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dissapointu · 3 days ago

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heey!! i know this ask is kind of "basic" (?), but how u think the main arcane characters would act when jealous?

hope ur having an amazing day! 💗💗

Hey! Not a basic ask at all! I’m so happy you asked about it! Here’s how I think each of the main characters would act when they’re jealous:

————————————————————————

Jinx

When Jinx is jealous, it’s explosive. She’s fiery and impulsive, so if she sees someone giving you attention she feels should be hers, she’ll act out in her usual chaotic manner. You might find her stealing you away from the conversation or making snarky comments about the other person. Sometimes, she might do something drastic—like creating a distraction to get all eyes on her, just to pull the attention back to you both.

Her jealousy comes from a deep place of fear—fear of being left behind, fear of losing you. After she’s had a moment to cool down, she might feel guilty and try to apologize, likely with an overly affectionate gesture like hugging you too tightly or showering you with small, quirky gifts.

Vi’s jealousy is a little more reserved but still pretty obvious. She’ll start to get more protective and territorial, maybe by giving the other person a cold look or stepping in between you and anyone she feels is getting too close. Vi tends to bottle up her emotions until they boil over, so you might catch her being more snappy or distant if she feels threatened.

She doesn’t like to show weakness, but if she’s jealous, she’ll likely show it through her actions: touching your arm more often or pulling you into her space to remind everyone who you belong to. Once the tension passes, she’ll probably pull you aside and let you know, in her own way, that you mean the world to her.

Sevika

Sevika’s jealousy is subtle but intense. She’s the type to not raise her voice but to make her presence known. If someone is getting too close to you, she’ll give them a cold, calculating look that could freeze anyone in their tracks. Sevika’s jealous side is about control—she wants to make sure no one thinks they can take you from her.

She’ll often keep a closer eye on you, standing next to you, her hand brushing yours just to mark her territory. While she doesn’t usually show it outwardly, her jealousy can be felt in her sharp gaze or the slightly tense way she holds herself around others.

Silco

Silco’s jealousy is all about power dynamics. He won’t throw tantrums or act out, but he’ll certainly make it known that you’re his. If another person seems to be encroaching on his territory, he might lean in a little too close to you, making sure they see the way you belong to him. Silco will subtly remind you of his control, perhaps with a quiet comment or a possessive gesture that lets everyone know where his claim lies.

Silco’s jealousy is more calculating. He may play it cool on the outside, but inside, he’s stewing. You might notice him becoming quieter and more intense, his usual charm replaced by a steely, possessive edge when the other person is around.

Vander

Vander’s jealousy is quiet but deep. He’s protective by nature, and when he feels someone is paying attention to you, he’ll subtly step in, putting himself between you and the other person, though he might do so without saying a word. He has this quiet, brooding aura when he’s jealous, but he doesn’t let it consume him like some of the others.

Vander might not show his jealousy openly, but you’ll feel the subtle shift in the way he treats you. More hand-on-your-back gestures, longer gazes, and moments where he just wants to be closer to you. It’s his way of reassuring himself—and you—that you’re his.

Ekko

Ekko’s jealousy is playful at first, but you can tell when it starts to bother him. He’s usually laid-back, but when someone starts flirting with you or paying too much attention to you, he’ll try to act casual about it. He might throw out a teasing comment or two, or he’ll subtly remind you of his presence by getting a little closer to you. His jealousy is less about being possessive and more about wanting your attention back on him.

If Ekko’s really feeling jealous, he might act a bit pouty, rolling his eyes when someone flirts with you or trying to distract you with his own charm. His jealousy is wrapped in humor, but there’s definitely a layer of seriousness underneath.

Jayce

Jayce’s jealousy is a mix of insecurity and pride. He’s used to being admired, and when he sees someone else getting your attention, his ego takes a hit. He won’t confront the person directly, but you’ll definitely notice him getting more competitive or assertive. Jayce might try to impress you more than usual, showing off his intellect or skills to remind you of what he has to offer.

He might also get a little possessive, subtly pulling you into his space or touching you more often to show the other person that you’re with him. His jealousy makes him a little more vulnerable, but it’s wrapped up in a need to prove himself to you.

Viktor

Viktor’s jealousy is quiet but sharp. He’s usually more reserved, and he doesn’t like to show his emotions much. However, when he’s jealous, his calm demeanor shifts slightly. You might notice him giving cold stares or becoming a bit more distant with the other person. Viktor’s jealousy comes from a place of fear—he doesn’t want to lose you, and it makes him protective, though in a subtle, intellectual way.

He won’t make a scene, but you might notice that he’s paying more attention to you, giving you small tokens or compliments to make sure you know how much you mean to him. His jealousy is all about reassurance, both for himself and for you.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s jealousy is quiet, but it’s also straightforward. If she feels someone is giving you more attention than she should, she’ll get a little snappy. She’s usually so calm and controlled, but her jealousy shows through in the way she gets defensive of you. She might wrap her arm around you possessively or pull you closer to her side, making sure the other person knows where her loyalties lie.

She’ll try to be subtle about it, but you’ll notice the little hints—like her narrowed gaze or the way she holds you a little tighter than usual. Caitlyn’s jealousy comes from her desire to protect you and keep you close, though she won’t admit it easily.

Mel Medarda

Mel’s jealousy is calculated. She’s used to being in control, and when she sees someone getting close to you, she’ll start playing the game of power, making sure they know she’s the one in charge. She’ll likely become a little colder toward you, testing your loyalty without directly confronting the situation. Mel’s jealousy is more about dominance and ensuring that no one can take what’s hers.

You might notice her becoming more distant, though in reality, she’s just observing the situation carefully and making sure she keeps your attention focused on her.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s jealousy is regal but possessive. She’s a woman who knows her worth, and when someone steps into her territory, she’ll let it be known. Ambessa is likely to make a grand gesture to remind everyone—including you—that you belong to her. Her jealousy manifests in subtle but forceful ways, like ordering someone away or giving you a pointed look that says, “Don’t forget where you stand.”

Her jealousy comes from her pride—she expects loyalty and respect, and when that’s threatened, she responds with power and authority.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie’s jealousy is direct and fierce. She’s not afraid to speak her mind, so if she sees someone getting too close to you, she’ll let them know without hesitation. Maddie won’t be shy about pulling you away from someone else, using her body language and sharp words to assert that she’s the one who belongs by your side.

Her jealousy is rooted in a deep desire to protect and hold onto the person she loves. While she may seem cold or intimidating when she’s jealous, it’s simply because she’s fiercely protective of you.

Lest

Lest’s jealousy is quiet but intense. She doesn’t like to show it, but if she’s feeling possessive or threatened, she’ll subtly change her behavior toward you. Lest might get more clingy or affectionate in public, giving you more touches and attention than usual to remind the others that you’re hers. She’ll become more possessive of your time, subtly pushing others away without confrontation.

She’s not one for confrontation, but her jealousy comes out in small, quiet ways, often through the way she touches you or holds your attention.

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thef1diary · 2 days ago

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omg dirtbag!daniel is so good I can’t stop thinking about it! also your writing style is to die for. Was wondering if there was any more fuel in the tank for more dirtbag!daniel?

thank you, nonnie! I always have more dirtbag!daniel thoughts 🤭 this is what’s been on my mind lately: spit kink, marking + a bit of bratty reader. it turned out longer than I initially intended. drop some thoughts and I’d love to chat

Dirtbag!Daniel doesn’t own you. He never asked to, he never pretended to. But that didn’t stop him from treating you like you belonged to him, like your body existed solely for his amusement. Maybe it does, because no matter how filthy, how degrading his words get, you let him. You always come back for more.

Perhaps that’s why you were weaving your way through a packed bar, the dim lights flickering overhead and the bass of the music reverberating through your chest. The air is thick with humidity, the cloying scent of sweat and spilled beer clinging to every surface. It’s the kind of place where anonymity thrives—a place where you could disappear into the crowd if you wanted to.

But you didn’t come to disappear, no, you came because he called, and you were too far gone to resist.

You spot him almost immediately, leaning against the bar like he owned the place. One elbow rested lazily on the counter, a drink in his hand, his fingers curled loosely around the class. His head is tilted slightly, his dark eyes scanning the room, but there’s no mistaking the moment he sees you.

A smirk spreads across his face, slow and smug, and you feel the pull of it like a hook in your chest. It’s infuriating, that smirk. It always is. It’s the way he tells you—without words—he’s two steps ahead, already planning how to leave his mark on you, both physically and mentally.

The bar is too crowded for you to think clearly, the press of bodies around you amplifying your nerves. But as you approach him, the rest of the room blurs into the background. All you see is him, the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shirt clings to his frame, and the glint in his eyes that promises trouble.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Daniel drawled, leaning in to speak to you over the din. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every inch of your body. It’s not fair, the way he makes you feel exposed without even touching you. Like he’s already imagined all the ways he’s going to break you tonight.

You force yourself to shrug, to play it cool. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a clink. “Figured you had more self-respect,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut.

The grin that followed is demeaning, the kind that made your stomach twist in equal parts anger and want. “Guess not,” he added.

Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, the sharp edge of his insult cut deep—but not in the way they should. His insult only added to the simmering heat in your stomach, a twisted, shameful thrill curling low in your belly.

You hated how much you craved it—his mocking tone, the way he could peel you apart with a single look. But you won’t admit it. You opened your mouth to snap back, to tell him that you did have self-respect, thank you very much.

“I—”

But Daniel didn’t even give you the chance.

“Relax,” he said smoothly, interrupting without hesitation, his voice dripping with mockery. His fingers brushed against your arm as he leaned in closer, close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear. “I wasn’t looking for an argument, sweetheart. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Your breath hitched, and you hated the way his presence overwhelmed you, how his tone left no room for you to gain the upper hand. His smirk widened as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement, like this was all a game to him.

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t craving something,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “And we both know exactly what that is.”

Daniel didn’t even wait for you to respond, his smirk widening before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer. Before you could catch your breath, his mouth was on yours, the kiss filthy and unapologetic. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue parting your lips with ease.

You melted into him, your resistance crumbling the moment he pulled you against his chest. The sheer force of his presence made your knees weak, and you hated how easily you gave in, how much you wanted this.

He almost chuckled into the kiss, the vibrations teasing against your lips, but he didn’t pull away. No, Daniel kissed you like he had something to prove, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue hot and insistent. It was consuming, like he wanted to claim every part of you here and now, and he didn’t give a damn who saw it.

You dimly registered the press of bodies around you, the muffled gasps and sidelong glances from strangers who couldn’t help but notice the spectacle he was making of you. But Daniel didn’t care, not even a little. If anything, the idea of an audience seemed to spur him on, his hand gripping your hip possessively, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead brushing against yours as he smirked down at you, his breath fanning over your lips. His gaze was molten, full of arrogance and something darker, something that made your stomach flip.

“See? You’re too easy,” he muttered, his tone low and mocking, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he loved every second of it. His thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, smearing the remnants of his own claim on you, and you felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny.

Daniel looked back, the smirk on his face growing as he signaled the bartender with two fingers. “Whiskey for me,” he said, his tone relaxed, almost bored, before his gaze slid back to you. “And for her…” He looked you up and down like he was appraising you, his lip curling slightly. “Something sweet. She needs it.”

You bristled at the condescension in his tone, but the bartender was already nodding, turning to make the drinks. Daniel’s attention shifted back to you, and he leaned his hip against the bar, his stance casual but his gaze piercing.

The drinks arrived moments later, and he slid it toward you, his fingers brushing yours as he handed it over. “Go on,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, the words laced with challenge. “Show me just how good you are at taking what I give you.”

Your fingers closed around the glass, but your grip faltered as his words sank in, their double meaning curling around your chest and tightening like a vice.

“I don’t take orders from you, Daniel,” you managed to bite out. Daniel raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, “don’t you?”

His eyes dropped to the drink in your hand, then back to your face, challenging you. “C’mon, I know you can be good for me.”

Your grip tightened around the glass as you raised it to your lips, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away. Daniel’s gaze stayed fixed on you, intense and unwavering, his smirk deepening as if he could feel the fire burning under your skin.

The drink was just as he’d ordered—sweet and cloying, the kind of thing that lingered too long on your tongue. His eyes flickered to your throat as you tipped the glass back, watching the subtle motion of you finishing the drink. The heat in his gaze made your skin prickle, and your breath hitched as you placed the empty glass on the bar with deliberate finality.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice like silk, but there was a dangerous edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without another word, he picked up his whiskey and downed it in a single smooth motion, the glass hitting the bar with a quiet clink. His hand found yours before you could react, his fingers firm but not rough as he tugged you from the bar.

“Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You followed as he guided you through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. He maneuvered you effortlessly, weaving through the bodies pressed close together until you reached a dark corner of the bar. The music was quieter here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that seemed to swallow you both whole.

Daniel turned to face you, his smirk growing as he backed you up against a wall. His eyes raked over you, dark and predatory, and for a moment, you felt like a cornered animal under his unrelenting gaze.

“Drop the act,” he murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only you could hear it over the muffled thrum of the music. “We both know why you’re here.”

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” His eyes dragged over you, taking in every detail—the way your dress clung to your frame, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His gaze lingered, unapologetic and ravenous, and you felt the heat of it searing into you. “Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and cutting. “All dolled up, hoping I’d notice. Hoping I’d take one look at you and decide to ruin you.”

Your breath caught as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His smirk deepened, cruel and knowing, like he could see right through you

“You’re not even trying to deny it,” he went on, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. “The second I called, you came running, didn’t you? Like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Danny…” you murmured, the plea barely audible, your voice trembling under the weight of his words. Your cheeks burned, humiliation mingling with the thrill that coursed through you, leaving you lightheaded.

He simply chuckled, watching you squirm in place as he had you exactly where he wanted you. His grip was firm, his thumb pressing down just enough to part your lips. “Ah, ah,” he chided, his voice a mockery of sweetness. “Don’t get shy on me now. You wanted this. You wanted me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, desperately, the act slipping away as soon as he called you his slut—which was exactly what you were, what you’d always be for him.

“There it is,” he murmured, satisfaction dripping from his voice. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His smirk widened, his thumb tracing the edge of your lip before dragging it down your chin, a slow, deliberate motion that made you shiver. “I can see it, you know. The way you’re squirming, the way your eyes keep flicking to my mouth like you’re imagining all the filthy things I could do to you.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words wrapped around you, tightening the coil of tension low in your belly.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dipping even lower, the edge of his accent sharpening his words. “Say you came here for me. Say you came here to let me ruin you.”

Your lips parted, the heat of his gaze pulling the words from you before you could stop them. “I did,” you whispered, voice trembling as your cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “I came here for you. I want you to ruin me.”

His hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “That’s my obedient little slut,” he murmured, a grin breaking out on his face.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, smudging your lipstick further—his kiss earlier already having ruined it—leaving a streak of red across your skin. His grin widened as his eyes followed the smear. “Such a pretty mess already. Let’s make it worse.”

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “Stick out your tongue.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you obeyed, parting your lips and letting your tongue peek out, feeling utterly exposed under his watchful, predatory stare.

He tilted his head, letting a slow stream of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you held still, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Close,” he instructed, and you did, your lips sealing around the weight of his demand.

“Swallow,” he said next, his voice sharp and deliberate, the edge of his accent making it sound even filthier.

You swallowed, the act leaving a warmth in your belly that had nothing to do with the heat of the room. His smirk grew, impossibly smug, as his thumb returned to your jaw, tilting your face further toward him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “You take orders so well, don’t you? Makes me wonder what else that filthy mouth of yours is good for.”

You whimpered under the weight of his words, your knees threatening to give out as his free hand slid down to your shoulder, then lower, fingers toying with the strap of your dress. He tugged it down slightly, just enough to bare your skin to him—revealing a few more marks he left behind a couple days ago.

“Mine,” he muttered under his breath, leaning in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, biting down gently, then harder, until you gasped. He pulled back to admire the mark blooming on your skin—a deep red imprint of his teeth.

“You look so much better when you’re marked up,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Everyone who sees these will know exactly who you belong to.”

His hand wandered back up, fingers brushing the column of your throat before tightening just enough to send a wave of heat coursing through you. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch. “Being claimed, being ruined. You’ve been craving this all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned into his touch. “Please, Danny. I want more.”

His grin turned almost cruel as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Oh, you’ll get more, sweetheart,” he promised, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Perhaps you did belong to him, but the realization wasn’t as terrifying as you’d expected. In fact, it felt strangely natural, even comforting, as you found yourself agreeing with him without hesitation. Not that you ever had the strength to resist him in the first place. You were already a goner from the first time he degraded you like no other.

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signedaiko · 23 hours ago

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begging- BEGGING PLEASSEE!!

for a Bumblee Bee x Decepticon reader who’s short like him but more timid than their comrades. Like they mess up on missions, but they can be snappy too and fast like Bumblebee! I imagine him chasing them in a fun cat and mouse and accidentally takes it like a fun game. all scaring the heck out of them as he catches up with a smile. He would start crushing on them and just says things like it’s a fun idea “you should totally switch sides! Join us!” And the reader is all bewildered but wary.

Bumblebee [Animated]

In which the small bot finds a con just about his size that he wants to spend more time with.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Cybertronian | Decepticon. Romantic.

Bee has a fair few con encounters now that he is fighting for Earth

Usually they were against the likes of Blitzwing, Lugnut, and the odd Starscream

But you were new; you were something that paled in size but made up for in interest

You were mostly known for your ability to distract; that's right, the cons used you as a lure on purpose

You were small, nimble, decently fast, and as Random had once told you;

"You have the face of an Autobot!"

Autobots thought you were an easy target, easy to manipulate, perhaps less smart

But you were dedicated to the cause, and while you hated being bait and preferred your spot on intelligence collection, you were happy to do whatever Megatron wished of you

Usually, it was fine

But recently, the yellow one had gotten too close, and he was only getting better at catching up to you

Telling the cons you were scared was out of the question, but it was seriously concerning how obsessive it had become

Every time you made yourself visible to the Bots, he was racing towards you with a smile and a hand extended, like he expected you to reach out and accept him just like that

More recently, you were worried he'd actually catch you

Racing down a frozen-over river as thick snow slowly fell from the sky, leafless trees whizzing past your vision as your peds left compacted snow marks behind you

He had special wheels made for snow, but you didn't, and he was fast behind you, yelling some more of his pleas

"Aren't you tired of running? I just wanna talk!"

He sounded so young, certainly near your age, someone you could get along with had it not been for the war

But what if it was only a trick? What if he only played this game for his own amusement?

You'd long since called Blitzwing to help get you, since you couldn't fly, and he was on his way, but visibility was low with all the snow, fog, and your distant location

You had to keep running, but Bee was only a few meters behind by now; you could hear the snow crunching beneath his tires

"C'mon! Join the bots! We can race like this more often on real roads!"

He offered again, but you refused

"You make it sound easy; how about you just join the cons?"

You were just as snappy, though

Just as he got on your heels and transformed, digits inches away from grabbing your arm, you jumped up and grabbed onto the wing of the purple and tan jet that swooped down, dragged away from his reach in seconds

He stopped in his tracks and groaned, but his smile never left

"Next time, then!"

Authors Note - This prompt is so cute!!! It honestly reminds me of a Blitzwing fic I read by @vhaos-chaotic-writing that was him being yandere and kinda doing the same!

#aiko writez #transformers #headcanons #transformers x reader #transformer headcanons #x reader #reader insert #tfa x reader #tfa #tfa bumblebee #bumblebee x reader

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lowkeyren · 19 hours ago

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MANNN neuron activation fic wtf this was bodacious 🤑🤑‼️

You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.

throughout the whole fic, ratio does acknowledge reader's extraordinary talent.

admiration and frustration, with hints of jealousy, idealism, and a deep desire for reader to live up to their potential —or at least, the potential he believes they should fulfill.

“What else are fools good for?” He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”

exactly, "teaching". GS hoards knowledge, they're selfish, but ratio is not. and that's precisely why he doesn’t belong in the GS.

“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves. In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.” You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.” And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain. Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”

this part where dr. ratio asks reader why they left the GS is so impactful because it gets right to the heart of the GS’s biggest flaw. it says a lot abt him n his philosophy of spreading knowledge, which completely clashes with GS's obsession with keeping it all to themselves.

and the way reader turns it into a proof of his integrity and not a weakness, is so compelling.

For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio.

for ratio, “mediocre” might signify being flawed, human, and perhaps now, free from the impossible standards he’s been judged by.

anyhow, reader is basically telling him: "you see yourself as mediocre, and maybe you are, in the sense that we all are. but that’s exactly why you matter. your humanity and your willingness to acknowledge imperfection —is what makes you extraordinary in a way the genius society can never be."

₊˚.- NEEDLES AND PINS

Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.

Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.

wc - 3.4k

A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.

Veritas Ratio was a Needle.

At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds.

His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way.

So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit.

Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does.

And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature.

“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”

- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius

A fool.

Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office.

That is what you were. That is your nature.

A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?”

Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past.

It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy.

But could you do such a thing?

You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity.

He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act.

He shouldn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He’s over that.

Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more.

But who might this fool be?

Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns.

Yet, there’s nothing.

There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.”

“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”

- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius

Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. Students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near.

“Dr. Ratio.”

It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.

He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons.

He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever.

He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side.

“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.

Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him.

But then he takes his first look at you.

Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the sight of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you.

“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you.

“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton.

Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions.

You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.”

He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut.

“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another.

“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”

“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs. His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind.

“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought.

A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh. An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that.

He picks up the book.

He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly.

“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”

He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him.

“Which is your favorite?”

Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you.

Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot.

“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away.

His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back.

“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”

- Intelligentsia Guild

He ignores you.

That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him.

So he does just that.

He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more.

So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them.

Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.

Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.

He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him.

As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.

You made sure not to dirty them.

“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.”

- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings”

“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor.

You smile at him—book held in hand.

He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something.

But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page.

“You read about me?”

Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly.

“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.”

He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “You’re quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.”

His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach.

“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?”

He sits there in silence looking at you.

“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.”

He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re a fool. Through and through.”

“Is that so?”

“The evidence is clear.”

“Do elaborate, Doctor.”

He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.”

“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours.

“You’re an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.”

“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him.

“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.”

You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.

You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you.

“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“

“Leave the genius Society,” you finish.

Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to.

“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”

He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult.

You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’

“Barely?” You ask.

“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk.

You lean over it, your spread out hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”

Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains.

You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.”

A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind.

He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis.

“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.”

“But not from me?”

Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself.

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present.

“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens.

He stays silent.

“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity.

If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even.

Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”

“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.

“What else are fools good for?”

He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”

Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns.

He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment, there was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive.

“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?”

What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively.

You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”

And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain.

Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”

He’s in silence.

He says nothing because he can’t say something.

You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him.

He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly.

Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your expression is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”

You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness.

His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…

You are none of what he had made you out to be…

Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius.

But a kind soul.

He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared.

His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book that his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap.

For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio.

Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap.

Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.

One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come.

“THEIR silence was deafening.”

- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank

Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle.

But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin.

ty for reading. reblogs are appreciated <3

#✧renloves!#every once in a while i come across a good ratio fic and this is defo one of em!!!!!#the characterization is ON POINT #the dynamic is so perfect. THIS IS EXACTLY THE TYPE OF READER THAT COMPLEMENTS RATIO.#i fw the way u wrote this op #and u made the reader so loveable i feel giddy now LMAOAJDIASJS

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ego13 · 16 hours ago

Text

𑜷 ” 因為 𝑺HE SAID '𝑭UCK ME LIKE IM FAMOUS' – 𝑨UDI𝒁 X FEM!READER | 𖥻˙.⭒

𖥻˙.⭒ https://now_playing : 𝚌hase atlanti𝚌 - OKAY

˳ ୭ ꕀ https://synopsis : coming to another boring party, you found yourself a wonderful company with whom you didn’t mind retiring in the spare room of the mansion.

ʾ ִ𓏸 𝆬‌ ۪ . https://warnings : lesbian sex, threesome, sex tape, thigh riding, sloppy sex, hickeys, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, fingering, sex with strangers, loud sex, praise kink, service top!audiz

ˑ ִ ֗𖧷 https://pairing : yu jimin x uchinaga aeri x reader

ᨦ꒰ ៸៸ ꒱ https://authors_note : this is the stupidest thing I've ever written, so excuse the poor writing, I'm having writer's block right now, and it's hard for me to come up with something better. <3

༄ ₊ ꒷https://word_count : 1,9k

L0AD1NG . .

loud music, flashing lights and the voices of drunk people are what surrounded you at the moment, in principle, such an environment has long been commonplace for you, and perhaps someone feels uncomfortable being in such companies, but not you, because your brain already subconsciously felt as if you were really where you should be.

so, having dragged yourself to another party for the sake of free booze, you entered the mansion that you had already known for a long time, you met the owner of this house a long time ago, but it was only recently that you led such a riotous lifestyle by going to such events, after all, you are an ordinary student who spends hours studying and prays every day to think about something other than papers, textbooks and exams.

after another hard day at school, your legs instinctively carried you along the corridor, in search of the door from where this loud music was flowing, and finally the cherished gates opened, and dozens of drunken people appeared before your eyes, and grinning, you were anticipating how you yourself would soon find yourself in a similar state of nirvana, so finding an 'impromptu' bar which consisted of an ordinary table and a dozen bottles standing on it.

you approached the guy standing at the table, he smiled when he saw you, because it was clearly not the first time he had seen you, and you didn’t even have to say anything before his hands independently took the plastic red cup in his hands, pouring colored alcoholic liquid into it, holding it out with such a smile, "so, because of the booze here again?” he asked, picking up his cup and taking a few small sips, "you know, it's better to go to parties for the sake of drinking, and not in the hope that someone will fuck with you."

he playfully rolled his eyes, realizing that the hint was about him, "come on, I won't get anything tonight anyway, so let's just have a drink," you clink cups, and you drank all the contents in one gulp, causing him a pleasant surprise, "what are you, a professional alcoholic? I've never seen a girl who downs half a glass of liquor in one go." you playfully pushed him on the shoulder before grabbing the first bottle you came across, pouring the contents into your cup as you walked away from the table deeper into the dance floor.

still, drinking alcohol in one gulp is clearly not the best idea for you, because a few minutes after you left the bar, you felt your head pleasantly spinning, and as a result, you didn’t notice how you accidentally bumped into an unfamiliar pink-haired girl standing with her back to you.

you immediately began to apologize, saying that it happened by accident, but before you could finish half the sentence, you saw how she turns to face you, and behind her you can see another girl who puts her elbow on her shoulder, "baby, is everything okay?" asked the pink-haired girl, in whose voice there was absolutely no hint of anger, rather, on the contrary, her voice was so calm that it literally intoxicated, "hey, why don't we take care of such a beautiful girl? we see that you are alone here, so why not fix it?"

your evening sucked so much that hearing these words, you only enthusiastically said “yes, please", and upon hearing permission, you felt both girls’ arms wrap around your waist, helping you move away from the dance floor and up to the second floor of the house. the three of you walked along a corridor with a bunch of doors, while the dark-haired girl randomly opened all the doors that came to hand, someone was sleeping, someone was fucking, and she was quietly swearing under her breath, because they urgently needed this fucking spare room, which is finally there, and they both push you needily into it, closing the door from the inside.

in an instant, you found yourself sitting on uchinaga’s lap, while yu’s predatory hands explored your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone, you felt how she ran her fangs along the milky and tender skin, knocking out the first quiet moan from you, obviously not the last for this evening.

you feel the warmth of aeri's breath settling on your rosy face. your fidgets in place and shyly fiddles with the bottom of your black dress in your damp fingers, her gaze penetrates you to your core, making you involuntarily tense and bring trembling hips together. it starts to pulsate between your legs.

jimin finally exhales loudly. the heat mercilessly makes its way to your aching groin and she grabs your dress with her fingertips, exposing a strip of skin on your stomach, "look at her, so fuckin' pretty..." uchinaga only grunted in response, looking at you with interest, greedily licking her lips when her gaze fell on the bare skin of your stomach.

your arms suddenly weaken, as if a huge weight is falling on you, but jimin continues to lift your dress until you are left in just your underwear. your dress flies somewhere into the corner of the room, because now you definitely don’t need it, you feels with your skin how their eyes is crawling scrutinizingly and greedily over your trembling body, and it’s suddenly so exciting, so nervous, and you could swear that no one in your life looked at you like that, and you never felt so wanted in your life.

aeri's palms immediately find themselves on your hot cheeks, in whose eyes adoration and reverence are unmistakably discernible, "you are incredible, princess, so needy, good girl..."

jimin's palms slide over the delicate skin around the ribs and freeze under the seductive small roundness. you sucks in your stomach and sighs heavily, while your skin is covered with goosebumps from the feeling of the hot hands of both girls on your body.

uchinaga's eyes sparkle with anticipation when she inquisitively looks into your ruddy face, at the same instant, her palms carefully grasp your breasts, completely covering them, and with her thumbs she circle the wrinkled nipples, lips, at the same moment cover her sensitive nipple, pulling it deep into the mouth and rolling it between the teeth.

a long-awaited moan escaped your lips again, pressing your breasts into aeri’s face, at the same moment you felt how the lips of jimin, who was behind, left a trail of wet kisses and bites along your spine, while her hands were on your waist, holding you in her pink haired lap.

aeri impulsively squeezes the delicate skin with her fingers, and more demandingly closes her lips on the tense lump of flesh, you choke on a groan and nod desperately, squinting your eyelids and grabbing the girl’s shoulders with shaking palms, she naturally grins and impatiently places her hands on your ass, squeezing it slightly.

trembling all over and whimpering softly from sensitivity and painful sharp outbreaks from unexpected tingling sensations, you spread your legs wider and slowly lower yourself onto her exposed knee, pressing your wet crotch tightly against it and bending your lower back pliantly, "come on, sweetheart, move a little, like that... good girl."

you strains the internal muscles of your cunt, which rapidly contract, pushing out the lubricant more actively, from the girl’s approving tone and presses your groin harder into your in the hope of a long-awaited relief, you moan loudly and again sits heavily on top of the girl, responsively pushing towards her hot and demanding mouth.

aeri's breath is pounding heavily, a dull rhythm beating in her ears as she tries in vain to pull herself together, but you can only more persistently suck on your breasts and press your seductively swaying hips to yourself as tightly as possible.

you throw your head back and part your dry lips to let a quiet moan escape them, finally feeling the long-awaited climax, while yu's hands continued to hold your trembling body, helping you stay in one position, whispering in your ear in a quiet and hoarse voice about how well you did and how good you were.

her strong hands helped you get up from your knees, her strong hands helped you get up from aeri’s lap, carefully laying you on the bed, while uchinaga's hand reached into the pocket of her pants, taking out her phone from there, opening the camera app, placing it on the bedside table so that the three of you could be seen, "well, princess, let's make this night a little more fun?"

a shiver of anticipation runs down your back, and a hot wave settles between your thighs again, you whine pitifully and spread your legs further, allowing jimin's hand to slide under your underwear, she carefully pulls off her already soaked black panties from your rounded hips, she kisses the sunken belly, inhaling the faint aroma of your desire, as uchinaga positioned herself behind you, allowing you to rest your back on her, her hands slid to your breasts, squeezing them lightly, enjoying your languid sighs and needy whines.

you whine pitifully and pleadingly again, and jimin makes her way to the wet flesh, impatiently penetrating inside the delicate folds, teasing your clit with her tongue, squeezing your thighs in her hands, leaving red prints of her palms on them. your back arches when her skillful tongue touches you there, and mixed with the aeri's touches, who continued to play with your breasts, burning the tender skin of your collarbone with my breath. finally, yu’s tongue slid inside you, pushing so deeply that you couldn’t even imagine that someone could touch you there.

it only took you a few damn minutes before your back arched to the point of a crunch, and a loud moan escaped your lips, repeating the name of both girls like a mantra, pulling away from you, the black-haired girl greedily licks her lips, licking the remnants of your taste from them, which made you blush even more, "you're so delicious, it seems to me that I could eat you all the time and never get tired of it," these words made uchinaga giggle, moving his lips to your earlobe, "hey, jimin-nie, don't make our girl even more embarrassed."

just as you were about to relax, you felt the pink haired hand slide down your stomach, a slight shiver runs through her body, and she rubs the slippery spot harder with the pad of her thumb, you cry out quietly as she slowly slides into her, pushing deeper, all the way to the knuckles, you squeeze her finger with your muscles. aeri freezes with her whole body, feeling resistance, "shh, princess, relax, okay? you're doing so well..." she kisses your rosy cheek and circles her sensitive clit with her thumb.

you clearly wants to say something, but chokes on another moan and a sharp slurping thrust. now two long fingers confidently slide in you, jimin's hands held your thighs, not allowing you to close them, despite your desperate attempts to do so, "baby, everything is fine, yeah, just relax..."

after her shameless statement, you sob subtly, gently squeezing her fingers, and carefully kiss aeri on the lips, in response to which yu's lips gently kissed the back of your neck, "good girl... should we continue, huh?"

after these words you realized that the night is still damn long, and a wonderful company of two damn sexy girls and several hours of damn porn on aeri's phone awaits you...

#gg x reader #girl group x reader #wlw #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #giselle x reader #giselle x fem reader #aespa smut #kpop smut #sapphic #karina #giselle

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days ago

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Hello, I hope that I'm not too late for a small request for the NRC family interaction. But still do want to ask for a req for Azul Ashengrotto and Jamil Vipver to interact with Najma Viper. I could already imagine how chaotic it would be already.

Oml, Jamil’s worst nightmare would be if Najma developed a crush on Azul 😭 He would so go protective big brother mode… I didn’t decide to do that for this interaction though, it’s just a funny thought I had.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Oya, is that my dear friend Jamil-san over there?”

That voice. That ever-so grating voice, trilling out his name so sweetly. Immediately, Jamil wished to retreat into his hoodie like a turtle to a shell and die there.

Alas, he could do no such thing—not when he was trapped among several milling bodies, his younger sister in tow. Najma had heard and glanced over her shoulder. She locked eyes with the approaching octopus and arched an eyebrow as she tugged on her brother’s sleeve.

“Hmm? Hey, Jamil. There’s a guy in glasses headed this way and waving. It sounds like he wants your attention,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he hissed back, already starting to powerwalk away from Azul. And that’s just what I’m afraid of.

“Aren’t you going to at least say hi? It’d be rude to straight up ignore him.”

Jamil internally cursed. All that nagging from their parents about etiquette and how to show hospitality had been well and truly drilled into him as well as into her. Now it came back to bite him like a loose snake where it smarted the most.

“Please. He isn’t worth my breath—or the trouble.”

“Jamil-san! Please wait.”

To his dismay, Najma stopped dead in her tracks. “I really think you should greet him before you go.”

He gaped at her. “You’re joking.”

“Sevens, why are you being so weird about this?” She rolled her eyes. Then, cupping her hands around her mouth, she called out to Azul. Jamil’s stomach sank. “H~eeeeey! Jamil onii-chan’s friend! It’s nice to meet you. I’m his adorable little sister, Najma.”

He frowned. “Since when am I Jamil onii-chan? And since when are you my adorable little sister?”

“Since now,” she muttered back.

“Ahhh, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Azul crooned. He took Najma’s hand and shook it. “Azul Ashengrotto, at your service. I’m a classmate of your brother’s, as well as dorm leader of Octavinelle and manager of the student-run on-campus eatery, Mostro Lounge.”

“Oh, wow!! That sounds so cool.”

“He’s humble bragging,” Jamil said flatly, folding his arms. “… What do you want, Azul?”

“Is that any way to greet your beloved bosom buddy?” He sighed, shrugging his hands up. “I only wanted to check in with you and make sure that you were enjoying Family Day.”

“Don’t say that. It’s disgusting—and patently false.”

Jamil’s eyes sharpened into pointed daggers. He’s surely sniffing around for weak points. If he cannot glean them from me, then he intends to pry those secrets from Najma. I won’t allow that to come to pass.

He gripped his little sister’s hand tightly and tugged on it. “I believe this concludes the obligatory pleasantries. Come along, Najma. We must get going to our next meeting.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” she pouted, yanking back. “You’d seriously rather go to a boring old meeting than chat with a friend?”

“Don’t be difficult. You’re not visiting to make social calls, you’re here on business.”

“But you’re not attempting to socialize at all. Geez, you’re not putting anything you learned at home to practice, are you?”

“I am plenty!! I’m just selective about where and when to apply those teachings—as should you.”

“What a deep bond you have with your sister, Jamil-san. You fuss over her like a mother hen,” Azul chuckled, pushing his glasses up. “Why, as an only child, it warms my heart to see this kind of camaraderie. I shall have to commit this to memory.”

A heart? he scoffed. A cold, slimy one, perhaps.

Jamil shot Azul a frigid glare. “Do NOT.”

“Oh? But what is so wrong with appreciating a tender moment of bickering between siblings? It’s something I could never hope to experience myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jamil! You’re so totally being mean to your classmate for no good reason. Don’t you feel any shame?”

“Are you taking his side in this?!” he demanded of his sister.

“So what if I am?”

“My, my, Najma-san!” Azul suddenly wedged himself between the Vipers like an octopus slipping into the crack of a rock. His smile was annoyingly broad and simpering. “It seems that you and I are kindred spirits.”

“Yup! Looks like we are,” Najma agreed, an equally unsettling smile creeping onto her face.

Jamil paled. I don’t like where this is going…

“Then it is clear what we must do.”

“Yeah, it’s so obvious.”

They both turned to Jamil. The dread in his stomach spiked, hitting his peak, then sailed past it. He could feel his blood pressure shooting up too.

“We should bully him!”

#Jamil Viper #Azul Ashengrotto #Najma Vipet #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #NRC Family Day #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines

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lloydskywalkers · 22 hours ago

Text

drywall

went to go work on raising hell and ended up missing Skylor, so!! I will always have so many emotions about s8/9 and the aftermath of it, here's another gallon of them.

Two months after they’ve taken back the city and the street lights are finally starting to work again, Lloyd shows up at the restaurant an hour past closing time, sporting a spectacularly bruise and enough blood across his gi to make the Ninjago City Blood Drive team’s day.

“Hi, Sky.” Lloyd waltzes — or attempts to, it’s more of a stumbling collapse — right in as if nothing’s amiss in the slightest. “Sorry, I’m, uh. Was in the neighborhood and I wasn’ sure…where else t’ go.”

Skylor, still frozen over a stained tabletop with her dishtowel in hand, stares at him.

All things considered, she should be fully prepared for something like this. It should practically be in her restaurant’s training manual, that at some point you’ll end up confronted with a bloody, half-dead ninja in your door. But given how slow the past few weeks have been, coupled with the sheer exhaustion of dealing with the lunch rush and the dinner rush and the late-night somewhat-inebriated people rush, her guard is apparently down enough to leave her reacting with a simple, useless, “Oh god.”

“Tha’s my grandfather,” Lloyd says. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth — coupled with the bruising, Skylor thinks (hopes) it’s simply from split skin or a bitten cheek, instead of crippling internal bleeding.

Crippling internal bleeding is enough of a concern to finally spur her into action, dropping her towel and rushing over to help Lloyd finish stumbling through the door. She spares a moment of thanks, that there’s even a door at all — repairs in the city have been slow, since Harumi’s brief reign of terror, and the insurance provider is still holding out on her.

But the door was a good thing to prioritize, she thinks, bolting it firmly behind them.

“Sorry, again,” Lloyd murmurs. His jaw is working in the tight way it does when he’s biting back pain, his bottom lip bruised and bleeding. Skylor’s stomach twists.

You’d think, after all she’s been through, she’d be more accustomed to seeing the people she cares about in pain. That she’d be desensitized enough, to fight back the aching nausea and the gnawing desire to look away.

Or maybe she’s just a coward. That would track, she thinks.

“Shush,” she says instead, maneuvering Lloyd further into one of the nicer booths, careful of the blood that’s…everywhere. “What did you do to yourself this time, huh?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd grumbles, his voice steadier now that he’s sitting down. Unfortunately, he’s only paler under the yellowy restaurant lights, and the blood looks about ten times worse. “I just…slipped. A bit.”

Slipped. Skylor could smack him, if he wasn’t already hurt.

“Lemme see, then.” She bends down to where she can tug the folds of his gi back, trying to trace the blood to a source. She finally finds it — an ugly wound in his left shoulder, several long gashes across his forearm. A knife, maybe. Possibly a sword, but it looks close-up and quick. It’d need to have been quick, for whoever was wielding it to land this many hits.

Or Lloyd would have to be sloppy.

Lloyd gives a stifled, shuddery exhale, a dangerous preamble to tears. Skylor pauses, just for a moment, and deliberates.

She’s got Nya’s number, carefully keyed into her phone ever since she and Kai started visiting the noodle house. There’s no doubt in her mind that she’d want to know about this — and there’s less doubt that Kai would want to know. if anything, she’s surprised he hasn’t burst through the restaurant doors already, summoned by whatever sixth sense he has that goes off when Lloyd’s in danger.

But Skylor also knows there’s got to be a reason that Lloyd came here, despite his claims. Just as there’s probably a reason he didn’t call Kai or Nya, or any of the others.

And perhaps she feels just a little proud, that Lloyd’s chosen her to come to.

It’s quickly lost in the blood that coats her hands as she begins patching the wound in his shoulder, but the feeling’s there nonetheless.

It’s a nice feeling, being relied on. Being trusted.

“Who got you this bad?”

She speaks up mostly to break the quiet. Lloyd isn’t quite like Kai, who likes talking simply to fill a space, but she knows he isn’t fond of silence, either. It’s one of the things they share in common.

“No one.” Lloyd sucks in a breath as she draws the bandage tight across his shoulder, wrapping it beneath his arm and back over. His eyes close briefly as she ties it off, forehead scrunching up, before he lets out another shuddery exhale. “Some guy, uh — guy on the way home, near the subway. I had answered a call earlier, and I guess — ow, hey—”

“Sorry,” Skylor winces, as she finishes dumping antiseptic across the slashes on his arm. “It hurts less if you aren’t expecting it.”

“That’s a lie,” Lloyd says, pointedly.

She shrugs. “So, random subway mugger?”

Lloyd looks away, his cheeks darkening. It’s a relief, to see any color in his face at all. “Sort of.”

He leaves it at that, lapsing back into silence. Skylor looks down, focusing on the butterfly stitches she’s placing across his arm. Were it anyone else, she’d have panicked for actual stitches, but Lloyd heals with an uncanny quickness. She remembers Nya complaining about it, back during the Resistance — how Lloyd threw a fit when his skin healed over the stitches, and they’d had to cut him open all over again.

She’d probably throw a fit of her own, to be fair.

“Well, if you see him,” she says, reaching for the roll of bandages. “Point him out. I could use a punching bag.”

Lloyd’s lips quirk, a ghost of a smile.

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet enough she might’ve missed it, if they were any further apart. Skylor doesn’t miss the meaning, either. She simply shakes her head, wrapping another layer around his arm.

“I’m just glad you came to someone,” she says. “Instead of half-assing it yourself.”

Lloyd’s fingers twitch. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh-huh.”

She can’t pretend she doesn’t understand. Her childhood is filled with fun little memories of patching herself together, hiding wounds from Clouse or her father in an attempt to convince them she was better than she was.

Not that the people Lloyd is hiding from are anything remotely like her father, of course, but there’s an overlap between people you fear and people you love, and trying to convince them you’re stronger than you are.

“That should do it,” she nods to herself, surveying her work. She feels unusually proud of herself — Skylor’s never really stayed with a team long enough to have many chances to patch people up. It’s rarer that people are so open to her touching them, once they’ve learned what her power is. The ninja are an exceedingly kind exception, but it still makes her feel warm, being given this kind of trust.

She glances up, eyeing her patient. Lloyd’s still pale, but it’s far better than the ashy color from earlier anymore. “Anywhere else?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at the strip of bandages across his arms, shoulders hunched over on himself.

“I have Nya on speed dial, you know—”

“Its just a few scrapes,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Skylor sighs. “Lemme see.”

Lloyd grumbles, but he lets her grab his arm again, wincing as she dabs antiseptic over the smaller cuts. There’s nothing serious — just a few nicks and scratches, the kind you get from eating the ground mid-fight. He’s got one uglier scrape, but it’s about as nasty as a skinned knee, and easily eclipsed by the scar it bleeds through.

Her fingers falter. She knows this scar — she was there when Kai struggled to patch the wound it once was, back on her father’s island. It’s an ugly, jagged scar, a testament to how Kai’s hands had shook as he’d tried to be gentle.

In hindsight, it had been a terrible moment. Kai wasn’t sure if Lloyd had picked up the wound from the underground tunnels, Chen’s cultists, or his own brief slip into the madness of the staff. Lloyd wouldn’t say where it was from, even if either of them had been much for talking. And Skylor had been an awkward, purple-scaled fixture next to them, holding the medical kit while the others planned how to kill her father.

And yet, it was the lightest she’d ever felt.

Skylor bites her lip.

She’s never told Lloyd, what exactly he’d meant to her. He likely has no idea, what he’d represented when she’d first met him.

The son of one of Ninjago’s greatest villains — and people loved him.

Kai loved him.

If Lloyd could overcome the hurdle of his parentage and choose to live the way he wanted, if people could look past the dark stain of his legacy and love him anyways, then maybe—

He’d been hope, when she needed it most. And Kai had lived up to that hope, taking Skylor’s half-formed, frail dream and fueling it into a blaze.

Her eyes close, briefly, and she shivers.

“Are you okay?”

Blinking her eyes back open, she comes face to face with Lloyd’s concerned expression. She shakes her head, looking away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Embarrassment pulls at her. “Just a bit of…aftershocks. You know.”

Lloyd frowns, clearly not knowing. “Aftershocks,” he repeats. “From…”

His eyes go wide, only for his expression to immediately crumple. “Oh.”

Skylor waves her hands. “It’s not bad,” she reassures him. “I can barely feel him — his power — anymore. Just pins and needles in my hands sometimes, that’s all. Totally…totally normal.”

She hopes. Garmadon’s power had burned, in the way bitter cold feels against your skin, so a bit of numbness is pretty decent tradeoff, if she says so herself.

Lloyd looks down, expression shadowed and hidden. Skylor could curse herself — she knows better, than to bring up—

“Here.” Lloyd’s suddenly holding his hand out, looking at her earnestly. It’s an almost childish expression of sincerity, one that makes him look much younger — a little more like the Lloyd she met on her father’s island, who beamed when his father ruffled his hair.

Her chest aches fiercely, and Skylor holds out her hand before she can hesitate. Lloyd takes it carefully in his own, and she watches in fascination as the low shimmer of green engulfs her fingers. Lloyd’s power is as gentle as he is — nothing like the ravaging purple storm that was his father’s.

“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”

Lloyd makes a humming noise. “I’ve been practicing. H-his power doesn’t get along with mine, that much. So it kinda…makes room. For whoever’s stronger, at the moment.”

Skylor fights back a shudder. Realistically, she knows she shouldn’t feel ashamed, that Garmadon overpowered her — he’s Garmadon. The reminder of how his power felt still stings, though.

It’s a reassurance, that Lloyd’s power is stronger now. His element, if you can even call it that, is probably the one she’s the least familiar with — she’s never tried to copy Lloyd’s power. She isn’t entirely sure if she could, or if she should. Dipping into Garmadon’s power was dangerous enough. Skylor isn’t stupid enough to pretend she has the willpower to meddle with the power of the FSM’s family much more than that.

“It feels like cheating, kinda,” she finally says. “That fighting fuels his power. How are you supposed to fight back?”

Lloyd shrugs, letting her hand go. “You don’t. You get really good at dodging.”

Skylor leans forward, propping her chin up in her palms. “That’s stupid.”

“Well,” Lloyd’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. “That’s Garmadon, so.”

His expression immediately fractures, and Skylor can spot the battle in his eyes as he tries to grasp for composure. Her teeth worry at her lip.

She should really call Nya, now. Or try to track down Kai’s number. Or anyone else — it’s nearly two hours past closing, the kitchen’s still a mess, and Lloyd’s blood is all over her dishrags. Lloyd himself is hardly in better shape, the ghostly pale of his skin reminding her horribly of when she first saved them from the Sons of Garmadon, and Skylor is—

Not enough.

She ought to know that, by now.

But the fact still stands, that Lloyd came to her. A part of her clings to that, and another selfish, awful part of her, the part that festered on her father’s island for so many years, the part that still flinches beneath the weight of her last name — well.

Misery loves company, is probably the best way to put it.

“I should…I should probably get going,” Lloyd says, uncertainly. He doesn’t make any move to get up, though, still small and weary where he’s hunched up in her booth.

Skylor stares at him, and thinks of sitting for hours on the edge of her father’s island, staring at the sun on the water until her eyes ached.

“Hey,” she says, a bit breathless, twisting her fingers together. “Wanna go skip rocks?”

Quite fairly, Lloyd stares at her like she’s lost her mind.

They end up on the rickety end of one of Ninjago City’s abandoned docks anyways, a mismatched selection of somewhat flat rocks spilling out of a Chen’s to-go bag. Lloyd’s left arm is tied up in a mangled sort of sling they fashioned from Skylor’s old sweatshirt, leaving him to turn a rock over in his right hand awkwardly.

“So, funny thing,” he says. “I don’t, uh. I’m not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” Skylor says, sifting through the rocks they’ve gathered. “I’m not, either.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd sounds hopeful. “I mean, you at least know the trick to it, right?”

“I don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ve never…I’ve never skipped rocks before.”

Lloyd stares at her.

“It’s not that weird,” she huffs, fighting back the urge to hide. “I mean, I never really had the chance, but I aways thought — I grew up near the ocean, and all these lakes, so I always thought it’d be fun to, y’know, skip rocks, since I didn’t really have…anyone else, to…”

The rest of the sentence is about to turn even more humiliating, so it’s a relief when Lloyd interrupts her.

“I haven’t either.”

He immediately flushes. “That’s why I’m not good at it.’Cause I’ve never actually skipped rocks.”

“Oh.” Skylor looks at their bag, then back up at him. “Well, cool. We’ll both suck, then.”

“How hard can it be, anyways?” Lloyd says, sorting through their rocks. “You just find a flat one, right?”

“Yeah,” Skylor says. “Then you sort of just, frisbee it. I think.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t thrown a frisbee either, have you.”

“Oh, like you have.”

Skylor presses her lips together, snorting. “Was wondering when your snark was gonna show back up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not remember half the stuff that came out of your mouth, back at the tournament?”

“You would’ve been out of your mind too, if you had to herd the guys around then — also, bold words coming from you, ooh, how dare you call me a traitor, even though it’s totally dead-on—”

“That wasn’t even close to what I said, and also—” Skylor snatches a smooth rock before Lloyd can, hefting it up. “It’s not like I was gonna admit to you all I was a traitor. That defeats the whole purpose of betraying. Lying my way out of a corner was the smart choice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lloyd mutters, as Skylor flings her rock across the water.

They both watch as it splashes sadly, sinking instantly like, well. A rock.

“Okay,” Skylor cringes. “That was a warm-up.”

Several warm-ups later, neither of them have made any progress whatsoever, save to torment whatever fish are hanging out on this side of Ninjago City’s harbor with relentless rock barrages.

“This is ridiculous,” Lloyd huffs, watching as his rock all but torpedoes into the water. “What’s wrong with us, that we can’t get one stupid rock to skip?”

“Maybe it’s in the wrist?” Skylor flexes her hand, angling it one way then another. She winds ups, throws the rock out, and — nope.

“I think we’re getting worse,” Lloyd remarks as Skylor sputters, wiping the seawater that splashed up from her face.

She can’t help but agree. They’re down to a few rocks left, and neither of them have made any progress, much less skipped a single rock. At some point, they give up altogether, seeing who can throw their rock out the furthest instead.

“This one’s going…” Lloyd raises his arm, closing one eye and squinting as he angles higher. He finally pauses with his hand pointing upwards toward Ninjago City. “Right through that weird oval thing on Borg Tower.”

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Skylor says. “They just got it back up last week.”

“I’m not hitting it, it’s going through it, weren’t you listening?”

“To you? Nah. I’ve heard you suck at public speaking.”

“Wow, after you forced me into the live broadcast and everything—”

As if to emphasize his distress, Lloyd takes a running start, hurling the rock forward. They watch as it arcs across the skyline, before plummeting somewhere in the harbor.

“So close,” Skylor murmurs.

Lloyd flops on the ground with a dull thump, legs sprawling in front of him as he leans back on his elbows. Skylor’s makeshift sling isn’t doing much at all anymore, though it looks like he doesn’t need it to.

That, or he’s hiding pain stupidly well. Which wouldn’t be surprising, if disappointing.

“Defeated,” he mourns. “Overthrown by rocks.”

Skylor dusts gingerly at the ground before sitting next to him. “They sure got the best of us, this time.”

“Maybe it’s a learning curve,” he says. “That or we missed, like, the optimal rock-skipping development time.”

“Mmh. Maybe we need to recruit a teacher who actually had a decent childhood.”

“If you find someone, lemme know.”

They both laugh, breathless and hollow, because they’re not much else they can say, to that.

Lloyd sits up suddenly, pulling his knees to his chest. His arms wrap tightly around them, eyes glued forward. Instead of asking, Skylor follows his gaze to the skyline of Ninjago City, the darkened scars left behind by Garmadon and Harumi painfully pronounced this late at night.

It couldn’t have been longer than two weeks, could it? Their rule over the city?

It feels like years.

She can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for the others — can’t imagine what it was like, ending it.

It pains her, but Skylor doesn’t remember much of Garmadon’s defeat. She’d thrown everything she had into controlling his power, and when it had snapped back on her, ravaging through her like a cloying poison, everything had gone dark and hazy.

It kind of sucks, because she’d done all that just to miss the most important parts, but…it is what it is.

What she does remember, besides Nya’s steady voice and Dareth’s panicked yelling, is the blazing warmth that was Lloyd carrying her.

That and his painfully bony shoulder digging into her stomach.

“I was trying not to get us crushed,” Lloyd mutters, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry my shoulder wasn’t up to cushion-y standards.”

“And I’m trying to say thank you,” Skylor sighs. “But seriously. Put something on those bones.”

“Meh meh meh,” Lloyd mocks. There’s a lack of his usual energy in the action, the dullness to his eyes only made worse by the bruise-like circles beneath them. But it’s still very Lloyd — a flash of the friend she knows.

“I really do mean it,” she says. “Thank you. For carrying me out of there. For saving me.”

Lloyd stares at her with dark eyes. Not as dark as they were, back when he’d lost his power, but the glow is almost entirely absent.

“You shouldn’t—” he bites off, frustrated. He tosses the rock he’s holding, up and down. “It was never a question.”

He glances at her. “Besides,” and there’s the closest she’s seen to a real smile. “You saved us first.”

Not nearly soon enough, she thinks.

She should’ve told him, should have asked — should have let him know how it felt to watch her father fall deeper into madness, told him what it felt like to lose hope — what it meant, to move on.

To cut ties, before they strangled you.

“How are you,” she says, as gently as she can. Then, because gentle doesn’t always get you through the walls they build— “For real. Not how people want to hear you’re doing, or the answer you think they want. How are you.”

Lloyd stiffens. There’s a flicker of fear in his expression, his mouth moving on instinct.

“I’m doing okay.”

Tremors lace through his hand where he holds the rock, shuddering fingers tracing over the rough surface.

“Okay as I can be.” He looks down, the rock slipping from his fingers as his arms wrap around himself. “I know that isn’t the answer you want, but I don’t…”

He looks back up, the lights of Ninjago City misty in his eyes.

“I don’t know what people want me to say,” he whispers.

Skylor wishes he’d screamed it. Wishes he’d snap, wishes he’d find the anger where it simmers inside him and turn it outwards against the world, rather than violently projecting it inwards like a masochistic missile all the time. Anything at all, instead of this hollow brokenness.

It reminds Skylor a bit too much of—

Well.

“I know I — things are—” Lloyd swallows. He pauses, raising his hand to scrub at an already-bloodshot eye. “Everything happened so fast. It was like — like getting hit with a bus, then another bus, then she — put the bus in reverse and ran me back over, and I never really had the chance to…to…”

“To get back up?”

Lloyd nods. He picks absently at a bloodstained patch on the leg of his gi. “And I know that’s just a stupid metaphor, but getting back up is…it’s really—”

Lloyd’s pulling threads loose now, tugging hard enough that he’s likely to start unraveling holes in his gi.

“Can I tell you something? Something that’s not…not so good.”

“Hey, you know me.” Skylor elbows him. “I’m an expert at not-good.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a little too knowing. “You’re really not.”

And she’d turn a mirror on him, if she could. “What is it, then?”

Lloyd looks away, one unusually-sharp tooth gnawing at his lip.

“I know my dad — my dad I used to have — he loved me. I know he did.” Lloyd sounds, rather devastatingly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But now that he’s…now that he’s like this, and after everything that happened, I almost wish — I almost—”

He cuts off, covering his face with his hands. “Never mind.”

Skylor stays still, her gaze fixed ahead on a dark spot in the city skyline. If it were her, she’d want—

Lloyd’s voice is a muffled whisper. “I wish he’d never loved me at all.”

Skylor lets out a long, shaky breath.

Lloyd gives a dry, horrible kind of laugh. “That’s terrible, isn’t it? It’s so selfish, it’s — I’m a horrible person, for thinking that way. But it — it hurts now, to think that — that maybe, now that I’m different — and her — that even my dad—”

“It hurts,” she murmurs. “To lose it. To think that it’s your fault.”

Lloyd brings his arms over his head, the bandages on his left arm a stark white in the dimness as he buries his face in his knees. Curling up, as if he can make himself small enough the world will finally forget he exists.

Skylor’s…familiar.

But then again, is she?

She swallows. Her father was one thing, but if — if he came back now, after she’s worked so hard to move on — at the height of his madness, what would she do?

She’s out of her depth, as she’s always been.

But there was a reason she answered the call so fervently, a reason she followed Lloyd without hesitation. Skylor doesn’t put much stock in the Green Ninja, doesn’t put much in any kind of prophecy. But she does care, very much, about Lloyd, and she thinks that’ll take her a bit farther.

“You know.” She looks down, running her finger over their last rock. “You were one of the first people that gave me any hope that I could change. That, uh, someone could love me.”

Lloyd startles, emerging just enough that she can see the green of an eye. “Huh? Me?”

She nods. “Back on my father’s island, during the tournament. I was convinced that…that after everything I’d done, with who I was, there wasn’t a chance I’d find someone who loved me.”

Lloyd frowns, lowering his arms so he can look at her fully. “But I didn’t — Kai was the one who reached out to you. He was the one that saw you. I didn’t…I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah. He did. But he reached out to you, first.”

Lloyd stares at her, eyes wide. Skylor smiles at him. “You were good. No matter how bad your family had been. And it…it had been okay, for you.”

The mistiness returns to Lloyd’s eyes as he looks back to the skyline, his lip caught tightly between his teeth.

“We’re doing okay, right?” Skylor pulls her own knees up to her chest. “You and me. I mean, we helped, a lot. We fought back for the city. You did a lot more than me, obviously, but—”

“Don’t say that,” Lloyd sounds pained. “Don’t compare it, like I’m — I do a lot more harm than good, sometimes.”

“You don’t say that,” Skylor snaps.

Lloyd flinches. She bows her head, staring down at her feet.

“We’re good,” she says, hating the way her voice wobbles. “We’re different.”

It’s occurring to her, how cold it is out here on the water. She hopes Lloyd doesn’t get home with a cold, on top of everything else.

“We’re different,” Lloyd echoes.

“Yeah.” Skylor swallows. “That has to count for something, right?”

Lloyd makes a small noise, but it isn’t one of disagreement. There’s a rustling as he reaches for the bag, then holds out their final, sad rock.

“Wanna give it the last try?” He gives her a crooked, half smile. “Make it count?”

Her fingers close over the rough surface, cold against the warmth of his hand.

The brightness of the sun against water on her father’s island in her eyes, Skylor flings the rock as hard as she can, far enough that it’s swallowed entirely by the harbor darkness.

If she tries, she can imagine it skipping, just once, across the freezing waters.

She tells herself, it counts anyways.

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #skylor chen #my fic #skylor come back i miss u sm...please skylor...#anyways this was the result. of too much paris paloma.#lloyd should get to be more messed up after sog i think. that's all

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screamingcrows · 2 days ago

Text

Winner of the first Zandicktober poll ^^ Notes: Omega's fashion choices stem from Dottore's youth. Tags: Dottore x reader, nothing explicit in this one, 1k words

Foliage crumbling should have drawn his attention, all instinct screaming for his neck to twist and eyes to search. Predators were abundant. It might have been foolhardy to leave the confines of Sumeru city armed with nothing but a dagger, and he suspected you were even worse off, dressed for getting a cup of coffee and not searching for a rumored wooden archway inscribed with faintly glowing runes.

Ideally, Zandik would have gone by himself, but you'd been persistent, and frankly, with all the trouble the Sages had been giving him as of late, arguing with you was far beneath him. In an effort to get your attention, Zandik kicked at a few loose stones littering the trodden path, listening intently to their clattering and thuds as a few fell off the ledge and into the mud below.

"Left at the next split, I won't come back to find you."

Bark cracking and ripping caught his attention, fighting the urge to whip around for less than a second before succumbing, fingers already pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to take all day with you.

Normally, you would bounce around between oddities, picking up a rock here, taking a few leaves there, seeing a beetle, making a note, listening to birds, you were all over the place. But somehow, you managed to be even worse today. Either that, or Zandik's lack of sleep looking through old legends in the House of Daena was catching up. Your gasps of wonder were annoying all the same.

Today had been different. It felt like you'd been deliberately staying out of sight, skirting the periphery of his vision at best and calling his name loudly when you'd lost track of his movements at worst.

"Six times," Zandik held his breath, waiting for your eyes to meet his, "that's the number of instances where you've gotten lost today."

It was awful how you cocked your head like an innocent puppy, perhaps not innocent, but one who didn't know better at least. When a gust of wind had passed, shaking a few nuts loose, three of which you promptly collected, Zandik realized with great dismay that you weren't going to say anything.

Utterly insufferable. If you weren't the only person willing to assist him without asking too many questions, he would've rid himself of your presence long ago.

"It's a beautiful day is it not?" How you could still manage to smile was perhaps a more frustrating conundrum than the fairy tale creatures supposedly inhabiting the northern parts. "It'd be a shame not to enjoy it."

For a moment, Zandik swore he saw red, patience all but decayed, "It would be a shame to waste daylight!" He'd all but screamed, so how were you still smiling? "But of course, someone as moronic and dispensable wouldn't understand the concept of wastefulness!"

It took some effort, feeling seconds away from his teeth snapping under the force of his bite, to refrain from letting his gaze wander towards the rustle that drew your attention. You deserved both the unease of the wilds and the full weight of his gaze, one an acclaimed terror among the Akademiya's students.

Predators were abundant, yes, but they were shy, they'd learned what humans were capable of, especially in groups.

Mere seconds of his thoughts wandering and Zandik stumbled backwards. How you'd gotten close enough that he could feel your breath ghost along his cheeks was a mystery.

It was too difficult, his own lips pulling back in a sneer at the sight of your tongue wetting yours.

As fresh dew, your voice was crisp, "You're that mad? What about the whole charade of 'being responsible for myself' you gave me," Zandik felt heat rise, pushing down the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt when you continued' "are you really so worried about me?"

He'd snapped out a 'no' before his heel could even hit the ground, making sure to invade your space. How dare you challenge a finality with such conviction? Either the air was particularly humid today or Zandik would have to admit the truth of your words to himself.

Reluctantly, he'd admired your blatant disregard for established dogmas from the moment you first sought him out, but used against a cornerstone of his perceived self?

"-use this," despite the earnest smile on your lips, Zandik recognized the smug satisfaction lurking just beneath the surface.

Mercenaries had been active on the paths not far from there, screaming would most likely alert them, meaning Zandik had to instead bite down hard on his tongue and pray the frustration boiling in his blood would settle quick. This had all been planned, and he hadn't noticed.

Another pebble was kicked down the ledge, visualizing your head in its place. Too busy navigating the terrain, keeping you in check, and watching for dangers, he'd missed the greatest of them all directly in front of him. Poisoned fangs behind upturned lips, hypnotizing eyes under thick lashes, and an outstretched hand, wholly bereft of claws.

Instead, a piece of leather lay in your palm, offered up as sweet bait to lure him close enough for the kill. A hellish, carnivorous plant was what you were.

This was enough, he decided, coating his words in venom as he smacked the leash away, "Do you think this is funny? Do you even think?" A satisfied huff left him, pleased by the sight of you kneeling down.

Some of your amusement faded as you picked it up and wiped off the mud. "Loosen up at bit, will you?"

"Loosen up?" It was stupid, Zandik knew it was, but it didn't stop his voice from raising, "You are being insufferable, I have half a mind to-"

The forest held its breath, eerily quiet while Zandik's eyes widened, heat rising to his cheeks with the brush of your fingers against his skin. Swallowing was difficult with how tight the collar looked around your neck, imagining it pressing against his own instead.

"Half a mind to what?" Your near purring voice wasn't helping the situation either.

Zandik briefly caught himself glancing down at how your fingers wrapped around the leather, trying desperately to get the imagery of you tugging at it out of his mind.

He took it with a still hand, forcing himself not to follow the leash to where it connected securely to the collar around your neck.

"Aren't you happy? No more getting angry because I wander off."

#i'm so fucking out of practice writing for dottore (writing in general actually)#I know this is uh... not what anyone was expecting (since you're probably expecting hard nsfw) but this is what you get #at least for this one #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore x you #zandik x reader #il dottore x you #crow with a pen #zandik x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfic #il dottore #dottore #zandik #fatui x reader

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pinkiemachine · 2 days ago

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What are some timsteph headcanons you have? And what couples or ships u like outside of dc remind u of them?

That she’s really clingy and her love language is physical touch. Like, she’s always coming to him wanting a hug, or to hold his arm, or snuggle up next to him, just burry her face in his hoodie… but she can be a bit oblivious about the fact that she can be a biiiiit… intrusive at times. If Tim is busy with something, she might not recognise it and just come on in, trying to talk to him, and then Tim gets frustrated that she’s not reading the room, and has to remind her that sometimes he has things to do and can’t get distracted. She usually makes up for it by doing something nice for him later when he has more free time.

Tim can be a bit oblivious about her emotions sometimes, so every now and then he makes an oopsie in the form of accidentally neglecting her emotional needs—usually by working on a case too long and not realising she needs time with him—and then has to go make up for it. His love language is personal time, and he just enjoys being in the same room as Steph. They don’t even have to be doing anything, just cuddling on the couch is enough. Or sitting in the Batcave on their phones. Talking late into the night.

She definitely loves the fact that her bf is loaded with cash and Tim loves to spoil her. Not in overly fancy dinners to french restaurants or Louis Vuittons, but in trips to places she’s never been before, going on hikes through the Italian countryside, bungie jumping in New Zealand, or boating on the Nile.

They both geek out, but over different things and in slightly different ways, and they happily listen to the other ramble on about the thing they’re excited about currently. For Tim it’s usually some random information rabbit hole he’s stumbled down—like the history of Roman gladiator food, or medieval cutlery. For Steph it can be literally anything. A cute dog she found that she wants to adopt, why do superheroes wear the undies on the outside of their uniforms? Damascus steel forging, a new TikTok trend, a new tv show she’s just gotten into, interior home renovation and DIY stuff, knitting… waffles…

Tim struggles with depression. It’s not surprising. A study done once showed that intelligent people are often more likely to be depressed (perhaps there’s something to being “blissfully ignorant”) but in Tim’s case, there’s also the trauma of having to go through everything he’s gone through as a vigilante. Because of his depression, it can make it difficult to find the will to want to hang out with people, or go do things outside of work. That’s where Steph comes in. She’s hurt too, but remains stubbornly optimistic. She’s able to talk with Tim about things they can’t talk about with anyone else, and she helps him get out and do things, talk to people, see the sun every once in a while. She is his sunshine. Literally. She makes him happy. And for Steph, she can sometimes have a hard time living in reality. Because of her trauma, she tends to fall into escapism to cope. She can day dream for hours if left to her own devices, and often romanticises things or doesn’t take them seriously. That’s where Tim comes in. When she’s getting too carried away or not acknowledging a situation like she should, he brings her back down to ground level and helps her through it. Facing reality is easier with him, she’s found out. ❤️💜

#dc #dc comics #batman #timsteph

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hiraethwa · 2 days ago

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one summer day

18 hiraeth. where everything has changed.

<< 17 light. | >> 19 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 3.6k warnings: alcohol, forced interaction

"the love was there. it didn't change anything. it didn't save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there." (source)

the ocean calls to you, whispering of the bittersweet past as you and semi barreled towards your old apartment complex on the train shortly after arriving at haneda airport.

you close your eyes, centering yourself, trying your damned hardest to not be swayed by the ocean, this train line, the carriage itself, the familiar scenery flying past you, everything.

the ocean sings of a song long forgotten—a song of a flightless bird taking flight on man made wings. of the song you had desperately tried to forget, its score long since burned to ashes.

she calls to you to visit her lonely shores, to lay your eyes on the treasures she keeps in her depths, gleaming in the dark, waiting for their master to claim them again.

stop. you tell her, there is a reason you built your home atop a cliff, never laying a foot on her sandy beaches again. semi tugs at your sleeve as a female voice announces your stop.

the ocean has a mind of her own, and she is determined for you to sink your toes into her warm waters again. i have always been here.

now is not the time. you turn your attention away from her to focus on the male before you, your arm tightly laced through semi’s, as reality settles in.

ushijima wakatoshi stands before you, the expression on his hauntingly handsome face a familiar sight. one that you wish to never lay your eyes upon for the rest of your life after semi confirmed what you were told.

don’t ever mention him again, you had told semi after that conversation five years ago.

and now, the source of your heartache stands before you, a faint smile on his lips, as though nothing has changed in the years that you were gone. everything has changed.

you curse at her internally for distracting you.

it has been five years. five years since you left without a word. you thought you are long over him, that all he is now is someone from your past, but there he is, just as beautiful as you remembered. traitorous mind.

there he is, looking as fine as the day he cleaved your heart apart. how could he?

the ocean quiets.

something in your chest pangs in remembrance, like an old injury aching just before the storm rolls through, recognising the person who your heart used to call home. you dig your nails into your palms to resist clutching at your chest.

five years. all the pain and the healing, the breaking and the mending. it will not come undone at the mere sight of ushijima, you remind your heart.

five year is enough. more than.

it has to be.

but then he opens his mouth, a mere hello, the sweet curve of his lips that was seared into the fiber of your being, even if he was only yours for one night, and the precarious image of control you had shatters into a million pieces.

your anger bursts into life, hot flames shrouding you in its defensive embrace.

it is all you could do to mutter one back, chest heaving with strained breathing, turning to stare a hole into the side of semi’s head, opting to stand in awkward silence rather than speak any further.

perhaps you should have taken your chance on the streets, or at a cheap motel. you should never have agreed to this, or let semi convince you that it would be alright to stay with ushijima at your old apartment—the rented two bedroom apartment that he still lived in.

you had not known what to do with the information when semi sprung it on you, and so he got his way with this ridiculous closure project of his. foolish, this whole thing. it has been five years, what is there left to move on from?

semi takes charge moving your suitcase into your old bedroom, still untouched from the way you left it, not a speck of dust. you shove that piece of observation deep behind some forgotten memory, shushing the ocean that tries to protest.

you opt to walk behind them on the way to dinner, where tendo will be joining you, your high school group all conveniently in tokyo at the same time. the two of them chatted back and forth, so unlike your memories where semi or tendo used to carry the conversation when it comes to ushijima who usually has little to say.

had, you correct yourself. the man strolling in front of you is holding his own, no longer the boy you knew. your brain notes the broadness in his shoulders, the extra inches he grew, his well defined muscles straining against the turtleneck he has on.

you almost wish for him to be angry at you for leaving without a goodbye. because then it would mean that you were in the wrong. that you got it all wrong.

it is wishful thinking—dangerous territory. the ocean croons at you.

at least semi is kind enough to let you choose your seat in the crowded katsu restaurant—next to ushijima or tendo, which is an easy choice.

dinner passes uneventfully with tendo recounting his wild adventures in paris, especially the ones that involved you at a time when you lived life a little too recklessly.

you try not to stare at ushijima’s empty ring finger, or semi’s answer a few weeks earlier when you remembered to ask after his wife to get out of his stupid plan of staying with ushijima. don’t worry about it, he had said.

you didn’t know what to make of it then. you still don’t know what to make of it now.

when the classic ‘leave them alone so they can talk’ happens, you see it coming from a mile away.

semi leaves first to get the check, instantaneously followed by tendo excusing himself to the bathroom. you send a hard glare at semi as he gets up to leave, which he responds to with a look in ushijima’s direction—you said you are over him, right?

right. you deflate in your seat as your friends make their escape.

you worry your lip, eyes darting behind ushijima towards the counter, to the waiter walking by your table, giving them a nervous smile, to the textured ceiling and back to the counter where semi is—where did he go?

your feet tap on the ground at a high tempo, fast enough to keep your mind occupied and away from things you should not think about as you scan the restaurant, eyes coming to a stop at a booth with two very familiar figures and two other people chatting and laughing. tendo and semi—and kai.

traitors. did they plan this?

you whip your head back towards ushijima for a short second, before forcing your gaze to fall to the table.

“you haven’t spoken a word to me since you said hello—”

“don’t, ushijima. don’t pretend like everything is alright.” you clench your fist under the table, desperately trying to salvage the nonchalance you mustered.

“can i explain—”

“no.” you inhale sharply. this is all a very, very bad idea.

“please give me a chance to explain my side of—”

“that’s enough.” you say quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time. “you never gave us a chance.

“i only wanted to protect you.” he looks pained, as if you are twisting the dagger piercing his chest.

“it seems that you are the one i needed protecting from,” the words come out in your voice, so detached and void of emotion that you barely recognise it. his presence drags a sharp-tipped blade over the scars on your heart, picking at the fraying thin threads holding it together with every word.

“i’m sorry.” he drops his eyes, falling silent.

you look away as well, tracking your friends who are coming back your way, knowing them well enough that they would drag you both to dessert.

you glance back at him, the organ in your chest bleeding red with liquid that it's supposed to pump away from itself through your body, standing up quickly and turning to leave, your chair shrieking against the tiles, and you lie.

”i don’t care.”

—-------------

the wind is cold against your face, harsh enough to whip your hair around and make you shiver, but not enough for you to feel numb—the way you feel inside now that you distanced yourself from the situation.

you had plundered his fridge, choosing a good bottle of sake, surprised to even find alcohol in the apartment since he does not drink, before planting yourself on the balcony, sitting with your knees to your chest on the freezing tiles.

home. the word had slipped out of you accidentally while referring to this apartment.

“i am going home,” you had responded in your haze of fury when ushijima asked where you were going, realizing your mistake twenty minutes too late, the understanding settling in as you stepped foot on the westbound train.

his eyes had snapped to yours with that look, as he shoved the keys into your hand and closed your fingers around them before backtracking to the restaurant, letting you go as you wished.

it was because you called this place home.

your mistake has played on loop in your mind since then, and sleep feels as far away as the safe havens of paris tonight.

tonight, you have two choices—stay up all night staring at the stupid glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling in your bedroom while being tortured by your memories or drink yourself into oblivion. the latter feels like a less painful choice.

you keep forgetting that it also makes your mind painfully clear and your inhibitions non-existent—that was how you got tendo to do all the dubious shit you got into together in paris.

it seems that ushijima also realizes that, knowing that this is his one chance to talk to you without you walking out on him. he is absolutely right.

he slides the balcony door closed behind him, standing next to you silently, waiting for something.

you speak first this time, annoyed and emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your system. “here to plead your case again?”

you raise your head to peer at his tall figure in the dim light, an eyebrow arched, your guard thrown to the winds rushing between you.

he shakes his head, “not if you don’t want to hear it.”

“and you’re not going to try to make me for the rest of the time that semi stuck me here for?”

“i didn’t know.”

“didn’t know?” you parrot after him, “didn’t know what?”

“i was under the impression that you wanted to stay here. i didn’t know that he was forcing you to do it. if i had known, i would not have agreed to it.”

semi tricked the both of you? the bastard.

“you would not have agreed to it?”

he nods, brows furrowed, hesitating on his next words. “i– i booked a room under your name at a hotel in shinjuku, a few blocks away from tokyo opera city, if you wish to stay there for the duration you are here instead.”

you falter, setting down the half empty bottle of sake and the cup in your hand, caught surprised by his words. “you didn’t have to.”

“i know.” silence falls over you both. “you should go, while it’s not too late. i can call a cab for you.”

you sigh through your nose, throwing your head back against the glass doors, looking up at the dark skies for some sign on what you should do next—if your change of heart to hear him out is a bad idea for your own wellbeing.

is this what semi wanted? for him to be so him and for you to soften at his gestures? no… tendo.

you drop your head onto your arms, squeezing your eyes shut, uncertain whether you should follow your instincts.

“sit down.” you mumble into your skin a few moments later.

ushijima looks at you in surprise, unsure if he heard wrong but then you say it again, head raised, your eyes meeting his. he obeys, careful not to intrude on your space.

you swallow, blood thrumming through your veins at the unexpected change in the course of your actions. “i can’t sleep anyway, so,” you shrug your shoulders, pouring sake into the small cup and lifting it to your lips, sipping.

you really hope you don’t regret your next words. “what did you want to tell me?”

you look away from the visible perk in the tilt of his eyes, the corner of his lips, the tightness coiled in his shoulders loosening just slightly.

he still reads like an open book to you—you wonder if you are the same.

if after all this time that passed, you still remember the language between you.

“my mother told you about the– the arrangement. how much do you know?”

you don't need to dig into your memories, you hear them frequently enough. “the week i left. that was also the week you went back to miyagi for your family gathering. she said it was for your engagement ceremony.” you lied to me.

hearing your own voice say that out loud, separated by distance and time from the rawness of your heartbreak, it sounds ridiculous. you left, not a single confirmation from ushijima on the supposed ceremony that you heard from his mother, who is practically a stranger to you.

you left based on nothing but words of a stranger.

what does that say about you? you blink at the empty cup in your numb fingers.

“yes, that is right, but i did not know that the yuino was happening then until i went back.” i did not lie to you about it being a family gathering.

you pour more sake into the cup.

“my mother hated how much volleyball reminded her of my father, so i made a promise to her at the end of junior high. in exchange for focusing on volleyball through high school and pursuing it professionally after, i agreed to having an arranged marriage. she wanted me to have a stable marriage unlike her own, and at the time, i haven’t met you yet. i didn’t care for love, and i thought she knew best.”

is that what all this is about? always too late. to grow old with the boy you fell in love with.

to save your sister.

“i wanted to call it off. i tried to, but she threatened me with you, with your future. and i could not gamble with that. i thought it was best for you that i keep my distance, protect you from her, but that night, on my birthday—” he chokes on the memory.

it brings up a well of emotions within you as well. you are no stranger to it—every touch, every kiss seared into your skin, every image of him burned into the back of your eyelids—the deep pools of warmth within his eyes, the softness of his cheeks beneath your thumb, the strength of his arms wrapped around you.

you had wanted to drown in him forever.

but that was five years ago, and everything has changed since then.

“i should not have done it. i gave in to my impulses and i ended up hurting us both far more because of it.” he stares at his tightly clasped hands in his lap, knuckles white with force, shaking almost imperceptibly.

“do you regret it?” a quiet question.

“no, i don’t. i am the worst, am i not? i keep taking from you, and i can’t find it in myself to regret it. i only regret that it was the only time we shared together without trying to hide our feelings. if that was always the end, i should have asked you out from the start, then we would have had at least a year together. more.” he looks over at you. “i regret not having more time with you.”

“you should have told me, i would have understood.”

“and you would have fought for me like you did in high school without any care for yourself. and you would have been stuck here, and hated your life. i could not bear it, if you gave up music for me.”

you keep quiet, knowing he is right, that he knew you better than yourself.

“i am an idiot for trusting my mother. i found out that week when i went home that she had messed with your future even though she promised me that she would leave you alone. you did get into the university of tokyo, but she used her connections to have admissions reject you.”

“to get me away from you.”

“yes. she broke our agreement, so i cancelled the ceremony, and everything else. the girl i was supposed to marry didn’t care either way, but my mother was still insistent on it, still dangling you and paris to keep me in line. i was so angry, at her, at my grandparents, mostly at myself for not fighting harder for us that i called her bluff. i wasn’t sure if her threats were empty, but i was so angry that i didn’t think it through.” he pauses, eyes scanning over you.

“and then tendo’s phone call came that you were leaving. you were leaving without any word, any goodbye to paris on a one way ticket and i panicked. i told my mother that if she touched you again, she can forget she ever had a son, and i got on the first shinkansen back to tokyo, but i was too late. you were gone.”

“were they real? her threats?”

“i don’t know, i didn’t care as long as nothing happened to you. semi never shared any details of your life in paris, what you were up to or when you are coming back, he would only tell me if you were doing fine. i accepted your decision, that you didn’t want anything to do with me, but then you were coming back, and when semi said that you wanted to stay here temporarily…” he shrugs, “how could i say no?”

you fall silent, blinking, eyes moving over the tokyo skyline aimlessly as you turn over his words in your mind, the churning depths in the ocean within you calm for the first time in years, the rough peaks of water smoothing over, crashing onto the sand like a soft lullaby.

this is what your friend hoped for when he forced you into the arrangement, for closure to the wounds that had scarred over on the outside, leaving the insides to fester and rot quietly.

you had been so stubborn.

the love was real. you hadn’t imagined that. a breath of relief shudders out of you, all the fight in your body leaving you with it, suddenly acutely aware of the chill that had settled in your bones.

the thing between you, it was real. the knowledge unravels a knot all tangled within your chest, every breath that comes after becoming lighter with it.

it was real, and yet it was not enough to change your fates. the universe had brought you together, but there were too many forces against it, you and him included.

there was too much lost in the years between you. too much, but… the ocean stills, wavers for a split second before resuming its gentle lapping at the shoreline. she agrees, albeit reluctantly.

the fingers wrapped around your arms are pale with force as though they could turn back time and undo everything that had gone wrong if you squeezed hard enough.

“if there’s anything more you want to know, anything…” he starts after a long pause, trailing off as he remembers the weight of the knowledge he just shared.

“i know. maybe another day.” there are many questions at the tip of your tongue, but it would be wise to hold off for another time when your mind is clearer, not tired and wishing for a warm bed after a fourteen hour flight. the sake in your system has long since cleared, sleep sweeping in with welcoming arms at the lightness in your shoulders.

“i am not asking for forgiveness or understanding,” he hesitates, unsure if his next words would push you even further away. as if his next words could push you even further away. “i only hope that when you look back at the time we shared, it is not with hate, but with fondness.”

“i know.” he also knows that there is too much between you for there to be any hope for something more. you wonder why your heart clenches at the mutual understanding when you know it is for the better—wonder whether he feels it too. “it’s getting late, i should go.”

“of course. let me call a cab for you.”

you wave him off. “i’ll be fine. how do you think i survived paris?”

“i was hoping you didn’t make a habit of getting drunk and trying to find your own way home, you used to hate alcohol.” the corners of his lips quirk, as if teasing you.

he still reads like an open book, but you don’t know what to expect from him anymore. you wonder if you could still recognize him from touch alone, identify him from the feel of his strength under your fingertips calloused from years of playing. probably not.

you used to.

then again, you are not sure if you still recognize the man in front of you. there is enough between you to remind you of the lost years—of the time and experiences that have changed and shaped you, unknown to the other.

you laugh softly, sadly, “we are no longer the same people we used to be.”

a/n: tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenbraveakira @whosmarjj @nansfyy @illuzminate @httpshoyo @manyuyuu @hatsukeii @bakery-anon

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sideysvault · 3 days ago

Text

𓍼ོ Ad Astra Per Aspera 𓍼ོ (PT. 1)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

wc: 2,200k

Tags: [sfw] Arranged marriage, mature themes, angst, coldness, enemies to lovers, eventual fluff and smut.

Full Series masterlist here.

────────

“Are you disappointed with the results of the arrangement?” Still not very well versed on the frail subtleties needed for a cordial marriage, the woman frowned. It if sounded sincere, she might have answered honestly. Because even her, when she was a child, had dreamt of romantic affections, great tales of familial love, mutual servitude and joy.

But the Prince’s voice told a tale of practiced self deprecation. She wasn’t yet sure if it was to appear disarmingly inadequate, easier to ignore, or if it was to appease the King’s fragile ego. Either way, acting was not one of the Prince’s best qualities. Underneath all the loathing, layed a poorly covered, insidious egotism. He felt pride in fulfilling his inglorious role, pride of being an outcast, he clearly thought of himself as above it all: superstitions of the weak minded, sentimentality, the passionate side of politics. She could already feel herself getting sick of it all.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but you must not go beyond the walls of the Red Keep often” Although she knew he did, as the stories of the sad little boy he turned to when attending the brothel could be heard from the mouth of the King himself. “The Gods are rarely in the mood for protection, and so common men are never left whole. The queerest thing about your appearance is not your limb eye, but rather your ghostly hair” with a smirk forming without her being able to avoid it, she quickly added “A haunting omen, perhaps.”

Aemond hated the petulant smile that appeared on his wife’s lips. He hated seeing her biting teeth, and her self proclaimed waking martyrdom. And the wisdomless lectures? A sickening symptom of barbarian vanity. The Prince felt scandalized. He considered himself a sensible person, able to rationalize the marital arrangement, a paragon of respectability and patience. Her attitude had a way of putting it all on a thin veil.

She felt troubled by the marriage, yes, but at night, when she could see the maidens avoid the wing of the castle where the King rested, when the Maestres ran around with mysterious teas, she felt the urge to get on her knees and thank the lords for granting her the repressed brother. Boring, tedious, and insolently over confident. But much more honorable.

They had to consummate the marriage, of course. That was a problem that was increasingly harder to ignore. He had been kind enough to not force it upon her, and the Princess had heard stories of insemination without touch. When the bride was to be young of age, the husband —If he was respectable enough to have a soul—would set his seed on a vase of sorts, which would be introduced into the girl manually, by a maiden of choice. She heard it was rarely successful, but protective parents could demand the practice.

She was too old for those considerations, but what was one to do?

Prince Aemond was handsome, painfully so. If you ignored his impatience for the incompetence of his brother, or for his mother's hidden sentimentalism, his horror towards failure, the frowns he gave at any suggestion of true romantic felicity, and the egomaniac tendencies, he could look quite handsome.

During courtship, he completely ignored his wife to be, but that is to be expected in political betrothal. Back then, he slightly frightened the Princess, but not nearly enough as everyone assumes he should have.

The residents of Kings Landing often find him rather physically odd. Why is that? If, after all, he looks like a proper Targaryen Prince, even with one functioning eye. His childhood wound could not deny his straight silver hair, or the blue in his calculating eyes. His features were delicate, sharp, and firm, with an obnoxious royal quality. And if she knew no better, she would be excited at the prospect of consummation.

Now the Princess’s dreams did not consist of domestic life —Although, she naturally still felt the urge, on rare occasions— But of going beyond the realms of her condition. A mind that kept itself occupied with thoughts of what may have become of her with less social opposition and more personal stimulus. Dreaming of being born a man, of being a scholar, a Maestre, to finally visit The Citadel.

Another recurring hope was that even in between the most interrelated webs of inherited resentments and southeastern superstitions one may find peace and harmony. To make the Red Keep a home worth living in. But all of these desires seemed to be equally improbable, and she had begun to come to terms with the fact that the burning desire of childhood may never go away, but it must be ignored in order to survive.

Learning to her was similar to a holy grace, far more powerful than any priest or God. A beautiful distraction. That’s how she had fallen into the hands of a false religious conversion. The teachings of the Seven had no real impact or meaning to her, but it was the closest, most respectable way of learning about the world around her.

The marital chambers were spotless, in an almost obsessive manner. It went far beyond the traditional efficiency of cleaning servants. It had been done by his own hand, and everything had a designated place. And at the beginning, it had been nerve wrecking. The constant worry of leaving everything in its place, of being too messy with her presence, with her own belongings, on her own chambers.

The only thing that demanded attention in the sad sterile room was the extensive library. It filled the space with character of its own, the books rebelling against their masters' particularities and demanding a disorderly presence of their own right. His private library exploited the fragility of her wife’s curious mind and predisposition for literature.

After years of espiritual resignation, it was like a breeze of fresh air. She would be the first to admit the only sin she had committed against her husband —Besides being a republican, which was a shameful secret of hers—: To sneak and borrow books from his private delectable collection. A stupid, brash decision. Especially considering Aemond's serious disposition and angsty, hostile character. But the Princess couldn't help herself when she saw the chambers unattended. Rationalizing the invasion of privacy, because they were now married, for better or for worse, those books were inside their marital chambers.

Prince Aemond knew of his wife’s intrusion, of course. When she came back to return the innocent theft, she realized with horror that he had left a single stone where the book she had taken was. Feeling partially offended by the gesture, she had returned the volume to its place and accommodated the fatal stone on the left side of his bureau, near the candle.

It became a routine. The wife would take a book from his collection, and he would place the rock marking the missing spot. Whenever she finished her reading, she was to accommodate the stone at the left of the candle in his bureau. A childish game, perhaps. But it was the most similar thing they had to a sense of cordiality and shared duality. Everything else remained as sterile as before, when either party tried to approach the other, they were quickly reminded of how repelled they felt towards the others flaws, perceived or not.

It did exhaust her a good deal, the uncertainty of the marriage. Having to be sly and poise about how she managed herself, or to be met with heavy words of disapproval. Targaryen folk, seemingly closer to Gods than to men, were not to be played with, even if you were a wife to one of them.

Another cause of exhaustion and histeria was one much more primal. She dreaded the day he finally came to claim his bride's virtue. It was not about discomfort with marital relations, but rather a feeling of vulnerability. Having to be at his mercy, his whim, it was the fact that she hadto wait until the night his patient character faltered.

There was also the matter of Larys Strong, of course. The King was like a brute, to focused on his next rush to have any sense of planning or concerned for the politics of consummation. The Dowager Queen was the one who pushed his limits when needed, and she seemingly had Larys Strong at his mercy, or the other way around, of that, the Princess was not entirely sure yet.

Sir Strong loved not the Gods or the Crown but himself and the thrill of keeping people hostage by the bondadge of secrets. He enjoyed parading around the corners, lurking, observing. He liked the authority that the Crown granted him, the preposterous work of secrecy. He translated the King’s rule into language than sounded vaguely religious, vaguely patriotic. Only to whisper it to the ears of maidens and servants.

It may have been paranoia, but the Princess could have sworn that the maidens took special care into looking for any red spots on the marital sheets. The Dowager Queen had been paying more attention to her, with that stern frown of hers. Real or imagined, it was dangerous to wait this long.

Tired of the whole ordeal, she decided that the occurrence was unavoidable, and at a reasonable cost of her sexual condition if anything, she could end the anxiety and the whispered chastity by taking some kind of agency and doing the first step.

The Princess soaked in rose water the scented brazil wood chips her mother had prepared her with. Using them to brightly paint her cheeks, nipples, and lips with an irresistible shade of contrast, and leaving her hair messy, determined to look desirable enough for it to be done tonight.

If the Prince was surprised to see her laying in bed, naked, when he walked into the chambers, he did not show proof of it on his face. The husband quickly took off his clothes, as well. He looked tired, even under the dim, warm yellow lights of the room. She smiled upon the view, a signal of relief, upon anything else. For the first time in weeks, her husband did not seem troubled and upset, only tired. The consummation might end quickly and without any fuss.

As soon as he laid on the sheets, she got up from the side of the bed that corresponded to her, and straddled the Prince. She wasn’t sure of what he may like, but she figured this was the safest and less degrading way to go about the night. She felt her nipples harden against the cold nightly wind, and she could also feel her husband's length hardened underneath her. Without any regard for her feelings, her core began to leak in anticipation. In that moment, she thanked the Gods for a handsome husband, and she thanked them for making him a contemporary in age. This wasn’t going to be as difficult as she initially thought.

For a moment, his eye seemed to shine with something similar to the spark of lust. Just for a moment.

It was gone almost as soon as she had noticed it. And with a soft but recognizably firm move, he got her off him.

“There is no use for it. We don’t carry the duty to fulfill the royal lineage” The Prince sounded cold, and spoke in a manner similar to how one explains a simple concept to a child. It scandalized her. Had he had no consideration at all for her safety? Was he blind to the watchful eyes of the maids? Was he not a man, or is it that you were insufficient in his eyes?

And if the offense wasn’t enough to hurt the Princess, he unknowingly added another striking statement, just for good measure “They are also an emotional lability. One that mustn’t be created recklessly taken in times of war”

Her heart seemed to sink in the depths of her stomach. The humiliation, sparked by anger washed over her head and burned her cheeks with an unbearable warmt. Without saying a word and trying to contain the tears that this robbery of agency had caused, she left the marital chambers.

Another brash, emotionally driven decision. A misjudgment, letting go of the calculating measure of taking care of what the court might think. The Princess needed a break from the claustrophobic room, from its cleaning, from her Husband’s cold offenses. How can he speak of children so callously? She had thought of her husband as a devout family member. Even the monster they had for the King loved his children. The Princess wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of forming a family in an arranged marriage, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her husband was rejecting her lineage and the single act of agency that she was truly permitted:The possibility of making happiness of her own, of raising her own. Feeling rudely rejected, and more lonely than ever before, she compulsively walked into the messy physis of the garden. Tears fell on her cheeks, and went down into her neck, she had no family, no friend, no kin to confide to. For the first time since her arrival, she felt the honesty of her situation falling from her tears.

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Notes: Omg the first part of the first long form series that i have ever conceived 😭😭 if anyone is interested in proofreading or if you see any mistakes please let me know! English is not my first language and I always make so many mistakes. Take care of one another!

— Sidey xxo

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