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itadorey · 8 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: geto suguru x gn!reader summary: geto doesn't know if you've been looking for him or not, but he does know that he can't look you in the eyes after your last mission together. genre: friends to lovers, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort notes: reader lights a cigarette, doesn't actually smoke it. reader was previously injured on a mission (description of the incident), no actual timeline fit but kind of an au in my head where geto stays at tokyo jujutsu high wc: ~3.2k

Geto pauses when he walks through the entrance to the school grounds, stopping in his tracks when he sees you sitting on the front steps of the dorms.

He's silent as he observes you, one of your legs bent at the knee while the other remains stretched out, your body twisted slightly as one of your elbows rests on the step behind you. Your head is ducked down slightly as you fiddle with something in your hands, and when you toss your head back in what he can only assume is boredom, he sees the cigarette dangling from the corner of your mouth.

Your head perks up when you hear his footsteps approaching, and you give him a lazy smile before straightening up, hunching over slightly before patting the empty space next to you. He does his best to avoid looking at your left arm, hanging limply in a sling because of him.

Because he wasn't strong enough to protect you, he reminds himself.

"Are you just gonna stand there looking constipated or what?" you asks, your smile widening as you take in his pinched expression. He looks uncomfortable, a pained frown on his face as he shifts his weight from one foot to another and looks around.

"Does Yaga know you snuck out of the infirmary?" he asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he kicks a stray rock. He ignores the way you giggle at his question, refusing to look at you even though that's the only thing he ever wants to do when you're around.

"I was released. Does he know you snuck out of the school?" you shoot back in response, eyebrow arching as you pat the space next to you once again. "C'mere, Suguru. You're acting weird."

Geto is stiff as he takes a seat next to you, leaving a ridiculous amount of space between the two of you as he brings his knees up to his chest. He tenses even more when you shuffle closer, and he resists the urge to flinch away when you fix him with an unreadable stare.

A faint clicking catches his attention, and he lets his gaze wander down to your hands. His eyebrows furrow when he sees the pink lighter held tightly between your fingers, your thumb playing with the spark wheel absentmindedly.

"Isn't that Shoko's?" he asks, recognizing the lighter as the one that always seemed to be lost. He thinks about the way Shoko always rummages through her bag, her voice tired and exasperated as she constantly asks her friends if they've seen it. His question earns a laugh from you, and you nudge him with your shoulder before replying.

"Yeah, and so is this."

He can't help the way his eyes immediately drift to your mouth, and he stares intently as you purse your lips to wiggle the cigarette in a teasing manner. He gives a half-hearted huff, eyes still burning into you as you raise the lighter to your face.

The lighter sparks to life at the first touch of your thumb, the soft, orange light of the flame dancing across your features as you bring it to the cigarette. You look ethereal, the shadows dancing across your face and highlighting the bridge of your nose, the curve of your lips, and the sly shine in your eyes as you cup it with your injured hand to shield it from the wind.

Geto feels his heart ache with want.

A hum of content leaves your lips when you see the end of the cigarette burning, and you tuck the lighter back into your pocket before turning to face Geto. His eyes are still fixed on you, eyes dropping down to your lips every few seconds before he suddenly leans forward.

You feel your breath stutter slightly at his close proximity, studying the slope of his nose and barely sparing a glimpse at his eyes before he presses even closer and your own eyes flutter shut. A moment of silence passes before you feel the cigarette being pulled out of your mouth, his fingertips brushing against your lips before they pull away.

It's embarrassing to admit that you're waiting for a kiss that never comes, so you awkwardly clear your throat and straighten up as you hear more than see the way Geto crushes the cigarette under his shoe. The same one that he had just pulled from your lips.

(You try to ignore the way you can still feel his touch, instead deciding to focus on the fact that you had just lit the cigarette up).

"Hey! I didn't even take a single drag!" you complain, lips pursed in a pout and eyebrows furrowed as you nudge him with your shoulder once again. There's a soft look in his eyes as he turns his head to look at you, and you find yourself softening slightly before you roll your eyes and lean away. "It took me forever to steal that from Shoko. She never lets those things out of her sight."

"They're bad for you," is all Geto murmurs in response, his foot still absently grinding down on the cigarette. You see the way his eyes flicker down to your arm, all softness in his gaze having been replaced by something akin to guilt. "You got enough problems as is. We don't need you having respiratory issues on top off everything else."

"It was one cigarette, Suguru," you argue, rolling your eyes before waving your arm around. "Besides, this is healed thanks to Shoko. In fact, hold on."

Geto watches as you remove the sling, tossing it behind you as you wave your arm once again.

"Put it back on," he says with a scowl, reaching behind you to grab the sling. The close proximity causes the both of you to freeze, and you stare into his dark eyes before turning away, refusing to have a repeat of the earlier incident. You feel Geto's hand cup your cheek, and your eyes slightly widen as he turns your head back to face him.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds before he lets the sling drop into your lap. Neither one of you backs away, and Geto's eyes drop to your lips when he sees your tongue darts out to wet them. He leans forward slightly, the hesitance in his eyes clearly visible as he stops himself mere inches away from your lips.

That same hesitance is nowhere to be found in you when you surge forward, your lips connecting with Geto's briefly before he jerks away from you. His hand separates from your cheek as you scramble backwards, your hands scraping against the stone of the steps as you try to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

"I-I," you stutter, clamping your mouth shut and shaking your head before stumbling to your feet. Your actions send the sling tumbling to the ground and you do your best to suppress the sob crawling up your throat as you look down at the ground. "I'm sorry."

Geto is still frozen in place, hand hanging limply in the air as he stares at the spot in front of him. There's a conflicted expression on his face as he turns to watch you, mouth parted slightly in surprise and eyes shining with a mix of elation and grief as he lets his hand fall back down to his side.

"I'm going to bed," you say, your voice much more composed than it had been mere seconds ago. You clasp your hands behind your back, nodding your head diplomatically and avoiding Geto's gaze as you turn around. "Good night, Geto."

It's the use of his last name that has Geto scrambling to his feet, so unused to the sound of his family name coming from your lips. (The same lips he's been aching to kiss for more than a year. The same lips he pulled away from no more than a minute ago.)

You do your best to ignore the approaching footsteps, hastily wiping away the stray tears falling from your eyes as you start walking faster. You flinch when you feel Geto's hand close around your wrist, gently tugging you back as his other hand comes to rest on your waist in an attempt to keep you in place.

Your free hand lands on his chest, and you briefly struggle against him before you manage to break away from his hold, stumbling back a few steps and giving him an undecipherable look.

"Don't," he mutters, shaking his head lightly when you give him a puzzled look. "Don't apologize. For kissing me."

"Why?" you ask quietly, your hands clenching as you make a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Why, Geto? I don't get it. You give me all these soft looks and tender smiles and give me signals that make me think you like me but whenever I try to take a step forward, you take five steps back."

Geto's heart aches in pain this time, and he breathes in shakily as he watches you blink back your tears desperately. Your shoulders slump as you run a hand through your hair, and your tone sounds defeated when you address him once more.

"If you don't like me, just tell me. But please don't keep making me think you do."

You raise your head to watch him silently, your face deceivingly calm as you nod and finally turn away.

"I couldn't protect you."

His words make you pause, and you turn back to face him with squinted eyed. He can see the way you softly shake your head, silently mouthing his words to yourself before straightening up and squaring your shoulders.

"What?"

"I couldn't protect you," Geto repeats, taking another step toward you. His face softens when you don't move away, and he takes that as an invitation to walk up to you. "This mission with Gojo, when you were trapped I was the first to arrive, but I couldn't help you. Gojo had to step in and save you."

He gets lost in thought as he thinks about the mission, down to the very moment he realized you were missing. One minute you were smiling prettily at him, your hand brushing against his as you shot a teasing remark at Gojo, never once looking away from Geto even as Gojo turned to give you a hurt look. The next, you were gone, Geto's hand unnaturally cold in your absence as Gojo scanned the area around them.

Loud calls of your name had escaped both of their lips as they checked the neighboring rooms, eyebrows pinched together in worry as they heard no response back from you. A minute of silence had passed before they heard a sharp shriek, and they had exchanged panicked looks as your screams rang out.

Gojo's entire body had tensed while Geto's hands started shaking, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to pinpoint where your voice was coming from. He had shot off like a bullet, Gojo hot on his heels as he sprinted through the halls. It was easy for him to track down your voice, and he had burst through the door of a room at the end of a hall to find you suspended in the air, a humanoid hand tightened around your neck as the curse they were hunting held you tightly.

It was hard to ignore the way your left arm hung limply at your side, your elbow twisted at an unnatural angle as it swayed ever so slightly. Your choked gasps filled the air as you fought against the curse, your right hand holding tight onto the curse's arm as you channeled raw cursed energy in order to injure it.

Geto's brief moment of stillness, his eyes darting around as he assessed the best way to deal with the situation, had allowed the curse to dig its nails into your throat, causing weak rivulets of blood to stream from the small cuts it left. That brief moment of hesitation had allowed Gojo to come in, easily separating the curse from you and grabbing you before you fell to the ground.

"Make sure it's dead," Gojo had said, motioning towards the curse with his head. "They need to get to Shoko immediately."

Geto had wasted no time in making sure the curse was dead, his footsteps heavy as he immediately followed after you and Gojo. The last thing he remembered was not being allowed into the infirmary, with Gojo and Yaga holding him back as they told him to let Shoko help you. To let Shoko heal you.

That had been mere hours ago.

In the hours that followed, you had been healed and released from the infirmary, fretted over by Gojo, and searching nonstop for Geto. Geto had instead shouldered past Gojo and Yaga, ignored all their calls and questions, and left the campus as fast as he could, hoping that putting distance between you and him would help divert his thoughts.

It didn't.

All he could think about was the way you looked in the curse's grip, feet dangling and eyes wide and panicked as you did your best to survive. He had flinched when he felt his nails digging into his palms, and he had let out a sigh before running his finger through his hair, ruining his bun in the process.

How could he proudly call himself a jujutsu sorcerer if he hadn't even been able to protect the person he cared about.

"Geto?"

The soft murmur of his name draws him back to the present, to this moment where you're healthy and breathing and alive and standing right in front of him, giving him a concerned look. You hand (the left one, he notes silently) is halfway raised, fingers moving slightly as if to rest on his arm. There's hesitation on your face and Geto watches quietly as you let your arm fell back down to your side instead.

His hand darts out to grab yours before it fully lowers, pulling it up and pressing his hand to yours. His gaze is still lowered, and he presses his hand closer to your urgently, palm to palm and fingers lining up before he decides to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull you close.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as he pulls you into him, hands still intertwined as his other arm comes to wrap around you, pressing your head to his chest as he wonders if you could feel how fast his heart is beating.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs, nose brushing against your hair as he whispers into your ear.

"Geto, what do y—"

"You should be with someone like Gojo," he says, interrupting your words and refusing to let you go. "Someone strong enough to protect you in the way I couldn't. I'm not even strong enough to protect the person I love."

"Geto," you begin, your voice small and shaky as you use your free hand to push yourself slightly away from him. He's still holding you to his chest, his hand flat and warm against your back while the other is still enclosed around your own. "Did you mean that?"

"What?" he asks dumbly, confusion glinting in his eyes as he looks at you questioningly.

"What you just said," you explain, your fingers digging into his shirt as you look at him imploringly. "You said 'I'm not even strong enough to protect the person I love'. Ge— Suguru, do you love me?"

A breathless chuckle leaves Geto's lips, and you can feel the way his fingers tense against your back as his eyes widen in realization. The use of his name, his first name, makes him feel a little woozy, and he lets his head drop to the curve of your neck when you make no move to pull away.

"I did say that, didn't I?" he asks rhetorically, exhaling deeply and causing a shiver to run down your spine when you feel his warm breath against your skin. The two of you stay wrapped up in each other for a minute, and you only move when you reach up with your free hand to toy with Geto's hair.

"You know," you begin, prompting Geto to raise his head when he hears the teasing tone in your voice. "Gojo's cute and strong and smart and all, but I'm more into the broody, mysterious, devastatingly handsome, deceivingly strong, cares-too-much-for-his-own-good type of guys."

"I'm not broody," Geto shoots back, his lips perked up in a half-smile as he sees the mirth dancing in your eyes.

"Who said I was talking about you?" you ask, your fingers weaving through the silky strands that tumble down his back. Geto chuckles at your words, pulling you back in closely to his chest as he studies you.

"Just a hunch," he whispers, squeezing your hand to get you to look up at him. The two of you stare at each other for what seems like hours, and it isn't until your gaze hardens that his smile falls.

"Suguru," you start, pausing and resting your head in the crook of his neck, much like he had done to you earlier. He finally lets go of your hand, raising it up to join your other around his neck before letting his own settle around your waist. The embrace feels a lot more intimate, minimal space between the two of you as clasp your hands together behind his neck and pull yourself closer to him. "You are strong, y'know? You're a special grade sorcerer for a reason."

Your words are hushed and whispered against his neck, and you can barely feel him shake his head before he goes to speak.

"You saved me," you say, cutting him off before he can even begin to talk down on himself. "You are the one who located me. You led both yourself and Gojo to the room I was in and that's the only reason I didn't get fatally injured. It may sound mean, but I don't think Gojo's could've pinpointed where the sound of my voice was coming from. Besides, I’m not stupid. I could see you looking for an opening to attack. Gojo just happened to step in before you could, without thinking I might add. You would’ve saved me regardless.”

You chuckle softly at your own words before raising your head, coming face to face with Geto's soft expression.

"If I have to hear the person I love talk badly about himself one more time, I might have to kick his ass," you tease, a pretty smile on your lips as you watch the way Geto's eyes widen at your words.

"You can try," Geto whispers back, his eyes narrowing slightly when he sees the way your gaze drifts to his lips. "I'm sure you'll succeed. I can't see him putting up much of a fight against someone as beautiful as you."

"Just shut up and kiss me," you grumble, half-laughing as you look at him with stars in your eyes.

And as you pull him down into a gentle kiss, Geto Suguru finally believes that everything might be okay.

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #geto imagine #getou imagine #suguru x reader #geto suguru imagine #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru fluff #geto imagines

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nouvellevqgue · 4 months

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IS IT TOO LATE NOW?

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: the slip up and the gossip was a problem enough, but what if the situation is more complicated than you imagine it would be? or is it?

warning: slight hate comments from internet, paparazzi, break ups, complicated storyline, timeline inaccuracies, not even me understand about what is happening here.

a/n: this ended up going a bit too short with too little drama, but anyway, i hope you all enjoyed it!

taglist: @ushygushybaby @iamahallucinationnn @1655clean

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

popcrave

popcrave singer y/n l/n is reportedly breaking up with actor louis partridge after a year of relationship. the sun reported that they were breaking up peacefully and still remain friends even after their lost of love relationship.

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username or full of gossips of annoying f1 fans

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⤷ username because he is

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TWITTER

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yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, louispartridge, and 432,618 others

yourusername watch me turn into a vampire in a matter of second

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username yeah bc you are the vampire

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⤷ username mind you both of them are successful and unlike you who just sit in your dad's basement eating chips

⤷ username easy no need to bomb them with truth

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f1wagsupdate

liked by username, maxverstappen1, and 78,622 others

f1wagsupdate charles leclerc and his girlfriend, is reportedly confirming their break-up in their recent photo taken around in his apartment in monaco today. according to the fans who saw them, they were taking a walk together towards the building before charles is accompany her to her place, which leading to the news of their break up.

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enews

liked by louispartridge, username, and 172,380 others

enews 🎺🎺🎺 LOVE IS IN THE AIR!!

singer y/n l/n is seen ‘so deeply in-love’ with her new boyfriend as they were kissing in the middle of the busy night street in italy. this also lead to their confirmation of the relationship between y/n and charles.

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charles_leclerc added to their story!

caption: is it too late to say you're mine now?

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 491,649 others

yourusername comfiest one to hold.

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charles_leclerc 😚😚😚

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comments on this post has been limited

yourusername added to their story!

caption: the photographer is my ra-men😋🍜

Y/N'S DIRECT MESSAGE

landonorris replied to your story!

: that is a bad one

yourusername

: i know but let me have this one in peace

landonorris

: simp

charles_leclerc added to their story!

caption: je vais t'aimer pour toujours mon petit chou🥬😚

CHARLES'S DIRECT MESSAGE

yourusername replied to your story!

: why r u calling me a cabbage?

charles_leclerc

: remind me of your green jacket

: looks something like a cabbage

yourusername

: why not something like brocolli or apple?

charles_leclerc

: mon brocoli? or ma pomme?

yourusername

: ma pomme is better

charles_leclerc

: you're still my favourite chou of all time❤️

yourusername

: my favourite chou is silly

: but i love you too💗🥹

: my frenchman<3

charles_leclerc

: say that word again or i'll block you

yourusername added to their story!

caption: ❤️

INTERVIEW WITH EMMA CHAMBERLAIN

#✶!#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x you #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #is this too long?#...or even too short for the ongoing drama

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tojjist · 4 months

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“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination.

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant.

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly.

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.”

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual, that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words.

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought.

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17.

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact.

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances.

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store.

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,” he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late.

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath.

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response.

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

544 notes · View notes

writingquestionsanswered · 8 months

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IDK how many people are running the account, but if you or a member of the team running the account has ADHD, do you have any tips for ADHD writers, particularly when trying to get WIPs done? Outlines don't work for me like 99% of the time ;_;

Tips for Writing with ADHD

Here's what works for me, but your mileage may vary...

1 - Know What Outline Works for You - You say outlines don't work for you 90% of the time, but what type of outline are you using? Many people hear the word "outline" and imagine an academic outline with roman numerals and bullet points, but that's not what most fiction writers mean when they talk about using an outline. For fiction writers, outlines can be anything from a beginning to end written summary, to a scene list, to a detailed timeline. My post How to Outline a Plot has some different things you can try. Ultimately, there's no right or wrong way to outline your story. Anything that works as a "road map" to guide you through your story can help.

2 - Pants When You've Got to Pants - Some writers are "pantsers" or in other words, they prefer not to go off an outline. Some don't even plan in advance. They "write by the seat of their pants" and let the story take them where it may. For some writers, it depends on the specific story they're working on. Some stories might require planning, others might work better if you pants them. What works for me is understanding my needs (what type of story I'll usually need to plan/outline ahead of time, and what type of story I can pants) and then planning/pantsing accordingly. If I spent time outlining a story that I could easily pants, it would definitely take the wind out of my writing sails.

3 - Schedule Your Writing Time... Sort Of... - For me, I can't just rely on myself to write when the mood strikes me. If I did that, I'd never get any writing done. So for me, it's important to have a dedicated writing time each day. That doesn't even have to mean my butt's in the chair writing from this time to this time, it just means I'll do my best to write during whatever span of time. So, let's say this week you're home every day from 2pm until 6pm and some of that time is free time. That's going to be a good time to write, so you could say you're going to sit down every day at 3pm to write. Or, you could do 10-minute writing springs every hour, or every other hour. Or you could say you'll write when the mood strikes you, but definitely from 5:30 to 6 if you didn't get it done earlier.

4 - Try Random Writing Sprints - Writing sprints in general can be a good way for people with ADHD to write. You can schedule them or you could do them when the mood strikes. Get a timer and set it to whatever works for you... 5-minutes, 10-minutes, 30-minutes, whatever. Then just set it and go when you have time. Even if you don't feel like writing, getting into that habit will make it easier to write as soon as the timer comes out.

5 - Don't Give Yourself a Hard Time - One of the most profound things I ever heard about writing resistance is that it's often the product of writing feeling stressful. In other words, the idea of writing causes you stress, so your brain says, "Avoid! Avoid!" and you sit down to write and nothing happens. One of the ways we make writing stressful for ourselves is by giving ourselves a hard time when we don't write or don't write as much as we wanted. So, just do the best you can and congratulate yourself on small victories. Find ways to make writing fun and relaxing rather than stressful and like a chore.

Bonus - Sometimes the problem isn't ADHD but something else. My post 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! has some other things to consider.

I hope that helps!

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 9 months

Text

Fixing Bad Dreams

masterlist

summary: without even realizing, you’ve been using your powers to turn butcher’s bad dreams into good ones.

pairing: billy butcher x female supe!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, talk of sex

timeline: set after season 3

gif source

When Butcher had realized you were a Supe, obviously his first thought was that he had to kill you. But he soon realized you weren’t like the others. Not in a “oh she’s still a good person” way, but in a “wow she’s fucking weak, she’s basically still human” way. It was true. Essentially all you could do was send telepathic messages to people. That was it. (You also had a slight healing factor, but even that wasn’t very strong.) You couldn’t read minds, you couldn’t move things with your mind, you were barely a Supe.

Or, maybe he was just trying to justify sleeping with you. Whether he’d admit it or not, he really liked sleeping with you. Not just the sex, he liked physically sleeping next to you. With you. He’d sleep best when it was next to you. He wouldn’t wake up in a cold sweat, he wouldn’t have nightmares about watching his wife die bloody.

Most of the time, you woke up before him. You’d find his shirt from the night before and put it on, along with your panties if you could find them. Although, Butcher tended to rip your more delicate ones.

As you tiptoed around the room looking for where he had thrown your underwear you heard him mumble something in his sleep. You hurried next to him, his brows furrowed as he clenched the sheets in tight fists.

You held his cheek, bent down, and kissed his forehead. That always calmed him right down, you didn’t know why. And it did just that; he unclenched his fists, unfurrowed his brows, and let out a soft breath of air.

You smiled at the thought. The great William Butcher like forehead kisses in his sleep. That’s what calmed him down.

He stirred awake shortly after, seeing you looking around the room still.

“Mornin’ love,” He yawned. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Good morning,” You smiled and walked over to him, taking a seat on the bed. “You sleep okay?” You ran a hand through his hair then down his cheek, stopping to bend down and kiss him sweetly.

“Great, love,” He smiled. “Was havin’ a bit of a nightmare but it turned into us making out in the office the other day.”

“Really?” You furrowed your brows a little.

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh…no reason,” You shook your head a little.

“So, what were you looking for?” He asked, intentionally changing the subject.

“Where the hell did you throw my panties last night?” You asked, turning to glance around the room. He reached under his pillow and pulled out what you’d been looking for.

“I may have hid ‘em so you’d make me breakfast without wearin’ ‘em,” He smirked.

“All you had to do was ask,” You smiled. You leaned down and kissed him again before you stood up. “Bacon and eggs ‘ll be ready in a few minutes, come meet me in the kitchen?”

“I’ll be right there.”

“You seem to be in a good mood this morning,” Butcher chuckled a few days later. You walked up to him cooking pancakes, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Smells amazing,” You hummed. You got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

As you sat down at the table you let out a soft laugh.

“Okay, seriously, why’re you in such a good mood?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You shrugged.

“Cause the A/C stopped working halfway through the night and we both lost a good two hours of sleep?” He raised a brow.

“Remember last summer? We went to that water park with Hughie and the others after the tests came back negative and you were cancer free?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He turned to look at you fully, suddenly very interested in each word you said.

“After the A/C went out I had the best, most intense dream about it! I mean, the smell of the chlorine in the wave pool, the sound of those birds that kept trying to take your fries, everything!”

“Huh…I’ll be fuckin’ damned,” Butcher mumbled, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“What?”

“Nothin’ love, I remember that day too.”

Grass so green it looked fake, the sky so blue and clouds so perfect it all looked like a Bob Ross painting. Birds chirped in the trees as Butcher dipped down and kissed you again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” He smiled. He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, under your floral dress.

A picnic in the park with William Butcher. A fucking dream come true.

The cruel sound of the alarm jolted you awake. Butcher stretched his arm out and over you, hitting the snooze button.

“Perfect fucking timing,” He grumbled. “I think I was about to get lucky.”

“Me too, actually,” You laughed a little. “Guess we’ll have to make it up to each other.”

“Hey, let’s eat breakfast outside,” Butcher suggested.

“You hate eating outside?” You laughed a little. You took a sip of your coffee as you watched Butcher cook breakfast.

“Don’t be silly! On occasion, picnics can be fun!”

“P-Picnics?” You furrowed your brows. “What gave you that idea?”

“Just a dream I had.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Were you putting thoughts in his head? Messing with his dreams enough that it influenced his life when he was awake? How else were you messing with his head?

“Earth to Y/n!” Butcher pulled you out of your head.

“Huh?”

“I said food’s ready. Now, c’mon, get off your ass and eat outside with me.”

“Okay,” You smiled, hiding how worried you actually were.

You followed him out to the balcony overlooking the busy city.

“So what was your dream?” He asked when you both sat down at the outside table.

“Wh-What dream?” You asked.

“Remember? We both woke up to the alarm, both said we were about to get lucky in our dreams, and then we had earth-shattering morning sex. So, what was your dream?”

“I- I don’t really remember it…now all I’m thinking about is the earth-shattering morning sex,” You smirked a little.

“Ah ha!” He matched your expression, but added a sense of pride. “That’s my job, love.”

“Butcher, we need to talk,” You said later that night. He was ready for bed and already under the covers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows knitted with concern.

“I- I don’t think I sh-should sleep with you anymore,” You replied, tears in your eyes.

“You’re breaking up with me? Why?”

“No! I- I fucking love you and that why I need to get as far away from you as fucking possible!”

“Y/n, you’re not makin’ any sense,” He got out of bed and walked up to you. You backed away from him, shaking your head.

“I- I’ve been- I think I’ve been messing with your h-head somehow,” You let the tears fall. “Not on purpose, I swear! But I- I’ve been controlling your dreams, so who knows how else I’ve been controlling you!”

“I know about the dreams.”

“What?”

“I figured it out a couple weeks ago. You were going into detail about a dream you had the night before, and it was the same dream I had.”

“Why didn’t you say something! Butcher I could be completely controlling you! You probably don’t even really want to fucking be here! Fuck!” You put your hands on your head.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to act how you’re acting right now. I knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, otherwise you wouldn’t have told me your dream.”

“B-But what if…”

“What if what, Y/n? You really think you could accidentally force me to love you?” He took a few steps closer to you, this time you didn’t back away. You nodded. “Alright, how ‘bout this. Right now, try your absolute hardest to make me do something.” He put his hands on your shoulders and touched his forehead to yours. “Go on, use your powers on me.”

“I’m trying!” You exclaimed. You really were, but he was right; you weren’t nearly strong enough to mind-control someone. You let out a breath of relief. “Fuck, that would’ve been a fucking nightmare!”

“Well, good thing that’s your specialty then, love. Turning nightmares into the best fuckin’ dreams I could ask for.”

“I love you, Butcher,” You smiled and he did the same.

“I love ya, too,” He mumbled as he kissed your lips.

#the boys #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #the boys fanfic #the boys fluff #billy butcher #billy butcher x you #the boys tv #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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indestinatus · 4 months

Text

The silent art of gif making

The gif above has 32 layers plus 6 that aren't shown because this is part of a larger edit. I wanted to share it to give everyone a glimpse of the art of gif making and how long it usually takes for me to make something like this. This one took me about an hour and a half but only because I couldn't get the shade of blue right.

I use Adobe Photoshop 2021 and my computer doesn't have a large memory space (I don't know what to call it) so usually most of psds get deleted because I'm too lazy to get a hard drive. It doesn't really bother me that much because I like the art so when it's done, it's done. Off to somewhere else it goes.

Here are the layers:

Everything is neat and organized in folders because I like it that way. I prefer to edit it in timeline but others edit each frame. There's a layer not shown (Layer 4 is not visible) and it's the vector art. Here it is:

Now it is visible. I don't plan to make this a tutorial, but if you're interested I'd love to share a few tricks about it. I'm pretty new to the colors in gifmaking but the rest is simple to understand. Here, I just want to show how much work it takes to make it.

I opened Group 2 and here's the base gif. I already sharpened and sized it correctly but that's about it. Let's open the base coloring next.

Yay! Now it looks pretty! The edits are in Portuguese but it doesn't matter. There's a silent art of adding layers depending on how you want the gif to look but you get used to it. The order matters and you can add multiple layers of the same thing (for eg. multiple layers of levels or curves or exposure).

This was pretty much my first experiment with coloring so I don't know what I'm doing (this happens a lot with any art form but gifmaking exceeds in DIYing your way to the finished product) but I didn't want to mess up his hair, that's why the blue color is like that. Blue is easy to work with because there's little on the skin (different from red and yellow but that's color theory). I painted the layers like that and put it on screen, now let's correct how the rest looks.

I was stuck trying to get the right teal shade of blue so yes, those are 10 layers of selective color mostly on cyan blue. We fixed his hair (yay!) we could've probably fixed the blue on his neck too but I was lazy. This is close to what I wanted so let's roll with that.

BUT I wanted his freckles to show, so let's edit a little bit more. Now his hair is more vibrant and his skin has red tones, which accentuates the blues and his eyes (exactly what I wanted!). That lost Layer 2 was me trying to fix some shadows in the background but in the end, it didn't make such a difference.

This was part of an edit, so let's add the graphics and also edit them so they're the right shade of blue and the correct size. A few gradient maps and a dozen font tests later, it appears to be done! Here it is:

Please reblog gifsets on tumblr. We gifmakers really enjoy doing what we do (otherwise we wouldn't be here) but it takes so long, you wouldn't imagine. Tumblr is the main website used for gif making and honestly, we have nowhere to go but share our art here. This was only to show how long it takes but if you're new and want to get into the art of gif making, there are a lot of really cool resource blogs in here. And my ask box is always open! Sending gifmakers all my love.

#gif making #gif tutorial #resources #completeresources #y'know what that post yesterday got me into this #i love creativity so i send all my love to gifmakers #this is HARD #my tutorials #tutorials

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stvrni0lo · 10 months

Text

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝

matt sturniolo x reader (angst/fluff)

summary: after a huge misunderstanding, matt has to find a way to fix things

warnings/notes: mild argument, mentions of cheating

requested?: yes!

> > >

Ever since you and Matt started dating, you made an oath to never believe the things said online. People posted nasty comments about you and your relationship - so the deal was struck that you guys would advise each other should anything worrying come up.

This notion was quickly thrown out the window however once Matt witnessed something that made his stomach drop.

It was a picture of you and some guy. Shamelessly hugging at a café near town. He saw a huge grin plastered onto your face. He didn’t like jumping to conclusions, but when he saw another picture pop up on his timeline of you guys having a coffee together, his blood began to run cold.

Could this be?

He trusted you with everything he had, but something about this struck him as odd. You had told him you were just going to the post office - plus, he had never seen or heard of this ‘friend’ before.

Trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, his mind came to the conclusion that perhaps you had just run into an old friend and decided to catch up.

However when you came home and failed to mention your early morning rendezvous with this new friend of yours, he began to panic. He had specifically asked you what you did today in the hopes that you would ease his worries - but when you completely and blatantly lied to his face? He lost it.

“I saw you,” he blurted out.

You turned around to face him, confusion settling on your features. You set your keys behind you quickly and walked up to Matt.

“Saw me where?”

He huffed in annoyance. He hated that you were pretending to act clueless.

“With that guy,” he said. When you didn’t budge he kept going. “You were at a café. You’re lying to me - you said you went to the post office!”

He didn’t like accusing you of anything, but what was he supposed to think?

To be fair, it was true that you had been at the post office that day - but it was also true that you had been at that café. What Matt didn’t know was that what he saw was not an example of you being unfaithful, and when you tried to explain this, he wasn’t having any of it.

“No - you lied to me. And for what? To go see some guy? I trusted you!”

You could see the hurt on his face as he finished his sentence, his breathing picking up.

“He’s not just some guy!” you yelled back.

Matt was taken aback, involuntarily stepping backwards from you. He felt betrayed, and even more - angry. How could you be defending this man when he was trying to confront you for what you did?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you trailed off, sighing.

You took a few steps towards Matt, but he backed away again, tears brimming at his eyes.

“He’s my brother.”

Matt scoffed, rolling his eyes. The audacity of you to come up with this bullshit shocked him completely.

“I’m not lying - look,” you said as you pulled out your phone and showed him some old pictures.

Sure enough, there was the café guy with you. Except you were both younger. Your mother could be seen behind you both, her arms wrapped around your shoulders.

The memory made your eyes sting, and before you could stop yourself you let out a huge sob, dropping your phone into Matt’s hands.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t ready yet - I haven’t seen him in years… I- I wanted to meet him first and-“ you said as you tried to keep the trembling in your voice to a minimum. “I’m not even sure if he’s gonna stick around this time.”

Matt furrowed his brows, looking intently at the images on your phone. Now that he noticed it, you guys did look alike - and now he felt horrible for assuming the worst of you.

Taking your phone back from him, you placed it in your pocket.

“I’ll explain everything another time. I think I just want to be alone right now,” you mumbled, your head throbbing from all the sudden crying. Sniffling and wiping away your tears, you grabbed your car keys off the table.

Before Matt could come to his senses and stop you, you were already out the door, reversing out of his driveway.

- - -

You made quick work getting home. Attempting to keep your tears at bay could only last so long, so you drove as fast as possible. Rain pattered against your windscreen and the squeaking of the wipers was all you could focus on to help calm your breathing down.

Seeing your brother for the first time in years made you extremely emotional. You were happy, of course - but the hurt that he caused you and your family still lingered whenever you saw his face. What hurt even more was that Matt thought you would ever betray his trust.

You didn’t blame him. The evidence seemed pretty convincing. Yet you wished you didn’t have to reveal this secret to him so soon. You wished you had more time to prepare - your brother had always been a sensitive topic to you. It was just easier to not mention him around Matt and his brothers. That would cause too many buried emotions to come up, and you really never felt like explaining your family drama.

How well that worked out, you thought to yourself.

What you didn’t know was that Matt had ran out of the house almost immediately. Chris and Nick had been out somewhere with the minivan, so he opted to run after you since your house wasn’t too far.

He tried to think of what he would say once he saw you. Nothing seemed good enough. How could he even begin to convey how sorry he was?

He was at your door in less than 10 minutes.

Seeing your car parked out front, he jogged up to your door, knocking desperately.

“Matt?” you said as you opened the door.

There he was on your front doorstep, soaking wet and shivering in the cold. His hair was dripping water onto the ground, and his tears were masked by the raindrops trickling down his cheeks.

“What are you doing?”

Grabbing his arm you pulled him inside, immediately grabbing a towel and wrapping him up.

You sat him down on your couch and turned on the heater, hoping to prevent him from catching a cold. Once Matt’s teeth stopped chattering, he began to speak.

“I can’t even tell you how sorry I am,” he whispered, his puppy-dog eyes welling up with tears once again.

“Matt-“ you began.

“Let me finish. I should have never accused you of cheating - I know you had your reasons for hiding this from me. I just want you to know that you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’ll be here to listen whenever you’re ready, no rush.”

You pulled his head to your chest, hugging him tightly. Matt’s tears soaked your t-shirt but you didn’t care. All you were worried about now was him and how cold he probably was.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to lie to you,” you said as you toyed with the wet strands of hair on his head.

“And I hope you know I would never cheat on you. I’m sorry that you thought that.”

He raised his head, smiling at you.

“I know,” he said.

Grabbing your hands in his, he peppered kisses all over your fingers and palms, giving love to each individual finger and inch of skin.

“Last time I believe pictures from the internet,” he joked as he intertwined your hands, laying his head back on your shoulder.

“I thought that’s always been the deal, goofball.”

After a few moments of silence you pulled Matt off the couch, bringing him to your bedroom where you dried his hair off with your dryer.

His hands rested on your hips, playing with the hem of your shirt as he sat on your bed. You stood above him, making sure to get every strand of hair water-free for him.

“I love you,” he said as you unplugged the hairdryer from the wall, his eyes trailing across your features adoringly.

Resting it on the floor, your feet padded up towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his forehead which was nice and dry now.

“I love you too, baby.”

He pulled you on top of him, falling backwards onto the bed as he gripped your waist tightly. With your legs straddling him and Matt’s hold unwavering, you both fell asleep, happy as ever.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader

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coneyislandbabey · 1 year

Text

i'm with you. -> w. rojas

WARNINGS: profanities, pregnancy, my general disregard for the timeline of the canon story, trying my hand at the interview format

SYNOPSIS: You and Warren are friends with benefits. And then you find out you're pregnant. word count: 3,083

Y/N L/N: We did not know what the fuck to do.

Warren Rojas: It was the biggest surprise of my goddamn life, I’ll tell you that!

“Pass me a cigarette?” Warren asked. You were laying in your bed wearing just a t-shirt, the man in question sprawled on his stomach in just his boxers, head laying on your stomach. You reach over to the bedside table and grab the carton and your lighter, slipping out two and slotting one between your own lips. You patted the back of Warren’s head gently and he rolled over so he was facing you, smiling. You placed the other cigarette between his lips and lit it for him before continuing to run your fingers through his mop of curls.

He was smiling stupidly up at you without saying a word, and it was starting to get distracting. “What are you looking at, Rojas?”

“You look super foxy wearing my shirt,” he answered immediately, that stupid grin still fixed on his face. You rolled your eyes in lieu of having to respond, shoving his head lightly away from you and he laughed, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and rolling over until his face was pressed into your stomach. It was times like these that had you contemplating what it even was that you and Warren were doing. You weren’t dating, and neither of you had ever brought up the possibility of doing so. He was just your best friend, and you were his, and you happened to like getting it on with each other. But then he’d go and compliment you, or look at you with those eyes, and you were lost.

Eddie Roundtree: Those two? Man, they were in love with each other before we ever left Pittsburgh. Before we ever formed the band, even! I couldn’t believe it took all that for them to figure that out.

“Okay, out with you. Rehearsal’s early tomorrow and I need to sleep,” you announced, after some time of you two laying in comfortable silence, smoking your cigarettes down to nothing.

Warren propped himself up on one arm so you were face to face, pouting. “Can’t I sleep in here tonight?”

You fixed him with a pointed look. “Are you really gonna sleep? Or are you gonna do that thing where you lay quietly in the darkness for all of thirty seconds before you ask me what kind of afterlife I believe in.”

“I promise, I’ll really sleep if you let me stay,” he laughed. You sighed, stretching your arms above your head and snuffing out the but of your cigarette in the ashtray on your bedside table.

“Fine, you can stay, but you have to get up and turn out the lights,” you consented. Warren cheered and scrambled up to do as he was told. You pulled the sheets down and a half a second later, Warren jumped into bed next to you, pulling the blankets up around you both.

“Goodnight,” you said into the darkness, “for real. Go to sleep.”

“Night, mama,” came his reply, and you could hear the cheeky smile on his face.

You awoke in the morning to Warren’s arm slung tightly around your waist, his face flush against the back of your neck. You could feel his steady sleep breathing against your skin. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just about time you both needed to get up and get ready anyway. Blearily, you turned over so you were facing Warren, intent on waking him up, but you couldn’t help yourself; for a moment, you just laid there and took in his peaceful face, the perfect slope of his nose, the way his curls half obscured his eyes. God, you were gone. You’d have to stay away from him for the next few days to get yourself in check.

“Warren,” you said softly, voice still scratchy with sleep, “We gotta get up for rehearsal, man.” Nothing. You called his name a few more times, then resorted to lightly tugging one of the curls over his forehead. After a few attempts of that, he groaned, tightening his arm around your waist and burying his head in your chest.

“No,” he said, though you almost couldn’t hear it, what with his face squished against the fabric of your (his) t-shirt.

“Yes,” you retorted. “And we can’t be late or Billy’ll have our heads on pikes outside his house. Now get your ass up.”

Warren took a deep breath and dragged himself into a sitting position, the sheets and quilt pooling around his waist. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and you pushed him onto the floor.

Warren Rojas: Oh, man, c’mon, of course I was in love with her. There wasn’t a possible universe out there where I wasn’t. Why didn’t I tell her? Because I was dumb, and maybe I was scared.

At rehearsal, you kept your distance from Warren, throwing yourself into your bass harder than you had in a long time. The way your stomach swooped every time you locked eyes with him and he grinned that wide, toothy grin at you, was dangerous. Stomach swooping and butterflies were not supposed to happen between you. No, not between you. Just you falling for your best friend like an idiot. You wouldn’t do anything that could cause drama between the band, seeing as there was already always enough of that to go around, but more importantly, you wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize your friendship with Warren. That was the most important thing. So, lay low a few days, decline spending the night with him the next time he asks. Make some distance, so everything can stay the same. So everything can stay okay.

By the end of rehearsal, you could tell that Warren had picked up on the fact that something was off with you. Usually, you stood as near the drumset as you could get away with while playing, and always wandered over to talk to him whenever there was a lull between takes or you had a break. Today, you busied yourself fussing over your bass and writing in your little notebook, even though most of the time you were merely doodling and doing your best to look very absorbed so he wouldn’t try to talk to you. As everyone packed up their instruments for the day, you saw Warren looking at you from across the room. He took a step in your direction, hesitated, and then turned to talk to Graham as he walked past instead. You tried to ignore the way your heart tightened when he didn’t come over.

Eddie caught up with you as you exited into the hall. He matched pace with your strides, but didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you, concernedly. Finally, you had enough and stopped walking, turning to face him, a pointed look on your face.

“Did something happen between you two?” He asked. You didn’t have to ask who he meant by ‘you two’.

“No, why do you ask?” you replied as nonchalantly as you could.

“Don’t bullshit me, (y/n),” he said, “you were ignoring him.”

“I wasn’t–” you sighed, pinched the bridge of your nose. “You wouldn’t understand, Ed. I just– I wasn’t ignoring him. He didn’t do anything.”

Eddie shot you an annoyed look, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? That he hasn’t done anything.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him he had it all wrong, and closed it again. Eddie was your best friend outside of Warren, and he was Warren’s best friend outside of you. Of course he knew what was going on between you. The whole band probably had some inkling, though you’d tried to keep it on the low.

“That’s not a problem, Eddie. That’s just the way it is,” you said gently, more to yourself than to him.

“I’m here. If you need someone to talk to,” Eddie said, and you could tell that he meant it. You nodded and turned, walking away from him before that understanding, concerned look got you spilling your guts in the middle of the hallway.

When you got outside, Warren was leaning against the building, waiting for you. You briefly considered throwing him a simple hey and getting the fuck out of there, but he looked so… apprehensive. Scared, sad, like he was worried he’d done something wrong. You couldn’t leave him like that.

“Hey, Warren,” you said, stopping in front of him. He straightened, pushing off the wall to stand fully.

“Hey,” he said, the word stilted, as if he meant something else to follow it but had cut himself off. “I’m starving. Let’s go get food?”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you smiled, giving in without a fight.

Y/N L/N: I never could say no to him. Not the whole time we’ve known each other.

You were thrown into consciousness by a jolt of nausea overwhelming you. Clumsily, you threw the sheets off of yourself and ran to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet just in time. By the time you finished retching, Karen was standing in the bathroom doorway, looking at you with concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked as you flushed, handing you a cup of water that you gratefully used to rinse your mouth. Last night had been a rare one where Warren had slept in his own bed, and you were glad that he hadn’t been there to witness that.

“I think so,” you nodded, voice raspy, “I don’t know what that was.”

Karen nodded, keeping quiet for a moment as you brushed your teeth. “Do you think–? Well, is it possible you’re pregnant?”

You turned toward the blonde, gaping. Honestly, you couldn’t believe that it hadn’t crossed your mind before she’d said it. You and Warren went at it pretty frequently, and at least half the time you were high off your asses. There’s no way for you to really be sure you had always used protection, and you knew for a fact, based on the leftover pills, that there were nights you forgot to take your birth control.

“Fuck,” you said thoughtfully.

Karen and Camila went with you to the doctor’s appointment, all of you telling the guys that you had planned a girl’s day so that they wouldn’t try to invite themselves along to your false plans. In the waiting room, you sat in a plastic chair between the two, anxiously ripping at the frays in your jean shorts.

“Hey,” Camila said, placing her hand over yours in order to still it. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever the outcome is, it’ll be fine.”

You looked over at her, comforting you with one hand and holding Julia with the other. Things had worked out for her, hadn’t they? Her whole pregnancy had been scary, and the first few months of Julia’s life had been hard, but things had smoothed out by now. Mothering seemed to come easy to her now, and even Billy was becoming a better father every day. You could handle this. If that was what it was, you could handle it.

And that was, in fact, what it was. The doctor quickly confirmed for you that you were pregnant, just about a month along. You sat in a booth at the diner afterwards, staring into your coffee. You had no idea what the hell you were going to do. Worse yet, you had no idea how the hell to tell Warren. Just thinking about what could possibly happen after you told him almost sent you running to retch in another toilet.

Karen Sirko: We [Camila and I] could tell that she was going off the deep end about this. Of course it was scary, but I knew she was worrying about what Warren would say, and that’s the one thing she didn’t have to worry about. I knew he’d be with her, always, whatever she chose. That’s how he was with anything to do with her.

Camila Dunne: She looked more scared than I did when I found out I was pregnant with Julia! We did our best to comfort her, but I knew she wouldn’t feel better until she told Warren, so we took her home.

Graham had dragged the rest of the guys to the beach that day for surfing, but they were all home by the time you reached the house. Camila promised she’d be waiting by the phone in case things went sideways and you needed her, and then took Julia home to put her to bed after dropping you and Karen off.

Karen reached down, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, trying to convince yourself of it. You stood in front of the door to the house a few seconds longer, willing yourself to just open it. Eventually, Karen took pity on you, taking that step for you, pulling both of you inside. In the living room, Warren and Graham were sitting on the couch, and Eddie was sprawled out in the round wicker chair to the side, all of them laughing at something you and Karen had missed.

“Oh, hey! You guys are finally home,” Warren said, smiling over at you. Then he must’ve noticed the look on your face, because the smile dropped from his face in an instant. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, Warren, can we go talk? Alone?” You managed out, trying to control your breathing. Warren glanced back at Graham and Eddie, who were looking at him with equally confused and concerned faces, and then turning to look at Karen, silently asking what had happened. She shook her head slightly, moving to take Warren’s seat on the couch as he stood.

“Of course, let’s go out back,” he said. You nodded and he fell into step beside you, hand automatically going to the small of your back as he guided you outside.

Once the door was closed behind you, he turned to you and asked, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He was standing so close to you, you could barely think. You forced yourself to look at him. Those eyes filled with concern, that face you loved. You felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, knowing that the next words out of your mouth could– would– change everything between you, and you had no way to tell just how things would change. You didn’t want to lose him. God, you couldn’t handle losing him. Not over this, not over anything.

“Warren,” you said, the words coming out slowly. You paused, did your best to steady your breathing once again. “I’m pregnant.”

It took a second for him to process your words, but once he did, his eyes widened. He didn’t step away from you, like you thought he would. He didn’t leave, he didn’t yell, he didn’t freak out, like you were scared he might.

“I– you’re pregnant?” he asked, like maybe he hadn’t heard you right. “It’s mine?”

“Yes. Warren, you’ve been the only one. For a long time, you’ve been the only one,” you confessed, nodding your head.

He nodded, more to himself than to you. “You’ve been the only one, too. For a long time.”

His eyes had softened, and that usual smile was returning to his face. You couldn’t believe he was standing here so serenely. Even if he was high– which was the most likely– you figured the news would have freaked him out at least a little bit more.

“So?” You asked.

“So what?”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Well,” he started, stepping closer and resting his hands on your waist. “We’ll do whatever you choose to do. And whatever that is, I’ll be right there with you. I promise.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding. The tears that had been threatening to overtake you all day finally came, and you let them fall. You looked up at him. “I want this baby, Warren. I want to keep it.”

He grinned, bringing his hands up to your face to gently brush away your tears with his thumbs. “Okay, we’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” you repeated, reciprocating his smile. He kissed you then, gentler than he ever had before, and for a minute you were able to let go of all the fears that had been whirling through your mind since that first morning you’d thrown up.

Later that night, Warren was laying on your bed, watching you as you stood in front of the mirror, wiping off your makeup. You were wearing one of his t-shirts, like you always did to go to bed.

“I want to marry you, you know,” he said suddenly. You locked eyes with him in the mirror, and at the look of sincerity on his face, you turned around.

“Warren. What?” you asked, dumbfounded. He got up off the bed and walked over to you, pulling you to him.

“I’m serious. I never had the nerve to say it before tonight, but I want more with you. I have for a long time,” he said. “I want to marry you. I want us to be a real family, you and me and this baby.”

“Are you sure?” The last thing you wanted was Warren committing himself to you for a lifetime just because he felt obligated to.

“Woman, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Rojas,” you nodded, beaming. He cheered, pulling you off your feet into a hug and spinning you around. When he planted you back on the floor, he took your face in his hands, kissing you long and sweet.

“I don’t have a ring yet,” he admitted. “I didn’t expect to be asking just yet.”

You laughed. “S’alright. I don’t want us to get married yet, anyway. I don’t want a baby bump in all our wedding photos.”

“We’ll have the wedding right after she’s born, then,” Warren nodded. “She’ll be the star of the show.”

“She?” you questioned.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely a girl,” he said confidently, moving one of his palms to lay flat across your stomach. “I can just tell.”

Warren Rojas: and Mariposa was born eight months later.

Y/N Rojas: of course he wanted to name her some hippie shit. And of course I let him. I already told you, I never could say no to him.

#daisy jones and the six #djats #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #daisy jones #camila dunne #julia dunne #karen sirko #karen karen #billy dunne #graham dunne #eddie roundtree #eddie loving

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yanderes-galore · 7 months

Text

@okchijt

@shinjisdone if you still like BOTW mutual.

I hope this came out well- It's not really gorey but Zelda never usually is so-

Yandere! BOTW! Link Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Mentions of death, Manipulation, Dubious affection, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Like other Links in the past timelines, Link is also a quiet hero.

He most likely met you after his century long rest and resurrection.

If you think of what this Link has gone through... he's certainly been through a lot.

He's died trying to defend the kingdom, he wakes up to see all he cares about dead, he's alone as he tries to fix Hyrule.

Having a companion to help him along the way could potentially cause obsession.

He has no other companions when he first wakes up and begins to train.

Zelda is locked away to keep Ganon from growing in power.

The Champions have died with their spirits locked away in the Divine Beasts.

Sure, he gets companions and allies as he explores.

But his journey still feels rather lonely.

Not only that but he may not even remember them due to his memory loss.

You are the face that greets him when he manages to make it way into a village.

It's a surprise to see Link of all people 100 years after the battle.

However, you still make an effort to aid the hero.

Link notices the hope in your eyes as you offer him whatever supplies he may need.

You offer tools, scavenged weapons, food, water, whatever.

You even offer companionship.

Link naturally finds himself drawn to your helpful nature.

Your companionship touches his heart, friends are something Link needs during his journey.

You offer him a bed to rest and buy trinkets he finds to sell to you.

You help him find a good stable and horse to use on his travels.

The first village he visits, your village, he often revisits.

He hates that he doesn't remember much of anything.

All he knows is he has a purpose, even if his memories have been wiped away.

Part of him uses this to start new.

He allows you to be the first companion in his journey, one he can rely on as he grows stronger.

Link would still do what he's fated to do.

He'd challenge shrines to regain his strength.

Then he'd use such strength to aid Zora's Domain, Rito Village, Death Mountain, and Gerudo Valley.

Yet when it comes to rest, Link always treks back to your village on horse back.

It's like each day the knight of Princess Zelda comes back to you stronger.

He gives you a soft smile and holds out little things he's found for you.

You are too scared to leave your village most of the time due to Ganon's monsters.

So Link makes you feel like you're on this journey with him by gifting you treasures.

They're little gifts from him, it shows he cares.

Link's attachment to you grows as his journey continues.

He's silent, often speaking in actions more than words.

He's playful at times when he sees you again, encouraging you to hug him when he visits.

He takes you on horse back at times just to see things.

He promises to protect you outside of the village.

If any monster of malice threatens you, Link slays them with a blade and watches as the dark aura drains from them.

He apologizes with a hug that you nearly got hurt.

Truth is, he'd slay anything to protect you.

No matter how dirty the job is.

I feel Link trying to encourage romantic attraction between you would consist of gifts and physical affection.

He collects flowers on his journey to give you.

He collects shiny jewels for nothing but attention in return.

His hugs also appear to become longer the longer he's away.

Maybe he'll even sneak in a kiss on the cheek.

Before he lost his memories, Mipha and Zelda were potential partners he could choose.

But now... he only ever wants you.

In fact sometimes he wishes he didn't have to bear such responsibilities of piecing together Hyrule alone.

He just wants to settle down with you in your village.

He hates it when he has to part from you, especially for the final battle.

Even when he regains his memories, his thoughts of you stay rooted in his mind.

He no longer wants to be with Zelda romantically.

He's her knight, sure...

Yet he still wants you.

So when he comes back after saving Hyrule, why do you refuse him after everything?

You tell him he belongs with Zelda.

But he doesn't want that.

He wants you.

You seemed so susceptible to his affection before?

Every kiss, touch, hug, and gift....

Now... you won't embrace it.

You claim it was wrong to give into him, or that you never saw him in such a way.

Well... Link simply won't stand for that.

You've been a big help to him through his journey.

Even if you never physically came with, having somewhere to retreat to after battle felt fantastic with you.

Link isn't going to accept leaving you, he's tired of things never going his way.

So he decides he'll always stick by you, like it or not.

You can't get rid of him.

You can try to push, yell, and threaten him.

He doesn't listen.

He's fought off the evils of Hyrule just to be repaid with your affection.

He won't let you take that away from him now.

He's way stronger now and won't let you go.

You'll be safe with him... he promises to love you as repayment for helping him...

He's chosen to love you and no one else, even willing to even fight fate to stay beside you instead of anyone else.

#yandere legend of zelda #yandere breath of the wild #yandere link #yandere botw link

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dduane · 2 months

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The thought of mass loss of life makes me sad so I can't help but wonder if there actually were more lives lost than just the Satrachi that were chasing Dairine when a star went nova in the Reserved Words chapter of High Wizardry. If there was would there have been anything the Powers could have done about it? Like in the Lifeboats part of Interim Errantry when a bunch of wizards were asked to volunteer with a mass exodus before a moon collides with it's planet. Maybe that's why the moon was barren, cause all the life that was willing to go had already been removed?

Thanks for the question!

First of all, about the situation in Young Wizards: Lifeboats: the text (per the briefing in chapter 3) states that the moon Thesba has never had life of any known kind on it. It was blown loose from its original primary (along with various other similar bodies) "in its early formative stages," so there would have been no chance for life to form between then and either its billions-of-years-later capture by the Tevaralti star μ Cephei / Erakis, or the novel's "now" of 2011.

Meanwhile, as regards the situation surrounding the star that (due to the Lone Power's machinations) goes nova in that chapter in High Wizardry:

The thing to remember about the Powers that Be is that they are neither omnipotent nor omniscient.

Even if they'd known what was going on around the planets of that nova—if any, which we're told in the text isn't known—there's no guarantee they could have done anything. By and large, in the Young Wizards series, wizards are one of the main ways (if not the main one) by which the Powers affect the physical world. And wizards have their limitations, even when optimally empowered. There's no sense that any wizards, or indeed any of the Powers, necessarily knew the nova was about to occur. There's a near-infinity of timelines running, and a lot of different set of actions (or failures to act) affecting them. Not even the Powers can keep track of them all... least of all when the intentions and actions of living beings—including the Lone One—are involved.

But then this series doesn't run on the kind of magic where you notice something bad is about to happen, and then stop it by an effort of will or of good intentions. It does run on wizardry (or the task-based version of wizardry, "errantry"), where when you discover that something's going wrong, you do your best to see what's causing it and then make a plan to try to use your power to make a change in what's happening... or has already happened. (And fixing a problem in the present or the future is always easier than what it takes to fix it in the past, as well as less complicated.) Sometimes your plan and its execution works; sometimes it doesn't. And whichever case prevails, you learn from what happened and have a better idea of what to do the next time. (And so do the Powers.)

But in that world, as in the real one, sometimes bad things happen that cannot be stopped. (There's some discussion of this in more detail in The Wizard's Dilemma.) In such cases it becomes the job of those who survive the bad things—wizards and non-wizards alike—to do their best to make sure that they never happen again. Though these intentions may be good, positive results are not necessarily guaranteed... because entropy is running. But your job—as either wizard or non-wizard—is not to let this fact deter you, but to keep on trying.

Hope this helps. Thanks again for asking.

#Young Wizards meta #entropy

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silverwhittlingknife · 2 years

Note

In issue # 110 of Nightwing (1996), why did Dick look irritated (and clench his fist) when Tim told him that Bruce considered adoption (which Tim rejected obvs), especially since Tim's dad was killed (and Dick knows that)?

ANON YOU HAVE ASKED ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE ISSUES OF NIGHTWING OF ALL TIME <333

Very short answer: it's the trauma

So the thing is, this is a heartbreaking issue that requires a lot of footnoting, because the emotional undercurrents are BIG and POWERFUL but the dialogue is deliberately understated?? and Dick and Tim are often not saying what they mean?? or just straight-up lying to each other?? and they're TALKING PAST EACH OTHER because

they both suck at communication

they are not even TRYING to communicate their actual problems - like, if Tim straight-up said, "A bunch of people I love are dead and I keep having nightmares about how it's my fault and I'm guilty and miserable and lonely and avoiding Bruce and I came to your city because I was reeling and I missed you and I didn't know what else to do and now I'm scared you're mad at me," that would crack through Dick's determination to keep his distance because Dick's whole thing here is based on the conviction that Tim is fine, but of course Tim doesn't say any of that, and Dick can't read his mind. And Dick's not quite as determined a liar as Tim so Tim is able to figure out a little more of what's going on with Dick vis-a-vis insecurities, but Tim's still completely missing what a colossal mess Dick is right now, and again: this is because he's not a mind-reader and Dick doesn't tell him! And doesn't want to tell him! And doesn't want him to know! So Tim thinks that Dick's maybe acting this way because he's mad at Tim, and he tries to solve the problem from that angle, even though that's not at all what's going on and actually Dick's miserable and traumatized and mad at himself

I love it so much

So the short-ish answer to your question is, Tim's correctly guessed at some of Dick's insecurities here. Dick's not mad that Tim's in the city, but Tim's right that the adoption was a big deal to Dick, and he's right that Dick's a little threatened by the idea of Tim getting adopted too. (This wouldn't normally be the case! But Dick was kinda uneasy about Tim in the early days when his own relationship to Bruce felt very shaky, and right now Dick's feeling like he's lost Bruce again, and when he's insecure about himself he tends to slide into seeing Tim as a rival - both in vigilante terms and in terms of a connection to Bruce.)

And probably the main reason Dick's so stunned - and a bit angry - here is because Bruce didn't tell him, and although this is very different from Bruce not telling him about adopting Jason... it's still jabbing at those old wounds.

BUT THE LONGER ANSWER is important! Dick loves Tim, a lot!! SO MUCH. He watches Tim sadly from a distance and thinks about how much he loves him in this very comic! So why isn't Dick more enthusiastic about the potential adoption? Why is he skulking around in alleys being miserable and self-destructive and avoiding Tim so determinedly that Tim's convinced he's offended Dick somehow? What's going on???

Well, Dick's life has been imploding.

So to really answer your question, we have to back up a bit and get the context of what's going on with Dick and Tim prior to this comic.

I started writing about this and it got way out of hand, so below please find a guide to my four-part manifesto about Nightwing 110 and what's going on and why I think it's great:

Background: Dick + Tim + Trauma Conga Lines

Background: War Games Aftermath

Nightwing 110

Fix-It Fic Ideas

rambling manifesto is below the cut

Background: Dick + Tim + Trauma Conga Lines

Images: a reporter is shot and killed in front of Dick in N 93; a few days later, Darla is shot and killed in front of Tim in R 129; a blood-covered Dick turns from Blockbuster's body in N 93; a blood-covered Tim stares at his father's body in IC 6

Timeline-wise, we're in The Bad Year for Dick and Tim. Dick's life has been FALLING APART. Blockbuster figured out his secret identity and started murdering his entire supporting cast: Blockbuster hired someone to attack Haly's Circus, blew up Dick's entire apartment building, and shot a reporter in front of Dick. In the climactic confrontation, Catalina Flores killed Blockbuster and raped Dick.

More or less simultaneously in War Games, Tim's life has ALSO been falling apart and his supporting cast has been getting gruesomely murdered. In quick succession, Jack figured out Tim's secret and Tim had to quit, Steph got hired and fired as Robin; Steph accidentally started a gang war; Darla got shot and killed in front of Tim during the gang war; Steph got killed by Black Mask; and Jack Drake got killed by Captain Boomerang.

It's a grimdark time in DC comics.

Background: War Games Aftermath

Dick's slowly recovering in the Manor as Bruce recaps recent events to him (Batman 634)

Now, Dick's actually part of War Games - very briefly. A day or two after Blockbuster's death, Bruce calls Dick for help, and Dick comes to Gotham. Dick and Tim briefly interact but Gotham is in flames, they're both freaking out, and they don't really help each other - Tim tries to tell Dick about Darla, and Dick shuts him down (not realizing Darla is actually Tim's friend); Dick has a panic attack in front of Tim and Tim drags him out of danger but gets snappish instead of worried.

AND THEN, midway through the gang war, Dick gets shot in the leg and ends up in a coma for a while. By the time he's recovered enough to wake up and walk around, Steph's dead, Jack's dead, the funerals are over, and Tim - who's avoiding Bruce - has moved to Blüdhaven.

Here's Dick trying to get answers out of Alfred in Nightwing 99 (Alfred and Bruce aren't telling him anything, either because they can't stand to talk about it or because they're worried about impeding his recovery):

Somewhere around here - presumably whenever he first learns about Jack's death? - Dick calls Tim, who doesn't pick up, in IC 7:

In Nightwing 99, it's implied that Dick leaves the Manor almost as soon as he wakes up, after confronting Bruce:

Dick can't bring himself to confess Blockbuster's death, but obliquely admits his own distress: "…Bruce, I'm lost." Bruce wants to solve things by throwing themselves into The Mission in Gotham: "It's just you and me again, Dick. But there's plenty of work to do." As he talks, Dick grabs his crutches and leaves. He confronts Catalina, arrests her, and tries to turn himself in... but Amy doesn't let him. As he's walking out, angry at Amy and at himself, a prisoner offers him a card.

Meanwhile, in the Batcave, Alfred's stunned to discover that Dick's abandoned his costume:

In Nightwing 107, we learn that Dick has ditched everything and apparently joined the mob - or is he undercover? Dick ultimately comes up with justifications for what he's doing, but a lot of what he's doing is punishing himself and hiding from his life. He's in Detroit for a while, but then has to go back to Blüdhaven, where he sees Tim...

...and now we're caught up with Nightwing 110.

Nightwing 110

I haven't had a chance to see Robin in action since the beginning of the gang wars in Gotham. It seems like just yesterday he was an earnest little computer geek too smart for his own good. He's still too smart for his own good and he can still kick butt with a search engine, but now he's a full-fledged superhero, to boot. Wonder if he knows how good he is? Not just at the fighting, but at keeping the whole thing on his terms. That's really hard to do, and Tim - he's been through so much, and weathered it so well.

Dick's been staying mostly in Detroit rather than Blüdhaven for various reasons, but one very important one is that he's been avoiding Tim.

Dick and Tim's relationship always suffers when Dick's self-worth issues get in the way, and this is probably the most dramatic moment AND IT'S SO SAAAAAD *wails*

From very early on, Dick has had a very high opinion of Tim, and - like Bruce's conviction that "you're better than me, Dick" - this is

very heartwarming and an expression of Dick's faith in Tim

very important to Tim, who tries really hard to impress Dick and (like Dick) hangs a lot of his self-worth on being needed and useful

a source of many sweet moments

but also

a source of problems in their relationship, because Dick's high opinion of Tim and low opinion of himself means he consistently underestimates how important he is to Tim, wonders if Tim would be better off without him, and sometimes thinks that keeping his distance is good for Tim so that Dick doesn't bring him down... and meanwhile Tim interprets Dick's distance as disapproval or hostility

When Dick's down on himself, he'll continually compare himself unfavorably to Tim - Tim questions more, Tim's better with Bruce, Tim's got better computer skills, etc. etc.

And that's what's happening here, when Dick watches Tim fight from a distance:

Dick: Still, Timmy played it through nice and clean. Disarmed the perps, protected and avoided the cops, kept any civilians from being shot... God, I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this.

This isn't a neutral assessment of Tim's skills. This is Dick castigating himself. The implication is: Tim plays it nice and clean, Tim kept civilians from getting shot... unlike me. Elsewhere in this arc, Dick's been convinced that he's "poison."

He can't bear to see Tim because he's certain he'll only bring Tim down.

... There's a problem with his plan, though. Tim's spotted him.

Narrator voice: they were not okay

I LOVE THIS PANEL SO MUCH

Tim spots Dick before he can sneak away, and chases after him. At first he tries to tease light-heartedly - "Look at you! Back on your feet!" - but when Dick looks away grim-faced, Tim sobers and we get a bit more of his actual worries. (Tim will sometimes fake cheerfulness when under stress - both Babs and his friends comment on this in War Games and in Teen Titans.)

Now they catch up. Tim asks Dick if he's okay. (Dick says he is. He's not.) Where he's staying. ("Some people" are the mobster family.) Dick asks Tim how his step-mom is. (Tim says she's okay. She's not. She's had a breakdown.) How school's going. (Tim says school's okay too. Actually, he's dropped out.)

And now at last we've looped back to the panels at the top! Dick tries to retreat, and Tim - convinced that Dick is mad at him, which is really not the case - tries to figure out if Dick is mad at him for coming to Blüdhaven without permission, or about Bruce's offer of adoption. (Tim's self-worth issues mean that Tim's convinced that Dick is mad at him about something, as opposed to the truth, which is that Dick is spiraling and it has nothing to do with Tim.)

Dick (turning away): We - we shouldn't be talking like this. Tim (fake-cheer, acting as if Dick means "we shouldn't be talking with you in costume and me out-of-costume"): Well, go get your gear! Dick: I can't do that. Tim (more serious now): You're not mad I'm, like, in your city or anything? Dick (shocked): NO! No. I'm honored. You have more of a right to be here than I do. Tim: Is it the adoption thing? Dick: The what? Tim: 'Cause I was a little worried about that. That's kinda part of why I said no. I mean, that and the uncle thing. I was just thinking it wasn't really all that long since he officially adopted you, which was kind of a big deal, emotionally or whatever, and to me you're like totally his son and I don't wanna step on that or anything.

Dick (whirling): What are you talking about, Tim? Bruce is going to adopt you? Tim (hands up): No! I mean, he was. But he's not now. I've got this uncle… So I don't need, you know, anything really… from Bruce, or… You, uh. You didn't know. I'm sorry, I figured he would've talked to you about it or something. Dick (turning away, jumping off the balcony): Yeah, right. Fat chance. Tim: Well anyway, it's not gonna happen, so you don't have to worry about it... right?

Dick's unnerved by the adoption offer mostly because it drives home his distance from Bruce - he didn't know Bruce was offering this, and since Dick's been thinking of himself as Estranged from Everyone Forever, it feels like Tim joining Bruce's family - replacing Dick - instead of Tim joining Dick's family. So he reacts badly - EVEN THOUGH!!! AGAIN!!! DICK LOVES TIM A LOT!!!

So Dick emphasizes the distance he's trying to create: tells Tim that whatever he does is up to him and Bruce, not Dick, because Dick's withdrawing from everything. Actually, Tim should forget that he ever knew Dick:

Dick (pulls his hood up, turns away): Look, Timmy, I'm sorry. I don't care what he does. If he can be of help to you, you should take him up on it. I wish I could offer to help you myself, but I can't. I'm not part of this anymore. This whole thing… I'm out. Tim: Yeah, right… Dick: From now on, it'd be better if you forgot you ever knew me. Tim (echoing what Dick said): ...Fat chance.

Tim's hurt by this, and he's been pretty oblivious about what's going on with Dick, but he's not an idiot, and after a moment of hesitation he correctly figures out from this ramble what Dick's not saying, which is that Dick's feeling like he's worthless to Bruce, that Bruce doesn't value him, that he's lost that relationship. So Tim impulsively tries to reassure him that Bruce does need him... but Dick's in a lousy headspace and it doesn't work:

Dick's walking away. Tim chases after him again. Tim: Hey, uh-! Remember how I once told you that Batman needed a Robin? Well, that's still true, but even more than that, he…he needs you. You know, not like every second or whatever, but at the end of the day, he needs to know you're still on his side. It's…important. Dick kicks over a newspaper stand. Dick (glaring): YOU- ! - you have no idea how much of my life I've wasted believing that was true. Dick pulls up his hood again and walks away.

(Side-note: forever wonderful to me that both Dick and Tim use "need" as a synonym for "love." Issues: they have them.)

Fix-It Fic Ideas

I have spent a lot of time thinking about potential fix-it fics for this comic (TRAGICALLY AFAIK NO ONE HAS WRITTEN ANY, FEEL FREE TO BE THE FIRST). An idea that I offer free to a good home:

A bit after Dick leaves, Tim winds up in trouble and gets injured and Dick has to rescue him (how does Dick find out about it? I dunno)

Tim's injured so naturally Dick's gonna take him back to his home with his stepmom and/or uncle

. . . except the uncle is an actor and not a very convincing one; Tim's entire edifice of lies collapses

Dick realizes that Tim is not actually weathering things well

Dick still thinks that he's poison and terrible and awful and (insert self-hating monologue here) BUT Tim living on his own after his dad is murdered is so bad as far as Dick's concerned that clearly SOME kind of intervention is necessary

Tim insists he does not need an intervention

Dick's sense of responsibility and worry over Tim now force him to carve out time from his major project of hate-myself-and-feel-bad to try to look out for Tim

Dick insists that Tim stay with him until his stepmom is better

They share an apartment for a while

They are both still super-super-super traumatized

???

eventual hugs and healing on both sides

profit

Alternate fix-it:

Tim follows Dick back to the Tevis' house like the little stalker he is, and then introduces himself in disguise as Alvin Draper

Dick's furious and frustrated but can't do much about this without screwing up his own disguise

Tim's determined to figure out what's going on with Dick partly for altruistic reasons and partly because he's also running from his own life, but Dick doesn't figure out the second part until way later

Dick's so frustrated with Tim being here when Dick told him to go - plus wrapped up in wondering what Tim knows, and being paranoid about what he might figure out, and hating being observed - that it takes him a while to start wondering questions like, "wait, shouldn't Tim be in school"

Dick and Tim are pretending not to know each other - or pretending to have a hostile relationship, or something - so any real conversations have to be in snatches in secret

Dick tries to bluff/threaten Tim into leaving (for his own good!!) but it doesn't work

Slow crawl toward mutual awareness of trauma which they're both super-self-conscious about - Dick hears Tim crying at night; Tim hears Dick's nightmares or sees another panic attack

At some point it becomes increasingly obvious that they know each other / that their story about their relationship is fake, and when the mobsters confront them, Dick says yeah, he lied, actually Tim's his little brother, and he gives some kind of stylized version of the truth which doubles as an emotional speech to Tim who gets all choked up and hugs him

and it's very touching and emotional because remember Tim HASN'T been adopted so they're NOT brothers and Tim was worried maybe Dick didn't WANT to be brothers but Dick CONSIDERS him a brother so ;_;

??? i don't know what happens next. do they quit the mob? does Dick now explain his mob-infiltration plan to Tim?

meanwhile off-panel Bruce stops Deathstroke from blowing up Blüdhaven, well done Bruce

oh wait or maybe Cass does??

anyway Dick and Tim have hugged so then there's a happy ending

In Conclusion

IN CONCLUSION Dick and Tim should hug more and this comic proves it. Look at them! They both need hugs! They're standing so close to each other! THEY ARE MIRROR IMAGES OF TRAUMA AND BAD COPING MECHANISMS they need each other and they don't know how to say it - they want to help each other and they also don't know how to say it - they don't know how to talk to each other or to anyone else - Dick lashes out and Tim lies and they both isolate themselves and withdraw into depression loneliness even though they could help each other! and would want to help each other! but they won't ask for what they need because they don't think they deserve it and they don't realize how important they are to each other

i just think they're neat. i want to study them like bugs and rattle them around in a jar until all the masks come off and they can actually see each other clearly

#dick grayson #tim drake #dick & tim #long post #i LOVE this comic SO MUCH #the way they echo each other's phrases??#the miscommunication??#the tragedy??#the fact that underneath it all they both still love each other and they're TRYING??#ask tag #i know a lot of this wasn't really about your question anon but thank you for letting me ramble <33

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shygirl4991 · 2 months

Text

SMG4: TRASH FRIENDS

I KNOW IM ON BREAK BUT I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS!

the cafe isnt looking so hot this episode makes you wonder what happen

im sorry did they just learn they could do this fklfkjlsd i know when they looked into their past they had the old memes do it but SMG4 just causally shared his memory with Three like how and when did they learn this was a thing they could do!

bet if you told your past self this is a thing they would think your crazy

mario may be their avatar but they cant do everything he does

nerd i love you and your need to roast your friend at random ass times.

my lord there is a in universe version of the series run everyone run!

his cafe is failing something he was proud of cause it made him feel like he found his place in the world after years of chasing SMG4 shadow is now failing the old demons are loud again and he is starting to yet again feel like a poor copy of SMG4. We know that Four doesn't think this but he is also the worse at reading people and cant pick up that SMG3 mental state is cracking as he feels himself slipping into the shadow being forgotten

color theory of mine is shining hard this episode when you focus on these two text colors are going. Given that SMG3 repeated a line SMG4 used in SMG4...are you okay? the start of its gotta be perfect movie story line i wonder if Three is gonna go through something similar its sorta reminding me of my fic next step which has Three facing his demons on what he did to four but in the series it seems its him facing the fear of being forgotten because SMG4 has always been popular memewarts trained Three he will always be in the shadow and that lesson is still there

SMG3 breaks down his true face is shown as seen by the color change he doesnt want to be forgotten and is taken by surprise with how mario reacted he isnt sure why he couldnt be open and talk about his feelings maybe because in the past no one cared to listen till now. Makes me wonder if this how adware could get Three if we got the bad ending could this feeling of being forgotten turn him to the dark side once again maybe lost to it forever? But this timeline we got the good ending so could this be a path to save Three maybe we will be tricked into thinking this is how adware gets him but remembering he has people that listen to his true feelings and know and love him for who he is will give him the power to push back the adware?

i mean damn Four i feel that you act like that way more then SMG3 personal thoughts

its out in the open his feelings and now four knows hopefully with this out in the open the can talk and work on how to move forward this change in SMG3 life isnt going to be easy but he isnt alone anymore

this is why i feel adware wont go after Three or fail to, yes he has negative emotions and strong desires that the adware loves to go after but he has his other half, his partner that when they talk about their feelings they can fix the issue and become stronger as a team. All thanks to moving next door that let him bond and have friends

homie accepting death while Mario is minding his own "ah the gays are at it again" is probs on his mind

and there we have it hopefully SMG4 can help 3 save his cafe and maybe work on the issue of still feeling like he lives in his shadows, the man has done so much to feel like SMG4 is better have a feeling this ep happen due to the votes on who is cooler on youtube (smg4 won it)

#smg4 #shygirl4991 #shay reacts

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emeritusemeritus · 3 months

Text

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 8

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. SMUT. The smut has arrived! P in V, oral (both). Angst, sadness, grief. Illusions of cheating, infidelity, Tags will be updated with each chapter. Not Beta-read or spell checked.

This one got a little angsty 🥀

Marriage was known to be hard work, a long running admittance that was shrouded with humour by those who had known the struggles first hand of maintaining a happy and healthy relationship. Fake marriages were undoubtedly twice as hard; especially when actual feelings were involved and had to be concealed.

After the honeymoon, things had turned almost platonically stale, though you had remained friendly and cordial with George, any hope of furthering your relationship was quickly shot down when you fell placidly into roommate rolls rather than anything more. It was like everything that happened on your honeymoon was forgotten, like it never happened.

Day to day, you carried on as normal, working alongside each other and cohabiting in relative peace but there was little to no intimacy anymore. George had begun sleeping in his own room as soon as you returned back from your honeymoon and had made almost no attempt to sneak into your bed again or initiate anything else in between.

It had been nearly six months since the wedding, five months and a little under two weeks since you'd returned from your honeymoon and you'd completely lost hope that anything was going to magically change between the two of you. You'd tried, at least in the beginning, to initiate more and to subtly flirt with him, trying to reclaim all that had been lost but it was pointless.

You'd had sex twice since returning from honeymoon, both of those times has been the consequence of built up of sexual tension: a release of sorts. This first time, you'd split a bottle of wine and had been watching a movie on the couch, sharing a blanket and one thing had led to another until you were riding him into the couch.

The second time had been after a thunderous meeting with the investors, in which they had found out about your marriage and therefore the redundancy of their name change order. Tempers had flared and George had remained relatively calm, if not a little cocky at their reactions which had only riled them up further. He'd kissed you in celebration of winning his case and you'd barely made it through the door to the flat before he'd taken you hard and rough against the (thankfully) closed front door. It had been messy and dirty, prompted by his business victory with a tangle of kisses, bites and wandering hands that desperately clutched at every piece of bare skin they could find.

The awkwardness that had followed the little slip of judgement had been agonising, taking days to settle down between you where you could hardly make eye contact because of your temporary lapse.

You just had to get through another year and a half of being married before you could part ways and accept that it was never going to happen with George Weasley.

The business had been booming and rightfully so as for the first time in a long time, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had launched new products, a whole new line of Wonderwitch potions. They'd been an instant hit and though it had been considerably more work for you in the potions department, you'd worked tirelessly and happily to assist the business, and George. George had even taken on two more employees recently for the shopfloor as the demand was too much for just him, Ron and Verity whilst you sorted the back of house accounts, ordering and potion making.

To boost business further, George had also accepted a deal proposed by Zonko's Joke Shop to launch a small selection of his products in Zonko's including a new Pyrotechnic, Thestral Thrasher, which was only available from Zonko's on a limited edition basis. George had essentially locked himself away for the past month in the apartment above the shop which had become his new workshop and there had been multiple nights that you hadn't seen him, had eaten alone and then gone to bed without him ever stepping foot through the door.

Putting on a brave and mildly forced smile, you checked yourself a over in the mirror one last time. Tonight Zonko's was hosting a grand opening party for the Wheezes range that they would be carrying, a hard launch into the new business venture between the two stores. As George's wife you were expected to be there with a smile on your face and a pretty gown, in support of your husband. The whole Weasley family would be there as well as close friends, basically everyone in your social circle. You knew there would be questions that you'd have to deflect all night and put on a performance which had you feeling exhausted already just thinking about it. You hoped Ginny would be deep into wedding planning for her upcoming nuptials to Harry and would dominate the conversation for the majority of the night, maybe if you brought it up with Molly it would twist things in your favour.

You smoothed down the front of your silk dress, having chosen a dark purple shade, a subtle little hint of your support of George. George had always been the 'purple' twin whilst Fred had opted to wear more orange shades, keep subtle nods to the colours of their business even in their everyday clothes. Even after George had lost his ear and Fred's death, he had still continued to wear purple shades, as if it was his distinguishing feature. You adjusted your breasts in the admittedly rather sexy dress and checked your makeup one last time before you left the flat, making your way to the next place you could apparate.

Apparating into Hogsmeade, you were immediately met with a beautiful display of a thriving town, bustling with partygoers and late night customers to the multiple tea rooms that were just about to close.

Walking across to Zonko's, you paused and burst into a smile at seeing a giant orange and purple bow placed across the entire storefront, alongside a sign that said it big, moving letters 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes now sold here'. You'd always been proud of everything Fred and George had achieved kid never felt prouder than in that moment, seeing the place you'd spent so much time in during your youth, dragged by the twins to their favourite shop for restocks now carrying their own range, and proudly so.

"Y/n!" You heard to your left, spotting Hermione waving you over as she stood with Ron and Harry slightly off from a crowd of people.

"Blimey, you look nice," Ron says as you walk over to them with a warm smile, greeting them all excitedly. You didn't miss the little glare Hermione shot to Ron at his words and couldn't help but laugh as he relented, looking as uncomfortable in his suit as he had at the Yule Ball, pulling the collar of the restrictive shirt away from his neck.

"Have you seen George?" Ginny says as she steps over to you, throwing her arms around your neck as you greet you sister in law. You smile as her hand finds Harry's almost as soon as you pull apart and shake your head at her, not having seen George at all today.

"Mum's gone looking for him, something about making sure he had eaten enough before the champagne starts but we all know it's because she saw the photographer going inside and wants in on it," Ron says with a mumble which makes you chuckle, knowing he's probably true. "Dad was with him inside."

You nod at the information, casting your eyes back to the building in the hopes you'd catch a glimpse of his red hair but there were too many people.

"Is Charlie coming?" You ask, trying to divert the conversation away from George and receive shaking heads from Ginny and Ron.

"No he's been travelling, following a horde of short-snouts somewhere in Scandinavia. Said he'd make it to the wedding but couldn't get away for this," she explains, opening the door for wedding questions.

You chatted to them for quite a while before Angelina barrelled over to you with her new boyfriend and immediately stole you away. A few hours later, you felt that you'd mingled the night away, dancing through the sea of people getting further and further away from George, who you'd not even seen yet.

"There she is," you hear a voice from behind you and when you turn, you realise that it's Bill. You visibly relax, glad to be in the company of someone you could be yourself around, not having to mingle with investors and acquaintances from your Hogwarts days you'd not seen in a while.

"Being First Lady difficult?" He teases as he wraps is arm around you, a secure and warm brotherly hug that actually helps you relax.

"Horrible, though I'm yet to actually find my husband," you admit with a laugh, looking around for Fleur who was usually by his side.

"She wanted to be here," he says, noticing your gaze for his wife, "morning sickness isn't her friend right now, mum gave her some potion for it but she can hardly keep it down," he replies with a smile. The couple had shared their happy news not too long ago and you were exuberantly happy for them, though you did empathise with Fleur's sickness.

"Well I hope she feels better soon," you say kindly, which he nods his thanks back to.

"Doubt you've seen much of him with all this happening," he says, referring to George with a nod of his head towards the building where you assumed he would be.

"Oh you have no idea," you say coyly, only realising the depth of your statement after the words had tumbled out of your mouth. If Bill noticed any undertone in your words he hid it well and you quickly diverted the conversation back to his work and his unborn child, safe topics to carry you through.

When the fourth round of champagne and various flights of butterbeer, canapés and special Honeydukes iced biscuits that had been imprinted with the signature 'W' slogan came round, you decided enough was enough. You'd mingled long enough and had waited patiently as you secretly sought out your husband but the niggling tension wouldn't go away, you wanted to find George.

You stepped inside the bustling building, seeking out his red hair and tall stature, expecting to see him over the crowd of people but it was near impossible with everyone tucked so tightly together. Each and every time you thought you'd spotted him, it turned out to be one of his siblings, all of them sporting a similar if not identical flame red hair you were looking for.

You had no idea what possessed you but you suddenly decided to slip past the employee only cordon to the stairs and ascend them quickly, hoping no one would see you or notice you'd gone.

George was clearly avoiding you, keeping himself busy with his friends, family and patrons, using them as a barricade to stay hidden from you, no doubt wanting to put a familiar distance between you like normal. You couldn't do this anymore, couldn't pretend that you were perfectly happy when in reality you felt lower than ever, having lost your last remaining best friend. You came up with a story about needing air, about being overwhelmed and needing to fix your makeup if anyone caught you, but thankfully no one stopped you.

You wished somebody had stopped you the second you crept up to the second floor and instantly spotted your husband looking very cozy with the new employee that had started only a month or two ago, both of them huddled together in the dark store room above the shop. The pain you felt was indescribable, like a guttural stab that didn't relent but you couldn't look away from the sight in front of you. They weren't kissing but George was pressed against one of the many racks, her body pressed against him with his hands beside him clutching the racking.

They hadn't spotted your presence and you hardly thought they could, completely wrapped up in each other as they whispered between themselves. You wanted to scream, cry, completely break down but you had no right, trapped in an endless cycle of feelings but without the commitment. You weren't really married, only by law and he was technically free to see whoever- even if he initially said he didn't want to. But it didn't stop it hurting any less.

You had to get out of there, disappear to anywhere where no one was around to see you break down and finally let out the gut wrenching sobs that were threatening to burst out of you at any second. You'd lost Fred and now you were losing George, the pain of your mental statement too much to handle.

You tried to think of a way to escape through the crowd without being noticed but your mind wasn't thinking clearly, you could only think of what was in front of you, the image of them together playing behind your eyes with every blink.

You began to turn away, no longer able to stand there and watch your world collapse and prayed that you could silently retreat without them seeing. Just as you turned, movement caught your eye and you couldn't help but turn back around, silently pleading that you wouldn't have to watch them kiss.

George had pushed her away. Had he seen you?

But then you heard him clearly, his voice raised enough that it carried through the silent, dark room.

"Get off me, I don't want you," he says with conviction as he blocks her with his hands, not enough to hurt her but enough to push her back from him to create distance. "I don't know what you're trying to do but whatever it is, it won't work. I love my wife."

The force of his rather blunt statement hits you like a tonne of bricks, the power of his words actually sounding truthful. The words repeat over and over again in your head like a constant replay and you feel completely blind sighted, the rollercoaster of emotions you'd felt in the past minute too overwhelming.

"But Mr Weasley," the girl says in a rather desperate, whiny voice, trying to reach out for him again.

"What don't you understand? I'm married and I love my wife, there's nobody else I want more than her."

"Y/n."

Your eyes shoot up at the sound of your name and you're met with the green-hazel eyes of George who looks horrified at you standing there, knowing what you'd probably seen and heard. You felt his eyes burning into you, as well as the beady eyes of his companion and instantly wanted to disappear again, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed at the whole situation. It felt like it physically hurt to look into George's eyes and you just had to get away, this time without any hesitation.

You bolted down the stairs, trying your hardest to stay silent and to not cause a scene. It was like you had tunnel vision, completely ignorant of everything happening around you as you set your sights on the door and pushed past the sea of blurred faces, moving quickly with determination until you crossed the threshold of the anti-apparition jinx and disapparated.

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#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #George Weasley #George Weasley fluff #George Weasley smut #George Weasley angst #no good deeds

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