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saetoru · 10 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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conarcoin · 2 years

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So Elon bought Twitter. I'm honestly not gonna push away Twitter newcomers, but if you're in the MCYT fandom you need to understand that the social etiquette and expectations and culture here are very different than over on Twitter. So as someone who's been an active part of mcytblr for two years now, I'd like to offer some thoughts and advice!

One: Shipping. MCYT communities on Tumblr have always tended to lean more tolerant towards shipping of roleplay characters due to the idea that this is a space for fans primarily. The creators who visit or actively use Tumblr like Eret and Martyn understand that this is a fan space primarily, and don't bother us for the content we make, and we don't bother them with it.

The number one worst thing you could do is share shipping content with creators who have not asked for it. This is a huge social faux pas here. Secondly, on the other end — writing callout posts for shippers here isn't gonna fly. Even for RPF shippers and people who may ship boundary-breaking pairings, our default is usually to not engage with these people rather than publicly call them out. It makes the space a healthier place for everyone and makes it much less likely that CCs may come across content they are uncomfortable with. It's also considered a social faux pas to ask CCs their opinions and boundaries on shipping, since that's bringing it up when they didn't ask!

Speaking of shipping, people typically don't mind you maintagging ship content so long as you also tag it as shipping so people can filter it. For Hermitcraft the tag is hermitshipping, Life Series has trafficshipping, and the lesser known DSMP tag is dsmpshipping.

Two: Reblogging. This is something a lot of newer users tend to struggle with. There is no algorithm on Tumblr, at least not one that works, so content creators rely on you reblogging their work in order for it to spread. If you see a fic or piece of art you enjoy, please reblog it! I often reblog art for MCYT fandoms I'm not even personally in.

Three: Tagging (again). There are a wide variety of tags you can use for your content! The most common tags you'll want to use are "mcyt" and "mcytblr", and any relevant series, pairing/group or character/CC names. However, please don't use the tag "minecraft"! Minecraft has an entirely separate fanbase on Tumblr that we co-exist with and have some overlap with, but don't necessarily appreciate seeing MCYT content in their tags. Any tag with "minecraft" in it is also a no-no, such as "minecraft youtubers" or "minecraft championships". Please use shorthands!

Four: Opinions on MCYT drama tend to be very different here than they are on Twitter. For instance, you should assume by default that most bloggers here either like or are completely neutral towards "problematic CCs" like Schlatt. But also, we tend to be very against spreading anything originating from leakers, and we also tend to not be fond of making posts "holding CCs accountable" for things they did years ago. Generally, mcytblr prefers to be a more drama-free community, and if you do engage in discourse, many would appreciate you tagging it as such!

Five: CCs do not need you to babysit them.

Generally speaking you will see a lot of jokes and memes on mcytblr that wouldn't fly on Twitter, and it is generally looked down upon to try to speak on behalf of CCs personal boundaries — they are grown adults, and you are a stranger! Calling out or harassing people for "breaking boundaries" is mostly just going to get you looked at strangely, especially if you don't have a source for your claims. Most of us will stop doing something if asked, but we don't need stans to tell us to! CCs can speak for themselves when uncomfortable.

Six: Most mcytblr blogs don't want CC notices. There are quite a few CCs who are active here, but the community is chill with them as they don't tend to talk about us elsewhere and allow us to do our own thing. We do not, however, like encouraging CCs to join Tumblr or to follow us or reblog our posts — many people here actually prefer being out of sight of CCs and many of us consider it rude to seek out attention from CCs outside of sending the occasional ask.

Please treat CCs kindly and don't gawk at them like you just saw a celebrity on the street — the ones who are active here are just Tumblr users like the rest of you! Seeing Eret reblog fanart or respond to an ask isn't something to point out.

While we joke about Twitter users joining, we don't actually have anything against you guys, it's just that we've built a very different community here and ask that you respect it and the etiquette we've come to establish! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your stay on mcytblr ^_^

#long post #ok to rb #mcyt #mcytblr

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moonlightazriel · 3 months

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When no one hears your calls /// Eris X F!Reader

Summary: When the unbearable feelings of her mate start to mess with her life, Y/N decides to put an ending to their misery.

Warnings: Torture and abuse, Beron being the bastard he is.

Word Count: 3K

Notes: Yeah, i missed writing for my baby Eris. And I'm warning in advance that reader is Azriel's sister and he's mated to Gwyn in this, so please, if you don't stan Gwynriel, scroll past it.

Main Masterlist

She weeped, the feelings flooding her chest too overwhelming to keep controlled. It started with small waves of anxiety, increasing to pure agony, pain erupted through her chest. She tried to keep the tears from spilling, but now she sobbed, broken pleas for it to stop leaving from her parted chapped lips.

“Tell me what’s wrong, let me make it stop.” Azriel begged his sister. Holding her broken frame in between his arms.

“It hurts so much Az, it’s not fair.” She managed to speak in between the sobs that got more hysterical. The shadowsinger just held her tighter, seeing her in such distress broke him, she has always been his greatest weakness.

“Here, take this.” Gwyn offered, her warm hands holding a mug towards the female. “It will help you sleep.” Azriel nodded to his mate, taking the mug from his hands and bringing it to his sister’s lips. He forced the content down her throat, watching as the tea slowly worked, her body relaxed and the tears stopped and she fell asleep against him.

“Thank you.” He said, and Gwyn squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring grip. Azriel grabbed Y/N, taking her to the guest bedroom that Gwyn had set for her, placing her sleeping form carefully on the bed. The red headed female grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the living room again.

“I don’t understand.” He breathed. “She has had these episodes since the High Lord’s meeting, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe she’s sick?” Gwyn suggested and Azriel shrugged.

“I took her to Madja, and she’s been as healthy as ever. There’s nothing wrong with her besides that.” He looked towards the room, to the shadows guarding his sister as she finally rested. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll find a solution Az, I know that.” Gwyn smiled at him, and he pulled the female for a hug.

“I pray to the Mother that you’re right.” She kissed his temple and he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her love soothe his heart.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Whenever an episode approached, it always had small signs indicating it, the uncomfortable feeling in her chest, the rapid breathing and the dizziness like someone hit her in the head with full strength.

She hated that she worried her family so much, but not every time she was able to control how her body would react to it. It angered her how they would look at her with such pained expressions, how much Azriel wanted to help and she didn’t even knew how to ask for his help.

So everyday, Gwyn would take her to the library and she would search the cause of her troubles, her nose glued to the pages for hours until her vision was blurry and her head was pounding. She never felt such agony, only when her half brothers and her father ripped her wings from her back, making a small cut and pulling it until the skin gave up and she blacked out due to the blood loss.

It was Azriel shadows who helped them, sneaking supplies to their cell until they could get rid of the infection that almost killed her and healed his hands. She was glad for them and her brother, they saved her. She always tried to be as less of a burden as possible to not worry Azriel, but now she knew he was distressed about her situation, so she wanted to fix it, for her and for him.

Shadows gathered in a corner caught her attention, she got up, despite not being able to hear them, they always tended to her and her needs. As she approached the shelf, the shadows disappeared, leaving only a copy of an old dusty book behind. She pulled the book out, blowing the dust off, sneezing a bit in the process. Allergic just like Cassian.

She plopped herself in her seat again, scanning the book cover, no name, no nothing, this sparked her curiosity. She opened the book, in a fancy handwriter she could read “MATING BONDS: The complete guide for the matters of the heart.” She smiled at the title.

Just like her brother, she was sometimes too shy to ask about things. Besides having her past lovers, mating bonds are something she was never that curious about. So she sat there, reading the whole thing with attention. If the shadows thought this book would help, she was sure it would.

“Sometimes, strong feelings can leak through a one sided bond. And the other mate can feel it just as clearly as they would if the bond was shared by both mates.” That passage stuck with her, and she organised the books back on the shelf as she saw Gwyn approaching.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How do we know if the bond snapped or not?” She blurted at the dinner table, the eyes of the inner circle turning to her.

“Well, it’s different for everyone and you would mostly just know.” Rhys said, looking at the female, the three Illyrians treated her like they were her brothers as well. So, the three have been looking for ways to help their little sister to get rid of those episodes.

“What if the bond had snapped for me and I just didn’t know it was it?” She inquired again and Azriel turned to his sister, his shadows stopping to look at her curiously.

“Do you think you found your mate?” He asked, eyebrow raised, who she thought she was mated to?

“I found this book that said that feelings can leak through the bond.” The couples nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s very common.” Feyre replied.

“That’s the only explanation for what’s happening to me.” They all stopped for a second. “These emotions are not mine, but they’re strong enough for me to feel it.” Suddenly it all made sense.

“I pity your mate then.” Nesta said with sincerity, whoever it was, was going through great pain for her to feel it so intensely.

“Me too.” Feyre agreed. “But as for the bond, you can feel like a tug in your soul, like no one else matters to you anymore besides that person.” The High Lady concluded.

“Do you think you ever felt like this?” Elain asked and the female nodded.

“Yeah, I think I have.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She couldn’t sleep, her mind filled with too many memories to rest. But one in particular caught her attention, and she closed her eyes, focusing on that memory until she could see it clearly.

“I didn’t know the Night Court had such beauties by their side.” His voice purred, and she turned around to see the well dressed autumn male. He had a smirk adorning his lips, his hair slicked back, leaving a clear view of his face.

“The autumn males aren’t that bad either.” She sheepishly replied, eyes glued to his amber eyes. Eris Vanserra was a dangerous male, as her family had alerted her, but what a beautiful disaster he was. Stealing her breath away and making her lose all of her focus.

“If you ever give me the pleasure of your company, I'll show you how bad we can be.” He winked at her, leaving her standing still in the hallway. It was Nesta who found her, looking at nothing, frozen in place as her chest sparkled with life, like she was taking her first breath of fresh air after getting out of her father’s dungeon. As she was finally free.

She kicked the covers away from her body, not caring about her clothing as she winnowed away. It was him, he was what was troubling her so much. She just needed to ask him to stop whatever this was and she would go back to normal. The shadows covered her as she sneaked through the Autumn Manor.

Everything was pitch black, and she just followed the shadows, taking her to the only illuminated room. She pushed the door open, spotting Eris by the bed, looking in a small mirror as he stitched a very ugly wound in his chest. His eye was purple and his lips were bruised.

“Who did this to you?” She breathed, her hands shaking in anger, how could someone do it to another being? She saw how cruel people could be and she dedicated her time to protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves.

“What are you doing here?” He asked startled, dropping the mirror from his hands and wincing in pain. Surprised to see her there, and even more curious to know why she was there.

“I came here to talk to you.” She walked closer to her. “Here, let me help you.” Eris raised an eyebrow towards her, what was happening? She picked the needle from his hands, her warm skin brushing against his, it was a nice feeling. He didn’t say anything as her soft touch rested against his heart, while her other hand worked on closing the wound.

She finished the stitches, reaching for the bowl of water, taking the cloth and with one hand she lifted his chin, eyes locked together for a second. She started to work on the dried blood that smeared across his lips and nose. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch and letting her take care of him.

“What do you want to talk about that was so important that you invaded my room in the middle of the night?” He watched as she got away from him, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the corner of his room. She pulled her legs close to her chest.

“I wanted you to stop.” He leaned forward.

“Stop what exactly?” She took a deep breath.

“With your overwhelming feelings, it’s been a fucking trouble to me. But you’re clearly going through something, so if you ever need me, don’t hesitate to reach out.” Eris sneered.

“Why would I ever seek your help?” He watched as she got up, her expression serious as she held the doorknob.

“Because who’s better to help you than your own mate?” And with that she left.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Mate.

She was his mate. Her words got caught in his mind, she had no reason to lie to him. But he also had no reasons to believe her, he just did. He chose to believe that the female who came to him in the middle of the night and showed him more kindness than his own flesh and blood was telling the truth.

So when another round of torture was over, he winnowed to her house, he had memorized the address she had sent to him. He could barely hold himself together, so he almost collapsed on top of her as she opened the door. She looked like she had been crying as he managed to take a look at her face, and he wondered if it was his emotions that led to that.

“I didn’t know where else to come, and I didn't want to be alone.” She didn’t laugh nor mocked him, she just nodded and left the room. He could hear her, moving around in a hidden room, he wondered if she regretted offering him shelter.

All the doubts died down in his throat when she came back, leaning to help him stand, guiding the way towards a bathroom. She sat him in her toilet and helped him out of his clothes. He sank in the water, trying to ignore the fact that he had to be naked in front of her, she looked like she was trying her best to ignore it as well.

“I put some numbing herbs, to help with the pain.” He nodded, feeling very thankful for her kindness. “And I have some of Azriel’s clothes here if you don’t mind. Yours are very dirty and could infect your wounds.”

“I would like that, thank you.” She nodded, getting out of the room and only appearing again to drop the clothes. Eris sighed, feeling his body relax and his wounds starting to close. As the water got cold, he got out. He felt weird wearing the Shadowsinger’s clothes but nothing about this situation was usual for him.

“I figured you’re probably hungry.” She placed a plate in front of him, no one had ever taken that much care of him before. “I didn’t cook it, Feyre told me it's a way of accepting the bond.” She smiled and he could swear that all the pain and sadness was lifted from his chest with that bright smile directed to him.

“Yeah, we don’t want you accepting this bond by accident.” Why would she want to accept a life tied to him?

“Yeah, we have to get to know each other first.” She giggled, taking a bite of her own food. “You don’t even know my favourite colour!” Eris laughed, feeling the sound reverberate through his chest, how long it was since he truly laughed with someone?

“Do you plan on accepting?” He asked, testing the waters.

“To be honest, I think about it, but as I said. First we get to know each other, we think about the bond later.” Eris nodded.

“Does your family know?” He dared to ask, assuming that they didn’t, or else Azriel would have already threatened him.

“They do!” He looked at her in shock. “They weren’t happy at first, but they respect my choice.”

“Did you tell them?” He gestured towards himself and her smile faded.

“Your secret is safe with me, it’s not my story to tell.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Thank you, for everything.” She smiled again.

“Nothing to thank me for.” He grabbed her hand, rubbing circles with his thumb.

“I have everything to thank you for, you just don’t know it.” They finished the meal and she got up to do the dishes, he quickly pushed her away. “It’s the least I can do.” She nodded.

“I’ll get the guest room ready for you then.” That night Eris slept like he hadn't slept in ages, soaking in the comfort of her home and her affection.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Her fingers started to shake, and that wave of anxiety came, as overwhelming as ever, it has been a whole month that she didn’t feel it, but Eris still came up to her beaten every week, she knew he was holding back his pain for her. But today, it was just as unbearable as it was when he didn’t know about it.

She gritted her teeth, clenching her fists under the table. The dinner went nicely, everyone engaged in conversations and smiling. She couldn’t ruin it, not again. But it was too late, as tears started to stream down her face.

“Are you okay?” Gwyn asked. Concern lacing her delicate features. Y/N shook her head, a scream ripping past her lips and scaring the whole family, Azriel was by her side in a second, tending to her.

“What’s wrong?” It wasn’t pain that filled her veins tonight, it was anger. The house shook with her power. She screamed in rage, if she didn’t act now, he was going to get killed. She grabbed the truth teller away from her brother.

“This ends tonight.” She announced before she winnowed away. The pain guided her, towards mouldy walls and putrid floors, the smell of blood making the air rancid.

He groaned, the pointy blade opening his flesh as it was dragged across his skin. He tried to hold back his pain but it was too much tonight, the ash in the weapon making everything more painful. He tried to hang on for her, for the life he wanted to have with her, for everything they haven’t lived yet. But it was too painful to keep going.

The cell door was forced open, with unruly hair, wet and red cheeks, holding a blade in her hands, his guardian angel came. The blade being pushed into Beron’s neck, blood splattering against her face. She pushed the blade to the side, Beron’s head being detached from his neck, his lifeless body collapsing to the floor.

“Hey! Open your eyes.” She demanded, kneeling in front of him, cradling his face in between her hands, and in that moment, the bond in his chest sang with life, welcoming her unmistakable love for him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The first thing he saw was the black curtains of her guest room. And the looming presence of the Shadowsinger himself, watching him intently. His body didn’t hurt anymore, all that was left was the warming feeling of the bond alongside his soul.

“Where is she?” He asked, sitting straight up in bed, his muscles felt tingly from being in the same position for long.

“She’s out in town, getting some things.” Azriel sat in the chair facing the bed. “How are you feeling, Eris?” True concern filled his voice.

“I’m fine, she saved me.” He could never forget this.

“Use this gift she gave you to make her the happiest female alive.” Azriel said, and Eris knew this was the closest of his blessing he would ever get. “Keep her safe.”

“With my life.” The male promised. A door opened somewhere and her soothing voice filled the room.

“I’m home!” She announced, and it took her a few minutes to go to his room, pushing the door open, she watched him. Blinking the tears before rushing to him, jumping on top of him. He held her, and he felt her lips pressed on his. His heart beated faster, as he retributed her kiss.

“Hey, stop that, that’s gross.” Azriel groaned, and she parted their kiss, laughing to her brother from Eris’s lap.

“You’re no fun.” She complained, showing him his middle finger. He rolled his eyes and left the room. “What do we do now?” She asked, but Eris didn’t want to think about the chaos that awaited for him at home, so he looked her in the eyes, sending all the love he could down the bond and asked.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

#acotar #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #night court #velaris #high lord eris #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x y/n #eris x you #acotar fanfic

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etoilesbienne · 3 months

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re: boundaries

I've made many posts previously on this subject already, so people are already aware of my stance regarding disliking the way "boundaries" as a concept are used by the mcyt fandom, however I want to have a brief meditation on why this is the case, and a look at common arguments about them.

however i do want to make clear that i don't mind boundaries as a concept, actual boundaries. as in "if you do x, i will respond with y" kinds of boundaries. I think cc are completely fair and understandable in this kind of perspective. if someone makes a kind of content they dislike, they're free to block that fan or express discomfort over it. That's normal.

my critical eye is turned toward the fandom's perception of "boundaries" as a sort of fandom ruleset, either you follow them with the in-group, or you're thrown in the out-group and labelled all sorts of insults, anywhere from a criminal offender to just having people be plain nasty toward you. this in my opinion, really feeds into the fandom habit of having "cliques" as fandoms are social networks that are voluntarily joined. i find it juvenile at best.

at worst, on the other hand, is the concept of mcyt having mixed in kpop stan culture around 2019 with smplive (great server. horrific fandom at the time it was run. all of the smplive fans still left are veterans worthy of respect for surviving that.), which caused a very explosive mixture.

kpop fandom has this outlook and parasociality toward idols because these idols are borderline unreachable. even in smaller groups, companies generally (not always.) discourage idols from talking one-on-one selectively with fans. there deserves to be a more thorough examination of kpop fandom with stan culture, that i believe i am not fully qualified for. my point is that kpop idols are a hell of a lot harder to reach for english fans, whether through language barrier or through professionality done by companies.

the explosive mixture is bringing this same mentality - the mentality that these people you look toward as the main source of the fandom as being untouchable, perfect people. it's dehumanizing in its own right, but aside from that, it creates a dangerous fandom situation. as best shown using smplive with CallMeCarson from before.

CMC is the origin point of boundaries within the MCYT fandom, having held a live in fall of 2019 talking about how a popular danganronpa themed wattpad smplive fanfiction was upsetting for him to read. CMC had an intense fanbase that could and would look up to him no matter what. of course the fanbase would go after and harass this author off of the internet and deleting their work (which remained lost media until this January of 2024. Almost half a decade.) after this situation, only months later it comes out that CMC had in fact been manipulating women aged 17 to early 20s, into sexual dms and sending him explicit photos of themselves for around a year. i am of the opinion CMC would have done this behavior regardless, however, the fact he had access to so many women who put him on a pedestal without considering he could exploit them was exacerbated by the stan culture mentality of mcyt's fandom at the time. this is not a criticism of the women, it is a criticism of the fandom culture of the time for failing to treat carson as a human being who had every capability to treat people like this.

no cc is exempt from that mentality by the fandom. carson knowingly used his position within the fandom to make the choice to do that to those girls. no cc should be exempt from the real possibility of the consideration that they can fuck up, not always in the way that they necessarily need to be cancelled or deplatformed, carson is an extreme example that is absolutely not representative of cc as a whole, but there needs to be a healthy level of doubt and separation between creators and fans.

to reiterate: cc are not your friends. cc do not need you to speak for them. you do not know these people personally. to present your defense of them and their personal opinions like you spoke to them directly and are close friends is dangerous, both for yourself, and for other fans in the community.

everything i have listed is why i always will be critical toward any fan group or clique that presents themselves as being pillars of the community, and why i am critical of any page or resource that tries to list "boundaries" as hard fast rules to be self policed by the fandom. not only is that punitive mentality, it's careless and poor understanding of how communities at large work.

i don't think a "boundaries" list is necessarily a bad idea in the long run either, if these lists were, like, compilations of streamers' twitch chat rules, that'd be cool! but generally these lists lack any nuance of why and where some boundaries may apply. like a ton of streamers hate ships being spammed in chat, but could give less of a fuck about people making ship fanart. or like wouldn't care as long as the ship art isn't put in their main tag.

as well as the general ignoring of regular boundaries, we all remember the horror show of people dono-ing to cc in 2020-22 asking for their boundaries right? like just so we're explicitly clear, walking up to someone and asking what someone's opinion of making adult content of them is very much sexual harassment. that's objectively something fans should not be asking to cc. if they want to say something, they can speak up on their own. they do not need your prompting. if you wouldn't ask it to your boss in an office, don't ask cc it. tangentially related is the ignoring of boundaries based on disliking fans harassing each other or other cc. those boundaries never get to be prioritized for a reason, as those behaviors feed into the stan culture mentality of pitting sources against each other in fan wars.

parasociality and stan culture turn mcyt fandom into a power vacuum where fans who like to self-police to a dangerous extent try to take charge. this makes the fandom worse.

#ive had this in my drafts for months might as well drop this now LOL #discourse #mcyt discourse #posts from the aether

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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months

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Genuine advice for people who joined the Batfam fandom because of fan content and are too scared to get into actual comics or not sure where to start:Please don't buy a single word 'Fuck canon!' people tell you about ANY Batfam member and i do mean ANY.They're lying to you to get you to sanatize them and deprive you of deserving to know what they're actually like because their peabrains can't process multilayered characters and relathionships in favor of bigoted stereotypes and writing that's insanely insulting to them and if you're a minor especially,they're lying to you about whatever they say about shipping the male members with eachother not being in*cest or ped0 too-Bruce has been Dick's adoptive dad since Dick's debut issue,he legally adopted Jason and Duke too,Damian's his bio kid and with Tim it's a bit more complicated but it's very much canon that they see eachother as father and son and Tim has lived at Wayne Manor at several points in canon and would be brothers regardless of anything else due to this but they also use that exact word to describe their dynamic and so does everybody else

This applies to Cass being their sister too because Bruce adopted her after they formed a dad-daughter bond a while into her being Batgirl but as Stephanie has a mom she lives with and has never seen Bruce as a parental figure nor he her as one of his kids,you're freegame to ship her with Tim or Cass and in fact i highly encourage doing both.Batfanon stans are once again doing mass lying(damn they should get a different hobby)by saying the four male Robins are the 'core' ones.Stephanie has been included in Robin stuff for a long time now and Duke dosen't get the same treatment due to antiblackness so THAT'S an actual 'Fuck canon!' moment so you should make it six Robins and know that the intention with only four is always misogyny and whitewashing(also just saying but those fanarts are always ugly anyway,they make them look like shitty anime boys instead of themselves)

Dick is an almost perfect eldest sibling and the other Batkids deeply appreciate him for it,he was Tim's Robin and him and Cass are his favorite siblings,Duke is Jason's favorite brother and vice versa but he's also extremely close to Cass,none of them make Damian go through 'normal youngest sibling treatment' because none of them are normal so they grew a sense of basic decency and Damian's closest to Dick and Stephanie and Stephanie's a canon csa victim so kindly keep your paws off her with your 'date all of your s/os siblings' jokes because she has self-worth and class,thanks

Ignore the original Red Hood and The Outlaws run and anything to do with Jason and Roy friendship in fandom and read the original Teen Titans run,New Teen Titans,Arsenal 1998,The Titans 1999,Green Arrow 2001 and Outsiders 2003 if you want to understand Roy too or at least ask around blogs centered on him for context.Ignore Tom Taylor's Nightwing run and Teen Titans 2003 and Batgirl of Burnside and anything by Devin Grayson(she's quite literally done irreperable damage to Batman lore and i wish i was kidding).Read Robin 1993,90s Young Justice,Batgirl 2000,Batgirl 2009,Red Robin,Son of Batman and literally everything Duke's in which i can provide a reading list for instead and i'm working on a megapost of all the Jason media that's actually good so new fans don't waste their time.I'm genuinely saying this to be helpful because 'fandom isn't activism' is a puratical priviliged phrase that should've never existed just like Batfanon shouldn't either

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battydora · 8 months

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Hashiras when they want to have sex with you but you are on your period (minus Muichiro & Iguro). —♡

masterlist | pinned post | rules

characters: tomioka giyuu , kocho shinobu , tengen uzui (+ wives) , rengoku kyojuro , mitsuri kanroji , shinazugawa sanemi , himejima gyomei

content: nsfw , gn. reader (afab) , adult reader!! , minors dni!! , period comfort , period sex , vaginal sex , unprotected sex , fingering , cunnilingus , implied size kink (gyomei) , brief references to the manga (giyuu)

note: iguro stans, i had the hardest time trying to write for him and i swear i couldn't i'm so sorry 😭. also shinobu's is so short damn, sorry i wrote that a year ago

—Giyuu

being extremely honest, i think giyuu would be clueless about menstruation, he knew about it by briefly recalling the times her sister would complain superficially about it but he would need a whole explanation to understand, so you explain it to him to reassure him that you're okay and that you might need some things from him every now and then. when it comes to sex, he wouldn't be so sure to keep going if you're on your period but after he slides into you for the first time while you're menstruating, he'd find himself feeling more comfortable fucking you than any usual day, the blood and slickness of your cunt feels so unbelievably good he lets out a loud moan when he fits it all in. beyond the mess you may make, you two will have a lot of fun, giyuu moaning sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how good and comfortable you feel around his cock. he may get carried away just a little but expect great aftercare.

—Shinobu

she wouldn't mind at all! she takes things as usual and wouldn't mind not even a little bit fingering you while you're having your period, she knows how sensitive you become when this time of the month arrives so she'll have you begging for more. you will no more feel ashamed of having your period thanks to shinobu.

—Tengen (+ wives)

the man has three wives, i would be so disappointed if he doesn't know at least SOMETHING about menstruation. he treats you with care and softness all through the act, he comes out to be one of the most romantic among all hashiras. "i know babe, i know" he whispers as he slides in you, your whole body tenses when he fits it all in, moaning softly. hinatsuru let's your head rest on her lap as makio and suma sit beside you, holding your hands and casually caressing your skin. "you're doing so well, sweetheart" hina mumbles softly, sliding her hands up and down from your neck to your chest. an odd satisfaction washes over tengen at the view of his cock being painted red as he thrusts into you back and forth, holding your legs up and wide open, moving ever so kind and careful of your sensitive body "god, i wish i could rail the hell out of you, but i'll be kind, angel." you're in heaven.

—Kyojuro

"shh, it's okay my love i got you, keep going". kyojuro is the sweetest, he's so needy when he's horny but will be so so gentle and sweet with you when you're on your period. he sits you on his naked thigh and makes you straddle it, he wants you to come to friction alone, he helps you stay on place by holding your hips firmly. however the view of his leg getting soaked red and the slick and wet sounds from your moves make him hornier than he thought, also having you almost bouncing on top of him didn't help much and by the end of the session you're laying on your back, legs spread open and kyojuro rubbing his hard cock against your blood stained folds without really penetrating you, soaking his dick with your juices and rubbing it's length against your clit, enjoying the noises you and your pretty cunt make. "s-sorry, love... you look so good like this... fuck i'm so turned on..."

—Kanroji

"kanroji..." you moaned, breathless, as you threw your head back in the chair you're sitting. you refused to look down the table you had infront of you, you were trying so hard to keep your composure as your skirt was up/your pants were down and kanroji had her face buried between your legs, giving you the day of your life. mitsuri did not even hesitate to kneel down beneath you the moment you told her you were horny for her. you tried to stop her by telling her you were on your period and that it was okay if she didn't want to do it like that. she looked at you with a shocked expression but then smiled warmly yet seductively at you "then i'm going to make a mess down here~" a dangerous combination of cute and hot were settled in her words, you weren't ready for the wonders her mouth was capable of.

—Sanemi

"ngh, stop moving, you're making a mess" he growls, the two fingers curling inside your cunt are making you quiver and jolt. sanemi is... a bitch. he knows how sensitive you become on your period so he really doesn't miss the chance to tease and overstimulate you. but of course, his words may be mean most of the time but contradictory to his actions, you will find sanemi being one of the most careful among the hashiras, he always checks your facial expressions, your body language, 100% self-aware while finger fucking you in case he notices you're getting so many intense cramps you might need to stop. "does it feel good, babe? yeah? good because we ain't stopping. no, i don't want to hear your excuses. i'm gonna get this through."

—Gyomei

himejima is far from being disgusted by this, he is a man entirely determined to please you no matter the circumstances. when you tell him you're on the mood but warn him about being on your period, he remains silent for a bit, before leaning to you in bed, cornering you against the bed with his enormous figure, resting his big hand gently on your hip, sliding to caress the soft skin of your belly reassuringly. "love of mine, i am unbothered, if there is anything i can do to take you to your pleasure, just tell me, i will get you there, no matter the circumstances." his words are warm enough to make you melt, a rush of love and excitement runs through your body and you grab the wrist of the hand touching you. he allows you to lead his hand wherever you desired, sliding it only a few centimeters until it landed between your legs, he understands immediately but waits until you speak again, his hand only presses ever so slightly on your clothed sex and your only reaction is let out a soft whimper, you can't control it your body is so sensitive it responds to his touch immediately. gyomei blushes in delight and so do you, in embarassment "touch me, please... use your hands to make me cum, i need it so bad..." he doesn't need any more words before start working on your pussy over your underwear, staining his hand and any other part of him you wished just to please you.

thanks for reading!

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jungshookz · 11 months

Text

apparently y/n's really good with toddlers and jimin thinks it's adorable

➺ pairing; balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n

➺ genre; alright balletteacher!jimin stans since the last update was.,,. uh,., anyway here’s some pre-breakupfluff!! actually idk if this is going to make u guys more sad knowing how that last drabble ended but this one is super cute so at least you have that <3 i’m FINALLY appeasing u with balletteacher!jimin content

➺ wordcount; 2.3k

➺ summary; all the teeny ballerinas seem to gravitate towards y/n for some reason and it’s taking everything within jimin to not spend the entire class just watching her fondly.

➺ what to expect; “oops, i dropt my swipper again.”

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

when jimin first got the email from saying that he had to take over the toddler’s ballet class for a day because the teacher for that class called in sick at the very last minute and he was the only one whose schedule lined up perfectly with the toddler’s class, needless to say, he wasn’t very happy

it’s not that he hates children or anything horrible like that (he really doesn’t understand people who say that they hate children) — don’t get him wrong, he loves when random babies wave at him on the street and he’ll even go as far as to make a face at them if their parents aren’t watching — it’s just that he’s literally never taught a toddler ballet class before so he doesn’t even know where to start… and he also doesn’t know how far he can push them before he’s being accused of being a horrible, mean teacher

though it would be fairly impressive on his end if they were able to do grand jetés by the end of class

“i’m so happy we get to play with toddlers all day!” lisa squeals, plopping herself down next to you as you continue your morning stretches in front of the mirror, “aren’t you excited??”

“i think it’ll be fun!” you smile, nodding in agreement before shrugging, “i’m a little nervous because i literally have never interacted with a child other than my little cousins, and they’re like eight to nine years old now, so i’m out of practice…”

“it’s okay, y/n,” you feel a harsh pat on your shoulder and you look up to see seulgi smiling sweetly at you, “not all of us can be good at everything. you keep the class humble.”

“very funny, seulgi.” you grumble, rolling your eyes before turning to look back at lisa, “i’m just glad we kinda get a day off because we have to help mr. park teach the toddlers. i don’t know about you but i am not in the mood to do any pirouettes this morning.” you huff, adjusting your leg warmers before checking out your reflection in the mirror to make sure you look okay

you also feel a little groggy because you didn’t get much sleep last night

you spent the night at jimin’s and then he drove you back to your place early (because lisa texted and said she’d come over in the morning to have breakfast with you before the two of you zipped over to the studio so you had to go home otherwise she’d be wondering where the hell else you’d be)

“do you think i should’ve worn the sheep-patterned leg warmers instead? i feel like toddlers would be more receptive to sheeps-“ for some reason you feel like you’re trying to impress the toddlers even though they probably don’t even know what leg warmers are and even if they did they couldn’t care less about them

you were going to wear your sweatpants but you got a new pair of leg warmers and you wanted to show them off (they’re baby pink with little black bows on the back of them), so you decided to pair them with your black leotard, a matching black wrap cardigan, and your stockings of course

“ah, i just love kids,” lisa sighs, getting up from the ground as you get up as well before looping her arm with yours, “and i don’t know about you, but seeing mr. park interact with kids is also something that i’m very much looking forward to.”

you feel a wide grin growing on your face at the reminder that yes, you’re finally going to see jimin interacting with cute little kids and you remind yourself to keep it cool

you and jimin only started dating a few weeks ago and you don’t want to scare him off by getting all baby crazy

you don’t even know if jimin wants kids

…

does he want kids?

and if he does, would he want to have them with you? because you certainly wouldn’t mind carrying his beautiful children and-

“oh my god, they’re so cute!”

the room erupts into high pitched coos and squeals when the toddlers, well, toddle into the room, all of them dressed in matching baby pink cardigans and leotards and chiffon skirts with stockings on their little legs and neat little slicked back buns on their little heads and it doesn’t take long for you to fall in love with all of them because oh my god they’re so cute and you just want to eat their chubby little cheekies and gobble them up and rRRaAWOOF-

“ladies, here are our little guests for the day,” jimin laughs lightly, shutting the door behind him quietly as he gently nudges the little ones towards the group like a herd of little baby sheep, “there are twenty-four of them and twelve of you, so if you could each take two for the day, that would be wonderful- oh!” jimin pauses when he accidentally bumps into one of the girls and he reaches down to pat her head, “sorry honey, mr. park is a little clumsy today and you’re just so small-“

“oh god, i can’t take it-“ lisa groans quietly, holding a hand over her mouth as she muffles a squeal and starts to bounce on the balls of her feet excitedly, “i can’t take it i can’t take it i can’t take it that is so stinking cute-“

“what are we supposed to do, do we just grab two random ones and go?” seulgi asks with a frown and you can’t help but snort because that is such a seulgi thing to ask

“don’t grab two of them and go, this isn’t a drive through-“ you chuckle, watching as the other girls disperse into the crowd of teeny ballereenies to collect their two for the day, “you just have to go and see which ones vibe with you, i think. which might be hard for you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“well, all children know that they need to stay away from the wicked witch of the west- OW-“ you yelp when seulgi delivers a hard punch to your arm before taking off

it’s only in that moment you notice one of the little girls in the back, wide-eyed and holding onto both her slippers, looking as lost as ever

she stumbles forward as the other girls start shuffling forwards slightly, all the toddlers clearly a little intimidated by all of you

you make your way over to her and she immediately looks up at you, her lips parting slightly

“hi! do you need some help with your slippers?” you crouch down so that you’re eye-level with her and she nods shyly before averting her gaze, “okay, i can help you. i’m y/n. what’s your name?” you stand back up before holding your hand out for her and she wraps her hand around two of your fingers, trailing behind you as you lead her to a free corner in the room

“mia.”

“mia’s a very pretty name,” you smile, looking down at her (from your angle, you can see her little cheeks protruding out slightly and it’s just so cute)

“i dropt my swipper.” mia suddenly stops in her tracks and you stop as well, letting her bend down to pick up her slipper only for the other one to fall onto the ground, “oops, i dropt my swipper again.”

you and lisa make eye contact from across the room and she pushes her bottom lip out in a pout before scrunching her face and putting a hand over her chest and you make the same expression in return to tell her that oh my god, i know, right?!

“alright, miss mia, do you wanna sit down for me?” you hum, sitting down cross-legged before patting your lap, “it’ll be easier for me to put your slippers on if you’re sitting.”

mia nods before plopping herself down on your lap and you nearly let out a coo when you notice how teeny weeny her slippers are

they’re just so cute! and they’re basically the size of your hand!!!!!!

“how old are you, mia?” you ask, taking her slippers from her before lifting one of her chubby little legs up so you can put a slipper on

“thwee.” she holds four fingers up and you giggle, reaching over to put one of them down for her, “i’m thwee.” she kicks her legs slightly, sticking the one with the slipper up into the air before wiggling her toes

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

jimin smiles to himself as he looks around the room, feeling weirdly proud at how well all of you are looking after the little ones even though his teaching has nothing to do with how good you guys are with kids

he started the class off with a few warm-up exercises and was very impressed at how well the little girls followed his lead (to be honest he’s already picked out the ones that would survive in his class when they’re older, and it’s definitely not the one that started twirling around in ditzy, uncoordinated circles when he asked everyone to get into third position), and it’s only been about twenty minutes but according to the schedule given to him, they take ten minute breaks every twenty minutes which seems a little too lax for his liking, but then again — he’s not a teacher for toddlers, so who is he to say what’s right and what’s wrong?

and he has to admit that it was hard to not watch you the entire time you were guiding your girls and showing them how to do everything properly (“demi-plie, mia! keep your back straight just like me…”)

at first he was going to tell you off because you were kneeled on the ground while he was teaching up front but then he realized you were only doing it so you could help the little ones with positioning their feet, and not to mention, you weren’t just helping your own two ballereenies, you were helping whichever ones were around you which was just… so nice to see

and perhaps the others will suspect him of favouritism because he’s pretty sure lisa caught him staring fondly at you at one point but it’s not like anyone would ever confront him about it so he’s really not too worried

“and at home, i- i do- um, i do, um, dance evewywhere and my favouwite- favouwite song is wet it go from fwozen because anna and elsa-“

“speaking of let it go- emma, you better let go of my bun before you yank my hair off my head!”

jimin’s ears perk up in interest when he hears your voice among the many voices and squeals and giggles in the room and he turns around, eyes scanning the room until he finally lands on you to see you surrounded by six of the baby ballerinas

you’ve got one of them sitting on your lap with her hand buried in a pack of animal crackers (none of them brought snacks with them so he’s assuming those came from you), one of them with their arms slung over you from behind and her cheek pressed to your shoulder, three of them sitting cross-legged around you, and the last one prancing around you chatting away excitedly

you wrap your arm securely around the one sitting on your lap, reaching down to smooth some of her hair back before leaning over a little to look at her and ask if she’s alright, and she nods in response before holding a cracker up for you to take

jimin feels his heart skip a beat at the adorable sight because he was certainly not aware of how good you are with children

he can’t help but chuckle when he notices you showing off your leg warmers off

so cute

so, so cute

his eyes widen when you look up and immediately lock gazes with him only for you to wave at him shyly before returning your attention to the girls after jimin returns a smile and a wave of his own

you and y/n would make a really cute baby, the intrusive voice in his head tells him as his arm drops back to his side, and jimin finds his cheeks flushing slightly at the thought of a teeny little y/n trailing behind him like a little duckling

he could dress her up in her ballet clothes and put bows in her hair and train her to become the best ballerina the world has ever seen and she’d have your hair and eyes and his nose and mouth and she’d be so sweet and kind like you but strong and tenacious like him

and not to sound like a hormonal boy or anything but the process of baby-making seems like it’d be very fun

…

“mr. park, y/n’s stealing all the kids!” jimin looks over when he hears seulgi whining and he resists the urge to snort at how huffy she’s being, “i took two of them like you told us to but all of them are like, gravitating towards y/n for some reason-“

“well, i guess there’s just something about y/n that they like, seulgi.” jimin responds with a shrug, keeping his eyes glued on you with a fond smile twitching at the corner of his mouth

🎙️ ask y/n where she gets her leg warmers (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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holylulusworld · 6 months

Text

Dishonored

Title: Dishonored

Summary: You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace.

Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader; Lord Barnes x Princess!Reader (no polyamory)

Warnings: heavy angst (I’m not joking), lies, manipulation, hurting people for revenge, implied loss of innocence, unwanted/unplanned pregnancy, Steve being the worst, sadness, hopelessness, desperation, suicidal tendency/suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, fluff, we stan Bucky in this story

Rating: Mature

Words: 2,7 k

Square filled for @anyfandomfluffbingo: Square 9: “I never loved you.”

Square filled for Lulu’s Winter Bingo 2022: Square 4: Winter

Square filled for @steverogersbingo: C3: Free space – Royal AU

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C2: Sharing body heat

Please heed the warnings for this story. It contains triggering content such as attempted suicide.

You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace.

How do you move on when your honor and grace get ripped away by the man who promised you love and devotion?

He lured you in – sweet-talked you into giving him the one thing you cherished the most. Your honor and innocence. Reserved for your future husband, and the man loving you unconditionally.

Lies. All lies.

It was a moment of weakness making you stumble and fall. Into his bed. Into his arms.

He took you apart, gentle, and slow. A miracle to you when you think about the aftermath.

A few months earlier, your father’s castle

“I can't believe Prince Steven came to woo me,” you mumbled to yourself. The prince arrived earlier this morning and you hoped your dreams would come true. You always felt a deep connection to the prince, and now, he’s here to talk to your father.

“Princess!” Your chambermaid scolded. “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold! Your father called for you. He wants you to meet Prince Steven. He will stay at the castle for a few weeks until he travels to his uncle’s castle.”

Your face fell. He came here to sit out the approaching snowstorm, nothing else.

How could you have been foolish enough to believe he came to ask for your hand?

“I’m…coming,” you tried to not cry. All your hopes and dreams ended up on the ground - shattered and torn. “We cannot let our guest wait.”

“Father,” you stepped confidently toward your father to peck his cheek. He was always soft on you, and let you break a few rules. Especially when it came to etiquette. You’re his little thunderstorm, a wild child with a bright mind and softness that’s hard to find among royals. “I heard we have a guest.”

“He’ll be here in a minute,” the king softly said. He ran his hand over your hair and patted your head. “I need you on your best behavior. I angered the prince, and we don’t want him to tell his father the king about it.”

You wrinkled your forehead. “What? I don’t understand,” you whispered so no one could hear. Your father is one of the kindest people you know. How could he possibly anger the prince?

“Your Highness,” Steven walked inside the throne room, accompanied by his best friend, and confident Lord Barnes. The brunette watched you with interest while the prince’s eyes drifted toward your brother and his fiancé, Lady Margaret Carter. “I see the princess will join us for supper.”

“Your Highness,” you turned your attention toward the prince. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again. It’s been too long.”

Steven eagerly took your offered hand to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for having me.”

“Lord Barnes,” you smiled at the brunette. Last time you saw him he was reading a book in the garden, chuckling at something he read. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. The library is always open for you.”

“Princess,” Lord Barnes smiled wildly. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Oh…my…you are too kind, Lord Barnes,” you replied gracefully and batted your eyelashes. “It’s always a pleasure having you around.”

Supper was more than pleasant. Lord Barnes kept the conversation flowing while the prince watched you the whole time. He complimented you and raised his glass on your beauty and grace.

You were surprised. His eyes seemed to be glued to your brother and his fiancé. Out of a sudden Prince Steven turned his attention toward you. He even stopped his friend from talking to you.

Your cheeks heated up, and you felt warm when he placed his hand next to yours, subtly brushing your pinkie with his finger.

It was the first time he was so close, and you allowed yourself to bask in his attention for as long as it lasted.

The next days felt like a dream come true. Steven asked you to spend time with him and go for a walk in the gardens. For propriety's sake, a chaperon accompanied you and Steven. But you didn’t care at all.

The moments spent with the prince were the best of your life. He made you smile, and laugh and your heart flutter.

All that mattered to you was his smile, his soft blue eyes, and the way he looked at you. It was the same way your father looked at your father and your brother at his chosen bride.

“I wish these days will never end,” you dared to hope Steven would say the same.

He took you by surprise when he replied. “Even if they end,” he looked you deep in the eyes, leaning a little closer to whisper, “I’ll always come back to you."

The prince was about to press a soft kiss on your forehead when your chaperone stepped in.

“Your Highness, please do not forget you are wooing for a princess, not a wench. Remember your manners,” she tutted. “We should head back inside. It’s getting colder, and I can smell the snow.”

Marjorie, your chaperone was right. Winter came faster than expected, accompanied by a snowstorm that wouldn’t let up.

The whole country was suffering from the cold weather and the snow masses.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The snowstorm and unforgiving winter kept Steven and Lord Barnes from leaving your castle.

You didn’t mind. Most of the time you spend with Steven, chatting about his kingdom, childhood, and love.

Yes. Love.

You held hands, and when your chaperone wasn’t looking, he even stole kisses. Steven promised you that love is the most precious thing to protect in this world.

He played you well, you give him that.

Your heart couldn’t take being apart from Steven for a single moment. So, you gave him everything you had to offer, and what he was craving.

On one of these cold winter nights, you let him sneak into your bedroom, and take you to bed. He kissed you, and when he settled between your thighs you believed he would make you his wife and love you forever.

When it was over, he smirked, and his eyes grew cold. Your heart dropped as he hastily redressed. “Steven, what are you doing?”

“My plan went well, didn’t it?” He looked at you, making you feel ashamed of yourself. You grabbed the blanket to cover your body. The one he ruined with his touch.

“I don’t understand, Steven. My love. What has gotten into you? You said you love me.” You cried as he looked at you, wrinkling his nose at your disheveled state.

“I never loved you,” he coldly replied. “Your father forced the woman I love to marry your brother,” he sneered and curled his lips. “I stole his beloved daughter’s innocence. What will he do if he finds out you are carrying my bastard under your heart?”

“Steven, I don’t…” Your voice trembled. “Why? I…”

“I came here to ask your father to stop this insanity and let me marry Margaret. I love her dearly. He refused and wanted to send me away.”

You remember now. Your father told you that he upset Steven.

“But…she came here, begging my father to help her. She wanted to marry my brother. Margaret wasn’t my father’s first choice. Some princesses and ladies were more beautiful and with a better reputation. He agreed because she was in love with my brother and threatened to kill herself if he didn’t allow her to marry my brother.”

“What?” He looked a little shell-shocked at your words but shook his head. “Lies!” Steven yelled, making you flinch. “Shut your mouth, wench. Never talk about Margaret like that again.”

He left without looking back and slammed the door shut. Leaving you devasted, heartbroken, and ruined.

After that night, he never looked at you. He declared that he was going to stay at the guest wing until it was time to leave.

One month later, …

Hopelessness is the only thing left in your life. You can feel a new life growing in your womb. Every passing day brings you closer to doomsday.

Soon you won’t be able to hide the secret. Soon everyone will know you got dishonored.

Foolish girl letting a man take what should have never been his.

You run your hand over your belly, choking out another sob. If you want to save what’s left of your honor, you must take matters into your own hands.

Shakily you glance at the balcony parapet again. If you do it now, you can save your honor, and your father’s.

Stepping toward the parapet you release a shuddery breath.

What if it’s not high enough? What if you survive? What if they ask questions?

“No,” you step away from the parapet. This is the wrong way to go. You must let it look like an accident. Or maybe, if you can find someone selling you a potion, you can end your life painlessly and fast.

The river looked inviting to you. You look at the floating water, fascinated by its power and grace.

Once upon a time, you were gracefully too.

That was until your grace and innocence got ripped away from you like it meant nothing to him. “If I step into the river, it will be over soon. Maybe they will believe it was an accident. I slipped and fell into the river.”

Slowly, you stepped toward the water, closing your eyes for a moment. This was the only way to save your honor. The water would wash away the sin you committed and take your secret with it.

You took another step, and another until you felt the cold water kiss your feet. “Cold.” You whispered but walked farther into the water, feeling it tug at your gown. “It will be over soon, my little stardust.” You rubbed your belly. “I’m so sorry.”

The water surrounded you, almost reaching your waistline as you heard someone call for you. “Princess! NO!”

It was Lord Barnes. His heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw you in the river. He knew something was wrong with the way his friend acted out of a sudden.

“Nooo!” You heard the water splashing and then, two strong arms wrapped around you like anchors holding you in this world. “What are you doing, princess.”

“I cannot…he dishonored me,” you choked out a heartbreaking sob. “I cannot remain. No man will want me. Not after he took my innocence and…the baby…it will be a bastard.”

Lord Barnes stiffened when the words floated out of your mouth like the water in the river. He couldn’t believe his friend and confidant would do such a thing to you for revenge.

“My love. No,” he dragged you out of the water, and wrapped you in his arms, letting you cry in his chest until there were no tears left in you. Lord Barnes said. “Stay with me, my love. I’ll keep you warm. We need to keep each other warm.”

“But I—” You lifted your head to look at him with tear-clouded eyes. “You should’ve let me die. Father will…”

“He won’t know. Not about what happened with Steven, nor what you did today. What a coincidence I came by when you slipped and fell into the river,” he whispered and kissed your temple. “I came back to ask for your hand, and to wed you in spring.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his words. “I’m…ruined. You don’t want me, or my bastard child.”

“I will love it like my own, my love,” he kissed your cheek. “You are not ruined, princess. Only a little broken. But we can fix this. I got my heart broken once too. We will heal together.”

“My lord, the babe…it’s not yours…I can’t…you can’t.”

“It’s cold, let’s head back to the castle and get you warm. I’ll call for a healer…”

“Not a word about her condition except for the cold,” Lord Barnes warned the healer. “If you say a word about the other thing,” he patted his sword, “you won’t be able to spend all the gold you’ll get.”

“Not a word,” the healer nodded and walked back inside your room.

“Marry my daughter?” Your father eyed Lord Barnes warily. He came back a few days after Prince Steven and he left the castle. Alone, and with a grim expression. “But…what about the prince?”

“He’s a foolish man, my king,” Lord Barnes growled. “He lost his heart one too many times to a pretty face. I cherish your daughter, her grace, and her kindness. If you allow me to woo her, I’ll be forever grateful. I’m not a prince but love her dearly.”

“She admires you too,” the king replied. “She talked about you, and that you love to read as much as she does. If my daughter agrees, I’ll agree on your bond.”

Lord Barnes didn’t wait until spring to wed you. He insisted on marrying you within another month.

You watched him with sad eyes as he desperately tried to fix his friend’s mistake.

“Lord Barnes, you can still find a better bride,” you took his hand to press a soft kiss on his knuckles. “I’m thankful that you tried to save my honor, but I cannot make you miserable for the rest of your life.”

“My love,” he whispered. “I fell for you the first time we met. If only I knew about Steven’s plans, I wouldn’t have stepped back and let him woo for you.”

“It’s not your fault, only mine,” you sniffled, and wiped your eyes. “I wasn’t raised to become a wench. I decided to let him do this to me…”

“Y/N, you’re not a w-.” He shook his head. “Never use that word again,” he angrily said. “He was the one stealing the light from you. You’re still an innocent angel.”

“I know that I’m not,” you hid your face in his shoulder, allowing yourself to let the mask you wear so well slip. “You’ll get damaged goods, my Lord.”

“Call me James, or Bucky, my love,” he gently rubbed your back. “I promise, you are far from damaged goods for me. You are going to be my wife and I’ll love you. And the babe will get all my love too. They are going to mine.”

“What a beautiful pair, don’t you think?” Your mother asked. “She looks happy, my love.”

Your father smiled wildly as he watched you and your groom share the first dance. You smiled and laughed as Bucky twirled you around.

“I was worried about our daughter for a while. Prince Steven’s departure left her heartbroken,” the king held out his hand for his wife. “Let us join them and celebrate their union.”

The queen smiled and took your father’s offered hand. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

A mother always knows when her child is in need.

She will never break her promise to herself and tell her husband that she saw you at the river when Lord Barnes saved you, or that she heard what you confessed.

“He is a good man, my love,” the queen whispered. “Our beloved daughter couldn't find a better man.”

While everyone celebrated your wedding and danced, Steven stood in a corner, watching you and his best friend happy together.

He squared his jaw and balled his hands into fists. His heart dropped watching Margaret and your brother join you on the dance floor.

Everything he did was in vain…

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers angst #bucky barnes #buckybarnesbingo2023 #steverogersbingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #prince!steve rogers #royal!bucky barnes #royal au #angst #tw: attempted suicide

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 5 months

Text

Pairing: Astarion x reader (Tav)

Prompt: Astarion wants to repay you for all the blood you share with him!

Description: There was an undeniable attraction between the two of you; Astarion could taste it on your skin before he took a bite, see it in the way you couldn't meet his eyes when you spoke to him. Perhaps you just needed him to push you in the right direction. He did owe you, after all.

Rating: sfw (ikr)

Word Count: 1869

Content Warnings: fem reader (use of she/her), reader is mentioned to be a cleric of selune but it's just a liddle bit, the first part is dub conish until Astarion Realizes (there's nothing crazy, they only get as far as removing clothing), ask to tag!

Notes: Okay this was originally supposed to be not sfw. right. I had this whole dub con scene planned out and it was gonna be so GOOD but. then I remembered I can't write nsfw (at least I can't do it quickly lol) so I decided to make a version where Astarion makes the right choice instead. I still have plans to write the original (I imagine you can find the part in this where I decided to go another direction lol) because as much as we stan a man who grows. I am also here for a guy who doesn't learn at all and perpetuates his own hurt and grief on to other people (me). Also wow I need to get more screenshots of Astarion...

That night, not too long ago. When your blood singed louder to him than anything had before. When you laid gently before him, not even stirring. Trusting your allies. Trusting him. It was all so intoxicating-- so much so, that he couldn’t help but take a bite.

Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was because you sensed him, or perhaps because something holy in you sensed something wretched in him. You awoke before Astarion could sink his teeth in you, before he could taste your sweet blood and feel your fleeting pulse under his fingertips.

He had expected a stake in a chest, the loss of this terrible life. What he hadn’t expected was your sympathy-- nor your understanding. No, when you invited him to dine on your blood (with such an adorable look on your face-- it’s a wonder he was the first to taste you), nearly let him kill you because you didn’t know how to tell him to stop-- it was a gift. One he truly hadn’t forgotten. Especially when, sweet as sugar, you invited him to drink of you again.

After all this, you deserved to be payed back! You had given him so much it was only fair Astarion share what he could with you. As it happened, the only currency he had was his body and you were being a little too stubborn to take his kindness.

“Astarion, really--” He had cornered you in your tent. Everyone else was asleep at this time of night, but not you, little adherent of the moon maiden. Your prayers had only just concluded as he invited himself in (a luxury he was sure to abuse now that he could).

“No darling, I insist.” He scoots in closer to you, chasing your warmth. “Let me make it up to you. I want you to feel as good as you make me feel.” His cool breath ghosts upon your skin, and he delights in the way your cheeks flare in the pale light of your candles.

“I’m just not sure about it.” You spare a glance at Astarion and have to quickly look away from him. He’s really putting on the charm tonight and if you continue to look his way, it might work.

“Well why not?” Astarion isn’t having it, cupping your cheek so you look to his face, to his wide red eyes. “I know you’re attracted to me. When you think I’m not looking you can’t keep your eyes off me, but as soon as I look your way…” Astarion takes a moment to appreciate the color on your cheeks, the way you seem to look for an escape a moment before giving in and looking into his eyes.

“It’s not that, trust me, I think you’re very nice to look at…” You close your eyes a moment, trying to gather yourself and your thoughts. You just, didn’t know how to breach the topic. You knew it wasn’t embarrassing, but to have to tell Astarion of all people that you were still a virgin… Well, it but a knot in your stomach.

“Well then what is it?” He urged, hand tracing down your cheek to rest on your neck, to the spot where he had tasted your sweet, sweet blood again and again.

“I’ve just. Never laid with anyone before!” You say the words quickly, closing your eyes lest you see his reaction to the truth.

“Really?” Astarion can’t deny the excitement that floods through him. This merely sweetens the pot for him. To have a precious little cleric share her virgin blood with him (Astarion can merely smirk at how mad that would make Cazador), to have her promise to take down that same wretched master, and now to induce in her in a way no one else ever had. Why, it’s as much a gift for him as it is for her! With that, Astarion cools his expression, tries to chill the desire suddenly running through him.

“Aww, a little cleric of Seluné, having never felt the touch of another?” Astarion can’t help but coo, his words smooth as he teases. Cliche, perhaps, but still enticing. “Saving yourself for someone special?” He laughs again. “Or perhaps saving yourself for me?”

“I didn’t say--” Astarion cuts you off with a soft ‘shh’, gently lowering you down on your bedroll.

“You didn’t have too, darling. I can see in you what you can’t speak aloud.” He moves atop you, leering over you with a devilish look in his eyes. “You want this just as bad as I do, you just do have the words to say it.” With that, he descends upon you, lips meeting in what you can only call a sweet kiss. Sweet enough, in fact, to lure you in; soft and kind for fleeting precious moments before his hunger wins over and you are devoured like the treat you are. He’s overwhelming; hands upon you, peeling away you camp clothing and craving your warmth. He barely parts from your mouth, just enough for a heady intake of you.

“How did I manage to hold back for so long?” His words are spoken with a large, savored sigh. “Just look at you, all needy and obedient under me. A perfect little pet.” His words have your whole body flushing. You could probably easily push him away-- you know you’re stronger than him and if your desperate you’ve a war hammer not even a meter away from where the two of you lay. But you aren’t sure you want to. Aren’t sure if you should.

When Astarion lifts the hem of your shirt, you lift your arms for him, so the fabric can be thrown away. So too does his shirt go. When his hands snake to your pants, and wiggle them past your hips, past your thighs to join you prayer book in the far corner, you do not stop him. Nor do you stop him from removing his own worn and threadbare pants; they join you other clothing in the small confines of your tent, until the two of you are left in your undergarments, looking at one another with wonder and lust and fear and everything that stands between.

You hadn’t noticed you were trembling until Astarion leaned in close to you again, taking your hand in his. “Sorry, I just,” The words tumble out of you before you can think to stop them. “Just, nervous.” You manage to get out, carefully tracing his features for any hint of teasing or remark.

“That’s alright,” Astarion pauses, because he can’t quite remember the last time someone looked as scared as he always felt. He stops and considers a moment if this was something you truly wanted-- but if it wasn’t you wouldn’t have let him get this far in the first place, would you? But then he sighs, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours with his eyes closed.

“This isn’t right, is it?” Astarion pauses a moment, opening his eyes to really take you in. You were still shaking like a leaf, eyes wide and fearful. It was like looking into a mirror for the first time in 200 years. How could he even think to force you into this when it was something he had tried to avoid the entirety of his undead life?

“It’s…” You sigh and shake your head no. “It was never that I didn’t like you, or find you attractive… I’m just not ready. But… I didn’t want to lose the chance to be with you, either.” You admit. “I should have stopped you but…” You pause as Astarion gently pulls off of you.

“No, I should have…” Astarion pauses as well, pushing air out through his nose. “I should have listened to you.” He sits, turned away from you, and you study the intricate runes on his back as you both take a long moment to speak.

“I… should leave.” Astarion moves to get his clothing together, and you sit up straight as well.

“Wait! Just because I don’t want to have sex, doesn’t mean I don’t like your company.” You pull on your own shirt as well, watching as he turns your way with a confused look on his face. “I still like spending time with you.” You admit, face just as pink as when you admitted you were a virgin.

“… You really do, don’t you?” Astarion settles a moment, watching your face as your bright eyes flash his way a moment. “Even if you did try to lie it would be easy to tell…” He retreats to his thoughts a moment, considering his next move. “If I do stay, what would you have us do?” He rests again as you sheepishly pull your pants back on under his watchful gaze.

“Well…” You look to him. “I liked being close to you, actually.” You admit. “It was nice to be held by you.” You seem shy all the sudden, but your request is rather tame compared to what Astarion was more than ready to do to you.

“You just want to cuddle?” Astarion is equal parts surprised and amused. It’s not as if he hadn’t but, well it had never been with anyone he dared to care about. You are different, in that sense. He’s put a lot of chips on you, no doubt… And though he wouldn’t dare to put a title to it, there is a certain sense of affection he held for you. One that, perhaps he can indulge for now. “Well… I suppose there’s no harm in that.”

You light up. “Really?” You smile at him, wide and unabashed. Astarion finds he likes that look much better than the fear you wore mere minutes earlier. It suits you much better. “You don’t mind?”

Astarion scoffs, perhaps to hide his own excitement at the prospect. “I said I pay you back, didn’t I? Who am I to complain how you decide to spend our time together?” He acts nonchalant but you can’t help but keep smiling. “Now, come here.” Astarion scoots in closer to you, holding his arms out and makes a little grabby motion with his hands. You can’t help but giggle but nonetheless comply, moving in closer to him and allowing him to encircle his arms around you. You circle an arm around his neck, and rest one on his chest, sighing in content.

“This is nice.” You hum out, eyes closed as you snuggle closer to him. Astarion can’t help but admire how serene you look.

“You’re still shaking…” He notes, even as he holds you close and tries to follow your lead. Isn’t this what you wanted?

“This time, it really is nerves.” You confirm, opening your eyes to look at his face. “I’m okay though, I promise.” You cuddle in closer to him, once again closing your eyes. It’s both quite alarming and fascinating how much you seem to trust Astarion but… This time, he won’t be that trust to shame.

The two of you would go at this (whatever this was, he noted; everything seemed strange and new) at your pace. Because maybe, just maybe… that was what Astarion needed too.

#Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #here we go again boys #can you believe he's not even my fav #i just keep having these ideas

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springtrappd · 1 year

Note

You said in one post that the author of Solar Lunacy is ableist. Could you explain how they're being problematic? I know almost nothing about them or the story itself, so I wouldn't know if they've said or done anything sus. Also, thank you for actually criticizing the Daycare Attendant stans, almost nobody in this site does that.

thank you for asking! it's rare to see, you're right, but it's also rare that people are willing to actually engage with that critical posting, so -- again, thank you! as for your question: oh boy, can i!

first: the basics. dissociation is a psychological response to overwhelming stress wherein the brain... disassociates from itself, placing a barrier between itself and the harsh reality. the most famous dissociative disorder is dissociative identity disorder (DID), known formerly as multiple personality disorder (MPD) or split personality. did occurs when someone without a fully-formed identity (read: a child) undergoes such severe stress that the 'brain' dissociates from its identity itself, creating alternate identities (personalities) to deal with the things they can't. these alternate identities work together to form a system. it's way more complicated than that and you can read more on it here and here but that's the bare minimum for the ignorant in the audience. we all caught up? good! moving on.

now, the question of whether or not the daycare attendant is a system is a touchy one. i've seen multiple different stances on the matter, seen a lot of arguments, and typed (and deleted) several hundreds of words about it, and the answer that i've come to is that, for the sake of this argument, whether the dca is a system in canon doesn't matter. what matters is how bamsara treats them. how do they handle the characters, how do they frame the switches in personality, the confusion, all the parallels to real-world symptoms -- how do they expect the viewer to feel, what do they pull from the cultural lexicon, yadda yadda. does bamsara -- regardless of their intentions -- depict the dca as a system, and if so, how do they handle it?

the answer is that they depict the dca as experiencing altered identity states, switching (and even blurring) between identities, and even repeatedly acknowledges them as a plural entity.

and it is these behaviours, specifically, that are used to make the dca scary. bamsara's daycare attendant is scary because they experience altered identity states. because they blur identities. because they are a plural entity. because they display the textbook symptoms and behaviours of a disorder most commonly caused by childhood sexual abuse. and it is the fear that this is inspires that makes them (but especially moon & eclipse) sexy.

now, one can argue that this is simply in line with existing horror media, and they would be correct: most pop culture depictions of dissociative disorders are extremely ableist, and have real-world consequences! but what makes it really, really shitty is that... i don't want to think about this stuff. i don't come to fandom to be reminded that people are terrified of what they don't understand, and that that very very often includes the mentally ill. i don't want to be reminded that there are people who don't believe dissociative disorders exist at all. i don't want to reminded that they -- the sick, the survivors, the unlucky 140 million -- are spoken of in the same way as monsters. i don't come here for harsh realities. but solar lunacy is the most kudos'd fnaf fic on ao3, and we all have to live with that.

if you liked solar lunacy or bamsara's content or... whatever, i don't particularly care. i'm not mad about people thinking evil alters are sexy, or engaging with horror content that says shitty things about systems -- it's your life, live it how you please (and i've got a vanny icon so who am i to judge lmao). sometimes the things that make us happy are kinda shitty, and that's okay! our views are shaped by the society we live in, and there is no society on earth that is kind to the mentally ill -- there's no way to undo that, to stop that from influencing you in some capacity. but... all i ask is for you to think about this stuff, and try to educate yourself on the topic. there's nothing wrong with making a mistake, or having flaws -- but there's something wrong with making a space that feels unsafe, that reflects some of the more uncomfortable aspects of our society, that unintentionally hurts people. it's just up to you if that something is something you care about.

i hope that answers your question, anon (and anyone else who's curious). take care, mate!

(edit 13/01/2023: due to some technical difficulties on tumblr's end, the notes aren't quite showing up properly, so here's the link to bamsara's reblog chain if you can't find it.)

#speaking!#asks #anon #bamsara #fnaf #discourse #long post #loooong looooooong post #sorry it got so long!! i have a lot to say abt this topic #& wanted to do my due diligence #so doubly sorry if there are any errors... 'tis midnight #also: don't ask if i have did/am a system please!#it's extremely rude and confronting to ask someone something like that #just like. putting that out there.#anyway #csa ment #child abuse ment #bs saga

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prince-liest · 23 days

Note

I’m a sex-repulsed ace, and reading the latest chapter of 666 (as well as your analysis here on Tumblr) made me realize that I have been subconsciously thinking about MY OWN sexuality from an allo perspective? And that it has kinda been messing me up?? Like, ever since I learned that sexual attraction was actually a Thing and that it’s Important To People, I had been carrying around a fear of being deficient in some way and not being able to love to the same extent as allos. (1)

Even though I know logically that’s complete garbage and totally untrue, I felt left out of the loop because people seemed to care strongly about this thing I couldn’t even imagine. Whenever it looked like a relationship might happen I panicked for a reason that I couldn’t understand. But now I’m starting to realize that it’s because I was subconsciously terrified of an ‘ulterior motive’ behind the other person’s reasons for wanting to be with me. (2) That part of the reason they even cared was because of something I don’t experience. So thank you, because this realization just clicked into place while reading your work. The thing is, this way of thinking was just internalized in such a way that I didn’t even realize it was there until literally this week. And I think you’re right; one of the main reasons behind that is because I’ve always consumed media written from an allo perspective. (3) If ace/aros are shown at all, they’re depicted as “lacking” and their character development usually revolves around being “fixed” by the story. When I was ~10 years old my mom sometimes let me watch the Big Bang Theory with her (looking back, maybe not the best decision). Anyways, there was one episode deep into the series where Sheldon (who for the past nineish seasons was probably the closest thing to mainstream ace rep) has sex with his girlfriend for the first time. (4) Afterwards, he says something along the lines of “that was better than I thought it would be”, and it’s presented as a Very Good Thing and a big step in their relationship. I think a lifetime of stuff like that makes it very easy to internalize aphobia and feel like the lesser part of the relationship. Or to feel like the other partner is making a huge sacrifice to be with you. That got wayy too long, sorry. All that was just a lot of words to say that I appreciate you. Take care of yourself!(5)

The portrayal of asexuality that you see in media being almost exclusively as you described is very tedious to me because it presumes that something is inherently lacking in aro/aceness rather than that feeling of "lacking" being something that is induced by societal norms. Actually, one of the things that I find additionally alienating is that fandom spaces specifically have been getting better and better about ace characters - but got damn does fandom not jive with aromanticism. Like, a character doesn't want to fuck? That's becoming a liiiittle more fine, it's 2024, we stan consent. But not shipping someone romantically?? Not so easy, now.

I'm glad that my work has been something that resonated with you in this respect! Alastor cares a lot about his reputation as a demon but is pretty blatantly a person who could not possibly give less of a shit about being "wrong" for not being experiencing romantic or sexual attraction. The explanation Viv gave at one point for his own understanding of himself (that he thinks he's just "waiting for the right woman") actually stuck out to me a lot because it's a very "well, nothing is wrong with me for not feeling anything, it's the world that's failed to produce a suitable person" perspective.

But having that kind of confident perspective of your own rightness in the world is really not often portrayed in media, or even in fandom, which even ten years ago was still in the throes of standardizing "Oh, no! Me, gay? These feelings are so wrong!" style m/m content and is honestly not that far off from essentially that for aro/ace characters.

Anyway, all of that is to say that there's not yet much out there that doesn't frame allo/amatonormative values as the default that "even aro/ace people can (and should want to) achieve," and that it's really fun to write a fic that is unequivocally from the perspective of a character who is aroace and doesn't see it as even remotely a fault in himself. Does he have moments where he's a little confused and trying to process how things fit for him? Absolutely. But he just doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who thinks he owes romance to Vox of all people, hahaha. I've written him trying to conform to allo/amatonormativity more with Mimzy, because I think the social standards of their time could push him into it, but Vox? Absolutely not, he does not respect Vox enough for it to even enter his mind.

And then, on the other hand, writing it from an aroace perspective centers the way that romantic and sexual interest can feel like a betrayal of a good thing. With a character like Alastor, it frames romantic and sexual attraction the same alien way that we usually see aromanticism and asexuality framed as.

In the end, this is just one of a plethora of different experiences that aro/ace people can have, but it's one that I really wanted to see represented more, so I'm very happy to write it. I'm glad that you're enjoying it!

#ask #personal #Anonymous #long post #t #aroace #ace #he cares about Vox at this point!#but that's. not really the same as respecting him.#anyway this next chapter is important to me because it's very #how do I put this #“this was okay at the moment but that doesn't mean he's okay with it overall and forever”#“and it does not mean that they've 'progressed' their relationship to the point where Alastor being aroace is a 'nonissue'”#“(feat. ofc the heavy implication that it was an issue in the first place)”#ANYWAY. SOMETIMES I HAVE A HARD TIME EXPRESSING THIS IN NON-FIC WORDS #SO HOPEFULLY THE FIC AS IT CONTINUES SPEAKS FOR ME. I AM GLAD THAT IT HAS SPOKEN TO YOU SO FAR <3 THANK YOU!!#sexuality #my writing #hazbin hotel #this is a hot button topic atm and it took me a minute to write a reply #that didn't seem like it invited discourse lmfao #actually I still feel weird posting my opinion this strongly oops OH WELL

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hina-hina · 1 year

Note

Could you possibly do Ghost or König falling head over heels in a bar over fem! reader, but upon actually going to talk her they find she's mostly mute, signing and such. Though eager to try and converse with this tall masked man who sits at her booth, all pretty smiles and leaning in to listen.

Hello and thank you for requesting!!! This was a super cute senario!! I already wrote a selectively mute reader imagine, but this one is going to be slightly different!

Guys, I'm so sorry for being behind this week! I think I know what I want to do for 1K, but I think I'm going to finish with requests first! Again, sorry for ending my daily posts but hopefully this will cause more high quality work!

First and foremost, I am a Roach-Ghost bestie stan. Someone help me with writing accents!!! ::>_<::

This work is not beta read!!!

→ COD Masterlist

|| Ghost + König With a Mute S/O ||

Tags: Protective Ghost, Meet-Cute, Exchanging of Numbers, Soft Ghost, Bashfulness, Mute!Reader, Ghost knows Sign Language, Possible OOC Ghost (but I try to remain as faithful as possible), Nervous König, Awkward Flirting, Maybe OOC König,

Warnings: Pushy Guys, Alcohol mentions,

Female!Reader // Romantic

|| Ghost

Ghost very seldom finds people attractive. What even rarer is that he acts on said attraction. He doesn't want to doom anyone to be attached to him, a phantom that death clings to like an ill-fitting coat.

This evening wasn't unlike all the others that happened after a particularly taxing mission. They bar wasn't particularly crowded or nice, filled with stale air and some distant rock music playing over crackly speakers. The others seem content in their conversation, sipping their drinks and laughing as they unwind. Ghost was sat, mask pulled up slightly as he took the last sip from his class of bourbon.

While he does his scan of the room, something catches his eye. Or, rather, someone.

He sees you, sitting off in one of the booths. He finds himself wondering how such a pretty young women is alone in a place like this. Ghost finds himself unable to take his eyes off of you and maybe that's a good thing because he's watching when a (clearly intoxicated) man stumbles over to the booth.

For a moment, Ghost is sure this must be the man you came with and starts to turn away. However, he manages to catch your uncomfortable expression as you try to turn the man away with some hand gestures, to no avail.

With a gruff, "be right back," that is majorly ignored by his companions, Ghost pushes away from the bar and stalks closer to the booth. As he gets closer, he starts to hear what the man is saying and finds himself more disgusted. He is shocked you haven't cursed the man out and slapped him across the face for your trouble.

He clamps one of his hands down onto the (much smaller) man's shoulder, immediately causing him to freeze and glance over his shoulder. "Get lost," Ghost's dark tone reaches even this drunkards rationality causing him to scoff and stumble off.

Upon his departure, Ghost looks back at you who has now begun staring wide eyed at him. He clears his throat, gesturing to the empty booth across from you, "This seat taken?"

You shake your head, gesturing outward to the seat as if to say, "be my guest."

Ghost nods, slumping down into the seat and trying not to make it obvious he was avoiding eye-contact, "I hope that wasn't presumptuous of me. You must've came here with someon'. 'm... Simon. By the way."

You smile, still staring openly at him before shaking your head, signing something with your hands.

Ghost freezes for a moment. He didn't expect this sudden hiccup. He is, for once, thankful for being friends with Roach which led him to learning some sign in order to communicate with him more efficiently.

"'m sorry, love, I didn't catch that," the term slips out before he can stop it, "I know some sign, but can you go a bit slower?"

You look at him in shock for a moment that he can understand before slowing down and signing, "I'm here alone." and tacking on a sign-spelling of your name. You take special care to slow down, carefully signing each word to make sure he catches it. You ask him what he's doing here.

"I think I should be askin' you that. This isn't really the place for pretty ladies," he takes a secret pride in the blush that spreads across your cheeks, "I'm here with some friends."

You glance towards the bar where the other members of 141 have started to calm down a bit before signing, "I was supposed to be meeting someone here. Looks like I've been stood up, though."

Ghost scoffs, "If he wanted to meet you in this place, he ain't worth your worries."

Your smile twitches, "Your probably right. It's not turning out all bad though"

This causes a small, amused scoff to come from his mouth, "I'm glad I can entertain."

Before he could say anything further, a slightly tipsy Soap calls from across the bar, "Ghost! You comin'?" The others have begun paying their tabs and collecting their jackets. Ghost makes a mental note to smack him upside the head for interrupting, nonetheless.

He sighs, "Duty calls." Ghost reluctantly slides, from the booth. "You should get outta' here too. Need someone to take you home?"

You smile and shake your head, "No. I could settle for your number, though."

Ghost's lips twitch into an almost-smile before he holds out his hand for your phone, "That can be arranged."

He looks so baby girl here

|| König

It wasn't often König found himself going out to bars with his colleagues. Mostly because he found himself getting nervous in crowded places and because it wasn't really acceptable to wear a sniperhood in public spaces.

But, with some urging from his recently-acquired friend Horangi, he found himself reluctantly agreeing. Instead of his normal hood, he put on a simple, black surgical mask to try and help with his anxiety. At least this bar wasn't anywhere near crowded.

He still felt incredibly awkward sitting hunched over in the too-small bar stool. The others seemed to be having a good time at least, all of them caught up in some sports game playing on the tv above the bar. König quickly took a sip of his drink, scanning across the room before his eyes landed on you, sitting quietly off to the side with a group of friends. He pauses, stunned by your smile for a moment before he turns away quickly. Despite his blush being mostly covered by his mask, Horangi notices somehow. "You should send her a drink." If his eyes weren't covered by sunglasses, he was sure the statement would have been accompanied by a wink.

König gulped, "I couldn't..."

Horangi landed a friendly pat on the bigger man's shoulder, "Sure you could. What's the worst that could happen?"

König can think of quite a few things that can go wrong. But even then, he can't get your smile out of his head. He slowly lifts his hand, calling the bartender over before asking for some pleasant, fruity drink to be sent to your table. To you.

When the waiter came to collect the drink to bring to the table, König made a point not to look in your direction. He could already feel the hot waves of embarrassment wash down his back. He briefly thought about bolting from the bar before he realized it was too late, glancing over his shoulder as you scan the bar. Your eyes meet for a moment before König quickly turns away.

He expects nothing to come from it, that you would just laugh about the occurrence with your friends before going about the rest of your night. He figures he's wrong when he hears light footsteps approaching him from behind. You set the drink that he sat you down before sliding into the bar stool next to him. König glaces up nervously.

"I'm sorry..." König can't keep the apology from coming out. You frown slightly and shake your head, signing something with your hands. König pauses, clenching and unclenching his fist around his glass, "Oh... I don't know that much English sign..."

You nod sympathetically, thinking for a moment before gesturing to yourself before slowly fingerspelling your name. König watches intently before nodding slowly, "My friends call me König." At you curious look he laughs softly, "It means King in German. It's a... long story." He didn't really want to get into why he got his callsign.

You smile, slowly signing something along the line of "thank you" before gesturing towards the drink.

König nods, resisting the urge to sheepishly rub at the back of his neck, "Your welcome... I didn't know if you would like it or not."

In response, you smile and take a sip of the drink.

He finds himself laughing softly, turning more openly towards you before saying, "I'm glad. I'm sorry for taking you away from your friends. Your just... Really pretty."

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You start to slowly sign something else but your friends call out to you. You both turn, seeing your friends had begun to collect their things. This causes you to frown slightly, which König can't help but find unreasonably cute, before you turn an apologetic look back to König. He waves his hands dismissivly, "No, no, I-It's alright! Go and join your friends."

You take the last sip of the drink he sent you before pulling the napkin you had been using as a coaster from beneath it. You reach across the bar and grab a nearby pen, quickly squibbling down your number onto the napkin before presenting it to König. He takes it carefully, staring astonished before shrinking into himself, trying to hide a rising blush, "Danke..."

You smile before winking back at him, moving towards the bartender to pay your tab before throwing one last look at König that says, "You better text me!"

König nods, carefully folding the napkin and sticking it into his pocket before letting out a deep sigh. He can't help the small smile the comes to his face when he thinks about talking to you again.

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