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siribaes · 10 months ago

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WHO’S BETTER THAN ME?

RIO x blackfem!reader (oc - Angel)

“After their breakup a decade ago, Rio reunites with high school sweetheart making up for lost time—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee, What You Want by Ma$e & Total, Throwback by Usher & Jadakiss, Thugman by Tweet & Missy Elliott, Only U by Ashanti

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, or*l (fem receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, slight possessive k*nk, Rio being a bedroom bully lol, some light use of Spanish, makeup s*x, cursing, etc. (UNEDITED/ NOT PROOF READ) / GIF CREDIT: @blackisblackisblack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full-blown fic, but anyway LOL. so i did a lil AU for rio, essentially he pulled a griselda blanco moved operations to Long Beach (Rio is so west coast coded to me) but yeah, the backstory of these two is that they were childhood friends turned high school sweethearts (class of 2005 in my AU lore of these two, hints at the music choices, etc.) before they went separate ways yada yada, the oc’s face claim is danielle brooks 💖 as always enjoy y'all

Makeup sex shouldn’t be this good. Like this was too good, like ultimate dream-fantasy level type of makeup sex. It felt unreal, except this was very real. Very, very, real.

Angel never imagined that her night would've ended up like this, in the arms of her high school sweet-heart, or rather sitting on top of a very expensive, entry way console, as her high school-sweetheart-turned-ex, used his nimble hands to fondle at her luscious curves, and pillowy-soft lips to suck on the sensitive part of her neck. From how hard Rio sucked and kissed on her neck it was surely going to leave a hickey, which might've been on purpose on Rio's part.

Since they were young, Rio always had a slight possessiveness towards Angel, nothing that was too domineering or chauvinistic, but still a possessiveness that was rooted in a love and a true appreciation of her. This of course was expressed in a way that only a sixteen-year-old Rio could, buying Angel's favorite snacks for school, littering her neck with hickeys during make-out sessions, and even saving what little he had to buy a gold necklace with an angel shaped pendant. It was the subtle ways Rio showed how he felt. That in addition to the verbal ways, in true young-Rio, braggadocious fashion. Even then Angel knew, deep, deep, down, that there would be no one who could measure up, or as Rio so accurately foretold the night of their break-up, "Who else is like me, hm? Who's better than me?"

Angel of course buried that fact deep into her subconscious, well, not deep enough, because in each of her relationships since, it managed to rear its ugly head every single time. Most recently, with her ex-fiancé, Nathan. Nathan was great at first, good conversation, amazing dates, lavish gifts, he treated her like princess. But slowly, over time, Nathan stopped trying, it especially became bad after their engagement. They rarely talked, unless it was about work, or wedding plans, he neglected her, especially in the bedroom. Angel soon realized that despite Nathan's neglectfulness, she made no effort to confront him about it. She didn't care, not a single bit. In the end, Angel had to accept that her heart belonged to someone else. That Rio was the only man for her.

Which brings her too tonight, Angel's high school class's reunion. It was a big one, celebrating 20 years, and Angel thought it would be the perfect remedy to cheer her up. She could let loose, reunite with some old classmates, and celebrate with her friends she's had since then. Something that could put her mind at ease, pull her focus away from the abysmal ending to her engagement.

She was having a good time, truly, cutting up on the dance floor to a killer set of music from 04' and 05', with her besties, Clarissa, Benny, Keke, and Dre. Angel was having the time of her life, dancing to Lose My Breath by Destiny's Child, when her friends froze, their eyes all staring at the bar of the ballroom. Clarissa leaned and whispered.

"Rio's, here."

Angel's mind and heart went to full overdrive, as memories of their relationship flooded her mind. Apparently, while Angel and her friends were having the time of their lives, Rio showed up and instantly became the talk of the town. He had a few breezy conversations with old classmates, charming them of course, and when asked about what does for a living, he smoothly responded that he was an entrepreneur, that he's always been good with numbers. Which wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Of course, none of their classmates were aware of Rio's true dealings, only Angel and her close circle were privy to that info.

Despite the nerves that bubbled in her stomach, Angel, knew that she had to face Rio at some point. She marched over and sat at the bar next to him. After some awkward pretense, more on Angel's part than Rio's, and shot of whiskey later, they talked. The conversation flowed and soon before they knew, it was like old times. They caught up and laughed about old memories. More and more Angel felt her heart swell in her chest, her latent feelings for Rio were bubbling to surface. But Rio surprised her, after sharing a couple dances to slow jams, a proposition slipped freely from his lips.

"Come home with me?"

From a safe distance, her friends watched the exchange, seeing the chemistry they still had after all this time, and despite some reservations, they encouraged to follow her heart, or as Keke put it, her pussy. When they were parting ways, Clarissa hugged her tight and encouraged her, whispering in her ear, "Just go with him, girl. Have some fun, we both now you deserve it after the shit you've been through."

So, here she was, whimpering and writhing underneath Rio's touch, while simultaneously admiring the backyard view. An ink-colored sky served as a gorgeous back drop, for the glowy lit infinity pool, in the distance was twinkling lights from buildings near the coastal beach. It was truly a sight to see. Angel snapped back to reality when she felt a firm hand, cradle her chin.

"Where'd you go?" Rio asked. His Coca-Cola colored eyes stared back at her. His head tipped to side, long eye lashes fluttering against the tops of cheeks as he blinked.

His gaze was heavy was lust, completely unrelenting. Its intensity caused Angel to squirm in her seated position. A warmth bloomed underneath her skin as she rubbed at the part of her neck Rio just was. It was still wet from his kisses.

"N-nowhere, baby," Angel stammered.

Slowly, Rio lips curled into a half smile.

"Good," Rio nodded his head as his gaze traveled down to Angel's chest, zeroing in on the exposed skin the peeked through her top, "now take this shit off. I wanna see them titties, Nena."

Completely under his spell, Angel quickly took of her top, leaving her in a lacy, cerulean colored bra, her mini skirt, and a pair of thoroughly soaked panties. Immediately Rio, hand's palmed at Angel's breasts, rubbing and squeezing them. A soft moan escaped her lips, as Rio's lips latched onto one of nipples.

"Yes, baby," Angel sighed, her hands cradled Rio's head close to her. His tongue alternated between soft flicks and harsh sucks at her left nipple. He released her nipple with a pop and went to the right nipple, repeating the same thing, "Fuck, baby, just like that. Shit!"

Angel could feel the wetness pool inside of her panties, as her clit began to throb. She needed Rio, real bad.

"Damn," Rio breathed out. He pulled away from Angel's chest, while his large hands rubbed at her ample thighs. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he admired his handywork. Angel's boobs glistened with sweat, as her hardened nipples stood at full attention, with spit dripping from them, "I missed them titties, girl. Fuck, I need to that pussy too. Lift up for me."

Angel obliged. Rio supported her with one hand, while with the other, slipping off her mini skirt and panties. He tossed the skirt to the floor, while he pocketed her panties. A storm swirled in his eyes, a thick haze of lust, as he admired Angel's, wet, glistening, pussy.

"I dunno if I can wait, mama," Rio rasped. He brought a finger to Angel's core, swiping at her wetness, and brought it back to his lips, sucking on it, "You taste good, mama. All this shit for me?"

Angel nodded. "Yes, it's all for you baby,"

Wordlessly, Rio plunged his fingers inside of Angel, who let out a yelp in response. He quickly fell back into old habits, fucking Angel with his fingers, just the way she liked it.

"Yeaaahhh, just like that," Rio rasped, he bent down and licked at her lips, "Be a good girl and fuck my fingers back," Angel whined loudly, following his instructions, lifting her hips slight and fucked his thick, fingers.

"Fuck! I'm close baby!"

"I gotchu, mama. Fuck, I feel you on my fingers. You gonna let me take care of you, huh? I'll give you anything you want mama, fuck, you being so good for me. Cum for me, darlin',"

And she did. Angel's eyes squeezed shut as she gushed over his fingers. A string of curses and pleases slipped from Angel's lips as Rio continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She could feel the cum slipping down her thighs.

"Mi alma, you look so good cummin' for me," Rio praised her. He captured her lips and kissed her sweetly. His tongue swirled around in her mouth as mimicking the move with his fingers. Angel pulled away from him, mewling.

"Riooooo, fuck, slow down baby,"

Rio landed a firm smack on Angel's ass. He cradled Angel's chin bringing her eyes towards him. His eyes hardened a bit, still holding its lustful haze, now a bit possessiveness broke through. Rio crooked his fingers, slowing down his pace just a tad, but driving into Angel's pussy much harsher and deeper.

"Fuck, I say about that shit," He growled.

"Shit! Baby, I-I'm s-sorry," Angel whimpered. Her mind flickered back to them making out in the car, he only to wanted to her his name, his real one, "Christopher, 's too much,"

A look of pure satisfaction bloomed across Rio's face. Got her.

"Just one more, mama. Be a good girl for me," Rio sunk down to knees, he slowly placed small kisses at Angel's inner thighs. He worshiped the plushness of her thighs, while Angel writhed and whined. He inched closer, spreading Angel's thighs further apart. He admired how she dripped around his fingers. "Fuck, mama I want you to cum on my tongue, 'k?"

Rio kept his eyes on Angel as he licked at her entrance, swirling his tongue around his fingers, continuing on until he reached her clit. Rio pressed a soft kiss to Angel's clit.

"Christopher!" Angel shouted.

Rio worked in tandem, his long fingers plunged in and out of Angel's, while his tongue swirled around her clit, flicking at the sensitive bud. Angel's hands rubbed at the soft hair of Rio's buzzcut, while the familiar thrumming of her orgasm quickly approached.

"Christopher, fuck, I'm soooo close,"

Rio pulled back, "Say it again,"

"Christopher,”

“Again,”

“Christopher, Christopher, Christopherrrrr, keep fuckin’ me, I’m so close,”

Rio grinned as he returned to her pussy. He latched onto her clit, sucking so harshly, Angel for sure believe that it was going to be bruised. His fingers fucked her even faster, as she clenched around them, as Rio French-kissed her pussy. He was completely relentless, wanting to see her cum, again, again, and again. With one last, harsh suck at her clit, Angel, exploded. She screamed in pleasure as she rode out her orgasm. Rio rose up, slowly pumping his fingers, before pulling out.

"Did so good for me," He mumbled against her cheek, holding her close as Angel rode out the aftershocks.

“I love you so much, baby,” Angel whispered in his ear.

Rio captured her lips again, kissing Angel. He licked at her mouth, allowing Angel to taste herself. Rio arms snaked around Angel's torso, and with ease, managed to throw her over his shoulder. Angel giggled and kicked her feet and Rio moved to the stairs.

"Baby! What are you doing?"

"It's time for the real show to start, Nena," Rio teased, he playfully smacked her ass, "You ready for me?"

"Always."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #good girls fanfiction #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction

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coffeeshades · 2 months ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VII

—forever winter

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.8k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and covid. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello again, here's the next part!! also here are a few songs i listened to while writing this one: salt in the wound - boygenius, flume - bon iver, the gold - phoebe bridgers, for emma - bon iver, forever winter - taylor swift and calgary - bon iver.

happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 19, 2020

Los Angeles, CA

There have always been two versions of you: the person you once were and the person the world has decided you are. The first is the one who existed long before the spotlight, the one with a bit of adolescent angst, dreams bigger than herself, and a heart still learning to shield itself.

This version was taught by her parents that she was special, but the world hadn’t yet caught on. She was the girl who felt small and out of place, who wrestled with who she was and where she belonged.

And then there’s the second version, the one who stands in the center of magazine covers, on the glossy side of fame. She is everything you once dreamed of becoming—and more. You’ve spent the last decade perfecting her image, carving her out of raw ambition and countless hours under the hot glare of cameras. Her Wikipedia page reads like an epic: awards, accolades, achievements—flawless. She’s a masterpiece.

This side of you is never tired. She never shows frustration. She knows how to angle her face when the camera flashes, to smile when the questions sting, and to cry beautifully when accepting awards. She can gracefully discuss the sexism she’s faced in the industry, yet she knows better than to name names or point fingers.

She always sticks to the narrative.

For the longest time, you hoped you wouldn’t need to split into two people. That the version of yourself from years ago would be good enough for the world. But the divide wasn’t gradual—it was sudden. It happened four years ago, the day your ex decided to make you the centerpiece of a bitter, ugly breakup that splashed across every tabloid in the country. Since then, you’ve been caught between these two identities, juggling the woman you once were with the image the world expects of you.

As you sit in the back seat of the car, your eyes linger on your reflection in the tinted window. Tonight is the SAG Awards, another high-profile event where your public persona will take the lead. You watch yourself in the mirror, a familiar stranger, and wonder: Does anyone truly know you? Do you even know yourself anymore?

“There's a line of press when you get out of the car,” Taylor, your manager, says without looking up from her phone. “You know, the usual stuff.”

“Got it.”

You nod, trying to focus on the task ahead, but your thoughts are far away. You look out the window, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. No matter how many of these events you attend, it never gets easier.

The car slows to a stop, the muffled sounds of the crowd growing louder through the windows.

“Why isn’t Daniel here?” Taylor asks, breaking the silence.

“He had to fly back to Enstone,” you reply, a pang of disappointment in your chest. “The season starts soon. He’s prepping.”

Last year was a challenging one for Daniel—his racing season wasn’t what he hoped for, and he’s determined to make up for it this time around. His commitment to his craft mirrors yours in so many ways, but tonight, you wish he was here with you.

“Oh, that’s too bad, babe,” Taylor says, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of sympathy. “When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure; he didn't say,” you murmur. “Hopefully soon.”

The door opens, and the roar of the crowd hits you like a wave. Flashing cameras, the shouting of photographers, and the glittering red carpet stretch out before you. “Looks like we’re here,” Taylor says, stepping out and extending a hand to help you.

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. It’s always easier with someone by your side, but tonight you’ll have to do this alone. You follow Taylor’s lead, plastering a smile on your face as you step out into the chaos. The cameras flash, posing and waving, but inside, you feel detached—like you’re watching yourself from afar.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally make it inside the venue, your body relaxing slightly as the noise of the red carpet fades behind you. You’re greeted by familiar faces and smiles, but the exhaustion from keeping up appearances lingers.

“I thought I was going to be the coolest person here, but clearly, you've beat me to it.”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts, deep and teasing. You turn and find Pedro standing there, dressed in a sleek silver suit jacket with black pants, his expression warm and playful.

His presence doesn't faze you; you've been filming for the Mandalorian since November last year, seeing each other here and there, not really spending time together between takes, and not acknowledging what happened at the wedding. You didn't hear from him since production stopped mid-December, only to get back on set early January. Although with everything else he's doing, you barely see him there anyway.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes lingering on you.

You glance down at your outfit—a sharp, stylish suit you picked for the night. It fits perfectly, giving you an air of confidence even though, inside, you feel anything but. “Thanks,” you say. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Pascal.” You gesture to his getup, offering a kind smile.

Pedro smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I came over to congratulate you.”

"Yeah?"

“The Achievement Award. That's huge.”

You laugh softly, a little self-conscious. “That sounds like an overstatement for someone who’s only 28.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze piercing. Pedro has always been able to see through you in ways that others can’t. You can hide from the world, but not from him.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, his voice firm.

“Do what?” you ask, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

“Don’t invalidate your accomplishments. You deserve this.”

There’s something in the way he says it—a weight to his words that makes you pause. Part of you wants to argue, to downplay everything like you always do, but his sincerity stops you.

Instead, you nod, offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Pedro,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”

Does it?

He sees right through and holds out his arm, a silent invitation. “Wanna walk in with me?”

For a moment, you hesitate. There’s an unspoken tension between the two of you, a history that neither of you has fully acknowledged. But as your eyes meet, the air shifts. You loop your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as the two of you make your way into the theater together. A camera flash goes off, and you smile. But this time, with Pedro by your side, it feels a little less lonely.

•••

You were sitting at a table when a fellow actor and friend started talking about you on stage. It was surreal, like time had slowed down, and you found yourself lost in thought. You’d been to countless awards shows and accepted more than your share of accolades, but this one felt different. A recognition of not just a role or a single performance, but a lifetime of work—or at least, a decade of it. And you were still young. Too young, part of you thought, for this kind of tribute. Yet here you were, about to be honored in front of your peers, the people who had seen your highs and lows.

The screen flickered to life, and a montage of your work began to play. Scenes from movies that had shaped your career, close-ups of moments that had shaped you. A smile here, a tear there, moments of triumph and vulnerability.

It was oddly like watching your life flash before your eyes—a strange out-of-body experience, as if you were looking back at someone else's journey. The montage moved through the years, capturing not just the characters you played but the changes in you—subtle at first, then more pronounced. The younger you, still full of raw hope and untamed energy, compared to the more seasoned version, who had learned how to navigate the treacherous terrain of fame. It felt like a snapshot of your life in fast-forward, as if you were witnessing your own eulogy.

You breathed in deeply, trying to stay present. It wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself.

The applause was thunderous as the montage ended, and it wasn’t until your name was called that reality snapped back into focus.

You stepped out into the blinding lights, the weight of the moment settling in as you approached the podium. The sea of faces before you blurred slightly in the brightness, but you could make out familiar ones. Peers you respected, younger actors looking up at you with wide eyes, veterans who had paved the way before you. And somewhere out there, you knew Pedro was watching.

With trembling hands, you held the award, the metal cool against your palm. You took a breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“This is... overwhelming,” you began, chuckling, your voice breaking slightly from the emotion of it all. “I don’t even know where to start. Thank you to everyone who believed in me and to the people who supported me through the ups and downs. This means more than I can put into words.”

You paused, scanning the room, catching sight of Pedro for just a second, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that grounded you.

“When I started this journey, I was just a kid with big dreams and very little understanding of how hard this industry could be,” you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. “But I learned early on that dreams don’t work unless you do. It’s not just about talent—it’s about determination, grit, and pushing through even when everything seems impossible.”

Your eyes drifted toward the younger faces in the audience. “To the younger actors out there, keep going. I know it can feel like the world is telling you no at every turn, like you’re not good enough or that you’ll never make it, but don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop working. This industry can be brutal, but it can also be beautiful. Find the beauty. Hold onto it. Work for it.”

A wave of applause broke out, but you weren’t finished yet. You felt a pull, a need to say more, something from the heart. Something real.

“And through all of it,” you said, your voice softer now, “keep the people who truly love you close. In this business, it’s easy to get lost in the noise, in the hundreds of things that try to tear you down or make you feel like you’re not enough. But the people who love you for who you are, not what you can give them, are the ones who will keep you grounded. I’ve met some of my forever people in this industry, and for that, I’m grateful. Despite all the bad and all the heartache that comes with this life, it’s those relationships that make it worthwhile.”

Your gaze wandered again, unconsciously searching the crowd for Pedro, and when your eyes met his, something inside you softened. He knew what you were talking about. He knew the weight of those words better than anyone.

“I’m grateful,” you continued, your voice a little more vulnerable now, “because I’ve been able to hold on to those people. Even when things get complicated even when it feels like the world is pushing us apart. You have to fight for those connections. They’re what make this crazy, beautiful life worth living.”

You felt a lump in your throat but pushed through it, finishing with, “So thank you. To the people in my life who have stuck with me through the good and the bad. This is as much yours as it is mine.”

March 5th, 2020

Calgary, Canada

Life after the awards ceremony didn’t feel much different than before. It was still the same relentless rhythm—work, events, travel, more work. The brief moments of peace in between became rare and fleeting, like whispers in the storm of your career. Daniel’s season was supposed to start soon, and though you’d seen him twice after he flew to France for preparations, something between you felt... off. His distance was palpable, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on it too much. It was easier to stay busy, keep moving, and brush it off as a phase. After all, the both of you were pulled in so many directions—when was the last time anything felt normal?

A quiet dinner in your NYC apartment, one of the few times Daniel managed to swing by in between training sessions. The table was set with takeout boxes instead of a home-cooked meal—neither of you had the energy for anything more.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, watching him as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I miss this,” you added.

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel said, but the words were like dust on the air—insubstantial, weightless.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet," you trailed off, unsure of how to breach the distance you felt growing between you.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind with the season coming up. It’s…you know, a lot of pressure.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on his. “You’re going to be great. You always are.”

He gave you that familiar smile, but it still felt like something was slipping through your fingers.

•••

By March, you had flown to Calgary to shoot a horror-adjacent film. The setting—a desolate cabin in the snow, miles from anywhere—was perfect for the kind of chilling atmosphere the director was aiming for. You’d always loved working with indie directors; their stories had depth, innovation, and a sense of grounded reality that the big-budget productions sometimes lacked. It was a reminder of why you fell in love with acting in the first place.

On set, things moved fast. Between takes, you found a quiet corner of the cabin and pulled out your phone to FaceTime with Taylor. She was mid-ranting when she answered.

“There’s a potential shutdown happening, babe. Something about a virus…COVID, or whatever they’re calling it. Have you heard anything about it?”

You’d heard whispers from the crew, but nothing had been confirmed. “I’ve heard some talk around set, but no one knows what’s happening yet.”

“Well, I’m telling you now, it’s serious. This might be the last project you get to work on for a while. Everything else is likely to be delayed. Keep your eyes open.”

You sighed, looking around as the crew moved around with their usual buzz of energy.

“Guess I’ll enjoy this last bit of freedom while I can.”

Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, enjoy it while you’re in the middle of nowhere. Call me if you hear anything else.”

You ended the call and pocketed your phone, the unease settling into your chest. Everyone around the set seemed unfazed, but the air had undoubtedly changed.

By the final days of production, the world was different. Everyone wore face masks, and hand sanitizer became the reigning deity on set.

•••

Reality hit hard. Flights were cancelled. No one could leave. You were stuck in the cabin, snow piling up outside like a barricade against the world, while the virus barricaded you from returning home. You made a grocery run the minute things got a little hectic, filling the place with more supplies than you’d ever seen yourself buy—just in case. The panic in the air was contagious, and chaos reigned for those first two weeks.

You FaceTimed your mom as you unpacked. “I’m stuck in Canada,” you said, laughing softly despite the anxiety that gnawed at your insides.

“Are you serious?” her voice was a mix of worry and exasperation. “You should’ve been back by now. What about New York?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back. Airports are closed.”

She sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the phone. “Just take care of yourself, honey, alright? Don’t be reckless. Are you alone?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine."

Her voice softened. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will, Mom. I promise.”

•••

It was a particularly dark, cold afternoon. The kind where the sky hung low with thick clouds and the cold crept in through the cracks of the cabin no matter how many layers you wore. You had wrapped yourself in a blanket, the silence of isolation pressing down heavier than usual when your phone buzzed on the table.

Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button, but you couldn’t ignore him. Not yet. So you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear, forcing a soft, casual, “Hey.”

His voice on the other end was calm, but there was an undercurrent to it—a kind of distance that had been growing for months. "Hey," he replied, his Aussie accent tinged with something heavy. "How’s it going over there?"

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “You know… same. Snowed in. A lot of waiting.” There was an awkward pause. You filled it with a half-hearted laugh. “How about you? Everything alright?”

He cleared his throat, and you could feel the shift before he even said it. “Actually… I don’t think we should keep this up.”

The words hit you like the cold outside, seeping into your bones, but not with shock—just a kind of muted inevitability. There it is, you thought, the final crack in what was already falling apart.

Your brain hummed with white noise after that. You don’t remember what you said in response, something vague like, “Yeah, I get it.” The words came out on autopilot, and you weren’t really listening anymore. It wasn’t traumatic; it wasn’t the kind of breakup that destroyed you. It was like slowly waking from a dream and realizing it had already ended before you even opened your eyes.

His voice was kind, soft—too soft. “You’re so great, you know that, right? This just… it wasn’t working anymore. For either of us.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. Your mind was elsewhere—on the conversations with Pedro, on the way your heart leaped when you heard his voice instead of Daniel’s. You had known, deep down, for a while now where your heart really was.

“I guess we knew this was coming,” you finally managed, voice steady, as if you were discussing something as simple as the weather.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But still… I didn’t want it to hurt.”

The niceties and the polite words that followed hurt more than any fight ever could have. It was the kindness of it that made it sting—the acknowledgment that neither of you had it in you to fight for something that had already drifted away. There was no anger, no raised voices, no accusations.

Just two people who had loved each other briefly, now saying goodbye like they were parting ways at an airport terminal.

“Well, take care of yourself, alright?” Daniel said softly.

“You too,” you whispered, already feeling the weight of finality.

And then it was over. The phone went silent in your hand, and you stared at the screen as if it could offer you some kind of closure that you weren’t sure you needed.

•••

The days began to bleed into one another. You were alone in that cabin—snowed in and quarantined from the world. The only connection you had was through your phone, through calls with Sarah and Oscar, who checked in on you daily.

Most days, you found ways to pass the time. You read, you cooked—burned some things, too—and found yourself sitting by the old piano that had come with the cabin. Your fingers brushed against the keys, unsure at first, after so much time spent focusing on acting. But the music came swiftly, like muscle memory. The songs poured out of you, stories in lyrical form, shaped by the silence and solitude around you.

But some nights, the quiet was too loud.

The breakup with Daniel lingered in the back of your mind like a dull ache. You had been okay with it for the most part; you knew it was coming, and neither of you were in it anymore. But there were nights, like tonight, when the weight of it crashed down and the loneliness felt too heavy to carry. You lay in bed, tears wetting the pillow, thinking about how everything had ended in polite goodbyes when maybe you needed the screaming.

•••

One day, in the middle of baking—flour dusting your hands and a bowl of half-mixed batter sitting on the counter—you received a text: “I hope you’re doing okay.”

You stared at it, your heart skipping a beat. You had thought about him every single day and wondered how he was coping and whether he was safe. Anytime Sarah called, you asked about him, telling yourself that it was enough to know from a distance. But now, with that simple text, you caved.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

His reply came almost immediately. “Not really. Mostly lonely.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how hard it was for him to be alone. He thrived off people, off energy. And now, the world had gone still.

“Wanna talk?” you typed, holding your breath.

“Would love to hear your voice,” came the reply.

So you called him, and the hours melted away as you both talked about everything—about the virus, about work, about how isolating it all was. He asked, finally, “How’s Daniel?”

You hesitated. “We’re no longer together. Haven’t been for a while.”

There was a pause, then a soft, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

You quickly changed the subject, but it lingered between you, the unspoken acknowledgment of what that meant. After that, you spoke almost every day. The isolation became less suffocating, and with each call, you both felt a little less alone.

•••

On Pedro’s birthday, you baked a cupcake in his honor, lighting a single candle before FaceTiming him. When he picked up, he laughed, “You made me a cupcake?”

“Of course I did,” you said with a grin, holding up the tiny treat. “Now, pretend to blow out the candle.”

He played along, puffing his cheeks and making a ridiculous show of it. “Thank you for this. It’s not much of a birthday without people.”

“Well, you’ve got me,” you said, singing an off-key version of Happy Birthday. His laughter filled the space between you.

Later that night, he posted a screenshot of your call on his Instagram story, and the internet lost its mind. Comments flooded in—"Omg, she baked him a cupcake!"—“My favorite best friends!”—and you laughed at the attention it brought.

•••

One evening, as you sat at the piano again, your phone propped up with Pedro on FaceTime, he listened quietly as you played a new melody. “I think the lyrics need work,” you said, biting your lip.

He smirked. “Let me hear them.”

You hummed the first few lines, fumbling over the phrasing. “See, it doesn’t quite flow.”

“Let’s try this,” Pedro suggested, offering a line.

By the end of the night, the song felt whole, and you felt lighter.

The days passed—isolated and cold—but your connection with Pedro was alive and warm again. And as the weeks stretched on, you couldn’t help but wonder: How long until you fucked this up again?

October 5, 2020

Budapest, Hungary

Pedro had always known loneliness. It was a quiet, persistent companion, but in Budapest, it had taken on a new form. The city was beautiful, its streets old and layered with history, but none of it could distract him from the hollow ache in his chest. The early mornings on set, the long hours of filming—the work was steady. But outside of that, the hours stretched endlessly.

He had been filming in Europe for months, and though he loved his job, the thrill of creating something special—the distance—both physical and emotional—was wearing him thin. He had been keeping in touch with you, his constant thread of connection. The texts, the occasional FaceTime calls, were easy and comforting. But he could never shake the weight of what he hadn’t told you. What you didn't allow him to say. It felt like a brick in his stomach.

You lived strangely in his head.

He still hadn’t found the courage to say the words. I love you. They haunted him—a truth he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Every time he thought he was ready, he backtracked, swallowing the confession whole. His cowardice infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been in love with you for years, the feelings growing stronger and deeper, but now… now you were thousands of miles away, and he was stuck in this self-made purgatory.

His thoughts often drifted to his mother lately. She had always known how to comfort him, her voice soothing, her advice simple but profound. What would she have said about you? About his inability to speak the truth? He could hear her in his head, telling him to stop being such a fool, to just go for it. But she wasn’t here anymore, and he felt lost without her, more than he ever let on.

The days on set were repetitive but engaging. The crew was tightknit, and the project was exciting. He threw himself into work, hoping it would distract him. He laughed with the cast, bantered with the director, but when the camera wasn’t rolling, his mind was elsewhere. It was with you.

•••

A few weeks later, after wrapping up in Budapest, he found himself in Switzerland alone again. He didn’t know why he’d come. The scenery was breathtaking, the mountains vast and quiet, but the isolation magnified the emptiness he felt. It was as if everything had come to a standstill.

The stillness weighed on him. The quiet, once a solace, now felt oppressive. He spent his days wandering the small towns, drinking coffee in hidden cafés, trying to convince himself that the solitude was a gift. But he felt shattered, more broken than before.

One night, the loneliness became too much, and he called you. Desperation tightened his throat as he waited for you to pick up, his mind screaming at him to just tell you. The phone rang, and when you answered, your voice was soft, familiar, and full of comfort.

"Pedro," you said, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

His breath caught, and the confession lodged itself in his throat again. He had been ready, so ready, but hearing you—he thought better of it. What could he say that wouldn’t ruin everything?

"Hey," he replied, his voice rougher than intended. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

You chuckled softly on the other end. "You good?"

"Yeah, I’m good," he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. "Just…miss talking to you, that’s all."

"I miss you too," you said, and it broke him a little more. The call went on, but he had already retreated into himself, too afraid to say what needed to be said. He listened to you talk about your day, your laugh filling the silence on his end, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing—failing himself, failing you.

•••

The next day, he went for a walk. The air was cold, biting, but it didn’t bother him. He needed to clear his head. He walked along the cobbled streets, past quaint houses with shuttered windows, and let the weight of his feelings wash over him. It was overwhelming. His history with you, all the unsaid things, all the moments when he should have acted and didn’t. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him breathless.

He found a bench and sat, his head in his hands. One day, he thought. One day, I’ll tell her.

December 31st, 2020

New York, NY

The phone call from Oscar came two weeks before New Year's Eve. His voice was warm, as it always was, but there was an unmistakable edge of hope in it, the kind that crept in after months of isolation.

“It’s just something small,” he had said. You could hear his smile through the phone, that charming grin he always wore. “Not a lot of people, you know. Just family and close friends. After the last few months we've had… I think we need this.”

You hadn’t seen Oscar in person in what felt like forever, and the idea of being with people—Oscar’s people, your people—sounded like a balm to the soul. You agreed before he could finish the invitation, the excitement bubbling up despite the world still not feeling quite right.

You got tested later that week, making sure you were safe to attend the gathering.

When you arrived at Oscar’s apartment, the city had an eerie quiet to it. New York was never still, even during the pandemic, but tonight it felt subdued, like it was holding its breath for something more. You headed for the entrance, and the soft sound of music spilled out the moment the doors opened.

Oscar met you with his arms wide open, pulling you into a tight hug. “Look who finally made it,” he teased, his face lighting up in that familiar way. “You look good.”

“You too,” you said, stepping back and taking in the warmth of the room. It was intimate—just the right amount of people to make you feel at home, but not so many that it felt overwhelming.

Before you could take another step, Sarah swooped in, stealing you from Oscar’s embrace with an exaggerated squeal. She enveloped you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe.

“I missed you so much!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight. You hadn’t seen her in ages, and the reunion felt like a weight lifting off your chest. The two of you spent the next few minutes catching up, your laughter blending in with the soft chatter around the room.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. He had arrived a little late, typical of him, but the sight of him sent your heart into a dizzying spin. It had been almost a year since you last saw each other in person.

He moved through the room, and when he finally made his way toward you, your breath hitched. He wore a simple black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his toned chest. His hair was longer, fluffy from the months of lockdown, and his big brown eyes—usually so full of light —looked tired.

But when he saw you, the weariness seemed to lift for a moment.

He said your name softly, stepping close. His arms opened, and you fell into them without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him in a way that felt too familiar, too safe. He held you tight, his grip lingering longer than necessary, like he was afraid to let go.

“Hey,” you breathed against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him—pleasant, familiar, grounding. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you. You pulled back slightly, looking into his face, wanting to say something—anything. You couldn’t live without thinking about him. He consumed your every thought, and somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with how you felt about him.

But the words stuck in your throat.

“At last, we see each other,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, his hand still on your back.

“At last,” you repeated, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You both opened your mouths to speak, then laughed in unison.

"You first," Pedro said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, though there was something deeper there—something lingering just beneath the surface.

But before you could say anything more, Sarah reappeared, her arm hooking through yours as she dragged you away. “Sorry! I need to steal her for a sec,” she said with a laugh, oblivious to the quiet intensity of the moment she’d interrupted.

Pedro smiled at her, though his eyes flicked back to you. "What I wanted to say can wait," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise that sent a jolt through you.

You promised yourself you’d find him later.

•••

In the kitchen, you and Sarah were rummaging through cabinets for more drinks when you heard Oscar’s booming laugh. Turning, you spotted him and Pedro, who now had a ridiculous pointy birthday hat perched on his head. You burst into laughter at the sight, unable to resist.

“Cute hat,” you said, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “Let’s document this moment.”

He grinned, grabbing Oscar by the shoulder and pulling him in for the picture. Pedro tilted his head, drinking from his beer, and Oscar looked up at him with a puzzled expression as you snapped a photo.

“Perfect. That’s going on Instagram for sure,” you teased, and Pedro groaned.

Before anyone could respond, Oscar’s wife walked by, eyeing the hat on Pedro’s head with mock suspicion. Pedro took his cue, unlocking from Oscar and jokingly attacking her with the pointy hat, poking her side with the plastic tip. You snapped another picture, laughing as she swatted him away.

“Send that to me,” she called over her shoulder, and you nodded, tucking your phone back into your pocket just as Sarah handed you a drink.

•••

The night continued, the energy in the room bubbling up as the countdown to midnight approached. Karaoke had started in one of the rooms, and you couldn’t resist.

Pedro avoided it at all costs, standing in the doorway with a bemused expression. After your rendition of Losing My Religion, he caught your eye.

“That was something, huh?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I was extra terrible just for you,” you shot back, walking over to him. “I know how much you hate this.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” he said.

Just as you were about to respond, a woman’s voice broke through the moment. “Oscar said you were in here,” she said, stepping forward. “Hi.”

You turned to see her approach Pedro, and before you could fully register what was happening, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. A casual, intimate gesture that sent a shock of realization through your entire body.

You blink, dumbfounded, as Pedro shifted slightly to make introductions. “This is Julia,” he said, his voice a little too calm for the turmoil suddenly spinning inside you.

Your mind raced, trying to place her. And then it hit you—she was in the group photos he posted from the crew of the movie he was filming in Budapest. One of the producers, you think.

Oh.

Julia greeted you happily, oblivious to the terrible ache now pooling in your chest. You felt your throat tighten, the words you had wanted to say earlier were now swallowed by this unfamiliar wave of jealousy and disappointment. You went mute, unable to find words that wouldn’t betray how much this hurt.

Pedro’s voice broke the silence again, almost too nonchalant. “This is what I wanted to talk about earlier.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh, great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you didn’t feel.

“And you?” Pedro asked, clearly trying to keep things light. “You said you wanted to talk, too.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and your mind screamed for you to say something—anything—but all you could muster was, “No, um, it was nothing, really.”

Something stung deep inside you. It was a dull ache, gnawing away at your resolve. You needed a way out. Fast.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you said to her, your voice tight. “If you’ll excuse me…”

And before either of them could say anything more, you slipped away, making a beeline for the kitchen where Oscar stood.

“Hey,” you blurted, pulling him aside. “He’s fucking dating someone? And you didn’t say a thing?”

Oscar looked at you, taken aback. “I—it wasn’t my news to share.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to swallow the embarrassment. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I just… I can't believe I was about to confess my love for him and make a fool of myself. Again.”

Oscar stared at you, his eyebrows raised. “You were what?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Yeah. But now? I mean, clearly, it’s just another sign. The timing’s never right. Never.”

Was it punishment? you thought.

Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain of what to say. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed another drink. “Here,” he said quietly, offering it to you.

You took it, staring at the liquid swirling in the glass.

"It’s fairly new, you know," Oscar said softly, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Like two weeks or something. It’s not serious yet."

“I just don’t get it,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “I don’t.”

Oscar sighed, his hand finding your back, a comforting weight that helped ground you. “I know. I know.”

You knew there was else nothing you could do right now, so you poured the drink down your throat, feeling the burn as it went down.

•••

“There you are,” Pedro called softly, his voice muffled by the cold air as he stepped through the glass doors onto the backyard patio. The wind hit him immediately, sharp and biting, but the bitter cold felt fitting, almost poetic.

You stood there, your back to him, a silhouette against the frozen horizon. For a moment, he was transported back to the first time he saw you in this very spot, under a much different sky. That night, the air had been warm, filled with the kind of anticipation that crackled with every glance exchanged. You had stood just like this, dressed similarly too, arms crossed against the world, hair cascading down your back like a curtain he desperately wanted to pull aside.

But tonight was different. Tonight, your shoulders were tense, hunched against more than just the cold. When you turned around, your face wasn’t full of curiosity. It was distant, your eyes heavy with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that he knew he was responsible for.

"You bolted out of there," Pedro said, his voice strained as he tried to sound casual, but the worry leaked through.

You gave a soft, bitter hum, a sound he couldn’t decipher but felt in his bones. "I was a bit shocked, honestly."

He swallowed, suddenly nervous, fumbling with the words he had rehearsed in his mind so many times but never managed to say. "I know. I wanted to tell you about her, I just... I don’t know. It’s new. I didn’t think it was important enough yet. I thought I’d find the right moment, but it never felt... appropriate. And I didn’t want to make things weird, you know?"

Pedro kept talking, words spilling out as he tried to explain. He mentioned her name—Julia—said they had met on set, that it wasn’t serious yet, that it had barely even begun. His voice grew quieter, more unsure with every sentence, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

See, Pedro hadn't planned on getting into a relationship, not when his every thought was consumed by you, not when he knew he loved you, and yet here he was. He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

But your expression had already changed. He could see the way your face shut down, the way your gaze hardened, and it twisted something deep inside him.

“Don’t apologize to me about your relationship,” you said, the words sharp and cutting. “That’s the kind of thing that makes me feel like I’m some kind of Machiavellian villain.”

Pedro winced, his breath catching in his throat. He hated this. But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice lower, more controlled.

"Our time never seems to align, does it? It never has, and it never will. It's funny, even.” You paused, looking away, your voice a strained whisper.

Pedro wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that he felt trapped between his own heart and the razor-sharp edge of what was right, what was fair. The guilt and longing were choking him, twisting his insides until all he could feel was the jagged ache of wanting something that was always just out of reach.

You took a deep breath, the cold air clouding in front of you like smoke.

"Are you happy?" you asked, your voice barely audible. A mirror of his very own "Do you love him?" from last year.

Pedro looked at you, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’m trying,” he said quietly, the truth in the words landing hard.

You nodded, your lips pressed together in a sad, resigned smile.

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

It was an unspoken agreement—a quiet acceptance that, once again, you were not meant to be. That your lives had written this story long before you’d ever had a say in it.

a/n: enough sadness, their time will come soon ;)

a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fic #my writing #love is complicated fic

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girlfromthecrypt · 4 months ago

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Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.

You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene.

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t.

And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be.

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac

TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past.

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Others:

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]

Please consider reblogging if you like my work!

#interactive fiction #choicescript wip #choicescript game #romanceable characters #if: wip #original fiction #daisy jones and the six #music inspired #upcoming if

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uponawhitehorse13 · 2 months ago

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Saber SFW alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

She gets very flustered by affection unless she doesn’t realise something is affectionate. Like she will be completely straight-faced wiping crumbs off your face or carrying you to bed after you fell asleep only to turn into a blushing mess of excuses when someone points it out.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You’re either her master or friends with her master (or maybe she’s your master >:) ). Other than that she’s a very loyal friend.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Very protective big spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

While I don't think she’d be against settling down I doubt she’s good at either cooking or cleaning due to being a king and probably being used to things like that being taken care of by servants.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Very swift. A simple and elegant rejection of further advances.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

She’d be very happy but only if she proposed. If you proposed she’d be angry about how it’s the king’s duty to propose.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Incredibly gentle due to her immense strength. Like she’s genuinely scared of hurting you sometimes.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Always ready to hug you. If you jumped at her while she’s carrying something she’d drop it just to catch you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She’s very hesitant to say it but when she does you know she means it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

While she does trust you if she sees someone flirting with you she immediately considers it a challenge. If they think they are better for you than her, surely they can beat her in a contest.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses always make her blush very hard. But she does love giving you one when parting ways. Almost like a little promise that you’ll meet again.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’d be a very good mom. Would give it her all.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

After dinner she makes you go to bed. She doesn’t let you stay up late so you have energy for tomorrow.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Slow about revealing things. It’s very much about building up trust.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Very patient but she will lash out if you really make her angry.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She’s good about remembering things but not extraordinary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It wouldn’t be the moment she fell for you but the moment she accepted it. When she stopped holding back and finally let herself be nothing more than a girl in love.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Insanely protective. She’d very literally die for you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She tries very hard to plan out perfect dates but if anything goes wrong she’ll immediately get very apologetic even if it wasn’t her fault. You’ll need to comfort her about her not needing to worry that much about “her duty as a girlfriend” as she puts it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Overburdens herself with a lot of stuff at once. You will need to remind her to take a break.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Due to her royal status she was always kind of forced into either ornate clothes or armour but if it were a question of personal taste I think she’d prefer simple clothes. Just plain and non-extravagant stuff.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If she got far enough to accept her feelings she’d be devastated by losing you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

There’s an unshakable feeling in my bones that Saber would game. She would enjoy gaming. I feel it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Lack of discipline or seriousness. She will beat some sense into you if it’s needed.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

She probably has a plushie she squeezes the life out of while she sleeps. Unless she’s sleeping with you of course.

Author's note: There's a small chance of this post getting heavily edited or even deleted if my headcanons change too much as I get more familiar with Fate but I doubt that'll happen as I'm very satisfied with them even after reading the wiki. Also big thanks to @shikiii-skadi for fact checking.

#x reader #fate x reader #fate stay night x reader #fate stay night #artoria pendragon #arturia pendragon #saber #fate/stay night #sfw alphabet #fate series

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vanillawurld · 1 year ago

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༊*·˚How To Disappear

✧.* Pair - Johnny Cage x Fem! Reader

✧.* Tags & Warnings - Cursing, angst, pregnancy, acceptance, distance, love, slight fluff(?)

✧.* Summary - Y/N remembers the life she had with Johnny. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the beauty. After a while of being a young single mother, she finally realizes that in order to move on, she needs to accept her past.

✧.* Extra - FINISH ME JOHNNY also I'm bad at summaries... also "D/N" means daughters name :3

✧.* Word Count - 1,884

Y/N hated reminiscing on her past with Johnny cause if she thought about the good things that happened, she also had to think about the bad things. She hated thinking about the ugly part of their relationship. Every time he was upset with her, she felt like she failed him as a girlfriend and a person in general. Every time she was upset with him, he felt like the shittiest man on earth. Their arguments didn't make things any better.

But even through all the tears, anger, and arguments, Y/N loved Jonathan more than anything in the world. Johnny Cage was just his persona that all of Hollywood knew, but in her arms, he was just Jonathan Carlton. He had no issue with it either. People described Johnny as a sarcastic actor who wanted all of the attention on him, but not in Y/N's eyes. In her eyes, Jonathan was a loving man who was nothing like what the people said.

Y/N still remembers the night they met. They met on Venice Blvd on a summer night which was lit up by the cars passing by and the street lights. Y/N wasn't at her best when they met. She felt like everyone was out to get her and life was treating her unfairly. She couldn't help but cry at the fact that her life was going downhill. Johnny saw her sitting on the sidewalk and felt like he needed to do somethin in order to cheer her up, or get to the bottom of why she was so upset.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Y/N heard a deep voice ask her. Y/N looked over her shoulder and saw a handsome man that she recognized.

"Oh... I know you. You're Johnny Cage," she smiled a bit "My little brother loves your movies." Johnny smiled at the recognition, but he ignored his pride and ego to make sure the woman in front of him was okay.

"Are you okay?" he gently asked her.

"Oh, I'm fine. Thank you." She said while wiping a tear away, but she wasn't fine and Johnny knew this.

"Well, if you were fine, you wouldn't be sitting alone on the sidewalk, crying at night," he sat next to her and took a good look at her face. She was gorgeous. Johnny was taken aback by how stunning she was. Even though her face was full of tears, slightly puffy lips, and she was feeling very vulnerable, she still looked like an angel according to Johnny. "Come on pretty lady," he commented "hit me. What's up?"

Y/N looked at him and realized that he actually wanted to listen to her. She looked down at the road in front of her and couldn't get her reasoning for feeling miserable. She managed to say one vowel before breaking down crying. Y/N was never good at expressing her bad emotions. Especially sadness. Before she can say anything while she's crying, her throat closes up and her mind just keeps telling her to cry.

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows, feeling concerned and bad for her. He gently guided her head on his shoulder and let her cry it out. It was the least he could do. He knew he couldn't force her to tell him what was wrong.

From that day forward, was a beautiful, blossoming relationship. Johnny would contact Y/N any way he could to get her to hang out with him and sometimes his friends. Y/N only liked hanging out with Johnny. She didn't like his friends. They were all so aggressive and she never understood why Johnny would hang out with people like them. Whenever Johnny and Y/N would hang out with his friends, she would watch them hit each other "playfully" and spew insults, while Johnny just watched and drank beers.

Throughout the whole relationship, Y/N was there for Johnny. No matter what he did, she was always there. When he would practice martial arts with someone, she was there to heal the wounds. When he was drunk after a party, she was there to help him sober up. When he was having any trouble, she was there for him. And that's one thing that Johnny always acknowledged.

Johnny admired how strong Y/N was. She was always there for him even if he managed to fuck up. He realized that Y/N was actually in love with him and not after his fame. For the first time in a good while, he had someone who was willing to be there for him. She wasn't like his ex who would point out his every flaw or his friends who would just mess around for the fun of it. She was a unique woman who managed to capture his heart.

Their relationship seemed perfect. Both Johnny and Y/N believed there was nothing in the world that would pull them apart! Which was what Y/N believed. When they hit their 3 year anniversary, that's when things started to go downhill. The more Johnny started to fuck up, the more tired Y/N was getting. She developed a bad habit of trying to make excuses for him. She hated it. She hated hearing him say "I'm sorry baby, I'll change for you." Every time he would say that, it was like nails to a chalkboard. Every time he would say that, she knew he was bullshitting. He never changed.

Y/N believed that his Johnny Cage persona was taking over. She didn't recognize her Jonathan Carlton. The same man who was there for her on Venice Blvd. He used to be so kind and welcoming to her. She never understood what happened to that man. Every time he would make her cry, she just wanted to disappear. From him, from herself, and from the world. Y/N believed that Johnny made her cry more than she cried when she was a kid. Every time he made her cry, she wondered what she did to deserve the treatment he was giving her.

'Is it me? Am I not pretty enough?'

'Is he talking to someone new?'

'Am I too possesive?'

'Is he tired of my jealousy?'

(Granted, Johnny never talked to any woman in any way. He never cheated on Y/N because he thought cheating were for weak and ugly people.)

Whenever Johnny found Y/N crying because of him, he would feel like complete shit. He hated making her feel that way, but he didn't understand why he kept unknowingly doing it.

When the relationship ended, it felt like both Y/N's and Johnny's world were crashing down. Johnny knew the day was gonna come, but he never knew when. He begged her to stay and try to remember all of the good times they had, but Y/N just wasn't having it. Johnny still remembers what she told him that made him realize it was all his fault.

"No, I'm done. For years I've been defending you not for the public, but for me. I would give myself multiple reasons not to be mad at you and try to figure out... everything, but all you did was make things worse! I'm tired and honestly, I've been tired. Of you, the fame, and everything. I tried to make things right with you and it seemed like you didn't want to."

What she told him on that day, will forever be engraved in his head. He lost the love of his life on that day.

Y/N didn't want to leave, but she had no choice. Even when she walked out those doors, she still loved him. Even though she was upset, she still wanted to run back into his arms for one last moment of comfort. But she held herself back, which she both hated and was proud of herself for.

What Y/N didn't know was when she was walking out of Johnny's life, she was entering a new one. She was pregnant with Johnny's baby and she didn't even know it, neither did he! When she did find out, part of her thought her life was ruined, but the other part thought this was a new start for her. She wanted to get rid of it but decided against doing so since she believed she would live to regret not taking advantage of the chance to become a mother.

When she had the baby, it was a living hell for her. She had family that helped her out, but the person that she needed was Johnny. She needed Johnny on her side, but she couldn't just show up on his doorstep randomly and give him the baby. She hated the fact that she still missed him. She let that hate consume her and pledged to do motherhood on her own without "that low-life Hollywood scum" in her life. Even though deep down, she knew she needed him back.

A few years forward, Y/N managed to get a beautiful home with her beautiful daughter and two adorable Siamese and Siberian cats. She was doing well in life. The new city she lived in was just as beautiful as Venice. She loved her life. She loved her daughter, she loved her cats, she loved her home, and she loved... her Johnny. Y/N accepted the fact that she will always love Johnny and in order to move on from her "hatred" she had to accept she had a life with him.

Every time she looked at her daughter, she saw a bit of Johnny in her. Which made her smile every time. From time to time, Y/N regrets the fact that she never tried to get in contact with Johnny to tell him about their daughter.

"Mommy, you got a letter!" D/N said. Her voice made Y/N snapped out of her thought bubble. She grabbed the letter and realized the handwriting on the envelope.

'No... is it really him?'

She grabbed a knife to open the envelope. Every second it took for her to open the letter, her heart began to pound harder. When she finally opened it, she felt like crying. It really was him.

'Dear Y/N, I know it's been years since we've even seen each other. A lot has changed since you've been gone. I went on this wild adventure that I'd love to tell you about someday. If you even want to meet up. The last time we spoke was a depressing day and I understand if there is still hard feelings there. Anyway, I got in contact with one of your cousins and they told me that you're now a mom! Congratulations! I asked about the father, but they wanted to keep that private which I understand. The only thing they told me was that he was out of your daughter's life. I hope you're doing well in life. If there is any trouble, don't be afraid to contact me (XXX-XXX-XXXX). There's so much that I want to discuss with you, but again if there are still hard feelings, I understand. I hope this letter reaches you. The last thing I want to tell you is that, no matter what happens, I will always be there for you.

Sincerely, Jonathan Carlton"

˖◛. *. ⋆ Vanilla Speaks

RUSHED ENDING WOMP WOMP

also I was too lazy to proof-read so, oops

im back i think... idk i'll write if i feel like it tbh

#mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #Mortal Kombat 1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader

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eimids · 1 year ago

Text

I am beautiful

Lucy Bronze x reader

Can I please request for smut where reader is really insecure about how they look because they’ve gained weight after Ed recovery and they don’t feel good enough for Lucy but Lucy shows reader how much she loves her. Thank you xx

That was the request

I might have made this based on my own experience :D

Warnings: smut, soft smut, so soft!!, but also a bit angst, bad body image and talk about ed (in the past) but everything is good at the end!! so soft smut and soft Lucy <3

Lucy was kissing your neck and tenderly holding your jaw. It was pleasure itself but you wanted more. You wanted Lucia to destroy you, eat you and fuck you till you couldn't move.

After the dinner with some of Lucy's teammates, where Lucy was teasing you the whole time, you finally got back to your apartment. The innocent kisses turned to needier and more passionate. You loved her soft lips on your body, devouring you.

Lucy's hands traveled down to the zipper of your dress. She easily slid the zipper down and stripped you of the stress. She admired her view. You almost naked body facing her. It was the most beautiful sight Lucy had ever seen. Every time she saw you like that she fell in love with you even more.

For you thought it was different. You were feeling bloated after the dinner and just overall uncomfortable in your own skin. You hated how bare you were and the eyes that were studying your whole body. It was weird having a bigger body than you were used to. Now you had an healthy body that didn't collapse after a bit of jogging. A body that was strong enough to finally not make you lose your hair and gave you your period back.

You loved being in recovery. You loved having control of your eating again. Now you could eat much more freely but it was hard. Every pound you gained and the new skin around your stomach was hard to accept. Lucy helped you always. Being there through the recovery process and always making sure you treated your body with the respect it deserved.

Lucy noticed your sudden hesitation. She noticed the way your body got tense. You even went as far as covered your stomach.

"hey, hey, hey what's going on?" Lucy asked. She was clearly worried that she did something wrong.

"I- just umm I don't feel so good" You lied. You didn't want to worry Lucia.

"Are you sure?" Lucy asked knowingly.

"I just- I don't feel good in my body. I fell bloated and too big. I look ugly and I just hate my body right now. I just- umm" You started but Lucy shut you up by kissing you.

"You don't talk like that about my beautiful girlfriend" Lucy stated.

"You, my love, are beautiful, kind, loving, gorgeous, amazing, and some many more things. But ugly and big aren't words that describe you. You are just perfect" Lucy said and kissed you between every word.

You loved how Lucy didn't care what your body looked like. You always thought that you weren't good enough for her because she was an athlete and in perfect fit. But that was far from the truth. Lucy adored you in every way possible.

"I want t worship your body. I want to show you just how beautiful you are if that's okay with you?" Lucy asked.

"Please" You murmured.

"Go lay on the bed" Lucy commanded. You obeyed her and went to lay down. You got comfortable on the bed, laying on the soft cushion. You looked at Lucy who was moving things around in the room. She had the mirror moved to closer to the bed so you had a good view on it from the bed. Lucy then went to grab a vibrator. You were exited for tonight.

"So pretty for me laying there. Such a good girl for be, so beautiful" You heard the voice of Lucy's it brought you back to the moment.

She straddled you and caressed your body at the same time. Her hands were touching every part of your body, lips founding their way to the tender skin of your neck and then your lips. Your mouth left an involuntary moan as she sucked your neck. A bit embarrassed about it but you kept going. Lucy's tongue left a stray of saliva in the valley of your boobs as she made her way to your lips.

"Mhmm, so good for me princess" She said between kissing you.

She turned around and made her way behind you. Now she was sitting and your back was laying on her chest.

"Look at yourself in the mirror" Now you understood the mirror placement. You did look at yourself. You saw a body that you almost didn't recognize but Lucy loved it. Your eyes didn't stay long in the mirror before you closed them, not wanting to see.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror baby, I'm gonna make you feel good if you keep looking at yourself" Lucy said. You needed the pleasure so you opened your eyes.

Lucy brought her fingers to your wet folds. Swirling them around and gathering the wetness. It wasn't what you needed but still brought you pleasure. When Lucy brought her fingers to your clit, you moaned. The pleasure of the sensitive bud was amazing. Lucy was also kissing your neck.

You closed your eyes in the pleasure and as soon as you did it, the movement stopped. "I told you, you gotta keep your eyes on yourself" Lucy said with a hoarse voice. You opened your eyes immediately.

This time Lucy brought the vibrator to your clit. She put it into the lowest setting, not enough to make you come, but enough to make you see stars.

"Oh Lucy, you make me feel so good baby" You moaned and with that Lucy put the vibrator a notch higher. Your body jumped with surprise but your moans kept coming. Soon enough Lucy's fingers found you wet pussy and pushed themselves in. It was once again an amazing feeling.

"You don't come until you tell me how beautiful, I need you to tell me that you know how gorgeous you are." Lucy said as you were getting closer to your orgasm.

"Lucy please let me come" You begged. You just wanted to feel your orgasm rush through you.

"Nope, I haven't heard the words 'I am beautiful' from your mouth yet princess" Lucy just said and kept her pace.

"Mhmm, I'm beautiful Lucy, please can I cum baby" You pleaded again.

"Say it like you mean it, look at yourself in the mirror and say the words" Lucy repeated herself.

You looked at yourself. You looked the body that was bringing you all this pleasure. Half a year ago you didn't have the energy for this kind of activities. You looked at the body that was now healthy and it looked beautiful.

"I'm beautiful Lucy, I'm so fucking beautiful" You cried as your orgasm took over you.

The pleasure waves came crashing over you and it felt never ending. It was blinding and you loved every second of it. You loved how your wife was making you feel, how well she knew your body.

"So so pretty for me princess, I love you so much and you've come so far in your recovery" Lucy praised you.

"Mhmm thank you Lucy" You moaned as the orgasm was over.

"You are so good for me baby, you are so pretty and I hope you know that. Your body is strong and so is your mind. I'm so proud of you" Lucy kept praising you.

She was all you needed in your life.

---

Kinda love this

#woso community #wlw post #woso fanfics #woso x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #smut #lucy bronze x reader

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melrosing · 7 months ago

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the thing that annoys me the most about the bullying claim among the stark sisters is that they talk about how much it affects Arya that she thinks she’s ugly and such and like she does, but she’s so much more worried about being “bad” she killed a boy. She’s also going through poverty and war and starving and being introduced to cults/bands of “justice” by murder

but nooooo she totally is more affected by being called horse face despite being compared to SOOOOOO MANY PRETTY PEOPLE AND THAT MEANS SHES GOOD (never mind that good looking=good person should NOT BE YOUR BASIS)

I think most people, and especially girls, know exactly how it feels to worry about your appearance and feel ugly and unattractive, and I get that this is a particular pain for Arya, who apparently has never been called pretty except by her dad one time in AGOT, in an offhanded comparison to her aunt Lyanna. I don't think attractiveness is the most important thing to validate in any child, but I do think that it is good and nice to affirm to your child that they have their own beauty, so that they can then negotiate their relationship with that word from a safer place in adulthood.

It's not about telling your child they don't look a certain way (e.g. no good telling Brienne she's a normal height and her nose is hardly crooked at all), but that the way they look is something unique to them and something they should take pride in, regardless of what others say. Like I think it's an OOC moment in the show, but I think it's sweet when Olenna tells Brienne she looks 'marvellous' or something. She's not saying 'you look like bella hadid', she's saying 'I love the way you look!' to a woman who has received nothing but insults (despite looking like fuckin. Gwendoline Christie lmao). that is nice. it's not the most important compliment anyone can receive, but it embraces divergence as positive.

as it goes though, Arya is a pretty girl and it's just weird that the adults found countless compliments for Sansa and none for Arya. and that's why I find it so bizarre that everyone wants to pin Arya's self-esteem issues on Sansa, a prepubescent child!! like, would Arya have taken these insults so hard if Cat had stepped in and said 'don't listen, you're a lovely girl and your father says you look just like your aunt Lyanna! sansa i am telling you off for calling people names'. children are always going to call each other mean names! it is one thing that is practically guaranteed to happen in any sibling relationship, and anyone who says otherwise is an only child or lying.

but it is much harder for a child to manage that hurt if they're getting called those names, and society seems to be reifying to truth of them at every turn! Septa Mordane is calling her ugly! Cat is calling her a mess! Ned has never complimented her till AGOT! etc! she has never received a compliment before! so how on earth can you say 'and Arya's self-esteem issues can all be traced back to the playground bickering between she and Sansa and Jeyne' when Arya is obviously getting the same message from what seem like far more authoritative sources! is it not worse that those sources are all complimenting Sansa all the time and never Arya? does that not make it worse when Sansa acts like a child about it? like!!

and yeah I agree that there are other more painful insecurities Arya is struggling with. I do think at least part of the reason that this argument keeps coming up in fandom is that people keep trying to claim that Arya's story is similar to Brienne's, in that she IS ugly according to society's standards and that's ok! which isn't true, Arya is canonically a pretty kid with a dirty face and unbrushed hair. that's all it is. so if we could just accept that, there'd be no excuse for the insistence that this is an important aspect of Arya's story.

because it isn't. like im sorry but the ugly duckling means nothing when there are plenty of people who don't grow up to be swans. they get called ugly as children, and they get called ugly as adults. look at Brienne: she has suffered far, far worse prejudice as a result of her appearance in childhood, and she doesn't get the catharsis of growing up pretty to show them all how wrong they were. Brienne has been treated like a fucking monster for how she looks, all of her life. this is a character for whom her appearance IS actually an important theme, and it will be meaningful to see her realise it's a strength, and find love etc. I'm sorry but Arya growing up to be beautiful doesn't mean shit to me lol. I fully accept it's canon, but it is not a meaningful story beat, in a story with people like Tyrion, Brienne and Sam. Arya's story has so many more fascinating themes about identity, trauma, justice, war, friendship and family. if Arya was pretty all along, why should I care?

#ask #asoiaf #arya stark

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mattoidmeerkat · 4 months ago

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Thinking about how Bobby in 2x01 didn't believe he deserved a second chance, let alone one with a woman as amazing as Athena, and when she told him she was ashamed of herself, him, and them all of his doubts were confirmed.

And he still doesn't really believe he deserves any of it by the end of 7x10 (judging by his conversation with Amir) even though his propensity for withholding the darkest parts of himself from Athena to protect her (but also to prevent her from walking away) is the cause of so much of their pain and heartaches.

I really hope in Season 8 we will finally see Bobby realize and accept that all Athena ever wanted was to know all of him and for him to understand that every bit she has uncovered over the years (the good, the bad, and the ugly) has only made her love him more and hold on tighter. Which is exactly what Bobby deserves. 🥺

#911 on ABC #Bathena #Bobby Nash #Athena Grant #yeah I'm in my feels this morning #what about it?#2x01 #7x10

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veronika-tserber · 2 years ago

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Natal SUN/PLUTO Aspects The Quest for Authenticity🕯️

Let me set the vibe, first.

It's a brand-new playlist, and I do accept recommendations!

The Sun in astrology is the archetypal King figure. It represents our consciousness, the pure awareness that I AM. Every planet has its own WILL, and the Sun’s will is to BE — to shine and express itself into the world. This is our personality and ego, but also our Life Force, a.k.a Spirit. When we look at the Sun and its aspects/house placement, we see what gives us a sense of fulfillment and purpose in life.

On the other hand, Pluto is the Lord of the Underworld, the Sorcerer hidden away from the light. It’s a generational planet that helps us heal and evolve spiritually by putting us in critical situations. Similarly to Uranus and Neptune, Pluto is an Outcast , a Divergent— the opposite of the widely accepted and adored King. I personally imagine him as a Quasimodo-looking character, but make no mistake. Pluto is immensely powerful.

When these two unite, it’s uncomfortable for both. Pluto feels exposed, and it desperately wants to hide away from the light, whereas the Sun feels like it’s been covered with a thick cloak of darkness.

The Aspect is Most Potent if:

it’s within 5 degrees (those are the orbs that I’m using)

it’s APPLYING instead of SEPARATING

it's a conjunction, square, opposition, quincunx, or quintile (harmonious aspects are usually less intense, especially the Trine)

SUN/PLUTO NOTES

📌 This is a highly karmic aspect - especially karma from their father or paternal side of the family. They are essentially breaking the taboos and secrets their ancestors couldn't didn't dare to speak about and confront. These people are the ILLUMINATORS who shift their family's paradigm around heavier, darker topics. They don't have to dig for any familial secrets, though. If they do their personal shadow work, they will break the chains of karma for all past and future generations.

📌They might become socially powerful and be known for their power/sexuality/mystery/criminal activity or occult/healing abilities. They could also become self-obsessed, or obsessed with their goals and desire to be known.

📌The Sun represents a woman's ideal husband, which is why in a woman's chart, this aspect can be really dangerous. She might be unconsciously attracted to (and even marry) abusive, controlling, really DARK individuals. They will mirror, and take to an extreme, her own unintegrated Shadow and/or unresolved daddy issues.

📌You might know these people for a long time, and not actually know them. Some of them have IMPENETRABLE defenses. When they do let someone in, they are terrified of being truly seen - with their good, bad, and ugly sides. This vulnerability is the cave they fear to enter, but it holds the treasure they seek. Deep down, they DO want to be seen and accepted as they are. But they most likely won't get that love from another person until they learn to love themselves unconditionally, first. They have to stop trying to run away and hide from themselves (or their father).

📌 Their father, and specifically his relationship to his Shadow, and the darker aspects of life, played a big role in the formation of their personality, and how they view themselves.

There are three scenarios here - 1) he was either a PUNISHER of the shadows (could've literally worked as a policeman, for example); he was an EXPLORER (psychologist, investigator) or he was a HEALER - occultist, energy worker, etc.

These are three levels of consciousness. If he punished the shadows - his and the world's - the more shame and guilt he could've projected onto his child(ren). These people might feel as if he's always monitoring their steps, and they can't hide anything from him - especially their mistakes or anything "taboo". If they were heavily judged or punished, they will grow up feeling guilty and ashamed of a very big part of what makes them human.

This affects how they view themselves - they can either see themselves as a Divine Child, with both the Yin and Yang, light and dark within or as a Beast, some sort of a Devil responsible for all the evil in the world.

They should know that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with them and EVERYTHING to do with their father's own degree of self-acceptance and wholeness.

Nonetheless, their relationship with him is/was intense, and there might've been a lot of power struggles involved.

📌These people are MAGNETIC in a way people can't explain. Even if they aren't traditionally "beautiful" or "attractive", they just draw others in. Powerful presence and aura.

📌 It might take them some time to realize the power hidden in their shadows. They are destined to become Alchemists, but how easily or quickly this will happen depends on their free will and desire to separate themselves from their father's projections/expectations.

The task here is to become SELF-AWARE. They can use a myriad of tools - therapy, meditation, yoga, energy healing, somatic work, OR ART to channel their Shadow and integrate it into their consciousness.

📌 During their lives, they are often called to the gates of the Underworld. They learn how to enter it fearlessly, and how to listen to the voice within. This process of illumination (Sun) will help them transform their subconscious mind (Pluto), and when they emerge from this metaphorical Underworld, their work and expression in the world will have a different quality, richness, and potency to it. This is how they step into their power and leadership - by making peace with the demons of the past.

📌 Introverted or extroverted? Both. It mostly depends on the specific aspect, but also on other placements. We know that Mars is Pluto's lower octave. So, in their early life, some of them might be quite extroverted, focused on worldly ambitions, and even be less selective about the people they let in their close circle. As they age though, their focus turns inwards. They can progressively become more introverted, self-reflective, and their goals/values can dramatically shift. As their vibration goes up, they go from being the Warrior to being The Wizard.

📌 If they don’t work to reclaim their power and express themselves truthfully and unapologetically in the world, they can become jealous and bitter. They can lurk behind the scenes of life, and try to sabotage those who do what they want to do, or they might try to destroy themselves. Depression is possible, as well as suicide attempts and risky behavior.

Pluto wants them to kill something about themselves, which is most likely their cowardice/pride/vanity/past conditioning. But not their physical selves. It's never about the physical, although it can feel this way. These people will either feed the Collective Shadow or help heal it. When they do the latter, they become potent forces of transformation for other people, as well.

📌 Life wants them to be humbler. They can carry a lot of pride and might try to appear as perfect and "spotless" as possible. They might be afraid of their reputation being destroyed or bruised in some way.

📌They are on a Quest for Love. When they learn how to forgive themselves and others, their HEARTS will open, and the light of the Sun will shine through. They can become truly unconditionally loving, and they have to start with themselves, first.

📌 Pluto is connected to our Divine Feminine energy (although it's not a feminine planet) a.k.a Kundalini. So, these people need to learn how to SURRENDER to the Divine. This is a major lesson, so for a good portion of their life, they might feel tempted to gain power through CONTROL and domination, but this will only worsen their karma.

As they will understand, the only real power is the power of Truth and Unconditional Love.

- Foxbörn

The Ask Box is open for specific questions, folks! 😊

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ 1

ᴄʜᴀʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ

ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʏ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ?

#sun square pluto #sun conjunct pluto #astrology notes #astro notes #astro observations #pluto aspects #sun aspects #sun pluto aspects #astrology #natal chart #birth chart #sun quintile pluto #sun opposition pluto #zodiac #sun pluto #astro community #Spotify

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linkspooky · 2 months ago

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Hey, since you said it was fine to send asks, and it will take me a while to comment the recent chapters, I'm taking this as my chance to proclaim my love for Li. Like go off lil' one, act as an abused child lashing out instead of the miniature saint your sibling described.

Jokes aside, I guess she's based on the popular fanon interpretation of Azula as a 'psychopath'? After seeing your post about Lio, I'm really curious about what went in her creation, and can't wait to see how she is in present day and how she will interact with Azula and the Gang. If she's still alive. Especially because I don't really take Azula's visions as gospel truth, but neither Lio's tales so I really want to see if the real Li swings more on one side or the other or if both versions are true at the same time.

Kudos for making such interesting OCs and intricate plots!

Thank you so much for the ask! Your comments gives me so much motivation to write.

I'm glad you like Li, here's some concept art from @oakyvii of the siblings Li and Lio. You are one hundred percent correct that Li is just fandom Azula.

Specifically the tendency of people to try to armchair diagnose Azula with some form of aspd or sociopathy in order to invalidate the abuse she faced as a child and how it played a role in shaping who she is. The popular "Azula sets turtleducks on fire" headcanon that's not substantiated in the show whatsoever.

The way that these bad faith interpretations want to use Azula's mental illness as a sign of some sort of internal wrongness in her. Proof she was always bad from the beginning, because as a child she was a little bit off-putting and demonstrated low empathy.

One of my biggest objectives with this blog is deconstructing "Good Victim / Bad Victim." I believe the origin is a lot of those armchair diagnosis of Azula is that people want to downplay Azula's victimhood in comparison to Zuko's. Instead of making Azula and Zuko both victims who react differently to the same abuse because they are different people, and there's no right way to react to the abuse Azula was just a psychopath all along. People want to make Azula into a mini-ozai who was like that from the beginning.

It sort of runs contrary to the whole idea of Zuko's redemption arc, because instead of Zuko having to work hard to be a better person every day of his life. To make this narrative that Zuko was innately good all along, just misguided and Azula was a sociopath who lit turlteducks on fire at the age of eight. Zu

Good and Bad Victim is bad because it assigns moral values for how people react to trauma, and usually the people who are assigning that value are people who've never been under the same trauma. Therefore it creates this expectation that people have to endure pain with saintlike in patience. If you're a victim the moral thing to do is to shut up and take it, and definitely do not make a fuss for any one else. Good victims can only express their victimhood is socially acceptable and easy to understand waysTM otherwise they're not worthy of human empathy.

This rant is pertinent to Zuko and Azula, because while Zuko does sometimes react to his trauma in ugly and violent ways he's still pretty easy for the audience to empathize with. In the first season he's incredibly incompetent at being evil. Even in season one when he's a straight up antagonist he's part of a charming comedy duo with Uncle Iroh. Zuko can be angry and violent and treat his Uncle and crew poorly, but he never like kicks puppies onscreen or anything. He's marked as the brooding, byronic character, but he's no Heathcliff. He's not even really Spike or Sasuke, he doesn't hurt a beloved character. He never does permanent irreversible harm to a named character. Even Catra from SPOP helps kills Glimmer's mom.

Compare to Azula who in her second episode burns the net underneath Ty Lee tight rope for daring to say no. Ty Lee is someone who both the audience considers a friend and the audience likes, so Azula's treatment of her is incredibly hard to swallow.

Even if you look at the way Zuko is when he's young, in Zuko alone he's made out to be a classic underdog, a soft, put-upon young boy who's desperate to impress his father. Whereas in the same episode people diagnose Azula as a born sociopath because she at eight years old, is already acting like daddy's little child soldier. Nevermind that Zuko, Azula and Ursa all laugh at the burning of Ba Sing Se together. It's easy to empathize with Zuko being a sad, underdog who wants his father's love. It's a bit harder to wrap your head around Azula's disturbing unchildlike behavior even if she's a product of her environment too.

That's actually what I liked about Toya's character in MHA. That Toya is the bad victim of the Todoroki family. That he's incredibly unlikable. He's not a big brother who secretly cares about his younger siblings all along. He's a selfish monster that demands his father's love and will do anything to get it. He was considered the problem maker in his house as a kid, he made a fuss and made things worse even though everyone was telling him to shut up. He yelled at his mother and didn't sympathize with her as much as Shoto did. He was in too much pain to notice everyone else in the house was suffering too.

(That's actually what I like about the Zuko and Azula sibling dynamic too, that Zuko isn't a magically forgiving big brother, that he holds a grudge about Ozai and Azula's treatment, that it's messy on his end even post character development).

This is why I introduced Li into the story, to make a character out of "Fandom Azula" or the way people want to characterize Azula as a sociopath so they don't have to acknowledge her victimhood.

There's one more character Li is based off of, or two more characters really. You could say that Li is based off of fandom Katara. That the fandom has a tendency to simplify women into either wholesome or toxic, nurturing figures or poisonous women. Li is partially based off of that heartbreaking line where Sokka says (I'm paraphrasing) "I can't even remember what my mom's face looks like, I just remember Katara."

Or rather, my idea for Li came from the concept of what if someone was forced into the role of playing mother to take care of the emotional needs of someone else and they got sick of it. What if the emotional labor of having to care for your brother, when you're still a child yourself exhausted you, took everything from you until there was nothing left. Like the darkest possible interpretation for Katara having to step up and parent her brother when their mother died and Bato left for the war.

The reason why Lio is so overprotective and emotinoally dependent on Li, is that Li is practically the one who raised Lio in the place of their missing mother. Li is a parentified child, and all of her problems stem from being a first born daughter expected to be a mother to a brother who's only two years younger than her. Li is also much worse off than Lio since she's illegitimate in court, but she's always had to suppress her own feelings and push her feelings aside in order to take care of her brother's feelings first.

Lio and Li's relationship is a direct mirror for Zuko and Azula's. Both Zuko and Lio don't see their sisters as people. Zuko swings wildly between demonizing his sister as the bad one because she's always had Ozai's favor and he sees Azula as an extension of Ozai's abuse and also putting her on a pedestal for her talent and envying her for it. Whereas Lio pedestalizes their sister as well, by making her out to be a perfect saint. Lio seems to love their sister more, but neither of them seem to see their sisters as fully realized human beings separate from themselves. Lio doesn't even mention Li's name when they're ranting at Zuko, they just call Li "my sister" because that's all they see Li as. An extension of themself.

Li is based off of one more character and that's Tsumiki Fushiguro from Jujutsu Kaisen. If you haven't read Tsumiki is the big sister of one of the main characters. Despite protecting her being Megumi Fushiguro's main motivation, she literally never appears onscreen once, she only ever appears in her brother's flashbacks, and then is brutally butchered by the main villain and fridged for Megumi's character development.

I thought Tsumiki was a missed opportunity because we never got to learn who she was. Megumi put her on such a massive pedestal as his ideal of what a good person was, the person he lived to protect, but in the end she was just a sleeping beauty figure. It didn't matter who she was as a person to Megumi, she just needed to lay there in bed and be helpless so Megumi could continue to play fairytale knight.

I thought about what kind of effect would having your own brother put you on such a big pedestal have on you? What would Tsumiki think about her brother objectifying her? About her brother making the entire reason for his existence protecting her, but not really caring about who she is as a person?

So I decided it would be interesting if Tsumiki wasn't actually that good of a person at all. She never was, that was just Megumi's projection of her. What if he jsut wanted to make her into some like Madonna-like figure, or some pure princess in need of protecting? What if Tsumiki strangled cats when no one was looking? How lonely would it be for Tsumiki if she knew her brother loved her very deeply but the person he loved, wasn't her?

That's basically where the original concept of Li came from. That eventually morphed into making Li into Fandom Azula. She sets turtleducks on fire and strangles cats when nobody's looking. Not only is she a joke about fandom Azula, but she also in story foils Azula by being the monster that everyone thinks Azula is.

Azula tries so hard to deny her own humanity, but Li is just that way naturally. Azula can't go all the way into making herself a weapon, because she isn't Li. She's torn up and broken on the inside because she does feel guilt and know on some level she was wrong. She probably wouldn't have had her mental breakdown if she wasn't capable of feeling guilt like she is. Ursa in confronting Azula in the mirror also points out Azula knows that the way she treated Mai and Ty Lee by trying to control them with fear was wrong, Azula just wont' admit it.

Other people see Azula as Li. Azula tries to be cold and unfeeling like Li, but when faced with the real deal she finds Li to be incredibly disturbing. o the point where eight year old Azula, who was a little bully and good at getting her friends and her brother to do anything she wanted doesn't know what to do with Li. Li's just too offputting to her once she reveals her true nature, she's an unfeeling, dead, thing and Azula doesn't want to be like that.

So yes, Li is fandom Azula. She's just genuinely a sociopath. Now the challenge is to make you guys like her even if she's just a flat sociopath, and I hope I succeed!

#azula #avatar fanfic #katara #atla #avatar

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natasha-in-space · 7 months ago

Text

All Good Things Must End

Ray/gn!reader;

From the beginning, you trusted Ray with all your heart. He was the embodiment of your fairytale dream come to life. Your respite from all the unappealing troubles of the outside world. But all fairytales have an ending to them. And yours is not as happy as you expected.

CW: brief mention of violence, erratic behavior, depiction of a codependent relationship. This is a Danger Ray fic! Set during V's route. Loosely based on the 7th day outgoing call to V (11:51 AM, after the 'Provoke' chatroom).

Lovely dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

Ray was a good man. A kind man. A fragile man, even. His entire appearance would remind you of a beautiful but delicate flower. So starved for love and warmth, yet so sensitive to every harsh touch of the wind, even the slightest of pushes against its soft petals would make it start to wilt. A flower that needed nothing but some gentle care and love for it to come into bloom. And, of course, you were willing to give him just that. After all, why wouldn't you be? Ray has been nothing but kind and caring towards you, ever since you stepped foot into this strange place, guiding you along the way while holding your hand and not minding any of your clumsy mistakes. He was understanding. Attentive. Curious. Always checking in with you and eager to hear about your day. Never ignoring you or making you feel stupid if you didn't understand a thing or two.

No wonder you found it so easy to open up to him in your short time here. You trusted that he would do no wrong by you. Just as he promised.

At least... that's what you thought. And appearances can be deceiving. Oh, so very deceiving. Now, it felt downright humiliating just how much of a blind fool you really were. How stupidly determined you were to deny and rebuke anyone daring to challenge your views on Ray.

You loyally refused to trust Rika's musings about Ray's 'darkness' during your brief stay with her, dismissing them as nothing but her twisted philosophy that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. You impulsively denied V's numerous warnings not to trust in Ray's sugary words, reassuring yourself over and over again that surely his affections for you must be true and earnest. You turned your back on every nagging suspicion buzzing at the back of your mind during short moments of unrest. You knew in your heart that Ray was a kind, tender boy. He was simply confined to an environment that would exacerbate his worst traits.

And he was only human, right? No one is immune to harmful outside influences being forced down upon them. Anyone could end up in his place one day, even you. It was no reason for you to be hostile and distrustful of him.

Then again, maybe that was just your mind trying desperately to keep you calm in the midst of a horrible storm you found yourself being forcibly thrust into. After all, accepting just how truly bad and out of your control things truly were here... How utterly helpless and vulnerable you were, with no one there to come save you if you needed it... How trapped and isolated you were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of lush mountain forests, with no civilization in sight...

Just the thought of it would make a heavy lump of acidic bile rise up to your throat. The sad truth is... Ray simply provided you with feelings of solace and comfort that some deeper, weaker part of you was so desperate for. Losing that was something you were not ready to face yet. He was there by your side from day one. He had a better understanding of you than anyone else did. Of course you would cling to his familiar presence for this brief feeling of stability you yearned for so gravely.

In retrospect, it was always a losing battle for you to try and win. You could have done better. You really, really could have done so much better. Yet it still hit you harder than a sledgehammer to the back of your skull, when the bitter reality has finally reared its ugly head to you, without any regard for your fragile heart.

You resent yourself for hitting that call button despite your gut screaming at you not to. You were already well aware that you would regret doing that, somewhere on the back of your mind. But, in the moment, your worry for your friend overpowered your lingering anxiety. Maybe out of some sense of duty. V made it all the way here, just to save you. You played a big role in his capture, in a way. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be in danger. And not knowing a single thing about his whereabouts or even his state was... daunting.

So, you dialed his phone number.

You anticipated that he wouldn't pick up. Maybe you would receive a very brief phone call with him begging you to keep yourself safe, like he always would. Or even just a quick exchange of words between you two that would maybe give you even the tiniest of clues on his whereabouts. Something you could then relay to Seven. Make yourself useful. Actually do something, instead of just sitting there and driving yourself mad with dozens upon dozens of anxious thoughts clouding your mind.

What you received was worse than you could have ever imagined.

It was one thing to hear pained groans, gasps, and raspy coughing on the other end of the line. You already had an expectation that V would not be okay when you hear his voice. It still left your knees feeling weak and your heart lurching in your chest with a dizzying intensity, but you could handle that, to an extent. What you couldn't handle was also hearing a familiar soft-spoken voice that has become an unstated but undeniable source of comfort for you. A voice that was now sounding so cold and angry, that your brain had a hard time comprehending what was happening, seemingly shutting down completely, as you remained deathly quiet for the whole duration of that cursed call.

Ray just was not supposed to be there.

You have heard him get angry before. You have heard him lose his grip on reality before. You have heard him say things you couldn't truly agree with, despite you still going along with them regardless, to avoid causing him any disturbance. Those were all aspects of him you were not blind to. You just actively chose to overlook them whenever they would come up. Something that you probably shouldn't have done.

-But you never heard him be so downright cruel and vicious before. Seemingly not at all disturbed by the very real sounds of suffering from the other living person there with him. Even getting angrier at them.

Like it was something completely normal. Not at all worth getting upset or worried over.

You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that this was the same man that worried himself sick over you simply scraping a knee. He was so caring, so empathetic to you back then... over a small cut, of all things. And now, that very same man was not at all disturbed by such grave suffering happening right in front of him.

No, by the sounds of it... he was actively causing it.

And that's not something you could live in peace with.

The call lasted for a maximum of two minutes. That's the time that your phone would display to you whenever you mindlessly return to it, anyway. But it felt way longer than that. For those two horrible minutes, your ears were ruthlessly subjected to the merciless reality you were so desperate to avoid facing up until that very moment.

The bitter truth was that Ray is not a fragile flower. Nor is he a prince from a fairytale. For, fairytales are not reality. No matter how much you want them to be. He was a man, a human being, just like you. Just like every other person in this building. And much like any human being, he was more than capable of causing harm by his own two hands if he so chooses. In fact, he would do so purposefully. And a victim of his spiraling wrath was no longer some faceless unlucky believer that you could forget about in a matter of hours, despite you genuinely feeling bad for them. No, it was your friend. A friend who fought so desperately to save you, even at the cost of his own safety. A friend you have come to care for in the short time you have known each other.

A friend, you knew for sure didn't deserve to be suffering in the way that he was. By the hands of your other friend you cared for just as deeply.

Such reality was just too cruel for you to bear.

So, you do the most foolish thing of all.

You confront Ray head-on.

"-Y/N, you must be confused... I've done no wrong. I do admit that I... did loose myself for a moment there, but- but it was his own fault! If he just kept quiet and drank the elixir like my Savior has instructed, I wouldn't get so upset with him. And he kept saying his stupid lies... He wouldn't shut up. My head hurt so bad... You have no idea."

You are left feeling sick to your very core by the soft apologetic smile reflected on Ray's face, once you do have a chance to finally face him again. No matter what you say, how hard you try to show him how wrong and cruel his actions really were, it was all completely pointless. For someone so seemingly skittish and subservient, Ray was frustratingly stubborn in his beliefs. It was like throwing a tennis ball at a wall. The more force you put into your throw to get your point across, the harder it just bounces right back into your face, leaving you with the painful sting of your failure.

You shake your head, an ugly mess of emotions steadily clouding your sense of judgment. At some point, you lose track of your location and position. All caution goes out the window. All that remains is a debilitating feeling of betrayal, clutching at your insides like metal rods slowly puncturing your very heart. "It is still wrong, Ray! How can you not see that!? He was suffering, and you just- just-"

The words don't come out of your mouth, obstructed by the suffocating lump stuck in the middle of your throat. You were going in circles now. You have been trying to get through to him for almost ten minutes straight, and still no results. You have to take a moment to try and regain your breathing. A soft glowed hand rests gently upon your chin, causing you to tilt your head to meet Ray's gaze instead.

You are disgusted by the genuine concern etched onto his delicate features. By the unfeigned emotions of nothing but genuine care and affection swimming in his eyes as he looks at you. By the tender touch warming up your clammy skin. All of it is sincere. You know he is not lying to you. Not right now, at least. And that is a sickening realization to come to.

More than anything, you are disgusted by the simple fact that you cannot perceive him as a monster or an angel. Ray is no perfect prince from a fairytale, no matter how hard he may try and appear to you as such.

He's a human.

Just like you.

And this implies that he is capable of all the atrocities that any human being is capable of. As much as he is kind to you, he can also be cruel to others. As much as his hands soothe and tremble when they brush up against yours, they can also hurt and sully those he harbors hatred for. It's not all black and white, as you would like to delude yourself into thinking.

And his actions were truly appalling to you. You couldn't live in your fantasy world anymore. It was sullied. Destroyed beyond repair. Your Wonderland has been corrupted from the start, and you just denied each and every sign of it, until it was too late.

"My prince/ss... It pains me to see you in such distress. Though, your tender heart is another trait of you that I adore," Ray whispers to you softly, his thumb lightly brushing over your cheekbone. He was touching you so gently, it's almost like you were made out of glass. And yet, just a few hours earlier, these exact hands were causing so much suffering to someone you care so deeply about. The thought prompts you to swallow hard and clutch your hands together as they start to shake. He continues, seemingly undisturbed by your lack of a positive response. "-But believe me when I say that that villain is not deserving of your compassion. He tried to take you away from me... To ruin what you and I have built together. I cannot stand by and watch him do that to us. What if you got hurt because of him? I would never forgive myself, if that were to happen."

You shut your eyes, refusing to accept the reality unfolding before you. Everything was wrong. So very wrong. One part of you wanted to scream and shout at him, to make him see the twisted nature of his words by pure unrelenting force if you have to. But there was another part of you that contemplated just giving up and concluding this interaction altogether. The debilitating feeling of helplessness was just too much for you to handle.

You are not allowed to do either of those things, however. Instead, another hand lightly rests on the small of your back, pulling you in towards the source of your distress. And you don't fight it. You feel your forehead come in contact with Ray's chest, his flowery scent filling your senses, as both of his arms are now circling around you. You hear a happy sigh fall from his lips. It all seemed like a very cruel joke on you. A moment that seemed so sweet and touching, bringing you nothing but more hurt and anguish.

Did he really not see anything amiss with any of this?

"I missed you so much, my flower... You know, when I heard that liar try and talk to me like he knew you better than I do, I felt like I might just strangle him right then and there. Make sure he never utters your lovely name ever again." Ray's voice is slightly gruff from how quiet it is against the side of your head. A low hum vibrates in his throat as he nuzzles into your hair like an affectionate cat would, breathing in your scent with all the longing you could possibly ask for. Though, the only thing that comes from his affections is a sickening feeling of dread for you.

"-But I thought of you. I thought of your lovely smile... Your eyes, your voice. I know I shouldn't think like this, but... You gave me more strength than my Savior's words ever did. What I did... I did for you. For us, Y/N." He continues, taking a step back from the hug to look at you. Your gaze is cast low, as you don't reciprocate the gesture. You can't bring yourself to look at him right now. It's hard to even keep yourself from putting your hands over your ears to avoid hearing it all. He gently tilts your head up, however, making it clear that he wants you to look at him. "Please don't be upset... It breaks my heart to see you sad because of that villain."

That's when the dam inside of you finally shatters, all repressed emotions spilling out in a violent wave of hopelessness you cannot bring yourself to stop. You wrench yourself away from Ray's arms, your own hands now clenched into tight fists as you look him directly in the eyes. There's a fire burning ever hotter inside of your chest, and you make no attempt to put it out. You let it take over you completely, consequences be damned.

"Villain?Villain!? Ray, he did all he could to save me! And you locked him up and tortured him for that!"

Your mind is screaming at you to stop. To stop and fix things before they spiral too out of your control.

You're being too aggressive. Too blunt. Too disobedient. Staying safe requires you to be both calm and smart about this. And you are neither of those things right now.

But you don't care.

Even as you see the emotions in Ray's eyes shift from that suffocating affection to a mix of desperation and frustration you know well. He makes a step towards you. You make two steps back. This makes his brows furrow in what you could only assume was dissatisfaction.

You never backed away from him before.

"Save you...? No. No. Y/N, he tried to steal you from me. Poison you with his lies, like he has done to my Savior. He did it to me, too! I'm the one who saved you. I did what had to be done to protect you!" You can actively hear his voice changing from the shaky disbelief at your denial of him to rough desperation to prove you wrong. It's borderline scary how quick those changes are occurring right in front of your eyes. Almost in a blink of an eye. It's yet another blaring warning for you to stop.

One that you ignore.

Instead, your frustration boils up inside of you, making you sneer at his stubborn refusal to see reason: "By hurting him!? By making him choke and gag in pain? What was the point of-"

Your angry line of thought is instantaneously interrupted by a small yeep that slips past your lips, as Ray closes in on you in just a couple of quick steps, grabbing at your wrists with a tight grip. Tight enough to cause you some discomfort. His eyes are wide, and his breathing is noticeably shaky. Like he's fighting to get enough air into his lungs and failing miserably. He yanks you close, making you stumble into him without much time for you to struggle or push back against him. Mostly due to your state of pure disbelief. You never expected Ray to actually do anything to you. And while he wasn't actively hurting you, this was still shattering your perception of him to bits and pieces. Or, what remained of it.

"That was nothing, Y/N. He deserved all of that. He deserved that and more. You feel sad for him? You wish mercy on him?" You are suddenly pushed back against the wall, and Ray's slim form keeps you trapped in this makeshift cage you created for yourself with your reckless actions. Ray's voice grows shakier, yet also significantly lower. It sounded dangerous. Angry. His nose brushes up against yours, as he's leaning so close to you, you can't focus on anything but him. Your breath hitches as you instinctively press yourself up against the wall, the panicked pounding of your heart echoing in your temples. "You have no idea how badly he hurt me. What pain I went through because of that- that-"

You can't help but wince in pain as his grip on you tightens. An action that seems to immediately shake Ray out of his temporary fit of anger, as he gasps and quickly lets go of you, stumbling backwards with a frightened expression painted over his features. You don't even have to look at him to know that he is probably in a less than stable state of mind. You are left staggered, betrayed and confused, as you stand there, eyes cast low, rubbing at your wrists. They didn't hurt. Not much, at least. It's the psychological aspect of it that left an impact of you.

Ray's voice feels muffled as it reaches your ears through the constant flow of thought in your head.

"I- N-No, Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't want to- Are you hurt?" You can see him taking a step back towards you, hand reaching out for yours, probably to check on your wrists. You can tell he's scared. And upset. Probably guilty. Which makes this even harder for you to grapple with.

Either way, you cut him off, not wanting to hear any more of this. Partially because you understand that staying to listen will only cause you to break further, if it was even possible at this point. Because he sounds so genuine, nervous, and miserable, it makes your heart ache for him despite yourself. Makes you want to look up, smile, and say that you're okay. That you two can figure it out together.

And you don't want to repeat the same mistake twice.

"Just... Leave, Ray." You mutter out quietly, not raising your eyes at him. You sound a bit too soft for your liking, but it'll do. Swallowing, you repeat yourself for good measure. "Please. Leave."

There is a prolonged pause between the two of you. It's almost too lengthy for comfort. Neither of you say anything for a while. But the tension in the air is thick, and it does not fade with time. It only grows. Crawling over you like snakes. There is a fear within you that prevents you from looking at him. A fear of seeing the pain in his eyes. Or, instead, to come face to face with that same anger that felt so alien to you.

Ray finally speaks up. His voice is barely audible.

"...N-No..."

He moves closer to you still. For the second time today, you are finding yourself backing away. But now, you turn your back on him and keep your hands locked where you can see them. You can feel them shaking. With a sigh, you repeat: "Leave."

And, as you soon learn, that was not a very wise choice for you to make.

You're quickly spun around before you can think to act, and Ray's fingers are digging into your shoulders with a disturbing intensity, leaving you little time to react. He's observing you as if you were a wounded animal that was left behind after being hit by a car. Like you're the saddest creature he had ever seen. And, for some reason, that look scares you more than the previous anger he showed you.

"I can't believe this..." He murmurs under his breath, his eyes darting over your figure, almost like he was searching for something physical on you that could be visible to the human eye. But he doesn't find it, and that seems to upset him further. You try to pull away from him, only to get jerked back in again, his hold on you tightening.

Only this time, he does not pay any attention to your visible discomfort. He was too occupied with his own thoughts that you were not aware of. It's like he doesn't even see you. Not fully, anyways.

He holds your chin and tilts your face to examine you more closely. As he does, his shaky breath sneaks over your cheek and causes you to shiver in place.

"He... He poisoned you, didn't he...?"

The hushed murmur sounds so utterly ridiculous that it almost makes you forget about the disturbing nature of this situation for a good moment. Yet, he was completely serious. And he wasn't even talking to you, by the looks of it.

"What? Ray, I-"

"-That's why you are saying all these things to me... That's why you don't trust me anymore." Ray cuts you off as if you were not there, his brows furrowing into a deep scowl, but not one aimed directly at you. One of his hands grips onto your chin, while the other finds your hand and takes it into his own, his fingers sliding between yours. He grasps it tight, in a hold that would feel reassuring, if it wasn't for the circumstances. "My Y/N wouldn't tell me to leave. I should've guessed..."

A shiver of fear runs down your spine. As your outburst of frustration subsides, you slowly start to realize the seriousness of this situation for you, as the fire of anger and betrayal subsides. Now you wish Ray was angry again. At least then he still listened to you. But how can you fix things when he doesn't even acknowledge you?

"-Don't worry," You are brought back to reality by a warm and assuring smile on Ray's face. One that only makes you feel nauseous. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, making your breath hitch. Staying there, he whispers onto your skin, like a secret promise only for your ears to hear. "I will fix it, my prince/ss. I shouldn't have been away from you for this long in the first place... My Savior is far too busy to give you the care and attention you need. But now, I'm here. And I'm not leaving your side again. I promise. I'll make sure you are smiling again."

He does not let go of you again. While your fairytale might have been broken, his has only begun its story. And his happily ever after is not something he will give up on. Even if you did.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #ray choi #choi ray #mystic messenger ray #saeran choi #ray x reader #saeran x reader #i am spraying him from a water bottle because he's being a bad kitty #but uh #anyways #i love his more dangerous side in v's route #the scene with him torturing v is one i don't see many talk about #also he's a bit more erratic here #not as premeditated as danger ray is usually portrayed #i read through and listened to his bad endings and his overall behavior #and it's a thing i am very fascinated by #how quick he is to lose his composure and act out in a way he feels guilty for moments after #or how quick he is to switch #from the panicked desperation to complete delusion #and i feel like once that switch happens #you're done #you're just done #he won't listen to you #he's too stuck in his own head #it happens during the another story bad ending #and it somewhat happens in his bad ending during v's route #he's very possessive or you and - subsequently - his fairytale reality

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