’m sorry i called you tiny, i know you’re not i just like teasing you about it. i love you no matter what. will you forgive me please?”, you asked him. he opened the door and gave you a hug. “i love you too.”, he said holding you tight.
chanyeol
chanyeol had been in his music room all day. you haven’t heard from him all day. music was his life, and when it doesn’t work out, he got mad. you texted him about five minutes earlier to tell him that the pizza you ordered was here, no answer. you knocked on his door. “it’s open.”, he said. you walked in, there were crumpled pieces of paper everywhere and his hair was a mess. “i don’t like you being stuck in here all day you need to eat.” “i’m working. bring me the pizza.”, he said. “i don’t know what you want so come get it.”, you said back to him. “just bring me the food already!!”, he yelled. you didn’t know what to do, and more importantly you didn’t know what he was going to do. all of this was too much for you so you just ran into the bathroom and started crying. about thirty seconds later there he was on the other side of the bathroom door telling you to come out and that he was sorry. after him reasoning with you, he wrapped his arms around you and comforted you. “i’ll never yell at you again y/n.”
chen
a normal day with you and chen consisted of you guys roasting each other. but today was just a quiet and relaxing. your boyfriend chen inspired you so much, he was such a talented vocalist and it made you want to be just like him. you guys were relaxing on the couch watching tv and a commercial came on. the chicken wing commercial came on, and the song in it is your guilty pleasure. so when it came on you were ready to sing it. you were so into it, you sang every single word to the best of your ability, but i guess that wasn’t enough for chen. he just looked at you for a second. then he called someone “hey it’s chen, yeah i was just wondering if you have an opening for singing lessons? yeah it’s for my grilfriend, next thursday at six? okay sounds great see you then bye.”, he ended the call. “okay, so i got you some singing lessons okay?” you just looked at him in awe, he’s always been so supporting of anything you were going to do, so for him to act like this was weird. you were overwhelmed by his epic roast. you didn’t know what to do so you just went on your phone and didn’t talk to him. “hey, y/n, it was just a joke, i didn’t mean for it so sound like that. i’m sorry.”, he said trying to reassure you. you just gave him the silent treatment. “i’m sorry, you actually sounded really good and the last thing i would ever want to do is offend you. i love you please know that.” you put your head on his shoulder and sighed, “it’s okay, i love you too chen.”
D.O.
it was just a normal day with D.O., after some shopping you were looking for a place to eat dinner at. being the gentleman that he is, he decided to ask you if there was anything that you wanted. he expected you to just say a normal ‘i don’t care’ or ‘anything’s fine’. but you responded with “i’m not hungry.” you said. “okay i was just wondering if you were craving anything.” he said. “i’m not.”, you said hostility. “okay chill.”, he said. he didn’t understand why you were acting like this. “is it really that big of a deal, i just want you to eat.”, he said. “i’ve just been struggling with my weight lately.”, you said. d.o. immediately felt bad for what he said. “oh y/n, i didn’t know it was like that i’m sorry if i made you feel bad. i love you for you, no matter what, remember that.” “i love you too.”
kai
one day you and kai were in the car, kai was driving, and call me baby came on the radio. he kept trying to do the dance instead of focusing on driving, and you were not having it. he was so into it, he was singing everyone’s part and doing the dance perfectly. of course you were happy that he was having such a good time, but he need needed to focus on driving. he kept swerving because he wanted to do the dance perfectly. you turned the volume down all the way. “hey!”, kai said. “you need to focus on driving.”, you said. “i’m driving perfectly fine.” he retaliated. “no you’re not pull over.”, you threatened. “fine! i’ll stop.”, he said. it was silent in the car for the rest of the ride home. when you got home, you immediately got out of the car and walked into your house. kai just stood there not realizing how he made you feel. he walked in the house. “i’m sorry...sometimes i just get too caught up in the music and i don’t realize what’s going on. i’m sorry.”, he apologized. “i get it, your group is like your whole life, i understand. it’s okay.”, you said.
lay
your whole life was filled with lay, and his whole life was filled with you. so when you two are apart is kind of hard. you always texted him when you got off work and that you were on your way home, because he worries. and of course, the one day you forget your charger, your phone dies, and lay is waiting for you to get home. already frustrated from the situation, you just drive home and hope everything’s okay when you get home. you walk in the door and he just stares at you. “why were you ignoring me?”, he asked. “my phone died.”, you answered. “is it that hard for you to find a charger?”, he said, looking hurt, “you know i worry about you. i want to spend every second with you and it makes me feel so disconnected from you when you’re at work.” you looked back at him sadly, the last thing you would ever want to do is hurt him. “i’ll buy a new charger for my car okay?”, you said. “okay let’s go get one right now.” he said.
sehun
you and sehun had been dating for a while now and every once in a while the rest of exo would come over and hang out with everyone. but something you noticed is that whenever all of you guys would hang out, it’s like sehun was a different person. it’s like he was disconnected from you, you would sit next to him and listen to everyone’s conversations. he wouldn’t talk to you and once they were gone he would act like nothing happened and go back to being his normal self. one day, you finally had to guts to talk to him about it. “why do you never talk to me when the others are here.” you said coming off way more annoyed than you actually were. he just sighed and tried to change the subject. he pointed towards the tv, “this show looks cool, let’s watch all of it tonight.” “no answer my question, stop trying to change the subject.”, you said back. “why don’t you wanna watch the show?” he asked. “answer my question!”, he yelled. “they don’t know we’re dating yet... i’m the last one to get a girlfriend and they keep teasing me about it. i just don’t know how to break the news to them.”, he confessed. “it’s okay. i get that you’re embarrassed, but they’re going to need to know sometime.”, you said calmly back. “okay, i’ll tell them next time we all meet up.”, he planned.
suho
like a normal couple, you and suho always roasted each other. but being the leader of exo, he’s got eight people constantly roasting him, so sometimes, it becomes a little too much. you were in the mood to do some roasting and you told suho he’s not funny after he made a joke that he laughed at. normally very talkative, when suho was going quiet for a little bit it concerned you. “hey could you not say that stuff about me anymore.”, he asked. “why? i’ll stop i’m just wondering.”, you replied politely. “i have to deal with everyone in my group talk about me in the way all day, so when i come home i wanna relax, not have to deal with more of the same.” he explained. “i totally understand.”, you replied.
xiumin
xiumin is so organized so you just assumed that he enjoyed cleaning, so you started picking up after yourself less. normally when he was doing the house chores he was easygoing and just normal. but, today was different. he seemed really frustrated. “what is it xiumin?”, you asked. “our house is a mess.”, he replied. “do you need help?”, you asked wanting to do anything that would make him feel better. “what would really help is you picking up after yourself.”, xiumin said. you felt so bad, you wanted to cry. “i’m so sorry i’ll help you right now. i just assumed you liked cleaning.”, you apologized. “don’t worry about it it’s okay.”, he reassured.
a/n:hi, i hope you guys liked this one, it was kind of all over the place but i hope it turned out well. this was a request for @uhugica (also sorry if there are any misspellings or grammar errors it’s late)
#these are mega dramatic be prepared guys#there's nothing more epic than chanyeols#some of these are kind lame im sorry#some are better than others#d.o.'s was really short im sorry#exo#exo reaction#exo reactions#exo scenario#kpop reactions#kpop#ot9#exo ot9
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KNK / Defending A Foreign Celeb Speaking Korean
This was requested in my messages. You guys can also do it on anon if you want~! “KNK reaction to being on the same show as their foreign celebrity crush and the hosts make fun of their accent when they speak Korean and defending her?”
I *almost* forgot that KNK is a visual group. Shit. STAN TALENT. STAN KNK. Enjoy this gif of Youjin ‘cause I miss my dad and hope he’s doing well!
Jihun: He would instantly know that the teasing was supposed to come off as playful but that doesn’t mean he’ll like it. He’ll peep it the first time quietly but he’ll look over to you and check if you’re comfortable with it. He would let it slide but if it continued, he would have to shut that shit down. Not only was he a leader so he felt the need to protect others but if you were his crush, he would definitely not tolerate that nonsense, and especially not in front of him. He would defend you straight out with something like “Y/N-ssi speaks Korean better than I do!” followed up by “Your accent is very cute.” to distract the hosts so they’ll end up teasing him for complimenting you. If it continues, he’ll show his irritation with the hosts by reassuring you quietly (he sat right next to you- you’re his crush duh) and asking if you were okay every now and then. If you end up defending yourself, he’ll back you up. After the recording, he’ll sneak off from the group to find you and will apologize but you reassure him it wasn’t his fault but he’ll still feel pretty bad. “Let me make it up to you by taking you out for coffee~?” Smooth with the flirting but hey, he’s cute so you put your number in his phone. (Ignore Youjin lmao)
Seoham: At first, he’s a little awkward with it. You’re his crush so he doesn’t want to you to feel uncomfortable but he doesn’t want to be rude to the hosts. He’ll watch it for a bit and if no one else says anything, he’ll step in and try to distract the hosts with some comedy or doing something random that catches their attention. Probably will make small comments here and there to you like “You speak very well. Are you sure you’re not Korean?” as a joke or will direct their comments to his members. He may even keep turning their attention to him solely so they won’t pick on you. You would have to defend yourself if it continued but he would silently give his support before changing the subject. He would stay close to you during the filming and ask your opinion on things/topics here and there. Wouldn’t give the hosts much time to talk to you since he’s monopolizing your time but you appreciate the effort and talk to him during the lunch break. He would tell you that if you were uncomfortable then he could talk to the hosts about making comments to you. You wouldn’t want him to get in trouble but for the rest of the shoot, he would make sure to include you in everything they did/talked about and even would ask you where you’re from and things from your home. 9/10 would do ageyo for you or a TT dance cover so you laugh.
Dongwon: Doesn’t find it funny at all when the hosts mocks your accent and that you mixed some words up. He isn’t going to care if everyone else is laughing, he’ll shut it down quickly. “I personally love when I talk to foreigners and they take the time to learn our language. It’s not easy and I appreciate the hard work and effort it takes to learn a second language. Having an accent makes it sound even better.” The boys are around him like “:) yo chill :)” but he’ll shrug, the awkward air doesn’t effect him at all. He’d stay by your side for the entire shooting and would encourage you to speak more than anyone, asking you questions that have nothing to do with the topic they’re talking about. He’s the type to let you defend yourself if you had to, but he can’t not say anything either so if it continued even after you tried to change the subject, he would be like “Okay, if it’s such a problem, let’s all only speak in English. If you can’t hold a conversation in English, then you shouldn’t make fun of anyone who learned a second language.” He would definitely need a moment to compose himself so he was thankful when their manager asked the director for a break. After getting an earful from their managers, he’d still be pretty pissed about it. You’d peek into the dressing rooms and let him know you were thankful for him defending you but felt bad that you got into trouble. He wouldn’t even worry about it tbh because holy shit, she actually went out of her way to come and talk to me! Playing it cool though, and would tell you that he won’t react so harshly to make you feel better when they go back. Ofc, Dongwon is going to stay around you, hovering almost and glaring at the hosts if they even try to ask him anything. The members would have to speak for him most times. He’s not with the bullying. Your manager encourages you to give him your number since you were too shy to just do it during the break. He’s smiling like crazy for days after.
Inseong: Silently watches it for the first half. He’ll laugh it off when you do but if he notices you’re not comfortable with it, he’s going to be attentive. Doesn’t matter what’s going on, he’ll make it a point to sneak his way over to you (if he wasn’t already glued to your side) and say subtle things like “Wah~ Your pronouncing is amazing. You’ve been studying for a long time, huh?” He’s going to type you up in everything you do as well, if you do games or activites. He’ll try his hardest to be on your team or if not, will fail purposefully so you win then celebrate your victory with his signature dramatic flare and yelling. “You’re so talented! Bilingual and the best athlete ever, wow.” If it continued, he would turn the questions/comments on the hosts in small ways that only the other members would really understand. “Speaking of grammar, the sign over there with the show’s name on it is misspelled. Who did that? Y/N-ssi is the best Korean speaker here, she can help with grammar mistakes, right?” You’d know exactly what he’s doing and thank him, smiling like an idiot. Afterwards, you would seek him out to thank him in person. He would probably be in panic mode that his celeb crush was talking to him in private (ohmygod, why is she so cute and looking at me. Oh she asked me a question!!) and would blush and stutter the entire time ‘cause he’s a shy bunny. Accidentally mentions his love for you and that he binge watches you on YouTube. Panics and tries to high tail it out of there as fast as he can, but ends up telling the boys that he’s in love. (”You tell us that everyday, just ask her out. Gosh.”)
Heejun: Attitude on 100, instantly. “She speaks better than you do, though and you’re actually Korean. So what’s your excuse?” His sass would know no limits ‘cause to him, learning languages is an amazing skill. It’s not like the host could speak English like a pro and he was certain no one else on the set could match you in terms of skill in both English and Korean. So making fun of someone for speaking a different language is going to irk the fuck out of him. The second member to legitimately get upset if the teasing kept continuing after you tried to laugh it off, like he’s actually going to say something that will probably make him look disrespectful. “When you get as good in English as she is in Korean, then you can comment on her speech. Until then, let’s move on to the next subject.” Jihun would have to tell him to pipe it down between a tight smile. He would listen and shut his mouth but he would not be happy about it, won’t speak unless directly asked a question (one word answers if he could or direct it to whoever was next to him so they could answer for him) and will barely smile the entire time. If you two were sitting near each other (or standing) he would be sure to talk to you and ask if you were alright, wanted to take a break, etc. It would be very obvious to everyone on set that he’s not with the bullshit. Jaw clenched, eyes narrow the entire time the host is speaking to you, ears open to listen for any more disrespect towards you. He would only, honestly, calm down when you smile and tell him thank you for defending you like that after the recording. Another one to get your number to “make it up to you” with a date~ (Imagine an upset Heejun, sounds hot af)
#knk#knk reaction#knk scenario#keunakeun#kim jihun#oh heejun#jeong inseong#lee dongwon#park seoham#Park Seungjun#wow i love them#idk who is my bias now#im just a hoe for knk
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it's me again! Can you do Y, I, and W for swap paps?
Just did I over here, but the other two for Paps (Underswap Papyrus), no prob!
Y = Yuck(Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)
Did I mention that Paps is a literature nerd? He is. He’s a big literature nerd, so it follows that one of his biggest pet peeves is bad spelling and grammar.
Abbreviations and acronyms are fine, he’s not about to get his feathers all ruffled by an ‘LOL’ his s/o texts him or a sticky-note reminder to ‘clean the apt.’ but some stuff can really get to him.
Misuses of ‘there/they’re/their’ make him twitch a little and so does ‘your/you’re,’ the usual suspects that bug a grammar stickler.
He’s not a particularly high-strung guy, though, so it takes a lot to actually push Paps into snapping over something. It took years of walking past that stupid sign for the ‘LIBRARBY’ in Snowdin and hating how wrong it was before he lost his cool and ‘vandalized’ the sign.
Sky (Underswap Sans) never asked Paps why he just had a giant letter ‘B’ in his room one day. He’d heard all of his little brother’s complaints about it and figured this was just an inevitability.
As for Paps’ s/o…if they’re not a great speller, he may try to ever-so-gently correct them if they misspell or incorrectly use a word the same way for long enough, but he’ll try not to let it bother him too much as long as it’s an honest mistake.
He’s…considerably less forgiving if it’s something they’re doing on purpose because they know it bothers him, though. In that case, Paps’ s/o should expect a cold shoulder until they apologize for being a dick.
As for something he does that might bug his s/o… He’s pretty messy and he doesn’t put things back the way he should.
His room and eventually the whole house is going to end up looking like an office supply tornado came through–books and pencils and paper scattered all over the damn place–unless his brother or his s/o reminds him he needs to rein in his clutter.
They’ll also have to watch any food that could go stale like a hawk because Paps is the worst at making sure seals are airtight before closing things. Many a bag of cereal and loaf of bread have gotten hard and unpleasantly crunchy over this and it doesn’t really impact him because he’ll just eat it anyway. His s/o…will probably take more exception to it, but there’s not much to be done.
Getting Paps to properly close stuff is a battle that Sky’s been fighting for decades and he’d be the first to tell his brother’s s/o that it’s an unwinnable war.
W = Wild Card(Get a random domestic headcanon of the character of your choice)
Paps is a huuuuuge whiner when he gets sick. He’s a textbook case of the ‘Man Cold’ sufferer, absolutely convinced he’s at death’s door over even the most minor of illnesses and determined to moan and whine about it all the way to the grave, which is obviously near.
It makes it pretty difficult and annoying for his s/o to take care of him because he’ll openly, shamelessly beg for them to help him, but…
Well, he’ll eat the soup they made him and take the medicine they brought, but he just doesn’t see how it will do any good against whatever monster-killing plague he’s caught. He’s clearly still going to die, but he’ll make sure his s/o gets at least half of his stuff when he kicks the bucket, can they just find his Last Will and Testament real quick? “thanks, hon, you’re a peach…“
The drama is exasperating enough to make even a saint of an s/o roll their eyes, but at least Paps is good at bed-rest and will probably get over The Plague quickly.
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