#I’m way past the point of wishing we could switch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

igotanidea · 8 days

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Loose control: Jason Todd x reader

NSFW! MDNI!

warnings: smut, oral, mention of hormonal contraception and swearing.

***

She was confused.

In her best knowledge, she believed that if anything, going on a pill would make her moody, whiny and oversensitive, therefore not fond of sex.

Instead she found herself hot and bothered and needy at every fucking second of every fucking day!

Her thoughts were filled with dirty, steamy scenarios, definitely not involving any clothes at all.

Certain smells were reminding her of the moments they used to share together, tangled in the sheets in each other’s arms.

Hell! Even sounds were making her so fucking horny!

“Hey babe, you good? You look a little-“

Before Jason could form his concerns into words, her lips were on his and her hands in his hair. She was not good. And she definitely looked a little whatever, but at that moment it was not important at all. What mattered though, was getting his hands on her body as soon as possible, under the threat of her combusting from desire. God, she needed him now and long and hard. The way her hormones were messed up due to contraception could really put Ivy’s sex pollen to shame, but at this point Y/N was way past pretending and holding back.

Meanwhile, Jason, instead of putting his hands on her, according to her silent wishes, raised them both in the air in pure shock. What happened to his girl? To the one who never ventured further than missionary? To the one who refused to let him eat her out for the longest time due to (quote) thick thighs and belief she did not deserve it? To the one who was always so shy and timid? And now she was all over him?

Not that he complained, but before he got as much as a glimpse of a chance to wrap arms around her waist and pull her on top of him, she withdrew.

“I’m sorry-“

“Come back here-“ he muttered this time doing all the things his body was commanding him to. He was never the one to refuse his girl, especially not when she was initiating one, for once. It was fucking hot to see her like this.

Their tongues entwined in an intricate ballet, dancing on the thin edge between soft passion and roughness, testing the barriers, almost teasing the other to step over the bridge. He lead and she followed. That was how it always was. But this time was about to be different.

She needed control. She wanted control.

Or even more – she demanded it.

And from the moment he spread her legs so she could straddle him, things were about to deviate from established order.

“Y/N…” Jason whispered in her ear, kissing her neck in so familiar way, his hands moving up her body, over her thighs, lifting the hem of her dress in the process, tracing over her hips and resting there, starting to guide her movements, even if they were both still in clothes and –

“No.” she suddenly said, grabbing his hands and patting them away.

“No?” Jason repeated, his voice and face full of mixed feelings including confusion, amusement and leniency. “No?”

The hell?

Y/N was refusing him the pleasure she knew he could bring her.

But a second ago she was ready to take what she wanted from him, not caring whether he liked it or not.

The fuck was going on?!

“Not like that.” She elaborated, easing the anger stemming from within him “Not like always…”

“Oh, so my feisty vixen wants something new?”

“Something like that” she smirked

“Let me see…” he switched position a little, making sure that his already erect cock brushed over her core. “There are so many positions I want to try with you. You were so shy during all this year, we have a lot to experience together…” while he was whispering those sweet promises against her body, his tongue dared to taste her skin.

“Mmm. No…” she muttered again, though it was a little harder this time. Reaching to the deepest layers of her strength she managed to push him onto his back, so she was towering over him.

“Oh, I see…” he smirked, crossing arms over his head. “If that's the way you want to play, be my guest tonight baby. I’m more than curious to see what- oh! Fuck!”

His mocking tone was cut off abruptly when she grind against him. Just once. Through the clothes. But for some reason, unbeknown to either of them, there was something so deeply sensual about Y/N taking control it only fueled the intensity.

And seeing the way his face was already twisting with need for more?

Let’s just say that good girl Y/N was gone instantly.

“Come on baby, don’t stop now. Loose control for me…” he muttered, grabbing onto her hips, ready to tear off that stupid dress from her body. Anything to get that warm, wet folds clenching over his shaft.

“Stay down, boy.” She patted his hands away and onto the bed. “No touching until I say so, you hear me?”

“Fuck…” the fire in her eyes melt all the objections and refusals he might have.

“Be a good boy for me or I’ll have to bind you…”

As much as he wouldn’t mind going a little rough, binding was something he wouldn’t handle well, dur to his past experiences, so the only thing left to do was nod his head. Yes, he’ll be a good boy if that meant continuance of watching her transform into some sort of sex goddess above him.

Even if keeping his hands to himself might also result in torn-up sheets.

Y/N only smiled wilder and placed both hands on his chest, running them all over, relishing in the sense and scope of control over both his and her pleasure she was having now. Purposefully, tracing his muscles over the material of his shirt, touching all the places she knew was making him harder and more needy.

Under any other circumstances, he would hate being toyed with like that and his head would fill in with the memories where he was forced to stay sill while someone else’s hands were torturing him. But this was Y/N. His Y/N. His woman, who was only the bringer of pleasure, in one form or another. And now it took the form of her pampering him and being reduced to clay she was forming to her liking.

When she was done with testing his self-control, almost making him wet his pants she focused on putting her hands to some other use.

Still straddling him, she traced over her thighs, slowly, sensually, then her hips, lifting them off his bulge, swaying a little, causing him to burn and grit his teeth. The hem of her dress was going higher in time with her deft fingers, slowly moving to her waist. That tantalizing waist that was meant to be gripped by him, but instead was caressed by her soft touches while Jason could only watch and fantasize. At this point he could see the edge of her tiny panties, so infuriatingly close and already moist from her own arousal.

And then came her breasts, palms moving over to those perfectly round soft molds, touching, squeezing and forcing sweet sounds from the back of her throat.

Fuck.

She was moaning and throwing her head back, imagining him touching her like this.

He was groaning, digging nails into the mattress, envisioning quite the same thing.

“Take that dress off…” he couldn’t stop himself from the silent plea, throwing himself to the knees of this powerful celestial being that his woman became.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teased, slowly lifting the material higher and higher until after what seemed like forever, it was gone from her body and carelessly tossed aside, messing her hair while being taken over her head.

“Y/N…” he gasped

“Hush. Hush baby…” she reached behind her to remove her bra, sliding straps of it down her arms first, exposing her shoulders, before undoing the clasp and shaking it off completely. Biting her bottom lip, messing her hair up with one hand, while using the other to play with her breasts, she was giving him an erotic show he would never expect from her. What happened to this shy girl, insecure in bed? Now she was grinding on him, making him use all his strength to not cum in his pants, while she was a sex goddess above him.

“Fuck!” despite all the promises at this moment there were zero chances for him to stay still. His arms shoot up, cupping those soft globes, thumbs finding ways to nipples, circling around them like a lion hunting the gazelle. Her skin was burning, instantly covered with goosebumps under his touch, immediately craving for more.

It would be so easy to just give in, let him continue, melt into his touch, surrender. And it was his sole intention. To make her putty. Remind her of what he could do for her. How explosive it was when he was guiding.

“I said no touching…” she managed to squeeze out.

“I don’t care. I want to touch you and I will –“

She cuts him off again, stopping her erotic act and crawling to his lips, brushing her naked upper body against his like a wild feline, kissing him hungrily.

He was defenseless. Boneless. She got so deep under his skin that all that was left was the empty shell of a man, allowing his owner to use him in any way she found pleasing.

One more try at squeezing her butt and tearing off her panties ended with a bite mark on his neck and complete surrender.

“Y/N!” he groaned when she kneeled above him, slowly sliding that little fabric of her most intimate part, hovering above him.

“Make a wish baby and I might grant it...” she whispered leaning to his ear, kissing that sensitive spot behind it.

She was driving him to ecstasy faster than F1 bolide, making him barely able to corner.

“What do you want Jason….?”

“Fuck!” he squirmed under her, the view of her naked folds just inches above his jeans causing his head to spin.

“can you maybe make one sentence for me?” she mocked lowering herself on his bulge and rocking on it. Once. Just fucking once.

At his point all he could imagine was her wet, soft, warm inside squeezing his cock, milking him dry, taking him hard and rough. His face was flushed, lips parted.

“Like that?” Y/N teased again, repeating her actions, making it almost painful, judging by low grunts and groans. “don’t worry, baby… I;m not a monster you know…”

Finally she started to remove the belt from his pants.

Undoing the button.

Opening the fly.

Sliding the material down his legs (with a little bit of his help in the form of kicking those fucking obstacles)His boxers did nothing to cover the rock hard length.

And she was the one who did this to him.

“All for me?” she whispered with a glint in her eyes, caressing the piece of skin just above his boxers line.

“Only for you…”

“Very good…”

Once his underwear was down, no holds were barred.

However –

He did not expect what she was going to do next.

Instead of going for a cowgirl she bent her head down, sending him a teasing smirk and planting little kisses on his abs.

“Y/N…” he groaned, fighting between stopping and not stopping her. “You don’t have to-“ every other word was harder to formulate, replaced by deeper and louder grunts in time with the descent of her lips. “I don’t want to force you and – Fuck!”

She was as far from being forced as possible.

Taking the tip into her warm mouth. Just the tip, but the sensations were already so intense his mind was spinning.

“Y/N!” they were definitely going to have to buy a new set of linen.

Her tongue swirled around his tip in an almost practiced way and despite everything he started wondering where the hell did she learnt that?! Not with him and from what he knew, not with any other guy.

She was a natural.

Or a witch, that casted a spell on him, reducing this huge muscled man to the whimpering little boy, craving more.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get better she took more of his length inside. Not all of it, but with the way her tongue and hand cooperated in pleasuring him, he didn’t even notice anything else.

“Y/N!”

She bobbed her head up and down a little faster.

“Y/N!”

This was getting too good.

His hand tangled in her hair guiding her movements, the other squeezing her shoulder almost painfully, the force he used about to leave the skin bruising in purple.

“Y/N!”

The way he was calling her name was causing her own body to shiver and writhe on the bed, bringing him even closer to ecstasy.

“Fuck!”

She scratched his thigh hoping to finally make him finish.

“NO!” he grabbed her head harshly, pulling her away from his cock and upwards, capturing her lips in a bruising, predatory kiss, dominating her again. For a few seconds they fought for control, but finally she relented, ending up with her back pressed to the bed and his entire body weight on her and wrist pinned above her head.

So full of him.

Once again being the receiving and not giving part.

And enjoying it thoroughly.

As for Jason, he was more than happy to be on the passive, pleasured side of their tryst, but he valued her too much to just cum in her mouth. Besides, that would be such a waste of a perfectly good load, even if she was not going to get pregnant due to pills.

“Jason!”

Ironic how the tables turned.

“Jay!” she gasped, locking the ankles on his body, holding him in an iron grip to the point when he was barely pulling in and out, creating the friction that made her pussy burn and redden.

They were both going to sport such beautiful marks the next morning.

“Fuck Y/N, let go cause I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Then let go” she challenged him with a moan.

“No. You first.” He intensified his movements, adding the thumb on her clit that he knew would drive her crazy.

“It’s always the same… Stop being a gentleman…”

“I’ll fuck the words out of you…”

He was not going to stop being a gentleman in bed.

Rough? Yes, the thrust and snaps of his movements being the best example.

Dirty talk? Oh, absolutely with the way it made her shiver.

But being a dick? Never.

She thought she was ready for oral, but he knew better. All the little telltale signs were more visible to him than to her.

So for now, they were going to stick to classic after all.

Her pussy clenching on him, her moans filling the room and finally – her juices coating him and her body cradles in his arms.

Both full of pleasure and both reaching their peak.

***

“Why didn’t you let me switch roles?” she asked some time later, after getting cleaned up and they focused on cuddling, tangled together under the blanket.

“Was it what you really wanted?” he responded with another question

“Was I bad?”

“Is that what you think?”

“Can I please get one clear answer from you?” she chuckled patting his chest playfully

“Only if you give me one in advance.” Jason grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing softly. “Did you really want it? Or was it some sort of liberated woman thing?”

“Now that’s mean…”

“Y/N, baby, please just tell me.” He lifted her chin so her eyes met his.

“Those hormones are making me crazy… I’m sorry I’ve put you through trauma. I really don’t know what’s happening to me….” Self-doubts were back, triumphantly announcing his return, taking the form of Y/N withdrawing back to her cave. “I did want it… At the beginning. But somewhere in the middle I sort of got second thoughts, though didn’t want to disappoint you and –“

“Shh. Stop it. You never disappointed me. You could never do that. But yeah, I saw the slight hesitation in you.”

“Your perceptiveness is truly admirable” she mocked, rolling her eyes.

“It saved your self-appointed honor tonight, didn’t it?” Jason smirked

“You really do want me to admit you are a hero In this scenario, don’t you?”

“Damn right I do.”

“thank you” she sighed “and I mean it. I don’t think I was fully ready.”

“See that’s why you have me to save you from yourself lately.” He pulled her closer, signaling that this sentence was not meant to be teasing or mean, but loving and caring.

“guess that’s the role a partner takes on sometimes, right?” Y/N nuzzled into him, understanding and appreciating his behavior.

“I guess so.” The deal was sealed with a tiny kiss on the top of her head ‘but I have to ask – where did you learn how to-?”

“Not answering that question.”

“Y/N!”

“You drop the subject or you’ll never get to experience my fast learning skills on you ever again.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Damn right it is!”

“Just swear to me you would never –“ he looked at her with a little bit of uncertainty in both eyes and voice.

“never. I’m here. And moreover, I am here to stay.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re the only living organism I want to experiment on.” She chuckled, using the standard technique of covering the sudden wave of sweetening with a bit of sarcasm.

“Then consider me your personal lab rat. Volunteering as a tribute, to quote the classic meme.”

She laughed at his words.

It was good to have someone like him in her life.

And he was thinking exactly the same about her.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n

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lowgothree · 3 months

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007. ༺ASUNDER༻∘

a/n: okay no one yell at me for this chapter...

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is kinda going through it, lmao. paige is still stupid. kinda angsty.

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

what’s more uncomfortable than waking up to a cold bed? especially when it was warm before you fell asleep?

…no, seriously. what?

you pull yourself out of bed, groaning and feeling stupid. you fell asleep on her and she left. slipping on your house shoes, you shuffle out of your room. you walk past paige’s room, doors open and it’s empty.

holy shit, were you snoring or something?

you grab your phone, noticing the time. it’s early. paige doesn’t wake up early on weekends if she doesn’t have to. she especially doesn’t leave the house early on a weekend if she doesn’t have to.

you walk into the living, looking for any signs of paige in the quiet of your shared apartment. there are none.

maybe you kick in your sleep.

you don’t have to let your mind wander for too long before she’s waltzing in through the door, guilt ridden. she doesn’t meet your eyes and you can feel it — that abhorrent feeling that crawls underneath your skin, you can barely stomach it. it’s over.

she meets you halfway and calls you by your name. your name. it makes your palms sweat. she hasn’t said your name since that night on the couch. but she says it now almost like it’s a mutual secret, it’s filled to the brim with shame. she says it again and the sentence that follows it is torturess.

“olivia texted me.”

immediately your whole mood switches. like going from hot to cold. you feel it all over and it’s all consuming. those three words are playing over and over and over again in your head. olivia. texted. me.

“i need closure. i hate how we left things.”

she’s apologetic and it makes you sick. she speaks carefully, as though she’s softly shutting the door on an active massacre. you can’t help but roll your eyes. maybe you should’ve expected this. okay, you definitely should’ve expected this…but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

somehow, you wish she wasn’t looking at you so guilty. it would make it easier to stomach if she didn’t feel anything for you at all. but she does. you know she does. you can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, you can feel it on her palms when they touch you, you can hear it in her voice when she calls you baby. she just won’t admit it. and that hurts way worse. you were enough for her to care for but not enough for it to matter.

so what was the point in arguing or faking content? you’d like to think she knew you well enough to catch you in your lie anyway. so you don’t. you acquiesce.

“good for you.” is all you say before turning on your heels and walking back to your bedroom.

you can hear her, hot on your tail as she lets herself into your bedroom. she steps into your space like she owned it all and that only frustrated you more.

“good for me?” she scoffs, it’s disbelieving and angry. she’s angry at you? you can only marvel at the audacity and it fuels your own distaste even more –– what once was smoke of annoyance is now a blazing fire of anger. “that’s it?”

“what do you want from me? do you want me to cry?”

she flinches at the harshness in your tone but stands her ground despite herself. “i don’t know i just expected you to be more — ” heartbroken. “understanding.”

“how much more understanding could i be? it’s not like we were together or anything, you don’t need my permission to run back to her.” the words are uncomfortable on your tongue and it almost chokes you to speak them.

“i’m not running.”

you just stare at her, trying hard to force yourself not to care about the fact that this is really over. you knew the day would come but you weren’t ready. you aren’t ready.

“just get out of my room, paige.”

and she does with a silent nod of acknowledgment. it kills you again and your eulogy is seconds long, it is the sound of your bedroom door closing.

it’s hard to ignore someone you live with. desperately humbling. you learn their schedule just so you know when you’re free to make yourself a sandwich. the living has become somewhat of an abandoned space as you and paige seem to avoid each other like some sort of disease.

sean, always caring, saw how quickly you were shutting down. you claimed you were only trying to process your emotions but he knew you better than that.

“yeah, no…you’re not doing this.” sean pulled you out of bed before you could start rotting there. “come on, we’re going out. we can get food, see a movie…whatever but i’m not letting you sit here depressed.”

and he didn’t, you’ve been spending practically everyday with sean for the past two weeks.

“you’re just going through the stages of grief right now.” he mumbles at you when you’re crying because you miss her. because you fell for her, hard and fast. because she left you before you had a way to land safely.

“she didn’t die.” you sniffle and it makes sean laugh.

“you’re annoying, you know what i mean.”

and that made you smile, albeit small, but there. you wiped your tears and looked at sean, speaking in an almost defeated tone. “i think i really love her…” is all you say and it’s all you need to say. the two of you sitting in silence for a while before sean starts to take your mind of things.

like going to a concert, which was sean’s suggestion. “yeah my roommate and his boyfriend were gonna go but they’re both sick as shit so he just gave me the tickets…”

“no way…”

“yes way…” you can’t contain your excitement as you hug your friend and he shares your smile.

later that night you and sean go to the concert. by the time it’s over, your voice is sore from singing all night.

“i know this is super shitty but i’m so happy my roommate is sick.” sean sighs happily as both walk out of the building and head to the parking lot.

“seriously.” you smile. “we have to go to another concert soon.”

“don’t worry, i’ll cough on all my roommates things. he’s got a weak immune system.”

“gross, sean.” you laugh anyway before you feel someone bump into you, the collision strong and sudden so much so that it almost knocks you off your feet.

“shit –– sorry.”

you freeze, the voice is familiar. you turn around to confirm your suspicion and sure enough. “ellie?”

“oh hey…” she smiles shyly at you. “it’s been a minute.”

“yeah…” you chuckle lightly, noticing the way she eyes you up and down. “how have you been?”

“no, yeah…i’ve been good.” her voice is low and raspy, just like it used to be. “i, um, i got that car i wanted so…”

“wow…new car and a concert? where’d you get the money for that?” you tease, remembering how terrible of a saver ellie was.

“dude, i actually saved for it.” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“are you sure you’re ellie?”

“seriously, i mean…it was hard but i did it and it paid off.”

you smile. “well, i’m proud.”

“thank you, thank you.” she puts a had to her chest, the sounds of cars driving and people talking and laughing fill the night air as she stands in silence for a while. just staring at you. she looks in your eyes then at your lips then she meets your eyes again. no fucking way she just did the triangle method.

you give sean a look and his eyes widen. “hey, it’s cold as shit. i’m gonna go to the car, just let me know when yall are done and i’ll swing back for you.”

you go to nod but ellie speaks before you can. “no, worries, dude. i’ll get her home safe.”

sean looks at ellie and then back at you. you open up your mouth to speak, to say that it’s fine and ellie doesn’t have to take you home but sean stops you. “yeah, that’s a good idea. just text me?” he winks at you.

your jaw drops slightly as sean walks away. ellie smiles at you and you smile back shyly. “you know…i’ve been thinking about us.”

us? as in you and her? your mouth opens and shuts before you clear your throat and reply. “have you?”

“yeah…” she makes her voice slightly deeper, she’s flirting. “let me take you home…”

you pause, home? where paige is? no thank you…

“i, uh…i’m kinda arguing with my roommate right now.” you sigh, a half truth. “i’ve been staying with sean.”

“no shit, that sucks…” she bites her lip, shifting awkwardly on her feet before she clears her throat. “you can stay with me tonight.”

it’s an invitation. oh, okay. your thoughts of paige not fully subsiding but they’re muted. you know sean hasn’t left yet, he’ll be waiting to see if you text him to swing back for you. you could deny her. you should deny her. but you hesitate. maybe it’s because you missed the attention or maybe you were just tired of feeling so stuck on someone who didn’t care enough for you. maybe part of you wanted to get over paige and felt like this was the only way.

so you don’t deny the offer. you accept with a warm smile. “yeah, i’d like that…”

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader

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maxzinn · 2 months

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What bothers me after all this drama is that those users that made the posts calling out the type of fics they were bothered with, didnt actually include like a list of those fics (probably to avoid an entire purge and hatred), and everyone in the comments of those posts just suddenly at a flip of a switch, all could only think about one. single. story...and that was the 2 part fic from the now deactivated account.

So for a fic which diverges from canon by having Aventurine NOT go through the entire rollercoaster of drama and be given a chance at a normal life, everyone and their mother jumped to bully the writer. Please, gimme a break, he could've still become the same charismatic gambler we all know and love, just he would've had an oh idk- a little support system given by the person that got him out of a much crappy life? Seriously, how many fics AREN'T out there which diverge at one point from canon?! Or, even better, ignore the canon completely and they are their own thing! HOW MANY- A LOT OF THEM ARE!

It's like they were bothered that there can be a "what if Aventurine was saved before he went through the rest of that hell?", as if his canon story is the only thing that matters and shouldn't be changed at all - THE MAN IS IN SHAMBLES. HE WANTED TO UNSUBSCRIBE FROM LIFE. And I cant be the only one who doesnt believe that him, as he grow up, didn't wish for someone to come to his aid, to take him out of there, but the more time passed, the more hope he lost and he just "well, guess I'll do this on my own". He. Has. No. One. To. Talk. To. Without. Him. Hidding. Behind. The. Persona. He. Created. No one.

Anon you have said exactly everything that I wanted to hear ‼️

(They all started this mess so I’m not gonna stop till I get my point straight across their faces)

These people CANNOT tell me that Aventurine didn’t want to be saved. They CANNOT tell me he didn’t hope for a helping hand throughout this whole hell.

The IPC had failed him and his race from the very beginning when they failed to protect Sigonia IV and the Avgins from the Katicans, and yet I still see people saying that creating a fic where he was saved is disregarding his effort in surviving like pls- my girl… he wanted to DIE to be with his family again and he’s literally in the clutches of the very same company that FAILED him and his kind. His life is literally in their hands and NO ONE would ever want to be at the mercy of the very same people who failed you.

He’s tired. He thinks so lowly of himself. He thinks he has no worth. He has no self-esteem.

All of that could’ve been avoided if someone had helped him, way before his neck was branded by the slave mark, or even during the time he was enslaved.

Like you said, there are already tons of fics that diverts from the canon story of the character into something that is almost disregarding it, so why is that an issue now?

We all love him the way he is, but don’t you think it’s also insensitive to say that when he himself hated the process or events that transpired to become what he is now?

I give him credit for his hardwork and efforts for staying alive and getting past the hell, but that cost him EVERYTHING. He survived, but he thinks so lowly of himself. He still think he’s only worth 60 tanbas. He didn’t refute Ratio and Sparkle’s insult. He throws his own body on every gamble because he thinks that’s his only worth… and now a simple harmless fic that aimed to provide him a normal life free from that tragedy was frowned upon by everyone just because the reader “bought him as a slave”.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine #hsr aventurine #shame on those people who bullied that author #this is just unreasonable #y’all talk about morals then bullies the heck out of people

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

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Hi I love you I hope you’re okay

Will you please write how reader is struggling with an ED and manorian or rowaelin figure it out and help her?

Thank you and mwah

keeping the demons away

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: Rowan and Aelin figure out how to help you.

Warnings: eating disorder, rowan having no tact, toxic parent, not proofread

A/N: thank you for the request! I hope you’re doing okay <3

It wasn’t exactly that she didn't want to eat. In fact, she wished that she could - that she could hit that level of normalcy and ease everyone else seemed. But, everytime she went to pick up her fork, her mothers voice would echo in her mind; you can’t have that, that’s not good for you, if you eat that you’ll die young, and the image of her snatching the fork and plate away from her- dumping half of it in the trash, played in her mind.

She would pick up a fork, forcing the food to her mouth and hiding her grimace. A few bites later and you’d be done. It came and went in waves, sometimes you’d be able to eat regularly for a few months before it would “come back” as she called it. Each time she thought you’d finally beat it - that you’d finally conquered the demon resting on her shoulder - it showed her that it was more resilient than you’d hoped.

But - she was so good at hiding it after all of these years. Good enough nobody had noticed. Or she thought.

“You haven’t been finishing your food. Recently.” Rowan commented one night.

“Not hungry.” she answered automatically - the excuse she gave when anyone commented on it, and normally worked. But, Rowan woke up that day ready for a fight.

“You haven’t been hungry for a month?” Aelin shot him a glare, but he ignored her.

“I eat.” She countered through gritted teeth.

“Less than half of your food.”

“Rowan.” Aelin warned.

“I’m fine.” She aggressively stabbed a potato, raising it to her mouth with an indignant look on her face.

“Now eat the rest of it.”

Her knuckles went white around the fork, pink starting to spread across her cheeks as she felt the tips of her ears burn. Then, Rowan and Aelin were caught in a staring contest, communicating in that strange way of theirs. She took the chance to shove her chair back, rising to flee the room like a coward. Without looking at her, Rowan’s hand closed around her bicep, tugging her back down to her seat.

“Did you think we’re stupid enough not to notice?” He finally turned to her. Aelin winced.

“I’ve never said you’re stupid.” She commented dryly, trying to force some amusement into her voice. This conversation is the last one she wants to be having today. Or any day. In fact, it’s the thing of her nightmares.

“Every couple of months, you switch back and forth. You’ll eat normally, and then barely touch your food.”

“That’s none of your business.” She finally snapped at him, shaking off his grip.

“If something’s wrong with you, I’d say it is.”

“Nothing is wrong with me,” her voice rose.

“He didn’t mean it that way,” Aelin said quickly.

“Then what way did he mean it?” She ignored Rowan completely, speaking to Aelin instead.

“We want to help,” she said gently, “we care about you.”

“I’ve been trying to fix this for years. What makes you think you could?” She could tell that, but she was past the point of anger, past the point of reason and talking quietly or nicely. This thing that happens to her pisses her off beyond reason, and coupled with Rowan’s complete lack of tack or subtlety, it sends her over the edge.

“So you admit there is something wrong.”

“Rowan. Shut. Up.” Aelin said through gritted teeth. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he did. “Just, tell us why. Please.”

She’d never been able to deny her anything, especially if she said ‘please,’ so the whole story came tumbling out. The things her mother used to say and do, how it’s like a small demon on her shoulder, how the memories replay her mind and as much as she try she can’t get them out of her head.”

“Your mother’s an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed, and pointed to some of the food on her plate. “That won’t make you die young. It’s fine to eat any of this, your body needs it.”

“I know that. It’s not that simple.” Aelin pursed her lips, looking at Rowan. To him, it probably seemed that simple. Hungry? Eat. Like everything could be fixed with a few words. “It’s been like this for years, it won’t change overnight.”

“Then we’ll help you.” Aelin decided. She looked at her, wanting to shrug off her help and insist she could do it on her own, but once Aelin set her mind to something there was no stopping her so she resigned herself to two fussy fae watching over she for gods-know how long.

“I’m hungry.” Aelin announced, midway between lunch and dinner, and reached out a hand to you. “Come eat with me.” A small smile curved on her face. She carefully marked her place in her novel before taking her hand, letting her drag her to one of the smaller hearth rooms. Cozy, warm, and non-imposing. Not a dining or sitting room, not a designated place for eating, just somewhere … comfortable, was the best way she could describe it. She disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a tray loaded with all of the snacks either she or Rowan had noticed her eating.

The thoughtfulness of it brought a smile to her face.

Then, she brought out the competitive side of her - saying she wouldn’t be able to catch a grape or a piece of chinese, or other things in her mouth. Before she knew it, she was full - and laughing, picking up the poor pieces of grapes that didn’t quite make it to her mouth.

“We could leave them for the cats.” Aelin murmured, pointing to one of them.

“Do cats even like cheese?”

“Bait for the mice.” She shrugged.

“There’s no mice in the castle.” She protested. Not that you’d seen, and she hoped there weren’t any. There were good and bad weeks, but the bad ones became less frequent - and they seemed to notice it before you, sometimes. Like they’d picked up on the signs of it. She knew when they had, because they’d get extra fussy - Rowan staring at her until she finished her plate, or Aelin dragging her into Orynth to try some new food from one of the vendors. But, she didn’t complain. Their tactics kept that little demon at bay, and her mothers voice out of her head.

#rowaelin x y/n #rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin #poly!rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass imagine #rowan whitethorn x y/n #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x y/n #aelin galathynius x reader

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intheticklecloset · 3 months

Text

Strawberry Isagi (Blue Lock)

Summary: Bachira tickles Isagi in his own playful, Bachira way. That's pretty much it. 😊

A/N: So cards on the table - last year I watched and fell head over heels in love with Blue Lock alongside my friend @giggly-squiggily! I've been writing fics for it on my own and finally decided to go public with it this year! And OMG do I ship Bachisagi SO MUCH! 😍😍😍 This particular fic is more platonic than romantic, but it could be read either way. Enjoy! 💖

Word Count: 928

~~~

There was no way out of Blue Lock unless you quit or were disqualified. Everyone knew that; it had been cemented into their minds on day one.

Right now, however, Isagi was really, really wishing he had somewhere to hide.

“Bachira!” he cried, wriggling uselessly around on his sleeping mat, kicking the covers every which way and generally making an embarrassment of himself. “Dohon’t!”

“Uh-oh. Are we a little ticklish, Isagi?” the smaller boy giggled, gently wiggling his fingers into Isagi’s sides, forcing muffled chuckles past his lips.

“Wahahait! Bahachira!”

Isagi tried to roll over, but Bachira was straddling his lower back, keeping him pinned in place face down on his bedroll so that all he could do was flail and kick and sputter out embarrassed giggles as his teammate explored this new discovery. And if he knew Bachira, he wouldn’t be satisfied with simply learning he was ticklish; no, he wouldn’t stop until he’d covered every last inch of him, finding his worst spots for future reference, and that was why Isagi was so desperate to get away. It was bad enough he was so stupidly ticklish, but to have someone like Bachira constantly poking and jabbing at him when it was least convenient? The thought only made him kick even more.

“My, you’re a squirmy one, aren’t you?” Bachira switched tactics to begin pinching his ribs from the bottom up, taking the time to make sure each round of pressure did the most tickly damage it could.

Isagi squealed, frantically reaching for his pillow so he could muffle himself. “Bahahahachira! Cuhuhuhut it out alreheheheady!”

Somewhere nearby, he heard a few of his other teammates chuckle at the scene. Isagi flushed bright red. That was the other reason he wanted to be able to hide – having everyone on the team know about this weakness of his was humiliating. He was here to become the best striker in the world; how could he uphold that image when he was helpless like this?

It wasn’t like he’d been the only one tickled on Team Z; Bachira had made his rounds with pretty much everyone at this point. But still!

Speaking of, the smaller player had now moved up to his armpits, trying to wiggle his way in. “Aww, don’t fight me, Isagi. I just want to hear you laugh!”

“I ahahaham lahahaughing!” Isagi whined, trying to buck his hips upward and deter his friend.

Bachira was immovable, however, and quickly changed tactics again. He went back to digging into Isagi’s side, which was a guaranteed way to get the brunette to try and physically stop him, which left his armpits open, which meant…

“Gotcha!” Bachira declared gleefully, diving his fingers into the opened up spaces, grinning at the shriek that flew past Isagi’s lips. “Ooh, good spot? Does it tickle here, Isagi? Hmm? Well – I’m waiting for an answer~”

Isagi was going to – well, he couldn’t quite bring himself to think he’d kill Bachira, but he was certainly going to get him back for this.

“Yehehehehes, it tihihihihickles there! Wohohohohould you stahahahahap it?! Please!”

“Not yet~ I wanna see where else I can make you laugh.” At that moment Bachira seemed to hit a particularly sensitive spot, as Isagi shrieked into his pillow once more and brought his legs up to try and kick at him, one foot landing successfully on his teammate’s back for a brief moment.

But then Bachira hummed with renewed interest, and Isagi knew he was done for. “Nohoho! Wait, nohohohoho!”

“Oh? Do your feet want to play, too? They must be tired from all that running today,” Bachira teased, moving so fast the poor brunette had no chance of getting away or stopping him. In the next moment his ankles had been straddled and his bare feet were being tickled mercilessly, sending him into bouts of laughter that were much louder than anything he’d let fly before. Bachira sounded far too pleased with himself. “Ooh, I think this is a really good spot!”

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHA BAHAHAHAHACHIRA, DOHOHOHOHON’T!!” Isagi screamed, caught between wanting to muffle his cries and wanting to beg for mercy, trying to twist onto his side but not having the strength for it. He settled on slapping his hand on the ground in the universal tap-out gesture. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!! ANYWHEHEHEHEHERE BUT THEHEHEHERE!!”

“Anywhere?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“All right, then…” Bachira left his feet alone, allowing Isagi a momentary sigh of relief before he was flipped onto his back and straddled again, this time with wiggling fingers descending on his open belly, slipping under his sweatshirt to get at the sensitive bare skin.

Isagi squeaked and burst into giggles that flowed freely now that he had no way to hide his face or muffle his sounds. His hands flew down to grasp Bachira’s wrists, but the beaming smile and playful gleam in his friend’s eyes stopped him from actually trying to push him away. Why was that?

“Look how red you are. You’re like a strawberry! How cute~” Bachira chuckled, leaning down so they were nose-to-nose. “I could just eat you up, Isagi~”

The brunette’s eyes widened at the statement, feeling himself blush even harder now. Was it getting hot in here?!

“Get a room,” Chigiri mocked playfully from somewhere nearby, and that sealed Isagi’s fate in his own mind. He resigned himself to giggling and squirming until Bachira was good and done, and if it was obvious how he felt about him now, so be it. He was going to be the best athlete in the world! He could take a little more tickling!

Probably…

#fanfiction #tickle fic #blue lock #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #bachisagi #fluff #playful #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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crackedpumpkin · 1 year

Note

I SMELL COLE FICS

Do you think i could get a drabble? I dont care what or how you write, I will take anything.

Hello hello hi!! I'll be honest, freedom with what to write can be incredibly nerve wrecking but i hope you enjoy this one! I struggled so much to decide on what exactly to write lmao,,,,

|| ᴅʀᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ʙᴏʏ || ᴄᴏʟᴇ ʙʀᴏᴏᴋᴇꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

Your steps slow to a stop, looking up at the sign of the store you’re about to enter. You check your phone, comparing the name that your friend sent you.

Rockin’ Tunes

You shrug, accepting the name at face value before entering the store. The bell attached to the door jingles, attracting the attention of the only person inside.

You walk up to the store assistant who has his back turned to you, hesitant to disturb him when he’s restocking shelves.

“Excuse me…” You voice out shyly, only for your breath to hitch as soon as he turns around. Choppy ebony hair casts a faint shadow over his obsidian eyes, his sleeveless top showing off toned biceps. A thin chain decorates his neck, firm hands gripping a vinyl cover.

Yum.

You quickly snap out of your daze, almost drooling over the incredibly attractive boy in front of you. You blink a couple times, hand reaching up to subtly rub away any drool. The back of your hand brushes against bare skin. Good. There wasn’t any drool.

“Can I help you?” His brow is raised, waiting patiently for you to speak.

“Yeah, I came here to sign up for drum lessons. My friend Nya recommended this place, so I thought I’d check it out.” You try to lighten the atmosphere with a bright smile. A flicker of recognition crosses his face at the name you mention, his smile mirroring yours.

“You’re Nya’s friend? Nice to meet you. I’m Cole. If you’re interested in drum lessons, our only teacher is out of the country now, but I’d be happy to help.” He holds out his fist, and you grin, bumping it lightly with yours.

“I’m Y/n. That sounds good. Where do we start?”

Cole steps out from behind the counter, bicep brushing against your shoulder as he walks past you and towards the array of instruments in the back of the store. You gulp, following him.

Nya hadn’t told you that her friend was this attractive. You almost feel betrayed, looking down at your outfit and wishing you had dressed a little more nicely. He stops at a few drum sets that are a distance apart, and you eye the different types.

“So, do you know anything about drums?”

You pause, racking your brain for a good answer. “I know the basic boots-and-cats beatboxing.” You reply dumbly.

Oh my god.

Your cheeks burn, and you’re ready to hide in a corner from how his eyes shine in amusement, trying to force down a laugh.

“Okay, so you’re a basic beginner then.”

He sits at a drum set that looks nothing like the ones you see on TV. Everything is coloured black, cymbals made out of rubber. He grabs a pair of drumsticks that rest atop one of the drums in the set, giving it a twirl.

Suddenly, your face feels rather hot.

“So this is the first type of drum set beginners usually get. It’s an electronic drum kit, and it’s connected to a speaker and device that lets you change the sound to whatever you’d like. This is a snare, this is a kick drum, and this is a high hat. These are what you’ll be starting out with for a basic beat, or the ‘boots-and-cats’ beat you mentioned earlier.”

As soon as he pauses, he starts to play a beat with the three he had pointed at moments earlier, switching it up occasionally. You try to pay attention to the beat and how he manages to keep time; you really do.

But the way his arms flex as he plays the drums is incredibly distracting.

You tear your gaze away, nodding when his eyes meet yours to check if you’re following along.

“We can start with this. Sit down here.” He instructs, getting up and moving out of the way for you. You take a seat, taking the drumsticks that he passes you. You hesitate, unsure of where to begin as you attempt to copy his position from earlier.

“First, place your right foot on the pedal, and push down.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when you follow as he says, the kick drum producing a loud thump. You look up at him, eager for the next step.

Cole has to hide the amusement in his smile from the way your eyes gleam in excitement, pointing out the left pedal. “Place your foot there, and keep it down.”

You do so, surprised when the high-hats make a slight rattle before they still.

“This makes the sound tighter so that there’s less of an echo.” He explains, crossing his arms and answering your unasked question.

“Your posture’s too tight. You gotta relax. We have this rule in drumming: no chicken arms.” He mimics how your bent arms are almost perpendicular to your body, and you move them to rest at your sides with a sheepish smile.

He nods approvingly.

“One of the most important things is that your wrist has to be flexible. You can’t be too rigid, or it’ll start to hurt very quickly.”

You nod at his words, flexing your wrist and rotating it to loosen it up.

“We’ll start simple: use the pedal for the kick drum to follow me on this beat.” He starts to clap, acting as a metronome for you to follow along. You do so, paying close attention to the 1, 2, 3, 4 beats he’s giving you.

“Now that we got that down, I want you to use your right hand to hit the high hat with a different timing. The beat goes like this: one-ie and a two-ie and a three-ie and a four-ie.” He instructs, demonstrating quickly.

You take a deep breath, nodding and trying to follow his instructions. You wince when you accidentally hit the high-hat off timing, trying hard to coordinate your body to the different beats you play.

“Sorry,” You apologize. Cole's brows raise, surprised by the sudden apology.

“You don’t have to be sorry; you’re already doing great. Besides, it’s just your first lesson.” He chuckles. You flush, encouraged to try once more. You lift up your hands, ready to start.

“Uh-uh.” He tuts, reaching down and placing his hands on your raised elbows. You glance up, your eyes widening, when you register how close he is to you. “No chicken arms.” He chuckles, smiling warmly as he leans back.

You clear your throat, managing a nod before playing again with the high hats and kick drum. To your delight, you follow along much more easily than the first time, though there are a few off-beats here and there.

“Not bad,” Cole remarks thoughtfully. You grin, resting the drumsticks on the snare, reaching into the bag you had placed on the floor earlier for your water bottle.

“Thanks,” You reply with a simple smile, sipping your water.

“So, how do you know Nya anyway?” Cole grabs a stool, sits down next to you and leans back against the wall with a curious stare directed at you.

You hum in thought. “Well, I met her brother first at a book fair. I was in the romance aisle when I accidentally spilled a cup of coffee on his shirt.” You wince at the memory, Cole chuckling.

“I apologized so much and offered to wash his hoodie for him. But for some reason, he thought I was hitting on him. I wasn’t.” You deadpan, lips pursed. “Nya helped me scrub out the stain in the restroom, and I guess we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Sounds just like her and Kai.” Cole rolls his eyes playfully. “What about you? Why’d you start working here anyway?” You ask.

“I like music,” He replies simply. He takes a moment to think. “Not the customers, though.” He adds.

“Oh?” Now you’re intrigued.

“Earlier, this customer refused to listen to me explain the different types of guitar strings and just did his own thing even though he didn’t know what he was looking for.”

You snort in laughter, wincing at his words. “That sounds fun.” You say sarcastically.

“They ended up spending over a hundred dollars more than they needed. But hey, it’s their money, not mine.”

“On behalf of all customers, I apologize.” You joke, but his response makes your smile falter, heat blossoming on your cheeks instead as his eyes land on you.

“You’re okay, though.” He muses with a slight grin. He takes you in, almost as if he’s studying you. You feel a flush creep up your neck, fidgeting with the drumsticks you hold as you try to remain strong, refusing to look away from his calm gaze.

The bell jingles, and the both of you snap out of the daze you’re in. You sneakily fan your hot cheeks, and Cole clears his throat, standing up to greet the customer that walks in.

“Cole!” You hear a squeal, looking back up to see a girl dressed in a sparkly mini dress practically launch herself at him. He catches her by her shoulders, eyes wide in shock as the smile drops from his lips. He pushes her away gently, keeping the overexcited girl at arm's length.

“Kate.” He greets emotionlessly, all traces of humour and warmth from earlier now gone. His lips curve downwards into a subtle frown, but the girl doesn’t notice.

“You remembered my name!” She gasps, “See? We’re practically a couple already!” She doesn’t seem to notice your presence, eyes trained solely on Cole.

Her hands brush against his bare biceps, and he flinches away with a shudder. “Kate, I’m not going on a date with you. I’ve made that clear multiple times.”

“But you don’t have a girlfriend, so going on just one tiny date can't hurt.” She whines with a pout.

You wince at the dark expression on Cole’s face, racking your brain to come up with a way to help him with this persistent customer.

Oh. There was that one way you had seen your friend do once.

You stand up, place the drumsticks on the snare, and walk over to a frustrated Cole and whiny Kate.

“Babe,” You sidle up to his side, taking his hand in yours and sending her a nonchalant glance before ignoring Kate entirely, “What’s taking so long? You promised to teach me the drums.” You purse your lips, trying your best to appear like a clingy girlfriend.

He turns to you, surprised before he registers what you’re trying to do. The deep chuckle that comes next sends tingles down your spine, the warmth of his bare arm making you blush as he drapes it across your shoulder and pulls you close.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll get back to you as soon as I finish helping this customer find the exit.” He replies, pointedly glancing at Kate who’s dumbfounded by your sudden appearance. You smile up at him and nod, walking back to the drum set and waiting patiently for him. He guides the speechless girl to the door, practically pushing her out.

He returns to the seat beside you with a relieved sigh. “Thanks back there. I’ve been trying to get rid of her for weeks, but she just wouldn’t take the hint, even after an outright rejection.”

“Anytime,” You grin, holding up the drumsticks. “Now, where were we?”

#ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago cole x reader #cole x reader #ninjago cole x you #ninjago cole x y/n #x reader #music store au #cole brookestone #cole brookestone x reader #cole brookestone x you #cole brookestone x y/n #asks #requests #x reader requests

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d3adlyromb3ar · 2 months

Text

✰ sinking lily pads

— synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— word count. 4.1k

— contents. mentions of child abuse, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, dissociation, ptsd, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting

series masterlist | previous chapter

✰ chapter two. lives left

He would’ve preferred to leave Moon’s room in a better mood, but the reveal that she had died on her previous mission had his blood boiling.

All of a sudden he was seeing red, wishing to resurrect the creature that had killed her— just to kill them again. This time slowly, giving him time to make this evil being suffer.

I have this technique for a reason.

Her words echoed in his head, and logically he knew she was right. She wielded the 9 lives because she was strong enough. She was meant to. Although, it never brought him comfort. He rather her never having to use the 9 lives technique at all.

Despite all that had happened in the past with Moon and himself— he never stopped caring for her. He wished it could be like that, a switch that he could turn off. All too quickly, he knew that weren’t to be true. He’d always care about her, no matter how hard she tried pushing him away.

Besides, he always knew there was something deeper to her. Something that had her thinking as such. He didn’t need the Six Eyes to recognize the pain she hid underneath her facade.

He didn’t even know where he was walking, letting his feet guide him aimlessly through the school. His mind was empty of a destination, and instead forced him to remember that day. The one he remembered all too well.

(Flashback to a year)

The sun shining through the treetops mixed with the cool breeze, it couldn’t have felt more perfect outside. The distinct smell of the flowers blooming, the sweet aroma filling the air. It was addicting, almost easy to let yourself get lost in the moment.

Gojo had his glasses pushed up into his hair, the object being used as a makeshift headband. He leaned back on his arms, letting his face point towards the golden rays. It felt heavenly on his skin.

“God,” Moon’s voice whispered next to him, “Feels so perfect outside.”

The white haired sorcerer tilted his head in her direction, giving her a smirk when they met eyes.

“Of course it's perfect. I’m here after all.” He said.

She rolled her eyes, fighting down her smile as she finished off her sandwich. Using the back of her hand to wipe off the crumbs from the corner of her lips.

“You know, not everything is about you.” She told him, taking a sip from her juice.

Gojo held a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically with mock hurt.

“So mean!” He whined, “And here I thought we were having a nice time.”

She giggled at his antics, setting down her drink and leaning back on her arms– matching Gojos posture. He smiled to himself, the sound of her gentle giggles like music to his ears. Somehow he made it a mission to himself to always draw that sound from her. Whether it was because he just wanted to make her laugh, or maybe he just adored the sound so much. The way her eyes would crinkle– her smile contagious as he always found himself mirroring her.

“We are having a nice time, just making sure I keep you in check.” She told him, glancing over at his smug expression.

He tilted his head curiously.

“Keeping me in check huh?” He wondered with an amused tone.

She nodded her head as if what she was implying was so obvious.

“Yup. Gotta keep you humble.” She told him.

It was his turn to laugh, the hearty sound echoing in the distance as he fell all the way back– hands clutching his stomach. Moon couldn’t help herself from laughing at the sight.

“Nines you kill me! You know that?” He managed to get out.

“Ah see, already showing me how humble you really are. Admitting that I can kill you– because you’re so right.” She stated proudly.

This had his laughs dying down, the dominance shifting from his aura to somewhere in between the two of them. Although it wasn’t fear he felt, not even a threatening feeling– he felt challenged if anything. If he was anything, it was arrogant for knowing he truly was the strongest.

“Is that so?” He asked, sitting up and scooting closer to you.

She watched him scoot closer, not thinking twice about the action.

“Mhmm.” She hummed, running a hand through her hair.

“You think you can kill me?” He asked her, his eyes focused on hers.

She leaned closer this time, getting inches from his face as she held his gaze confidently– no faltering. Gojo held his breath, letting his eyes dart from one to the other– her hazel ones capturing him in a trance. Her eyes always were unique to him– the inside always looking like a blooming flower or some beautiful explosion. He could sit and stare all day– depicting where the green stopped and where the yellow started, morphing into a gorgeous dark blue.

“You know I could.” She whispered.

Maybe he should have felt threatened. Maybe he should have felt the frustration that someone challenged him of his all powerful role. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He admired her power, because he knew full well that she was. He respected her strength, the abilities she possessed. She was magnificent, and he was truly captivated by her. He didn’t know if it was the power that first pulled him towards her– excited to meet someone that could keep up with him. All he knew is that he wanted to be around her– know her. He didn’t want to live a life without her involved in it.

He’d never felt such a pull towards anyone in his life– therefore why he wanted to stick around.

He felt himself getting lost in the moment, his eyes glancing down to her lips– watching her tongue wet the pair. The pink, plump flesh trapped him in his stare. The only thought swirling through his mind was how badly he wanted a taste.

Moon saw the way his gaze traveled down to her mouth, the sudden realization of what he was thinking hitting her. She always had that weary thought in the back of her mind, but she never believed it would be true. If only she could have the true strength to submit herself to her own desires– but she didn’t. She already let herself slip up by letting a mere friendship bloom between her and the white haired sorcerer. But now in this moment, physically seeing the emotion speak within his eyes as they traveled back up to hers– she knew she had to stop.

She’d never let anyone get close to her… again.

She leaned back and turned her head back in front of her, facing away from Gojo completely. The sudden movement pulled him out of his trance, leaving him to attempt to mask the hurt he felt from the rejection. Even if it wasn’t spoken– he knew. Although he ignored his own feelings when he noticed the far away look she suddenly sported in her eyes.

“Moon?” He tried.

She took a deep breath, willing herself enough strength to walk away. Learn to stick true to her word and stay away from people. She knew it was unfair to him, but she couldn’t feel that pain again– the same pain that never left. After all these years, the wound still bled– and she never had the power to stop it.

“I gotta… I’m gonna go–” She rushed out, gathering her things.

“Hey, hey, what's the rush?” He asked, sitting up straighter.

Uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the mood.

“I just… I just remembered I have to meet with Yag–”

He furrowed his brows at her rushed movements, the way her hands slightly shook when trying to zip up her bag. He couldn’t help the worry bubble within him.

“Did I do something?” He voiced out loud, wondering if he was the cause for her sudden distress.

Her chest twinged with pain, her guilt doubling at the thought that he was already trying to blame himself. Her lips twitched with the urge to tell him otherwise– to scream out to him what she really felt. But she couldn’t, and would never.

She faced him, trying to keep her face neutral.

“Not at all, just forgot I had something to do.” She explained casually, and hoped he bought her lie. “Gotta go, see ya.”

Without another glance towards his beaten down expression, she hurried off to the steps of the school– making her way towards her room. She needed to be alone right now– she needed to think.

Although she had thought she lied well to him, she didn’t realize that while she looked at him– he could see the pain written in her expression.

He was left sitting under the tree by himself, letting himself get lost in his thoughts. All at the same time, feeling hurt and concerned.

(Present)

His feet carried him towards the school stairs, and he gladly took a seat– letting himself come back to reality after the memory.

It wouldn’t have been such a painful memory if things hadn’t changed drastically after that. She had isolated herself almost completely from him, everyone even. She didn’t talk as much as she did– although she was never that talkative to begin with. She kept her distance– staying calculated about the time of interactions. Gojo was the first to bring it to his friends' attention. Shoko and Geto barely saw it as an issue at first.

She’s just going through something. Maybe she needs her space. They both told him.

For a while, he supposed he believed them. Perhaps that was easier than thinking it was something he did. If he scared her off or if, she truly didn’t feel the same way he did. The rejection was harder to accept, so he stuck with believing you just needed time.

Now almost over a year has passed, and you still keep yourself far from everyone– from him.

“With how hard you’re thinking, you’re gonna end up hurting yourself.” A smooth voice called out from behind him.

Gojo already knew it was his dear friend Geto, making his way down the stairs.

“I ain’t thinking that hard.” Gojo mumbled into his palm that he rested his head on.

“I can practically hear it.” Geto joked, earning a chuckle from the white haired sorcerer.

His laughed died down, going back to staring aimlessly at the stairs that descended in front of him. The long haired sorcerer gazed with watchful eyes at his friend, curious as to what was bothering him so.

“Yaga’s been hinting at a big mission soon. I’m curious if that’s what got you so preoccupied.” Geto wondered.

Gojo had heard the same whispers of the same mission, but it definitely wasn’t what he was stuck in his head about.

“Nah. It’s Moon.” Gojo admitted, knowing when it came to Geto— he wouldn’t judge.

He was his best friend for a reason. Always able to calm him down when he felt slightly out of control.

Geto hummed and ran a hand through his hair, fixing some strands that fell out of place from the light breeze.

“Did something happen?” He asked his friend.

Gojo sighed, and glanced towards Geto with a disappointed expression— not directed at him of course.

“Did she tell you what happened on her mission?” He wondered.

Geto shook his head with a chuckle.

“Do you think she would? Doesn’t seem like her style to come to me and vent.” He pointed out, although he wished she would.

Geto cared for her, and knowing something was bothering her– it bothered him. He felt useless sitting on the sidelines, waiting for the day she’d finally express herself. When would that be?

Gojo scoffed, knowing he had a point– but disappointed nevertheless.

Geto saw the worry etched into his friends features, and grew serious all of a sudden.

“What happened?” He asked, despite not wanting to know the answer.

“She lost a life.” Gojo whispered, his eyes dropping back down to the stairs.

Geto felt his stomach knot up slightly, concern for Moon growing more intense by the second. He knew a great amount about the 9 Lives technique– knowing how traumatic and difficult that was to possess, to experience. Knowing she had gone through it, all alone. It made him feel sick.

Gojo lifted his gaze back up to his long haired friend, the silence making him wonder where his thoughts were. By the look on his face– he almost knew what he was thinking.

“Oh Miss Dair…” Geto trailed off, frustrated that you didn’t come to him– or anyone for that matter. This was serious and you were trying to isolate yourself. “Does Yaga know?”

Geto glanced to his friend, watching the white haired sorcerer shake his head. A part of Geto wanted to tell Yaga, not to get you in trouble– but to bring awareness to your odd behavior.

“He should know about this.” Geto stated, irritation lacing his tone.

“She wouldn’t want that, you know. She’d be furious with us if we told him.” Gojo told him.

Geto scoffed, shaking his head this time.

“She already acts indifferent with us– would it really matter?” Geto questioned, genuinely offended, how Moon treats them.

Gojo again couldn’t argue, knowing Geto had a point.

“I hope she’s okay.” Geto suddenly softens, his worry overcoming his frustration. “Losing a life is like losing a piece of your soul, I can’t imagine what she had to go through.”

Gojo perked up at that information, swallowing with difficulty through his tight throat. A thought suddenly popped into his head, and despite him truly not wanting to know the answer— he found himself asking.

“What happens when she only has one life left,” He whispered into the air, glancing over to Geto’s unfocused expression. “Will she be… herself?”

He watched closely, narrowing his eyes when he saw the long haired sorcerers eyebrows twitch. The silence was killing him, although it had only been a mere few seconds of it.

“I don’t want to lie to you, my friend. Though I am not positive what will be the outcome, I doubt she will be the Moon we know now.” He admitted solemnly.

Gojo tensed from his words, running a hand through his white locks. It was all theories— he knew that. But it didn’t calm him from his anxious thoughts. How much longer did he have to live his life being concerned to death for his friend. It was exhausting— yet completely out of his control.

“Don’t let my words alarm you Satoru,” Geto placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort, “This is Miss Dair we’re talking about. She’s a strong one.”

The white haired sorcerer nodded, but couldn’t find the relief that his words meant to bring.

“We all have an ending, and she won’t be meeting hers any sooner than she’s meant to.” Geto assured him.

Gojo wanted to ask how he could possibly know that— but couldn’t bring himself to.

Geto gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze before standing up— brushing off his robes.

“You should get some rest. Our lives are about to get much busier.” Geto suggested.

Gojo knew he was right— again. The sorcerer life wasn’t one of relaxation. He knew all too soon there would be a mission to keep them occupied.

“Now— get some rest.” Geto called out as he walked away.

Leaving Gojo alone on the stairs, still stuck in his head. He needed to push all these worries away for now— there were bigger things at hand. He needed to focus.

Not too far from the school stairs, Moon stood in front of her bathroom mirror– staring intensely at her reflection. She couldn’t figure out what bothered her so much about what she saw– although there was indeed something. An evident change in her appearance–

No… I look the same… yeah. She argued with herself.

She gripped the edges of the sink, leaning closer to her reflection’s tip of her nose. It wasn’t until she focused harder on her eyes, when she finally recognized the unfamiliar haunted look in her gaze.

With a frustrated huff, she pushed off of the white porcelain– stumbling backwards from her reflection and into the door with a thump. Her chest started rising and falling faster– her breathing erratic as she felt herself losing control.

Her eyes squeezed shut as a violent image from her most recent fight came flashing. The destruction, the loud screech from the monster as it ruptured her ear drums. Last of all, the indescribable feeling of death. The anxiety when your senses start to dull. The last thing she faintly heard was the struggling pounding of her weak heart– attempting to keep her awake for a few more seconds. It was all too much.

The thought came and went like a fleeting shadow, but nonetheless it appeared.

Sometimes I wish I could’ve stayed dead.

Her hands gripped her hair, pulling and squeezing as she shook herself out of the images, the memories of what she had gone through. It would haunt her– it haunted her now as she struggled to keep sane.

Her chaotic state had her stumbling around the bathroom, her body leaning harshly against the shelf next to her shower– causing the furniture to tip over and smash against the tub. The sound rang and echoed throughout the porcelain walls, the noise causing Moon to flinch back– stumbling back into the bathroom door.

She was overwhelmed, feeling helpless as she couldn’t do anything but let herself succumb to the panic she was trying so desperately to fight off. She cried out as she held a shaking hand over her chest, the pain suddenly sticking out to her. Her lungs felt constricted, like someone was squeezing the air out.

The pounding intensified in her head, causing her to miss the knocking coming from her main door.

Geto stood patiently outside of her door. He just needed to see for his own eyes that she was okay before he let himself fall asleep. The talk from earlier– the reveal that she lost a life. He needed to check on his friend for himself.

After waiting another minute, he started to wonder if she had fallen asleep. Disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see her, he started to walk away– making it a goal first thing tomorrow to see her.

Before he could take his first step to leave, he heard the faintest cry coming from her room. He furrowed his brows in confusion and leaned his ear closer to the wood– listening again for something.

Perhaps he’d heard something that wasn’t actually the–

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard another cry, louder this time. Immediately he grew tense and knocked again– more urgent this time.

“Moon? It’s Geto, I heard something in there. Everything okay?” He called out, listening again when he didn’t hear her answer.

Although he could hear lots of noises, and what had sounded like whimpers– her whimpers. Her broken sounds panicked Geto– making him wonder if you were hurt.

Geto sent a hurried text to his friend, not even a second later– the white haired sorcerer was appearing before him.

“What’s going on?” Gojo asked, his voice stern and serious.

“I heard distressing sounds coming from inside, but she wouldn’t answer me when I called for her. I’ve been knocking for a bit, and she won’t answer.” Geto rushed out, worried deeply for his friend.

Gojo thought quickly and mumbled under his breath before placing his hand on Geto’s shoulder.

“She’s gonna hate me for this.”

Before Geto could ask, Gojo had teleported the two of them inside her room. The sounds of her whimpers louder and so clearly coming from the bathroom. The noise broke both the men, the two giving each other a look before moving towards the bathroom.

“Moon, are you okay in there?” Geto asked, seeing as Gojo grew suddenly silent.

The whimpers died down, the shuffling almost stopping immediately. The two men glanced at each other– trying to figure out what she was doing. Before they could talk amongst each other– the door suddenly opened.

Moon walked out, glancing at the two standing before her in her room.

“Yeah I uh… my stomach’s been off. Must’ve been something I ate.” She explained to them, keeping her gaze on the floor as she walked towards her couch and plopping down.

Her episode had tired her out, and she felt ready to pass out at any moment.

Geto was the first to study her, his eyes trailing up and down for injuries– but stayed stuck on her pale and clammy face. Her skin looked a little sickly.

“Sorry to hear that, and sorry to barge in– we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained this time.

She waved him off, giving him a weak tired smile.

“I appreciate it, but I’m fine.” She assured him.

Geto wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was happy to at least see her with his own eyes. No injuries were enough to keep him relaxed for now– but he was still worried about her. Always would.

The long haired sorcerer glanced over to Gojo, who was gazing intensely at Moon. His blue eyes exposed and studying her features, memorizing every freckle– every inch of her skin.

Moon lifted her gaze to Gojo, swallowing nervously when she became aware of how deeply he was looking at her. It was an overwhelming sensation of feeling seen– like someone could finally see her pain written all over her body. The pain that she refused to reveal.

Despite Gojo having so much to say, to ask– to know. He stayed silent and followed Geto as he said goodbye and left her room.

Moon sighed in relief, a part of her grateful that they hadn’t caught her in such a state. Although the other part of her longed for them to stay– for him to stay. She wanted to tell him everything, but instead she kept telling him nothing. The way it should be.

The two sorcerers walked in silence next to each other, both too lost in their thoughts to create small talk. It was almost as if they knew they were both thinking the same thing, or at least they had the same ideas– same theories about what exactly was going on with Moon.

Geto was the first to break the silence, after taking note of the concerned look on his friends face.

“Satoru…” He started, but was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be focused for the mission.” He rushed out, running a hand through his white strands.

Geto frowned and stopped walking, causing Gojo to turn and study his friends expression.

“Let’s not shut each other out, okay? We already have that issue at hand.” He started, his tone stern but his expression soft. “I just need you to be honest with me. I’m worried about her too– so I need you to talk to me if you feel there's something wrong.”

Gojo’s eyes softened and his shoulders slumped, knowing he was right. It was easier to ignore the issues– ignorance was bliss. Although, he knew all too well that it would only be worse at the end.

“I just want our friend back.” He whispered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Geto let his hand rest on his friends shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze– bringing Gojo’s attention back on him.

“Our Moon is very much there Satoru… we just have to keep being there for her.” He reassured him.

Geto wasn’t pigheaded, he knew very well that Gojo was blaming himself heavily for this whole situation. Despite it being completely out of his control– he knew Gojo well enough to know that wouldn’t matter.

“I feel like I’m not doing enough.” He expressed, his voice weak.

Geto gave his shoulder another warm squeeze before removing his hand from him completely.

“You are, my friend.” He promised him.

The dark haired sorcerer left in the direction of his room, leaving Gojo alone with his thoughts. But he knew there wasn’t much else he could say to comfort him. Geto knew he would just have to keep reminding him he was doing enough, until Gojo believed it himself. Meanwhile, maybe his own words would convince himself too.

Gojo did feel comforted by his friends words, but he knew that all too well that the pit in his stomach wouldn’t stray away.

Where’d you go Nines… Gojo thought lastly before heading to bed.

ending notes. hmm, now we are starting to see the two different perspectives of why they aren't close anymore. poor miss moon is kinda a mess 😭 feedback is appreciated as always 🤍

#jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen #gojo my beloved #gojo satoru #gojo x oc #toji fushiguro #angst #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #fic series #sinking lily pads fic #hurt/comfort #major angst #slow burn #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto suguru is such a sweetheart

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mariaofdoranelle · 2 months

Text

Look at Us Now - Easter Outtake

Fic masterlist

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY TO LAUN!!

SURPRISE!! I’m late to my own party, and I 100% apologize for that

But!

I can’t believe LAUN is a year old already 🥹🥹 they grow up so fast!! I don’t think an Easter celebration is canon compliant at all, but I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away when LAUN’s 1st anniversary came right on Easter 🥹🥹🥹 I’m so emotional 🥹

I’m also aware that not everyone here celebrates Easter, but honestly this was just an excuse to write fluff and chocolate gift-giving. I hope everyone finds a way to enjoy it!

And I feel like we all deserve a post-epilogue glimpse after an entire year of these two idiots heheheh

Warnings: cranky teenager Maisie, sibling fights (lots)

Words: 3k

Every time Aelin mocked Rowan for spoiling their kids too much, it completely lacked the awareness that she was the one he spoiled the most.

Or at least that was on Maisie’s mind as she strolled down the supermarket’s aisles with her little brother, because Mom wrote in the family group chat that she wanted pasta for dinner, so Dad asked Maisie to buy the ingredients after school.

“Finn,” she called her unrequited companion, “do you remember which olive oil Dad likes?”

“Uh…” The boy hesitated without taking his eyes off his Nintendo Switch. “I dunno, that green one?”

Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm with the back of her hand. “Are you being for real right now?”

Startled, the boy raised his head to see row after row of different green bottles of olive oil. They all looked exactly the same, but she knew better than to grab the first one they saw, knowing how fussy her dad could be sometimes.

“Gods! Just call him—that��s why you have a fucking phone,” Finn said while rubbing off the sting on his forearm.

Maisie rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell him you dropped a F-bomb.”

“And I’ll tell him you slapped me.”

“He’d be on your side,” she said while texting Rowan about the olive oil. “You’re so much shorter than me—he’d say it’s not a fair fight.”

“Take it back!” He ran towards Maisie for a second, since she was on her way to get tomatoes now. “When I get taller than Uncle Lorcan, you’ll wish you were less mean to me.”

Well, that would be a problem for future Maisie. At ten years old, Finn was so short, taunting him about it was almost too easy.

“Yeah, whatever.” She tapped her brother’s shoulder and pointed at another direction. “Go get the parmesan cheese.”

Finn turned to leave, but swung back to her. “Can we have ice cream later?”

Ice cream that she would have to pay, because she couldn’t report to the parental unit about illicit ice cream before dinner, let alone request a refund.

“Fine, just—“

“Alright! I’m there!”

Ever since Maisie got her first job, her brother started acting as if she was a millionaire. Sometimes, she wondered if he believed that her salary was the same as their parents’, which would be highly inaccurate. Despite the age gap, her parents never asked Maisie to act in any way that resembled a parental role—still, she liked to treat her siblings once in a while, give their jobless selves a taste of freedom, let them see what it’s like to have ice cream before dinner just because you can.

Before she knew it, he was back with the cheese.

“Can you buy me that Kinder Easter egg?” He pointed at a cardboard display filled with them. “The one with the dinosaur.”

Maisie narrowed her eyes on Finn. “You told Mom you wanted another one.”

“Yeah, because she only let me pick one.”

Her eyebrows shot when she came closer and saw the price tag. “Hell, no. I’d rather pay for a new haircut.”

“Hey!” Finn protested, running a hand through his newly cut hair. “Mom said she likes it!”

“You look ridiculous.”

“I’m so gonna tell her you said that.”

“Do it. Deep down, she agrees with me.”

˜˜

When she arrived, the house was calmer than usual.

“You aren’t magic!” Eamon shouted to his smirking, completely unfazed sister. “You’re not!”

Maisie walked past them towards the kitchen, where her dad prepped dinner as if the twins weren’t about to rip each other’s heads off in the living room.

“Hey, Maisy Daisy,” he called without looking away from the onion he was chopping. “Did you get everything?”

She put the bags on the counter as an answer, then her dad kissed the crown of her head in thanks and promised to repay her later.

Things didn’t seem to progress at all in the living room—actually, they did, if one could count Eamon getting angrier as progress.

“You don’t fly! You don’t control fire! You don’t teleport!”

Enid giggled. “I know how, I just don’t want to.”

“NO! YOU CAN’T!”

Maisie cut in, “I mean, she could.”

That made the boy stop and narrow his eyes on her, begrudgingly hanging on to whatever she was about to say. Since she was more than twice the twins’ age and the wisest of them all, sometimes her siblings actually listened to something Maisie said.

“I mean…” she shrugged. “We don’t know where you two came from, so maybe she really does have magic.”

Enid crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

“FINN!” Maisie shouted and waited a moment for her brother to come out of his room. “Do you remember when we found Enid and Eamon in the trash?”

“That’s a lie!” Her ever-so-cool little sister yelled, her green eyes welling up.

“Oh, yeah.” Finn said after taking a moment to process the information, acting nonchalant—if he laughed, it was game over. “That day was wild.”

Eamon stood frozen in shock, while Enid bellowed an ear-shattering cry.

“Maisie! Finn!” Rowan yelled from the kitchen. “Stop telling your siblings we found them in the trash!”

“But they need to know the truth!” Maisie shouted back, wondering if her dad heard her over Enid’s cries.

“What on Earth is going on here?” Her Mom showed up, wrapped in a towel with her hair wet.

Eamon ran to hug Aelin’s middle, his eyes teary. “Are you not my mommy?”

Maisie rolled her eyes. Mama’s boy.

“Of course I am, honey.” She frowned. “What’s going on?”

With a sigh, Dad was finally able to join the rest in the living room. “Finn and Maisie told the twins they’re adopted.”

Aelin sent them her classic Are you kidding me? mom look, as if Maisie was to blame, then proceeded to soothe the seven-year-olds.

If they fell for it, it was their fault for being stupid. There’s a picture of Dad as a kid on Grandma Rory’s hallway from when he was Eamon’s age, and they look like the same person in there.

“The only one adopted here was Fleetfoot,” Dad said.

“No, she’s not. I gave birth to her.” Mom sent him a mischievous look. “I went into labor for her.”

“Um—“ Maisie cleared her throat. “Fleetfoot’s mine.”

Dad sent Mom an apologetic smile. “She really is Maisie’s.”

“I want a dog too!” Enid cut in.

“Yeah, me too!” Finn joined.

Maisie hummed. “We could give them a country name…”

“Like Eyllwe,” Eamon said.

Rowan’s eyes widened. “No! Fleetfoot’s everyone’s,” he said, completely contradicting himself after the threat of more poop for him to clean.

˜˜

From the looks of it, dinner would be ready on time for breakfast.

To be fair, her dad was never late to finish dinner, but his desire to make this a special one and the boiling tomatoes in order to make the sauce from scratch led to this.

It was kinda cute, how Dad conjured something special out of thin air just because his wife hinted that she was feeling like it over text while they were at work.

Maisie saw a glimpse of her parents canoodling in the kitchen on her way to her bedroom, but almost ran to the toilet instead. They were so adorably disgusting, all that love made her want to throw up.

Her parents were no better than any PDA-addicted straight couple she saw at school, except that while the average high schooler couple lasted about three months, her parents have been at it for a little over a decade.

At least, a light peck was the furthest they got in front of their kids—or ever. For all Maisie knew, she and her three siblings came from artificial insemination.

A savior from her thoughts, Finn knocked on the door.

“We need to talk,” he said, looking crestfallen.

“C’mere.”

Maisie sat on the side of her bed, and tapped the free space beside her for him to sit. Instead, he sat on her lap. Weird.

She was about to ask him what was going on when a low, rumbling sound coming from him filled the air.

The little bitch had just farted on her.

Finn ran away, giggling, while Maisie screamed the most irate shriek ever known to man.

He locked himself in his bedroom, but her quickened pulse only energized her, aiding tense upper arms to pound against his door.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU,” Maisie shouted at her hiding brother.

He’d get out sometime, and when he did, she’d be there.

On the kitchen’s threshold, Aelin peeked her head into the hallway. “What’s going on here?”

The teenager slowly turned to her mom, jaw tight, and seethed, “Why. Was. He. Born?”

With a sigh that came deep from her soul, Aelin fully stepped into the hallway. “What did your brother do now?”

Maisie pointed at her closed bedroom door. “Smell it!”

Her mom stepped in and out of the bedroom, coughing. “Gods, Finn!”

In a feeble attempt to fix the situation, Aelin opened Maisie’s bedroom’s window and sprayed some air freshener inside—one hand on the bottle, another clamping her nose. Still, the girl didn’t trust to go back into her room for the next hour or so.

Aelin knocked on Finn’s door twice to get his attention. “That was way too stinky, honey, I’m cutting off some of your junk food!”

“Come on!” he complained from the other side of the door.

Too bad Finn couldn’t see her triumphant smirk. It’d rile him up beautifully.

Two taps to her shoulder. “Dinner’s almost ready. Come help me set the table.”

“What was that?” Dad asked when Mom got back to the kitchen, focused on the stove.

“Finn farted in Maisie's room and she threatened his life.”

“Oh,” was all he said, mixing something on the tomato sauce.

She desperately needed to meet whoever taught her parents how to live this peacefully amidst chaos.

“On my room? He farted on me.” She flailed her arms, trying to explain her brother’s audacity. “He sat on my lap, his butt to my thigh, and farted.”

Aelin snorted. “I told you the kids shouldn’t spend that much time with Aedion.”

Rowan’s eyes lit up. “You did tell me some awfully similar stories from when you were younger.”

After the table was set, Mom was back to her occasional glass of wine, and all was left to do was her dad’s finishing touches to dinner.

Maisie cleared her throat. “I was thinking…”

Her dad immediately turned around and pointed a spoon at her. “If it’s about that party, don’t bother.”

“Not a party!”

“Money, then.” Aelin smirked behind her glass of wine.

The girl crossed her arms. Her mom’s grin turned smug.

Maisie groaned. “Fine! But it’s good, I promise.”

“Go on,” Rowan said.

“I want to buy Easter eggs for Finn and the twins, but I can’t afford the cool ones.”

“Aw, honey, that’s so sweet.” Her mom melted right on spot. “I’m sorry we can’t help you with that.”

Maisie’s face fell. “What.”

Even her dad seemed a little confused, though he tried to hide it.

Aelin sat straighter to explain, “You see, if we help you with this, your siblings will ask to do the same, and it wouldn’t be fair to say no to them after…”

Maisie rolled her eyes. Her parents and their “equal treatment”—

“Do not roll your eyes at your mother,” Rowan warned.

Aelin continued, “Next thing we know, we spent our entire paychecks on chocolate, Finn is farting on our faces all day, the twins will never fall asleep again from the sugar rush, and your dad will be shoving food down your throat because of some crazy diet you saw online to get rid of the Easter weight.” She raised her brow in that infuriating mom way of hers. “Did I miss something?”

“Fine!” Maisie held both arms up in surrender. “You want me to buy your kids lame chocolate, is that it?”

“If they can’t appreciate whatever you can afford, I’m not raising them right.”

“Ugh!” Maisie groaned, and sat facing away from her mother.

A moment later, Dad sent her off to tell her siblings dinner was ready, and soon everyone was at the table, ready to attack the food that took ages to be ready.

Except that, when she asked for the parmesan cheese, Enid took it and kept waving it in front of her instead of just passing it over.

After seven years of Enid, Maisie was unimpressed. “Are you trying to tease me?”

The little girl giggled. “No, you can have it, but I want to see your eyes light up first!”

With a sigh, Rowan took it from Enid’s hand and passed it over to Maisie. “Can we just try to be rational for once?”

“I was rational once,” Eamon said, frowning.

With his mouth full, Finn said, “I want the next special dinner to be at one of those fancy pasta places with two forks.”

“Manners,” Aelin warned the wild beast she called a son.

“Mom and Dad never take us to fancy restaurants for a reason,” Maisie said while giving a pointed look to Finn, who was by her side.

The boy rolled his eyes and mimicked in a high-pitched voice, “MoM aND dAD nEVer tAkE uS tO fANcY rEStAuRaNts FoR a rEasOn.”

Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm, and that’s when her parents lost patience.

Rowan lifted his pointed finger, “Do not—“

“Maisie, Finn, for Mala’s sake…” Aelin started, pinching the bridge of her nose.

˜˜

Later that night, Maisie was scrolling on TikTok before sleep, but two knocks on her bedroom door stopped her short.

It was Finn, holding his blanket. More often than not, he slept in Maisie’s room—she wasn’t sure why, but it’d been this way since he was little. Already knowing what was about to happen, Fleetfoot moved to the foot of the bed to give him space. Her bed might look big, but it didn’t have nearly enough space for two people and a person-sized dog.

When she was taking off her many pillows to find some space for her brother, a bulky-looking folded paper caught her eye.

Maisie hid it back with the pillow and said, “Go get me some water.”

Finn complained, but complied.

Quickly unfolding the paper in the little time she had, Maisie recognized her dad’s writing and a fuckton of cash—not too much for an Air Force major, but enough to make a teenager who had a minimum-wage part-time job feel like a billionaire.

Groceries refund + your delivery fee

Don’t mention it—ever

Maisie’s grin grew wicked. She fucking loved her dad.

˜˜

Finding a reason to get out of the house on Easter was tough, but she managed it.

Maisie had already picked her dad’s sushi-filled Easter egg at the restaurant, since he hated chocolate, and the other ones had been retrieved from its hiding place at Uncle Aedion’s.

Inside her house, Finn was the first one to greet her.

He eyed her bags suspiciously. “What’s all that?”

Without a word, she took one Kinder egg that fit in her palm, and handed it to him. Finn took it in his hand, contemplated it for a second with a silly half-smile, then hugged Maisie tight, squeezing her waist.

“Gods!” She lightly slapped his head. “You’re so dumb.”

Before he processed what happened, Maisie got his actual Easter egg, the Kinder with the dinosaur he wanted.

His eyes lit up and his mouth hung open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, her brother crushed her into a hug that knocked her breath out of her lungs.

“Thanks, Mais.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She took a second to take it in, than wiggled out of his hug to hand the twins’ ones.

They looked so happy, it didn’t even look like Mom and Dad gave each of them giant Easter eggs three hours ago.

Her parents were watching them from afar, wearing one of those weird, sentimental parent smiles.

When she took out her dad’s from the bag, Rowan finally looked surprised—which was easily detected by his wife.

The “shell” part of his Easter egg was just nori and rice, but it was filled with seafood. Dad twirled his sushi egg in his hands, mouth ajar. “Honey, I didn’t think you’d get me something too. You didn’t have to.”

“Too?” Mom asked, lips quirked up. Her eyes sparkled, darted between Maisie and Rowan, then landed on her daughter. “Good to know you found a way to afford it.”

“I’m my father’s daughter.” Maisie shrugged. “Of course I know how to save money.”

She also knew how to spend it like her mother, but it wouldn’t be smart to mention right now.

At that point, Maisie knew Aelin figured out that Rowan gave her the money, and Mom knew Maisie knew she knew. Neither of them would say a word, though, and it was best this way.

She handed her mom’s next, a chocolate hazelnut Easter egg the size of Aelin’s head.

“I didn’t know Dad bought you the same one,” Maisie said with a sheepish smile.

“You won’t hear me complaining, honey.” Her mom kept intense eye contact with her Easter egg, likely unwrapping it in her mind as if she didn’t have a half-eaten identical one in her bedroom.

Aelin put her gift on the coffee table near them and hugged Maisie. “I love you, honey,” she said before kissing her daughter’s head. “Thank you for the gift. You’re such a great big sister.”

“I know, right?”

However, their hug was abruptly broken by shouting coming from the other side of the living room.

“Stop. Being. An idiot!” Enid shouted at Eamon for whatever reason they decided to bicker over this afternoon.

“We’re both idiots, but you’re the bigger idiot!” he fought back.

Maisie tapped her mom’s shoulders. “Go tame your evil twins.”

“Don’t call your siblings that!”

She sighed, not surprised by how quickly their moment of peace—a rarity in her home—was broken.

Weirdly enough, her parents seemed to enjoy it.

A/N: In the plans of this outtake I have deep into my notes app, Aelin mentions that since her husband doesn’t like chocolate, her Easter gift to him would be given “later tonight”. I thought you’d like to know *wink*

2nd A/N: Yes I left Maisie’s exact age in the dark on purpose heheheh this one spoiler I’m not handing out like this.

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #look at us now

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kendrene · 1 year

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avatrice and... clocks

“She’s off by five minutes at least.”

“I am aware, Lilith.” Beatrice doesn’t even bother looking at her stopwatch.

“She’s not gonna make it.” Lilith continues, seemingly delighting in pointing out the obvious. “Again.”

In the staging area Camila set up for her, Ava is fiddling with what appears to be a slab of stone. No junctures are visible on it, no handles or buttons or possible keyholes. Still, Ava sits in front of it, probing at the smooth surface with agile fingers, pressing at one spot, rapping her knuckles over another. Beatrice’s focus is all on Ava’s hands, nimble, nervy, tendons standing out like taut lengths of rope when she flexes her finger against the stone, seeking some sort of purchase.

She sighs. The telltale pressure of an impeding headache gathers at her temples. She pinches the bridge of her nose, hard, wishing she could leave the overbearing neon lights of the warehouse they’ve been using to practice for the sunlit wharf outside.

“Time isn’t up yet. Maybe she’ll surprise us. Besides, she says she learns something new about this type of lock with every run.”

“She’s said that-” Lilith checks the tablet they’ve been using to keep track of each attempt. Smirk, like she’s reading something funny. “235 times before already, give or take. Just tell her she’s fired already”

“Camila says she’s the best there is. If she can’t do it, no one else can.”

“Yeah?” Lilith’s smile is nothing but teeth. “And where did Camila find her, on Craigslist?”

“I’m only on Tinder.” Ava’s voice crackles over the comms Beatrice belatedly realises she’s left open. “Also, I’m wheelchair-bound, not deaf. So, I can totally hear you, and you’re distracting me.”

“Sorry,” Lilith says, not meaning it.

“Yeah. I bet you are.”

The overhead lights switch from white to strobing red. Ava’s out of time. Were this the real thing, every door and window in the Vatican Museums would automatically lock, security teams would do a sweep and they’d spend a good amount of time in prison. Beatrice refuses to think of what Adriel’d do to Shannon in the meantime.

“We’ll have to take it from the top, Ava.” She relays into the comms. Considering how little progress they’ve made, she’s surprised her tone is so steady “Do you need to take a break?”

“She needs a miracle.” Lilith throws the tablet down, disgust chiseling her features into a scowl. “Divine intervention or something.”

“Wanna give it a try?” Ava rolls herself through the door of the observation room, careful to tuck her elbows in as she squeezes past the threshold. “I’m sure you could convince the lock to open for you with one of your charming smiles.”

Lilith glowers. Ava, somehow immune, just grins. Lilith storms off.

“You should try not to antagonise her.” Ava opens her mouth, probably to retort that Lilith is kind of a jerk. “I need everyone to get along if we are to succeed.”

Ava pauses, mouth open, then shrugs. “You’re the boss, boss.” Beatrice doubts that’s the end of the teasing. She elects to let this particular fight go. They have a far more important battle yet to win.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Capitan.”

“Ava.”

“Sorry, sorry. Joking to cope with stress is kind of my thing.” Ava rocks the wheelchair back and forth. “Do you want me to go again?”

“Don’t you need more time to rest?”

Ava lifts a hand. Wiggles her fingers. “Nah. These babies have loads of stamina.”

Beatrice can feel herself blush.

“By the way.” Beatrice has no time to come up with a clever reply or deflection, because Ava keeps on talking, which she has learned in the 72 hours they have spent in close proximity, is a thing that Ava does. “This holy frisbee we’re stealing from the church to get your friend back. You don’t really believe this Adriel dude will keep his word, do you? Like,” On the other side of the glass, Ava’s fingers have resumed their dance, and it’s hard for Beatrice to follow what she’s saying. “He gets the artefact, he can just kill us all. Is what I would do, anyway.”

“That’s comforting.”

“What? Surprised I can think like the bad guys do?” A low rumble comes from the slab of stone, revealing a much more complicated inner mechanism. It gleams copper under the lights. “I’m not a bad or a good guy, Bea.” Plenty of people shorten her name; nobody makes it sound half as sweet. Ava smiles at her, triumphant. “I’m a thief.”

#avatrice #warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #heist au #dren writes

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princessamericachavez · 1 year

Text

Obsessed with the couch metaphor callbacks in 6x15

It’s so incredibly obvious that Chris falling asleep on the couch was meant to mirror Buck. They are filmed the exact same way: camera follows Eddie into the kitchen, we stay with him there for a moment, then switch to the opposite angle as he comes back to reveal the sleeping person, and then back over his shoulder for a POV.

My doubt here is WHAT are they trying to tell us with these shots, and I have a few theories

Paralleling Buck and Chris as adoptive father/son? (This falls a bit short for me tbh but it’s likely given Buck’s donor arc, and it’s interesting that the actual witness to this reality isn’t him, but Eddie, who might point out Buck’s parental role to him later)

Showing Eddie lonely and how he needs someone else in his life because a kid and his bff aren’t enough and he still feels lonely (I actually hate this one but don’t put it past the writers… still doesn’t make much sense to me given how Buck’s nap was framed as welcome vulnerability and not a negative and it was pre-Pepa too)

Rule of 3 (A):we already saw Eddie asleep in the couch at the end of 6a but we could parallel Buck and Chris coming back to the kitchen to find Eddie asleep this time (could be… likely given what we know about Buck’s couch metaphor coming back in his last 6b scene, it could be the moment it hits him)

Rule of 3 (B): we could finish the season with all three Diaz-Buckley boys sleeping together on the couch, completely at ease and happy (again, likely given what I mentioned before and because it seems like Buck & Eddie will have an exhausting finale)

Rule of 3 (C): now this is wishful thinking but I want a mix of the past two options in which Christopher wakes up the day after the finale, goes to the kitchen to grab some juice or smth and Chris comes back to the living room to find both Buck and Eddie have fallen asleep on the couch after work.

Regardless… the thing I’m most curious about is the nature of the metaphor’s connection to the Diaz’s.

For one, it was actually Chris who brought up the couch the first time and it was Eddie who pointed out the romantic relationship symbolism of the whole thing. They are as tied to this idea as Buck. It was their first family scene this season and the effects of it have been rippling for 15 episodes so far.

Now, Buck falling asleep in 6x12 was clearly meant to be a nod towards the metaphor. The narrative made sure we knew it: Margaret pointing it out, Maddie mentioning it’s a long story to remind us of its significance, Buck struggling to sleep in his mom’s couch, and after he sleeps at Eddie’s he even marvels at how quickly he passed out. All these were big neon signs to make sure we had it in mind.

This scene in 6x15 however… Buck’s not here!!! The obvious framing as a callback to 6x12 in this episode is a direct connection to Buck and that moment and that metaphor. But it’s only Eddie and Christopher here. It’s a direct callback to Buck’s search for happiness. But given his absence, this scene isn’t about bringing Buck one step closer to realizing who his true happiness is. This scene is for us, the audience, only. It’s the writers telling us they haven’t forgotten and that we are still moving towards that realization. More neon signs.

In 6x12 we canonically connect Buck’s metaphor to Eddie’s couch for the first time (first time textually, at least, even if many of us saw the subtext coming).

In 6x15 we canonically connect Chris and Eddie to Buck’s couch metaphor.

These are similar statements, but not the same.

Anyway, my point is that wherever this is going it’s a Diaz-Buckley journey and the narrative is making sure we have it at the forefront of our minds while Buck and Eddie struggle with the wrong people and feelings of loneliness.

#911 fox #911 spec #buddie #911 spoilers #Evan buck Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Christopher Diaz #couch metaphor #couch theory

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foreverindreamlandd · 2 years

Text

Awake My Soul • 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 4.2k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since zombies first began their invasion, and despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve managed to survive up until this point. Now it’s time to face your most dangerous challenge yet….the grumpy, untrusting, fiercely protective Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Note: Forced proximity time!! Y'all might hate or love me for this and honestly I cannot wait to hear what you think LOL. Enjoy ;)

Series Masterlist / Series Playlist

You got to the lookout station fifteen minutes before your shift started, climbing up the ladder to the treehouse-looking structure they built by the front gate.

The original brick wall was wide enough for anyone to walk along, but this post served as the central spot for those on watch. Hanging from the top of the A-frame roof that covered the small square surface was a makeshift chandelier that Bruce put together, with five light bulbs. One in the center that provided a soft, amber glow in the space for you to see what you were doing, surrounded by four smaller bulbs that correlated with the different sides of the wall. Green was East, Blue was West, North was Yellow, and South was Red. He had managed to create some sort of sensors along the trees that made them light up if someone walked through the invisible barrier.

“The color you’ll most often see is yellow, and that’s usually when it’s one of us returning to camp,” Sarah told you when she gave you the rundown of the watch post earlier that day. “We haven’t had an issue other than a walker here and there. It’s pretty rare thanks to the protection of the fog and the Bog.”

You grimaced. “You couldn’t have thought of a better name for the Bog that didn’t rhyme with fog?”

Sarah frowned. “I’ve actually never used both words in a sentence back to back like that. It’s pretty terrible.” The two of you laughed.

Clint was there when you made it to the top of the post, playing around with his bow.

When he looked up, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Need something?”

You shook your head. “I’m here to relieve you.”

This time, his brows shot up. “You’re on third?”

“Yelena made me switch.”

He paused. “And Bucky still has this shift?”

Your nostrils flared, and after a beat you nodded.

Clint only chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up. “What’d you do to piss her off?”

“Nothing!” you protested, crossing your arms. “She says it’s going to help us bond or whatever.”

Instead of a chuckle, Clint snorted. “What a fuckin’ piece of work.” He sighed. “Do you want me to switch with you? You can take second shift and I can be here with Buck-”

“No, no.” you held a hand up waving off the gesture. “I appreciate the offer, but you do enough around here and I need to start earning my keep. Besides, she’s not wrong. Bucky may hate me for the rest of eternity, but if I’m going to stay here I gotta get used to it.”

He shook his head, gaze turning sympathetic. “Just give him-”

“Time,” you finished for him. “Everyone says that.” Annoyance rose within you. “It’s been a month, Clint, and the concept of me breathing the same air as him makes the guy angry. I put the people he cares about in danger, and I gotta own that if I want to be part of Shield.”

Clint’s eyes flashed behind your shoulder, but you were too riled up to notice. “And yes, part of me wishes he could see that I’m not going to burn this place down and that I would gladly die for anyone here, even his grumpy ass. But that’s not going to happen and we all just need to move on and let him despise me for everything I am.”

Your breathing was heavy, but you had finally picked up on the fact that Clint wasn’t mindlessly staring past you, his focus was on something.

Someone.

Dread coursed through you as you turned, knowing full well who was standing behind you.

Bucky’s jaw was locked shut, eyes on yours for a moment before going to the ground.

Clint cleared his throat, making his way to the ladder. “Have a good night, you two.” He muttered a good luck as he started climbing down.

You stood there in silence for a few seconds, and since this was your first watch and you had no idea what you were doing, you were forced to remain there and wait for instructions.

“So…” you started, and that seemed to break Bucky from his spell.

He cleared his throat, moving to one of the corners overlooking the outside of camp. “You can sit wherever,” he mumbled almost incoherently, leaning his back against the vertical wooden post that made up a piece of the wall.

You ran your tongue over your teeth, then walked over to the corner across from his. You stared at him for a moment, waiting for further instruction. When none came, you simply followed his lead and kept your focus on the outside.

Bucky didn’t say anything for the next four hours.

Just kept staring in the same direction, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. And you found yourself continuously staring at him, eyes flickering over to view his side profile glowing underneath the illumination from the light above.

It was torture.

For some reason, you found yourself suffocated by the proximity. He was less than five feet away, and you were certain that if you moved your foot over by just a few inches it would connect with his leg. The idea of touching Bucky at all made you want to set your skin on fire. Your head pounded, the air constricted from your lungs, you couldn’t see straight because all you could think about was how close you two were. Think about what would happen if your boots touched, if he shuffled a few feet closer, if he leaned in and-

“Are you okay?” he asked, brows furrowed with annoyed confusion and your eyes widened at the realization that you had most likely been staring at him for way too long and he could no longer ignore it.

You cleared your throat. “‘M fine.” Your gaze went back to the trees as your face burned, and through your peripherals you watched Bucky follow suit and turn toward the outside.

There was a moment that his thumb started tapping against the wood to some unknown beat, and you nearly spoke up to ask what song he had stuck in his head.

But when you turned to him, you quickly thought against it. Not because he had his normal pissed off at the world expression, but the complete opposite. His jaw had relaxed, his eyes had softened. For the first time since those few good moments you shared before shit went to hell at the Bog, Bucky appeared to be at peace.

It would be the worst thing you could ever do in your life to speak up and put him back in his grumpy state.

So with that, you returned your focus on keeping watch, eyelids growing heavy as the night sky slowly transitioned from black to a deep indigo,then to a soft purple glow as the sun began to rise.

The second Sam was up the ladder to relieve you, Bucky shot up without a word and climbed down.

Sam looked from the ladder to you, a single brow raised. “That bad, huh?”

You sighed, slowly moving to stand, your muscles sore from being in the same position for so long. “Honestly? I thought it was going to be much worse.”

He huffed, then rested a hand on your shoulder. “Look, I told Yelena that this would just be on a trial basis. If you want off this shift-”

“No, Sam,” you said, shaking your head. “You all have done so much for me, the least I can do is suck it up and sit in silence with Bucky for a few hours a day.”

Please don’t take this time from me, you thought out of nowhere.

All he did was nod in response, then moved to settle himself for his shift.

You watched Bucky make his way across the camp.

Instead of going to the bunks to get some sleep, he walked into the middle building.

Was he really going to get a workout in after being up all night?

It’s not like it was the time that he normally went to the gym. That slot was usually in the early afternoon after he had gotten some rest and eaten.

Weird…

You, on the other hand, happily and slowly trudged toward your room and passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow, a soft tapping of an unfamiliar beat playing in your mind and lulling you to sleep.

“So there’s this charge they created for the rifle. It’s this crazy blue color and disintegrates anything in its path.” You grimaced as you remembered the sight of ten walkers being turned to dust. “It was like an icy blue flame. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You looked between Bruce’s contemplative look and Peter’s wide eyes before looking back at the very amateur drawing you put together for them.

Bruce ran his fingers along the center part of the device, his other hand wrapped around the lower part of his face as he considered the development of such a weapon.

“Holy shit,” Peter finally murmured, “I can’t believe that made a ray gun.”

You and Bruce both stared at Peter for a moment and he blushed, focusing his attention back on the diagram.

“I remember hearing them talk about getting the charge to a certain temperature to generate such a concentrated amount of heat. And that all of those things worked together so that it wouldn’t even make a sound-”

“Because of the frequency created by the force of the heat,” Bruce continued, writing a few equations on the paper.

You nodded. “I just have no idea how they created that charge mechanism….sorry I can’t be more help, Doc.”

Banner shook his head, taking off his glasses to look at you. “Y/n, this is amazing. I would have never come up with something like this.”

“Yeah, like we’ve played around with a bunch of stuff, but who could have thought that tech like this could exist?” Peter added.

You shrugged. “Who would have thought that people would want ray guns during a zombie apocalypse?”

Peter laughed and you winked at him.

“We definitely have a lot to work with to try to replicate this device,” Bruce continued. “Would it be okay for us to come back to you with any questions when they come up?”

“Definitely,” you said. “You know where to find me…bonus points if you rescue me from watch.”

He chuckled. “Heard about that. Things going as terribly as expected?”

You rolled your eyes. “I mean, he hasn’t said more than a dozen words to me in a week, which I guess is better than him yelling at me four hours a day.”

Bruce’s lips turned down in deliberation. “Honestly, that seems pretty promising.”

“Also, I totally offered to take his spot if he was too miserable and he said no without even pausing to think about it,” Peter added.

You felt warmth run through you at the admission, and you couldn’t stop the corner of your lip from turning up.

Bruce pointed a pencil at Peter, brows raised and he smiled at you. “See? What’d I tell ya? Give it time and he’ll come around!”

At that, you grimaced. “Maybe, but I wish time passed faster than a glacial pace when we’re sitting there not doing anything for hours.”

“Why don’t you bring a book with you? Or a journal if you prefer writing.”

You gaped at Bruce. “You can do that?”

“Of course! We have a library at our disposal, and we have the light over the post for a reason. As long as you look up every few minutes to check that everything is clear, there’s no harm in it.”

“Fuck yes,” you groaned, head tilting back to the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Bruce. “You just made everything….so much better. Thanks, Doc.”

He smiled. “Anytime.”

You smiled back before looking at the clock on the wall. “Shit, I gotta get going guys, before Lena decides to punish me with burpees for being tardy.”

Peter scowled. “What are you still doing here? Go! Before it’s too late!”

The two of you laughed as you made it out into the hallway.

“Hey, Y/n!” Bruce called, and you turned to find him jogging over until he was right next to you. He turned around to make sure Peter wasn’t paying attention and when he looked back at you, you suddenly felt nervous. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”

You swallowed back the nerves, forcing a smile and keeping your voice casual. “Of course, Bruce. Everything okay?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just…wanted you to know.”

You nodded back, trying to ignore the panic building at the possible meaning behind his words. “Gotcha. Well, thanks Bruce.”

“Anytime, Y/n.”

He turned away and headed back into the lab, leaving you there to deal with the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

That night, you started with your normal routine of relieving Clint a few minutes early and settling into your corner.

You stared outside the wall, doing a quick scan for any unusual activity. Once it was deemed safe, you dug into your pack and pulled out the book you spent hours looking for while browsing the library, nearly buzzing with excitement at the idea of four uninterrupted hours of reading.

It had been years since you had been able to do something like this. Before the invasion, you would spend entire weekends holed up in your room by the window escaping into a world found between the pages of the various tomes you found either at your town library or the personal library your parents had amassed over the years. Then, there were occasionally quiet moments while traveling with your parents and the Eternals, but you could only carry two books with you at a time.

Whenever you found an abandoned bookstore or library, you traded one of the books for a new one for you to read over and over and over again until you basically had it memorized.

The second book, though, was one you would never let go of. It was the one you kept with you ever since the invasion, when your family was forced to run from your home.

You couldn’t help but grab the book from your nightstand, your favorite comfort read, one you knew you could never part with.

Not unless you were forced to.

Not unless you were kidnapped and the small number of items you had were taken from you.

When you escaped from Hydra, you had nothing but a single dagger. It took days of scouring different spots for new weapons and supplies.

And whenever you found an abandoned bookstore or library, you desperately searched the shelves for one title.

It was never there.

And unfortunately, after hours of looking through the Brookfield library, it wasn’t in their collection either.

You hoped you would find it eventually.

Until then, you had plenty of other stories to keep you busy.

Bucky climbed up the ladder quietly, and though you didn’t look up at him upon entry, you could see through your peripherals that he paused and stared at you for a few moments before claiming his usual spot in the corner next to yours.

The relief of having some sort of distraction from his silent existence and close proximity nearly made you want to cry as you turned each page, following Bruce’s orders and checking to make sure no alarm was off and that you couldn’t hear anything approaching.

As usual, there was nothing to be alarmed of. The only thing you could see was Bucky’s head turning in your direction every minute on the dot, as if he were counting the seconds until it was deemed appropriate for him to look over again. And the only thing you could hear was the chaotic tapping of his thumb, much different from the beats he created in his mind.

He was restless.

And then, suddenly, not even thirty minutes into watch, he spoke.

“Are you reading Twilight?”

You looked up from the page to find him openly staring at you now, his brows knit together at the realization.

“You know Twilight?” you asked, answering his question with a question.

He scowled, looking away as if already done with the conversation.

For you, however, it had just started.

The corners of your mouth twitched up. “Have you….have you read these before?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but did turn his gaze back to you. Rather than looking pissed, he just looked annoyed.

You could live with that.

“I didn’t, because I have taste,” he said. “But Becs - my sister - went through a phase and tried to drag me along every step of the way.”

An ache formed in your chest realizing the existence of a sister, who wasn’t here at camp and that could really only mean one thing.

This wasn’t the time for bummers, though. You were determined to get him to say at least ten more words to you tonight.

“So you’re saying you’ve seen the movies.”

His lips pressed into a thin line and you scoffed.

“You’re telling me that the CGI baby and the weird blue filter used in the first movie didn’t immediately compel you to binge read the entire series?”

That’s when it happened.

The greatest moment probably of your entire life.

Bucky Barnes laughed.

It was a chuckle that only lasted a beat, but it wasn’t something hidden behind a groan of a scoff like before. You had caught him so off guard that he couldn’t help but let out a deep, grizzly, baritone sound of amusement.

And just as Sarah said over a month ago, it was contagious, and you breathed out a small laugh yourself in wonder.

Somehow it got even better, because then he made a fucking joke.

“The werewolves definitely almost pulled me in, but then one of them imprinted on a literal baby and I was quickly turned off by that.”

You nodded. “The whole Nessie thing was a bit of a mess, I’ll admit. But that’s what’s so good about it! It’s bad….but also amazing.”

All you got in response was a grunt of acknowledgement, and you felt a newfound boldness to keep going.

“Okay then, if you’re not a Twihard, what’s your favorite book?”

There was a pause.

“Please tell me it’s some cheesy romcom,” you said.

He glared at you again, once again without any true malice. “The Hobbit.”

“Fuck yes, that’s such a good one! And it’s on the shelves. We could do a book club and everything.”

In a flash, you witnessed Bucky’s eyes lighten with excitement and then immediately switch to a dim, lifeless gaze. “No.”

You swallowed, caught off guard by the emptiness in his voice.

It was more conversation than you had ever dreamed of having, and you knew that if you ever wanted to have it happen again you would have to know when to stop pushing him.

For now, hearing his voice, his laugh, seeing something other than disdain in his eyes, it was enough.

The next evening, Bucky decided it was time to continue the conversation.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asked just as you got to the part where Bella had basically jumped Edward in the meadow.

You looked up to find him staring outside the wall, but then he slowly turned his head to you when you didn’t respond.

“Is it Twilight?” he asked with a cocked brow.

You hummed, shaking your head. “Top ten for sure, but no.”

Silence. “So…?” Bucky urged.

“Ella Enchanted,” you said finally, closing the book and positioning your body to face him.

He frowned. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s a kids book,” you replied. “And a stellar movie with Anne Hathaway. But it’s been my comfort read since I was, like, ten or something. I even took it with me when we had to leave after this-” you waved your hand around, “-started to happen.”

Bucky nodded in understanding. “Do you still have it?”

You shook your head. “Lost it during the Hydra shitshow.”

“Is it in the library?” he pressed.

Another shake of your head and he nodded again.

“Don’t worry,” you said, “I’m sure I’ll find it by the time you’re done going through the Twilight Saga.”

He scowled, an expression you realized you loved way too much. “There is no way in hell.”

“Come onnnn,” you whined. “For the book club!”

The right corner of his lip twitched. “No way.”

You sighed dramatically, opening the book back up. “You’re no fun, Beefcake.”

He groaned.

You smiled.

The next day, you went to the library to grab New Moon.

When Bucky got up to the watchtower, his eyes landed on the copy of Twilight resting in his corner.

Even with your eyes glued to the page of your book, you could feel him glaring at you.

“Just suck it up and read it,” you said, still not looking at him. “You can thank me later.”

With one long, dramatic sigh, Bucky picked up the book and sat down, opening up to the first page.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from grinning like an idiot.

“Look,” Bucky started, waving the book in the air. “I just don’t understand why she’s so in love with this dude!”

He had been going on for at least five minutes now, you just sitting there listening to him ramble.

“Sure, he saves her from those guys in the town or whatever, but then nearly kills her by driving like an idiot-”

“But he has super enhanced bat senses!” you argued, fighting to keep your face serious.

That was when Sam climbed up, brows already furrowed from hearing actual conversation being shared between you two as he made his way up the ladder.

Bucky ignored Sam and glared at you. “Okay, but what about other cars on the road? I saw that scene play out in the movies. They had to weave and bob around vampire boy and totally could have caused an accident!”

He stood up and you followed suit, giving Sam a nod and a little shrug as he continued to stare at you.

Bucky, on the other hand, continued to talk as he made his way down the ladder. Usually, you would wait for him to race down and run away as quickly as possible, but since he apparently wasn’t done with this conversation, you decided to follow right behind.

“Okay, whatever, he drives like an idiot and tells her that he basically has anger issues and basically that he’s dangerous for her. And in the movie, she like made him follow her into the woods by the school, which was already dumb. In this, though? He drives her to an isolated place a mile into woods where it would take weeks for someone to find her body? And she’s still all heart eyes?”

He got to the bottom, and stood there until you stepped onto the ground before walking alongside you.

“It’s called love, Beefcake! Sometimes you do dumb shit like go into the middle of the woods with a vampire who is over 100 years old and really wants to drink your blood!”

Bucky shook his head, not stopping as you passed the middle building which had been his normal pit stop after watch. You felt something inside you ignite with excitement, trying desperately to keep your cool even though a part of you was certain that you had fallen asleep during watch and all of this was a dream.

“I can’t believe I let Becca read these when we were younger. I basically gave her the go-ahead to seek out dangerous, blood-sucking bad boys.”

You laughed. “Well, at least now you know to be on the lookout for any pale man who asks you to go to an abandoned field so he can confess his undying love for you. But it’s clear that you hate the book, so just know I appreciate you giving it a try and I’ll return New Moon back in the library when I’m done.”

You looked over just as he clenched his jaw before grumbling something incoherently.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Youcanbringitwithyouwhenyou’redone.”

You bit your bottom lip and smiled, slowing your steps to a stop as you approached the front door to the bunk house.

“You got it, Beefcake. Anything to keep book club alive and well.”

Bucky smiled back, crystalline blue eyes locked on yours for three glorious seconds.

And then they widened, his lips turned down, and he looked to the ground as he cleared his throat.

“I should go,” he said sternly, turning on his heel and storming over to his usual destination, the gym.

His body tensed more and more with each step he took, and you saw his hand clench so tightly you wondered if his palms were bleeding from his nails digging into his skin.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, memorizing the look of his smile from just a few seconds ago.

Baby steps.

Chapter 6

#Bucky x reader #Bucky x you #Bucky x y/n #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #awake my soul #ams #zombie au #zombie apocalypse au

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goldensunset · 3 months

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it’s breath of the wild’s 7th anniversary can i get sappy and vulnerable on main real quick cuz it completely changed my life

so it was christmas 2017 when my brother received a nintendo switch and breath of the wild. i remembered watching him play a bit the day he got it and funny enough my first thought back then upon seeing the opening cutscene was ‘wow this animation is janky’ because i thought we were watching an animated movie. the moment i realized it was a video game i was shook. bc for a game WOW how beautiful. anyway i watched him mess around and die horribly and it was funny but i didn’t think much about it

flash forward a few months later. in april of 2018- a nice spring day, must’ve been a weekend or some other time i had time off bc my friend was over- my brother came home from college and brought his nintendo switch and this game over. he had me make a file and i didn’t know what i was doing at all because i was not only unfamiliar with the game and console, but largely unfamiliar with the concept of this type of video game at all

see, i was not a gamer at all. i had played mario kart/party and some random stuff on the ds but nothing resembling an action adventure game aside from super mario 64 ds. and i never got past like the first level or so on that game bc i was bad at it as a kid and also like.. scared? of games? like a game in which you had to fight enemies and could take damage and die. even something really simple like a goomba was actively stressful to me somehow. (to this day i still kind of have the hyper-empathy mindset where letting the video game player die feels like letting a real person die i have to treat a fun work of fiction like a real life-or-death situation so i just prefer not to get into danger when i can avoid it. all that’s changed is i have the skill to face danger and accumulate ways to protect myself now lol)

soooo i don’t know what manner of madness convinced me to even try a game like breath of the wild, which is immensely more complicated and difficult than super mario 64 ds. but maybe it’s bc i was older then or bc my friend was over to help me and we were like trading the console? but you get what i’m saying. as one might expect, i was pressing the wrong buttons, getting overwhelmed by basic enemies, falling off cliffs bc i lacked precision skills in my motion, etc.

and as one might expect, i eventually got frustrated and bored. i remembered my brother asking me what my long-term strategy or plan was for playing the game, and that question sort of overwhelmed me because i was thinking ‘do i really intend to keep playing at all?’. when i put the game aside that day (after having only reached/fallen off the great plateau tower, i mean) i wasn’t really interested in continuing, and i figured i could probably never be good at it anyway.

but for some reason, and i wish i remembered why, i picked it back up again not long after. me, who had never been willing to commit to a game. maybe it was my desire to correct my failures and figure out what i was at last doing. i felt ready for a good challenge and i got the sense this was the sort of game that was more skill than luck. maybe it was the beautiful scenery and ambience. maybe it was that sense of peaceful melancholy. maybe it was because i could see so much on the horizon, so many mysteries around me, that i just had to be able to reach someday. in such a massive open world in which the plot wasn’t spoonfed to me but i had to discover it, my interest had been piqued.

or maybe it was because i was bored and depressed. i was close to the end of freshman year in high school, which had been pure misery. difficult to understate just how awful life was for me during that point in time (but it was just the terrifying cocoon stage of becoming a butterfly). so yeah, why not pick up a new piece of media? why not dive into this world? i think we all know just how powerful it is to develop a new interest when going through a rough patch- it can turn absolutely everything around. (even if it ends up distracting you from the work you need to do lol. but in my case i consider that a necessary tradeoff for giving me the serotonin my brain doesn't naturally produce enough of)

and i think there's something to be said about the medium of a video game, which was basically new to me at the time- i think it's something about the ability to have control over what's happening. in tv shows things just happen. in real life i felt like i had no control over anything. so i was suddenly able to express myself in a way that i had never gotten to before, and it was powerful. especially in an open-world game with so much to do and discover. (something something the adhd-er's wild fantasy of being able to complete tasks and make progress).

i quickly became addicted- i could play for hours on end and barely put a dent in the smallest section of the map. i couldn't believe how genuinely massive the world was and i just wanted to explore more and more, but without skipping anything i came across. i still remember in my mind exactly where i was in my house when reaching many of those early-game checkpoint places, curled up in a chair in the corner, listening to my mom make dinner in the other room... etc. the definition of nostalgia. (which is something i only have so much of given how most of my interests i didn't get into until significantly later in life. i was 15 when this was happening whereas most people's childhood nostalgia type stories are from when they were like 5 to 8. but this was such a foundational time in my life y'know?)

i remember hours of getting lost in the wilderness (i truly had the worst habit of either not getting the maps or not heeding them) and never going on the clearly marked roads bc i was convinced i could take a shortcut by just taking a straight line to my destination. which often involved attempting to scale a ridiculously steep and tall mountain with like one and a half wheels of stamina. live and learn, right?

i remember the way it took absolutely forever to reach zora's domain (the fact that i didn't get the tower map beforehand probably significantly contributed to that) so the absolute joy and relief i felt when i got there and was safe at last. i adore all the champions so much but mipha is for sure the one that messes up my heart the most to this day, as both the first one i got and the one with objectively the most emotional story. something about water levels has always unsettled me- no matter what, to me they're always associated with being cold, wet, and uncomfortable, even if it's supposed to be beautiful (and vah ruta sure wasn't meant to be for obvious reasons). especially if the player has to swim- whether there's limited breath or not, i can't help but imagine how stressful it would be to dive deep and be under pressure like that. but on the flip side, once you're finally done with those levels and back on dry land, it feels comforting. warm, dry and stable again- sort of like how you feel after you're finished crying. you had to endure the drowning and the suffering and now you're safe. that's how the vah ruta quest feels to me.

each new ruin, or quiet little settlement, really just lodged its way into my heart, but i think the location that makes me the most emotional is the flight range- its beautiful broken melody, the howling wind and snow, its position in the middle of the wilderness like a little safe haven in the mountains, the faint memory of revali... i used to just go there and sit for hours. it's just gorgeous and it hits so hard. once again, it's all about that quiet, solemn peace after a tragedy has occurred- the sadness lingers, but you learn to live again. botw just excels at this in pretty much every aspect, enough said

which comes to the central conflict of the premise- our titular heroine, zelda, and her struggles to complete her duty, her guilt complex, the pressure and loneliness she felt, etc. i have identified so closely with her for the entire time i've known her. (done a fair amount of projecting too but listen. listen) the way she felt weak and powerless and just wanted to find a way to make people happy, especially her overbearing father who didn't care enough for her happiness... that hit so hard as an emotionally volatile teenager with similar issues. to this day my dad only talks to me to nag me about something important i need to do but he's never cared about my personal interests. he acts more like my manager than my parent. throughout high school especially i just kept falling back to zelda's story every time my dad was being awful and i needed to escape him, listening to him call me lazy, behind the ball, etc when i was clearly going through severe depression that would have never even occurred to him. and while unlike zelda i still have my mom she's always been incredibly emotionally distant so there was no looking to her either. i blamed myself for everything that went wrong even though i never could've done anything without the kind of help i needed, similar to zelda

for me personally the theme of failing to succeed in the role other people were pressuring her into resonated with me and my undiagnosed... whatever it is. i am positive i am not neurotypical. i've always more or less self-identified as adhd (my parents would laugh if i suggested that) and i've never received support or treatment or anything. that plus the undiagnosed and untreated depression. the way zelda just couldn't do something that she had no idea how to even begin trying to do, the way going through the rituals that worked for other people did nothing for her... that hit hard as someone just barely trying to stay alive in high school, who always felt alienated from others and never could understand exactly why, who was bad at a lot of things... but my dad only cared about results

and in turn. the emotional catharsis of her finally unlocking the latent power she'd been struggling to reach inside her. it's never been established exactly what it was that was wrong with her that prevented her from unlocking it but i think we all know it had something to do with her heart not being free until the moment she had the courage to do something brave, dangerous, and important through her own free will- going against the grain, standing up for someone she loved, etc. that's an essay for another time tho. to me that's what makes it so powerful- yeah this (back)story is still a tragedy, but there's hope. she found her own path. she still had to undergo lots of suffering afterwards but she had what she needed to succeed. and she got her happy ending in the end. i probably don't need to explain why that's so meaningful to me as someone who loves her so much and relates too hard. also her dad died (i am NOT wishing that upon my dad to be clear). i mean for her that's a bad thing bc he did regret his actions and never get to apologize to her and she wishes she had gotten to see him again but also that's in the fantasy world where one could reasonably expect their father to change. i've kind of given up on that but maybe someday after we've gotten some distance... idk

in short. botw hits me like a truck with the way it brings you so, so low, in the pits of despair, and then brings you back up. not everything is fixed and perfect at the end, the characters who died stay dead, but they finally get to pass on and rest in peace. we free zelda. we bring back the most significant parts of link's memory. we watch the broken and scattered world begin to grow and breathe again. perfectly cathartic and hopeful and powerful for someone going through such awful things. i'm not out of the woods yet with all my ten thousand problems but i'm in a much better place now. i've typed way too many words here and it's still like not enough to express just how much this game means to me. i could go on forever and ever about the things i find objectively good about this game but this ramble was meant to focus on the subjective meanings i've found within it. breath of the wild has been nothing short of a blessing for me. thank you nintendo, truly.

#peach rambles #breath of the wild #botw #this is very long but if you're interested in my character lore and backstory

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twicelivedsummer · 1 year

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finding/inventing Dothraki personalities: Rakharo

compilation ; Aggo ; Jhogo ; Rakharo ; Irri ; Jhiqui

I’m making a little series where I stare at everything the main Dothraki characters do and try to discern personality traits. The purpose of this is sort of “if you were to write a fanfic that actually fleshed out their characters, what’s a starting point? what is there, that we might not destroy in trying to build something larger?” It is not to claim that GRRM, um, wrote these characters well. But I do dislike rounding down to zero when it’s not literally zero.

For example, Rakharo. I have adopted Rakharo as my favourite of Dany’s bloodriders, and the reason is literally these three lines:

"An hour past midnight should be time enough." "Yes, Khaleesi," said Rakharo. "Time for what?" [belwas] "Why that one, Khaleesi?" Rakharo demanded of her. "He is fat and stupid." "I will not march." "What will you do then, Khaleesi?" asked Rakharo.

They all disagree with her at various times, but Rakharo here is going a step past that to question her: ask why would you choose this, what do your decisions mean? It’s like a first step to learning from her, and on toward thinking for himself. (NB: this does not happen.)

"You are khaleesi," Rakharo said, taking the arakh. "I shall ride at your side to Vaes Dothrak beneath the Mother of Mountains, and keep you safe from harm until you take your place with the crones of the dosh khaleen. No more can I promise."

When Daenerys asks them to become her bloodriders, Jhogo and Aggo just answer the question; Rakharo thinks past that and presents a sort-of compromise: well, here’s what I can do.

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. ... Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom.

Agriculture is not a traditional occupation of Dothraki men, so arguably she assigned this task to Rakharo’s leadership because he was least likely to balk at breaking tradition for the sake of long-term benefits

"We have seen only the parts of Qarth that Pyat Pree wished us to see," she went on. "Rakharo, go forth and look on the rest, and tell me what you find. Take good men with you—and women, to go places where men are forbidden." "As you say, I do, blood of my blood," said Rakharo.

[waggles hand] it’s, um, it’s being tasked with questioning prepackaged narratives, and, also involving women, in, so, that's,why she delegated this to him not Aggo or Jhogo?

Another lost a hand to Rakharo's arakh and rode off reeling and spurting blood. ... When Rakharo put an arrow through his mouth, the slaves holding his sedan chair broke and ran,

Rakharo switched weapons in the middle of their battle to adapt his tactics to the situation, this is normal IRL but I literally got out my paper copy of Storm to check it wasn't meant to be Aggo lol.

"When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi," Ko Jhogo said. Her other bloodriders concurred. "Blood of my blood," said Rakharo, "when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known."

Deeply splitting hairs here, but he does give more considerations than Jhogo? The food's important.

When Drogo’s khalasar dissolves, Rakharo describes the events to Daenerys and then adds “It is the right of the strong to take from the weak”: a typical Dothraki opinion, but it's expressed as a slightly more abstract or philosophical stance. (Contrast Jhogo, who puts it as "A khal who cannot ride is no khal" which contains the same idea but keeps to concrete actions.)

She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono's khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver's Bay.

Riders have been seen beyond the Skahazadhan. Dothraki scouts, Rakharo says, with a khalasar behind them.

He can even geography/political analysis, sort of? If I were fanficcing I would have him do more of this and get better at it over time. For example, were I also not changing their weapons, I would have him ponder the length of the supply chains involved in mining and refining the metal ores to make the iconic Dothraki arakh. GRRM... never discusses how they make those and also never suggests why Rakharo gets it.

But if we are making fanfic where Rakharo is the smarter more philosophical one, there's a good reason to keep him with the most iconically Dothraki weapon: because we shouldn't imply. ..thinking... is alien to the culture.

We should keep that Rakharo is successful and appealing as a Dothraki.

Quaro liked his sausage so well he decided to have another one, and Rakharo had to outdo him and eat three more, belching loudly.

Keep that he's also casually competitive and (??) one of the lads,

"You are too skinny for him," Jhiqui was saying. "You are almost a boy. Rakharo does not bed with boys. This is known." Irri bristled back. "It is known that you are almost a cow. Rakharo does not bed with cows." Rakharo had grown almost half a foot during his time away from Meereen and returned with arms and legs thick with muscle and four bells in his hair. He towered over Aggo and Jhogo now, as her handmaids had both noticed.

and attractive, by Dothraki standards. He’s not disqualified from that by “actually thinking about things”. I want to make him out to be strategic and philosophical in a Dothraki way, as part of their culture and not alien to it.

#Dothraki #Rakharo #ASoIaF #valyrianscrolls #mine: text

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kokinu09 · 7 months

Text

Fake Love

Inspiration :

For you, I could pretend like I was happy when I was sad

For you, I could pretend like I was strong when I was hurt

I wish love was perfect as love itself

I wish all my weaknesses could be hidden

I grew a flower that can’t be bloomed in a dream that can’t come true

—BTS, Fake Love (English Translation)

💥Trigger Warning : Toxic Exes, breakup over the phone, implied friends to lovers, gay panic moment, MinSung (Minho x Jisung)

Word count : 2,347

AO3

A/N : This was intended to be a short little prompt and it obviously got away from me! 🤗 Originally supposed to be for @rainfallingfromthesky but the MinSung makes me think @keepswingin will be a fan. 😂 Hope you enjoy it!~

~*~

“It’s just not working out,” Jisung tells her gently, phone pressed to his ear, bracing for the inevitable argument.

“Wait, what?! You’re breaking up with me?!” She exclaims through the line.

“Yeah… I’m sorry…” he apologizes as sincerely as he can muster. But he’s not really sorry.

This girl has been doing nothing but ask him for money or to buy her things all week! Most of the time, she doesn’t even respond to his texts! It’s too obvious that she doesn’t and hasn’t even cared about him or his feelings for the past four months. So he’s decided now is as good a time as ever to let her go. Cut his losses and move on.

The laugh he hears in response is sarcastic at best before she switches to an overly sweet coo. “You don’t wanna break up with me! Come on, Ji baby! Why don’t we go out to a nice restaurant and talk about this!”

Usually, he’d feel bad for handling a breakup over the phone instead of in person, but he’s so glad he did in this case. The way his eyes roll to the back of his skull in annoyance at the suggestion would have definitely offended her worse. He’s struggling enough just trying to keep his breathing even and not letting out any noises of frustration. Maybe he should have just texted her at this point.

“No, no. There’s no reason to draw this out,” he says, hearing a ‘but’ as he goes on to keep her from interrupting. “It’s been fun but I don’t think we’re good for each other. It’d just be best for both of us to go our separate ways.” He rushes out and crosses his fingers that she won’t make this harder than it needs to be.

On the other end, he heard her scoff. “Really, wow. I guess the rumors really were true. Do you think you’re better than everyone else, Han Jisung? ‘Cause I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you’re not all that.” She sneers. “It was embarrassing hearing about you from all my friends. Seeing all those videos of you having a panic attack walking through the airport. What kind of Idol gets anxiety from just getting on a plane!” She laughs cruelly.

“Ouch, okay then. I see what this really meant to you,” Jisung snaps back angrily, not that this was any news to him.

He already knew she was only into him for his money but his heart still hurts that he still hasn’t been able to find someone who likes him for him. Whether he had money and fame or not.

“You won’t have to worry about me ‘embarrassing you’ anymore. It’s over.” His tone burns with anger as the words leave his lips. Sharp-edged, firm and indisputable. No room for argument.

“Fine!” She huffs in arrogant annoyance. “You’ll be back.” She adds he can hear the cocky smirk she must be wearing as she says it.

Breathing a laugh, “Doubtful,” he says, ending the call before he can waste another second on their pointless relationship.

Jisung sighs as he drops his phone to the mattress, pressing the heels of his hands against his eye sockets. He’s exhausted. It’s been the same thing over and over again since he’s tried dating.

He hates it. He can’t tell who genuinely cares about him or who’s only out for themselves. It always starts off great and they seem so sweet and affectionate. Then, at some point along the way, it just flips and they’re flirting with the other members or only giving him attention when they want something.

His mind is a mess, thoughts racing in the worst possible directions. From the self-conscious worry of ‘Is it him?’ ‘Is he the reason it never works out?’ To the despair of ‘he’ll be alone forever.’ ‘He’ll never find someone who truly loves him.’

The buzz of his phone beside him pulls his brain out of its spiraling. He glances at the back of it, debating if he dare flip it over and see who was messaging him. It was probably her, continuing the arguments or pleading for another chance.

It’s always the same.

With a resigned huff, he grabs his phone more aggressively than was probably necessary as he flips the screen to see the notification. The tension in his brow immediately eases, sighing out a relieved breath at seeing it in fact wasn’t a text from ‘Little Miss Gold Digger’ but instead was from Minho. A pointless text about his meal, complete with a picture of proof. Too zoomed in to really tell if it looks good or not.

Even still. No matter how mundane the topic is, Jisung finds that he’s never annoyed by his best friend’s messages. He actually looks forward to them. They make him feel normal for once.

He closes his eyes as his head tilts back with a smile spreading across his lips. A feeling of deep gratitude replacing all the negativity that had filled his chest. Thankful that he’s not truly alone. He has Minho and the rest of his members going through it with him. The few people who understand everything he’s going through. Minho, the one who knows him better than anyone else in the world. Who he can turn to with his struggles without worry of judgment.

He’s already pressed the call button before even giving it a second thought. And Minho doesn’t disappoint, answering on the first ring.

“Ah, my dinner looked too delicious for you to resist, huh Jagiya?” He laughs, the infectious sound tugging at the corners of Jisung’s lips.

“Yeah right, I couldn’t even tell what you were having, hyung,” he replies with a chuckle that quickly dies with his sunken mood. “But uh, would it be ok if I come by your dorm tonight?”

There’s a pause from the other end of the line.

“Of course you can,” he says easily before asking, “Is something wrong, Hannie?”

Jisung cringes at the question because he can’t be honest and just say ‘everything is wrong actually.’ Minho would worry about him. And Jisung already felt like too much of a burden by asking to come over.

So he’ll lie to ease it a little bit.

“Everything’s fine, hyung. I just, don’t wanna be alone right now,” but he can’t stop the honesty that slips out. Minho was good for that. No matter how much Jisung wants to hide the truth, it always comes out around him.

“Come over, Hannie. We can talk if you want after we watch a few episodes together,” Minho offers, a gentle undertone to his voice. Understanding and willing to listen. When he’s ready, of course.

~*~

Two episodes quickly snowballs into five as it often did when Minho and Jisung binge-watch a show together. The TV is switched off when Minho finally decides it’s getting a little late.

Jisung uncurls himself from around the dancer with a stretch and yawn. Another habit the two have adopted over the years of watching anime together. Slowly migrating across the couch or mattress until they are huddled up to each other for warm, comfy cuddles.

It’s never been something they’ve thought about much. They enjoyed the skinship and didn’t question it further than that.

“I guess I could go back to the other dorms now,” Jisung sighs, shoving his palms against the cushions to push himself up.

“Hold on, Hannie. We’re not done here yet,” Minho says, grabbing his wrist to yank him back down on the couch. Jisung chuckles but doesn’t put up much of a fight as he relaxes back into his seat.

“What are you talking about, Weirdo? You’re the one who turned the show off!” He retorts playfully. But Minho turns his whole body to face him, giving his undivided attention.

“Don’t you wanna talk about what was bothering you earlier?” He asks, tilting his head as his elbow props it up on the back of the sofa.

Jisung stiffens.

He’d almost forgotten. But everything comes flooding back to the forefront of his mind. The struggle, the longing, the loneliness. He’d almost forgotten of that in the few hours he spent with Minho.

But it will inevitably all come back when he leaves again. Searching for the person who will fill the cracks left in his heart.

How was he even supposed to explain that?

The rapper lets out a heavy sigh, eyes fixed on the way his fingers pick at a frayed string on his jeans. “I broke up with that girl I was seeing. You know, the blonde one?”

Minho hums. “Good, I didn’t like her anyway.”

“Huh?!” Jisung shrieks. “Why didn’t you say anything for the last four months?!” But Minho just shrugs.

“She wasn’t butting into my Hannie time too much.” Then he pauses, dramatically tapping his chin in thought. “To be honest, I kinda forgot she existed half the time.”

That makes Jisung chuckle almost humorlessly. “Yeah me too,” he sighs. “The only reason she liked me was the fame and money. When I told her I was done, she even made fun of me for my anxiety. She didn’t care about me, she never did.” His words quiet and fragile as they left his mouth. The unspoken worry of ‘Will anyone ever love me?’ lingering in the air.

“Well that’s her loss.” Minho says firmly, and Jisung sees the anger burning behind his eyes when he looks back at him. “And if she really can’t understand that your anxiety is not a choice, then she didn’t deserve you in the first place.”

If he thought about it, looking close enough, he could swear he saw smoke coming out of Minho’s nostrils with how angry he seems. It sends a wave of warmth spreading through his chest as a quiet chuckle bubbles out. “Of course you think that, you’re my overprotective best friend!”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, his eyes seeming to search his for something he can’t quite place. But his gut flips with a nervousness he’s not used to with his best friend. Then Minho sighs softly in resignation as he leans back, breaking the tension strung tightly between them.

“No, Hannie, I mean it. You deserve the world from whoever you choose to be with.” He corrects but Jisung furrows his brows as a pout scrunches his face.

“Ok, sure. Whatever you say,” he grumbles. “I haven’t found anyone even remotely close to treating me like that so far.” He lets out his own deep sigh. “I want to find the real thing but it’s so hard. Everyone’s a fan but for all the wrong reasons. I’m so sick of this fake love.”

“Then stop looking out there and look around instead.”

Jisung’s head snaps up to look at the older boy across from him. Minho holds his gaze, intently watching for his reaction. Does he mean what he thinks he means? And why has his stomach erupted into a fit of butterflies?

“Wh-what are you talking about, hyung! Don’t say weird stuff!” Jisung laughs nervously, trying to play it off as if his brain wasn’t suddenly speeding at a million miles an hour. As if his heart wasn’t racing with a mix of panic and giddiness.

Minho’s eyes crinkle in the corners as a smirk forms on his lips. “There’s nothing weird about being honest about how you feel!” He teases lightly, clearly enjoying Jisung’s squirming and flushed cheeks.

The younger makes an embarrassed noise, covering his face with his hands to hide the darkening shade of red. “Ah! You’re just messing with me!”

Warm, gentle fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull his hand away. Jisung’s wide eyes lift to look at him. “I’m not.” He replies with a softened smile, his hand keeping contact with the skin of his wrist.

The look in his eyes made his spine tingle and his heart flutter. It dawns on him that he hopes it’s true. Hopes that Minho feels something stronger than friendship towards him. His stomach does a somersault at the prospect.

When did the feelings for his best friend grow past admiration into this deep fondness? And why has he never noticed it happening?

He isn’t sure how long he sat there trying to wrack his brain for an answer before Minho’s chuckle snaps him out of his own head. “You’re overthinking it, Sungie.”

He wasn’t wrong, but how could he not?! This is his best friend! What if they try to make something work between them and then it ruins what they already have?!

Minho’s grip on his wrist squeezes lightly, pulling him out of his thoughts again. A soft smile is there waiting for him.

“I don’t need you to say anything right now. Just, think about it, ok?” The dancer requests, eyes pleading.

Jisung wants to tell him how he feels. But how can he do that when he hasn’t even sorted through his feelings himself? So he gulps down the lump in his throat and nods, trying to portray his sincerity through their held gaze.

The way Minho’s eyes crinkle happily again makes Jisung relax, his chest filling with warmth. “Good, now come here, Sungie. One more episode won’t hurt, right?” He readjusts with his arms open, welcoming the other boy in for cuddles again.

Jisung laughs under his breath but doesn’t argue, scooting closer and tucking himself against Minho’s side like he always does. Minho’s arm tightens around his shoulders before relaxing, rubbing his back comfortingly.

As the episode starts up, Jisung finds himself letting out a content sigh, snuggling deeper into Minho’s chest. He doesn’t have to overthink this. This is his comfort place. And Minho can read him without him saying a word. Complicated wasn’t a thing between them. They’ll figure out what they want in due time and everything will be fine. He’s sure of it.

And even though he feels like he’s been through hell trying to get here, maybe he’s finally found a safe place to keep his heart.

#stray kids fic #minsung #minho x jisung #lee know x han #lee know #han jisung #skz fic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #kokinu09 writes

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cienie-isengardu · 8 months

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Would you go into detail about any ideas you have with Scorpion!Kuai Laing and how it could have been handled better

Sure, the best way to handle it would be to let Hanzo Hasashi be the Scorpion and Kuai Liang the cryomancer as they were destined to be because at this point it seems the game didn’t just switched the ice for fire power of his but are robbing both Hanzo and Kuai Liang at the same time: Hanzo, because he was stripped again from his family (and I’m saying it fully wishing to see Harumi as her own character in future games) and sidelined for obscure reference in certain endings and intro dialogues (if lucky, maybe he will introduced in next game) while Kuai Liang is turned into someone he was not - and yes, I always saw him as aro-ace character who himself said to not have time for socializing and was a single for three decades and doing fine with his life but now is thrown into marriage with Harumi who was originally Hanzo’s wife and all the romantic nonsense he did not bothered, seek or care much before. But more than that, Kuai Liang’s previous character development was thrown out of the window and he as the MK!1 Scorpion right away ended as the “final product”, the good, honorable Grandmaster. In past the road to that point demanded from him to face a lot hard truth about Lin Kuei, to deal with his guilt, trauma and grief after losing brother and Smoke, making hard choices like choosing peace with murdered of his brother for benefit of Lin Kuei, Shirai Ryu and Earthrealm instead of seeking revenge. Kuai Liang was a good man in general, no doubt about that, but the wise, honorable sage and loyal Earthrealm Defender came with time, here Scorpion is just, well, he is, not really Hanzo and not really Kuai Liang, something between. He is angry, but does not have the burning anger of Hanzo Hasashi that blinds him to the point other characters (Quan Chi and Kronika) easily manipulate and exploit him. He cares for Bi-Han, but doesn’t seem to have Kuai Liang’s dedication to save/redeem him, like previous versions had for the Noob Saibot, corrupted by dark magic Bi-Han’s soul. Of course, Mortal Kombat 1 is just a new way into the rebooted timeline and only time shows us in what direction the NRS plan to take Scorpion - or Bi-Han and Hanzo for that matter.

But since the game did what it did, my main idea (complain) what could be done better is an actual effort to build the sense of brotherhood between the brothers before the events separated them for good. I don’t mind that Bi-Han was abrasive toward most characters as he quite often was portrayed like that and so were other cryomancers at times. But his betrayal - and Scorpion’s reaction - would have bigger impact if the sibling bond was more flashed out before the tragedy happened (though I would argue with the spreading idea between fans that Bi-Han always acted like the worst jerk toward poor baby Tomas, as what story showed us is the “frustrated Bi-Han” and he snipped at both brothers whenever they mentioned father, while still included Tomas in either taking Smoke to meet Liu Kang and on mission or in his worries [“Are you both unharmed?”], and did not correct Liu Kang in their intro dialogue when Fire Gods specifically said “your brothers” miss him. The conflict and disdain seems to be aimed mainly at Lin Kuei status and/or bloodline however I don’t think we have yet enough idea how Lin Kuei now operate and how they managed switch some much from everyone worth is welcome in previous Lin Kuei to apparently just bloodline matters). Of course, I’m aware the brotherhood would be a hard thing to flesh out with such limited screen time as the story was divided between a quite big cast, however as Johnny and Kenshi proved, the game could and did create the feeling of true comradeship between characters who too were sidelined in later chapters. So I think the best solution would be either leave Bi-Han’s betrayal for the latest part of the story or, alternatively, let Bi-Han’s die, maybe even to make sure his brothers get away, and then bring him as Noob Saibot, giving us both the evil Sub-Zero the game aimed for and Kuai Liang’s more classical grief over killed family and the conflict with corrupted, undead version of Bi-Han. What I think would work nicely through the future games without making still alive Bi-Han a weird mix of Noob and Frost and would not hurt so much compared to what Mileena, Baraka and Reptile got in contrast to Lin Kuei brothers.

Thinking more about it, the game could actually use Kuai Liang’s father in more direct way, as part of Lin Kuei team on mission so Bi-Han, if truly needed to end as betrayer, could let him die during an actual story mode with the future games/lore focusing on Kuai Liang (Scorpion)’s burning anger and desire for justice/revenge - but I’m aware that would be even more complicated to fit into limited story time.

The other thing I think would be much truer to Kuai Liang’s original character is him to fight for control over Lin Kuei to actually uphold traditions he was so devoted to than creating a different clan. Scorpion’s decision of course makes sense within the story but Kuai Liang’s loyalty was always to Lin Kuei first and foremost and if younger Sub-Zero in previous timeline(s) needed to destroy it to reform the clan for more honorable ways, he would do so. Kuai Liang mentioned Cyrax and Sektor’s loyalty to Bi-Han is absolute, but thinking logically, he could have a more blood-related family interested in the fate of their relative that could support his claim to title. In result, Bi-Han could be on the run, maybe with the hard-die followers making Scorpion’s intro dialogues about seeking /hunting brother accurate too.

In general, I won’t say that MK1!Scorpion is a bad or boring character, because he isn’t, but what he could use - the same as the rest Lin Kuei - is a better flashed out relationship that would give him a chance to grow alongside the story. The game keeps mentioning he and Bi-Han are brothers, but we barely see any of that close bond (Scorpion and Smoke understandably look better in that matter as they were meant to contrast the relationship with much colder and ambitious Bi-Han, but Smoke is pretty much pushed to sidelines for majority of game, the same as Sub-Zero). The intro dialogues and character endings imply romantic relationship (future marriage) but again, we are told about that and not really shown or allowed to see how it develops - and yes, I’m irked about this romantic addition that pushes Kuai Liang into Hanzo’s original role (and why push Harumi straight into marriage either? Why not introduce her and allow her to grow into her own person before marrying her off?). Which I think is part of the problem, as Mortal Kombat games don't dwell much into “daily” life of characters as we usually jump from one crisis to another fight and probably TV series or well written comics would do better justice for that sort of thing.

Don’t know if my ideas would handle better MK!1 Scorpion, beside maybe letting Hanzo have this mantle. I do however think it would be pretty cool if Kuai Liang got some character flaws to overcome, the same as Bi-Han got his arrogance and ambitions. Like I said, this Kuai Liang is not a bad character but he is the designated “good brother” and the perfect fighter, grandmaster, follower of Liu Kang and some flaws to balance his otherwise ideal portrayal would do some good. Hanzo had his serious anger and trust issues, Kuai Liang’s rocky relationship with authority and yes, some of those traits are implied here and there with MK1!Scorpion but so far does not play any vital role (the way he was ready to smack already laying on ground Bi-Han again with his shackles is so far the most visible anger fit he showed, but that is a pale imitation to what Hanzo Hasashi was capable of. Similarly his concern/doubts about Liu Kang stated in intro dialogues are not even close to Kuai Liang’s accusation and questioning of Raiden or other gods’ authority).

#mortal kombat #my replies #kuai liang #scorpion #bi han #sub zero #to be honest both brothers could be handle better if story mode allowed us to see their brotherhood at the best before the worst happened #also the coward should give scorpion!kuai liang some flaws to balance the general good nature

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