#【✧tried and executed】: replied
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sunfyredarchive · 5 months ago
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five senses | accepting
【 @andfyre sent a raven】: [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair ( from alicent )
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a soft thudding. steady. with purpose. distant at first— but kept approaching. getting louder. drowning out the sound of quaking inhale && exhales— erratic. unsure. almost ASHAMED of the very act. undeserving of the air filling his lungs. undeserving of the comfort he didn't dare seek. undeserving of the—
the thudding came to a halt, and so did the quickened breathing.
the source of the ominous sound standing before the heap of dark robes && darker thoughts, tainting the stone floor with its offending presence. unmoving. unbreathing. curled in on itself. waiting for something— anything to happen. appearing almost as small as it felt. almost.
do it.
whatever it was that had come to greet him at such ungodly hour, it couldn't be good. for goodness seldom greeted him, and it never stayed for long. his chest clenched with renewed agony at the thought.
do it.
rustle of fabric. shadow of an arm reaching out from behind, slow && quiet. the heap began to tremble visibly. its eyes closing tight.
DO IT !
—but the fatal blow never did come. yet still the contact made him flinch violently, causing the hand in his damp hair to falter. frozen like the words in his throat. choking. at last aegon turned around to face the phantom, and found that it wore his face. his lips moved, supposedly uttering a single word but no sound reached his ears or the phantom's.
they stared at each other in thundering silence, choking together.
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lord-squiggletits · 10 months ago
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One of my favorite parts of phase 2 (and indeed one of the few moments I resonated with IDW Prowl) was when the neutrals were coming back to Cybertron and Prowl said that he refused to let Autobots be pushed aside and overruled after they were the ones who fought for freedom for 4 million years (the exact wording escapes me atm).
And I mean, that resentment still holds true even once the colonists come on bc like. As much as it's true that Cybertron's culture is fucked up, and as funny as it can be to paint Cybertronians as a bunch of weirdos who consider trying to kill someone as a common greeting not important enough to hold a grudge over.... The colonists POV kind of pissed me off a lot of times, as did the narrative tone/implications that Cybertronians are forever warlike and doomed to die by their own hands bc it just strikes me as an extremely judgemental and unsympathetic way to deal with a huge group of people with massive war PTSD and political/social tensions that were rampant even before the war?
Like, imagine living in a society rife with bigotry and discrimination where you get locked into certain occupations and social strata based on how you were born. The political tension is so bad there's a string of assassinations of politicians and leaders. The whole planet erupts into an outright war that leads (even unintentionally) to famine and chemical/biological warfare that destroys your planet. Both sides of the war are so entrenched in their pre-war sides and resentment for each other that this war lasts 4 million years and you don't even have a home planet any more. Then your home planet gets restored and a bunch of sheltered fucks come home and go "ewww why are you so violent?? You're a bunch of freaks just go live in the wilderness so that our home can belong to The Pure People Who Weren't Stupid And Evil Enough To Be Trapped In War" and then a bunch of colonists from places that know nothing about your history go "lol you people are so weird?? 🤣🤣 I don't get why y'all are fighting can't you just like, stop??? Oh okay you people are just fucked up and evil and stupid then" ((their planets are based on colonialism where their Primes wiped out the native populations btw whereas the Autobots and OP in particular fought to save organics. But that never gets brought up as a point in their favor)) as if the damage of a lifetime of war and a society that was broken even before the war can just magically go away now that the war is over.
Prowl fucking sucks but he was basically the only person that pointed out the injustice of that.
And then from then on out most of the characters from other colonies like Caminus and wherever else are going "i fucking hate you and your conflicts" w/ people like literal-nobody Slide and various Camiens getting to just sit there lecturing Optimus about how Cybertronians are too violent for their own good and how their conflicts are stupid, with only brief sympathetic moments where the Cybertronians get to be recognized as their own ppl who deserve sympathy before going right back to being lambasted.
Like I literally struggled to enjoy the story at multiple points because there was only so much I could take of the characters I knew and loved being raked over coals constantly while barely getting to defend themselves or be defended by the narrative so like. It was just fucking depressing and a little infuriating to read exRID/OP
#squiggposting#and like dont get me wrong barber wasnt trying to make cybertronians the bad guys or whatever#it's just a problem with his writing where like. he has A Message he wants to send#and so he uses the entire story literally just for The Message even if it involves bullshit plotlines#or familiar characters ppl were reading about for the past decade being shit on by OCs made up to fill a new roster#like barber's writing tends to lean way too much on a sort of lecturing tone#without giving proper care towards including moments where characters get to like. fucking express themselves and share their side#sort of like how barber couldnt be bothered to write pyra magna and optimus actually talking to each other during exrid#and instead during OP ongoing pyra is suddenly screaming about how OP is unteachable#even tho she never even tried to teach him bc she and OP never interacted bc i guess barber couldnt be bothered#he just needed someone to lecture OP so fuck making the story make sense or like letting OP get to say anything in defense#this is the infuriating part of barber's writing bc i think he has incredible IDEAS and was in charge of the lore i was most interested in#but most of the time his execution sucks and he's basically just mid with a few brilliant moments occasionally#or like he has a message about the cycle of violence he wants to convey#but his narrative choices trying to convey that theme made his story come off as super unsympathetic to the ppl who suffered#to the point where barber actively kneecapped some scenes that couldve been super fucking intense and emotional#in favor of the characters lecturing each other or some stupid plot to criticize OP#that time in unicron where windblade screamed about how this is their fault and then arcee replied that her planet is build on coloniation#shouldve happened more often than literally the last series of the ocntinuity. like goddamn stfu about your moral superiority#when your own sins are right fhere lol
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merriclo · 1 year ago
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went to see the barbie movie a few days ago and hm. weird
#spoilers for the tags and also a slight little rant#for a movie all about girls and woman it sure was all about men#and made a pregnant woman the butt of the joke just bc she was pregnant#and there’s a whole segment at the beginning where a barbie is all ‘my emotions make me stronger =)’ and then later barbie just gives up#and sobs on the ground#a character calls barbie ‘white savior barbie’ after she did literally nothing to be called a white savior#and later that same character goes ‘that’s cultural appropriation’ when her DAD tries to learn spanish bc her MOTHER SPEAKS SPANISH.#their whole patriarchy plot was weird and dumb and preachy and poorly executed#and overall he plot was just.. messy ig?? idk it was a weird experience#it also felt like mattel giving themselves a pat on the back for diversity that they (to my knowledge) do not have#and everything with the kens was odd and weird and unnecessary#it was so preachy and then it turned around and did the exact opposite thing#i thought this movie was going to be about how barbie is an intergenerational experience for so many woman#and that she brings together so many woman no matter their differences#and it was almost that. esp at the beginning#and then it turned into a weird hypocritical messy story that really had no memorable message or theme#and bro ken was so badly written. everything was badly written but especially ken.#anyways there was a wonderful scene where barbie told an old lady that she was beautiful and she replied with ‘i know’#which would be lovely if the main reason Barbie was on her quest wasn’t because she was getting cellulite and on the path to becoming ‘ugly’#uhhhshfjks yeah bad movie. lots of weird messy things.#this is more than a slight little rant oopsies#my bad i’m opinionated#this isn’t even the half of it too lmao#negativity#rant#ranting#allan and weird barbie were great tho#and the acting costumes set effects cinematography etc. were outstanding#it’s just the writing that was Fucked#there were absolutely good things but so much of it was just. hm. idk i can’t rlly explain in just he tumblr tags that well lmaoo
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rafecameronssl4t · 4 months ago
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Pilates princess || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
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Summary: you let Rafe come with you and your daughter to his first Pilates session 🙈
Warnings: pure fluff hehehe
Word count: 662
A/n: dad!Rafe melts my heart PLEASE SEND MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTS PLS N TYY
MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)
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divider @yoonitos
“How come no one’s here?” Rafe asks, locking the car and scanning the empty car park with a puzzled expression. You chuckle, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I always book out the studio so it’s just me and Mabel, and the instructor, of course,” you explain with a shrug.
Rafe nods in understanding, a small smile forming on his lips. At the mention of her name, Mabel babbles in Rafe’s arms, prompting both of you to chuckle. “See, Mabel knows where we are, don’t you, sweetie?” you coo, leaning in to tickle her gently as you approach the door to the Pilates studio.
The door swings open, and Stella beams at you both. “Hi!” she exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious. “Hi, Stella!” you reply warmly. “Hello, Mr. Cameron! Good to finally meet you,” Stella says, extending her hand towards Rafe. “Rafe is fine,” he chuckles, shaking her hand, as you giggle beside him.
“And hello, Mabel,” Stella coos, her eyes lighting up as your daughter grins in recognition. She gestures to Mabel, encouraging her to lean forward so she can carry her. Rafe hesitates, his protective instincts kicking in as he considers handing over his baby girl to someone he just met.
“Babe, it’s fine. Stella’s great with kids and she’ll take care of Mabel while we do our session,” you assure him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. He glances at you, then back at Stella, his concern slowly easing. “Sorry,” he says awkwardly as he carefully passes Mabel to Stella.
“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” Stella waves off his apology, lightly bouncing Mabel in her arms, making her giggle. “Shall we get started?” she suggests, her tone cheerful and inviting. You nod, taking Rafe’s hand and leading him to the reformer machines.
Around 15 minutes in, Rafe was already feeling the burn. He glanced over at you, noting your perfect posture as you effortlessly executed the moves. Meanwhile, he was struggling to keep up. “Rafe, try to hold that leg straight,” Stella gently corrected his posture, her tone encouraging yet firm, Mabel still in her arms as she watches her dad.
He groaned, adjusting his position as instructed. You turned your head slightly, giggling to yourself. “How do you do this shit every day?” Rafe shook his head in disbelief, his leg trembling with effort. “It takes practice,” you replied with a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
Rafe attempted to mimic your form, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite the difficulty, he couldn’t help but admire how graceful and strong you looked. “Remember to breathe,” Stella reminded him. “Inhale as you extend, exhale as you contract. Let’s do 5 more.”
Rafe tried to follow her instructions, but the movements felt anything but natural. “I don’t know how you make it look so easy,” he admitted, glancing at you. You flashed him an encouraging smile. “Just keep at it. You’ll be a pro in no time.”
About ten minutes later, Rafe decided he needed a “break.” He sat on the machine beside you, Mabel perched in his lap. The two of them watched and encouraged you as you continued your session. “Look at mommy go,” Rafe said, bouncing his leg gently. Mabel’s tiny hands were wrapped around his thumb as she gazed at you with wide eyes.
“Seriously, babe, how are you moving your body like that?” Rafe’s lips parted in awe as he watched you steadily execute a challenging move. “Like what?” you asked innocently, glancing back at them with a playful smile.
“I dunno know, you’re just so good at this. You’re not even sweating!” he marveled, lightly shaking his head at your impressive flexibility. You laughed softly, enjoying his reaction. “I think you forget I’ve been doing this since our days at kook academy,” you replied, effortlessly transitioning into the next move. “So like, 4 years ago?.”
Rafe watched you with a mix of admiration and disbelief, bouncing Mabel gently on his knee. “I don’t know, babe. You make it look so easy,” he chuckled, as Mabel’s tiny hands reached up to touch his face. You glanced over with a smile. “I’m almost done, baby,” you said gently to Mabel, who responded by clapping her hands, making everyone chuckle.
“Rafe, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Stella asks playfully as you all gather your things, preparing to leave the studio. Rafe’s face contorts into one of awkwardness. “Uhh, I think I’ll stick to the gym,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.
You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad! You did great for your first time.” Rafe grins, shaking his head. “I’ll leave the Pilates to you and Mabel,” he adjusts Mabel in his arms before leaning in to kiss your cheek.
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i-like-media · 5 months ago
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I was wondering when they were going to play with the fact the Doctor is black now. 13 being faced with how people think of women was one of my favourite things in her era, so I was curious how they were going to treat his skin colour this season, if at all.
And honestly, Dot And Bubble exceeded all my expectations on the matter!
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What a lot of episodes about racism and bigotry do is coddle the viewer. They make clear early on "this is an episode about RACISM and why it's WRONG!" As if you've never heard of the concept before and don't know it's bad. The episode will often portray racism in an extreme sense and show the viewer the main characters are above that.
What Dot And Bubble did, for the entire episode, was letting the viewer figure it out on their own. There was no coddling, only racism as it silently existed. A perfectly pastel and white community with not a single person of colour and the only visible outlier being a goth white kid. And in this world, the first thing the character we follow did, was to block a black guy with a face of disgust.
The title screen rolls and you're left to rationalise it. Surely it was because he was not in her contact list/saying all kinds of mind blowing stuff... Right? Except when Ruby enters her feed and talks about it, she actually replies back... With an eye roll, but she replies... and keeps talking... and listening.
The episode continues, still not a single POC besides the Doctor. They reveal this is an exclusive place for rich people, and eventually the character in question even admits she thought the Doctor was a different person because "I thought you looked the same".
What this episode also does well, is portraying a character we wish to see change and find a better life behind that change. We see Lindy struggle to navigate the world without her bubble, calling herself stupid, and we genuinely hope she DOES learn to be better, even as you slowly pick up on what's been going on sofar. You are left to hope she'll thank him and realise the error of her ways, and maybe find a new drive to think for herself.
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And then she doesn't.
She stays in her bubble, doubling down on how she feels about the Doctor, how they're excited to be like their settler ancestors, and finally CLEARLY revealing to the viewers what's been off this whole time... and the scene asks: did YOU notice the signs? Did you see what went wrong along the way, or did you only notice just now when it's explicitly shown to you? And why do you think that is?
It challenges the perspective of the viewer and tells you to reflect on why you didn't see it coming, and that is so so powerful.
The Doctor's reaction to this scene..... 👌👌👌👌
His mouth is ajar, stunned beyond belief that after all he's done and all he can offer, the offer to literally save their lives, he is reduced to someone who's nothing more than the hue of his skin. He yells at them, telling them he doesn't care what they think of him because he's still the same doctor he's always been, and to still get rejected with a dirty look... Which hits extra hard when you remember how much the Doctor loves being himself. He LOVES being the Doctor again! And he walks with such a pep in his step, celebrating his existence and sharing it with all he meets... and then he tries to save some rich white kids from certain death.
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His performance in that moment was literally phenomenal. It's a narrative that's so powerful and so creative in its execution, my jaw was still on the floor throughout the credits.
This episode is definitely up there as one of my favourites sofar
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pseudowho · 16 days ago
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"Why are we going to a scare trail, when you scream if a pan falls out of the cupboard?"
Kento grumbled, cosy in his cream turtleneck and teal overcoat. You preened, pressing the lids onto your travel mugs, and leaning up to nuzzle the shell of his ear.
"Because it's fun, you grumpy old goat. Come on. I need protection."
"You need sectioning, perhaps," Kento scoffed, opening the car door for you, "or the public needs protection from you." Kento shifted into gear, reversing with his arm behind your seat. You stroked a hand over his thigh.
"Well, you can be my supervisor then...sir."
Kento coughed, stalling the car at the turn, and grasping your hand with a warning glare.
"Don't. You know what that does to me."
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Clearly, the gates of hell had been opened into the other end of the Funfair. The screams were not ones of delight.
But, at the entrance, autumn leafcrunch and early chill, swirled with wood fires and yakitori and street food, spicing the crowds with orange and gold. You tucked your arm into Kento's, as if an old married couple, and squelched through the mud to your destination.
Kento grimaced up at the entrance, opening his mouth to speak, before you interrupted.
"I heard they used pig's blood. Not fake blood."
"That is grotesquely unsanitary--"
"--come on, let's queue up--"
"--I should report them to the Health and Safety executives--"
"Shhh, sh sh sh, come on now...there. Lovely."
Bouncing on your tiptoes in the queue, Kento shot you a wary sideways glance, speaking slowly, testing every word.
"I...am perfectly serious, though. You don't usually tolerate frights like this very well. Despite your profession. Always something I found...odd."
You sighed, shrugging. "Just...an overactive imagination, I think. There's something thrilling about being scared but safe. A luxury that work doesn't give us."
Kento was quiet, looking pensively into the Horror Maze, while you allowed a zombie bride to scan your entry passes. "Yes...that makes sense."
Kento was absolutely right, as you headed in. Within minutes, you were rendered useless, in a maze of bloodstained walls and cells-- some crude, tasteless attempt at an insane asylum.
And Kento remained...utterly unshaken. Not a hair out of place. Not even a flinch. Just his usual flat boredom, and irritated rumbles.
'Patients', 'doctors', 'nurses' and 'orderlies' in various states of grisly disrepair, chased you through corridors, backed you into cells, and rattled bars at you until you clung to Kento like a baby monkey.
Neither of you noticed how one of the doctors you passed turned to look at your retreating backs, tufts of fuzzy peach hair peeking out from under his surgical cap and goggles.
"Does nothing scare you?!" You demanded of Kento, squealing like a little girl as a 'doctor' tried to strap you to his table. Lifting you to safety by your waist, and tutting at the perturbed 'doctor', who sagged, put-out, Kento replied, solemn.
"Perhaps my fears are a little more abstract." You almost laughed as an approaching 'nurse' cringed away at Kento's devastatingly withering look.
It was only when you were both chased through a corridor by a horde of screaming visitors and 'patients', that you and Kento became separated. Your adrenaline felt less fun with Kento's absence, and you backed against a black curtain, your heart pumping rapidly souring blood to your limbs.
"Kento!" You called, your voice pitched and rising, "Kent--ooooooh!"
You were yanked back through the black curtain, your sobs muffled beneath a thick brown glove, and your assailant was quick to reassure you. He lifted his goggles and lowered his mask to grin at you, sweet and sunny.
"Hey! Mrs.Nanamin! It's just me."
You melted with relief, sniffling, "Oh my god-- Yuuji-- what are you doing here--"
"Ahhh, just tryna earn some extra cash. I saw where Nanamin went, want to go catch u--"
"No! Wait...Yuuji. Help me scare him."
Yuuji faltered, blinking. "What? Scare Nanamin?" Yuuji pondered, pinching his chin in thought. Eventually, he shook his head, smirking. "Nah. Nothing scares him."
You puffed your cheeks out, shaking your head. Peeking out from behind the curtain and surveying the carnage the actors wreaked upon the screaming visitors, you shook your head.
"Nope. I insist. Let's scare my husband. We'll find something-- anything."
And so, at your insistence, you and Yuuji staggered through a montage of terrific failures.
You locked Kento in a dark room, and he only hummed in minor irritation as a hissing, ragged contortionist spidered out of an impossibly tight chest. He kicked the door open, and held it open for the bewildered contortionist to leave first; "After you."
Yuuji manipulated Kento down a corridor with naught but increasingly unsettling nursery rhymes and crayon monstrosities on the walls. Kento found the radio, switched it off, and gave the crayon-marked wallpaper a despairing side-eye. He tried to scratch some crayon off, grimacing in dismay.
You encouraged a 'nurse' to spill a bag of 'blood' over Kento; he performed exquisite manoeuvres to save his coat, before sternly berating her-- "I'd rather not explain that to the dry cleaners, thank you."
Eventually, leaning back on a rickety wooden railing on a platform above the exit, you and Yuuji admitted defeat. Yuuji rubbed your shoulder in sweet conciliation.
"I told you," Yuuji sighed, as if you didn't already know, "Nanamin just isn't scared of anything."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just--"
The crack of the rail breaking behind you and Yuuji pierced the night, and you plummeted to the ground below, the air punching out of your lungs. Coughing, groaning, and dazed, you barely registered Kento calling your name, and calling your name, and CALLING YOUR NAME--
"--shit--" Kento swore, pale, and checking your head, and your eyes, and your body, and your eyes, and cupping your cheeks and surveying you for hurt or damage or injury, "--shit, are you hurt? Say something-- say something--"
You coughed, flapping a hand, saved by your Cursed Energy. "Fine, Kento, I'm fine--"
"-- jesus christ...you scared me."
You blinked up at him, feeling like the worst wife in the world. "I...scared you?"
Kento wasn't listening, still feeling your body all over in pale concentration. Yuuji sat up beside you, watching from beneath his goggles, cap and mask. He opened his mouth to speak, and Kento did not look up, but raised a single stern finger to point at him.
"Not a word, Itadori-kun. You scared me too."
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trulyhblue · 7 months ago
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Bf Leah being wound up after a bad game and takes control. Smut pls!!!!
BLED BLUE
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leah williamson x chelsea! reader
Warnings: Smut 18+, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (legal + consensual), hate sex, enemies w/ benefits, rough, coarse language.
________________
Part of you wondered how long it would take Leah to take you home. There was not an ounce of blue in her body, taken only by the lifelong allegiance to North London, but the thought of you, a blue-born Chelsea girl, taking up the space under her sheets, was addictive.
Chelsea were the better team. Always was, and always will be. The Blues were better at everything. Their players were more advanced, their game plans had been executed to perfection. Arsenal were sloppy, poor, and unjust. It was embarrassing to the point where it stood out as entertaining to you. Seeing the almighty, reigning Arsenal fall on their knees and succumb to the superiority of your team was endearing, and you found yourself searching for the thrill increasingly more as the game progressed.
And the sight of the woman you hated oh so much angered by the defeated notion of the final whistle was your idea of an indescribable victory.
“What a shame, Williamson.” You snagged, clutching the fabric at your hips, looking down at her bent figure. “I thought you’d play well.”
“Ah, it is you.” She replied with just as much spite. “I thought I saw someone falling flat on their face. Makes sense now that I know it was you.”
You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. “Yeah, tried to show my humility… y’know, after scoring two goals tonight I thought it was only necessary.”
Leah scoffed, straightening her posture to display her authoritative height over you. “Both off deflections… sounds brilliant.”
“Player of the match worthy.” You bit back, stepping forward, pressing your chest against hers, suppressing the heat in your face. “Don't worry, I’ll make sure to credit your own goal in the interview.”
“Always have an excuse to talk about me. Can't stop, can you?”
“Is that what you think of me?”
“I don't think of you.” Leah shook her head, grabbing the hem of your shorts and fiddling with them persistently. “But if I did, I’d be sure to let you know.”
“If only I cared enough to hear it.” You tutted, not really caring about the openness of your situation. The stadium was still quite full, with both of your teammates lingering on the field. Fans were banking the barricade, no doubt looking for the two of you.
“I could tell you now if you’d like.”
“Aw, are you thinking of me now, Williamson?”
You felt Leah’s hand move to the inside of your thigh, pressing a tight pinch to gain any type of reaction from you. Biting your lip, you hoped that the post-game redness covered your blush.
“I bet you love the thought of people watching this, don't you?” She asked, glaring at you with such hatred that her words felt bittersweet. “Always so desperate for attention that you’d do it in front of everyone. Fucking needy.”
“You’re the one touching me.” In anger, you snapped. You didn't like the way Leah seemed so confident, so right in what she was saying. You wanted to be right. You were the one who won it for your team. You were better than her. She needed to realise that.
The only separation between the two of you was by your arms crossed over your chest. Leah was drawing furious patterns along your thigh, pressed up against you with her face above you, your height earning her to look down.
“Pull away then.” She uttered, now pulling you into a hug. You knew this would send fans into a spiral. Everybody knew about your rivalry with Leah. It was evident in the tackles, the cards, the teams, the games, the interactions. This was unclaimed territory. You had both teased each other after the games. There was always fire and spite, anger and resentment, but never contact. She told you to pull away, and by the tension that lingered, if you did she would let you have there was something else there. You felt it between your legs, running down your spine, making your core yearn.
It was in the way she kept her hand in between your thighs, deepening her fingers just below where you needed her most. She held you tight, closing any physical gap, forcing your arms to circle her waist as she wrapped her spare arm around the name on the back of your shoulders. You don't know why, but you held her back just as tight, breathing heavily when she started moving her fingers upwards.
“So tense.” She spat, rubbing your shoulder.
You shook her arm off, keeping the contact but still resistant. “I pulled it at training, of course it is.”
“Wasn't talking about your shoulder, baby.” She chuckled, her voice sending goosebumps down your neck. “In those thighs. Clenching them so hard and I'm hardly touching ‘em.”
That was when you knew your cheeks were burning.
There was a hint of humiliation in your tone, but your anger was still prevalent. “I didn't even notice your hand.”
“Yeah, alright.” Williamson grinned, pulling away. You felt the cold air nip your cheeks at the sudden loss of contact. Her fingers were no longer soothing the ache in between your legs. “Alright, baby, no, all that flushed cheeks from the big game, hm? Breathing so heavily cause you scored two goals, is that you’re so wet for me?”
“I’m not— you're so—”
Leah stepped away again, and you were too stupid to step forward in response. “God, is that what you're gonna sound like in the interview? You a mess, Baby, really. All flustered and red.”
“I'm not red.” You snapped. “And stop calling me baby. You're only four years older than me.”
Leah could see straight through you. “But you love that though.” She saw straight past your visible persona. “Why don't you show me how mature you are then? Can't call you baby if you prove that you're not.” She could tell by your flustered state, your wide eyes and your tainted disposition that you were struggling to handle the conversation.
“I don't need to prove anything to you. I just won the match. That's enough to prove that I'm better anyway.”
“But you needed help to get there, didn't you?” She retorted. “It’s not your name on the score sheet, it's mine. Look,” she pointed up to the screen, almost condescendingly, above the stands, where WILLIAMSON (OG) was printed boldly in white below the score. “All that hard work and I still get the mention.”
There was a fight for dominance, but the fight was so clearly won when you audibly gulped, unable to come up with just enough answer to compel yourself into a deeper state of anger. If anything, you were willing to resort to forbidding, but you were stubborn and bled blue.
“You’re just mad that you lost and we won. Chelsea was always better anyway, and you were just too slow… bet that's always the case.”
Leah’s jaw clicked, her lips settling into a thin line.
“In what case?” She muttered distinctly.
“You know what case.” You failed to notice the challenge, finding yourself in a superior position of confidence to realise the hole you were digging for yourself. “Slow and boring… on and off the pitch. You definitely get around, but you never seem to see one person twice. Maybe that's because they don't want to see you.”
Leah grabbed your wrist, yanking you off the field. It was a tradition that you would see the fans after every game, so you tugged back in retaliation.
She pivoted to face you, glaring at you with so much affliction that you yearned for more.
“You seem really interested in how I ‘get around’. Sounds like you wish it was you.”
No matter how hard your body was willing to succumb to her words, you stood firm by scoffing, rolling your eyes at her cockiness. “If only I was so desperate.”
“I’ll show you just how desperate I can get you.” The captain spat, holding your forearm now, easily leading you further down the tunnel where fans or players could no longer find you. “Didn't even properly touch you before and you were a needy mess.”
“You’re always so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you, Williamson?” You snapped back, hearing the clad of your boots fail to drown out your ungrateful tone. You did not care for what Leah was so keen to impress you with. Never had anyone told you that Leah did not impress. She was determined to make sure everyone was supplied with the right things for their needs. She valued giving pleasure over receiving. But if there was one thing she hated, it was brats like you.
You stood outside the Chelsea changing rooms, your kit still adorned on your figure.
“Go get your shit.” She snarled, letting go of your arm and jabbing you forward.
You scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. “And what? You're gonna wait for me and drop me home? I have a license, Williamson, I'm not your fucking—”
You couldn't finish your rant, yelping when Leah cut you off, grabbing the collar of your shirt and mashing her lips against yours. One of her legs found its way between yours, her knee pushing against your core. A moan fell from your lips, and the woman wasted no time in slipping her tongue in, caging your figure between you and the wall.
She waited until you were kissing her back before grabbing your neck. She instantly moved down to litter harsh kisses down the nape of your neck, using her hands to move underneath your shirt, massaging your breasts. You were a mess beneath her, breathing heavily when the pressure on your clit intensified when her knee started rubbing patterns up and down.
“Swear at me again and see how it turns out for you.” She muttered in your ear, relishing the whines that fell from your lips as her knee continued its work. “If I tell you to grab your bag, that's what you do, yeah? You understand, Chelsea?”
The nickname left you shrinking, her words making your core glisten. You weren't completely sure whether the Arsenal girl was planning on taking you home. You didn't understand why you were all of a sudden pretty much moaning at the friction of her knee.
But you weren't fucking complaining.
“My teammates are in there.”
Leah let out a laugh. “You had no problem letting me touch you in a filled Stanford Bridge, Babygirl. I think it’d be healthy if your teammates realised who fucks their Stargirl after a home game.”
“You haven't fucked me, yet.” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the thought of the England captain fucking you sending you into a spiral.
“Go get your bag and then I can use that pretty mouth for something other than moaning my last name… not that I mind when you do that.”
You wasted no time in doing as you were told, forever thankful that all of your teammates were either still interacting with fans or showering. You grabbed all of your stuff and quickly followed Leah over to the away changing rooms.
She let you walk through, since none of the girls were present, grabbing your belongings and chucking them inside her cubby. You felt her figure cage you back into the nearest wall, her hands how playing with the hem of your shirt, inching it further up your waist until it was completely disregarded, and you were left in your sports bra and shorts.
“Why so quiet?” Leah asked, kissing down the column of your neck, fondling your breasts. You sighed at the growing ache in your core, throwing your head back when Leah’s knee came back into contact with your clit.
“Some— someone’s going to walk in.”
Leah snorted. “Like you would mind.”
You huffed, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her head further down your body. Leah’s knee stopped in return, leaving you writhing at the loss of pressure.
“Use your words or you can get off yourself.”
“Like you could get me off.” You retorted.
“I don't make brats cum.” She spat, moving back up to tower over you. “I edge them until they’re desperate and getting themself off my thigh. I treat them like brats, and maybe you need to work a little fucking harder for what you want.”
“You were just teasing me!”
“You're just desperate.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Leah.” There it was. Music to her ears.
“What?”
You whined, using your hips to drag yourself along her knee.
“What was that, Baby? Couldn't hear you under all those whines.”
“Leah, c’mon.” You stated potently, getting more impatient by the minute. “I'm not begging.”
The number six shrugged, looking down at you with wide, innocent eyes like she had no clue what you were going on about. Like she didn't even realise that you were humping her leg longing for some relief.
“Begging for what?” She moved her finger painstakingly down your chest, tracing your abs ever so slowly.
“For you.”
“For me?” She questioned, feigning confusion. Her hand dipped into the waistband of your shorts, circling your clit over your underwear. “Answer me, Darling. What do you want me to do? I'm touching you.”
“Touch me more.”
Leah tutted, moving her hand away. You groaned, throwing your head back when no pleasure was offered. “I'm afraid that's not how you ask. It might get you somewhere at Chelsea, but at Arsenal, we treat our Captains with respect. Even our star girls use their manners in the North end.”
“Touch me more, please.”
“Where, Chelsea?” Leah moved closer to you, peeling off her own shirt, removing your shorts, leaving you in your underwear and bra. “Be a good girl and tell me where.” She asked, her body lowering itself closer to the ground. You watched her kneel before you, hands gripping your waist, kneading your hips, lips biting your inner thigh.
“My clit, Lee, please. I need you to touch me there.”
“Such a good girl for your Captain, aren't you?” Leah ran her tongue along your folds, your underwear pooled at your feet. Your legs were swung over her shoulders, your hands buried in her hair, pulling taunt to her ponytail and the hairs that had fallen out during the game. Your moans were still muffled by the bite in your lips, the nerves of someone hearing your desperation for your enemy is still evident in the way you kept your mouth shut.
It was when Leah’s tongue latched onto your clit, sucking harshly on the swollen bud that your noises fell so adamantly from your reddened lips. You felt Leah’s cocky smile, her chuckles sending vibrations of pleasure through your body.
“Sound so pretty, Baby.”
“Leah— fuck, Lee. I'm gonna—”
“You’re going to hold it. Taste so good, you can wait.”
The coil in your stomach was forming long before Leah had even started, and the more Leah attacked your bud, the more your orgasm led to burst. Your moans had doubled in volume when one of her hands came up to play with your nipple, pinching it and playing with the nub every time her tongue licked up your folds. Her other hand worked its way through your pussy, spreading your slick all over your thighs, letting it run down your shaking legs and make your skin glisten with the glossy arousal.
“Want Stanford to hear you,” Leah spoke from below you. You whined at the thought. You were in a state of pure bliss that all cautionary thoughts of interruption were so far gone. All you could think about was Leah’s face between your legs.
“Feels so good, Lee. Want to cum so bad for you.”
“You can hold it, baby.”
“Mh, Lee, please.”
Leah moaned at your whines, nuzzling her nose up against your clit, pinching your nipple hard, reeling at the moan you let out in response. She saw the way your hole clenched around nothing, smirking at the way you rolled your hips across her face, working your pussy into her mouth so easily. She felt powerful knowing she had you at her disposal. You were stunning always, but there was something about you now that set Leah off. It made her angry knowing that you weren't hers to fuck at her discretion. It made her protective over you in ways she had never felt before. You were Chelsea’s protege — everyone worried when going up against you.
“Leah.”
It wasn't like something had changed, but Leah had realised that her hate was actually protection and adoration. She wanted you for herself. She wanted to steer you away from anyone that would hurt you. She hated Chelsea, she despised the West side more than anything, and it wasn't the sex that made her realise this.
“Leah.”
It was her name coming from your lips.
“Cum for me, Baby.”
That was all you needed to hear before you were barreling over the edge, your legs relying entirely on the strength of Leah’s upper body to keep you balanced. Your moans exemplified the stimulation of your orgasm riding out, and Leah’s endeavours to lick the result of it up as it poured into her mouth and onto your thighs.
The woman made sure you had somewhat caught your breath before she moved, having a moment to catch her own breath and comprehend what just happened. When she knew you were able to stand independently, she moved over to her cubby, grabbing the baby wipes she always had handy, moving back down to her knees to clean the mess across your legs as you covered your chest back with your jersey, and later your shorts.
Leah moved to do the same, except she watched as you fumbled with what to do. She gave you a pointed look as if to question your thinking, and you simply sighed and waddled over to her, slight humiliation at your wobbly legs painting your cheeks as you grabbed your bag.
“You all good, Baby?” She asked, her voice no longer authoritative and rather empathetic.
“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded. “Erm… sorry for being… rude… actually I'm not sorry but I am.”
“Yeah, same,” Leah replied a cheeky grin settled on her complexion. “I think we can settle for friendly rivalry from now on.”
“If that's what you call this, then sure.” You added, laughing along with what to make of the situation, feeling more out of place than ever in the middle of the Arsenal room. “I better go.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
“Lee, I've got my license—”
“It wasn't a question, Chelsea.”
You stood there defeated, knowing internally that you had no way home after Millie had driven you to the stadium and would have left by now anyway. Leah must’ve known that by the way she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest.
“Besides, wouldn't want that Player of The Match Trophy getting forgotten now, would we?”
_________________
A/N — bad ending but oh well… HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!
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ataraxiaspainting · 1 month ago
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Black and Blue.
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Yan Blade x GN Reader.
Synopsis: Blade has a habit of leaving swords on his opponents’ graves. You have a habit of picking flowers near those who are dead. Unfortunately for you, those two things combined had you meet the immortal Stellaron Hunter for the first time.
Warnings: Yandere themes, descriptions of past violence, and implications of a future unhealthy relationship/stalking.
Word Count: 700.
*~*~*~*
“Why… are you staring at me?”
Your body isn’t well covered, Blade notes as he steps a bit back to take in the full sight of you. Your arms are paler than the snow here.
One of your hands grasps the stems of the flowers you had just plucked from an important resting place. It’s deep and just as old as Blade is judging by the crumbled stone bricks and withering vines yet none of the winter elements seem to cover it. Someone or some people must keep it clean to honor the dead. 
Your grip is so tightly that the thorns have dug into your skin and have started to make you bleed. Aside from the roses, your wounds and Blade’s eyes are the only bright red things in the vicinity. 
The clouds of Morana haven’t set in a long time. They cast over this planet like a mist so thick Blade had trouble navigating himself to the top of this mountain. The humans here have angered the long-fallen Aeon, causing her to seek revenge on her people.
It isn’t the first time an Aeon has made sure their followers have tragic fates ahead. Blade knows, and so do people that the Xianzhou have long removed from their historical records.
“You’re a thief,” He replies, his voice slow and steady – afraid that you will run if he is too harsh. “This grave belongs to the late Caterina the Great.”
“Flowers only grow here and nowhere else,” You reply, your tone less scared but more annoyed now. Perhaps you have realized that Blade isn’t from Morana. “It’s too cold down there. This is the only way I can pay for food without stealing it. Please understand…”
He only hums as he listens further, yet he only tries to make sense of his emotions in this present moment.
Is this pity he feels?
No. It’s something else.
Something not like pity, but relatability. 
You have been through plenty; it is as obvious as a fact like a dog’s nature is to be loyal. Your clothes are tattered. You’re shivering from having no warm place to go. But unlike when he was a wanderer with nowhere to go and nothing to hold but his sword, you could die in so many ways here. Someone can have you executed if there are other witnesses to you stepping on a war hero’s grave so carelessly. The elements can freeze your bloodstream if it gets too cold. The mountain itself can have a tree fall on you like your fallen Aeon put all of her hatred into a singular action and positioned it at a singular person. 
The old sword is pushed into the snow in front of your bare feet, and you stop speaking.
“Be more careful next time,” Blade says. “You’ll get hurt if someone sees you.”
He points and you follow his gloved finger. 
“Take it.”
“What?”
“Take the sword,” He orders, and then quickly removes his gloves. He puts them in your palm. “It’s old. It should be enough for a while.”
“Do you mean… sell it?” You are bewildered.
“If that is what you wish, go ahead.” Blade then removes his jacket and sets it on your shoulders. “Or use it to defend yourself. I am not familiar with Morana culture, but you most likely are. Trust your gut when making this decision.”
He’ll follow you after, he decides. For a while. Maybe forever, if Kafka doesn’t allow you on the ship.
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kazumist · 4 months ago
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WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?
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✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)
✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))
✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda
✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)
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love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.
romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).
a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.
it’s another long night for him.
sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.
it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.
“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies. 
“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”
wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.
the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.
“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him? 
the answer was most definitely yes.
“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.
and again
and again. 
he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.
“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?” 
you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well. 
wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.
“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”
“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.
“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.
“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.
actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.
“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.
wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.
“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.
“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.
“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”
“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”
“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.
however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.
“fine. you got yourself a deal.”
and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.
“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?” 
“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”
“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”
“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.” 
it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.
the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”
“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”
with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.
time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.
to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?
maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.
he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.
“safe travels as well, my duke.”
— — — — — — — — 
word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides. 
the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”
“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”
“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”
“i guess you could say that.”
“well, then tell me all about it.”
“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.
she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.
“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”
you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”
“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”
“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.
as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.
“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”
— — — — — — — — 
the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.
but again, that is up until now. 
you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”
“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?” 
“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.
“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.
(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)
“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?” 
“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”
“perchance.”
“you cannot just say perchance!”
a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?
— — — — — — — — 
by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.
“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”
you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.
“i shall agree… on one condition.”
“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”
“you must call me wriothesley.” 
there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”
he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.
“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.
wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.
“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.
“have faith in us.”
— — — — — — — — 
meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay. 
it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).
there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.
wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.
(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)
tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.” 
“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”
“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”
“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”
“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”
“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.
“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”
“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.
if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side. 
this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss. 
his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.
you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.
well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?
“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.
but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:
the duke of meropide is one good kisser.
however, what will become of your relationship now?
— — — — — — — — 
you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.
“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.
you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.
as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you. 
“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.
“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”
“do you love him?”
“huh? love who?”
“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”
this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.
it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him. 
fuck.
“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper
“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact. 
yes, you do love the duke of meropide.
and you stand by that.
meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips. 
wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.” 
“shoot.”
“do you love her?”
wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.
he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back. 
“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.
no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.
(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)
— — — — — — — — 
it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.
it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.
“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.
“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”
wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?
ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.
he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.
he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”
and he leaves. just like that.
the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour. 
“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.
“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.
— — — — — — — — 
“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.
you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”
“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”
“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”
“you’re not helping!”
“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”
— — — — — — — — 
seven days.
seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since. 
just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold. 
your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.
wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?
the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.
looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.
“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”
wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”
“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”
and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.
“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.
your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”
“it can only be up to you.”
he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?
he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.
“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”
“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.
love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley. 
but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.
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sunfyredarchive · 3 months ago
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send 'be honest...' and my muse answers truthfully | accepting
【 @hightcwers sent a raven】: be honest... have I been a bad mother to you ?
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when had it all begun ?
when did it first start to appear ? this GREAT DIVIDE between them, invisible and yet ever-present. and way more consistent than the crumbs of affection he had grown too proud to seek, and she too revolted to offer.
was he this loathsome because he was unloved, or was he unloved because he was this loathsome ?
a bad mother.
is that what she was ? he could not know, he hadn't seen enough to compare. except maybe that one kitchenmaid he knew once— the one he had stumbled upon on a dreary night whilst looking for something to devour on his way back to his lonesome chambers, ever-hungry. she had her sickly looking son seated upon her lap, pressing kisses on his tiny hand. telling him how one day they would make enough coin to get away from this place, and then she would make sure he lived like a prince !
and there he was — a prince, feeling something akin to ENVY for some lowly wench's toddler who might not live to see the days she promised would come .. how shameful was that.
he remembered having half a mind to scream.
to send them fleeing in TERROR. he remembered the mental image making him LAUGH, shrill && mirthless. ugly && cruel. alerting the mother to his ever-unwelcome presence. how she had bowed clumsily and apologized ( what for, he wondered ), asking what she could do for him.
wear my mother's face, kiss my palm and tell me i too have better days ahead.
he remembered saying nothing. having realized what he'd truly hungered for was not something she could pull out from the pantry.
a good mother.
what did that make alicent ? he could not tell, but he knew he himself was a bad son. like a lame horse, like a rabid dog— something you would have no choice but to PUT OUT !
she hadn't.
was that not love enough ?
oh but he had stalled long enough, hadn't he. she expected an answer. one she might not like any more than he would.
"you've been better than what i deserved," a pause, the urge to scream returning. "but a lot worse than what i wanted."
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dorcas4meadowes · 10 months ago
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Blood bending - Luke Castellan
Pairing - Luke Castellan x Fem!Poseidonreader (yes persassy)
Summary: watching avatar the last Airbender, but it's just giving Percy ideas on how to hurt Luke <3
(My bsf gave me the head canon and had to execute it)
warning: mentions of blood
w/c (short) 648
Master list
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Nostalgia endeared the Hermes' cabin, settling amongst the slouching bodies who took closure beside the blaring television. The soft glow that the screen emitted illuminating their tired yet content faces, casting a haze amongst the cabin of travelers.
The day had be tedious and the fatigued residents found solace in the familiarity of Avatar the last air bender, the show reminiscing through their adolescence.
As the final notes of the departure theme begun to unfold many moved from their strategically placed pillows and forts of blankets to take advantage of the interval. Numerous of the smaller Hermes' children retreating to their beds with heavy yawns and blankets draped over their shoulders. The remainder of inhabitants consisted of the older counsellors, except for a disappointed blonde who sat with his arms folded over one another with a disgruntled expression on his face.
He could not relish in the show for as long as the couple adjacent to him continued to be happy.
He made you laugh? The guy with the personality of wet cabbage, Percy thought as Luke - your boyfriend of 2 months - whispered something into you ear which made you helpless giggle. Percy rolled his eyes and tried to divert his attention away from Luke, focusing on the scent of buttery popcorn which wafted across the room and then in an instant, a sinister thought crossed his mind.
You had caught your breath from Lukes words and let yourself relax against him as one of his arms loosely hung around your middle, his other intertwined with your fingers which rested against his leg. You mumbled mindlessly until something caught your gaze, your brother.
"Can you see what Perce is doing", you asked Luke since your head were mainly stowed into the side of your boyfriend.
"I don't exactly know?" he responded, which made you lift away to watch Percy abide to be a buffoon.
He subtly gestured with his fingers to mimic water bending moves he had seen and then you knew what he was trying to do as his eyes bored into Luke's.
"Baby, he trying to blood bend" you said with ease, glancing back to Luke who didn't move from his spot, an amused smile playing on his lips.
"He can't do that right?" he questioned.
"He wouldn't have the control", you responded.
"Can you?"
"Yes" you mumbled, avoiding the question.
"On who?" he asked.
"That is none of your concern".
Instead of bending Luke's insides, Percy knocked over a bottle of water which sat on the coffee table, spilling its contents across the surface, a laugh falling from your lips.
"Percy its not going to work" you snickered, softening back into your boyfriends arms.
"How do you know?" he inquired, moving his fingers once again.
"You need to be calm".
"I am calm".
"Yes very" Luke intervened.
"Shut up Castellan" he yelled.
"Percy Jackson, do not scream at my boyfriend".
"He deserves it".
"Right i'm calling Sally" you threatened, but before you could stand he begun to apologise immensely. "Not to me, to Luke".
He appeared revolted, his cheeks turning a dark hue of red, "sorry" he whispered.
"Louder".
"Sorry" he said, quieter than the first time.
"Thank you Percy" Luke said beside you, accepting the deflated confession.
"What would you have done anyways Perce?" you asked him. You watched him think about ways he could injure your boyfriend, his features forming a smile.
Throw him into a fire?
Make him spill water on himself?
Drown him?
He could do the last one simply without bending his blood so instead of replying he made a list of potential ways he could hurt your boyfriend, the repetitive thoughts of violence lulling him to sleep against the couch underneath him.
You allowed him to rest until it was only Luke and yourself on the couches. After a few complaints about the sound from the television you stood and let your boyfriend walk you back to your cabin, with a snoozing Percy resting against him in his arms. 
"He's cute when he's asleep".
“When he isn’t trying to drown you”.
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bokutosbabe · 4 months ago
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It's Nice to Have a 'Friend'
( soft launching with the haikyuu boys )
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a / n — these are fun to make so i thought i'd do one for my favorite boys. find the blue lock version here !!
content — haikyuu characters x gn! reader, takes place during timeskip, fluff, tried to make it as gn! as possible, but the photos have women, lmk if i missed anything!
synopsis — soft launching with the haikyuu boys <3
✿.。. “ sun sinks down, no curfew, ” .。.✿
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has a great following for being 'aesthetic' even though they rarely try. most things they post have photos of things they've done in the week like pictures of their food or them working.
their followers are used to aesthetic photo dumps with 10 photos each that have no rhyme or reason to them, so when they get online and see a post from their favorite account with only 3 photos and the caption
" my love " with the song 'my love mine all mine' by mitski attached? there was immediate reactions, some trying to find out who this mystery person is while others seemed to be happy with just these little snippets of the relationship.
theyluvmeee: OMG?? anyone know who this is??
↳ anon2001: it's a soft launch for a reason. that's like- common sense i fear.
they don't think of themselves as a 'content creator', they just like posting their photos. however, they did like how much strangers on the internet would stand up for them and your relationship.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ AKAASHI KEIJI, ennoshita chikara, ARAN OJIRO, daichi sawamura
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has a decent amount of followers, mostly just people they'd known in high school and family, but there were a few hundred people who followed for the cute quotes that they would post before one of their chaotic photo dumps.
their usual feed was filled with the first picture being a quote that really made you think and then the craziest pictures. them face down in a puddle after a night out? yep it's there. pictures of them at a scenic dog park? also there
people began following them for the stark contrast that showed in every post they made, but when they posted something with no quote and it was a soft launch? their fans had immediately blown up the comments.
volleyballfreak: A SOFT LAUNCH? with who? omg.
and they had replied to almost every comment asking just who you were with...
' my lover <3 '
oh he was down bad.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, aone takanobu, SUGAWARA KOSHI, osamu miya, NISHINOYA YUU, kita shinsuke, TANAKA RYUNOSUKE
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so so so sooo many followers (that came with being a professional volleyball player you supposed) many people who didn't even enjoy volleyball followed them because of the silly stuff they posted.
their fans watched their stories where they would post memes and such, something that many pros didn't do on the daily...because they had a reputation to upkeep. to be fair, all of their followers never knew them to be the brightest, so nothing they posted caused up a stir.
until they posted photos they took with, what was supposed to be, some mystery person with the caption ' a soft launch on MY minecraft server ? '
and it would have been an AMAZING soft launch...if they didn't tag your PERSONAL ACCOUNT on every. single. picture.
you weren't a pro volleyball player, you weren't an actor, you weren't even a manager, nope! you were just some normal person who lives an everyday normal life.
they had the spirit, just not the execution, but that's why their fans (and you) loved them <3
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・BOKUTO KOTARO, atsumu miya, HINATA SHOYO, KANJI KOGANEGAWA
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didn't get a chance to soft launch you before the paparazzi put out the tabloids of the both of you. the titles always saying something like "STAR VOLLEYBALL PLAYER WITH MYSTERY LOVER??"
the article was posted ten times over on every single social media platform there was, with many people with many different reactions replying to it
MSBYmomma: ur joking. he's literally mine
goofgoob: thank god one person on this team is in a loyal relationship.
the two of you hadn't even gotten the chance to open your own social medias before hundreds of texts invaded both of your phones. only from the people who knew of your relationship and were worried about the both of you.
so what did they do? reposted the photo on their story with two simple emojis...
"👍❤️"
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, kageyama tobio, OIKAWA TORU, sakusa kiyoomi
✿.。. “ twenty questions, we tell the truth. ” .。.✿
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i love soft launches and haikyuu <3
likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!
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kentobb · 4 months ago
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The Bet
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Characters: College! Sukuna x Female Reader
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Suggestive (in MeiMei’s part)
Author’s note: Look… I miss the wattpad kind of stories, ok?
Part 02 Part 03 Part 04 Part 05 Part 06 Part 07 Part 08
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Ryomen Sukuna is a force of nature on the basketball court, his movements precise and powerful, each play calculated and executed with ruthless efficiency. His reputation as one of the most popular guys in college was well-earned, not just for his athletic prowess but also for his charisma and the magnetic presence that drew people to him. His imposing stature, marked by a lithe, muscular frame and a face that seemed perpetually set in a mix of boredom and amusement, only added to his allure. Yet beneath the surface, Sukuna a man of dualities, balancing his athletic pursuits with a rigorous academic schedule as a finance major, preparing to take over his father's sprawling business empire alongside his brothers, Choso and Yuuji.
As Sukuna settled into his seat for one of his finance classes, he glanced around the room, searching for his usual group of friends, the "bros" he did most of his projects with. His gaze fell on Professor Amano, who was already launching into a monologue about the importance of collaboration and real-world application. Sukuna's attention drifted, his mind wandering to the next basketball game, the next strategy meeting with his brothers. It wasn't until Professor Amano's voice sharpened with the announcement of assigned partners for the upcoming project that Sukuna snapped back to attention.
"Ryomen Sukuna," the professor's voice rang out, "you'll be working with Y/N.”
A collective murmur rippled through the room. Sukuna's eyes narrowed as he scanned the rows of desks. Y/N. The name was vaguely familiar, but not in the way his friends names were. Then he spotted you: a quiet girl sitting near the back, partially hidden and a stack of books that seemed almost as tall as you were.
You were the type of person Sukuna had always dismissed as unimportant, background noise in the cacophony of his life. He had seen you in the library, absorbed in your studies, nose buried in books while he and his friends joked and laughed nearby. He had noticed you walking alone on campus, steps light and your eyes focused on some distant point, lost in your own world. You were like a ghost, drifting through the peripheries of his vision, never drawing enough attention to warrant a second glance.
Now, you are his partner.
Suppressing a groan, Sukuna stood and made his way to the back of the room. As he approached, you looked up, your eyes wide and slightly wary. You were plain, in an understated way, with large, expressive eyes and a delicate frame that seemed almost fragile. There was a quiet intensity about you, a depth that Sukuna couldn't quite place but found himself intrigued by despite himself.
He continued walking towards you, still observing. You were different, that much was clear. As he got closer, he realized he had been staring.
Your doe-like eyes meeting his, wide and a bit startled.
Sukuna quickly tried to play it off. "Uh, you have something on your forehead."
Your eyes widened in embarrassment, and you immediately started brushing at your forehead, clearly flustered. "Oh, um, did I get it?"
Sukuna smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, you're good."
He sat down across from you, still amused by your reaction. "What's your name?"
"Y/N…” you replied, your voice soft but clear.
"I'm Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna," he said, expecting a flicker of recognition or at least some reaction to his name. Instead, you simply nodded and immediately pulled out the project guidelines.
"So, for our project," you began, "I was thinking we could analyze a smaller company. It might be easier to get detailed information and understand their financial strategies."
Sukuna was momentarily taken aback. You weren’t flustered by him? Nor was trying to impress him?
You went straight to the point, focused entirely on the task at hand. It was... unexpected. He had anticipated some level of interest or at least the usual star-struck reaction he got from most girls. Instead, you seemed almost indifferent, entirely engrossed in the project.
"Uh, yeah, sure," he finally said, shaking off his surprise. "That sounds like a solid plan."
You nodded, jotting down notes. "Great. We should meet up in the library later to start gathering resources and outline our approach."
As you continued discussing the project, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a bit disoriented. You, Y/N, weren’t what he had expected at all. You are focused, determined, and completely unfazed by him. And for the first time in a long time, Sukuna finds himself intrigued by someone who seemed entirely uninterested in his popularity.
You both arranged to meet later that day in the library. As Sukuna made his way through the bustling campus, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. There was something about your quiet intensity that piqued his curiosity. You weren’t trying to impress him or win his favor; you were just yourself, unapologetically so.
The library was quieter than usual when he arrived, the hushed atmosphere creating a stark contrast to the lively campus outside. He spotted you at a table near the back, already surrounded by a stack of books and your laptop. You were scribbling furiously in a notebook, your brow furrowed in concentration.
"Hey," Sukuna greeted, taking a seat across from you.
You looked up briefly and nodded. "Hi. I found a few resources that might be useful for our project. Here, take a look."
You pushed a few books and articles towards him, your demeanor completely professional. Sukuna took the materials, flipping through them as he tried to shake off the odd sense of disorientation he felt around you.
"So," he said, trying to make conversation, "how come I haven't seen you around much before?"
You shrugged, your eyes still on your notes. "I- I don’t know. I’m always here studying…”
Sukuna nodded, not entirely surprised. "Makes sense. You seem pretty focused..."
"I try to be," you replied, finally looking up at him. "I want to make sure we do well on this project."
Sukuna found himself studying your face again, noticing the subtle determination in your eyes. "You're really serious about this, huh?"
"Of course," you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "A good grade on this project could make a big difference."
He couldn't help but be impressed by your dedication. Most people he knew, himself included, didn't approach their studies with this level of seriousness. "Yeah, I get that," he said. "I guess I should thank you for keeping us on track."
Your lips quirked into a small smile. "Just doing my part."
As you continued speaking about the project, your voice steady and full of conviction, Sukuna found his mind drifting. He watched you, taking in the details he hadn't noticed before. Your long sleeves hid your arms completely, the oversized sweater hanging loosely on your frame. Your long pants and well-worn Converse sneakers added to the effect, making you seem almost invisible. He could barely see your body, save for the slender column of your neck. It was almost like you didn’t want to be seen.
Your words flowed smoothly as you outlined the plan, your eyes lighting up with enthusiasm whenever you discussed a particularly interesting point. But Sukuna focus was divided. Part of him was listening to you talk about financial strategies and analysis, but another part was trying to read you, to understand why someone would go to such lengths to remain unnoticed.
Your eyes flicked to him occasionally, as if checking to make sure he was following along, but you didn't seem to notice his distracted gaze. Your hands moved animatedly as you talked, slender fingers tapping on the table for emphasis. You were clearly passionate about the project, but Sukuna couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more of you than this quiet, studious exterior.
Finally, you wrapped up the discussion. You gathered your things, slipping your notebook and pens into a well-worn backpack. "So, we’ll meet tomorrow afternoon to start compiling our research?" You confirmed, looking at him expectantly.
"Yeah, sounds good," Sukuna replied, forcing his attention back to the project. "I'll see you then.
Sukuna stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. A few of his friends called out to him, waving him over to join their conversation, but he found himself hesitating. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about the way you seemed to fade into the background while holding so much within you.
He had always been surrounded by people, his life filled with noise and activity. But now, watching you walk away, he felt a strange pull towards the quietness you embodied. You were like a puzzle, each piece hidden beneath layers of oversized clothes and a reserved demeanor, and he found himself wanting to understand you more.
As he made his way out of the library he saw you turn the corner towards the dorms. He could have followed you, but he held back, respecting your space for now. There would be plenty of time to learn more about you as you worked on the project together.
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The weekend arrived, and Sukuna's apartment transformed into the campus hotspot. The music blasted from the speakers, and the pulsating beat seemed to resonate through the walls. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and the living room was crowded with students dancing, talking, and enjoying themselves. Sukuna, typically at the center of it all, found himself drifting to the edges, his eyes scanning the room for one particular face: You.
He wove through the throng of people, nodding and smiling at familiar faces, but he couldn't spot you anywhere. He paused by the kitchen, grabbing a drink and leaning against the counter, lost in thought. Did you not know you were invited? Everyone on campus knew about the party; word had spread like wildfire. But then again, this wasn't really your scene. The loud music, the throngs of people – it was the complete opposite of the quiet, studious environment you preferred.
As he pondered this, Mei Mei, the cheerleader captain, caught his eye. She was standing with a group of friends, but her gaze was locked on him. Her confident smile and flirtatious look were unmistakable. She sauntered over, her hips swaying with each step, and leaned against the counter next to him.
"Hey, Suku" she purred, her voice barely audible over the music. "Having fun?"
"Always," he replied with a smirk. "What about you?"
"Oh, you know me," she said, leaning closer. "I always find a way to have fun."
They exchanged a few more words, the conversation laced with flirtation. Mei Mei leaned in, murmuring something in his ear that made him chuckle. He knew exactly where this was heading. With a smirk, he took her hand and led her through the crowd towards his room.
As they made their way through the party, Sukuna's thoughts momentarily drifted back to you. But why? Why you? You’re just… a random girl he is working a project with. He just had hoped you might step out of the comfort zone and show up, even if just for a little while. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t your vibe. The library, with its hushed tones and stacks of books, was more your speed.
When they reached his room, he closed the door behind them, shutting out the noise and chaos of the party. His mind focused on the present moment, and he let himself be distracted by Mei Mei, at least for a little while.
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Hours later, as the party continued to rage on outside, Sukuna found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Mei Mei was already asleep beside him, her breathing slow and steady. Despite the noise and the energy still buzzing through his apartment.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of parties, hangovers, and half-hearted attempts at studying. Sukuna couldn't help but wonder what you had been doing instead. Studying, probably. Or maybe you had spent time at the library, like you mentioned during your conversation. The thought of you enjoying a quiet, serene day by the library brought a small smile on his face.
Monday rolled around, and the campus was abuzz with talk of his party. Everyone was raving about how wild it had been, and people were already asking when the next one would be. Sukuna nodded along, playing the part of the cool, popular guy, but his mind was elsewhere.
When he entered the classroom, he immediately spotted you in your own usual seat at the back. Already engrossed in your notes, completely oblivious to the buzz of conversation around you. Sukuna frowned slightly, realizing he hadn’t seen you at the party. He wondered if you hadn’t known about it or if you had simply chosen not to come. It seemed like everyone had been invited, after all.
Sukuna made his way over to her and dropped into the seat next to her. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice still a bit rough from the weekend.
You looked up, blinking in surprise. “Hi,” you replied, then immediately started pulling out your notes and materials for the project.
You launched into a detailed explanation of the research you had gathered, focus entirely on the task at hand. You talked about financial strategies and market analysis, not once veering into anything personal. It was as if the wild weekend and his social status didn’t exist in your world. This bothered Sukuna more than he cared to admit.
“Hey, I didn’t see you at my party,” Sukuna interjected, cutting you off mid-sentence.
You looked at him, expression neutral. “That’s not really my scene.”
Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Not your scene? What’s your vibe then?”
You paused, your eyes drifting away for a moment, wondering why the famous and popular Sukuna took interest in that fact. “I guess… not that?”
Sukuna stared at you, completely bewildered. “Uh...perhaps you should try it?”
You shrugged, your demeanor calm and collected. “No, but thanks Sukuna.” You smiled, “I’ve finished my part of the project. I just need your input so we can compile everything.”
Sukuna nodded, still trying to process your turn down. “Yeah, that’s cool. I’ll get my stuff together.”
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Sukuna headed to basketball practice. The gym was alive with the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the thud of the ball hitting the ground, and the chatter of his teammates. As he entered the locker room, he could hear them talking about the weekend and other random stuff.
"Man, that party was insane," Geto said, shaking his head as he laced up his sneakers.
"Yeah, still can't believe you drank that whole keg, Geto," Todo added, giving Geto a playful shove.
Geto grinned, rubbing his head sheepishly. "What can I say? I was thirsty!"
As Sukuna joined them, Geto looked up and smirked. "Hey, Sukuna. How's that project going? Heard you didn't get paired with Nanami this time."
The rest of the team burst into laughter, enjoying the ribbing. Sukuna rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, yeah. I got stuck with the nerd."
Gojo, ever the instigator, leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet behind all those big clothes, there's someone hot."
The group fell silent for a moment before bursting into laughter and wild speculation. "Yeah, she could be hiding a killer body under there," Todo chimed in, winking.
"Maybe she's secretly a model," Gojo added, chuckling.
"Guys, seriously?" Sukuna groaned, but he couldn't help but laugh along with them. The whole situation was ridiculous.
Gojo, never one to let an opportunity for chaos pass by, continued to prod. "Come on, Sukuna. You like her, don't you?"
Sukuna rolled his eyes, feeling the weight of their collective gaze. "She's not my type, alright? I don't go for girls like her.”
"Oh really?" Gojo raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. "I bet you can't pull her. That's some big game, and you always go for the easy ones."
The locker room erupted in laughter and shouts, the noise bouncing off the walls. Sukuna felt the pressure mounting as his teammates egged him on, their immature antics reaching new heights.
"Yeah, Sukuna, she's out of your league!" Geto teased, his face split into a wide grin.
"Sukuna's got no game!" Todo added, doubling over with laughter.
Sukuna took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "It's not that I can't pull her. I just don't see any win in that."
Gojo's eyes sparkled with mischief as he stepped closer. "Alright, how about this: I bet you a hundred bucks you can't hook up with her."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Now we're talking."
The locker room exploded with cheers and laughter as the bet was made. Sukuna felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. He couldn't back down now, not with everyone watching.
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As he walked into the classroom, he spotted you in your usual seat, your nose buried in a book. He felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He approached you and sat down next to you, greeting you with a casual, "Hey."
You looked up, offering him a polite smile. "Hi."
He needed to think of something, anything and— “I was wondering if you could help me with my part of the project,” he said, trying to sound casual.
You blinked, clearly surprised by the request. “Sure. What do you need help with?”
“I’m a bit stuck on the research,” he lied, hoping you would buy it. “I was thinking maybe we could meet up later to work on it.”
“Alright,” you said, nodding. “We can meet at the library.”
Sukuna cursed inwardly but kept his cool. “Yeah, the library sounds good. What time?”
“How about five?” she suggested.
“Perfect,” he replied, smiling. “See you then.”
Class went on, and Sukuna could barely concentrate. He glanced at you every now and then, wondering how he was going to pull this off. You were like a fortress, and he needed a battering ram.
After class, Sukuna walked out, trying to shake off the morning’s frustration. He spotted Gojo leaning against a wall, smirking as he saw you walking in the opposite direction.
"Hey, Sukuna!” Gojo called out, a wide grin plastered on his face. “How’s the project with Miss Goodie two shoes going?”
Sukuna rolled his eyes. “It’s going fine, Gojo.”
Gojo raised an eyebrow, glancing at your retreating figure. “Sure looks like it. She’s practically sprinting away from you.”
The other guys from the team started gathering around, sensing another opportunity to roast Sukuna.
“What’s the matter, Sukuna? Did she turn you down for a study date?” Todo asked, laughing.
Sukuna sighed. “We’re meeting at the library.”
Gojo’s grin widened. “Oh, the library! How romantic. Did she at least agree to sit next to you?”
The guys burst into laughter, and Sukuna couldn’t help but smile despite himself. “You’re all idiots.”
Gojo clapped Sukuna on the back. “Come on, man. You’ve got to step up your game. Maybe try actually talking to her instead of just staring like a creep.”
Geto nodded, still chuckling. “Yeah, maybe bring her a coffee or something. Girls like that, right?”
Sukuna smirked, shaking his head. “Whatever, guys. You’ll see. I’ve got this.”
Gojo leaned in, lowering his voice but making sure everyone could still hear. “You know, if you actually manage to pull this off, I’ll be impressed. But until then, you’re just the guy who got turned down for a library date.”
The group dissolved into laughter again, and Sukuna couldn’t help but laugh along. It was all in good fun, but he felt a renewed determination. He was going to win this bet, not just for the money, but to prove he could do it.
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741 notes · View notes
tongue-like-a-razor · 6 months ago
Note
Can you write something with young!Maverick?
Something like where they meet and she has heard about his reputation (he's the type to only stay a few nights and then move on to the next girl). So, when one night, he approaches her all smiley and flirty (and maybe a little shy and cute) she thinks that's exactly what he wants from her - to take her home for a night of sex just to move on to other people the next day. And, even though she has developed feelings for him, she accepts it, albeit with no expectation that she will become anything other than just another one he spent a night with or that it was anything other than just sex and fun. So, imagine her surprise when he starts acting the exact opposite towards her from what she expected - always wanting to be with her everywhere, skipping nightlife to be with her, being super clingy and loving, etc, etc. She doesn't believe he has feelings for her but she just can't understand his behavior. She starts to feel overwhelmed because her feelings for him only get worse and she fears the day when he will stop giving her that kind of attention (maybe she thinks this is just a harmless game for him, where she is the shiny new toy he is getting to know until she no longer interests him that much). She confronts him, confesses her feelings, gets angry and tells him to stay away. He desperately tries to tell her about his feelings for her, that he has always been in love with her and has tried to get closer to her through everything he has done because he didn't know what else to do. She doesn't believe him and it's basically him desperately trying to prove his love for her and all that cute stuff with a really happy ending 💖❣️
I also imagined a lot of cinematic chase scenes, inspired by that sand chase in There Are Rules and the f14 airport scene in Altitude 🤣🤣 so there's that. Lots of desperate, all-consuming love, perhaps ending with a love making scene that includes it all? Making desperate, passionate and hungry love. Someone so in love that they don't even know what to do, whether to cry or laugh.
You could also include a classic “misunderstanding scene” that unearths deep-rooted jealousy, but is it not what it seems? Lol it's all very cliché but honestly, it's the best shit in the world when it's written by someone who knows what they're doing, I live for desperate love.
I know this is extra long but hopefuly you'll be able to make it, I simply love your writing. Thank you. ❣️❣️
Oooh what a fun request! Thank you so much for sending this in!! I hope you don't mind, I kind of see this as a series rather than a one-shot, just because there's a lot to cover XD
Best of the Bad Boys
Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader
CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff, allusions to sex
WC: ~2000
Masterlist
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“That’s Maverick. Maverick Mitchell.”
You tear your gaze away from the animated man near the bar, throwing his arms around wildly as he describes some aerial trick he’s no doubt performed just that morning. You know exactly who he is, and yet, you turn to your friend jadedly and say, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
She gives you a sardonic smile and skeptically scoffs. “Right. Like your father’s never mentioned his name.”
You shrug, glancing back at the pack of fighter jocks crowding the front of the establishment, each one admittedly a high-flier in his own right – pun intended. But Maverick… Maverick still manages to stand out. “He talks about all of them,” you reply nonchalantly, adding, “It’s not like I sit there and listen.”
“Why are you staring, then?”
You blink away, executing an elaborate eyeroll as you do, and fix your friend with a serious expression. “I can’t look?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“They’re nice to look at.”
Your friend nods in approval. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Doesn’t matter what his name is. What any of their names are. They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.”
“Perfect fling material, if you ask me,” your friend wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
“No thanks,” you respond with a grimace. Every couple of months, a fresh assortment of aviators arrives at Top Gun, ready to take on the world. Already the finest pilots in their respective squadrons, they are sent to train at the most elite fighter tactics school on the Pacific seaboard. Their egos soar higher than their jets and their heads are always in the clouds.
You see the various groups come and go – the program is only several weeks long – but it’s always entertaining to watch them transform over the course of their training. It’s why you frequent the officer’s club rather than any of the other pubs in the area. That and the cheap drinks.
“Probably for the best,” your friend sighs dramatically. “He’s got a reputation.”
You purse your lips, watching Maverick smile at the waitress as she distributes another round of drinks among the officers. You know about that too. “Point him out to me,” you say, as though you have no idea whom the conversation is about.
Your friend leans into the table and discreetly aims her finger in Maverick’s direction. “The pretty one,” she mutters.
You let out a small chuckle. “They’re all pretty.”
Your friend shakes her head. “Not that pretty.”
“Not that pretty,” you agree musingly. You make an effort not to fall for the top guns of Top Gun and, until Maverick, you haven’t had much trouble upholding that rule. But everything about him, from the squint of his eyes when he laughs to the radiant warmth of his smile, not to mention his muscular arms, makes your heart skip a beat.
And then he pivots in his stool and his gaze, coincidentally, lands on you. You hastily look away, hoping he didn't noticed you staring, and start to fiddle with the pearls of your necklace. Several moments later, you slowly lift your eyes to check if he’s still looking.
Your heart nearly springs up into your throat when you see that he is. His mouth quirks upward slightly before he gives you the kind of smile that says he’s confident you’ve already noticed him.
You don’t smile back. You’re not about to engage in this dance. You do not associate with pilots. Your friend, on the other hand, is all for the naval aviator experience.
“He’s looking at you,” she whispers excitedly.
“Stop,” you warn her sternly. “I’m not interested.”
“Well, I am,” she urges. “Let’s go talk to them. I like the blond one.” But before you can refuse for a second time, your friend mutters, “Oh god, never mind. They’re coming to us!”
You look at her in alarm and then gulp as several of the men from the bar approach your table. You glance up at them with raised eyebrows.
“Hello,” Maverick says, looking directly at you. He presses his lips together into a vexingly endearing sideways smirk.
When you don’t respond, your friend chimes in excitedly. “Hello, hello! Welcome!” she exclaims, as though she’s receiving guests for a dinner party. “I’m Susan. Hello!”
You eye her moodily as she motions for the newcomers to join the two of you at the table.
“Mind if I sit here?” Maverick asks, pointing to the seat next to you.
You meet his gaze reluctantly. “Knock yourself out,” you respond coolly. You’re still annoyed that he caught you staring and you intend to make it clear that you are not just some girl he can charm into bed.
Maverick’s smirk widens somewhat, as though he’s not quite buying the act. He takes a seat beside you while one of his friends starts chatting up Susan who seems very much to be enjoying the attention.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Maverick says, leaning over slightly so that he could speak more discreetly. “Slider, here, wanted to get to know your friend. And I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch him crash and burn.”
You glance at Maverick dubiously. “That’s why you’re here?”
Maverick looks at you, then, and his gaze drifts languidly over the features of your face. “Would you prefer a different reason?”
Ignoring the frantic stutter of your heart as his eyes settle on yours, you shrug and look away, taking a sip of your drink. If only he knew who your father was, he wouldn’t be so bold. “I would prefer honesty.”
“Okay,” he says, resting his forearm on the table. “Honestly? I couldn’t leave without meeting you.”
You glance back at him hesitantly, not sure how to react. “Why?” you ask, trying to control the embarrassing tremor in your voice.
Maverick drops his head and lets out a small chuckle. “I just couldn’t,” he says. “That’s as honest as I’m going to get.”
You eye him tentatively, wishing he weren’t so dangerously good-looking. His sheepish smile almost makes you forget that he dates women for sport.
But the longer Maverick sits by your side, the less important his apparent promiscuity becomes. And when the two of you wind up in the back alley behind the officer’s club, wrapped in each other’s arms, you aren’t overly concerned about the future outlook of this particular liaison. Something about the way he kisses your neck convinces you that some moderate heartache might just be worth it.
Maverick weaves his fingers through yours and lifts his arm over your head, pressing the back of your hand into the brick wall behind you. He cradles the back of your head with his other hand as his mouth moves hungrily beneath your jawline. You let out an audible sigh and he pins you even more firmly against the wall, as though the sound you made has aroused him further.
And despite your every intention to just kiss for a while before taking your leave – because you don’t do flyboys – Maverick has managed to change your mind without speaking a word. You want to tell him that you’re flattered but no thank you, instead, you breathe, “come back,” when he finally pulls away.
Maverick smirks at you and tugs on the hand he’s still holding so that you’re drawn directly into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.
You wrap your arms around his body, flattening yourself against him like you mean to be absorbed. And he folds around you like a cocoon, his arms enveloping you so securely, you barely have to hold yourself upright. He moves backward, pulling you after him toward his bike.
“We fucked,” you tell Susan the moment she puts her car in park.
She looks over at you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth as her jaw literally drops. “You and Maverick?” she shrieks.
You wince anxiously and look around, making sure nobody heard her exclamation. Then you roll up your window and nod for her to do the same. “Keep it together, Susan,” you hiss. “We’re behind enemy lines.”
Susan grimaces apologetically but the remorse is fleeting and, before you know it, she’s eagerly bouncing in her seat. “As if you’ve been blabbering on about a fender bender for half an hour and drop this bomb right before you have to go!” she whispers feverishly. You give her a grievous look which she expertly ignores. “Was he good?”
You sigh. “He was fine,” you say curtly, still uncomfortable sharing the details of last night’s encounter while sitting in the parking lot outside Hangar 1.
Susan appears disappointed. “Just fine?”
You glance around once more and then respond quietly, “He was very good.”
“I fucking knew it!” Susan yelps, tapping you on the knee excitedly. “Tell me more!”
“Later,” you say. “I have to meet my dad, remember?”
She nods. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”
“Thanks, Suz,” you respond. “You’re a life saver.”
Your father, Top Gun’s very own Viper, paces back and forth as you sit in one of the chairs before his desk. He’s trying to keep his cool. “You sure you’re not hurt?” he asks again.
You nod tiredly. You’ve had a hell of a day.
Viper sighs moodily and shakes his head at you as though he’s not convinced.
It’s at exactly this moment that there’s a knock on his door and, as you begin to rise from your chair to leave your father to his duties, Maverick enters his office.
You freeze, meeting his gaze in alarm. Maverick, in turn, stops in his tracks, gaping at you from the doorway, forgetting even to salute his superior.
“Lieutenant,” Viper says. “You need something?”
Maverick, who seems unable to look away from you, stammers, “Do – I – uh…”
“Maverick,” Viper says sternly, and Maverick finally glances in his direction.
“Commander Metcalf,” Maverick says, a little dazed as though he’s surprised to find Viper in his own office.
“Speak, Lieutenant. I don’t have all day,” Viper grumbles, still irritable from the news he’s received during your visit.
Maverick, who seems unable to recall why he’s even come, gulps nervously and glances back at you again.
“Okay, well, thanks dad,” you say quickly. “I’ll be off now.”
Maverick’s face slowly morphs into a visage of terror as he realizes who you are and what, in fact, it means for him to have had relations with the commander’s daughter. He watches you in horror, beginning to mouth the word ‘dad’ before he catches himself and leaves his mouth hanging open on the ‘a’.
“How will you get home?” Viper asks you, not paying attention to Maverick’s reaction.
“Susan’s picking me up,” you respond.
Viper sighs again. Then, he sighs in Maverick’s direction. “Maverick, meet my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Lieutenant Mitchell, recent Top Gun graduate and a helluva pilot. Hopefully, soon to be one of our newest instructors. If he finally remembers why he’s here, that is.”
Maverick glances anxiously between your face and Viper’s and then holds his hand out to you. “Pleased to meet you,” he says courteously, his eyes resting on yours for a significant moment.
You give him a tight smile and then give your father a hug. “I’ve got to go.”
Viper shakes his head all over again. “I still can’t believe that bastard hit you.”
“Who hit you?” Maverick looks over at you sharply, suddenly on high alert.
“Nobody – the other driver.” You exhale wearily, not too keen on repeating the story for a fourth time in one day. “I was in an accident –”
“Are you okay?” Maverick asks, immediately taking a step toward you.
“I’m fine, totally fine,” you assure him, taking several steps backward until you feel the doorknob at your spine. “I just need some rest.”
“We’ll sort out the car tomorrow,” Viper says.
“Hey, at least it wasn’t a jet, right?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Neither Viper not Maverick is amused by your humor, however, so you reach behind and pull open the door.
“Okay, well, bye dad! Mav – uh – Lieutenant Mitchell.”
Maverick stares after you as you retreat behind the door, still somewhat speechless.
“Tell Susan to drive carefully!” your father calls.
“Will do!” you call back.
Finally, Maverick speaks again. “I, uh” – he clears his throat – “I could give her a ride, sir.”
You pause in the doorway while your father purses his lips, considering the offer. Joke’s on him, of course, since Maverick has already given you one – just last night.
Read Part 2
Maverick Tag List:
I have no idea when this list got so long but the rest of it will be in the comments. Hope I got everyone, let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!
@wandering-wah
@callsign-sunshine
@ghost-heart34
@birdy-bat-writes
@matya4
@wkndwlff
@nyx2021
@bellamy1998
@oliviah-25
@alexxavicry
@army24--7
@thefandomimagines
@dracosluvbot
@smit41
@scenesofobx
@Criminalmindsandmarvel
@lunamoonbby
@malums-trash-can
@malindacath
@karleetakeenan
@callsign-echo
@toothemoonanddback
@broketraveler87
@atarmychick007
@shanimallina87
@creativitybeware
@xoxabs88xox
@Yoyop7
@hallecarey1
@nik2blog
@rrocky0ah
@kpopgirlbtssvt
@lilianashomaresparza
@latetedslesetoiles
@Elenavampire21
@starberryhorse
@ginger-gabsq
@sarcastic-sourwolf
@risingtripletaurus
@callsignmaverick5
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@hermaeusmorax
@littlebadariell
@simp-for-fictional-people
@ollyoxenfrees
@iamabeautifulperson18
@living-in-my-imagination88
@wintercap89
@mavrellover91
@gingerbreadandpaper
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kimhargreeves · 1 year ago
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A Flashy Act-Buggy x Reader (One Piece Live Action)
Summary: You and Luffy find yourself with new members for your small pirate crew, quickly after stealing the map to the grand line, you're all kidnapped by a crew of pirates.
(Based on the One Piece Live Action!! since no one has written about Buggy which has surprised me. Enjoy this one shot Buggy fans!! You guys can decide if you want part 2 to include smut or not😩 next part will be written depending on how well people like this🤡)
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"You know I'm gonna be king of the pirates. It's the first time I've had a ship like this." Luffy excitedly told the ginger haired girl.
"I know you've told me that many times already. Can you please be silent for once?" She asked getting annoyed by Luffy's constant talking.
"You be quiet. The kid's just excited." The green man known as Zoro told Nami.
Nami was trying to open the lock which was protecting the map inside.
Both of them unexpectedly helped us, when Luffy and I broke inside to find the map to the grand line, with a bit of help from Koby who had been kidnapped by Alvida. Thankfully Luffy saved him, the young boy said he wanted to join the Marines.
Luffy and I had entered and quickly met Nami and Zoro. Zoro was tied up with Nami dressed as a Marine trying to also have the map Luffy and I were after.
I have been by Luffy's side since many years now. Since he was a small boy, I am only just a couple of years older but I was the second person who raised him. The first being my older brother,l Shanks.
Just earlier the four of us were fighting a couple of Marine soldiers with Axe Hand Morgan trying to stop us, and almost did. If it weren't for Zoro and Luffy's help then we might've already been executed.
"He's just being enthusiastic about all of this. There's no need to be so mean." I said glaring at Nami and she glared back as well.
I decided to not say anything else to her so I walked over to where Luffy was holding onto his straw hat.
He had a smile on his face when he turned to look back at me. "Can you believe this, (Y/N). We finally have have a crew. I can only imagine the look on his face if he were to see me."
"I know he'll be proud. You're slowly becoming a true pirate." I nudge his shoulder and saw him smiling as he stared at the dark skies.
"I think we all make a pretty good team."
"Why do you even protect that hat so much. It looks like to fished it out of the trash."
"One man's trash is another man's treasure." Luffy replied to Nami when she spotted him holding onto the hat.
We all looked back and saw Nami has successfully managed to open the lock. "You did it!" Nami picked the map and unrolled it. With the four of us standing close looking down at it.
Luffy didn't get it or understood where the Grand Line is, so Nami began drawing it for him so he could understand it better. Rogers treasure is hidden somewhere in there.
A loud sort of bomb was heard with the sky now turning red. We all ran out of the ship and saw something explode in the sky. Zoro was the first to fall to the floor and Nami began to cough before she collapsed.
Oh shit. I tried to cover my mouth and nose but to was too late and I also fell to the floor and collapsed.
"Shhh (Y/N)."
I jumped up a bit and opened my eyes to see Luffy a bit too close to me. I rubbed my eyes and tried to stand up but saw that the four of us were inside of a wooden box.
"What..how did we get here?"
"It wasn't the Marines work. Before we all collapsed, I saw a ship heading towards us." Luffy said with Zoro quickly replying to him.
"It'll be easy then. Marines have training. Pirates don't."
We all were quickly met with circus music when the top of the box was removed along with the rest of the box. What the hell?
Zoro, Nami and I looked at each other weirdly when we looked at our surroundings. We were inside of a huge circus tent.
Red and white colored stripes with lights decorating the place, weird looking people and a crowd that were seated but we're tied by their ankles.
The crowd continued to clap with Luffy doing the same but Nami and I stopped him.
"No no no. Stop clapping! It's all wrong"
The four of us looked over at where the voice was coming from and we all looked to our left, and saw a tall man come through dressed entirely as a clown.
Long coat, bright blue long hair with exaggerated makeup and a red clown nose.
"The spotlight was late, it missed my entrance. And where oh where is the lion?" He said standing close to a man with white bear ears?
"Heyy. I know you." Luffy said which made me look back at him wishing he hadn't spoken.The man with blue hair turned to look at us. Wait..Luffy is right, we've seen him before.
"I saw your Wanted poster at Shell's town. You're the clown guy..umm..uhh. Binky, right?" He asked.
I nudged Luffy's shoulder. "Shut up, Luffy. That's Buggy." I muttered seeing that the clown kept his eyes on us.
"Buggy." The pirate corrected and grinned. "Buggy the Clown. Buggy, the Flashy Fool. Buggy, the Genius Jester." He said when no one spoke, seems like no one here knows about him.
"That one beside you seems to be the only one who's heard about me." I felt nervous when his blue eyes landed on me and he smiled.
I had only heard of him, and saw him on the Wanted poster. But I swear I must've at least since him once before…
He's creepy..but weirdly find him attractive. Maybe it's just my brain distracting myself from danger, who knows.
Luffy seemed impressed, "Wow. You have a lot of names."
I nodded my head and looked at Luffy, "He does. Everyone in the East Blue knows who he is."
"What did you just say?" His expression changed when I suddenly said that. Which made me confused.
"That everyone knows who you are?"
"Nose?!" I was paralyzed when Buggy came over and was now holding onto my face.
"Are you making fun of my nose?" He said a bit too close to me.
"I swear I wasn't! But..now that you mention it, is that thing real?" I asked genuinely wanting to know.
Buggy tilted his head as he stared at me, "You're kinda cute." He hummed and grinned
I saw Luffy's hand slowly started to try and tough the clowns nose until he smacked his hand away. The clown grinned looking down at me and stepped back letting go of me.
"You think you're so clever… What's real is I've been scheming for months to steal that map from old Axe Hand Moron. Only to find out that I was upstaged by four little nobodies, who stole it from right under my no-…No!! It's in my head now."
"Hey! I'm not a nobody. I'm Monkey D. Luffy. And I will be king of the pirates." My best friend said making Buggy laugh.
"Oh! Now that's funny. My bounty poster graces the marquee of every Marine Outpost for miles. And my menagerie of outcasts and freaks is the most dreaded pirate crew the East blue has ever known. I am destined to find One Piece. And when I do. I will be King."
"No, you won't. 'Cause I'm gonna find it first." Luffy told him.
Zoro stepped between us and looked at the other clowns behind Buggy. "I am Roronoa Zoro. Drop your weapons now and I may let you live."
This made Buggy laugh while looking at the green haired stoic man.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a celebrity in our midst. Too bad I hate sharing the spotlight. Now, maybe we should skip right to the finale."
Buffy retrieve a set of blades and smiled at us.
"My freaks put quite a bit of a rehearsal time into this little abduction. And if I can reward them with that map.. I suppose I'll have to offer them a pound of flesh instead."
Nami stepped between Luffy and I now, now looking at Buggy. "Wait. What if I have something else to offer you? Something more valuable than the map? What if I give you a new freak for your crew?"
"A rare talent. The most spectacular act in all the East Blue. Besides you, of course."
Nami glanced back at me and I glared back. Nami has grabbed Luffy's straw hat and tossed it up, just when Luffy showed his devil fruit powers, Nami left running.
"That little bitch." I whispered glaring at where she left.
It wasn't long at all when they brought her back and she revealed that Buggy's crew had destroyed the entire town.
He shrugged his shoulders as he stared at her. "Not everything. I let 'em keep their hands."
The sign for "clap" was lifted again, making the poor towns people begin to clap.
All the lights were suddenly focused on Buggy again. "I know one of you has my map, and I'm going to get it back." He said in a serious voice now.
"What was it you said, Rubber boy? That ir was in a safe place. Don't look so surprised. I got eyes and ears everywhere."
"I know where it is." I spoke up making all eyes turn to look at me.
I began to laugh as I showed the clowns and Buffy my middle finger. "You can all suck it or shove it up your asses.
Buffy clapped and at the people surrounding him. "Okay! Let's make our guests uncomfortable in the green room." A few clowns came to grab Nami and Zoro.
While another pair came to grab Luffy, Buggy stood behind me grabbed my neck and grinned looking at Luffy and looking back down at me.
"And I am gonna have a chat with our new pals.."
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appleteeth · 1 year ago
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I expressed this in an reply to this post, but I wanted to expand on it.
When we're talking about the toxic vibe Ed brought to the ship, with the endless raids where the loot isn't even divided amongst the crew (worse, it's being thrown overboard) so this is all for naught, it's like Ed has created his own purgatory.
"[We're] never going back to land. No. We're gonna sail, rob, raise hell forever, and ever, without end."
And I keep thinking of what Ed said to Stede in s1e4 when hounded for a solution to a life-threatening situation:
"Well you wanted to be Blackbeard. This is what it's like."
But now, it's Ed saying to Izzy:
"Well you wanted me to be Blackbeard. This is what it's like."
How far down the line Izzy begins to regret (or even if he thinks he should shoulder the blame at all) is irrelevant - the fact is Izzy wanted this. He tried to have the man Ed loved executed and when that didn't pan out and he left, Izzy threatened Ed so he'd become Blackbeard again. He knew Ed was miserable as Blackbeard, but it didn't matter, because Izzy had fallen in love with the image of Blackbeard.
Ed had said a number of times how miserable he was being Blackbeard after reaching the height of fame and infamy, to the point where he didn't even need to plan a raid. He was so excited to meet Stede because this was someone trying a different way of pirating, for better or worse.
So now that Stede is gone and Ed feels like there was no escape from the persona he has created, he's here telling Izzy and the crew that this is what it's like.
It's feeling trapped and waiting to drown. It's the same plan executed over and over and again and again. It's not putting any fucking imagination into it. It's fucking boring.
The fact is, Ed was already in purgatory long, long before he was nearly killed.
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