#only to be assessed by people who have no fucking idea what we deal with
Text
me surrounded by all of my medical paperwork that disability services deems “not enough evidence” to claim support, after applying for the 5th time:
#spoonie#actually disabled#all because I don’t ‘tick a box’#all because of elaborate recited corporate language that essentially spells out ‘not disabled enough’#Australia may have - objectively - sort of good health care (up for debate obviously but it’s not Bad either) but jfc#the hoops disabled people have to leap through ….#only to be assessed by people who have no fucking idea what we deal with#sigh#I quite literally have to hand over sensitive vulnerable information#my whole life story (since BIRTH)#to faceless strangers#and wait to be judged worthy of support#how do they not expect anyone to be disheartened by this??#spoon tag#disability#disabled#chronic illness#chronic pain#chronically ill#medical conditions#healthcare#healthcare system#Australian healthcare#personal
234 notes
·
View notes
Text
There's a nonzero chance that it was Jinx's idea to frame the Firelights for the hexgem heist. The first time we see Jinx on a job, she fails to secure the shipment of Shimmer as the last line of defense. To make up the loss and more to assuage her own insecurity, she not only steals the hexgem and some related research papers, she blatantly causes as much mayhem as possible. Like not even the fact she put her tag on the burning building, but she vandalized Jayce and Viktor's lab to rub it in their faces. The fact that these two things happen back to back, coupled with Sevika's assessment of Jinx's performance, primed us as an audience to think this is only a minor escalation in her exploits and erratic behavior.
I think the flagrant disregard for any kind of subtlety was on purpose. Jinx's capable of doing a task quietly and subtly while still adding her own style, look at how she kidnapped Caitlyn while dealing eith the after effects of her Shimmer surgery. Obviously, the heist has Jinx's name written all over it, but you'd have to know her name first to know she did it, and only a small circle of people actually did. The Council definitely didn't know who she was. Jinx was probably banking on the wall of silence Silco created for her to obscure the truth, not hide the crime, just the culprit.
Jinx knew there would be consequences for what she did. This isn't the first time she blew up a building in Piltover, the last time that happened Piltover, flooded the place with enforcers and wrecked her life. I imagine if she learned anything from the first time, it's that Piltover always needs a scapegoat, but this time instead of Vander being conflicted, Silco would readily give names, and the Firelights filled that list for them.
When Silco went to Jinx's lab to confront her on the what she did. Jinx laughs it off, and I just thought "oh Jinx isn't taking the situation seriously, she's a loose cannon that gets results". But then I didn't take her surroundings into account. First she has the gem, and around her are not only one of her grenades, the kind she used in the bombing (shrapnel's still littering the scene), covered in Firelight tags, but she was working on Firelight themed tactical bombs that she later used on the bridge. Now it's easy to think she covered the grenade with hourglasses because she had Ekko and his team on her brain as they had another confrontation, and to hint to the audience he was the secret leader. But now it makes more sense that she prepping to do more damage under the Firelights name. Jinx wasn't laughing because she didn't care what happens to her and Silco. Jinx was laughing because she already had a plan for what happens next and Silco needed to keep up.
It never really occurred to me because it seemed like such a Silco to do. But then I thought, why wouldn't he do something like this earlier? I know Ekko said Silco has sent enforcers after them before, but I feel like if Silco was really pressed to slaughter a bunch of kids, he would have already. The only thing I think that could have held him back was Jinx. Not in a, "I don't want to hurt you by killing someone you care about" way, but more in a "I want you to be strong and kill the past with your own hands" way. Silco also probably felt more secure in Jinx and Ekko's dynamic because it's hinted that in the past, she chose to be by his side rather than Ekko's.
But why all this now? Well Jinx was paranoid and really upset after she failed the mission, and that happens to make her spiteful on top of all that. Rember, she stabbed Silco in the face when she thought he was lying to her (it would have been a big lie if it were true tho). When Jinx failed she probably attributed part of her frustration and on to the Firelights, they were there to sabotage the cargo, and chose to fuck them over because of it. This would be her blessing to finally get rid of them.
Just a little deeper than that, she's recreated the same stunt that changed her life forever. But this time she's in control, and she has a father that's not conflicted about throwing someone under the bus for her.
I feel ridiculous being so focused on this scenario, becuase the idea switching from Silco to Jinx doesn't materially change anything about how things will play out for the Firelights. If this were actually true, all she has to do is not say anything because everyone, including the audience, would think Silco thought of it. Ekko would still her blame her by association, but to know that they were driven out into further isolation because Jinx would honestly put him in a similar position to Caitlyn. Where both think back to the choice to not take her out earlier and all the grief it gave them later down the line. Jinx still has all of next season to watch the consequences unfurl for the Firelights, because her bomb may have been defused, but it STILL hasn't proverbially gone off.
(Maybe Viktor will defuse it like he did her actual bomb).
#it's kind of funny how the second part is like the first but flipped#jinx arcane#silco#ekko#arcane#arcane theory#sometimes we forget jinx is a dickhead sometimes#firelights arcane#now I'm thinking about how jinx feels about vander#does she resent him for not compromising his morals for their family#jinx really does recreate her own trauma just like silco does
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thoughts on the possible Aegon and Aemond post blood and cheese spoilers.
Aegon fleeing to a brothel to deal with his grief and whatever feelings he may be experiencing is not a surprise. I know people may be disappointed, and I get it. But I guess it would be unrealistic to expect him to suddenly develop new/better coping mechanisms during what is not only an extremely stressful time for him on so many levels, but also especially after suffering such a devastating loss. More on that last bit later.
I know some of us were hoping the loss of their son might bring Aegon and Helaena closer. And I don't think this is necessarily impossible, even if Aegon is out there whoring and drinking his way through Flea Bottom and/or the Street of Silk.
Helaena was clear about neither wanting or enjoying Aegon’s sexual attention. And we know Aegon feels the same way. I think having them suddenly seek physical intimacy with each other as a form of comfort would be an interesting choice, but I don't expect the show to go that way. They could still grow closer in other ways, but I'm afraid it's unlikely. What they'll probably want to show us is Helaena isolating herself and sinking deeper and deeper into depression in her grief.
I'm not quite sure what else they might do to portray Aegon’s grief and how he'll experience and deal with this loss. Some of the choices the writers made for the character in season 1 are definitely going to prove a tough hurdle to take to do justice to his character in this particular storyline. I definitely hope they can still pull it off.
Now onto the rumour that Aemond will be the one to torture Blood. How weird am I for actually loving this idea? In a possibly twisted way I'm really excited about this and seriously looking forward to seeing this.
Not just because I know Ewan is going to blow us away with his performance. I'm sure it will be terrifying to watch, but he'll look hot doing it. Who said that? Shut up, Jen!
Anyway, someone commented on the rumour, saying it's just different ways of mourning, and I think that's an accurate assessment. While Aegon has his coping mechanisms, so does Aemond, and his has always been to wield his grief and rage into something he considers useful.
What's interesting in terms of character development, is that we know that while this rage fuels him and drives him, he lacks a true outlet for it. And we have already seen how that can end in a tragic outcome.
So while on some level it may seem like a positive thing for Aemond to channel all his rage, grief and worst of all his guilt into torturing Blood, as fucked up as that may sound, and it definitely is, I think it will prove just another step on the path of him becoming that man who killed the entire Strong family and torched the Riverlands.
And I think this is part of why I do love the writing choices for Aemond’s character in season 1. Instead of just making him the mostly one-dimensional villain from Fire & Blood, we'll get to see the journey, the descent so to speak.
Because as much as I think it makes sense for Aemond to be the one to torture Blood, there's a reason why royal families had a professional to take care of this stuff. And the thing is, the Greens do have someone like that. Larys is right there, he's the Lord Confessor. As much as I understand why Aemond wants to do it, probably believes he's the one who has to do it, it's just so maddeningly devastating, so heartbreakingly sad.
Aemond is only 18 years old, and while that makes him officially an adult, both in Westeros and in most of our own world, that's still tragically young. I mean, that's part of the tragedy of the entire story, that they were all so young.
But the worst part is that I think this is just the culmination of the role Aemond has been assigned within his family and faction, has chosen for himself, the one he's managed to convince himself he wants for himself. He's their protector, this dangerous man who wants people to fear him because it makes him useful and valuable for his family.
If people can't be bothered to care for the young boy who was hurt and wronged in such an awful way, he'll make sure they'll acknowledge the monster he's had to become, the dangerous and efficient swordsman, the rider of the largest dragon in the world, the mad dog who will do anything for his family. In a way he's become the Daemon to Aegon’s Rhaenyra, or perhaps his Visenya. He has become his weapon.
And if the dehumanising aspect of that is not bad enough on its own, he now has to close off his humanity even more to do what is needed of him.
And yet still so painfully human, he's so full of grief and rage and guilt. More than that, those feelings are partly caused by the idea that he's failed his family twice now. He killed Lucerys. He couldn’t save Jaehaerys. He couldn’t protect Helaena. It is all his fault, he's past the point of no return, and now he's a dead man walking. The only thing he can do to postpone his end is to ensure the destruction of the people who were responsible for this monstrous crime.
Aemond has become the most dangerous animal in the world and they've backed him into a corner.
I'm so looking forward to seeing him snap.
#house of the dragon spoilers#hotd spoilers#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#blood and cheese#jen rambles#i wouldn’t call this analysis or meta#just me trying to put my thoughts into words#i am completely normal about this man
36 notes
·
View notes
Note
what do you mean by "advocate for safe treatment of gender dysphoria"?
thank u for asking! I get to go on one of my epic tangents now. I have been waiting for this moment
I mean I advocate for the development of therapy specifically designed to help people with gender dysphoria. gender dysphoria is a mental illness as it causes someone chronic mental distress and is observed in only a small percentage of the population meaning it is not 'normal'. Gender dysphoria can stem from a lot of things such as sexual violence, feelings of alienation, or you can just be born with it which is linked to high levels of testosterone in the womb IIRC.
all mental illness symptoms can be managed with therapy - the right type of therapy for you, the right therapist for you. some people need medication as an additional aid. there is not a gender dysphoria specific therapeutic approach I am aware of right now, because why help when you can make money off of someone's mental illness? gender dysphoria is a very lucrative illness for plastic surgeons and private clinics to exploit.
I want people to be challenged and support them with finding the root cause of their dysphoria before they decide to go for cross sex hormones. I do not think puberty blockers are safe. no other mental illness is treated by surgery. I want the development of safe medications and therapies that give people options besides "surgery or suicide!!!". Fucking with the endocrine system is so dangerous if there is nothing wrong with it and there should be more research into treatment that doesnt affect the endocrine or nervous system.
so the reason I care so much about safe treatment for gender dysphoria and the development of different therapies or safer medications is because of my lovely perfect amazing partner who is the best person in the world and also my bestest friend and biggest supporter who has helped me through the darkest times of my life and vice versa. my partner is the reason I've chosen to start caring about myself. more about him under the cut.
my partner is being actually assessed for DID. as in he is not self diagnosed -he has been seeing a dissociative disorder specialist for months with 20+ years of experience who has since written a letter recommending a referral to the CDS as his therapist believes he meets the criteria for DID and he has switched during therapy sessions that I've been there for. I am familiar with all his parts, it's become quite overt at least to me since his first dissociative fugue this year. he doesn't use it as role play. he has a lot of episodes of denial. he doesnt have any fictives. he has an introject of one of his abusers. he has gone into dissociative fugues and they have been terrifying to deal with. I am the only person that knows his history and the extent of his trauma and that includes himself bc he doesn't know all of his trauma.
he has transitioned and again as I have mentioned before I'm not going to disrespect his gender identity and pronouns because I love him and I want him to go on that journey alone to decide what makes him feel most comfortable and usually I don't care to cater for someone's comfort, but if anyone deserves to feel just a little more comfortable it's him all the way.
he is a radical feminist and acknowledges his female socialisation is his experience of womanhood, he came off of hormones after some major cognitive dissonance as I became a radical feminist and he realised his community is hurting him. he opened his mind to the idea of radical feminism and has acknowledged we are in a homosexual relationship. he prefers the term afab so i use that around him again just bc its such a little accommodation that makes him feel safe and respected around me, but he acknowledges that his sex has painted his experience of the world and misogyny is the reason he has DID. we hate men together. he recognises he has nothing in common with 'cis' men.
his experiences of sexual violence will undoubtedly have contributed to gender dysphoria and as he processes this in therapy, he might find his dysphoria is gone or maybe it's still there or maybe it's worse than ever. but he is dissociated from his body, DID is complex as fuck and certainly a feminist issue. for example he has a fully mute part that simply envisions himself as a floating head - makes sense right? mind body disconnect. this part sometimes goes into partial paralysis where he literally cannot move his feet or hands and he flops or gets stuck because he is so dissociated from his body.
he also has parts that don't feel particularly dysphoric by being called she/her. but his dysphoria is consistent across different identities, except his littles. one little is a very young boy ive only met once. my partner has no idea about anything to do with this little but since DID is the result of a childs imagination + severe ongoing trauma until the age of 7-9, I think he figured from a very young age that being born a girl was the problem and if he was a boy then all his problems would go away.
also he is very handsome/pretty/all the nice words for his face and his body and his heart and his soul he is so kind and gentle and patient with me and has taught me how to be kinder, gentler and more patient with ppl who deserve it and ive taught him how to be angrier, more assertive and more confident.
sexual trauma and autism are huge contributors to gender dysphoria. he deserves real help to manage his dysphoria, not medication that will increase his risk of diabetes, heart disease, cervical cancer etc. I am glad he has come off of testosterone for the time being and i think when he has made more progress in therapy he will know more concretely whether or not he wants to continue taking hormones.
I think gender dysphoria is a huge feminist issue and i dont like blind hatred of trans identifying people. I think girls and women suffering from GD deserve sympathy and help rather than being ridiculed. there are also men with GD and idc about men's mental health issues (and neither do they until u talk about womens mental health lol) but whatever it is a real experience that you can be born with (or that you have a genetic predisposition to) or something that can develop through socialisation.
he also has an identical twin who has gender dysphoria and is a lesbian but identifies as nonbinary. they are very liberal feministy bc they don't like facing cognitive dissonance but they are my family so again I won't disrespect them not even online where they can't see it because I value loyalty, honesty and respect for those who deserve it. they do not have DID and AFAIK did not experience sexual violence the way my partner did as a child and i think this is because they have very opposite temperaments. partner is freeze/fawn/flop predominantly with some flight and one part that holds all the fight.
he had a very traumatic birth (he was translucent) so was likely predisposed to dissociation upon being born because he was 3 months premature, died at birth bc he was strangled by the umbilical cord, was resuscitated and then died again at 3 months old and was resuscitated again. a baby's only defence against that would be to dissociate heavily.
his twin was also premmy but survived and definitely stole most of the nutrients in the womb lol. his twin is fight & flight only, also a lot more secure in their attachment style.
anyway yeah. there's probably a genetic component bc his mother AND father are both identical twins (not related to each other might I clarify), and one of his aunts also has a trans son who is also my family and a good friend of mine and experienced CSA at the hands of a family member. so it seems to be a mix of nature and nurture and it deserves safe treatment which doesn't seem to exist atm.
#gender critical#gonna pin this bc a lot of u care way too much that im in a long term relationship with someone who has transitioned#ignoring that he agrees with radical feminist ideas which has really helped him form his own opinions#hes not great at critical thinking bc autism and probably bc of dissociation#but me being a liberal feminist and then an anarchist and then marxist then a radical feminist has kinda helped him see the whole spectrum#of left wing political ideology and he agrees the most with radfem ideas and has been able to form his own opinions which#has taken YEARS of prompting to get him to do#and he has to put up with my annoying infodumping anyway#we are pretty much only going to angry women concerts lately#I am very protective of him bc no one else ever has been >:(#he deserves to feel safe and loved and respected and his deadname is BAD#like as in why would any 21 year old have that name in 2023 bad
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dragon Ball GT 51
✨GT Stands For Gull Tactics✨
✨Positivity Page✨
Normally, I have a hard time coming up with something for GT to stand for with each episode, but this one has an embarrassment of riches. Gyre Turbulence, Girl Tornado, Gross Tentacle, Guzzling Tequila, Grabbing Trout... I can’t lose. So props to Episode 51 for satisfying a dumb bit I came up with 26 years after the show went off the air.
✨"Good" "Ideas", Poorly Executed✨
So it’s finally time for YOUR favorite Shadow Dragon. The people have spoken, and it’s Oceanus Shenron, also known as “Princess” and “the one that looks like a chick.”
In fact, Oceanus looks a lot like a slimmed down version of Haze, but he uses spinning powers to cast an illusion. This leads to the big issue I have with the episode’s plot, and Oceanus’ character. Let me back up and explain the setup to this.
So Giru has tracked the next Dragon Ball to a quaint fishing village, but he runs out of power before he can pinpoint its exact location. Before anyone can act on this, fish start dropping from the sky. Pan flips the fuck out and screams for like... a full minute? It felt like it anyway. Pan, you’ve been to space and you’ve seen your grandfather nude. Your parents got possessed by alien eggs and they tried to murder you. It’s just fish. Calm down.
Everyone in town rushes out to gather up the fish in wheelbarrows so they can make a quick profit selling them in town. But one local kid, Bish, isn’t so happy about the situation. Ever since “The Princess” started dumping free fish onto the village, the fishermen have stopped doing any work, and now they just drink all day and wait for more fish to fall from the sky.
Bish’s dad, however, disagrees with his son’s assessment. His counterargument: “Shaddup, you blasphemous ingrate, or I’ll throw my hip flask at you.” From what we see of Bish’s father, I’m pretty sure he’d be a surly drunk with or without this whole “free fish” deal.
Anyway, he throws the flask at Bish, and Goku catches it in his teeth because he won’t stand for child abuse. You can bring your grandkids along on dangerous martial arts adventures, sure, but don’t throw shit at ‘em. That’s where Goku draws the line.
Bish explains the whole bit to Pan while Goku cooks fish and then gives his frying pan to Giru. Aw, this is kind of nice. Everyone’s just chillin’ out, havin’ a fishfry. I’m not sure why Pan is so bummed out, but Bish is worried because he doesn’t know who Princess is or where she came from, but he doesn’t like what she’s done to his village, and also the seagull population has been terrorized lately. Bish has tended to their injuries, but they all hide inside a drydocked boat, because they’re too frightened to go out to sea.
Bish thinks there’s a connection, and he’s right. As soon as Giru recharges, he locates the Dragon Ball, and it’s on the forehead of the village’s Princess, who flies into dump more fish on them. Goku and Pan recognize her as a Shadow Dragon, and it’s clear that this is just part of their “destroy the world” agenda.
Here’s my question: How long has Oceanus been at this? I say this because the Shadow Dragons only came to be back in Episode 48, and Goku and Pan have been tracking them down ever since. They found Haze very quickly, and it seemed like they immediately went looking for Rage and found him without much delay. So I just assumed that Episodes 48-51 all take place in the same afternoon. Actually, if the entire Shadow Dragons Saga is just a single day, that wouldn’t surprise me at all.
And yet, everything about Oceanus implies a long con. Each Shadow Dragon seems to have picked out a “home base”, where they go to work ruining things. I almost get the sense that they’re competing with each other. Haze threatened to expand his territory until it covered the whole world, which would make it a paradise for himself. Rage claimed to have stolen the whole world’s electricity. Their individual goals don’t seem to mesh well, so I wonder if this is some deal where they’re all out to destroy the Earth, but only one of them gets to do it. And this is all some weird contest to see who gets to pull the trigger. By that logic, Oceanus seems to be doing her own thing her own way, but it feels like she’s been at it for a lot longer than the others.
Like, okay, the disguise is a neat bit. I just like her “Princess” design a lot better than her true form. I wish the other Dragons had similarly diverse looks to them. But why does Oceanus need a disguise at all? Apparently she’s been giving free fish to the villagers for a while now. They’re so used to it at this point that they call her a goddess and have given up working for a living. She warns Goku that no one has ever seen her true form and lived to tell about it, which is a cool line, but not for a villain who’s only a few hours old. Who else has seen her true form?
The premise for this story suggests that she’s been at this thing for weeks, or even longer, but that just doesn’t add up. Maybe Goku and Pan stopped at a Holiday Inn between Episode 50 and 51. So at most, Oceanus has been operating in Bish’s village for a full day. And yet the whole town has already gotten accustomed to her routine. It doesn’t add up.
And what’s the point of this whole charade? This is her only appearance, so she dies before we can find out her plan, but it seems like it would take forever to pull off. I mean, I guess her plan involves corrupting the village’s fishermen and damaging the local ecology, but wouldn’t it make more sense to just... I don’t know... use her wind powers to break stuff? That’s what the other dragons are up to. Haze was making land uninhabitable, Rage was forcing people to abandon cities, and when we get to Naturon we’ll find him digging tunnels and wrecking cities in the process.
Oceanus’ strange tactics might be explained by a quirky personality, which brings me to the Underwear Wish that created her. The Dragon Ball Wiki has a lot of words devoted to trying to connect each Shadow Dragon to the wish that birthed them, and while I respect the effort, it’s a lot of reaching. Someone might suggest that Oceanus uses the Princess disguise because Oolong’s wish was so frivolous and pervy. And maybe her weird plan is supposed to be tied to the nature of the wish. Like Ooong only asked for panties in order to stop Pilaf from wishing for world domination, so maybe that has something to do with it. There are people who spend a lot of time trying to connect these dots, but it just doesn’t make sense.
For example, Haze Shenron originated from the wish to revive Bora. What does any of that have to do with pollution? What does the wish to revive Goku have to do with electric slime? Nothing. These were just trivial matters that Toei slapped together. There is no underlying explanation for Oceanus Shenron. Someone wanted to write a morality tale about a fishing village corrupted by a false goddess, and so one of the Shadow Dragons was tailored to suit the role. It didn’t matter that the Shadow Dragons were only a few hours old, or that this one came from a wish for panties. It all just got slapped together.
✨Is This Episode Worse than "The Roaming Lake"?✨
All right, so how is the fight? Well, it’s a step up from Haze and Rage, but that’s not saying much.
Goku gets his clothes shredded by her initial attack, but Pan has a spare dogi in her backpack, so they’re back in business. Then Goku figures out that Oceanus just spins a lot, so he starts spinning too, and then they slam into each other really hard. It’s very dumb, but at least they’re hitting each other.
Oceanus still gets the upper hand, though, and manages to keep Goku pinned down. He just can’t get past the wind she creates. It blocks all his attacks, even the Kamehameha. You’d think Goku would try transforming to even the playing field, but maybe Rage Shenron spooked him out of that.
Anyway, all hope seems lost until the seagull Bish was carrying suddenly flies out of his hands and divebombs Oceanus from above. It can’t do a whole lot to her, but it does manage to get through her defenses, which gives Pan an idea. She flies directly over Oceanus and fires a Kamehameha straight down on her head. It’s like how there’s no wind in the eye of a hurricane. Oceanus is defenseless from that angle.
They make a lot out of this Kamehameha, like it’s Pan’s first, but I’m pretty sure she’s used it before in GT. This is the first time she’s used it to win a battle..... or it would have been, except Goku fires his own Kamehameha at Oceanus to finish her off. I don’t know if Pan’s was just meant as a diversion, or if the writers decided that Goku had to be involved in the finish because of Kozo Morishita’s rule against Pan actually getting to win fights or do anything cool.
The main point I want to make here is that none of this would be possible without the seagull literally showing our heroes where to shoot. As with the last two Shadow Dragons, Goku and Pan just sort of screw around the whole time, wondering why their attacks aren’t working, and then something else comes along to save them, like the underground spring Giru found, or the raincloud over Rage’s city, or this seagull.
After the fight, the fishermen thank Goku and Pan for showing them the error of their ways, and all the seagulls come out of that one boat. But they don’t have the budget for animating a flock of seagulls, so they use a bunch of still images instead. Hey, maybe don’t write stuff into the episode if you know you’re not going to be able to animate it.
Bish asks Pan to teach him how to fly next time, and Pan responds by inviting him to Mt. Paozu for lessons. Well that’s a brush-off if I’ve ever seen one. Why should he schlep all the way out to Mt. Paozu, Pan? You’re the one who can fly!
Then the episode ends with this shot of the four remaining Shadow Dragons. This is the first time we’ve seen them since the arc started. Episodes 48 and 49 had some shots of Rage and Oceanus, but the rest weren’t shown, which leads me to wonder if they hadn’t finalized their designs until this point. But that’s a problem for later.
Anyway, this episode is a lot better than the two that came before it, but that isn’t saying much. I’m still annoyed with the way they used a seagull to expose Oceanus’ weakness. Also, it’s kind of dumb that Oceanus’ weakness is just “attack from overhead”. Imagine if you could defeat Frieza that easily. But you can’t figure that out on your own, you need a seagull to demonstrate first.
✨The Blade Braxton Memorial Haiku*✨
Can Goku restore
The cracked Dragon Balls? Or will
They Break like the Wind?
#dragon ball#dragon ball gt#really sucks#2023dbapocryphaliveblog#*haiku does not come with crown as illustrated#goku#pan#giru#bish#oceanus shenron
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Jock, The Nerd , The Pretty Boy and Maybe the Weird Guy.
Warnings: Smut, M/M relationship. All Characters are over 18.
Two of them should have been in their English class, the other was on a free period where he should have been studying. Instead all three were inside one of the many bathrooms the school had to offer, what they were doing exactly wasn’t for the faint of heart. The school’s Pretty Boy Mike Salder and the Star Football player Reg Seekings were kissing, only both had their trousers and Underwear around their ankles as the school nerd Johnny Cooper was on his knees in front of them alternating between sucking each of them off and wanking who ever’s cock wasn’t being sucked. It was a symphony of sound in there. As all you could hear was the sound of panting, moaning and the wet sounds of Johnny sucking the other two off.
It had been going on for at least twenty minutes now and there was going to be no stopping them. If someone walked in it was highly doubtful that they would even stop. Murmuring “Fuck, come here” Reg tugged Johnny gentley upwards and began kissing him, as he did so Mike swapped places with Johnny and began tugging at the boy’s trousers, getting them down so he could repeat on him what he had been doing earlier. The whole thing was pretty typical of the three of them. They were a throuple and were fine with that. They hadn’t yet defined what they preferred but tended to experiment and go with whatever felt right at that moment. At this particular moment in time it was to take turns being on their Knees. Mike was in fact only the second to be on his knees in the little round of fun. They weren’t really sure how far this would escalate but knowing them it would end with something being railed against the bathroom wall.
What the three didn’t know was that there was someone heading their way. It was something they had thought about but just thought they would deal with it when it happened. The person who was heading their way was someone who no-one paid any attention to other than to remark about how weird he was. Which was a shame really as he was pretty in a disturbing kind of way. A perfect blend of masculine and feminine, what you were supposed to be attracted to and what you were supposed to be repulsed by. Yes Walter Essner was a strange duck, not just in looks but attitude. The most people knew about him was that he was eighteen, German and what his name was.
Whatever Walter expected to find behind the door of the men’s bathroom it was not what he was about to find. He was humming to himself as he walked along the corridor and then pushed open the bathroom door. The humming stopped as the door swung shut behind him and his eyes fell on the scene before him.
Walter swallowed hard as two pairs of eye’s turned to look in his direction at the sound of the door attracting their attention. Mike stopped what he was doing to look Walters' way a few seconds later, hands still wrapped around the other boys' cocks. Reg tried to hold back a laugh before saying “Like what you see?” . Walter couldn’t form a reply; he was standing there still in shock. He couldn’t quite believe it and he was pretty sure if he told anyone, not that he had any friends to tell, what he saw they wouldn’t believe him. It was a rumour, it wasn’t true people would say, you are just making it up to get attention. Walter felt like a spider trapped beneath a glass. He had no idea what he was going to do. He knew what he wanted to do but he was glued to the spot.
The three other young men in the bathroom began to speak amongst themselves, casting their eyes over to Walter on occasion as if to assess him and figure out how to handle this. It was Mike who spoke first “Why don’t we ask him if he wants to join in?” It was meant as a sort of joke but he wouldn’t mind the help, getting Johnny off took time sometimes. It was Johnny who replied with a more serious but teasing “Yeah why not he is kind of pretty” “I guess so and if he told anyone no-one would believe him anyway” Came Reg’s harsh tone. They weren’t exactly being quiet in their discussion and Walter could hear every word. He was still dazed but he was embarrassed to say it but the scene before him had gotten him excited and it was becoming very clear if the bulge in his tight jeans was anything to go by. Quickly he moved his shoulder bag to cover the bulge and tried not to blush and averted his eyes towards the ceiling.
It was Mike with his sharp eyes that noticed the moment. “Whatcha hiding there Walter?” He said standing and looking over at him properly. It would have been more intimidating if his jeans and boxers weren’t around his ankles. “N..n.nothing” He stuttered hoping they would let him go, even if he did want to join in. There was only one little problem, Walter was a virgin and his only experience was his hand. “Hmm I don’t think so” Mike replies. With a curious look between them, Reg, Mike and Johnny made their way towards him. Johnny smiled that megawatt smile of his, the one that was pretty but unnerving at the same time, as he reached out and tugged the bag out of the way. “Well, well what do we have here then?” asked Reg as all three of them stared at the bulge in Walters trousers. “Looks like someone does want to join in.”
Finding his voice properly Walter manages to say “I want to but…” “ but what?” “I don’t know how” He lets out a resigned sigh as he says the last part. “We can help with that can’t we boys?” Reg says, to which the other’s nod. “Now let's get this off and these open” he says as he pulls off Walters bag and pops open the button on his trousers. Walter lets out a little whimper, one that says he can’t quite believe this is happening. Tilting his head down he watches and Reg pulls down his zipper and tugs down his trousers. Mike and Johnny both sink to their knees, both thinking the same. It would be easy if they were to give the blowjobs instead of Walter trying, nothing was worse than a combination of a nervous person and your cock. Mike, being the gentler of the two, took up position in front of Walter, going at a slower pace than Johnny who already had his lips around Reg’s cock and was earning himself loud moans for his effort. Reg’s hands had already left Walter’s trousers leaving Mike to do the rest of the work.
Looking up at Walter, Mike gave him a reassuring smile, before hooking his fingers into the boxer briefs Walter was wearing and tugging them down. Walter’s cock sprung free and it was in Mike’s mind a pretty cock. Just above average in length and girth, with a fine patch of blonde pubes at the base. Walter is tempted to cover himself up but before he can Mike wraps a hand round the base of his cock and licks a long strip along its length, before swirling his tongue over the head and the slit that is already leaking precum. Walter lets out a moan that is pornographic and is a sound he never knew he could make. It cause’s Johnny to pause and grin up at Reg and mouth “what the fuck” and Reg to give him a gleeful look. This was going to be fun to watch and listen to.
Walter felt a shock go through him the moment Mike’s tongue touched his dick, it was like an electric bolt, the only problem was the sound that had escaped his lips which quickly had hmm mumbling “Sorry” and trying to move away. Mike didn’t let him move anywhere though but sensing Walter was nervous said “Just try and relax, you can trust me”. “You can trust me that he knows what he’s doing,” Reg quipped. Walter shuffled forward a bit and decided to trust Mike, what did he have to lose? He could either get his dick sucked by the one guy in school that he was sure half of the student body wanted to sleep with or go home and wank off silently in his bedroom and hoping his Mother didn't walk in. Mike started again as Walter shuffled closer. This time he stroked along his length slowly before taking the tip in his mouth and slowly sinking down, pressing his tongue flat against the underside of Walters cock.
Soon the bathroom was filled with the sound of gentle little moans from Walter and grunts from Reg. Small sloppy sucking sounds came from the boys on their knees. It wasn’t long before Walter knew he was about to come and gave a strangled little moan “Gonna come”. He tried to pull back feeling it would be rude to come down Mike’s throat but the other boy held him in place until he finally came panting “Fuck, fuckkkk” Pulling off of Walter with a small pop Mike stood up and wiped his lips and grinned “Enjoy yourself?” He said with a cock of his eyebrow. “Yeah,” Walter said, nodding his head eagerly. “Do you want to try and return the favour?” Mike asked.
Walter bit his lip but nodded, before moving to take up the position Mike had been in early. Sensing this could get awkward, Reg pulled Johnny to his feet and disappeared into a cubicle. It was clear seconds later that they were engaging in something completely different now, if the sounds Johnny was making were anything to go by. Walter gave Mike a few gentle strokes of his hand before working up enough never to give a small kitten lick over the head of Mike’s cock. “That’s it” Mike encouraged, spurred on Walter began to take what he could of Mike’s cock into his mouth, trying to copy the way Mike had felt around him and what he thought would feel good. “Mmm you sure you haven’t done this before?” Mike asks Walter, looking down at him, for someone who had claimed he didn’t know how, Walter was a real quick learner. Soon his efforts have Mike moaning and ready to blow, the sounds coming from the cubicle helped as well. Mike pulled back so just the tip was in Walter’s mouth then came. He watched as Walter swallowed his load down and then pulled him up and into a rough kiss, tasting himself on the other boy’s tongue. Releasing him he said “Maybe you should join us again sometime”. From inside the occupied cubicle a shout rang out “He better we didn’t get to play with him”.
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'd love to babble about portia, sandrock and especially Pen to you! My brains is a little covid addled though so depth might be a bit lacking. (I've been feeling better slowly but steadily, but this shit is not a normal flu, fuck this everything tastes extremely bitter or like nothing. Sadness.)
As for Pen and the new sandrock update, I felt like that mission with Pen training you genuinely really revealed a lot about his character. I can't really put it into words right now. But I genuinely like him, despite what he did. I don't think he is entirely black and white. And while it's not the same 100%, as a perfectionist and someone who is always thinking about how others perceive me I can relate somewhat.
Oh gosh, that's awful. Don't push yourself if you're unwell! (●´□`)♡
I've somehow dodged Covid all this time (as I punch a hole through the nearest wooden object, lmao) so I'm not even going to pretend I understand how crummy you must feel. I hope it passes asap with no aftermath issues to deal with!!
Also to anyone reading: SPOILERS!
I hope putting it like that always draws the eye, haha.
I agree, I can't see him as a black and white character either. What he decides is worth spending his time on says a lot to me, honestly. Like in Simply the Best, I feel like what he says leading up to the mission to be really interesting. It shows Pen is potentially self-aware of himself and what he is as a super soldier.
He has "unconventional tastes" with dates and only "feels alive on the battlefield". It's also the only time we see him freely complimenting the Builder separate from himself, iirc. Also using the term 'love' in a few ways.
To me, it came across like Pen was trying to take it more seriously and that was likely new to him. He broached the subject of what interested him and made it clear enough to the Builder, acknowledged attraction physically and wanting to see if it went beyond that. Almost like he was voicing in his own way a manner of uncertainty and poking around to see if this whole 'true love' thing was real. Real and mutual. All sandwiched between his usual egotistical comments about himself we know and expect (and love).
But that's also interesting to me because in his role, if he's really a Knight, or by just being an experimented upon super soldier - I imagine he could be someone important to Duvos. Not to say Duvos cares about their soldiers, we have no real proof of that. But if he was a successful experiment, as it seems, that may be what warranted this ego in the first place. So maybe the idea of sharing yourself with someone else, or finding them even good enough, probably is something he thinks is reasonable to be picky with.
Also even if there was the chance the Builder was accepting of him if they learned the truth then it's even more imperative they are worth something to Duvos. Pen vouching because he loves them as their super soldier I don't think is enough for them to accept a non-Duvos citizen. At least, that's my impression given how everyone seems to regard both the country and its people so far.
I feel like Pen is always saying more than what it seems. Combat tutorial was funny and great but you could say he was also just trying to assess someone new on the board. You can argue the whole heart knot acceptance and romance mission is a manipulation scheme but that still makes me ask why. Why is that worth his time when there are surely easier people to turn into his fans or have fawn over him? Was he just bored and is actually nasty and cruel?
I don't think from his perspective that the Builder is a threat, not until Knives Out hits and they have potentially met Logan after taking a fall. Then there's a slightly awkward 'welcome back' from him that seems torn between acknowledging it as your pal/partner Pen and Duvos's spy Pen.
Gosh I'm rambling but yeah, I don't think he's black and white. I think he is all the things he presents all at once. It's just a matter of how self-aware he is in that moment, or how much he cares. The context of the situation and who is present. But either way, the perception of others means a lot to him given both his true role and the protector role. And I think that carries over to how the Builder perceives him, just in a more personal manner the more they get on.
It makes me want more romance missions with him and all that content just to see more of him in contexts outside of what we consider his norm.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Edward Teach and Bipolar: A Theory
I've been chewing on this for a bit - and if someone's already made a post about it, please let me know - but hear me out: I believe Edward suffers from a manic episode in episodes 4-9. I feel like he's written as Bipolar coded, and exhibits symptoms consistent with the disorder. If we look at his actions being informed through this lens, I feel a lot of his behavior/actions/relationships make more sense.
Full disclaimer, I am only speaking from my own lived experiences dealing with diagnosed Bipolar I. I am not a medical professional. Bipolar disorder is defined as a severe mood disorder where the person who has it cycles through intense episodes of (hypo)mania and depression (high highs and low lows). It manifests itself differently from person to person.
Manic episodes can last anywhere between a week to months. OFMD takes place in the span of a few weeks. This timeline checks out with the theory of Bipolar, because Edward "crashes" in episode 10. He went from a high high of impulsively wanting to run away with Stede, to a low low of becoming the Kraken. While, yes, heartbreak & betrayal are factors here, I don't believe they're solely to blame. They merely helped trigger (along with Izzy) the sudden drop to depression. In a sense, episode 10 is a climax to what we know of Edward: that he reacts disproportionately to things due to his emotional dysregulation.
When we meet Edward in episode 4, he's "bored out of his skull" with "increasingly erratic moods" whose crew has been worried about his judgement. We get a glimpse of this erratic behavior when he and Izzy are going through Stede's trinkets. At first, Edward seems fine, having a good laugh about the trinkets, yet when Izzy tells him he needs to focus, to plan, it triggers Edward to whiplash right into irritableness.
The suicidal ideation that comes next is masked as a threat. It is a power play to Izzy. A "fuck around and find out" in the most manipulative way. Edward's reaction is completely disproportionate to Izzy's request for him to focus, though. He's hot and he's cold on a dime.
Another thing to point out here, is that Edward is easily distracted by unrelated/unimportant things (i.e. the trinkets). This feeds into his hyperfixations. He has a lack of concentration too.
Yet another example of a disproportionate emotional response in episode 4 is when Izzy corrects him that it's not the date Edward believes it to be. Instead of figuring out an alternative plan, Edward immediately feels hopeless enough to give up and go get drunk. "Captain goes down with the ship". This seriously concerns Izzy, breaks the camel's back, because not even six hours beforehand, Edward had threatened suicide. And Edward's resigned to the outlook of death until the lighthouse plan works, then suddenly he's back to seemingly wanting to live again. It's whiplash after whiplash.
Izzy called him a "shell of a man", which is an assessment that Edward agrees with. Oftentimes while manic — and I have felt this too — people lose their sense of identity. All that's left is a shell of who you used to be pre-episode, and depending on the severity of the episode, that person can be unrecognizable. The loss of identity coincides heavily with Edward's character arc, as he tries to reinvent himself out of Blackbeard and into Ed.
Another way to read this reinvention is through the idea that Edward "quits his job" impulsively out of the boredom he feels. He "works for" Blackbeard. He used to love working for Blackbeard, used to be high-functioning at his job, too. To suddenly want to quit and retire? That's wild. That rightfully sets off alarm bells in other characters (namely Izzy).
Impulsivity is another symptom of mania. Edward is shown repeatedly to be impulsive throughout the season. The biggest example is his plan to sail with Stede to China in episode 9. He's euphoric in this scene, happier than we've ever seen him. The euphoria doesn't last. I don't believe it would've lasted even if Stede had met him on the docks, based on the prior knowledge that his boredom eventually comes back.
(Quick note about the docks: it's a fantastic scene to analyze, because Edward doesn't go looking for Stede. He's in his head the entire time he's waiting for him.)
Boredom is commonly present in Bipolar manic episodes. Feelings of restlessness often occur and Edward exhibits them to a T. He distracts himself from this by hyperfixating on Stede and Stede's way of doing things, and it works until episode 7. Edward is once again bored, saying he "can't stay around here forever" and that he "wasn't built for sitting idle".
When manic, interpersonal relationships become tumultuous. You can see this clearly displayed through his codependent relationship with Izzy, and then again in episode 10 with the rest of the Revenge crew.
His relationship with Stede is no different. He places Stede on a pedestal of sorts ("I suppose what makes Ed happy is...you"). He's got the rose colored glasses on to the point where he doesn't even see Stede for what he is: a deeply flawed man. Then when Stede hurts him for the first time, he whiplashes and devalues him completely.
Episode 10 is the inevitable crash of depression after mania. In my experience, the higher the highs, the lower the lows. We see Edward isolated in his room for days, captain's quarters a mess. He's singing about hanging on by a thread. His suicidal ideation is back. He's out of it and vulnerable. My man is not doing so hot.
But then his mood swings yet again by getting the impulsive idea to throw a talent show. He even begins to clean his room. And Izzy? Izzy's had enough of his erratic behavior.
Keep in mind, at the beginning of episode 4, Izzy's stressed to his limit already with Edward and his moods. It's not easy navigating life with someone who has untreated bipolar, it's very very difficult. Izzy is an angry little man, and he is a right freak, but he's loyal to a terrible fault. This entire season, he's trying to protect Edward from himself. The man he loves is on a mental health decline and he isn't equipped to deal with it. He can't blame Edward, so he thinks it's Stede's fault ("done something to my boss' brain").
Izzy allows Edward space and privacy to grieve Stede without much flack. He even covers for him, but he's clearly strained by it. When Edward goes public with his depression and says "Why are we even pirates?", it's a slap in the face to the "support" Izzy's shown him thus far. It reaffirms that no, Edward is not well. Edward is, in Izzy's mind, worse.
Izzy, having had enough of this and wanting to go back to the way things were pre-manic episode, triggers Edward into violence. He is a direct cause of Edward going back to black and embracing the Kraken. In fact, it's safe to say that Izzy himself is a massive trigger for Edward.
The Kraken is a coping mechanism for Edward's severe depression and heartbreak. It is an extreme the same way the persona of Ed is an extreme. Where Ed is open and warm and soft, the Kraken is cold and violent and closed off. He abuses alcohol while in this persona, as alluded to by him drinking from a bottle of rum he carries around on deck. People with Bipolar have a higher rate of substance abuse/addiction. This behavior checks out.
And that's where the season ends.
Again, this reading of Edward is just a theory I've been chewing on. I'm sure there are more examples I haven't gone into, but I hope what I have makes sense
#i worked too hard on this to not post lol#edward teach#blackbeard#ofmd#ofmd meta#reddit saw it first lol
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
It feels like I've been trained since I was a child to pass the allistic Turing test, and since I take well to training, I can "do" that (?), so I must not be, and it's like turning out the same for my kid.
Except in situations where we have insufficient data to output a desirable human outcome, we completely lock up and break down and go and hide in the bathroom to cry and text our friends and literally Google normal human responses to normal human social situations because not once in our 30 years of on-the-job sink-or-swim you're-just-supposed-to-get-it training have we encountered this unique blend of human personalities and we have no idea how to respond. (when I say our I mean me and my husband because my husband is objectively autistic and my daughter is not 30)
Like, when I see she struggles with doctor's appointments, so I think, "You know, when I was her age I really would've appreciated a detailed breakdown of what's going to happen and what's expected of me," so I DO THAT THING FOR HER. But then that's the appointment I bring up getting an autism assessment because of all this empirical data I collected, only I've detailed-ly prepared her for this appointment, so her doctor looks at me like I'm stupid because she's way more confident and able to handle this appointment.
> hamilton
> you looked at me like I was stupid, I'm not stupid
Did you know today I texted a group of trusted people (who I've drunkenly confided in abt spectrum suspicions but not sober or explicitly) asking if they would hand-write or type and print a note to a professional mentor, but then I didn't have the courage (when they said hand-write) to ask if they would do it on lined or unlined paper? So I just didn't write the note at all because it caused me a great deal of anxiety wondering about this and evaluating the pros & cons of either option? And I couldn't tell which pros/cons would be a bigger deal to someone else, namely the person I have gotten to know over the past year?
I don't even know what I'm looking for? Validation, understanding, community, explanation, I guess. Tips on how to better pass the allistic Turing test, I guess. Not having to hide in a bathroom to cry anymore, probably, which I did as recent as one (1) month ago as a grown ass adult in my 30s because I finagled my way into a party of fellow parents which is a situation I've never been involved in before and promptly BSOD'd so bad I had to hide and text some safe friends about it.
I don't know where I was looking to go with this so I'll just end with this: I wish it wasn't so hard and I wish people were more forgiving and understanding. AI is scary but exciting and I can relate a lot to it and it makes me think a lot of thoughts about myself and the people I care about. I don't want my daughter to have to feel like I felt all the fucking time growing up. I want her to like herself and not hate herself because everyone around her doesn't understand and is confused and overwhelmed by her. I want better for her.
What good is passing the test on paper if realistically everyone can tell you didn't and hates you for it?
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Evil Roommate
pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers
warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise
requested : yes!
word count 6.2k
summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.
“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”
The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.
“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”
“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”
Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.
“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”
Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.
“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”
A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?
“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”
His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.
“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”
“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”
Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.
“Who the fuck said you could touch me?
“Did you just fucking slap me?”
“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”
“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”
You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”
“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”
Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.
“Can you get to the point please?”
“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”
A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.
“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”
Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.
You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.
Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.
“Y/n?”
Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.
“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.
“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”
The arm he had around her waist made you sick.
“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.
“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”
“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”
You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.
“Uh no thanks Y/N-”
“We should all hang out!”
The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.
“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”
“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.
“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”
You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling
“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”
You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.
“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”
The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.
“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”
“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.
Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.
“Hello?”
His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.
“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”
“What do you need me to do?”
You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.
“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”
“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”
“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”
“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”
“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”
And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.
You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.
“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.
“Y/n what are you doing-”
“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?
Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.
“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.
“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”
She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.
“Let’s play a game!”
“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”
“I think that’s a great idea!”
You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.
“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”
***
Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.
“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”
Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.
“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”
“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”
“Yes you have.”
All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.
“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.
“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”
Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.
Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-
“Y/N? Y/N!”
The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.
“When?”
As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.
“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”
“I’m not saying it here in front of-”
“Who? Chaeyeon?”
Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.
“It was in the car.”
Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.
“The car?”
You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.
Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?
“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”
“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.
“Do you want this?”
“What?”
A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.
“I said, do you want this?”
“Do you?”
His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.
“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”
Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.
“Kiss me if you want me.”
He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.
“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”
You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.
“Fuck it.”
He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.
“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”
“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.
“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”
A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”
“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”
“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.
But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”
You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.
“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”
“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.
“Are you being serious right now?”
The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.
“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”
“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.
“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.
“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”
His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.
“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.
“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”
A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?
“Minho I’m-”
“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”
His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.
“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”
“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”
You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.
“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”
“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”
“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.
“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”
The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.
“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.
“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.
“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”
“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”
“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one
who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”
There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.
“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.
“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”
“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”
Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.
“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”
“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”
“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.
“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”
Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.
“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.
“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.
“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”
The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.
Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.
“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.
“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”
It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.
“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”
“You wanna cum baby?”
“Yeah.”
“You wanna cum right now?”
“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.
“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”
And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.
“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.
“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.
“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”
He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”
You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.
“Why don’t you find out and see?”
#lee minho#minho#leeknow#stray kids#lino#lee minho smut#skz smut#leeknow scenario#stray kids smut#stray kids scenario#dom leeknow#dom lee minho#dom lino#lino smut#ch4nb4ng
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
harmless (viii)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst
Word count: 3.5k
A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Previous Part || Series Masterlist
He doesn’t expect to see you on TV.
In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.
But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.
You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest.
He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.
Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.
You better get your ass here, sarge
And so he does.
Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.
“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self.
“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”
“What’s your dumb plan then?”
“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”
“Where is it?”
“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”
Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm.
The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.
There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.
“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”
“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.
“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”
He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”
“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”
He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.
“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction.
“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.”
Bucky looks down.
“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”
“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”
“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”
“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”
“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”
Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.
"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.”
“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.
“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”
He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.
“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”
“No. Stay there.”
“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.
“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.
“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked.
When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome.
“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.
“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.
He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went.
“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence.
Now that simply wouldn’t do.
Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.
“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.
“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”
“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.
“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him.
“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”
He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure.
“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”
“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat.
“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”
“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.
He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-
“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand.
You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.
“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you.
“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.
“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.
“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately.
If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.
The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair.
“What the fu-”
“Hello,” your voice comes from above him.
“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.
“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”
He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.
“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.
There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.
“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.
“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.
“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.
“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate.
“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.
“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.
“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.
“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him.
He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.
“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”
He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.
“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help.
He rolls his eyes.
You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand.
He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory.
He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.
The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.
“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”
He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.
“Right.” You clear your throat.
He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance.
“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”
“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.
“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”
He didn’t.
“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”
Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?
“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”
“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?”
He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back.
“You go on missions a lot?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.
He got that reference.
“What’s your favourite food then?”
He scrunches his eyebrows.
“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”
It’s not, he’s just never thought about it.
“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Pasta?”
“Vague, but I’ll take it.”
He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own.
It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side.
“What do you do in your downtime?”
“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.
“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm.
There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?
“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”
You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?”
He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.
“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”
“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him.
The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.
“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually.
He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.
Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle.
“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”
He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that.
Frankly, he’s a little stunned.
You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”
At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.
A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.
You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there.
“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”
“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”
“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.
“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage.
He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets.
Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-
“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”
Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”
He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.
The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints.
You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.
“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job.
“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”
Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.
Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.
He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.
Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.
You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.
You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.
“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”
He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder.
“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.”
He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.
“You wanted to talk to me.”
He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”
“Bullshit,” you laugh.
“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”
“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”
He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too.
Next part
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#harmless fic#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier#bucky barnes#bucky
978 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rager Teenager.
Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader
Word Count: 2900.
Alex doesn’t even look shocked when she sees you landing in her backyard, dropping a bag of clothes loudly on the ground.
“Hey.” You greet her with a smile, looking at her standing in the doorway with a glass of wine in her hands.
“Running away, kiddo?” She points at the bag, but she means it like a joke. Let’s just say you were quite generous with the amount of clothes you packed. You could be leaving the house for a month, for what it’s worth. Yet, no one would actually think that you are running away from home.
“Yep.” You shrug it off. Her eyebrows are pinched together immediately. “Can I stay?”
Alex moves away from the door, giving you space to walk in. “Should I call your moms to let them know or-?”
“Nah, they’re aware.” You pick up your bag and make your way inside, passing her on the way in. “Hi, aunt Kelly. Where’s Jamie?”
“Oh, hi.” Kelly smiles at you from her wine glass. She then acknowledges the bag, pointing at it with her face. “Is that some big creation or something fun for you two to do?”
“Actually, just my clothes. I’m moving in.” You smile making your way to the stairs. “Indefinitely.”
“Oh. Sounds fun.” Kelly gives you two thumbs up, not looking as amused as she made it sound. “Your cousin is upstairs.”
“Cool. Thanks for letting me stay.” You say, making your way to Jamie’s bedroom to surprise her.
You are aware they didn’t exactly let you stay. Especially not ‘indefinitely’. But you know they would never say no to you, just like your moms would never say no to Jamie if she wanted to stay at your house. You also know that Alex is probably calling Kara right now, and that at some point tonight Kelly will try to assess how you’re feeling, claiming this is an open safe space.
It’s annoying that they’ll treat you like you’re the one that needs to talk about your feelings and understand them. You do understand what you’re feeling. You’re feeling like they think you should be ok with the fact that you don’t need their attention anymore. And of course you don’t need it. But you want it.
Your moms have always been your best friend. You tell them everything and you like that. You like the fact that you don’t have to be rebellious to get their attention, because you are the most important person in their lives, and you liked that feeling.
But well, now things are different. Maybe you need to change a little. Make a little trouble. Be a rebel rascal. A wild child. A rager teenager.
“Hey!” You drop your bag in a loud thud on the floor, making Jamie look up from her phone.
“I see you finally brought back all the things you borrowed from me.” She points at the bag with her eyes, and you roll yours in response.
“You wish.” You throw yourself on her bed, in front of her. “I’m actually moving in.”
“You don’t say.” She throws her phone to the side, looking at you with curiosity in her eyes. “Well, go on. Let’s hear it.”
You tell her everything and Jamie looks amused that the first time you’re throwing a tantrum is over something so dumb as not getting their attention. Says the girl who doesn’t pick up her phone at eight -not even in a life-threatening situation- because that’s her catch up time with her moms.
“So your big rebellious act is coming to my house?” You nod. “I would’ve thought staying with, I don’t know, Lillian Luthor would be far more dramatic.”
“Should I?” You ask out loud, but you’re actually talking to yourself. “No, right? No. That’s insane.” Is it? Yes, yes it is. “But I do have another rebellious idea in my baggage.”
Jamie zeroes in the bag you brought in. Sure the bag is big, but it doesn’t fit what you’re thinking.
“Not my actual bag.” You roll your eyes. “I meant my emotional baggage.”
“Oh, that’s a lot bigger than that one.” She agrees with her head, making her point. You look at the enormous bag on the floor of her bedroom.
“No, it’s not.”
“Hey, remember that time you almost died?”
“Which one?” You ask and she gives you a satisfied grin, like she is saying ‘touché’. Yeah, you guess she has a point.
“ANYWAYS!” You say, trying to ignore her. “Movies!”
See, it was kind of obvious that you wouldn’t be good at being rebellious. You never had to do this before. You’ve only seen it in movies. Ok, so let’s try what movies did. In Harry Potter, Hermione's big rebellious act was erasing her parents' mind. Huh. That you have the means to do. But no, that’s insane. Right? Right! Making your moms forget you is insane! Maybe you should think of rom-coms or teen movies. Hm, in ‘Mean Girls’ Cady throws a party when they’re parents aren’t in the house and dresses slutty or whatever. You can’t pull any of this off. Who would come to your party? How would you kick your moms out of the house? And you would rather die than dress slutty.
“Movies.” Jamie repeats, incredulous. “You know, for a genius you really lack basic information at times.” She says making you gruff. “You want to be rebellious? Steal Lena’s BMW, sneak out, go to a party, get drunk-”
“I can’t exactly get drunk unless it is alien alcohol.” You add.
“Steal alien alcohol.” She adds to the list, a little disgruntled that you made her lose her train of thought. “Make me go with you.”
“You’re literally giving me the idea.”
“Hmm, yes. Because I’m dying to go to this party Maya told me about, but I need plausible deniability. As in-”
“If your moms ask, it was all my fault?” You ask with an eyebrow raise and she agrees with her head. “Ok, fine. I’ll take the blame. But I think we can be more rebellious than that.” You give her a wicked smile. “Can you imagine how crazy it would be if-” You take off your glasses. “She went to a party?”
“WHAT!” Jamie sits straighter in bed looking equally terrified and excited. “No! You can’t have Superkid go to a party! She is a SUPER! Kara would absolutely kill you.”
“What’s the point of only pissing off Lena? I do that way too much already.” You throw yourself back in bed, thinking about it. “Besides, no one wants a Luthor in their party. Now, who’s going to say no to Superkid?”
“Ok, wait a minute. I-I-” You can tell you have made Jamie really confused when you leave her speechless. “Superkid doesn’t even exist anymore, and you want to bring her back just so you can go to a party?”
“Superkid doesn’t-'' You laugh, then furrow your brows. Holy shit, people still think you’re not supering anymore. “Oh, yeah, about that. I’ve been supering in secret ever since I came back from that other reality.”
“You-” Jamie’s mouth comically open wide like a cartoon character. “But-You-And then-I don’t get it.”
“See? That’s why I’ve been doing it in secret.”
Because how do you do it? How do you go back to being a superhero when you made such a big deal about not ever wanting to be a superhero ever again in your life? How do you unsay it?
Should you just come back home and be like ‘oh yeah, by the way, Superkid exists again, and you have to go back to worrying about me, Lena. And yes, Kara, you might have to go to outer space save me again a couple of times. No biggy. Good night!’
So you don't, right? You sneak in in secret instead. Pray you don't die on the job. Pray they don't find out. And mostly, you pray that you're doing the correct thing, because it's the righteous thing to do and not because you selfishly want that powerful feeling you had before.
“So for weeks you’ve been going around National City saving people and no one knew?” You nod. She needs to make sure. Jamie slaps your arm like you could feel pain. “You didn’t even tell me?”
“I’m telling you right now. Before anyone else.” She still rolls her eyes at you. “Come on, it’s a great way for Superkid to do her comeback. At a party, dancing with stupid teens.” Jamie looks unconvinced. “We can still take Lena’s car.”
“Why would we need it? You can just fly us there.”
“Yeah, I know. But it will piss off Lena.” You give her another wicked grin. “I’ll let you drive.”
“Yeah, ok, cool.”
Simple as that.
So it’s Friday night, Jamie agrees she will go to the party with Maya, and you told your girlfriend you were grounded. Yes, it’s a lie. But barely. You’re sure you’ll be grounded right after this, anyways.
It’s before midnight when both of your aunts say goodnight and go to bed. Kelly makes sure she schedules a ‘talking about your feelings’ session right on Saturday morning with you, before she leaves, though. Ugh, this won’t be fun.
You give them some time, then use your super hearing to make sure they are asleep, before you fly out the window and look for Lena. Like you suspected it’s Friday night and she’s made it back to L Corp, after you left home. Rao, you’re so mad.
You fly home and check for Kara’s presence. All clear. Must be tailing Arnold McKenan or running away from her problems. For someone so brave, you can’t believe how much of a coward she is when it comes to Lena. Rao, you’re raging.
You grab Lena’s car keys, your supersuit in their closet, and then pick the car up and drop off in front of Jamie. You love Jamie, and you know she drives better than you do, but still you fly behind her car the entire time to make sure she is safe. Damn the car, if it was for you, you would toss it in the ocean, it’s Jamie you care about.
“Holy!” Maya says, when she slides in the car. “That’s-wow! Did you steal this?”
“For sure.” Jamie smiles and drives off, leaving nothing but tire marks behind.
“Is that why Superkid is following us?” Maya asks, and you smile to yourself.
“Nah. She was saving a kitten and I asked if she wanted to come to a party. Now, she’s following the car.”
“WHAT!” Maya yells, sounding excited. “You’re joking! We’re going to a party with Superkid?” She gets nothing but a nod. “Holy fucking shit! I can’t believe my girlfriend won’t be there. Maybe we could convince her to sneak out?”
“Please. Do you even know your girlfriend?” You hear Jamie’s response. “She would never.” You scoff. “Besides, I don’t want to be third-wheeling all night. You guys are awfully handsy.”
“Yeah, well. She’s hot.” Maya says, making you smile even more. “Here. We’re here.” And so Jamie parks.
“Hi!” You open the car’s door to Maya, giving you her hand so she can exit the car. “I’m Superkid.”
“Of course you are.” She manages to say, looking red as a tomato.
“Your friend Jamie said it was ok if I came. I hope I’m not intruding on anything.”
“NO! No! Not at all. You’re more than welcomed. I mean, it’s not my party, but I’m guessing you will be more than welcome. I mean, who wouldn’t want Superkid in their party, right? So yeah you’re welcome! Anyways, you cool? I’m cool.” She rambles, making you and Jamie share a look. “Oof, I’m sweating.”
“Don’t be nervous.” You put your hand on her shoulder for a light squeeze. “I’m just a normal teen.”
She wheezes out a laugh. “I don’t know about normal.”
“More than you think. Shall we?” You point inside the house, and she agrees with her head. They fall a little behind you, and you can hear Maya whispering.
“Doesn’t she look awfully familiar?”
“Haven’t you met her before a few times?” Jamie saves you and you smile when Maya agrees, and lets it go.
Let’s just say going to a party as Superkid is on the top of the best ideas you’ve ever had. Superkid is a big hit. There’s even a line so people can take pictures with you. And they all love you. You’ve never felt so loved in your life. This was exactly what you needed.
It sucks that alcohol does literally nothing to you, but you still enjoy watching Jamie and Maya getting louder and flushed and talking nonsense to you all night. So this is what it's like to be a normal teenage girl? You’ll take it.
It is also very exciting that Maya can’t ever stop bringing your name up. The real you. Not Superkid. Not you in this shiny suit. The nerdy you that is apparently home, texting her so she can enjoy the party.
The night goes on and you don’t think once about Lena in her stupid office, doing her dreary paperwork, acting like that fucking company is more important than your family’s existence. You also don’t think about Kara in that stupid DEO, doing her dreary patrol, acting like the fucking world is more important than your family’s wellbeing. Or maybe you thought about it once or twice. But not as much as you would if you were home alone waiting for them. But hey, you shouldn’t be thinking about them! They sure as hell aren’t thinking about you right now.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Jamie says looking at her phone. “It’s mami! She probably noticed I’m not in my bedroom.”
“It’s ok. Let me see that.” You grab her phone. “I’ll take this up in the sky, so she doesn’t hear all the noise.”
“You’re going to answer her phone?” Maya asks, and you realize that it doesn’t make a lot of sense for you to be answering the phone of some girl you just met. Damn! Maya still makes sense even with all the alcohol.
“Oh. Um. I’m really good at impressions!” You say with a smile. But you can’t actually impersonate Jamie. You put both hands on your waist and look up. “Hope, help, and compassion for all.” Then you smile. “That was Supergirl.”
“It was perfect.” She says, and now the alcohol is probably doing the effect again.
“Ok! Gotta go!” You fly up and notice that a bunch camera flashes follow you. Feels good to be loved. “Heeeey auntie.”
“Where the hell are the two of you?” Kelly yells through her phone and you actually have to take it off your ear, because it’s too loud.
“Oh!” Think of something, come on. “We’re at-at the Fortress. I brought Jamie to help me look for this thing-”
“And none of you thought it was a good idea to let us know that? We were here thinking she was kidnapped!”
“By whom?”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s a new threat every day in this town! A few weeks ago you literally vanished from your bedroom one night!” Oh, that. What a cool funny story, that no one thinks is cool nor fun, except you. Kelly exhales. “Why didn’t she pick up the phone herself?”
“Oh! I think she got lost in one of the rooms.” You hate that you’re lying so much. You never once lied to Kelly before. What if she just knows? “Don’t worry, auntie. We’re safe, and will be back home in bed soon, ok? Go to bed, everything is ok. Goodnight!”
You hang up before she answers. Way to be suspicious. You come back to the party and see Jamie hyperventilating afraid of the conversation you just had.
“We should go.”
“Relax, I handled it.” You pick up another jello shot, putting on Jamie’s hand. “Chill, I’ve got this. No one will ever know.”
And when you make it back home and park Lena’s car exactly like it was parked -in all honesty Jamie couldn’t parallel park so you picked it up and put it in its place-, you think no one will ever know. And when you and Jamie sneak in her bedroom and go straight to bed, and none of her moms wake up, you are sure no one will ever know.
Wouldn’t it be nice if that was actually the case? But when you wake up the next morning… Oh, crap. Oh, shit. Oh, no. What are Kara and Lena doing here?
#supergirl#kara danvers#supercorp#supercorpfamily#lena luthor#supercorp daughter#kara x lena#kara x reader#supercorp fanfic#lena x reader#alex danvers#kelly olsen
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Other Sinclair
Stranger Things; Black!reader x Everybody
Description: Lucas’ older sister gets back in town and is not very happy to hear about the events that took place. Especially when it comes to someone putting their hands on her little brother.
Warnings: I mean.....mild violence, but again this page is 18+ so y’all be aite
(Unedited .)
“5 minutes Lucas! I leave you guys for 5 got damn minutes and everything goes to shit!”
Y/n was livid.
It wasn’t really anyone’s intention for her to find out. Lucas knew better than to involve her unless he really needed to. If there was one thing she didn’t play about it with her family. It would’ve all been fine too, however when Y/n saw Steve, she asked what happened to his face and he couldn’t help but blurt everything out. Now, being that she was included in all the events the previous year it didn’t come as a surprise that the moment she left for 2 weeks for the cheerleading competition they’d get themselves into more shit.
“I just want to know what made him think he could put his hands on you!”
Now she knew about the new kid and his rivalry with Steve. That was purely their egos and a mess full of entirely too much testosterone and high school cliche for her to bother with. That would come to pass as Steve was proving to be less and less of asshole everyday. But to hear Steve’s face, though healing, looked like that as a result of protection her little brother and the rest of the kids..
No, ma’am.
“Was anyone gonna tell me?” She fussed at the preteens.
“It’s over, we handled it.” Lucas groaned knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.
“Uh huh. I’m sure.” The elder Sinclair rolled her eyes, arms crossed and hip poked out. “And this Billy kid is related to who? Your little girlfriend right?”
Y/n’s gaze quickly shifted to the girl in question.
“Yeah. H-hi. I’m Max.”
Y/n said nothing, just continued to stare and assess the child. Finally she smiled.
“Max, you look like a sweet kid and I really don’t wanna not like you. So spill. What’s his deal?”
Max twiddled her fingers only hesitated for a moment before she gave her boyfriend‘s sister the backstory on her stepbrother and his dad. Giving her a little bit of detail about how he also felt about black people.
“Interesting. And where can I find this Hargrove?” Y/n inquired.
“The arcade.” Max answered.
Nodding she went over to the front door of the Sinclair residence and opened the door.
“Ma, I’m taking the boys to the arcade with Steve.”
Barely take time to get a response, she grabbed her house keys off the hook and closed the door behind her.
“Y/n I don’t think-“ Steve began but she cut him of.
“Don’t hurt yourself doing that.”
“This isn’t a good idea.” Lucas mumbled.
“I don’t remember asking you.” Y/n replied.
“I forgot that’s where Erica gets it-“ Dustin commented in a failed attempt to whisper.
“Shut up Dustin. Everybody in the car.” She snatched the keys from Steve. “And I’m driving.”
The ride to the arcade was quiet, everyone afraid to speak as Y/n drove them the short distance a little quicker than usual. Soon as they pulled up, she parked randomly and they all hopped out.
“Where is he?”
Max looked around before pointing him out.
Once Y/n laid eyes on him she scoffed before rolling them. There stood Billy Hargrove leaning against his car with Tommy and a few girls fawning over him. He looked like the king of douche bags like he had some grade A daddy issues. Any other time she’d feel for him, but he did the one thing he shouldn’t have and that was a mess with her little brother.
“Hold these.” She practically shoved her pompoms in Steve’s hands before heading for Billy.
“Babe,” but the look y/n gave Steve shut him up.
All The kids followed her protesting the entire way trying to get her to change their mind scared of what Billy might do to her regardless of the deal he made with Max. After all, she was just a stranger approaching him in a hostile way, and the gang expected nothing more than for him to react in true Billy. Steve on the other hand, was preparing to possibly receive another busted lip if Billy decided to retaliate and even think about raising his hand to her. He’d go out fighting again if need be. However Y/n wasn’t scared.
Less than a few feet away she bawled her fist, feeling all the anger toward the white boy surface.
“Hey asshole!”
He barely spared them a glance before doing a double take. Once he spotted his sister and her friends a cocky smirk planted itself on his face.
“Well well if it isn’t the losers-“ y/n held up her hand to silence him, her steps coming to a halt.
“You Billy Hargrove?” She pretended to smile flirtatiously.
“Who’s asking princess?” He asked with a cocky smirk, giving her a once over.
“Y/n Sinclair.” And with that Y/n cocked her arm back and punch him squads in face.
“Well, shit.”, Dustin said as the rest of the party gasped.
Wow they didn’t hear a crack or anything, they could see Billy’s now blooded nose, leaking while he grabbed it.
“Fuck! You bitch!” He quickly got in Y/n’s face to where she took a step closer staring up at him.
“I dare you.” Y/n challenged not even flinching as his nostrils flared and fist balled at his side as if he was thinking about retaliating.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but put your hands on my little brother,” she pointed at Lucas. “Again and I promise you’ll have bigger problems when my brother and daddy gets a hold of you and yours.”
“Brother?” Billy repeated sounding surprised.
“Howard Star QB.” She smirked.
Anthony Sinclair was older than Y/n by two years. Currently not present since he was off at Howard University but that could all change with a phone call from her or Erica.
“Are we clear?” She asked crossing her arms.
Billy continued to glare at her as he held his blooded nose, but nodded nonetheless.
“Manners, William. Use your words.”
“Yeah, yeah, now fuck off.”
“Glad we’re on the same page Willy.” She smiled before turning back toward the kids who all continued to stare in shock.
“Are you sure Mrs. Wheeler is picking you up?”
“Yeah-“ they chorused.
“Mom.” Dustin added.
“Good! I’ll see you at home Luke. Bye guys.” She smiled taking her pom poms from Steve and heading to his car.
“Oh. And don’t touch Steve either.” She called over her shoulder. “He’s also mine.”
“Wow,” spoke El and Max in awe
“She’s scary when she’s mad.” Mike commented.
“Yeah.” Steve agreed. “And hot.”
“Very hot.” Dustin added earning a punch in the arm from Lucas and A hit upside the head from Steve
“Come on Harrington.” Y/n beckoned from the passenger seat. “This ice cream isn’t going to pay for itself.”
The teenager grinned to himself goofily as he headed toward his car.
“Yes ma’am!”
#steve harrington#stranger things imagine#billy hargove imagine#billy Hargrove#billy harrington#stranger things#black!reader#Steve Harrington x black!reader#writers on tumblr
921 notes
·
View notes
Text
Someone Else (I'm Still Right Here)
also on ao3
minor warning for Geralt coming on to Jask when he doesn't know who he is, but nothing comes from it.
They've hardly been in town long enough for anything to go wrong and yet, Jaskier finds his thoughts interrupted by banging on the door of their room. If it was Geralt, he would simply let himself in even if he didn't have his hands free to open the door properly, so it must be important. Jaskier rises from the bed, setting his lute aside with a sigh. He detests being interrupted while he's working for anything less than an emergency - and judging by the fact that the knock hasn't come again, this is hardly an emergency.
He saunters to the door, pulling it open to find the face of the innkeeper's wife staring back at him anxiously.
"Sorry to interrupt," she says, "it's your Witcher, sir. Something's happened and no one is... well, they're all afraid to get too close to him. They called in the healer from the next town, but-"
Jaskier frowns. The contract was for a pair of drowners, not even a nest of the damn things. Geralt could have taken them out in his sleep - so what went so terribly wrong?
Jaskier lets himself be led downstairs, doing his best to mask worry with intrigue, but it isn't working. The innkeeper's wife leads him to the edge of the forest where her husband is waiting, a look of pained concern on his face. Jaskier's stomach drops as the man just points into the trees, and he hurries forward without delay. If the people in town won't help Geralt, he will certainly do his best.
When he finds him, Geralt is in a bad state. His eyes are still dark from the potions - probably why the locals wouldn't come near - and there's blood streaked down the side of his face.
Jaskier stays quiet. It's bad enough that Geralt can hear his pulse racing, he doesn't need to make his fear any more obvious to him. He kneels down on the soft ground, assessing the damage before moving him. He's learned from experience that one wrong move can make a wound worse rather than better.
"Okay," he says once he's satisfied. "I'm just gonna pull this off," he taps on Geralt's left pauldron, "make sure your head is the only thing you banged up." Jaskier frowns as he says it, but Geralt seems, as usual, unconcerned. He's much better behaved than usual though, which strikes Jaskier as being particularly odd.
He ignores it and pushes through, tearing an already ripped piece of Geralt's shirt to wipe away some of the blood. Geralt will be grouchy about it later, but if Jaskier replaces it, he can't be too angry. He does his best to clean Geralt's skin and he finds just the one injury - a hefty blow to the head. Not that it seems to be bothering Geralt any.
But when Jaskier cups his jaw, tipping his head to one side, Geralt hums. It catches him off guard and Jaskier jerks back to look at him.
"Your hands feel nice," Geralt breathes and leans into the touch. Okay. So maybe the head injury is more serious than it appears. The innkeeper's wife said a healer was coming, Jaskier will mention it to them when they arrive. Or maybe it's just the blood loss. Either way, the healer will be better prepared to deal with it than he is.
"What are you doing here?" Geralt asks.
"The innkeeper's wife came to collect me. Figured someone ought to come and collect you."
"No one else would even get near me."
"Yes, well, I'm not everyone else, am I?"
"Hmm. Guess not."
Jaskier comes around to look at him, straddling his thighs and Geralt leans forward, resting his head on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck.
"Yes yes," Jaskier hums, "I know you're tired, darling, but we have to get you up and back to town."
Geralt is reluctant, but he lets himself be hauled to his feet and doesn't even complain about Jaskier propping him up as they make their way back toward town. He's quiet, which is to be expected, but Jaskier is worried that he's keeping something from him, that he's worse off than he seems because Geralt seems quite happy to let himself be assisted - something he would regularly fight against.
As they make it back to the inn, Jaskier knows everyone is watching them and he scolds a couple of them for not offering to help when a man was injured. He takes Geralt up to their room and ducks out from under his arm, leaving him alone for a moment so he can get the fire lit and ready the bed for him. But before he can do either, he finds himself pressed up against the room door with Geralt's face mere inches from his own.
The dark veins and darker eyes are… sexier than they have any right to be and Jaskier swallows back a groan, pressing a gentle hand to Geralt's chest. The Witcher is still woozy and unsteady on his feet, but he resists being pressed back and Jaskier frowns at him.
"Mm, as much fun as this is, I doubt you'll think so highly of me in the morning, darling." Geralt smiles slyly and, for a split second, Jaskier worries that he's become Geralt's quarry, that the toxins running through Geralt's body are really as bad as he always claims they are and that he is, in fact, in real danger around him. But then Geralt leans in, bumping his nose against Jaskier's and any thoughts of fear dissipate immediately.
Instead, Jaskier ducks down and away, holding both arms out as Geralt follows him.
"Geralt," he asks, "what's gotten into you? Not that I mind, but-" he eyes him carefully and Geralt just grins at him again.
"Don't be coy with me, bard, this is what you brought me here for."
"Um. No? I brought you here to rest, to put you to bed not take you to bed, and find you something to eat. This is our room, Geralt, not my room. They only had one left and I didn't think you'd mind-"
"Our room?" Geralt interrupts and Jaskier nods. Worry creeps in and he looks closely at Geralt. His eyes are black still, though the veins are retreating and he seems brighter than usual, not so gloomy.
"Yes?"
"Why would we be sharing a room," Geralt huffs, "I've only just met you."
Jaskier gawks at him. It's not like Geralt to play games, that's Lambert's area of expertise - and this is stupid and obvious even for Lambert's tastes. But something is off about Geralt tonight. The worry turns to fear and Jaskier suddenly wonders if the man he's brought back is his Witcher at all.
He's never met a doppler, but he's heard Geralt tell stories about them. For the most part, they're harmless, but Jaskier suspects they can be paid or bribed like anyone else and the thought of a stranger here in the room with his things, with Geralt's things-
"I thought you wanted sex," maybe-Gealt says again, slightly confused but not at all dissuaded. Normally Jaskier would take it as a compliment that he was still so enthusiastic about fucking him, but this feels very, very wrong. And yet a part of him still considers it.
If it is a doppler, there's no harm really. He's consenting and Jaskier is more than happy to fuck a man with Geralt's face (he doesn't think too much about how that will affect him after it's fine). Right? But there's still a nagging feeling that this isn't a doppler. He'd know, he thinks, if he brought someone else home with him.
"Can you just-" he says, backing up toward the bed where his bag is sitting on the floor. Maybe-Geralt just watches him with confusion as he crouches down and pulls his dagger from his pack.
It's just a little thing, but it's pure silver, gifted to him by Geralt in case of emergency.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Jaskier says, holding it out, "I just need you to touch this."
Maybe-Geralt gives him a questioning look but reaches out and takes the dagger from him, turning it over in his hand. Nothing happens.
"Hmm," he says, "nice weight, well made. A little decorative maybe-"
"Doesn't hurt?" Jaskier asks and maybe-Geralt, who is seeming more and more like just Geralt laughs.
"Not unless you stab someone with it."
Jaskier valiantly ignores the little smirk and shuts his eyes.
"Okay," he says, "start at the beginning, what do you remember?"
"I… woke up in the forest and then you showed up," he smiles at him and Jaskier is already preparing a refusal.
"Listen, Geralt, I am your friend and you would probably even argue that-"
"How come? You're very handsome and you've been helpful and kind-"
"But it's not like that, Geralt. It never has been. I offered once and you were… less than impressed with me." Geralt says nothing and Jaskier takes the opportunity to reign the conversation in. "Can I clean you up now? Something is obviously wrong and we have to get you to a doctor."
"They said a healer was coming."
"I was thinking of someone a little more professional," Jaskier says and Geralt gives him a look. "We have a mutual friend who may be able to help. But for now, you've got me and I'd like to take a look at that wound."
Geralt relents and Jaskier finally succeeds in getting him sat on the bed without Geralt trying to come on to him again. He pulls Geralt's hair back and ties it out of his face, it'll need to be washed later, but he's not going to try and explain how it's fine for him to wash his hair but not fuck him right now.
The wound itself it's so bad, a bit swollen, a bit bruised, but the actual gash is small and very manageable. He cleans it first with water and then with vodka and applies a good amount of salve. He doesn't know which herbs Geralt combines for a poultice, so he bypasses that for the time being; when he gets him to Shani if the wound isn't healed on its own, she'll be able to tend to it.
He finds linen wrap at the bottom of his bag and presses it to Geralt's forehead, gently wrapping it around and tying it at his temple.
"Should be good for now. I'll go down and have supper brought up. Do you want a bath?"
"No. Thank you."
"Alright. Just… stay here, I'll be back."
As soon as the bedroom door is shut, Jaskier closes his eyes, but he waits until he reaches the main floor to lean against the wall and sigh. He has no idea what he's going to do. He never thought he'd be sad to see the day Geralt tried to get him into bed, but it feels so wrong. He'd rather spend the rest of his life failing to impress Geralt than spend another five minutes with him like this.
He takes his time ordering food, half-hoping that Geralt will be asleep by the time he gets back to the room, but their supper is ready quickly and Jaskier reluctantly takes it back up to their room, setting the tray on the table beside the bed.
Geralt at least spares him conversation while they eat and then Jaskier sets the dishes aside and strips out of his clothes for bed, already dreading having to share a bed. He keeps his shorts on and waits until Geralt is already in bed before climbing in after him.
The fire is burning low already, so he's not worried about it, but he blows out the candle beside the bed and pulls the blankets up over himself. He faces out into the room, preferring not to see Geralt right now. It feels weird to want to avoid him and it makes his chest ache because this is Geralt, but it's not. He just wants his Geralt back.
He shuts his eyes and tries to sleep but Geralt is cuddly like this, shifting closer and pressing up against him. He gets an arm around Jaskier's waist and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut. It's everything he thinks about during the long nights sleeping around a campfire, but he can't let himself give into it. But it feels good because it's Geralt's arm around him, Geralt's chest pressed to his back, Geralt's breath against his neck. He very nearly whines because it's so damn unfair.
But then Geralt's lips press against the back of his neck and a little gasp escapes his lips, unintentionally. He ignores it the first time, but then he does it again and when he shifts closer, Jaskier can feel the length of his cock pressing against his ass. And fuck, that's hard to turn down, but Jaskier wrenches himself out of Geralt's arms.
"I can't," he whispers, unconvincing even to himself.
"You want it, though," Geralt hums, "I can smell it on you."
"Maybe," Jaskier confesses, "but not like this. Not when you don't know who I am. Not when fucking any other person in this place would be the same for you. I can't, Geralt. Go to sleep."
Jaskier hates how disappointed Geralt sounds when he pulls away, but he doesn't try again and Jaskier almost finds himself wishing he would. He tugs the blanket a little tighter around himself and pulls his knees to his chest, trying to force back the fear that he might not get his Geralt back.
In the morning, Geralt wakes first and Jaskier is relieved to find himself alone in bed, although he worries about where Geralt has gotten to. But when he drags himself out of bed, he finds Geralt packed and ready to go with a hearty breakfast waiting for him.
"What's all this?" Jaskier asks, "trying to get away from me all of a sudden?" It comes out more bitter than he intends and he winces at the tone of his own voice.
"You were so sad, last night," Geralt says quietly. "I don't know how to fix this, how to remember you, but I thought you'd want to get started early. I had breakfast brought up." He offers a soft smile, gesturing to the food and Jaskier's heart flip-flops.
"Oh. Thank you."
"I've eaten. Take your time and we can leave when you're finished."
"Right."
Geralt just sits on the bed while Jaskier eats his breakfast and contemplates the fact that this is still his Geralt, as much as it doesn't seem like it. His own things are still ready to go and he has no idea who to go to to collect the reward for the drowners, but it couldn't have been much anyway, so he's not worried about it. Geralt won't be pleased about it when he remembers himself, but there's only so much Jaskier knows how to handle and he wants to get Geralt to Shani as quickly as possible.
They head out mid-morning, and Geralt insists on letting Jaskier ride, which is… nice, in a concerning way. Roach is equally confused and concerned, but Jaskier does his best to comfort her. Thankfully, they aren't far from Oxenfurt or Jaskier isn't sure how he would cope.
Geralt walks alongside him, happy enough apparently to let Jaskier ride. He hums as they travel, a low wonderful sound that had Jaskier's heart fluttering, but it tears him in two because the song is his which means Geralt does remember something, but he's also so sad to see him this calm and relaxed knowing his goal is to take that away from him.
For now, he won't say anything, will just let Geralt enjoy the journey. When and if they find a way to get his memory back, he'll explain everything and give Geralt the chance to decline if he wishes. The selfish part of him hopes he doesn't.
They carry on in much the same way, but even when Geralt talks, Jaskier struggles to find it in himself to be too enthusiastic about anything. He's already in a difficult spot and he just wants to get through this, whatever the outcome. But it's obvious Geralt notices and that he's trying to distract him from it.
Jaskier tries to cheer up a little, if only for him, but he finds it difficult because he knows Geralt can tell how he's really feeling. But Jaskier appreciates the effort, either way.
"Remind me where we're going?" Geralt asks and Jaskier realizes he hasn't told him, Geralt just trusted him not to be leading him towards certain death.
"To Oxenfurt," he says, trying to sound cheerful, "it's one of my favourite places on the continent. I have a friend who practices medicine, she should be able to help."
"You don't have to pretend for me. I know you're sad, I know you miss him. Me. I wish I could give you your friend back."
Jaskier's heart clenches and he takes a steadying breath. "I'm fine," he says, "and I can't miss him, he's you and you're right here." He feels odd, like he's talking to a child, but Geralt just smiles at him, softly but like he doesn't believe him. Jaskier wouldn't either, he's never been good at lying to Geralt.
There's a heavy silence that falls after that and for some time they continue forward unspeaking. Jaskier twitches to feel the silence, to sing or talk to something just to keep from thinking that Geralt is upset with him. Then, abruptly, Geralt speaks.
"What kind of man am I?" Jaskier doesn't even have to think to answer that.
"You're kind," he says, "more than anyone gives you credit for. You always try to take the less violent route, even though your job is to kill monsters. You're generous and loving and you care so deeply for your friends and family."
He pauses for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. Because he's not included in that group. He knows Geralt must care for him, but not in the way he loves Eskel or Lambert, or even in the way his friendship with Shani or Zoltan comes so easily to him. Next to him, Geralt is silent for a moment and then.
"Jaskier are you-" Jaskier shuts his eyes, dreading whatever is coming next. "Do you love me?"
"Of course I do," he says, forcing cheeriness into his voice, "You're my best friend."
"But it's more than that, isn't it?"
"Geralt-"
"I know I don't really know you, but I… think I love you, too."
"Geralt, don't say that," Jaskier shuts his eyes tightly, "you can't know that."
"I feel it."
Jaskier wants to scream. It's so unfair to hear those words from Geralt's mouth and know they’re not true. He pushes Roach a little quicker forward, but Geralt stops him.
Roach comes to a full stop and Jaskier grows frowns at Geralt as he comes to stand next to him. Geralt raised a hand up, cupping his jaw and guiding him downward.
"I feel like you won't hear it from me again, so I love you." He's soft, almost breathless, and when he stretches up to kiss him, Jaskier doesn't stop him.
It's just soft, no urgency, no want for something more than just a kiss and Jaskier can't help but lean into it just a little. Because those are Geralt's hands on him, Geralt's mouth against his own, soft and slow.
But Geralt moans softly against him and Jaskier remembers himself with a start. He pulls back from the Witcher, almost unseating himself, but Geralt steadies him.
"I'm sorry," he breathes, "I can't, it's not fair-"
"To me?" Geralt asks and there's sadness behind the humour in his voice.
"Yes."
After that, they spend the rest of the day in silence and Jaskier feels bad for Geralt - he can't imagine losing his memory and not knowing who he is - but he can't stand the fruitless hope. Because Geralt doesn't love him, he's made it known that they're not friends and how could Jaskier hope for more when he can't even attain friendship?
Then again, the man walking next to him now still is Geralt. He doesn't feel like Geralt and he doesn't act like Geralt, but he is. Jaskier isn't sure how people usually react when they lose their memories, so he doesn't have a basis to judge by, but it is still Geralt.
When they stop for the night, Geralt sleeps close enough to keep him warm but doesn't cuddle up like he did the night before and Jaskier hates himself for it. Maybe Geralt has a chance here at a new life, one where he can be happy and not weighed down by the memory of his childhood. And if he does, if he wants it, who is Jaskier to deny him that?
He's not sure he could be a part of it, though. Even thinking about him now, wishing Geralt would come a little closer, curl an arm around his middle, he feels like he's betraying his friend, betraying the old Geralt as the case may be.
Either way, he'll get Geralt to Oxenfurt so they can speak to Shani and see if there's anything that can be done. If there's not, he doesn't have to worry about making the decision to leave or stay, but if there is- If there is a chance Geralt can regain his memories, Jaskier has to let him make that choice alone and then make his own depending on what Geralt wants.
They reach Oxenfurt a few days later after what feels like a month-long journey and Jaskier is just glad to be somewhere warm where he can have his own room and not have to worry about wanting to be close. He leads them immediately to the inn and rents two separate rooms. It's fairly costly and he's reminded of the reason they needed to take the last contract, but he could be in Oxenfurt for a while depending on how this goes and he'll be able to pick up work easily enough.
Jaskier heads up to his room and makes sure Geralt gets settled, then he heads down and orders food and a bath up to Geralt's room before heading out to find Shani.
The first place he looks is the hospital, but the nurse working informs him that Shani has her own clinic now and she's located near the centre of town. Jaskier thanks her and doubles back, following the directions she'd given. Shani's clinic is tucked between two other buildings and Jaskier knocks before entering. There's no one inside but it's only a moment before Shani emerges from a back room, the neutral look on her face quickly growing into a smile. When Jaskier doesn't return the gesture she frowns.
"I take it this isn't a personal visit," she says and Jaskier can feel something inside him slip. He shakes his head.
"No, I'm sorry. I- we need your help."
"Geralt?" she asks and the last bit of his self-control gives way and he chokes on a sob. "Hey," she says, "come sit down."
Shani guides him to a back room and sits him down on a plush soft, surprisingly nice for a medical clinic. She shuts and locks the door behind them and sits next to him.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Geralt," he chokes, "hes'-" he takes a deep breath, swallowing back another sob. "Shani, he doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know who I am."
"Oh. What happened?"
"I wasn't there. I just- they came to get me because no one else would get near him. It was just supposed to be a drowner contract but he got hit in the head or something. I don't know what to do."
"Where is he now?"
"Back at the inn."
"Here?" she asks. Jaskier nods. "Why don't you take me to him, I'll take a look."
"I- I don't know if he'll want to be fixed? He came with me but Shani, he seems happy."
"Why don't we go and see him first. We'll figure out what's wrong before worrying too much, hm?" Jaskier agrees and Shani packs a bag and they head for the inn.
They find Geralt in his room, having eaten and bathed and he looks good. He's got his hair down around his shoulders and he's shirtless and Jaskier has to avert his eyes. He takes a seat in the corner and lets Shani introduce herself and asks to look him over. Jaskier stays quiet and watches cautiously as Geralt easily lets Shani look him over. Once she's finished with his body, she examines his head.
"Well," she says at last, "you obviously took a pretty hefty blow to your head, but the good news is it should be simple to reverse the memory loss."
"Good," Geralt says quickly. He spares a glance for Jaskier before turning back to Shani. "What do we have to do?"
"It's simple really, just a shock to your system should do it. I have a friend who can help."
As Shani goes into the details, Jaskier tunes out. He hears something about neurons, but he's more concerned about getting Geralt alone for a couple of minutes before he makes a decision. He loves Geralt, wants nothing more than for him to be happy, so he wants him to go into this knowing everything Jaskier can tell him.
"Can we have a moment Shani?" he asks and Geralt looks at him as Shani nods and ducks out of the room.
"You want to do it?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You're happier like this," Jaskier whispers, "Geralt, I've never seen you this relaxed. In twenty years, you've always been miserable. I just- I want you to make an informed decision."
"You say you want me to be happy," Geralt says, "but since I told you I didn't know who you were you've been so sad. How is it fair for me to be happy like you say when you're still suffering." He tips Jaskier's chin up with two fingers and looks into his eyes. "What I said before, I wasn't lying. I don't know where all these feelings are coming from but I know you are so important to me."
He pulls up a smile and Jaskier knows how this is going to end. And he'll be happy to have his Geralt back, but know him like this? To know this Geralt wants him, even in some weird, imaginary way? He doesn't know how he'll be able to continue.
"Okay," Jaskier relents. "I just… wanted you to know what you were getting into."
"I'm sure it can't be all bad. I have you."
Jaskier's heart clenches, but he doesn't get another chance to speak because Shani enters the room. Thankfully, Geralt has stopped touching him, but he's still close and she gives Jaskier a look.
"I put out a call to my friend," she says, holding up a box that looks vaguely familiar. "Xenovox," she explains, "Marilla is a mage. She should be here in the morning."
It's late afternoon now, so that means spending another night at the inn and Jaskier is torn. On the one hand, he wants Geralt to be back to normal, but on the other- he's selfish and he wants Geralt like this. He wants so badly to have anything and- no. No, he can't.
Shani leaves them shortly after assuring Jaskier that it will be alright, that Geralt will be fine. He wishes these were better circumstances, that they had come to visit Shani instead of asking for her help, but she waves him off with a smile.
"Come and visit when things are back to normal," she says, "I'll see you in the morning."
Jaskier sees her off and then returns to the room to find Geralt sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating. He's still shirtless and Jaskier finds it hard to look at him directly. He sits in the bed next to him, hands folded in his lap.
"Well," Geralt says, "we have the night. Things will be different after I get my memory back, right?" He turns, reaching out to cup Jaskier's cheek. "Be with me tonight," he breathes, "just for tonight, let me take care of you while I have the chance."
Jaskier huffs a humourless laugh. "That's the problem, you always have the chance, but you never want to take it."
"Then let me now," he hums and his hand falls to Jaskier's thigh.
And it's so tempting. Because Geralt is right here offering everything he's ever wanted, if only for a night. But this is not the Geralt he fell in love with. This is not truly his Geralt's consent. When Jaskier looks up, it's obvious that Geralt knows his answer before he even speaks.
"I'm an idiot," he says softly, "to not jump at the chance to be with you. If I don't remember tomorrow, I want you to know you're important to me." Jaskier nods weakly, but he can't find the words. "Maybe we should turn in early? We have a long day tomorrow, I think."
Jaskier nods and he lets Geralt pull him down to the bed and tonight, he lets himself be held, curls into Geralt's hold and presses his nose into his neck. He doesn't let himself think, just buries himself in Geralt's scent, so warm and familiar and shuts off his mind.
Jaskier awakes to a knock on the door and realizes he's still in his clothes from yesterday. Geralt answers the door to Shani and Marilla, and Jaskier is only just climbing out of bed when they come into the room. He gets a look from Shani, but if she's feeling any particular kind of way about finding him in Geralt's bed, she doesn't say anything.
The actual process doesn't take any time at all. Marilla comes in and does something to Geralt, what she does is unclear but he falls unconscious and Jaskier panics at first, but Shani holds him back.
"Sorry," she says, "I should have warned you."
Jaskier does his best to make Geralt comfortable in the bed and he leaves with the two women to let him sleep. He thanks Marilla desperately and asks her to stay until he wakes, but she tells him she has other business to attend to and after dipping down to kiss Shani briefly, she disappears down the stairs.
"Friend, huh?" Jaskier asks and Shani smiles at him.
"Don't try to change the subject."
"Actually, can I ask you about something?"
"Of course. Why don't we get a drink, he could be out for a couple of hours."
They head down to the common area and Shani orders them a pair of drinks while Jaskier finds a table out of the way. He's never understood why Geralt likes corner tables, but right now he gets it. He doesn't want anyone to talk to him and he just wants to be able to sit and drink with Shani.
When she returns, she slides his drink across to him and slips into her seat.
"What did you want to ask about?"
"Uh," Jaskier starts, turning his mug in his hands, "when I first took Geralt back to our room, just after he was hurt. He tried to kiss me. He… thought I was bringing him back there to fuck him."
"Oh."
"You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not, really. I'm surprised he acted on it, but-"
"What does that mean?"
"Geralt doesn't have any brain damage," Shani explains, "something just… got knocked loose, so to speak. He was still him, Jaskier. His thoughts, his feelings? That was all him, Jask."
"You're telling me-" abruptly, the memory of Geralt telling him he loved him comes back to him and his mouth goes dry. "You're telling me that was just him?"
"Mmhm. Without all the baggage and self-loathing."
"I don't- he can't- if he wanted me that way, I would know."
"Would you?" Shani asks, "because I think you would be the last person to know. Wait till he wakes up, talk to him."
"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Shani, for this and for everything."
"Happy to help."
They finish their drinks and Shani heads home. Jaskier thanks her again and promises to visit when things are better and waits until she's gone before heading back up to Geralt's room.
The first thing Geralt knows when he wakes up, is a pain in his head. He blinks awake to find himself in a bed in a nondescript inn. A better look around finds Jaskier asleep in a chair next to him, but he stirs as Geralt sits up and then he's scrambling to pass Geralt a mug of water.
He feels woozy, but Jaskier's presence soothes him; he knows from experience that Jaskier would never let anything happen to him and is willing to risk his own health and safety to assure it. There's no one else he'd rather see upon waking. But he doesn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembers is taking a hit and stumbling away from the scene.
"Geralt?" Jaskier asks gently. He looks up and the first thing he notices when he looks at Jaskier is how sad he is. The emotion wafts off of him, but Geralt doesn't need his heightened sense of smell to be able to tell.
"What's wrong?" he mumbles, his voice thick.
"Tell me what you remember. From the start."
Geralt thinks back, going through the events of the hunt, none of which are very interesting until he was thrown into a tree. Water hag, he remembers, chucked mud and blinded him. Then he's stumbling away, all three monsters dead and then- fuck.
His gaze snaps up to Jaskier's face, looking for any sign of recognition, but he remains eerily calm, even as Geralt recollects kissing him, pressing him up against a wall and- fuck, what was he thinking? The more he thinks about it, the more comes back to him, but in bits and pieces.
Kissing him, touching him, pressing up against him in bed. The memories are all foggy, scattered, but they feel too real to have been a dream. But Jaskier shows no signs of being assaulted by him.
"I'm-" he starts, but sorry doesn't feel like it's enough. Jaskier is open with his affections, but he wouldn't be okay with that.
Geralt tries to push himself up, to get out of bed and away from Jaskier because he can't stand the thought of doing something like that. He can't remember why he did, but the more he thinks about it, the more real it feels.
"Geralt," Jaskier says firmly, "I'm not mad. But I think we need to talk if you're up for it."
He doesn't want to talk to Jaskier. He would rather find out from someone else, he can't bear to hear the words from Jaskier. And he knows Shani was there. Shani and another woman who he didn't recognize.
"Where's Shani?" he asks.
"She's gone home, darling. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"
Geralt looks up at him and he feels hopeless. Jaskier is exhausted, he can see the bags under his eyes, the dark circles. And he doesn't seem any less sad than he did initially. It doesn't take much to realize what happened.
"I'm sorry," Geralt mumbles, "about what I did- when I kissed you, I-"
Jaskier stops, already halfway toward the door and sighs deeply, stopping in his tracks before turning around.
"Okay," he says, "we're talking about this now, then." He comes back and seats himself on the end of the bed, facing him. "Tell me exactly what you remember, Geralt."
"I remember taking the contract, fighting off the drowners - and a water hag - got mud in my eyes, stumbled and something hit me, threw me into a tree. Probably one of the drowners pushed me. I took them out, started back toward town but I must have passed out, the next thing I remember is-"
"Me."
"Yeah. You took me back to our room, I thought you were- I thought you wanted sex."
"I know, you were fairly adamant about that."
"Fuck. Jaskier I'm sorry-"
"You didn't know who I was. If a handsome stranger took me back to his room, I'd think the same. When you didn't know who I was I was… terrified. I didn't know if I'd get you back." They're both silent for a moment and then Jaskier prompts him to continue.
"I remember that. I remember talking to you," he lowers his eyes, "I told you I loved you, I don't know why." Immediately Jaskier's sadness intensifies and he catches it in the twitch of his lip, the way he glances away.
"You asked if I was in love with you," Jaskier explains, "and told me you loved me. What else do you remember?"
"I remember asking you to- suggesting we- I propositioned you. And I remember being in bed- Jaskier, did we-?" He can't imagine anything worse than sleeping with Jaskier while he's not himself, than having the chance to be with him and not truly being present in the moment.
Because he certainly won't have another chance, especially not now that he's gone and muddled things up.
"No," Jaskier confirms and for the first time a small smile tugs at his lips, "not that you didn't try. But It didn't feel right. I knew when you had your memories back, you'd hate me for it and I couldn't-"
"I could never hate you," Geralt interrupts, "if anything I'd hate myself for pushing you into it."
"No," Jaskier says, shaking his head, "Geralt you don't understand. I wanted to. I wanted so badly to just say yes last night when you asked me. I tried to work it around in some way that you wouldn't hate me for taking advantage, but every time I just feel terrible to even think about it. The reason I didn't sleep with you is because I couldn't bear the thought of fucking you when it wasn't really you. Because I didn't want him, even if he was you. I wanted- I want this you."
"You do," Geralt snorts, "someone who throws himself at his friend because he doesn't remember, someone who tells him he loves him unprompted-"
"Do you think," Jaskier suggests, and it's clear by the look on his face that he's considering his words very carefully. "That maybe what you said to me and what you did- what you offered," he corrects quickly, "was because you do have feelings for me?" His voice shakes just faintly and Geralt can smell the anxiousness coming off of him.
It's cloying, overwhelming and it mingles with the scent of sadness and fear and just the faintest hint of something hopeful.
"It's just that Shani said there was nothing wrong with your mind, it was still you in there when you asked, when you said that." Jaskier looks up at him and Geralt feels years of emotion welling up inside him and he doesn't know how to hold it back any longer, not what Jaskier is asking him outright.
"Jaskier, I-" he takes a deep breath, focuses on a mark on the blanket between them. "I don't remember everything. But I did mean what I said. I do… I love you," he whispers, "I didn't want you to think less of me or," he glances up and Jaskier's eyes are shiny like he's trying not to cry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out like this."
"I'm not sad," Jaskier says, "Geralt, I have been following you around for half my life, caring for you, singing about you and you didn't think for maybe a moment that I could love you back?"
"You-" Geralt stumbles over his words as Jaskier's confession sinks in. "You sleep with everyone. Everyone but-"
"You don't even call me friend, Geralt. Why would I try and take you to bed with me thinking you don't care enough to call me your friend?"
"Oh."
"Oh? You didn't consider that?"
"You're not my friend," Geralt says, by way of explanation, "but you're not a lover, either. You're not a brother. Not a comrade. I don't know what you are."
"Oh."
"But you could be… a lover?" the word feels strangely heavy in his mouth and he nearly regrets saying it at all until he sees the way Jaskier's eyes light up. A smile tugs at Geralt's lips and he leans forward, reaching out to take Jaskier's hand, tentatively turning it over.
"Jaskier," he whispers, "can I kiss you?" A wide grin spreads across his face and Jaskier tips forward toward him.
"Darling, I thought you'd never ask."
478 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Love Interests in the Works of Jane Austen: An Assessment
This is an "extremely scientific" and "thoroughly researched" ranking based on personality, money, family and connections, and is a bit of a blend between the book characterizations and the film characterizations (and is in no way only based on my own opinions). Here we go, grouped by book but not much else.
Edmund Bertram: absolute trash. His family has treated you unbelievably shitty since day one and not only has he BARELY noticed, he ALSO has treated you shitty. Will fall in love with someone beautiful and fun and when she dumps him will come crawling to you for a rebound. His passion for you is so lackluster that even the esteemed author who wrote about it barely spared a paragraph on your relationship. Has a job but only because his dad owns the land the church is built on. You’ll gain no connections or family by marrying him, since he’s literally your cousin. 0/10
Henry Crawford: There IS such thing as too much fun, and that is never clearer than in this man, who will try to seduce you as a game, freak out when his middling overtures don’t work and then try and seduce you “for really real” this time. You will definitely move up in the world if you marry him, and if you play your cards right it seems like his sister is also just REALLY into you, so see how that goes. Life will be pretty okay until you find him in bed with one (or more, who knows) of your relations. 3/10, 8/10 if you’re into that
John Willoughby: Will be like something out of a romance novel, you’re thinking he’s going to propose and then he just fucking ghosts you and embarrasses the fuck out of you at a party by acting like he doesn’t know you. Somehow marry him (congrats on the inheritance you must have, btw) and get ready to take a backseat to the whims of his aunt for as long as she lives. 1/10, at least you get to live in a nice house.
Edward Ferrars: Oh Edward. He’s a bit of a mess, isn’t he? Super kind, your family loves him, he made a bunch of stupid decisions in his youth that are coming back to bite him in the ass. He is loyal to an absolute fault, but you luck out when his fiance turns out to be a bit of a gold digger and dumps him when his mom disowns him. He doesn’t have a job and neither do you, but his family doesn’t wanna speak to him (lucky you!) and you’ll be happy and poor together if you two can work on your communication skills. 7/10.
Colonel Brandon: He’s got a nice house, the respect of his friends and the community, and he has a LOT of passion. He’ll give your sister’s penniless husband a job, dramatically rescue you from a rainstorm, make sure his dead girlfriend’s daughter is happy and taken care of even after your ex fucks HER over too, and is all around a pretty decent guy. Just. Uh. Maybe, kinda, sorta, needs to go after women his own age and is probably with you because you remind him of his dead girlfriend. 5/10 with the wildly inappropriate age gap, 9/10 without it.
Mr. Wickham: Please don’t. He’s a thirsty bitch who lives for drama and you think he’s fun until you find out he tried to sleep with one teenage girl and is making eyes at your fifteen year old sister behind your back. Marry him (through the grace of mysterious benefactors, cause he ain’t marrying anyone unless he’s paid the right price) and get ready for a life of being surrounded by military men in the north of England while your husband tries to fuck everything that moves. Work that out somehow with him and you might actually be happy. 0/10.
Mr. Bingley: He is a softboi who will do literally anything his friends tell him to do. He is SUPER rich, and marrying him will throw your sister’s into the path of other rich men and he is REALLY into you, but get ready to be sucking up to his sisters for literally the rest of your life. Unless he can ship Miss Bingley off to live with Mrs. Hurst, have fun trying to wage a war of barely concealed insults over the breakfast table every morning, and if you’re marrying Bingley I’m sorry but that is a war you just cannot win. He doesn’t have a job but he does have five thousand a year, and neither of you can manage money. You’ll love simply and deeply and be happy as any two can be. 8/10.
Mr. Collins: Last resort to rescue yourself from a life of being a burden to your parents until they die and then having to become a governess or something. Has a job but never shuts up about his boss. You will have to rearrange everything in your house according to his boss’ will. 2/10
Mr. Darcy: Is a anxious disaster who doesn’t know how to talk to girls at parties and needs to learn how say no to going out when he’s just not feeling it. He doesn’t have a job because he’s a landlord; he owns half of Derbyshire and has ten thousand a year, but turns out that all of that money and land can’t buy tact or charisma. Doesn’t know how to flirt and thinks he’s doing a great job (he’s not). He’ll propose to you out of the fucking blue one day by insulting literally everything about you, but don’t worry! Reading his letter unlocks Darcy 2.0. This patched version gives him humility, a personality, and he WILL gain the ability to rescue your family from utter ruin. Marry him and enjoy a life of luxury and witty ripostes, but beware! You ARE going to have to deal with Lady Catherine until the day she dies, not to mention Caroline Bingley’s barely concealed contempt every time you meet in polite company. Darcy 1.0 3/10, Darcy 2.0 8/10.
Captain Wentworth: Absolutely top tier. Has a job, has earned everything he has, including a fortune and the respect of his peers, superiors, and subordinates. His sister and her husband are practically the only happily older married couple you know, his friends are super fun and nice (even the dour one with all the poetry knows how to have a polite conversation). If you dumped him ten years ago on the advice of your almost comically shitty family yeah, he’s going to hold a grudge, but he WILL NEVER STOP LOVING YOU and the MOMENT he gets over his pride will do everything and anything in his power (including leaping the bounds of propriety!) to win you back. Based on his love, money, and connections you should RUN, not walk, into his arms TODAY and allow him to rescue you from your family and whisk you off to see the world on his ship, at least until Napoleon busts out of Elba. 12/10
Mr. Eliot: Will lose all your old schoolfriend’s husband’s money in a bad deal, has debts out the ass, might be trying to get with either you or the woman your dad has been flirting with for the last few years, you’re not sure. Is totally ruining the rekindling relationship you’re trying to get going with your far superior ex. He wants the land and title your dad has and will stop at nothing to get it. Marry him and you can move back into your old house (maybe? it’s a little unclear what with all the debts) but have every single cent your mother left you immediately put into some dumbass scheme. 1/10
Henry Tilney: another softboi who just wants to act in the school play while his dad and brother plan to ship him off to military school and berate him for not joining the football team. Bring him shopping with you to pick out dresses, spend long nights over tea chatting about books. Has a job, but again, only because his dad owns the land the church is on. Loves you even though you have some very strange ideas about his house, and will forgive you when he realizes you thought his dad either murdered or imprisoned his mom. If he can find the courage to tell his dad to fuck off and let him live his own life, expect a long, happy marriage of snuggling together in a window seat somewhere, sipping tea and reading. 9/10
John Thorpe: Trash bastard man. Peaked in whatever equivalent of high school he had. Shitty and rude to everyone, would post racist memes on facebook and start fights if he could, all while being shitty and manipulative and CREEPILY possessive of you. -2/10
Robert Martin: A sweet himbo farmer who just wants to love and worship you. He has a job, is pretty rich, and while his connections may not be above his class, he’s an earnest boy who wants to take care of you and be taken care of in turn. Marry him the first time, absolutely do NOT let your friend influence you against him, because who KNOWS if you will get a second proposal! (You will, he likes you THAT much.) Marry him and enjoy a sweet, simple life of exactly zero drama (unless your friend is around). 7/10
Mr. Elton: Trifling gold digging trash who doesn’t know what the word no means. Do not marry, unless you want to be censured by decent, hardworking people -1/10
Frank Churchill: Knows how to have fun, but you know there’s something more going on. He won’t let you see his letters, he sends out secret notes, then he smiles and tells you that everything is totally a okay. Another boy with ANOTHER overbearing aunt, only this one doesn’t know how to say no. Marry him if you’ve got the money, but he will always be longing after the poor girl next door that auntie wouldn’t let him married, and would have cheated on you already if she was into it. 3/10
Mr. Knightly: He’s your brother in law and you’ve known him almost your whole life, so that’s a little sus, but he is also the ONLY person in your entire life who knows how to tell you no (and you really, REALLY need to be told no sometimes.) He is extremely wealthy, but more importantly he’s kind and caring about people who are considered “beneath” him. He will break his weird no dancing rule to dance with your shy friend, he will ream you out for being shitty to unwed spinsters who value your opinion, and somehow has the correct read on everyone all the time. You will gain no connections by marrying him, since the two of you already have the exact same connections anyway, but the two of you should be content in a test of wills that will last a lifetime. You’ll be very happy as long as he doesn’t get super pedantic and start correcting you about everything. 7/10
#jane austen#pride and prejudice#persuasion#sense and sensibility#emma#mansfield park#northanger abbey#mr darcy#captain wentworth
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Partner
Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) x Reader (Gender Neutral)
Warnings: Spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing, Mentions of injury
Genre: Angsty Fluff, Comfort
Summary: Following the final battle in the Dimitrescu Castle, Ethan is surprised to stumble upon a person who witnessed the whole debacle, offering him a safe place to patch up his wounds and rest for a little while.
Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤
“That was...something else.“ Ethan Winters mutters to himself as he limps his way out of the Dimitrescu Castle which is now vacant in terms of residence - his doing. He killed Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, all arguably in self defense and with little guilt to follow. However, plenty of trauma’s definitely attached to him following the horrific events he had to go through and the things he had to see between the walls of those luxurious rooms hiding dark secrets of the vampires who took pleasure in torturing people, and wreaking havoc over the villagers who feared them.
“At least they won’t hurt anyone any longer.“ He tells himself, giving the monster of a structure one final look before he continues back towards the center of the village where he’s gonna rethink what he’s got to do next, gather his bearings, take a breath and keep going. He has no other option but to keep going, he won’t allow himself to quit no matter what danger he faces. In his mind, he’s convinced himself that he’s already seen the worst, it’s easier on him that way, it suppresses the fear he’d feel otherwise. The last thing he wants is to think what’s in store for him ahead, he’d rather focus on what’s up to him to do next.
“And we can’t thank you enough.“
The sudden presence of an unfamiliar voice startles him, causing him to whip out his gun and point it in the direction it came from. However, he quickly finds his deadly tight grip loosening ever so slightly because he realizes he’s pointing the barrel at a very human-looking and seemingly harmless person.
“Who are you? Who’s ‘we’?“ Ethan still refuses to let his guard down though, just cause it may not be a life or death situation, doesn’t mean this person won’t bring him trouble and Lord knows that’s the last thing he needs right now.
On instinct, the person takes a step back, “I speak on the behalf of all the remaining villagers. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we too became victims in the Dimitrescu Castle basement. I was next, actually, but the commotion you created allowed for me to escape. I owe you my life, foreigner.“ The speak hurriedly and in a hushed tone, as if the fear of their torturers overhearing them still lives within them despite the monsters being deceased.
“Glad I could help you.“ He nods curtly, remaining at the distance of seven feet between them, “My name’s Ethan Winters by the way.“
They give him the tiniest of smiles, “Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you.” Their gaze gives him a quick onceover, assessing the damage the horrors of the castle have inflicted on him. Their eyes widen in shock at the many bleeding wounds all over his body but what appears to rattle them most is the severe injury that’s causing his limp as well as the missing finger - a poorly wrapped would that has surprisingly not started getting infected yet. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t trust you to take care of yourself either. I live in that windmill over there in the outskirts, come with me, I’ll help you with...well, with all that. You seem rather hopeless at medical care.”
While he could refuse their offer, he wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that they’re right - he knows the basics of first aid, but his injuries are far too gone for simple first aid, especially when taken into account that he doesn’t even have any supplies. How he’s not died from blood loss is a surprise to him as much as it is to them.
“What’s my guarantee you won’t turn on me?“ He finally asks after a decent amount of time contemplating it.
They shrug, “You have none. But, you have the guarantee that if I turn on you, you’ll be the one coming out of that altercation alive.” Their gaze sizes up the guns he’s got on him, emphasizing their point.
Suddenly, Ethan feels sorta ridiculous - after all, guns or no guns, he could probably take on them easily with just his knife. Regardless, no one can blame him for being cautious.
“Fine.“ He mutters, “But please don’t turn on me, I’ve already had one hell of a day.“
Y/N nods, motioning for him to follow them, “I promise I won’t.”
* * *
“Wow, what a back-stabber! Some friends you have, Winters.“ Y/N comments as they set down a cup of tea on the small wooden table in front of the freshly patched up Ethan.
Turns out, he made the right move by trusting them - they used to be the village’s main nurse until it all went to hell and they went to hide in the shadows of their windmill where they, as evidenced, still are today. That being said, not only did they have all the necessary equipment to fix him up, but they also had the skills and knowledge needed to use that equipment.
“There are those friends who borrow money from you and never pay you back and there are those who shoot your wife randomly while you two are trying to have dinner. Two types of friends out there really.“ He sighs, his tired, a thousand yard stare following the path of the steam levitating from the cup that’s been placed in front of him. “I have no time to dwell on that right now though. My daughter is in grave danger and I have no idea where I should even start looking for her.“
Y/N sits down on a chair opposite his, “Well, you’ve already defeated one of the village Lords looking for Rose, process of elimination should reveal where she is - wherever she is, it has to be one of the Lords’ residence. Mother Miranda trusted Lady Dimitrescu most so it’s a wonder why she wasn’t there, but then again, Heisenberg’s factory is damn near impenetrable, one cannot enter unless he wants them to so she could have entrusted her precious cargo to him.”
“How do I get to that fucker?“ Ethan tightens his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn white. There’s so much within him, so much that’s happened to him, so much in such a short amount of time and he’s had no time to deal with any of it. He’s a volcano waiting to erupt, but he has to do so at the right time - in front of the right danger to show he’s not hopeless or weak as his opponent may think. “Where do I find him?“
“He’s in the outskirts too just on the other side of the village.“ They sigh, regretting every word they are saying since they know they are just feeding him information on how to get himself in the worst kind of danger he’s probably ever been in. “That key you have, it’s not complete to access his quarters yet. By the looks of it...“ they observe the key Ethan has placed on the table, “You can only get to Lord Donna Beneviento’s estate, and I wouldn’t suggest heading there before you heal at least a bit more. Her and her dolls are a real nightmare. Of course, I haven’t experienced it for myself, but the stories are enough to get an idea.“
“So you’re telling me I have to waste my time with the little fish before I can finally get to Rose? You know how long that’ll take? You know how long she’ll have to be at the mercy of a fucking lunatic until I can finally save her?!“ Ethan snaps, banging his fist against the table, bad idea considering his hand’s been just patched up. The impact sends a jolt of pain up his arm that makes him hiss.
“I get it, I understand, Ethan. But you are a lot less likely to get to your daughter if you’re dead, you know.“ Y/N cautiously explains, their eyes narrowing a bit as they wait for the pearl white bandages to soak crimson, sighing in relief when they don’t. “Speaking of how likely you may or may not be to get to her on time, I’d also have to mention your odds would be significantly higher if you were to receive help from someone else. You’d need someone to have your back throughout all the shit you’re about to go through, especially Heisenberg’s factory where two eyes are not enough to track each and every threat that might pounce at you.“
Calmer now, Ethan gives them a puzzled look, “What are you suggesting?“
“I’m suggesting - well, I’m offering you my partnership.“ They explain, watching his expression change to one of knowing and understanding. “Of course, you’d have to give up one of those guns and hand it down to me, but I think that’s a small price to pay in exchange for an extra pair of eyes and limbs to guard and help you.“
Ethan’s first instinct is to decline. He can’t afford to see another person dying around him or because of him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. But then again, just like he had no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him, he has none that they’ll die. Of course, he’ll do everything in his power to keep them and himself alive and they don’t seem like they are in it to half-ass it either. Quite the contrary, they seem perfectly determined and ready to face the same shit he’s about to.
“What do you get in return?“ He asks, his gaze suspiciously measuring each line on their face to gauge their true intentions. He’s a complete stranger to them, they’d have no reason to be this selfless for him, it’s obvious they are aiming at something bigger.
Y/N scoffs, leaning back in their chair with a small bitter smile on their face, their gaze resting on the tabletop and avoiding his, “You really wanna know? I want my revenge - revenge for what they did to this village, to me, to so many people I cared about and to those I didn’t even know. But...” they trail off, pausing to sigh out a heavy sigh before continuing, “But I also wanna redeem myself. I knew I should’ve done all in my power to stop them when their havoc was still on the rise, I knew I should’ve done more, but I didn’t. And now I’ll die trying.”
“You won’t die.“ He says sharply, barely a second after the last word left their lips, “I won’t allow it.“ He adds, taking a bit of the edge off his voice.
Their eyes come up to meet his, searching for what he means, “Does that mean...“
“It sure does, partner.“ Within the blink of an eye, his pistol is on the table, fully loaded and free for their taking, “You just give a green light and we’re off.“
Y/N lets out a sound between a laugh and a gasp as their hands quickly wrap around the gun, looking at it in disbelief before whispering a quick ‘thank you’. Ethan allows them to marvel at it for a bit longer but they don’t wait another second. “Get your ass up, Winters. We have monsters to kill.”
He needn’t be told twice
#resident evil 8#resident evil#resident evil heisenberg#resident evil village#resident evil 7#re#re 8#re village#karl#heisenberg#resident evil karl heisenberg#karl heisenberg#resident evil lady dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#ethan winters#ethan winters x reader#ethan winters imagine#rose winters#rosemary winters#mia winters#resident evil chris redfield#chris redfield#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#fandom#video game#video game fanfic#x reader#reader insert
227 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bilexualclarke
Bilexualclarke
yanderepuppi
Sem título
the-slaylus-parable
Slaylus
memoirs-of-a-petty-bitch
Cicely Aurelia
sushibath0
The Journey of Mahler 833