#and while it was cool i couldn't justify that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mythalism · 2 months ago

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It struck me how profoundly uninterested the writers ultimately were in modern elves and elven culture. After 4 games, Origins is still the only one to offer up any info on them (with 2 adding certain tidbits) & it really hit me how colored their view is by their indigenous coding such that the elves aren't really shown to have any kind of society/civilization when compared to the dwarves 4 example, a people on the brink of extinction facing an almost perpetual Blight, yet still not solely defined by their struggle against the darkspawn. I don't mean to pit them against each other, but once I made the comparison I couldn't unsee it. We're challenged to show respect and learn about their customs & history as soon as we enter Orzammar and u cannot gain their aid until u fully engage with & submit to their political demands (Halamshiral wishes it had what Orzammar has!), your only influence is who comes out on top, and even that is a decision that has to be made by really getting a feel of their society and their different wants & needs, depending on caste & political allegiances. Whereas u can stroll into the Dalish camp and nothing stops u from only tackling the main quest, which is saving them from their curse (which turns out to be saving them from themselves<-a clue that'll become relevant later) by ideally convincing Zathrian to kill himself, an elf whose Hatred of Humans has gone too far (however justified his thirst for vengeance is) so he can be succeeded by Lanaya, a city-born elf who, despite being kidnapped as a child and kept as a slave, bears no grudge against humans. I'd be more forgiving if this wouldn't set the tone for their portrayal in subsequent games & didn't turn into 1 of 2 major(&only!) themes they cared to explore wrt elves. This obsession w/ elves not being agreeable enough can already be seen in the conversations u can have in their camp where at least 3 NPCs apologise for not being friendlier and I guess to make up for this cardinal sin all the side-quests (2 conv+2 fetch-quests) reward u with cool loot ranging from prized possessions to priceless artifacts, & the fact that u can get your hands on 2 valuable books on elven history teaches us early on that with minimal effort, any part of their history, no matter how sacred, becomes available for consumption. It seems important to add that both books can be given to the Mad Hermit who says he's gonna wipe his ass with them (this also reminds me of when Marethari gifts Hawke the Somniari book for no reason & it gets added directly to your trash pile). Which brings me to the other big theme: elven history is not for elves to explore and reclaim (&any attempt is dangerous+must be punished). While dwarves are allowed to be stewards of their own history&culture, and their pursuit of reclaiming thaigs & lost history (&their deep respect & attachment to that history) is generally presented as noble, elves are afforded no such dignity. I never realised the discrepancy, but from the start you have no choice but to take a dwarf with u when exploring the Deep Roads, whether that's Oghren, Shale, Valta or Varric, you are a partner & a guest, and, while u may help them in their journey of discovery, they always retain sovereignty. The only equivalent would be us getting an autistic Dalish girlie w/ a special interest in elvhen history whenever they feel like expanding the lore, using them as a vehicle for that, then punishing them for their 'overzealous' interest in their own past.

Velanna lucks out by virtue of being a dlc char & becoming a Warden, but she's still presented as being too into the elfy stuff even for her own clan, with the final straw that leads to her expulsion being wanting to get revenge on the humans who tried to burn their clan alive & took her sister(or so she thought). I appreciate that she's not shamed for her interest in elvhen history, but it's telling that the focus is on how misguided her quest for avenging her people is, with even her clan, when u meet them, still blaming her for her sister's fate & saying they're better off without her (interesting that Justice also disapproves, while at the same time berating Anders for not 'striking a blow against his oppressors, so they can do this to no one else', but apparently Velanna should atone to her oppressors and 'teach them'). Her best ending slide also has her warming to humankind & saving a whole village of them, as if that was our primary concern/her biggest problem to overcome, not making peace with her sister's fate.

Speaking of learning lessons, Merrill gets taught a harsh one, and while u can be supportive of her, you cannot escape this lesson, whatever u do: it is the height of hubris for elves to try and reclaim their past (or think they have a right to it), only humans can safely do it. Another ostracized First, one may be fooled into thinking the objection to Merrill is only the blood magic thing, but her first quest makes it clear the question u r being asked isn't is she right to use blood magic or should she limit herself to safer methods, but does she have a right to her People's history? It's so explicit that Merrill invokes that very right, vir sulevanan, in order to get the Arulin'Holm, a tool 'as old as Arlathan itself', only, after performing the service to her clan asked of her, Marethari hands YOU this artifact that'd been in their possession since before the fall of the Dales and tasks u with holding her heritage hostage!! And instead of her being disqualified from being Keeper ever again, you're left to interview Merrill to see if she deserves smth that belongs to her & u can choose to keep it from her! Why?? Marethari could've just not given it to her. Ofc, this all comes to a head in Pride's End where Merrill is yet again denied agency by her Keeper, & worse still, that baton is passed directly to you after her death, with u having to accept your paternalistic role or else slaughter her entire clan bc they don't accept any other answer than u taking full responsibility for Merrill. And, if u still need it drilled into u what this is really about, her rivalry path culminates, not in her disavowing blood magic forever, but in smashing her eluvian. Her friendship path also makes me uncomfortable, the conclusion being her clan are too backwards to ever get it, but at least she's free to chart her own course now. Set by you, ofc. You have the final say now, remember? Still, this is the last time the Dalish are a faction with any sort of agency. Maybe that's why you can wipe them out both times.

In Inq, sadly, they're relegated to a brief stop on the map on the way to saving their colonizers, a formality in order to gain access to their ruins, 1 of their warriors, & have the pleasure of picking the Dales clean without all that pesky white guilt! They even call the quest A Dalish Perspective when you're still viewing them thru a settler's lens; they're a problem to be solved, a list of complaints, they have no interiority, no ambient dialogue & the only lines they have are strictly quest related. They also pay the ultimate price for trying to reclaim their history, their deaths as inevitable as your success in safely claiming them. Twice Inquisition asks u: isn't their history safer, then, in the Chantry's hands? Morrigan's whole spiel fits here, too, ofc, as a human mage who argues her (stolen)knowledge gives her more of a right to the Well than any Dalish could hope to have. I also find it sad that in JoH, you discover Ameridan, & instead of getting to talk to his surviving clan, the only conclusion to his quest is this: it's the elves' fault the Dales fell.

All of this to say, the conclusion 2 Bellara's arc doesn't come out of nowhere when you consider it a culmination of this throughline. You finally get to answer once and for all: do elves deserve to recover their lost history? At least you can say yes.

10/10 no notes. only thing i have to add is how interesting it is that the devs had an inkling of awareness of how harmful their writing of the elves was in previous games - epler mentioned how they took the criticism of how you can kill an entire dalish clan in every single game into consideration with veilguard.... and the conclusion was that...... "the elves had their time to shine"? and they should be relegated to basically set dressing in the background of a story revolving entirely around their own history and religion? and told "get over it. just move on." instead of just... portraying them with more nuance, sensitivity and empathy? maybe hiring some more diverse writers? a sensitivity reader/editor? or just ignore the problem entirely........ there is no war in ba sing se..... there is no elven oppression in thedas....

#veilguard critical #asks #meta

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01zfan · 2 months ago

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bad friend: bestfriend’s sister

brothers bestfriend!sungchan x reader | 5.3k words

well...you guys know i couldn't end it without sungchan getting his lick back.

contains: eunseok and sungchan are in a war that hasn't been vocally waged, sungchan is kind of a manipulator, reader is semi-innocent, some sort of tension between sungchan and eunseok that neither of them acknowledge

bad friend: AITA

Sungchan was disappointed that it took him so long to figure out what to do. After he read Eunseok’s Reddit post he had to think, picking at the peeling skin of the vinyl seat he was in.

He sat in the seat of the cafe closer to their apartment basking in rage while his bestfriend was unaffected. Eunseok barely looked up from his laptop, Sungchan imagined his friend was editing the post as he sat right across from him. He could see Eunseok mouthing words, repeating phrases back to himself before he could hear backspacing on his computer and some more typing. Sungchan felt his friend’s eyes occasionally lift to look at him, and when he would catch his eyes Eunseok would snap right back to his screen.

Sungchan could feel the atmosphere around them change, until Eunseok couldn’t bare it anymore and closed his laptop. Sungchan stared at the logo of Eunseok's laptop, thinking about the post that his friend was working on only moments ago.

“Are you ready to go back to the apartment?”

Eunseok hesitated with each movement. Sungchan was unbothered, stretching his back and arms until they rested on the vinyl seats again.

He couldn't lie and say he didn't enjoy seeing Eunseok uneasy from the tension. Asking about something as trivial as food left in their shared fridge made Eunseok finally drop that nonchalant act. The facade fell to show what Eunseok truly was, remorseful even if he tried to hide it and thinking about what he did to his alleged roommate and bestfriend.

Sungchan enjoyed seeing Eunseok uncomfortable, he hoped that it was guilt. Eunseok was so used to being the diplomat he didn’t know what to do when he was the one waging a war. Sungchan recalled the times Eunseok's easygoing attitude got him out of trouble while growing up. Eunseok asking Sungchan is it worth it? when he was about to lose his cool or telling him to calm down in that annoying monotone voice.

Sungchan could tell his friend didn’t know how to face a problem he created. Sungchan was sure the comments on whatever he was going to post would be telling him that he wasn’t the asshole. That's what losers on the Internet did. They convened in the dark corners, circle jerking and letting eachother know that even at their lowest they're justified. There would be someone like Sungchan, well adjusted and socialized telling him he should come clean. That he should tell Sungchan that he slept with his girlfriend. Sungchan even gave him the perfect segue into the conversation. All he had to do was come clean about the leftover food in the fridge. Sungchan would even let Eunseok lie, he could tell Sungchan that you came onto him, and he couldn't deny you. He could spare Sungchan the details because he read them already, he could just say that he wanted you to feel better.

Sungchan looked from the barista behind the counter back to Eunseok. He was taking too long to slip his laptop into the secure place in his backpack.

“My sister is coming over later today, by the way.” Eunseok was still looking into his backpack, speaking to it quietly. “Some mail still ends up going to my parents house for some reason. So she’s bringing it to me. She might bring some food too.” He added.

Food was always the olive branch extended between the two of them. When Sungchan was invited to that birthday party in elementary school and Eunseok wasn't he brought him vegetable dumplings from the convenience store. When Eunseok beat Sungchan at the schools spelling bee they ate samgyeopsal until Sungchan thought his stomach would explode. Food was always how they silently told eachother the other went too far without directly saying it, and each time it worked. The resentment that built up over the twenty years of friendship was in no way related to the fact they never actually talked about their problems. That was something that couldn't be explained, or maybe Eunseok could ask a fucking sub-reddit about it.

But what was important was that Eunseok was offering another olive branch. Although Eunseok nodded his head, Sungchan barely listened to the rest of Eunseok’s mumble, they were going to be even. Eunseok was talking about the mail that ended up at his parents house, or something about the coffee here, but Sungchan couldn't be bothered. Revenge walked into his lap, mentioned candidly while Eunseok tried hard to push past the uneasy feeling in his heart.

When Eunseok finally looked up from his backpack to look at Sungchan, he had already honed his emotions and changed the expression on his face to something neutral.

“I didn’t know your sister was coming over.” Sungchan tried remembering what you were doing with your life now. Your brother rarely mentioned you for some reason. You were just a contact on Eunseok’s phone that would call when you had a question about your computer and an old contact photo in his family’s groupchat. “Is she back in town?” He asked.

After Sungchan asked his question Eunseok had the nerve to side eye him from his backpack. As if Eunseok wasn’t the one who fucked his bestfriends girlfriend then was going on the Internet to garner sympathy. He looked at Sungchan like he was the crazy one for asking about your life.

“Only for a month or so." Eunseok stood up from his recliner and Sungchan followed suit. "She's staying in town for a friend's wedding or something.”

Sungchan could tell that Eunseok really wanted to repeat what he told him all those years ago. Back when the three of you became young adults and Sungchan stopped looking at you like you were Eunseok’s little sister.

Eunseok caught on fast, but you were more like Sungchan when it came to hiding things. All cards were on the table, you couldn’t hide your adoration for your older brother's bestfriend.

In the beginning Eunseok and Sungchan just chalked it up to you wanting to know how boys had fun. When he would complain about you suddenly taking an interest in video games or action figures your mother always told Eunseok to let you play. When he was still young and hardheaded he would protest, saying you were a girl and his sister and he didn't want to play with you. But when you wouldn't budge and neither were his parents, Eunseok was forced to become indifferent.

He had to be indifferent about your presence because his parents would always take your side. Sometime during that, Eunseok became indifferent to you as a whole. He never wanted the responsibilities of an older brother so he nevver doted on you or was protective.

Sungchan noticed that you two never became close. Even when you got older and started to become your own person, Eunseok was unconcerned with what was going on in your life. Sungchan watched you both separately behave like only children, living under the same roof but never having conversations that went beyond telling the other that dinner was ready.

Eunseok would never admit that you were closer to Sungchan than you were to him, that you favored being around him. There are pictures of you hanging on the wall at Eunseok's parents' place. An old digital picture at Sungchan and Eunseok's soccer game, clinging to Sungchan instead of your brother. You were barely to his waist then, but your smile was bigger than the two of there's put together. You held onto him so tight it wrinkled his jersey. When you would call for your older brother it used to be in reference to Sungchan, when you wanted comfort you used to run past Eunseok right into Sungchan's arms. You used to complain about Sungchan having to go to his own house instead of spending another night at your place.

When the looks you started giving him became more obvious and turned to something different. Overnight you started hanging on every word Sungchan would say, batting your eyelashes and looking up at him. Eunseok and Sungchan still hung around after they graduated highschool and you were nearly done yourself. During that gap year you seemed to always be home, seniors in highschool always seemed to be everywhere else but school.

Eunseok was casual about it, he always was. He would only look between you and Sungchan's exchanges, nothing more than a scratch at the top of his head and everything else was forgotten. Sungchan knew that being an older brother was never something Eunseok strived to excel at, he remembered the casual confession from his friend that he never asked for a younger sibling. Eunseok described your existence as something that just happened one day, his parents went to the hospital and he was watched by his grandparents all day. Sungchan could even recall the day sometimes, how he was buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing a baby while his friend only shrugged his shoulders.

Eunseok was convinced that he had to still remain indifferent to you. But Sungchan could tell that it upset him to no end that he was bested at another thing. Even if something was irking Eunseok so deeply about whatever was blossoming he refused to let it show. The idea of Eunseok truly not caring upset Sungchan even more. He was too stoic.

Eunseok’s calm demeanor regarding you pissed Sungchan off. If he had a sister and he caught wind of mutual attraction he would’ve forbid Eunseok from coming over before it ever turned into whatever your stares at him had become. But Eunseok was a sleazy older brother, nonchalant and more concerned with video games and anime than being protective of you. Then Eunseok went as far to accuse Sungchan of liking you because he cared more about where you were going dressed the way you were. Sungchan was the one asking if you needed to be picked up later, if your parents knew what you were doing. Eunseok would only ask more questions to follow his friends lead, side-eyeing your conversation he was pushed out of. Eunseok would have to clear his throat to get the focus back on him, and then he would finally try being an older brother. But it was obvious he was only doing it for show.

He thinks to this day Eunseok never truly cared about protecting you when he gave Sungchan the rule, he just wanted to stand between another thing Sungchan was good at.

Eunseok was casual about it, paying more attention to the game than Sungchan. Sungchan stopped playing entirely, he could feel the controller vibrate in his hand with each hit he was taking. Eunseok didn’t look towards him once. He bit his lip in concentration from pressing the buttons at the right time, leaning back like the game was fair as Sungchan lost. Eunseok watched his character rip out the spine of Sungchan’s character in a gruesome way while the announcer called out the fatality.

You had to have picked up on the rule. The dynamic between Sungchan and Eunseok changed that night and Sungchan knew you noticed, He gave you more credit than Eunseok ever did, even if you conflated things and blew them out of proportion. You thought that it was funny to call them boyfriends, and you said they were always in competition with eachother. Your commentary on their relationship was one of the things that pushed Eunseok to get his own place, because he couldn’t get rid of you but to his dismay he couldn’t get rid of Sungchan either. So that night only after Eunseok won a game over Sungchan, he told him two things.

He was getting his own apartment but he needed a roommate.

Sungchan absolutely could not, under any circumstance, fuck his sister.

When you’d come around looking for Eunseok but find Sungchan you still had that look of adoration in your eyes, but Sungchan had respect for his friend. He avoided you, looked past you, would end up gone each time you came around. He knew you were looking for him, because he wasn’t stupid and you were more like your brother than you would ever know. When you stopped coming around after they moved in together Sungchan knew you knew he was purposefully making himself scarce. He also knew that Eunseok would feign benevolence each time, and would’ve just shrugged his shoulders if you asked where he was.

Sungchan convinced himself that all was fair in the car ride back to the apartment. Eunseok was the one who waged the war, and the way you always looked at Sungchan was reminiscent of something tender. Maybe not love but blind adoration. A childhood crush that was never requited. Sungchan knew the crush was still fresh for you, because you still asked where he was each time he came around. He knew it still bothered Eunseok because he would always avoid giving you a straight answer. Sungchan would just have to be there to tell you himself.

Sungchan and Eunseok spent another quiet night on separate ends of their couch, watching a television show neither of them liked. The episodes dragged on after they were finished eating. It was obvious both of them were focused on other things. Eunseok’s leg was permanently restless, and Sungchan had his head balanced on his hand while the other picked at the couch.

Your knock on the door gave Eunseok an excuse to call it a night, he got up too quick and paused the television show too fast. Sungchan lingered on the couch. When Eunseok’s back faced him he fixed his appearance, making sure his shirt fell just right and his hair looked nice, that he wasn’t getting the life drained out of him by boring television and his boring roommate. He made sure the hair you always used to pull at when you were younger looked fluffy, and the shoulders you used to hang off of when Eunseok didn’t want to play with you looked broad.

Instead of going back into his room when Eunseok opened the door for you Sungchan stayed right there, he even leaned forward to come into your line of sight. Sungchan watched you try focusing on your brother before you looked over his shoulder, then he watched Eunseok follow your line of sight until he grabbed the mail from your hands.

“Is that it?” Eunseok spoke loudly but you still didn’t look at him. Watching him try to be a big brother after all this time was amusing. Sungchan hoped he saw the way your eyes still focused on him, how you spoke to Eunseok but stayed looking at Sungchan on the couch. “Mom found some of your clothes laying around and she made me bring that too. She also made me bring food because she knows you guys are eating only eating takeout.”

“She made food for me too?” Sungchan asked.

He got up from the couch, and he watched you two focus on him. You two were too easy to fluster. Eunseok narrowed his eyes and you nodded your head mindlessly.

“Of course, she loves you.” Eunseok turned back towards you, because his mom rarely said something so heartfelt. Like Sungchan hadn’t been there a majority of Eunseok’s childhood to see it first hand, he watched you take your shake your head and quickly motion between him and Eunseok. “She loves you both. She loves you both and the food is in my car.”

Before Eunseok could reluctantly offer to help you, Sungchan was clearing the apartment and sliding on Eunseok’s crocs. He took his friends small shoes and crammed his feet in them, knowing those were things Eunseok had chided him for in the past.

Sungchan didn’t close the door in Eunseok’s face. He let him see the way your expression lit up, he let him see the way he looked down at you with a smile. He wanted Eunseok to bask in it, he wanted you to ignore him when he insisted he could help you instead. He let Eunseok’s thoughts ferment in the entryway and wonder what you two were talking about while he scrambled around the apartment for another pair of his shoes. When Eunseok finally made it down the stairs to the parking lot Sungchan let him see the moment you put your number in his phone before realizing he was there, and he let Eunseok see the way you tried to act inconspicuous about the whole thing.

The following weeks, Sungchan played you and your brother. Eunseok’s guilt made it easy. Eunseok knew that Sungchan was texting you because he didn’t try to hide it. He saw your name pop up on his phone screen, he saw the way you came around everyday. Eunseok suddenly had a million things waiting for him at his parents place, and you were the only one who could bring it by. Eunseok didn’t press the issue further because he didn’t know how to be a good big brother after years of pretending you didn’t exist, and he didn’t know how to be a good friend after fucking Sungchan’s ex. He just watched and waited, question on the tip of his tongue when Sungchan would tell him he would be bringing company over at night.

Eunseok did try to catch him in the act once. In the middle of the night after Eunseok came back from what Sungchan assumed to be another visit to his ex he heard him come through the door. Almost instantly when the front door close Sungchan let himself get louder, letting go of his bitten lip to let the smallest sounds slip through the walls. Sungchan had the biggest room but it was right by the entryway, he could hear Eunseok’s loud steps stop right by his closed door. Sungchan ignored the quiet knocks, instead getting louder and squeezing his hand tighter.

When Eunseok opened the door, Sungchan jolted in his bed. He pretended like he didn’t hear Eunseok the past week try to subtly drops hints about how he was too loud late at night. He watched his friend’s expression shift from triumph of catching him in the act to pure horror when he realized it was Sungchan in his room by himself.

After Sungchan told him to get out, he had to worry about Eunseok’s presence alot less. Guilt from walking in on his roommate masturbating tacked on with the guilt of fucking his ex-girlfriend made Eunseok disappear all together. He was doing things on his own throughout the day and turned the sound up on his headset late at night. When Sungchan would come out to grab something from the common area Eunseok would duck away no matter what he was doing. Food was left on the table and the fridge was practically left open, the only trace of him being there was the glow from his headset and the sound of his door closing.

Eunseok unfortunately made himself too hidden. Sungchan realized after the fact that he foolishly pushed his bestfriend past his limit, turning him into a complete hermit. When Sungchan started sneaking you into the apartment Eunseok never got the chance to get a glimpse of you. The first night you were in Sungchan’s room and your body was leaned against his shoulder the only thing Sungchan was paying attention to was the sound of his friend coming out of his room. Both you and Sungchan sat on the edge of his bed facing the door, his fingers deep inside of you. You made him promise to lock the door but you two still managed to end up there, practically on display just waiting for the door to open. The anticipation made it so Sungchan couldn't look away even if he wanted to. He didn’t take his eyes away from the door, he still looked at the handle when he'd turn his head ever so often to plant a distracted kiss on your lips. You were no better, not even paying attention to what was going on beyond the walls of Sungchan's bedroom. You still held your sounds back then, the same way Eunseok always held back his, so worried about your unknowing brother who did not care.

The second time you got too loud. Sungchan was thinking about other things, like what was going on beyond the wall he shared and you were distracting him. You called him by the nickname Eunseok gave him mockingly, telling jinsu to go faster and that you were so close. He had you bent over the dresser that was against their shared wall, and he had to finally clasp a large hand over your mouth. By the end of that night you were sucking on his fingers, and moved to the center of his bed and pushed down to a pathetic position on your stomach. Sungchan had to wrap a hand underneath your waist to keep you up.

Sungchan found out you were weak just like Eunseok too. No endurance, no sports you stayed involved in. There was a pattern between the two of you that was never brought up, where you two started in sports but developed a liking for indoor activities instead. There was a time where Eunseok played sports with Sungchan, then overnight his friend ditched him for anime and video games. You went down the same path, you were just able to cover it up with makeup and making friends. When Eunseok became a recluse you became a social butterfly, a homebody that was ironically out every weekend. Sungchan told himself he could never bring this up because how much you hated being compared to your brother, and Eunseok spent most of his days forgetting he even had a sister.

You were also low maintenance just like your brother. The pretty hair and expensive clothes were just for show. The spoiled princess accusations Eunseok used to say under his breath passing was false. The concept of someone wanting something and vocalizing it was just so foreign to Eunseok he assumed you were rotten. If anything it was Sungchan who was spoiled. You came running with just a text, ditching your friends and any plans just to sneak into his apartment. The only thing you asked was if your brother would be there. That didn’t seem to bother you too much, because Sungchan said maybe and you still were at his door with an overnight bag tucked underneath your arm.

When he opened the door you came right into his arms. Like the day you went without seeing him was a century, you buried your head deep in his chest and breathed him in. You smelled like Eunseok but sweeter, as if he was drowned in rose and vanilla.

“I missed you.” You whispered it when you pressed the side of your face into Sungchan’s chest. Sungchan felt you squeeze him tighter and play with the bottom of his shirt. He hummed and rubbed your back, easing out that tension in your shoulders.

He didn’t know someone in your family could be so vulnerable. He had known Eunseok for years and there were still walls he didn’t bother to break down anymore. He let his friend be mysterious and he let your parents be passive. You treated Sungchan like a gift because he let you be vulnerable, even if he only responded with i know or it’s okay.

Sungchan almost felt bad for what he was doing. Even in the dark entryway he could see that look in your eye. Always like a lost puppy, seemingly becoming even more innocent in debauched circumstances. Eunseok was going to come home at some point, Sungchan knew that. He knew that you were going to make noise that would bleed through the cracks in his doors and the thin walls. He had to clasp a hand over your mouth anytime he had you like this, or push your face into the mattress until you got the hint. Being vulnerable came with being loud, a bumbling mess with tears welling in your eyes and broken words falling from your lips. You looked like a puppy and you sounded like one too, whimpering and drooling while you wasted all your energy.

But that wasn’t his view just yet. You were kneeling on his bed for him right now, left in your underwear and a camisole as you looked up to him. Sungchan was still fully clothed, looking down at the way your thighs pressed together the more you leaned back to try and settle yourself. He brought his hand up to your face, already knowing you’d eagerly move to put your chin in the palm of his hand.

“You’re too cute.” A pitiful exhale fans his palm. Your eyes manage to get even more watery, almost twinkling as you look up at him. He almost feels bad for what he’s doing. “Do you know how cute you are?” He asks.

You shake your head, and Sungchan is grateful for Eunseok being a terrible brother. Sungchan even feels gratitude in his heart for Eunseok being a terrible friend. If those things hadn’t happened, and Eunseok hadn’t made that post Sungchan would’ve never been here. Caressing your chin, feeling you give all your free will to him. You were malleable, made in Sungchan’s image after a little less than two weeks. His hands crafted you into whatever you were becoming. The power was intoxicating, because even he had no idea what you were molding into. Submissive, eager to please, reaching for something you didn’t know how to handle.

“Do you think your brother is an asshole?” Sungchan’s hand underneath your chin tilted your head up to him. Your pretty eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Sungchan tried not to laugh at tripping you up. He remained serious, tilting your head even further up. “Do you think he’s a bad person?” He asked.

He gave you the smallest amount of authority when you started messing with his belt. He let his hands fall to his sides and he overcompensated your strength, letting your shaking hands pull his hips towards you. Sungchan sighed at the thought of you being dominant. He knew you didn’t have it in you. Your avoidance of responsibility made Sungchan relinquishing power hard. Even if it was for your benefit, even if it was all a show the second sigh he let out was smug. His hands went to resting at his hips as yours became more hesitant.

You didn’t take well to being in charge. You didn’t take well to questions you didn’t know how to answer. You don’t know your brother, even if you grew up in the same house and had so much in common. Sungchan almost wants to tell you about the Reddit post, to let you know how truly sleazy your older brother is. But if he was honest he’d have to tell you that’s the reason why you two are in this room when there’s only a wall separating you from your brother’s room. Almost immediately your hands started to falter, the thought of disapproval from Sungchan made you fix your gaze on his stomach instead. You pulled his belt tighter instead of pulling it loose. You were more like your brother than either of you would ever know. Sungchan knew your palms were lining with sweat, the same way Eunseok would get whenever he knew he wasn’t doing something perfectly. Your face was hot to the touch, he could feel it when his hand went back to your chin.

“You’re really too cute.” Sungchan said again.

He notices that you two both have the same habit of denying compliments when you first receive them. Eunseok looks to the side while you slowly shake your head. Sungchan manually nods your head with his fingers holding your chin.

You and Eunseok were meant to be lead by someone like Sungchan. The self-proclaimed brains to his brawn. One couldn’t exist without the other, no matter how miserable the other had become. That’s why Eunseok fucked his ex. That’s why he was about to fuck you. Eunseok would eventually find out about you two, if he didn’t already know he would figure out by the clothes Sungchan would strategically leave laying around in the common area. He could tell you were going to make noise for him tonight. Eunseok was still up around this time, the banging on his wall and the sound of things falling would keep him awake.

Sungchan watches your hands go back to your thighs, resting in a clenched fist. Everything about you was made to please Sungchan. From his favorite color on your underwear to your shirt that was a size to small. You gave him everything, the little bow on your waistband like you were his gift. He should feel terrible for doing this. Breaking the one stipulation his bestfriend gave him. But he waged the war, and this was fair. You didn’t mind, because you started digging your nails into your leg when Sungchan took too long undoing his belt. He kept you waiting, until his pants were at his ankles and you were watching him grab himself over his boxers.

“Turn around for me baby.” He said.

You were better at listening to him than Eunseok. When Eunseok would’ve shaken his head or pretended not to hear him all together you were scurrying to the center of his mattress, turning around and sticking your ass in the air. Sungchan watched you let out out a pensive breath, settling into the arch he showed you the very first night. You were a faster learner than Eunseok too.

Sungchan took off his underwear and touched himself, knowing you wished you were the one doing it. The first night you told Sungchan a million times how much you thought of him, how you waited so long just for the chance to touch him. Sungchan let you remember while he slowly worked his hand up his length, the same way he did when Eunseok caught him all those weeks ago. He put on the condom slowly after he watched your shaky hands pull out the slimy latex. The top of the foil packaging was still between your teeth, only falling out when you let out another labored breath. Your head fell back to the mattress and Sungchan settled behind you, hands gripping your waist tight.

“Be loud tonight, okay?” Sungchan watched you preemptively bite your lip and look towards the shared wall. The occasional thud on the other side could be heard, the dull whirring of Eunseok talking into his microphone came through. Worry crossed your pretty eyes, you wiped your palms on Sungchan's comforter. Sungchan come clower to you, until he felt your frame give slightly underneath his. He focused on your big eyes and he pulled together his most sincere look. “Please? For me?” Sungchan asked.

That’s all it took for you to nod your head. You were easier than Eunseok, that was for certain. He pushed into you with ease because you were made for him, and you groaned loudly solely because he asked. Sungchan made sure you made noise for good reason, until you were rivaling with the creak in his mattress and his headboard bumping into the wall. He hoped that it rocked Eunseok’s computer setup, that his friends could hear it in their voice chat. The thought of it made Sungchan prop a leg up and pull your hips backwards to meet him. The thought made him make sounds of his own, until his throat become dry and his voice become hoarse. He was made for you too it seemed, because you squeezed him tight and your sweaty hand clasped around his perfectly.

He knew when you were getting close. He knows your brother so by extension he knows you too, and the same time you started forgetting about anyone else in the apartment he finally heard Eunseok’s door open. Sungchan heard the creak in the floorboards and then Eunseok's timid steps outside his door. Eunseok knocked just like he did the first night, and Sungchan wrapped his arms around your chest to bring you up from the bed to pull you against him. He let your sounds come out, the identity of who was crying obvious even to indifferent brothers. Eunseok didn’t knock again, he left the apartment completely and closed the front door so loud pictures on Sungchan’s wall shook. You shook in Sungchan's arms before you melted to his bed.

Sungchan broke the one rule Eunseok set for him. All is fair. Eunseok waged the war and Sungchan would end it. He wouldn't make a Reddit post about it, he would only leave the white sweater Eunseok bought for you on Christmas draped over the couch in their shared common area.

#seriez: bad friend #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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coff33andb00ks · 11 months ago

Text

Hopeless - LN

Lando Norris x fem!reader (mentions of Charles Leclerc x fem!reader) Summary: and you know damn well that for you, I would ruin myself a million little times Word count: 2012 Themes: angst, forbidden love(?) Song: can i be him by james arthur Warnings: cheating, charles is a bad boyfriend, cursing, Oscar knows everything, barely proofread, not a happy ending Notes: I watched one too many she chose me/did she? tiktoks and this was born. Also please don't take this as me condoning cheating (unless you can cheat with Lando).

Lando isn't one hundred percent sure how it began, not really. He remembers the first move, the bit of shock when you didn't reject him, but he doesn't remember how – or when or why – he fell for you. He knows he didn't just wake up one day saying to himself right today's the day I fall in love.

It all started so innocently. Right? He found out you liked gaming and casually invited you to his place to try out his setup when you mentioned you were looking to upgrade. He'd expected Charles to come with you but had shrugged it off, too excited to share his love for gaming. You stayed most of the afternoon, laughing and he'd had the tiniest of crushes by the time you left. And when you upgraded you asked him to come over to help you set it up.

Crush: intensified.

He's pretty sure he liked you so much because you didn't talk about racing with him. He could be "normal" around you, just like any other guy in his 20s who loved video games and driving fancy cars and blasting music. Soon he was dropping by or inviting you over on off days. He didn't think anything of it. You were a friend, and Charles obviously didn't mind, so why deny himself the pleasure of your company?

Crush: die-hard. To the point Max and Oscar teased him about it.

He likes you most in his apartment. On race weekends at a track you were calm, cool, and collected in designer brands, the picture perfect girlfriend of everyone's favorite Ferrari driver. But at his place, you were… Y/n. Yapping nonstop and dancing in his living room, curled up under a blanket on his sofa watching the latest period drama, in his kitchen baking treats he isnt' supposed to eat.

It was, he thought after hugging you goodbye one night, kind of like having a girlfriend without the stress.

He still dated. Casually. Because he couldn't justify putting all the time and effort into finding a girlfriend. It was so much easier to sleep around and be friends with you. Fucked up, yeah, but easier.

Then on an off weekend you showed up unannounced, looking like you wanted to cry.

And he would have done anything to keep that from happening.

"I just needed to get away," you said, and Lando nodded, letting you in and pretending the smell of your perfume didn't affect him.

You didn't want to talk about it and he didn't pressure you. He gave you the remote and fixed you a drink and parked himself on the other end of the sofa with his laptop to edit some photos while you found some old movie to put on.

"Lan?" you asked after a while.

"Hmm?" He didn't look away from his laptop.

"If Charles…" You sighed. "If he cheated on me you'd tell me wouldn't you?"

"Immediately," he said without hesitation. Then, as your words registered, he saved his progress and closed the laptop, slowly turning to look at you. "Do you think he's cheating?"

You shrugged, eyes firmly on the TV.

"Y/n. C'mon, talk to me." Lando set the laptop aside and picked up the remote to mute the TV.

"I'm just being stupid."

He waited, and then listened while you listed off the reasons you were considering that Charles was cheating. How he'd stayed out late the night before, had left early this morning for a last minute trip to the Ferrari factory. Facing you, he moved closer, until he could hold your hand. Then, when you finished, he rattled off the usual signs of cheating to see if anything matched.

You looked at him oddly. "Got a lot of experience with cheating?"

Lando giggled, as he always did when asked a stressful question. "What? Me? Nah."

"Fucking liar," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"No, no, I never lie when I'm fucking," he said, wondering why the words were coming out of his mouth before he finished saying them. Glancing upwards, he pinched his brows together. "Well, wait, maybe I have… Like when it's mediocre but you need to get off so you say it's good?"

You laughed, which was always his goal with you. He loved your laugh, adored the way you threw your head back, and always joined in as soon as the snort you despised escaped.

"Oh god Lan," you giggled, and moved to hug him.

And he knew he was a goner. Because you felt so good in his arms. He hugged you close. He knew the healing power of a good hug but also held onto you for more selfish reasons, committing the feel of you tucked so close to his memory, breathing in the scent of you. Easing his grip as you began to pull away, he felt his breath catch in his throat when you paused, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you," you whispered.

"You know I'm always here for you." He smiled. He liked that he could make you feel better. Then, because he couldn't help himself, he had to go and ruin everything. Reaching up, he lightly smoothed your cheek with his fingers. "If he is cheating, he's a fucking moron. You're not even my girl and I can't find anyone that compares."

He still can't remember how you'd initially reacted. Surprise, probably. Maybe a little shock. But he would forever remember the way you'd breathed his name, as though Lando were a prayer, and that you'd both leaned in at the same time.

And he was certain that until his last breath he would recall every detail of what had followed. The kiss, everything pure and perfect, your hands on his neck. Him pulling you closer, both of you moaning. It had been frantic, every shred of neediness and longing pouring from his mouth to yours, every late night dream running through his mind, each fantasy he'd allowed himself to think of coming true before he'd tasted your skin.

You stayed the night, and he'd discovered that you'd fantasized, too.

***

"You good mate?"

Lando blinks, seeing Oscar in the doorway. "Yeah," he lies, rolling his shoulders. "Just thinking of strats for tomorrow."

"You've been listening to the same song for almost an hour."

Fuck. "No I haven't." He pauses the song, rubbing the back of his neck and finally moving to finish dressing. "It's a good song."

"What's going on with you? You've been acting weird for a couple months now," Oscar says.

Lando swallows the shame. It's not that he feels guilty. He's content with the arrangement between you. Not that anything is set in stone, but it's an unspoken agreement. You're still with Charles – who, it turned out, was cheating but it was a minor fling – and he's single. Technically. In his heart, he's yours.

He almost laughs because it's so beyond fucked up now.

But he can't let anyone else find out. He's been around long enough to know that you'd be the one labeled as a whore. Even though everyone's aware of Charles' infidelity, it would be your fault. And Oscar…

For someone whose entire persona is I really don't give a fuck I'm here to race, the bastard knows everything. He's like a cat. He's always there, and even when he's not listening he soaks it all in like a sponge.

He spritzes a little more cologne on himself and pulls on his hoodie. "Dunno what you're talking about, mate."

"You haven't gone out to celebrate since Miami."

Of course he hasn't. Miami was the night he'd gotten just drunk enough to dance too close to you. The secretly snapped pictures of his face in your neck are still popping up on social media. "It gets old after a while, Osc."

Oscar folds his arms over his chest and leans in the doorway. "For me, yeah. For you? Not buying it."

Goddamn the sponge cat for being so observant. Lando shrugs, maintaining he façade of yep I'm good. "Osc—"

"Is it because of y/n?"

Ice water floods his veins. He can feel the blood draining from his face and his palms begin to sweat. You've both been so careful, Miami notwithstanding. He never takes you out, makes a point to not sit too close to you in a group setting, and is his so-called normal self anytime someone else is around. It's different alone, but – oh. "You mean in Miami?" he asks casually, fixing his necklace and lifting his foot to tie his shoe.

"You were weird about her before Miami."

Oh god. "It was just a stupid crush." He ties his other shoe and checks his pockets for his wallet and hotel key. "I'm over it now."

"Lando."

"What?" He practically snaps the word out and instantly regrets it, but he can't talk to Oscar about this. Oscar will never be able to understand. "Look, I gotta go, need to get rest for tomorrow."

"Oh. I thought… I guess you are over it." Oscar gives a tiny shrug.

Lando freezes. "Why are you talking in riddles?"

"You didn't see them fighting?"

He jerks his head to stare at his teammate. When he speaks, his voice nearly cracks. "Fighting?"

"Well, arguing. I don't know what about, I didn't catch any of it. I only saw him trying to talk to her and she shoved him and stormed off."

No wonder you haven't replied to his texts. His hand aches to pull out his phone and call you to check on you. To make sure you're okay. You and Charles don't fight often but Lando knows of your tendency to go and cry until you figure out a resolution. "What did they fight about?"

"I don't know."

Lando swallows anxiously, pulling out his phone and checking the time. "Where'd she go?"

"No clue."

"You're really no fucking help," Lando mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket and brushing past him to leave the room.

"Thought you were over it?" Oscar asks softly.

Lando freezes again, anguish twisting in his chest at the thought of ever being over you. "I… She's my friend. It's… Y/n… She's…"

"She's what?"

Everything but his. Real and true and more than he ever thought he could have. His daily sunshine and his nightly fantasy. The open ear when he's having a rough go, the tight embrace when he needs grounding. His source of peace and his greatest torment.

"Fucking hell, mate," Oscar whispers.

"I gotta go," Lando says.

And he leaves, not sure why he feels so anxious all of a sudden. Everything feels off. He tells himself it's because Oscar knows, or at least thinks he knows, and that's got to be the reason. He's fine. You're fine. Nothing's changing just because you had a fight with Charles. It'll blow over and by morning things will be as they have been.

The trip to the hotel seems to take forever and he's even more uneasy as he sits in traffic a few cars back from the valet. He should have gotten an Uber or caught a ride with someone. Despite the air conditioning going he's sweating, because you still haven't replied to his texts, and when he tries to call you it goes straight to voicemail.

Hey y/n, call me when you can?

But you don't.

He stays up late, hoping you'll at least send him a text letting him know you're okay. His sleep is restless, plagued with the worst possible scenarios. When his alarm goes off he hits snooze one too many times and so has to rush to the track, trying to push everything out of his mind as race time approaches. Checking social media so he can engage with the team posts hyping up his and Oscar's starting positions, he can only stare at the screen when Instagram loads.

You. And Charles. Cozied up like soulmates. There's candlelight and flowers.

But all he can stare at is the diamond on your finger. And, just beneath the photo, Charles' short caption.

She said yes.

*~end~*

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #my writings > ln

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flowerandblood · 6 months ago

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The Price of Pride (21/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the death of one of the characters, trauma, description of the battle and wounds, kissing, the angst, many things from Lady Royce's childhood presented in a different light ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

If your trust in me is dependent on your mood, it means that our marriage is a mere fiction without foundation, and I remain your slave.

Her words, despite trying to drown out his inner thoughts with wine, came back to him like a fly buzzing around his head. He was furious with her – no one had ever spoken to him like that before, not even his father or mother, let alone someone who was a stranger to him.

His inner envy and resentful, masculine pride assured him that he was doing the right thing by punishing her with the lack of his presence – he felt that his fears and words were completely justified, and she had become hysterical, as had often happened to women over the centuries.

He pressed his lips together, creating small, burning wounds around his nails with his thumb, picking at the cuticles around them as if he wanted to rip his skin down to the very flesh.

He preferred to think of how much she had enraged him rather than how he dreaded what was to come.

The Prince Regent could not be afraid – he was now the head of the entire Kingdom and could not hesitate, he repeated to himself, but his knee bounced in a nervous gesture anyway as he sat by the hearth, staring into the fire, unable to calm himself.

He hid his face in his hand, a quiet sigh on the verge of a groan left his throat at the thought that despite everything he would rather have her with him now.

She was able to reassure him: she knew exactly how to embrace him, stroke him, kiss him, what to say and when to say it.

An uncomfortable sting in his heart accompanied his conviction that her scent, her calm voice, her soft, gentle hands and her body in which he could hide was just what he needed.

He knew that after what she had said she had no intention of visiting him. He would have been willing to wait until dawn and let them both cool off, trying to reason with her again the next day, had it not been for the fact that he had no more time.

He was supposed to leave later that night, and she didn't know it.

Some part of him wanted to give in, to let go of his pride, his prejudices and go to her, to feel her once more, melting with her into one. He knew that although she certainly resented him, she would have allowed him to take her if he had been gentle: a condition of their momentary truce would have to be that he did not humiliate her, and their closeness would be an attempt at reconciliation, a proof of mutual tenderness and devotion.

But he knew that if he went to her, if he felt her, if he came inside her, his mask would crack: he would not be able to hide from her how terrified he was, or worse, he would burst out sobbing like a little boy.

He couldn't afford that, because then she would try to find out what had happened, and he would have to tell her.

So he could not go to her, which put him in a helpless position: he was not such a fool as to disregard the possibility that, after what was about to happen, she might never see him again.

Did she deserve for him to abandon her like this, without a word of explanation?

He thought for a long time, feeling the panic slowly rising within him, only to come up with an idea that seemed perfect after a while.

A letter.

He got up from his seat and took a piece of parchment, a quill and an inkwell from one of the wooden drawers, sitting down behind the wide oak table. He leaned over, dipped the tip of the quill into the ink and began to write, for the first time addressing words to someone in this way, without using official language or phrases.

Ñuha hāedar (my little sister), we part in anger and I sincerely regret it. Know that my intention was not to humiliate you or to undermine your loyalty to me, of which I have been certain for a long time. Perhaps I was unable, as is my custom, to find appropriate, more thoughtful words to describe my concerns, for which I ask your forgiveness. I set out to meet your father full of trepidation, hoping that you will also forgive me for not taking you with me, despite my promises. I cannot and do not want to risk your life. I have taken enough from you by force. Many things I have done to you in the past I now think of with shame. If I fall, bend the knee before your father and confess that I forced you to do everything. You have my blessing to do so. All I ask is that you keep in your heart the memory of me as your brother who truly loved you. I promise that wherever I find myself after death, I will be waiting for you there. Aōha lēkia (your big brother)

He swallowed hard, putting the quill down on the table top, feeling for some reason that his hands were shaking, his throat clenched, his heart pounding like mad, a burning sensation under his eyelids.

It was a farewell.

She said she could only see me and the child, but you were not with us.

She said she could only hear the sound of the water.

He closed his eye and leaned forward, feeling his whole body screaming for him to stay, for him not to do this.

What could Daemon do if he just didn't show up?

If he had mocked him and let him wait for something that would not come?

The whole of King's Landing would have found out that he hadn't attended the duel.

That their prince was a craven, a scared little boy, not a man.

He got up from his seat and rolled up the letter, tying it with a ribbon, then summoned his servant. The boy came in a moment later and bowed, clearly tired and half-conscious, surprised that he had expected his presence at such a late hour.

"Your Grace?"

"Prepare my armour. I'm setting off for patrol." He lied, extending a rolled-up piece of parchment towards him. "You will carry this to my wife in the morrow if I do not return."

The boy nodded, surprised, and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts. A moment later, he and the other man, whom he had apparently woken, walked into his chamber with all the parts of his armour.

He thought grimly, putting the chainmail on over his thick woollen tunic, that he had never worn it before – he had never taken part in knight's tournaments, considering it a childish matter that he did not care for.

However, when he felt its weight on his shoulders he regretted that he had never fought in it before.

Even moving his arm, not yet holding a sword in his hand, he felt that its weight would slow him down, that he would not be as skilful as he had been when sparring with Criston Cole.

The thought made him feel a cold sweat on his back.

He decided that all his hair should be tied back – his servants couldn't braid because they weren't women, so he didn't even try to ask them to do it, ordering them instead to simply tie it up with a black ribbon at the back of his head.

My wife would know how to do this, he thought regretfully, recalling in his memories her delicate fingers weaving strands of his hair together.

His armour was heavy, but it was the thought of him abandoning her in such a manner that weighed down on his heart.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he thought he looked like a prince from the legends, a great knight who was going to bravely face another powerful man. Though he believed it would be just the opposite, he recognised that there was no pride in it, no glory – just that he was flying to meet death in the form of his uncle, ready to commit kinslaying again.

But he couldn't take a step back, even though some part of him wanted so badly to be a coward.

To his displeasure, the commotion he caused in the middle of the night aroused the interest of Criston Cole, who was on watch at the time.

"My Prince. Can it really not wait until morn? What will you see in the darkness of the night?" He asked him, and he pressed his lips together, furious that he expected him to make an explanation.

"I won't sleep until I'm sure there's no danger lurking in the sky. I'll be back soon. Prepare me a rested horse." He ordered, turning again to the young stable boy, who merely nodded and ran out of his quarters.

Cole looked at him with a look of worry on his face that annoyed him.

"I know what you think of me, how much you despise me because of what I have done. I deserve this punishment, your rejection. I promise that, as I have done so far, I will bear it with dignity. But let me stand by you now that war is at our doorstep."

He felt an unpleasant constriction in his throat, a sting in his heart testifying to the fact that his betrayal was in fact the cause of his immense pain and unhappiness, the grief of losing someone he had considered his comrade and companion.

You cannot help me with what is to come, he thought inside his head.

"If you wish to regain my favour, watch at my wife's chamber until my return. I leave her in your care." He said coldly and sidestepped him, not wanting him to see in the gaze of his healthy eye the thing that made his whole body quiver.

Fear.

Following his order, his mount was already waiting for him when he stepped out into the courtyard of Harrenhal – he strapped his sword and helmet to its saddle, then jumped onto its back and slammed his feet into its sides, making the horse move ahead in a gallop.

The night was chilly, teasing his cheeks unpleasantly – Vhagar's liege was not far away, but some part of him longed for this journey to last for hours.

To postpone as much as possible what he was about to face.

His dragoness sensed his trepidation immediately – she awoke and lifted her head high, leaning towards him as he jumped off his horse, hitting his body with a hot breath of steam. He pressed his forehead against her hard, scratchy scales, feeling that it was just him and her now.

No one else.

"Emi naejot gaomagon ziry, ñuha jorrāelagon raqiros. Dohaeragon nyke. (We have to do it, my dear friend. Help me.)" He whispered, but he knew that some part of her understood him – she squawked loudly, as if to let him know that she was ready.

The blood and fire of Old Valyria flowed through her veins again, just as it had in the days of her greatest battles.

He sighed heavily and moved towards the long ropes hanging down the sides of her great body, wondering how he was supposed to climb with such a weight on her back. He grabbed one and pulled, figuring he may have had enough strength in his arms to do so, when he heard the clatter of hooves in the distance.

He turned around, startled, sure that it was Cole who had moved after him, but froze, seeing her silhouette clearly in the moonlight.

She was breathing loudly through her mouth, her hair tied up in a braid, unruly strands stuck to her cheeks moist with sweat from exertion.

She only jumped off the back of her mare when she was right in front of him, and then she rushed at him, swinging her hand as if she wanted to slap him in the face – involuntarily he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, her body slamming into his with a loud clang of steel.

"You fucking bastard! How dare you leave me behind!" She shouted in his face in a breaking, childish voice, her doe eyes red from tears, her dark eyebrows arched in pain and grief.

He, however, simply stared at her, unable to believe that she was standing in front of him.

She followed him.

His wife.

He kissed her – fear and uncertainty had robbed him of the ability to speak, so he showed what he felt with this caress, aggressive and sticky, full of their tongues, saliva and teeth.

She moaned furiously into his mouth, but did not push him away – quite the opposite, they embraced each other tightly, devouring each other in this violent, loud act of union, her closeness, her scent, her fingers clenched in his hair tender and familiar.

His body's reaction was immediate, as if he had fallen into some kind of euphoria.

His erection was so hard that it caused him pain.

"My armour got unpleasantly tight. Right here." He breathed out into her throat, rubbing his hips against her stomach, feeling the discomfort between his thighs, trying to find any outlet for the tension that was building in his manhood.

He thought with his cock, as he didn't want to remind himself of what he was about to do.

She, however, pulled him down to the ground.

"Take me with you." She mumbled, stroking his jaw with her fingers.

For some reason, her words caused him pain.

He needed to hear it, needed her by his side, but he couldn't be that selfish.

He had forced her to do enough things.

He strangled her, pressed her face to the ground, forced her to tame the dragon even though she could have died, himself considering when and how he should get rid of her, using her for his pleasure in the end, giving her no security, no guarantee that he had in any way even considered marrying her.

Only now, in that moment, did he understand why all this time his mother had been looking at him this way.

He had made her his whore, even though he could, after all, have treated her with dignity from the very beginning.

Was this how a man of honour behaved?

"I want you to live, even if I'm gone. Daemon, if he succeeds in defeating me, will not kill you. You will tell him that I forced you to marry me." He whispered, wanting to behave as he should this time.

Like a good man, a good brother, a good husband.

He closed his eye as her thumb ran over his jawline, her warm hand cupping his cold cheek soothingly, making him feel safe.

"You promised me something then, under a starry sky, like the one spreading over our heads now. You said: tame a dragon, and your place will always be by my side. It was not to be my punishment, but my reward. So reward me, for my devotion, courage and faithfulness. Let me spend the night with you." She said softly.

He opened his eye, feeling his heart beat harder, as if his body was giving him a sign that it still wanted to live, and the blood still flowed through his veins.

Although he had felt dead a moment before, he now took a breath again, as if he had risen from the sea depths to the surface.

He kissed her as he had always dreamed of being kissed: the caresses he placed on her plump lips were sweet and moist, sticky with his desire and the feeling that burned in his heart like a living fire, giving him hope.

In that moment, although he was not aware of it, he gave vent to his grief and frustration, a thought that had been circling in his head for many months, but which he had not allowed to reach his consciousness because of his pride.

He could not bear the fact that he had not met her sooner – that Daemon had never taken her with him to the Red Keep.

He saw her through the eyes of his imagination as a little girl, as lost and bewildered as he was – alone in a strange place, among strange people and a strange culture, where fire and blood ruled. His nature, which made him love to show off his knowledge and rhetoric would have made him, though no doubt reluctantly, acquaint her with all the secrets their lineage, their history, their heritage held.

She would not have a dragon, and neither would he.

He would no longer be alone.

Perhaps she would have helped him then, that night, and climbed onto Vhagar's back with him.

Perhaps they would have set off towards the skies together, laughing and shouting with joy.

Perhaps she would have stood up for him and he would never have lost his left eye.

Perhaps he would have smiled more often, teasing her all the time.

Perhaps his first experience with a woman would not have been in a brothel with a whore in his mother's age, but her, just as inexperienced, beautiful in her innocence.

Perhaps she would have borne him a son or a daughter long ago, being his wife and closest companion.

He felt that he had been robbed of their years together, of the possibility of being a different person, of retaining something in himself that was pure, true, honest.

He was a shadow of himself, a sullen, tall figure in black, a stone lying at the foot of the Iron Throne.

"– hāedar (little sister) –" He breathed out into her mouth, this young girl whom he would kiss fervently in the dark corridors of the Red Keep, slowly discovering with her the secrets and nooks of her soft, warm body, her throbbing womanhood leaking under his fingers.

He craved what had been taken from them – he wanted to be a boy with two eyes again, to regain what he had lost.

He wanted Luke to be still alive.

He felt a heavy, burning, lonely tear gather under his eyelid at that thought, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could run down, pressing her forehead against his.

"– lēkia (big brother) –" She hummed softly, causing a pleasant, warm feeling to ripple through his heart.

"– promise not to leave my side –" He muttered in a breaking voice.

She smiled at his words.

"– I promise –"

They embraced and cuddled into each other in a way that was delightfully innocent – although he passionately desired her, there was no lust in the gesture itself, but a need for simple closeness and comfort.

"– don't make Aegon's mistake – stay away until I give you the sign – do you understand? –" He whispered in her ear and she nodded.

"– yes –"

Her presence gave him strength and, although with difficulty, he managed to climb onto Vhagar's back. He turned behind himself, spotting her seated figure, Sheepstealer rose from the ground at her command.

"Sōvēs! (Fly!)" He called out, and a moment later, Vhagar's body shook as she lazily began to rise on her paws. She moved forward, making the ground around them tremble, and then took to the skies with difficulty.

He breathed loudly as he saw the silhouettes of Sheepstealer at his side and his wife sitting on his back – although he was still terrified, their presence was a comfort to him.

On the one hand, he felt remorse that he had been so weak as to expose her; on the other, he thought that perhaps, in fact, her presence would bring Daemon out of balance and give them a chance.

Or at least that was how he tried to console himself.

The journey from Harrenhal to Gods Eye was not a long one – he swallowed hard, noticing that his uncle had not yet appeared.

What if it was an ambush?

They both landed on a hill near the lake in the open space, so that he could see exactly what was going on around them. He looked to the side and noticed that his wife was staring at the sheet of water spreading out beside them.

He swallowed hard, looking at her uncertainly – some part of him that was still afraid he was going to die wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he only managed to open his mouth when he heard a screech in the skies.

They both lifted their heads up, terrified and anxious, as the powerful figure of Caraxes flew over their heads – he grabbed the ropes, ready to command Vhagar to breathe fire, Daemon, however, landed in front of them, his dragon's paws slamming into the ground, its head stopped just in front of Vhagar's muzzle.

Both dragons squawked loudly, but he wasn't sure if it was an expression of threat or greeting.

After all, they had flown together in the skies for many years.

"I thought you were a man, nephew, yet you hide behind my daughter's skirt like a coward." He exclaimed mockingly, pulling his helmet off his head.

He was exactly as he remembered him – his ironic grin, his narrow, shrewd gaze, the lightness and pride with which he spoke made him feel an unpleasant wave of humiliation flow along his spine.

"I named my hound after you, Father." He heard his wife's voice at his side and lifted his chin higher, feeling a sudden, pleasant shiver of satisfaction.

Daemon pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not look at her, as if afraid of what he might see.

"My wife longed to greet her father. Who am I to take that right away from her?" He hummed, feeling a sudden surge of confidence, realising they had the advantage over him.

Two dragons against one.

His uncle snorted and shook his head, looking up at the stars above their heads as if bored.

"You tell me. You took away her right to decide for herself when you abducted her to the Red Keep. Did you ask her opinion on the matter then too?" He sneered.

"That is no longer your concern." His wife said coldly, looking at Daemon in a way he had never seen before – her face was stony and cold, her forehead smooth, her eyebrows raised in disapproval and some kind of disgust, her hands clenched into fists.

Her father finally looked at her and it made him uneasy – he had the feeling that they had both forgotten his presence for a moment.

He swallowed hard and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing what he had feared.

Her mask was slowly cracking, showing the pain, regret and disappointment that filled her whole heart.

"Where were you when this happened? How did you protect me that you have the audacity to mention it now?" She asked sternly, making him feel an unpleasant sting in his heart.

Where were you when this happened?

His hand clamped around her neck as if he wanted to strangle her, his fingers gripping her hair, pressing her face to the ground.

"I sent my men to deal with the matter. However, they did not find your husband, for he was with his whore at the time. These fools killed the boy." Daemon said dispassionately making his heart stop beating for a moment.

I sent my men to deal with the matter.

Daemon didn't send them in revenge for Luke.

He sent them in revenge for her.

His wife seemed as shocked as he was, as she simply looked at her father in disbelief, as if she could not find the right words to answer him.

"Then the matter was determined. I would have tried to intervene again by force, but Lysa kept me informed of what was happening. That you were succumbing to your tormentor and his manipulations. Therefore, you have put me in an impossible situation." He concluded.

Lysa.

Her servant had been spying for him.

He felt himself begin to boil with rage, feeling like a little boy who had been fooled again.

From the very beginning he thought he had gained the upper hand over him, and it was the complete opposite.

While Daemon knew everything about them, he had no information about what was happening in Dragonstone.

"My mother. Did you kill her?" Her voice full of anger and grief snapped him out of his reverie.

"I did." Her father replied without hesitation.

"Why? Haven't you taken enough of her?" She asked in pain.

"For months she had the woman who cared for you add poison to your milk. Measter, when he realised, informed your cousin and he informed me. When I arrived, you were already in a fever." He said annoyed, speaking louder and louder with every word.

When I was a child I often had trouble falling asleep.

My nanny would then bring me warm milk mixed with honey and ground grains brought from distant Essos.

He looked at her, feeling that the situation was beginning to get out of hand – he hadn't expected any discussion to occur or what their would hear – his wife's face twisted into a grimace, as if her father had slapped her across the face.

"I don't believe you." She muttered.

"She wanted to get rid of you. When I offered to take you to King's Landing, she refused. I had no choice but to kill the whore."

"You left me behind!" She whined, as if someone was forcing a blade into her body, Sheepstealers squawked loudly, feeling her pain.

"I will take you with me this time. But you must let me resolve the matter between me and my nephew. Do not interfere. Caraxes!" He called out, and his dragon squealed loudly, raising its head, ready to attack.

"NO!" He heard her shout, but neither of them listened to her anymore.

"Angōs, Vhagar! (Attack, Vhagar!)" He shouted in response, and the two great beasts collided with each other, sinking their fangs into each other's bodies. Vhagar jerked, biting a chunk of flesh from Caraxes stomach, but he was not indebted to her and drove his claws into her gut.

Both dragons squawked in pain and flapped their wings, trying to separate and lift themselves into the air. When Caraxes let her go, he pulled on the ropes and forced his dragoness to soar up and then down, opening her maw wide.

"DRAKARYS!" He and Daemon shouted at the same moment, and two long columns of fire struck each other in the air, lighting up the night sky around them. He turned on his saddle, trying to escape the hot flames, panting with exertion, seeing only the endlessly black sheet of water below him.

Was this what she had seen in her dream?

Caraxes shot upwards like a serpentine, folding his wings along his body, flying on them at tremendous speed – his voice stuck in his throat, and no command left his lips when he caught sight of Daemon's silhouette leaping off the back of his dragon, falling on top of him with the sword in his hand, gripped so as to thrust it into his head.

He knew he wouldn't be able to dodge, and even if he succeeded, Daemon would finish the job when Caraxes hit Vhagar.

His body froze, fear paralysed his limbs, disbelief and terror surged like lightning along his spine.

Then he heard a swish – his uncle seemed surprised, his mouth opened wide as the arrowhead slammed into his neck, the only place that was exposed. The impact changed the trajectory of his flight – he heard him draw in air loudly before he began to fall downwards.

He clenched his hands tightly on the ropes tied to his saddle as Caraxes slammed into Vhagar – his dragoness acted without his commands, immediately thrusting her fangs and claws into his flesh, tearing him apart.

He sighed as Sheepstealer and she flashed beneath him – his heart thumped hard in his chest as he saw Daemon's body fall into the water, and she jumped after him.

"– hāedar! –" He shouted in a breaking voice, not knowing what to do, how to help her, how to react to what she had just done.

Did she know how to swim?

He had never done that, and if he jumped in after her in full armour, they would both drown.

"Dohaerās, Vhagar! (Serve me, Vhagar!)" He howled, with all the strength he had in his arms pulling at the ropes, trying to direct Vhagar to the place over which the Sheepstealer was circling, squealing and wailing, the numb body of Caraxes fell down with his cry.

He thought he could try to drop her rope, but Vhagar's wings hovering over the surface of the water caused waves to form.

She won't be able to swim out, he thought in despair.

"FUCK!" He groaned and burst out crying as he soared higher, circling above the place, quickly unbuckling all the pieces of armour he was able to remove on his own, wanting to jump in after her.

Then Sheepstealer suddenly changed the course of his flight, folded his wings so that his silhouette formed a straight line, and hit the water with all his might, disappearing beneath its surface.

He was panting heavily, looking at the place where they both disappeared, hearing the sound of the wind all around him, panting all over with fear and terror, whooping with his tears.

"– gods, please – please, please, please, not her –"

He shuddered as Sheepstealer's silhouette suddenly emerged from the water with a mighty splash, her drenched silhouette lying helplessly between his fangs.

"– hāedar! –" He shouted, flying after them towards the shore where her dragon had finally landed.

He saw Sheepstealer gently open his maw, letting her body slide to the ground – he jumped off his saddle, sliding down the ropes, falling heavily to his knees. He thought he had probably just broken something, but he didn't care, immediately throwing himself towards her.

He turned her onto her back – she was all wet and pale, her eyes closed, her mouth wide open as if she wanted to take a breath, but was unable to.

"– hāedar – gods, what have you done –" He exhaled, grabbing her into his embrace, lifting her to sit so that he threw her head over his shoulder, slapping her back hard with his palm.

"– come on – come on, breathe, come back to me –" He mumbled, hitting harder – he let out a sigh of relief as she coughed and spat out the water that flowed into her lungs, catching a loud, raspy breath.

"– that's it – that's it – that's my girl –" He whispered, feeling her whole body tremble in his embrace – he snuggled her into him, but the steel of his armour was cold and she was drenched.

He grabbed her under the hips and lifted her with an effort, limping on one leg, feeling more and more clearly that he had probably twisted his ankle when he jumped off Vhagar.

He sat down with her next to Sheepstealer's stomach, the warmest part of any dragon's body – Sheepstealer settled in such a way that he enveloped their bodies on each side, clearly understanding what he wanted to do.

He heard her burst into sobs, and while part of him was furious that she had thrown herself after him, the other part of him was just happy that she was alive.

"– I didn't – I didn't want to hurt him – I-I just wanted him not to reach you – he – he grabbed my hand, and then he let me go – I wanted to save him, but he let me go – why, why did he do that? –" She mumbled in a breaking voice, breathing louder and louder, as if the mere memory of what had happened made her panic.

Because it wouldn't have changed anything anyway, he thought in the back of his head.

His body trembling all over after Luke disappeared inside Vhagar's maw with his loud, childish cry, his face pressed against the front of his saddle, his heart pounding like mad in terror, his throat and lungs compressed as if he were suffocating, tears of fear running down his face.

All I wanted was his eye, as atonement for mine.

I killed a man.

"– easy –" He whispered, pressing his nose into her wet hair, feeling the moisture from her clothes and skin slowly begin to evaporate under the heat.

He felt like he would literally boil in his armour under the temperature, but he knew he couldn't let her go now.

He was alone then, but he wasn't going to let the same thing happen to her.

Because of the fact that he understood how she felt, he knew what she needed.

"– if it wasn't for you, he would have killed me – you saw for yourself – it was a battle – I owe you my life, zaldrītsos –" He whispered, stroking her back, placing warm, gentle kisses on her face.

She covered her eyes with her hands, wailing and moaning, the pain that tore at her heart unbearable.

"– no – no, no, no, no –" She mumbled, and he pressed his lips together, knowing that this was exactly what it would be like for the next few weeks, maybe even months.

Denial, remorse, rage, grief, despair, pain, nightmares and panic.

Everything he was experiencing deep inside himself, she would be experiencing now and there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering.

He could only be.

"– tell me it's not true – that I didn't do it – that it's just a bad dream – please, lēkia, I need to hear it –" She pleaded like a small child in hysterics, her trembling hand gripping his cheek, asking him to look at her in this way.

He swallowed hard, finally pressing his forehead against hers, running the tip of his nose over the soft skin of her face.

"– I'll be by your side all the time – I won't leave you for a moment – I promise –"

"– GET OUT –" She shouted, pushing him away suddenly, enraged that he didn't comply with her request, wanting to get up.

"– hāedar –" He sighed, holding her tightly.

"– GET OUT – GET OUT – GET OUT –" She sobbed, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hands, panting heavily, trying to move away from him, acting more like a wild animal than a human being.

"– I can't – you're all soaked – we need to keep you warm –" He explained calmly, feeling strangely in control, not experiencing any irritation or anger looking at her behaviour.

She was horrified by what she had done and was in shock, and he had to help her get through it now.

It's going to be worse once she calms down and locks herself deep inside her, he thought, struggling with her, holding her close.

"– I want to get back in the water – he's still there – maybe he's still alive –" She mumbled, completely absorbed in the chaos of her thoughts and despair, extending her hand towards the surface of the lake.

"– I can't let you do it, zaldrītsos – he's no longer suffering – he's with our ancestors in the heavens – my father is surely just now welcoming him with open arms –" He whispered, and she whined loudly at his words, leaning low, pressing her face against his thigh.

He held her close and stroked her body, her hair, her shoulders, her back, wanting her to feel that he was there for her even if she couldn't understand it now.

When he was going through it himself, all he wanted was for someone to embrace him, to stroke his head, to tell him that he was forgiven, that he wasn't a bad man, that it was an accident.

That's why he knew how important it was for her to understand that she had saved his life.

"– if it wasn't for you, his blade would have pierced my skull – I would have fallen into the water with him – we would have both be dead –" He said softly, hearing her breathing loudly, slowly calming down.

At one point there was complete silence and he knew that this was the moment – he grabbed her in his arms and instructed her to hold on to him tightly as he began to climb up onto Vhagar's back.

He knew that in such a state she would not be able to fly on Sheepstealer.

When they returned to Harrenhal, it was beginning to dawn – the sun was lazily rising over the horizon. His wife was breathing and that was the only sign that she was alive – her body sitting in front of him in the saddle was devoid of strength, her face turned to the side, her empty gaze staring into the distance.

Her thoughts were far away, with her father when she was still a small child.

When they landed, instead of riding a horse, he made his way from Vhagar's liege to the fortress on foot, despite the pain in his ankle. He was in no hurry – he held her in his arms, her hands thrown around his neck, her legs entwined at his back. She clung to him like a baby and he didn't want her to have to change position, to pull away from him, from his body, his closeness and warmth.

She was like a little child that had left her mother's womb anew, terrified of how cold and cruel the world around her was.

Criston Cole ran out to meet them, spotting them from the walls of the stronghold.

"Good gods, what has happened? Where have you been?" He asked.

He stopped, looking at him indifferently, feeling a painful throbbing in his leg, his hand stroking her back reassuringly.

"Daemon is dead."

274 notes · View notes

tsukii0002 · 28 days ago

Text

A young adult Yuu III

Yuu is isekaied into twisted wonnderlar, but they are a "independent" adult in their 20's, college ended and who is fighting for finding a job and survive.

[Previous] [Next]

Seeing the vision of the King of Beasts.

Yuu: Is this because of age… or is the stress of this world driving me crazy.

Grim: *a magical talking beast*

Yuu: Hum, it could be either.

Ruggie: *trying to flatter Grim into giving him his food*

Yuu: Stay away Grim!!!, teenagers are too cruel to flatter a stranger in such a soft way!!

Yuu: If the blot is similar to the carbon footprint and the gem removes it, it could be applied to global warming?

Deuce: To what?

Yuu: Nothing, existential problems of my generation.

Crowley: There are a lot of things to do, selling drinks…

Yuu: You already want to exploit us again.

Crowley: I'm worried that your pessimism might rub off on the students.

Yuu: It's called being realistic, it's what it is.

Yuu: Ah, that's cool, playing a sport.

Deuce: Did you practice any sport Yuu?

Yuu: Nop, I stopped, when you get older the sport disappears as fast as the flexibility of your knees… besides when you have to survive there is no time for sport… that's for rich people.

Yuu: So the sport consists of throwing a solid iron disk at you with the speed enhanced by magic?

Ghost: Exactly.

Yuu: And couldn't you have chosen a less mortifying sport? I don't know, like badminton?

Grim: Oh come on Yuu, where's your adventurous spirit?

Yuu: *looking at him unhinged* In my fifteens, next to my energy. I'm of an age, and life doesn't give me enough for this.

Investigating by asking the injured

Yuu: Now we're detectives, ha ha, I feel like I'm a moonlighting again.

Riddle, Cater, Grim and Yuu drawing conclusions about the culprit.

Yuu: You are very capable Riddle *smiling*.

Riddle: You think so?

Yuu: You have very good ideas and Cater, it's incredible how much information you can gather. You guys are awesome .

Cater and Riddle: *blushing without understanding why*

Cater: Is this…

Riddle: … To be praised by an adult?

Leona: I know you, you're the one who stepped on my tail while I was sleeping.

Yuu: The student gardener!

Leona: Gardener of what? Failed adult.

Yuu: Hey!! I'm older!

Leona: Yeah, and I am your superior.

Yuu: … Ouch.

Malleus: …

Yuu: …

Malleus: …

Yuu: *looking around*

Malleus: …

Yuu: Isn't it a little late to be awake? do you need help? are you lost?

Malleus: Heh, you've got some nerve treating me like that *disappears*

Yuu: ??????? Should I report the disappearance of one of the students? *panicking*

They find out the whole dorm was involved and everything they have done to carry out their plan.

Yuu: Maybe if you put that energy into other less self-destructive things you would do better!!!!! This is going to be taken into account in the future when looking for a job!!!!!

Jack: What's wrong with them?

Ace: They're just frustrated with the world.

Jack goes to wake up Yuu and Grim in their bedroom.

Yuu: *defeated* even for this I can't set an example.

Ruggie causes the stampede

Yuu: *really angry* This is very dangerous, Nothing, nothing justifies trying to hurt people, they're old enough to understand that!

Ace and Deuce: …

Ace: I think from now on we should warn Yuu before Crowley in an emergency. At least they care.

The whole plan is uncovered, Diasomnia is fine, and Riddle puts a collar on everyone in Savanaclaw.

Leona: *sighing* it's over, I give it up.

Yuu: That attitude… *worried* I think Leona is closer to being an adult like me than a student like you…

Ruggie: *is wounded*

Yuu: *standing in front of him*

Ruggie: What are you doing?!? it's dangerous!!!

Yuu: Shut up!!! Let us adults be responsible for the children!!!!!

Riddle: Why are you doing this with the power you have?!

Leona: You're going to scold me, you?

Yuu: He's not, but I am!!!! Your pain is not an excuse to hurt others!!!!

Jack: *use his unique magic*

Yuu: Is this… you know...*turning to look at Ace*?

Ace: NO!!!

Yuu: Adolescence in this world is a thing….

Leona: *overblotting*

Yuu: WHAT IF THIS SCHOOL HIRED A DAMN THERAPIST!!!!!?

Watching Leona's flashbacks

Yuu: *serious* What kind of adult makes a child feel like this….

The injured ask Savanaclaw to participate.

Leona: Ha, as if a bunch of herbivores could do anything to me.

Yuu: Stop acting tough, *shouting* you're of an age!!!!

Leona: You, SHUT UP!!!

Jack: *offers to help them with the exhibition match*

Yuu: *pointing at him* Like this, kids have to be like this.

Yuu: *waking up after being hit* I missed the game….

Deuce: Hey, don't worry!

Yuu: What kind of adult misses their children's game????

Ace: Since when are we your kids?!?!!!!

Cheka: Are you a friend of my unca?

Yuu: They are very expensive Yuu, you are very young and it wont be the same, you are very young and it wont be the same...

Leona: If you like it so much you can keep it, *grinning* you're old enough to have one anyway, right?

Cheka: OwO

Yuu: I don't think you're one to talk!!, I know people your age with one or two.

Leona: !

Jack: *doing the math* How?

Yuu: The 20's are very confusing years…

Leona: *sighing* Sorry for have been a bother.

Yuu: Wow, I didn't expect that from you.

Leona: Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, I'm leaving.

Yuu: Leona, life is unfair, you're going to encounter more failures than victories. And it only gets more unfair as you get older, and there's nothing we can do about it, at least most of the time.

Leona: *stopping, turning his back on them*

Yuu: But with your talent and your intelligence, I think you can carve your own path, and, although you can never be king… I'm sure you can create a place that only you can occupy, and it will be worth more than any birthright.

Leona: *looking at them without saying anything*

Yuu: Besides, being a king is overrated, what is the merit of ruling without earning it? in my world they beheaded one…

Leona: For a pitiful adult, *smiling* you make a lot of sense.

Yuu: You'll get there *smiling back at him*

I'm not entirely satisfied with this part, so I may modify it. But I'm glad I got out of the block with this series.

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading 🩶

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stuck-writing-sickos · 10 months ago

Text

In Poor Taste [P4]

[Series Link]

(Yandere × F! Reader)

[Warning: misogyny, explicit language, violence, harrassment, bodily harm]

(A/N: i see some of yall find Lukas so offputting 🎯yall not rocking with him? Why❤️What for✨️ is it his personality 💕is he vile and disgusting 🥹? do u hate him💋? Do u wanna beat his ass 🫶? )

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

He didn't expect to see a familiar face in the tight, dim, sweaty corner of Tokyo. He regretted going to this silly punk rock concert in the first place, but he did say this morning that he would go to one so he could talk to you about it. Mostly he was set on going because he wanted to try out something new, something to talk about - his peers wouldn't set foot near this underground coffee. It was unfortunate that he had no genuine interest in the music - it was loud and complicated. Unpredictable. The guitar might sound cool, but there wasn't a groove to which he could chill and bob his head or trip balls on mushroom while making out with a stranger. No trippy backdrops here - just the dim, anxiety-inducing colored stage light.

So he was there at a standing table way back, watching the crowd dance and scream. He found it strange - the hair, the makeup, the eccentric clothes. The only thing he would safely get behind was the fishnet and leather skirts that some girl really rocked. Sometimes, the girls over at the States would wear that to bars or theme nights. He liked that. He didn't like the way he feel here - half aroused, half judgemental. He would rather the tight sportwears on tanned blond surfers or yoga instructors. The ones who earned nods and hums and vile comments from his frat brothers were he to kiss and tell. Being attracted to them made him feel normal. Accepted. Approved. He wouldn't be caught dead eyeing these women.

But his friends weren't here, so he got to look. Never tell, though. Or if he did, he would say "oh, they dressed crazy", or "their eyeliner were scary", or "their piercings freak me out".

Deciding that it was time for another beer, Lukas begrudgingly went to the bar again. He felt anxious and alone, sticking out like a sore thumb. He earned quite some looks from women, but he couldn't be so sure if they liked what they see or if they could tell he was a poser who only came just to say he did it. He couldn't read their expressions, partly since he was drunk, partly because he was now considering the cultural differences, even if only for a morcel. He was made aware of it most pointedly this morning: the couple faux-pas he made with Sakamoto might have been intentional, but the guy's lack of reaction made him question how big of an insult he had put out there.

Sakamoto made him feel defensive, though Lukas decided not to dwell on it. He wasn't one to feel insecure, especially with guys like that - soft faced and soft-spoken. His big round eyes and sickly skin made him look like a woman, too. At least, Lukas would acknowledge that he was tall. But that was his only saving grace.

He wasn't explicitly aware that he was feeling more territorial over you. It wasn't about you anyway, it was by default. Even in the past, he had done these things - putting down other men to get to women. They were his wingmen, he would justify, they weren't supposed to outshine him. When it was his turn to wingman, he definitely let his brothers dog on him for days. It was common and understandable. If anything, Sakamoto should make ways for him. A girl like you wouldn't suit that guy - he was too uptight and serious. What would two high-strung people do together? You should be with someone who know what a good time is. Also, he saw something Sakamoto didn't - a glimpse of your tattoo. Those family-man wouldn't know how to deal with that. How would he take bring that up to his family? They would freak. Even his sister's "31:25" tattoo freaked his parents out, and they were already the most liberal rich family in his neighborhood.

Yeah, Sakamoto should leave you to him.

Settling in on a barstool, he ordered another beer, then repeat himself when the bartender couldn't quite make out what he was trying to say.

Lukas let his eyes scan the people sitting near him. Only a few, he noticed. It wasn't a crazy crowd to begin with.

After this beer, he'd go home.

As the bartender come back with his bottle, Lukas noticed something he didn't expect. From the crowd, you emerged, making your way toward the bar. He blinked, trying to see if he was mistaken.

No... that was definitely you.

All black from head to toes, you treaded silently like a death omen, your sleek heels clicking. Your short sleeved turtle neck and your tight pants started a heat within his chest. Your face wasn't any different, though - just the usual look. No crazy eyeliner, no bold dark lipstick. Seemed like you did not come here to impress the crowd.

You didn't notice him. Hopping onto a stool at the other end with your back facing him, you ordered something. You knew Japanese, or just enough to get by. A lot of expats got to that point eventually.

Lukas debated on confronting you about your lies - you said you would be at dinner with a friend. Or maybe he could do that tomorrow.

He didn't peg you for such a casual liar.

Lukas hatched another plan: he could observe you, and see how deep your lies could go. Sipping on his beer, he followed your movement. You adjusted in your chair, still with that calm manner you carried yourself. Then, his eyes rested on your skin left bare by the bold backless top. You looked good, but clueless. Would you know the implications of such a shirt? The way your body moved in it... men would think you were asking for troubles. Bad men. Asshole men who didn't know they were pigs. At least he had the decency to admit that he was a pig, but he was an honest pig who respected women. He was a pig who knew to ask once, then if rejected a couple more time just to make sure, then he would leave it alone. Most pigs wouldn't know to even ask.

You sipped on your pink cocktail. That was cute. Your right now style reminded him of those ravebabes he met during spring break, but you were more subtle and quiet. Your movement were less urgent, and your clothes were less exposing. It was a nice feminine touch.

Your moment of rest didn't seem to last long. A man had chosen to sit down right next to you. This man was lanky, dressed in a very unbuttoned black button-down. He started to chatter, first in Japanese, then in English. Another sleazeball trying to test out his games. Lukas wondered when would be appropriate to interfere.

Your body language made it clear you weren't interested, but not afraid. Immediately covering your drink, you tried to turn your body away. The man seemed not to mind. If anything, his speech seemed more excited, his hands moving around like a stupid puppet. Desperate, Lukas thought, that was not a good look.

Deciding your half-finished drink wasn't safe anymore, you laid it on the bar and stepped down, trying to leave. Upon this, the man caught your wrist, forcing you to turn his way. Lukas' stomach twisted - here it was, the moment where he step it and scare off this asshole.

A loud, off-tune note shred through the music. Lukas looked at the stage. The band played on, but it seemed there was a technical issues with the guitarist.

The momentary distraction cost him his chance to intervene. When he turned his eyes back to you, he was hit with a strange scene - in a swift movement you twisted your arms around the man's and grabbed onto his forearm, forcing it down so hard he stumbled. Your face, now turned sideway during the commotion, was eerily calm when you talked. Lukas heard "Sir... I said no."

The man said something in Japanese, something that sounded bitter. Probably a curse word. Lukas jumped off his seat just as the stranger swung with his free arm to slap you across the face. The bartender seemed to have decided that whatever was going on was enough, and she rushed to you. Before she could, you clenched your idle fist and landed an uppercut so hard the harrasser let out a cartoonish "oof", his limp fingers releasing you as he stumbled backward, hitting right against the bouncer who appeared as if from the shadow.

Something in Lukas awakened in that moment. Your stone cold feature and your bruised knuckle left him slack-jawed. He stepped closer, intending to ask if you were okay. Once again, he was interrupted.

"Sir and ma'am, please explain what happened", the burly bouncer commanded. The pathetic guy excitedly tried to speak, but you only crossed your arms and watched. Your eyes was set on the sad attempt at vidication, but you were patient to let him finish his spiel.

"Is it true that you attacked this gentleman unprovoked, ma'am?"

"I apologize for the commotion, sir", your bowed, hands now hanging right atop your knees. Pulling yourself back up, you continued, "this young man seemed to have taken my rejection poorly, and he had slapped me across my face. I understand that my punch was unseemly, but I did that in an attempt to protect myself. He had gotten ahold of my arms and hit me, so I was fearing for the worst."

The bouncer's scowled, but he decided that he had heard it all. His big hand grabbed onto the stranger's wrist, and together they exited out the backdoor.

The fight definitely grabbed some attention. Lukas stood watching you look around, soaking in the side eyes. Taking in a breath, you dusted yourself off and hopped back onto a barstool. The thick, moist, cigarette-dense air fell heavy in Lukas' lungs. He felt his heart drumming, his body hot from an excitement he couldn't surpress. Something about the way you fought hit him like ecstasy.

He wondered if your punch hurts.

Lost in the unprecedented euphoria, he could only gaze at you as some women came up and asked if you were okay. You reassurred them with a familiar smile, one he had seen you wore at work. Your voice was soft again as you thanked the chirpy crowd for their concerns.

Lukas didn't say anything to you that night. He went home and let the image of you and your victorious knuckle bruises lull him to sleep.

___

"Do you need me to find out who he is?"

Yuki wasn't happy when he asked that. The sight of your bandaged hand and the medical patch on your face stirred his stomach with guilt.

"No, of course not", you shook your head, "I'm fine! Really, it was nothing."

Yuki pursed his lips. The lunch he packed himself suddenly tasted like cardboard.

He tried to make it easier by reminding himself that at least Lukas didn't push to have lunch with you today. In fact, the guy had been stoic for the entire morning. Even though you weren't around, Lukas had somehow been working on his computer silently instead of sprawling on his chair like a slacker. Perhaps you had reminded him about his attitudes at work?

If you did, Yuki was impressed that the newbie knew to listen. He didn't think that kid would be the type to do so.

"Sakamoto, please don't worry. I had fun, and your set was great."

He looked down. He knew he wasn't directly to blame, though the guilt never went away- he was well-acquainted with this sort of harrassment. Right in his childhood home he had witnessed worse. What grated him the most was the silence afterward. The way his mother's frail form would hunch, casting a bent shadow on the shoji, her hands cupping her face. He was too young and small to do anything but stand in the hallway and watch as she eventually moved, mute and rigid. He heard the folds of her clothes creasing against one another and the floorboard barely creaking under her feet.

She couldn't have fought back. She was sickly. When he grew into his middle school uniform, Yuki tried to fight on her behalf but his teenage body bounced off his father's sturdy chest. His father was a merciless man, strong like the grey stone wall surrounding their mansion. Yuki remembered the disappointment in the old man's voice as he lamented "my only son is emotional like a woman, and weak like one, too."

"I see...", he said to you, his voice weary. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to bring up the fact that when he saw your tug of war, he let his hand slip across the strings, messing up the song. He had planned to jump off the stage, but his lead singer had tugged on his sleeve and eyed the bouncer who was already coming your way. What was there to tell you? He couldn't say that he had almost done something. Either he did something or he did nothing. In this case, he did nothing. Yuki tried to find solace in the fact that you held your own, but he couldn't. You shouldn't have to, not right in front of a friend.

Another wave of bitterness hit him when he remembered Lukas standing there watching, hesitant to interfere, tall and awkward like an useless telephone pole. Yuki wondered if he should bring Lukas up, but he decides against it. He didn't want you to feel worse - a friend and a junior watching you getting hit, that would not brighten anyone's day. He felt sorry for you to have to deal with two cowards.

Well, if he couldn't feel better, the least he could do was to keep you from feeling worse. He had been of no help with his stupid sad face. After all, this should not be about him. Yuki shamefully put his feelings in the corner as he tried to think of something that would cheer your up.

"Hey, would you like to check out a cat cafe this weekend with me?"

Your eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's right down the street from where I live. I have been meaning to visit, but it would be awkward to go alone."

Yuki already visited. He liked their cakes and tea. Still, he saw no harm in a little white lie to make his invitation seem more natural. He would hate for you to get the idea that he felt obliged to make up for what happened. That would be a transactional spin on what was supposed to be a gesture of friendship.

"That would be so nice! I also was hoping to relax a little lately..."

The knot in his chest unraveled at that.

___

You were intimidated by Lukas' switch-up. Since morning, he was quiet. Upon seeing your bruises, he asked what happened, to which you gave a vague respond about tripping on the sidewalk. No more inappropriate attempts of flirting nor small talks - he appeared to be engrossed in the tasks you handed to him. You found it simultaneously nice and unnerving, so a part of you were glad that you were scheduled to teach until lunch. You were worried that if you were near him for too long, you wouldn't be able to resist asking him what triggered this change.

You thought of asking him to join you and Sakamoto for lunch, remembering the agreement you had made the day prior. Though, by the time you reached the lounge, he was getting ready to leave. "Please don't mind me", he said with an oddly soft smile, "I need to pick up something at the convenient store nearby. I hope you and Mr. Sakamoto have a good meal". His out of character veneered grin hit you like a brick.

By the time afternoon rolled by, Lukas occupied only a corner of your mind. You were mowing through the last days of school, teaching, writing, planning the end of year school festival. When you landed from the whirlwind and came back to the lounge for your last hour, you barely noticed the junior colleague who was still hunched over his laptop. Brushing past him, you got settled. Your tense body completely dropped its guards as you melted in your chair.

Your gaze met with a bottle of cold green tea in your cubicle. From the thin condensation, you figured it hadn't been around for long.

"Afternoon", Lukas' voice echoed from the other side of your corner, "you seemed tired. It's not much, but I hope you feel a little more refreshed drinking that."

"Mr. Lukas... it's so nice of you. I'm embarrassed to not have anything in return."

He didn't move to look at you.

"Don't mind it! You had a long day."

His tone was cool and distant, a long shot from the flirtatiousness you had to suffer so far.

"Really, thank you, Mr. Lukas. I do like this brand a lot, so this definitely made me feel better."

There was a quick pause before he spoke again: "I'm glad."

He moved at last, turning to you. You missed his gaze as you twisted open the cap and took a sip.

"If you don't mind, I would love your opinion on the powerpoints I made so far."

"Of course", you nodded, rolling your chair his way. He arched back, giving you the space to take a look

Your attention was on the mistakes he had made. You had a flaw: you were a perfectionist. Despite your lack of vocal reaction, you knew you could be critical when you saw someone take over your work incorrectly. It comes with expertise. Still, you had trained yourself to manage the uneasiness and maintain an encouraging attitude - something your close friends called "softening the blow".

You often forget, though, that your face could betray you.

"Okay, you did great so far", you said, neglecting to meet his eyes, "but I want to make some notes here. Would you mind?"

"Not at all."

For someone so surprisingly tough, you lacked an eye for details. You didn't see the look on him as he watched your hardening face and bandaged knuckle as if he was starving.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere reader insert #yandere x reader #masochistic #idk #we rocking with this vibe or no?

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wishing-on-a-staranise · 1 year ago

Text

You, Me, Lonely.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea (educate yourself and help however you can)

Summary: you love Steve, Steve loves you. But maybe you both want different things from life.

Warnings/tags: reader menstruates (reader has uterus), abandonment issues, the ‘six nuggets’ talk, suggestive

Word count: 3.4k

masterlist

a/n: huge huge huge thanks to @procrastinationprincesses for helping me out with this fic and giving it an ending (ur amazing sanjana <3)

writing and posting something because i might have to go MIA for a lil bit (miss me while I'm gone will ya?)

fic is inspired by ‘You, Me, Lonely’ by FIZZ i absolutely love this song like its so close to my heart ughh what can i say I'm a little bitter about the six nuggets scene

also if you couldn't tell already I have major abandonment issues and an anxious avoidant attachment style. It will reflect in what i write soz :(

In the quiet of the night, you wish for this to last forever. That you'll have him forever.

When you came out of the shower you found him asleep on his side of the bed. His side– the one closer to the door. ‘so I can protect you from anyone who'll try to steal you from me’, he had justified it when you asked him why he was adamant on that side.

you had turned off the bedside lamp ten minutes ago, slipped under the duvet, as quietly as possible so as to not wake him up. on your side of his bed. your bed.

He always sleeps on his stomach, one hand under his pillow and the other extended a little towards yours. His body moves with steady and slow breaths, back rising and falling under the covers, head peeking out from under the rumpled up duvet. his cheeks are squished against the pillow cover. His hair is a mess from the lack of hair product, and still damp from the shower he took before you. There's a few strands of his brown hair sprawled across his forehead too. With your softest touch you brush them away from his eyes.

You wonder what he was dreaming. you hope it was something nice. He looks calm, at peace, and very, very pretty.

You look at him and you know you love him. You want to love him forever.

Love had never seemed like the type of thing you’ll get– like it wasn't meant for you. But then you met him. This boy. This boy who you never thought to be your type. You never thought you even had a type. But his boyish charm and stupid grin won you over.

Your heart doesn't skip beats around him anymore, and you’d think that that means he doesn’t have that same effect on you anymore but that would be wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone as much as you do to him. You don’t look at him and get butterflies in your stomach, you look at him and… you’re sure. your heart is quiet and sure. You don't think you’ve ever been sure before.

You want to be sure forever.

He feels like the comfortable still of rain after a scorching hot summer, like the calm and cold breeze that cools you down. Like standing at the top of the mountain, looking at the clouds and valleys below, he feels like the crisp air that fills your lungs. Like the comfort meal your mom makes– the one you can never really recreate, the one that tastes the best when it comes from her.

You love him and you know. You know. You know he likes you, loves you even.

Steve Harrington loves you like a dream, and you're worried that one day he’ll wake up, look at you and realise that he deserves so much better. He’ll wake up and he’ll leave for work and he’ll bump into a pretty angel of a girl with a disposition as bright as his. And he’ll never return. people fall out of love. People fall out of love all the time.

You wish for him to love you forever.

How long is a forever anyway?

You wonder what it'll be like. When you're older, with wrinkles, white hair and weaker limbs.

It's like you see it.

You and him in a bed– just like now but older, wiser, more tired. His back turned to you. There'd be distance between you two, you’d want to move closer and hold him– but you wouldn't. You’d just stare at the back of his head, counting all the grey hairs you’d memorised like all the moles and wrinkles on his skin.

You’d notice his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and you would have known him so long and so well that you'd just know that he wasn't actually asleep. you'd know why he wasn't asleep.

there'd be a pain in your chest. You would know what it is, why its there. You would gulp and try not to think about it.

“Do you always stare at me in my sleep?” his groggy voice pulls you out of your own head.

You blink, multiple times. Forever, right.

He softly smiles up at you. You blink away before moving to lay on your back, the sheets rustling with your movement. “sorry I woke you up”, you mumble an apology, staring at the ceiling, you fail to hide the shake in your voice.

“Y’kay?”

“Yeah.” the sheets beside you ruffle but you keep your eyes trained on the ceiling. it seems inevitable. You know, one day it'll happen and despite having expected it, it’ll be the greatest heartbreak of them all.

“Thinking ‘bout somethin’?” he sounds a bit more awake.

“When am I not?” you shake your head and laugh hoping he doesn't notice that it isn't real, thankful that the curtains didn't let in any moonlight and that you had turned off the lights.

“What is it?” but this is Steve, he doesn’t need to see you to know how you’re feeling.

“Nothing.”

“Were you lying about liking the pasta I made?”

“No, Steve it was good”, a real laugh slips out of you, and you finally look at him. He’s leaning on his elbow, the messy head of hair in his hand, looking down at you. You suddenly wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see the colour of his eyes, the moles and freckles on his skin.

“Then what?”

“Nothing.” your gaze moves back to the ceiling.

“Must be something if it's keeping you up”, you feel him shift closer to you. He smells of fresh shower, mint, shaving cream and washed laundry.

“No, I'm just…. not sleepy.”

“Yeah?”, he raises his eyebrows with a sly smirk, “Well, I know a way to make you sleepy”, he leans down– both arms caging you in, landing a kiss on your neck before trailing further up to your lips. and its lovely, so god damn lovely, you don't want it to stop but this hurts.

“Ste– mmph– Steve stop”, you turn your face away, because if he keeps going, you think you'll cry, palm pushing flat against his bare chest, “I’m– I'm not in the mood.”

“Okay, I'm sorry”, he moves back onto his one elbow. The silence gestates for a while, you can feel his eyes on you. The ticking of the clock is the only thing heard through the room before he softly says, “Hey, please tell me what's happening?”

“Nothing”, you shook your head, “I’m just tired.”

“You just said you're not sleepy.”

“J– just go back to sleep okay? sorry for waking you up”, you turn onto your side, face away from him.

He sidles up behind you after a second or two, warm breath across the back of your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut. “yeah, like that's gonna put me to sleep", he mutters behind you.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you in closer, “C'mon, you know I wont be able to sleep after fighting”, burying his nose in your hair– he sighed.

“Did you just sniff my hair?”

“Yeah, I do all the time. smells s’good."

"You pervert", you both laugh lightly at that, your hand going for his around your waist, before your smiles fall and silence takes over once again.

You lick your drying lips, you forgot to put on lip balm again, “We’re not fighting, Steve.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You take in a deep breath in, fingers drawing patterns on the back of his hand, you breath out, “m’sorry.”

His arms squeeze tighter around you, he lets out a quick sigh before placing a kiss on your shoulder, “I’ll forgive you if you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Steve…”, your voice trails off, you're not even sure what you were going to say.

“Is it— Is it your…. Uh, that time of the month?”

That makes you want to roll your eyes at him and smack his chest but you restrain yourself, you’re not sure if you want him to see your eyes right now anyway. Instead, you sigh, “I had it last week, Steve.”

You got it in this very same bed. Awoken by cramps in the middle of the night. and Steve, your lovely Steve had given you a hot water bag while he took off the sheets and put on fresh new ones and then gave you a soft massage that put you to sleep.

“right... yeah, sorry," he says all sheepish, “So what is it then? Did someone say somethin’ at work?”

“No.”

“Did I.. " he hesitated a little, "did I say something?”

“...no”, you curse yourself for pausing before saying it.

“I did, didn't I?”

“No, no. you–”

“honey, you should tell me if I ever say stupid shit– you should call me out immediately–”

“You didn't say anything stupid or whatever. I'm the one who's being stupid.”

his hold on you loosened, he shifted back to give you space to turn around, “What did I say? Hey, look at me,” you finally turn in his hold, facing him “what did I say?”

“We’d have the cutest little kids, won't we?”

“..what?” You stood infront of the kitchen sink. your hands stopped their scrubbing at the pot you were washing. You tilted your head towards him who had his head rested on your shoulder, his arms around your waist.

“Little Harringtons”, you could hear the smile on his lips.

“Harringtons?”

“Or maybe we get our names hyphenated. That works too, it’d be cute”, his hands hold your waist, his duty of drying the plates abandoned. “They’d have my fabulous hair, and your pretty, pretty eyes– cutest kids around the block”

“Our kids?” you repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, and six of ‘em. six little nuggets. They’ll make up half of a football team”, he giggled, warm air hitting the side of your face, “Doesn’t that sound lovely?” he smiled at you.

“...yeah. Yeah, it does.” you smiled back at him which only made him grin wider. His arms tighten around you again, and lips start a trail from behind your ears to down your neck.

You scoffed softly "You’re supposed to help me wash dishes you filthy animal."

“Oh, fine,” he gave you an over dramatic sigh, before his hands left your sides, skin feeling lonely as ever.

“No, it's fine. I’m almost done anyway", you went back to scrubbing at the bottom of the pot, "Just go and take a shower, you reek.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll go!” he groaned, playfully as a kid, before he leaned against the counter, looking at you with his ‘Harrington charm’. His voice is silky when he asks, “Will you join me?”

“Steve." you said it almost as a warning.

“I don’t hear a no.”

“Okay then, no.”

“Tomorrow morning…?”

“I have an early shift tomorrow, you horndog.”

“We'll make it work.”

“No.”

“Okay", he sighs, “come up quickly though, I wanna be the big spoon today”, pecking your cheek before leaving for the shower upstairs.

Looking at him, you brush the now mostly dry hair falling on his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Your fingers lingered there, you smile, “nothing, Steve.” your thumb rubs back and forth on the apple of his cheeks. “You didn’t say anything. it's stupid.”

His hand reaches up to hold your fingers in place, he turns his head a little to kiss your knuckles, “okay, I didn't say anything” he kisses your knuckles again, gaze stuck to your face, “but could you tell me what it is you think you’re being stupid about?”

God, I love him, you think. “Don't worry about it”, your voice barely a whisper as you attempt to give him a smile. You move closer, planting a slow kiss on his lips which are so much softer than yours– he never forgets his chapstick.

And god, you needed this, your brain stops when you kiss him. thoughts quelled and its quiet again. After some time though, your throat starts to burn and your chest is on the verge of a sob. So, when you pull away, you fail to hide the stuttered breath that you take in.

Steve knew there was something to worry about, but when he hears your breath that almost sounds like a sob, he’s immediately on high alert. Before he can brush your hair out of your face to look at you, really look at you, you bury your face in his chest.

It takes him a second to realize that you’re crying and it breaks his heart because you’re trying to hide it.

“Baby..” he feels you curl in further, your face warm against his skin. He moves to pull you in closer, palm holding the back of your head. He just wanted to take away whatever it was that was bothering you. He tried to pull away to get a look at your face to help you calm down but you wouldn't let him. He settles on carding his fingers through your hair, rubbing circles on the little sliver of exposed skin between your t-shirt and shorts, hoping it gives you some sort of comfort.

"Honey", it is then that you finally let in a shaky breath. he feels the skin where you hid your face get wet maybe with tears, sweat, snot, he didn't care-- he just wanted to take all your pain away.

You both stay that way, and you're suprised by how much you sob, how hard you heave. You weren't sure how long you stayed that way, maybe minutes, maybe hours, however long. It feels like forever.

At this moment, encased in Steve's arms, breath hot against his skin, despite the nose plugged with snot, lashes clumped with tears, eyes squinted shut, you think this is comfortable. Yet it hurts. Because you'll have to pull away. It hurts so damn much because you know how this can go, you know it can hurt so, so much more. You know it will hurt.

You want this to last forever, however fucking long one of those is.

So, you hold on longer because, you’re selfish with your love for Steve. You're selfish because despite the heartache, you’ll have him, for as long as you can.

His hold on you gentle yet firm, as if afraid he'd break you. In your head, he already had. He tries to pull away again, to look at you but you can't. Your eyes still squinted close, willing it all to be a stupid dream. “Honey, I promise you whatever it is, you can tell me”, he says, voice soft as feather. Of course it's not a dream.

Your tongue betrays you, “Its…s–” stupid. Silly. It really doesn't feel stupid or silly, but god, you're so scared that you can't say it, you didn't want to say it because if you do it’ll come true, wont it?

“Whatever it is that you think is stupid," he assured you as if he could read your mind, "I still want to hear it because I know I won't think it's stupid."

suddenly it burns, and you need air. you sit up and try not to think about how ridiculously not pretty you probably look with snot running down your face, “What if- what if we- we end up hating each other?” you manage to say through hiccups.

“What?” he sits up as well, he says as if you had said the most ridiculous thing, “I'll never hate you, honey.”

For some reason, tears fill your eyes again at that, “Steve, you don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No. Ste– people fall out of love, Steve- all the- all the time.” It terrifies him how convinced you sound of it.

“Do..... do you think you’ll fall out of love with me?”

The question startles you, its evident in your wide eyes, “Wha– what?”

“Do you think… you’ll fall out of love with me?" he repeats, "You think you’ll hate me?”

You shake your head, the tear that had been sitting on your lower lash finally slides down your already tear-stained cheek.

“Good." he wipes the wet trails left behind with his thumb, "then, why would I hate you?”

Your face twists into an expression that Steve wasn't sure what to describe it as. a deep frown on your lips, chin wobbly, brows scrunched up together, eyes red and tired yet nostrils flared. “‘Cause", you start but before you could continue another sob leaves you. you look down at your lap, trying to catch your breath. it takes you a minute before you begin again, "do you remember.... what you said about our kids?”

He nods, heart clenching at the way your voice breaks, “I don't think I can… do that”, he doesn't think he's ever heard you sound so broken. “I– I don't think if I– if I want that.”

He sits silent and you think this is it. maybe forevers aren't that long after all.

More tears fall, more sobs leave you, you don't bother to wipe them. What's it matter anyway? He hates you already. He's probably thinking of a way to let you down easily because he is kind like that “Honey.. I want a family..” you feel your heart ripping in two and you just can't look at him.

“And I want you to be a part of that family. I– I want you to be the person I built a family with, no matter the size." He wipes at both your cheeks again, making you look at him, "even if its just us.”

The relieved smile he expected from you isn't there, instead, you frown, the crease between your brows deepens. the part that hurt the most was that you push his hands away, “you’re saying that now, but what happens when years down the line, when we’re old, you– you end up resenting me. Y- you love me right now, I know. But how do you know you wont end up hating me like, ten years later?”

“I dont want to watch you grow old and hate me and then leave me, Steve. I’d rather end this now if we’re destined to just end up unhappy together.”

“We’re not. Okay? We’re not. I know I wont hate you, ever.” He reaches for your hands again. He kisses your fingers before continuing, “And I know that I want you, just you and whatever that– that that comes with. We could never have kids and I would never hate you for it.”

“You won't be happy", you say meekly, like he'd be mad at you for speaking what was on your mind to him, “You wont hate me but you wont be happy either”, you muttered, chin ducked into your chest.

“Honey”, he hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head to make you look at him, to make you understand. “you’re what I need to be happy. You make me happy. And.. I’d hope you need me to be happy too”, a wet chuckle escapes you at that. A hint of a smile on your face despite the tears.

“You do, don’t you?” he clarified with a soft smile of himself.

You nod, "yeah", letting out a loud sniffle.

“Good. I know its scary but you’ve gotta put your trust in me. Trust me enough to believe in me when I say that you are what makes me happy. and I am happy."

He wipes away gently at your face, ridding it of the tear stains, “Sometimes, you’ve just gotta trust. I promise I’ll never break it.”

You sob again but it's lighter than before, you wrap your arms around his neck and feel the weight you felt get lifted, you sniffle into the crook of his neck, "thank you."

You feel his lips on your hairline, "Let's go back to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah. You still wanna be the big spoon?"

"yeah, I think you need to be the little spoon today." he pulls you down with him, your back to his chest, kissing the skin behind your ear he finally settles in beside you.

You call out his name, he hums in response. "how long do you think a forever is?"

"I don't know, honey."

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"Um.. if you mean us staying forever then yes, definitely forever. But, if you meant me being the big spoon forever, baby, I'm not sure if I'll be able to commit to that."

You laugh, "I love you." you confess.

"I love you too."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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mono-dontidae · 3 days ago

Text

say it

c/w: pointing out insecurities (everyone except kenma cause i dunno how kenma woukd make point an insecurity out), cheating (just kenma), pure angst no fluff, not proofead

a/n: no lev because i love lev he could never be mean!! haha!! (im running out of shit to write pls recc me a school or 3 ppl to continue this idek)

pairing(s): kuroo, kenma, yaku x !fem reader

kuroo

you weren't the brightest. but you certainly weren't dumb. you just needed a little help with your studies. however, you were amazing at other things; sports, curricular activities and communication pursuits. kuroo admired how determined you were at trying to be better with your studies though. the way you'd do your best to help your other classmates with things neither you understood. he caught himself smiling at the sight of it. maybe that's why he loves you so much. all up until one day, it's been a particularly hard day for him. training's been horrible and you just kept bugging him for a study date. "does it have to be me? i'm sure you could ask like.. kenma or something", he asked you, trying to contain his annoyance. you refused, wanting your boyfriend to help him. you felt more comfortable around him and you feel that spending time together was a good idea. he thought otherwise. "fuck, can't you just get the hint? i'm fucking tired. why can't you be like [girl's name]? she's pretty, funny and smart. you're just a good face with no thought behind it. just get the hint, okay? it's real fucking annoying.", his words harsh and blunt. he couldn't think. "what? don't be petty, tell me directly 'no'. there was no need to compare me with her anyways.", you replied back, hurt. you didn't mean to act so persistant on it. "you're almost worst than lev. it's embarrassing enough to have a girlfriend who's shitty at school, like, why're you here in the first place?", he laughed almost, seemingly twisting the knife. he walked away while you just stood there, insecure.

kenma

"pfft.. haha..", kenma kept smiling as he texted on his phone. you were both eating a bento you made at a park, afterschool. he hasn't had a single bite yet and making conversation with him was impossible. "mm.." "uhuh" "yeah." "crazy." "oh?" "ah." was all he ever replied back with his eyeballs staring at his screen, his fingers making a longer sentence than his mouth ever could. "oh, for fucks sake.", you finally spat. you snatched kenma's phone away, getting him to finally look at you. "what're you doing? i'm talking to a brick wall here ken, what could be mor-", you paused as you looked at what the contact was saved as. "honey ♡". a heart? are you serious? "ken? what in the fuck is this?", you got up, angry and fuming. understandable honestly, who wouldn't be? "oh. that's.. uhm", he darted his eyes to the side, unable to answer you. ".. an online friend..", that answer of his only filled your rage. "no friend would ever be thought to be named 'honey' with a heart, ken. what the hell, what gives? i thought we were good, what's up with this?!", you asked him, confused. you sounded desperate for an answer from him, a boy who's always of few words. "i don't know. she's always been.. available. she plays all the same games as me, likes the same anime's as me and always been interested in what i like.", he said, matter of factly. you placed his phone onto the banch you were both sitting on a bit too harshly. "and what, that justifies you to just cheat on me?! you could have just broken up with me!", you stepped forward, now facing infront of him. this was all so stupid. "you and i have never been in the same intrest bubbles. she's more fun. you're boring. she's cool about anything too, you're super uptight. i just stayed to make you pleased i guess. i don't know.", he replied half-assed. it's almost like he was never bothered. almost like you never mattered. you were just another person to him and he kept the lable going to delude you of happiness. how embarrassing it must be to be so unaware.

yaku

you were cool, tall, charming and apart of the nekoma female volleyball team. it's how you and yaku met in the first place. deep down, you weren't as masculine or stoic like how you seemed on the outside. you didn't dig your stereotyoe much and hid how you were girly, sweet, nice and overall being pretty feminine knowing it didn't suit you. your height and athletism has been an insecurity and always wanted to be "pretty like other girls". obviously, you both got stared at in school or public by the height difference and such but it never mattered. or did it? "hey, suke? you wanna have lunch later?", you appoached him in class that morning, happy to see your boyfriend. he looked a bit startled when you approached his desk. he looked up, seeing you tower over him. you were a foot taller but you didn't mind being taller than him. however, yaku has always been insecure of his height. lately the teasing of his classmates and team has gotten to him. "oh, hey. no thanks, babe. i'll be eatingg with the guys today.", he replied curtly. you felt a bit dissapointed but you still festered a smile. you handed him a packed lunch. "alright. here, then. i made you something.", it was cute, floral patterned wrapping cloth containing a little surprise note you wrote inside. "oh. thanks.", he stared at it. you waved him goodbye before walking to the other side of the classroom to your desk. later at lunch, he walked to the class next door where kuroo, kenma, fukunaga, yamamoto and inuoka were. they waved him a hello as he approach, your bento in hand. yamamoto pointed it out first, "yo, your little girlfriend made you lunch? oh, wait. you're the little one, sorry!", then laughed and the rest followed. "pfft, lay off him. we all know height doesn't matter. but how's being the girlfriend, huh?", kuroo barked next. the rest laughed once more, irritating yaku more. he sat, unveiling the lunch. your note was his last straw, 'hope u love this, honey! lot's of love, y/n. p.s, i made sure to cut the crust off your sandwich this time!'. "nevermind!! she's just your mom at this point, man! haha!", yamamoto laughed as he peeped at the note. he got up angrily and threw the bento onto the floor. "look, it's not my fault my girfriend's a freak. she's tall as shit and theres nothing i can do about it. she can't even be girly 'cause let's face it, it'll never suit her. she chose me 'cause i'm the only person willing of taking her. no dude in the right mind would date her; you're right, she's a boyfriend at most! i shouldnt've even dated her from how embarrassing it is!", he rambled as the class was silent. then there you were, in the doorway watching. you were just walking past the class to head to the canteen and he was exploding before your eyes. everyone looked from him to you, crickets playing. some were staring at you with pity, some trying not to laugh, some in shock and some confused.

ts so ass highkey 🥀

#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #angst #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x reader #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #yaku morisuke #yaku x reader #nekoma

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after-witch · 2 years ago

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Scaramouche + “I regret to inform you, my Lord, but I believe I may have fallen ill while you where away.”

The words you put so neatly to paper were done on a whim. You were bored and restless, maybe a little bitter, that someone who refused to let you access the greater wide world would feel justified in leaving you alone--not literally, though you hardly call a handmaiden and guards who won't converse with you outside of stilted repetition of their orders much better--for weeks at a time. Even if it was on some important business, something he couldn't get away from, and so on, as he told you.

So you wrote them down in a flourish,. To worry him, to bother him, maybe that was one and the same. You expected to get a vexed letter back... maybe even new orders to the guards to bring in a physician to examine you

What you didn't expect was to be woken in the dead of night by the sound of furious footsteps and snapping words, by the clang of guards' armors as they sprang to attention on what would have been an otherwise boring night watch.

What you didn't expect was your bedroom door to fling open, revealing Scaramouche, eyes wide and pupils large, breath puffing out in a furious huff.

But that is exactly what has happened, and now you're sitting up in bed, hair askew, your own eyes wide with fright. You cling to the luxurious blanket covering you in your thin night clothes.

"M-My lord!" Because what else is there to say, when your Harbringer husband storms in when he isn't supposed to return for another 4 weeks?

He's standing next to the bed before you can think or blink, face pink with exertion and perhaps anger.

"What's wrong? Have those idiots I left in charged called for a physician yet? Do you have a fever? Have you thrown up? You were the only one who bothered to write of your illness. I should have their heads."

The barrage of words leaves you at a loss. You didn't think he would be this upset.

"I... I..."

He grabs at you, clutches at your wrist, fingers pressing on your pulse, fast and frightened from your unexpected awakening.

"Spit it out," he says, but rather than pure irritation there's something woven into his words that gives you pause.

Fear?

Perhaps it's this realization that gives you the courage to push forward. You swallow and speak slowly, giving your voice some much needed hoarseness for good measure.

"I'm... feeling better now," you say, voice tiny and unsure. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worried you. I had a terrible headache and stomach pains, but it passed a few hours after I wrote my letter, and I didn't think to change it."

His lips curl into a frown. He looks you over, perhaps taking in whether or not the sweat on your forehead is from heat or nervousness or the aftermath of illness.

And then his hand goes to your forehead, and your stomach clenches--it reminds you of your mother.

He tsks.

"You're still warm," he says, after some consideration.

Are you? Or is it a lie he's telling to make you feel better? Or to make himself feel better, for having come all this way in such a state?

"Lie down. I'll have a servant bring you something cool."

There's nothing to do but ease yourself back down on your pillows, watching the Harbringer that has made yourself your husband, and wait to see what comes next.

#yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #afterwitch writes

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diazsdimples · 10 months ago

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Here's a cute fact about the first year of Buck and Eddie's relationship. Buck decided to surprise Eddie with one gift for every week of their first year together.

It started completely by accident because they were going for a walk, and Buck realised it had been a whole week since they'd finally confessed their feelings for each other! So, while Eddie found a public bathroom (he's got the bladder of a child and Buck teases him so hard for it), Buck ducked into a tourist shop, panicked at all the stuff that was there, and found Eddie a small, carved elephant. He presented it to Eddie while they were on the beach, all shy and cute with a little "happy one week, baby."

The second week was also accidental - Buck had been at the grocery store and found a pretty red rose, and had a flashback to Eddie grumbling at one point that all his girlfriends expected him to get them flowers, but no one ever got him flowers! So he got Eddie the rose and politely pretended he didn't see how misty eyed it made Eddie.

The third week was a little book on cool fungi that Eddie had spotted when they were looking for a birthday present for Chris. He'd been looking at it wistfully but apparently couldn't justify the price (Buck could though, so he bought it and hid it in Eddie's locker)

By the 4th week, Buck's realised he's started a Thing. He woke up on the morning of the 4th week, and hadn't found anything so h went outside, fretted around a bit and fond a really cool rock, which he gave to Eddie. He told Eddie that otters have favourite rocks and Eddie reminded him of an otter, so therefore needs a rock of his own. He stole it back later that evening and painted it in a pretty orange/pink pattern that Eddie loved.

And so it continued. Buck would find something small (or maybe something big, like one time he accidentally bought home this big grand clock he'd found at the antiques store and Eddie teased and teased him about it when he said it was for Eddie because "baby when have I ever shown interest in clocks") every week, and every week Eddie would hold him close and thank him for the gifts.

Around the 48th week, Buck realised that 1. they've become hoarders a little bit and 2. it's almost been a year and what the fuck does he get his boyfriend that already has 48 other gifts?? He goes to Hen and Chim and Bobby about it, and they're also at a loss, because as Bobby says, it's not like Eddie's short on things these days. Chimney very helpfully says "well I would tell you to get him a skateboard that doubles as a backpack but that was last week's gift so..." It's only then that Hen asks if he's ever considered asking Eddie to marry him.

That's it sorted. Buck's going to get Eddie a ring for the 52nd week. Nothing feels right when he goes to jewelers, though. They're all too standard and boring, and nothing feels like BuckandEddie. He ends up finding this very cool lump of obsidian in a box from his travels, which he takes to the jeweler and asks if they can turn it into a ring. They can't, because it shatters, but they do make a band out of gold and create an inlay of obsidian in the band. Buck plans this big, elaborate proposal for their 1 year anniversary, which naturally Eddie accepts. Eddie makes Buck promise never to buy him anything again, which of course Buck can't do but he makes the gifts a lot less frequent and more practical.

#james writes #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 buddie #911 abc #911 #eddie x buck #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #buddie headcanon #buddie proposal

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gothic-aesthetic-gal · 6 months ago

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Old Scars (Part 1)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

P.s. I live in the U.K. and have tried to use language that fits being an American in Gotham city, but there will definitely be some words I haven't caught that may be UK specific. 😅

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.

"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"

Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.

By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.

"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."

I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he'd said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.

What I wouldn't give to see them all humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy - and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.

The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.

I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".

I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.

"Can I help you with something?"

The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.

"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.

"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.

Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.

"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something a teenager might pick out as their prom dress.

When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.

"It is lovely," I murmured.

"Do you want to try it on?"

"If it isn't too much trouble..."

Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.

"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.

I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.

I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.

I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.

She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare and beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.

I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.

"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.

The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.

"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.

The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.

Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.

After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;

"Everybody get down!"

"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.

I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.

"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.

Our curtain was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.

"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.

In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap. A few connected with him but I was ultimately no match for the man towering over us.

"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.

Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and haul me out into the open. The barrel of a gun was quickly jammed into the small of my back.

"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.

A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.

"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.

"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.

"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.

"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.

They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.

"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.

It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.

He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dust and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches throughout. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.

As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.

"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.

"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.

"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.

I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.

"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.

"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.

"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.

I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.

She didn't seem to know how to answer.

"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.

His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.

"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.

I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.

He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.

"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.

"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.

He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.

In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.

Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.

He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.

"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"

I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.

"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.

Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.

"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.

He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.

His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.

The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.

"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.

The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.

He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.

"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.

"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.

"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.

There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.

Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.

"Up you get!"

Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.

"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.

The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.

"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.

My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.

"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.

Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.

I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.

"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".

"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.

He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.

"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.

Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.

#joker #the joker #joker fanfiction #heath ledger #dc joker #dc comics #batman #the dark knight #the dark knight joker #ledger!joker #ledger joker #joker x reader #batman fanfiction #nolanverse #gotham fanfiction #gagwrites

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paintthetownblack · 5 months ago

Text

After That Night

Eric Northman x reader

Part I ; Part II

Eric may begin to trust you, but there's a long way left to go. The plot thickens.

Mild spoilers for seasons 4 and 7.

I had slept all day, but I was still tired, and my thoughts were slow to form and slow to sink in. I was in front of the mirror with the corset marks and my musings about them, for a while, before remembering that the basement door had closed, but that I hadn't heard it lock. It wouldn't be an accident, it had to be an invitation to ascend.

I searched for a top to put on, but there was nothing. I suddenly felt overwhelmed. I had started to cry, when I saw the blanket on the fainting couch. I sighed at it, and I wrapped it around myself. I couldn't get it to stay up, I had to hold it with my hands, as I ascended the stairs, and entered the main room of Fangtasia.

Eric was there, sitting down, elbows resting on his knees, watching the basement door. He practically appeared in front of me, when I advanced a few steps, he seemed confused by my appearance. "Are you crying?"

"I was, a bit. I would like a shirt, if it's not too much to ask."

"Pamela." His voice resounded, and he got no response. "Pamela!" He shouted louder.

"You're no fun." She replied very cooly, as she walked up to me, from one of the back rooms, with a piece of hand luggage. "Neither are you." She placed the bag in my hand, as the other still held the blanket.

I went to the powder room, with the bag. I didn't feel like thanking her, I was losing my good humor. In the powder room, I realized those were all the clothes I had brought to Louisiana. Paused. This was everything I had brought. Everything from my old life. And now, it was in my new-new life, and I was technically a complete package. I felt that I could throw this bag over my shoulder and sink into the night, leave behind nothing but a scarce paper trail of broken leases and forwarded mail.

But I couldn't leave, the vampires outside the door wouldn't let me. Even if they did let me, would I want to? I had hit a breaking point, just moments ago, when I had found myself half naked, and alone, in the basement, with seemingly no sympathy directed at me; and I half wished I could go back to that panic now, I feared that the panic was the appropriate response, the response of self preservation, and that I was being foolish, to bounce right back from it, over an ounce of concern from Eric, and a bag of clothes. But I couldn't escape the situation, even if I did panic. What good did panic do? And if my instincts told me that Eric meant me no harm, that Pam had been truthful in the basement, what reason did I have to doubt them? My intuition never had led me astray. I found my composure again, fully. I got dressed.

My arrival interrupted a conversation between him and Pam. They both looked at me in sudden, perfect silence. "Can I speak to you in private?"

"I was going to suggest the same thing. Let's take a walk." Eric took me by the arm, throwing a look back at Pamela, whose expression was still cool and distant. I couldn't justify the change in her attitude from last night.

Eric and I walked quietly. As soon as we stepped out of the building and the open sky was above me, I felt my mind clearer. My anxieties, lessened. The moon was so bright, that the sky glowed a lighter, softer blue, and it radiated down onto the trees, and onto Eric's hair and face, and on his shoulders. His top was sleeveless, letting show the outline of his arms.

We walked until we came to the edge of a lake. Eric let go of my arm and stood still, watched the water for a long time. The moon reflected in it, the blue moonlight reflected off of it, and it was motionless, like the entire forest around us. It was the quietest night in my memory. I was looking between the moon, the lake and Eric. I couldn't decide which one was more beautiful, or older. Well, I caught myself, the moon was obviously older than Eric, but they had been around and together a long time. What a thing the moon must be for him, the only intermediary for sunlight he could have. That goes for all vampires, of course, but I felt for Eric in that moment specifically. Meanwhile, he was reliving an important memory, I felt.

I slipped off my shoes, to feel the grass under my feet. As quietly as I could. The dreary day of sleep I had had was almost forgotten, almost faded. Why was it, though, that we only seemed to connect out in the woods, and not at Fangtasia?

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm thinking about?" Eric broke the silence, but not the spell. I still felt that unexplainable connection, unbreakable closeness.

"It looks personal. I don't want to intrude."

"That's a first. May I?" He reached for the hair around my neck. I stepped back, and tripped over one of my shoes, I stumbled a bit and he tried to catch me, but I caught myself first, and I stood straight.

"No, wait. I want to talk to you."

"We can talk after."

"You won't want to talk after, you'll say we're late, you'll rush me back, you'll put tape over my mouth-" I was arranging my hair around and over my neck, as though it helped.

"We're not sitting at Fangtasia tonight. Pam will oversee everything. We do need to talk." He sounded serious.

I was surprised, it didn't sound like the preface to a good discussion "well, even so, I would rather you waited."

"Why?" He came closer to me, to my mouth, his voice was very low.

"Because. My head will start to spin, and I'll forget... what I have to say." I swallowed.

"Does my feeding on you make your head spin?" That low voice was astonishing. "What is it with your bloodline and vampires?" He wasn't teasing, he sounded genuine, and baffled.

"That's a good starting point. What is it about you and my bloodline?"

"Your cousin... Her blood is special, and she is special. Which is why I had to let her go. But you? You came into my path of your own volition. Into my place of business. I think that exempts me."

"I don't think it does. This arrangement was not my idea."

"This arrangement is the best thing you could have hoped for, with your circumstances. Do you have any idea what I've lost to humans and their medical experimentation?" His voice was rising, I was starting to see his anger and his pain come to the surface, although I could tell this was but a fraction of what he was really feeling, deeper down. I tensed up, because my heart genuinely broke for him, even though, in truth, I had no idea.

"What reason have I given you to suspect me of something like that?" I wasn't hurt by what he said, but I felt the need to clarify that I wasn't that type of medical researcher.

"You haven't given me any reason to the contrary."

"Haven't I?" I countered faster than I could have blinked.

He looked at me with a kind of bewilderment. He continued to look at me, his eyes softening by the second. I could feel my heart pounding. He brought his face down towards mine, and he kissed me. I wanted him so badly in that moment, but I was shocked, and I froze. Then, I started to kiss him back. I brought my hands to his face, I wanted to enjoy the moment, and go slowly, lightly. He seemed to want to swallow me whole, he was moving so fast, he dragged my lip with his teeth, and almost growled, he was pulling me in closer and tighter. I kept one hand on his cheek and brought the other across his chest, then got away from his mouth. I whispered for him to slow down. I kissed him softly once, he frowned, he sighed. I kissed his jaw, his cheek, his eyelid, his brow, his forehead, the tip of his nose. He leaned into me. Then, I kissed him again, on the lips, and he seemed to understand that we had time, and that I was his, because I very much wanted to be. He brought his hands around my waist. They were so big, he might just have grasped my whole midline between them, almost. Then he brought them to my upper back, pulling me to his chest. I wanted to tear his top, I wanted to feel as much of his skin on my skin as I could, but, instead, I pulled away again "bite me. Please." His fangs came out.

He knew I was serious, he still looked at me for a second, and he kissed my neck a few times, before he bit me. His muffled moans were giving me chills, in a good way. And again, I felt no pain, but everything else was different now. The way he was holding me against him, the tingling sensation left behind on my lips, they were adding to this primordial experience of giving my blood to another creature.

When he pulled away, I again rested my head on his chest. Holding me, he sat down slowly, to lean against the tree behind him.

"What did you mean by not wanting to go back to the dark?" I asked him. Not knowing how I knew to ask it.

He looked at me, with his blood covered fangs hanging from his mouth. "How could you possibly know about that? I shouldn't even remember that."

"It just came to me." It was like a trance, the light-headedness from having been fed on, combined with his intoxicating presence, and the full moon; I came up with one image of him, in my mind. Of Eric in the day light, next to Sookie and a naked man. Eric burning in the sun, but very slowly. His fear was as authentic as if it had been my own. He was wrapped up in a red duvet, and he said it "I don't want to go back to the dark", and the dream ended. I felt his pain, but he looked adorable wrapped in the duvet.

"This is exactly why we need to talk." He whispered into my hair. He leaned his cheek against the top of my head, and waited for me to come down. I think it took a long time, because, by the time I lifted my eyes and opened them again, the moon was not very high in the sky anymore. The night was darker.

Eric picked me up in his arms and we flew to Fangtasia. This was an urgent matter. Too urgent to walk, but not urgent enough to wait for me to settle down. Interesting.

He put me down, before storming in through the door and breaking up the party. He was kicking people out very unceremoniously, with his fangs out, and blood on his face.

But I looked worse, walking behind him. I had blood on my neck, but also on my forehead and in my hair, where Eric had rested his head. And I was barefoot. Seeing myself in the mirror behind the bar, I scared myself.

Pam demanded answers that it was not in my power to give, so she stood, arms crossed, next to me, waiting for Eric to clear everyone out. He then dragged three chairs in the middle of the dance floor and sat himself down, running his hands through his hair. Waiting for us.

The atmosphere was tense. Pam simply knew this was about me, she was not happy.

"Pam." Eric started. He looked at his progeny with a regretful air "You were right."

I felt sidelined. "About what?"

"I had a feeling about you, Eric convinced me it was nothing. I will never listen to him again." She stated without turning to look at me.

"Pam believed you read her mind, earlier tonight. And I told her that was impossible, no telepath can read vampire minds, and that you weren't even a telepath. Now, I see I was wrong."

"I am not a telepath. I can't read minds."

"Then what was that earlier, about me wanting you to feel my pain, from my human days?" Pam mocked.

"It was a guess." I answered.

"But how do you explain what happened at the lake?" Eric interjected, calmly.

"What happened at the lake?" Pam asked, less calmly.

"She tapped into a memory from when I was with Sookie, from when I was under the amnesia spell."

"She did what?"

"Amnesia spell?"

"One thing at a time, ladies."

"Yes, little miss bartender. Let's. One thing at a time. Explain." Pam was looking at me, finally.

"I can't explain." I looked from one vampire to the other. "What's an amnesia spell?"

They filled me in on the witch coven, along with some other wild occurrences from the past seven years, intercut with color commentary from Pam. All the while, the moon set, the sun rose, and Ginger arrived for her day watch shift, unwittingly letting the light in with her, as she opened the door. Still, she was permitted to stay in on the discussion. She too interjected commentary, off and on, though it was mainly about how hot Eric had looked, through the various trails and tribulations.

I was sure I wouldn't remember everything I was told, and certainly not in order, it was too much to even process.

Finally, Eric deemed it appropriate to dissolve the meeting and relocate to our sleeping quarters. I was tired, but I was not looking forward to it. I believed I carried some unresolved issues with the basement, and I didn't want to return to it. But I didn't have to. There was a coffin. A double, red satin lined, coffin, to which Eric designated me for the day, so that I wouldn't be out of his sight.

The coffin was an exciting premise, but it led me to a different line of inquiry. Was this a step up or a step down, with Eric?

Part IV

#fanfiction #true blood #eric northman #fluff #eric northman x reader #romance

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carlyraejepsans · 10 months ago

Text

UTY!Flowey, "lore" and how to criticize a fan prequel without being an insufferable pedantic, a guide by Biscia.

(for my muskless fellows, here's a transcript of my thread on Undertale Yellow that I posted on Twitter. enjoy!)

There's this really frustrating attitude in fan spaces i like to call "lorepilling" where people are substantially more concerned with encyclopedic knowledge of details & minutiae (so called "lore") in place of full-text thematic/narrative analysis as if the two are mutually interchangeable.

It's especially common in large franchises and story heavy videogames, and it's like... Are You Treating This Piece Of Art Like A Trivia Battle Or Are You Treating It Like A Story

This is coming from a person who is also deeply autistic about UTDR trivia btw, I'm just saying that when it comes to transformative *stories*, depending on the impact it has on character, themes, and narrative structure... lore is expendable.

Ultimately this is why most of the UTY criticism i see (on twitter specifically) falls flat. What does it matter if "lore" means Flowey couldn't chronologically be there when the justice human fell, as long as the game narratively justified his presence in the story in a compelling way?

The real criticism, in the end, is that it didn't.

He's a plot central, main cast character from the canon returning in a cast of mostly OCs and what does he have to show for it? An admittedly sick boss battle in 1/3 endings, sure but... not much else. He has no significant "presence" in the story, no tie, interaction, or even just... an opinion on the rest of the cast. Which is a huge miss when Flowey's meta role is to be Thee completionist player mirror. He's the OG lorepilled UT fan! He's an opinionated little shit!

This isn't to say that UTY *didn't* engage w/ his metanarrative. When me and @a-town-called-hometown first started playing the game (we were both skeptical of Flowey's inclusion), he immediately said "It would be really cool if they made it so this has been going on for a while and Clover has no idea". Which is precisely what the game did in the neutral ending, and what I will openly say was the most well written & well executed part of this game's story...

...a part we almost didn't see, because the pacifist ending disappointed us so much we lost all will to replay.

To put it in the words of my friend Mel @clowwwnbytes, there's a deafening hollowness to UTY Flowey's motivations & core principles where his guilt towards Chara—and resulting black and white thinking—should be. You're telling me Mr Kill-or-be-killed, "sacrificing yourself to do the right thing is stupid", would stand there after 1000s of failed attempts to make Clover survive, look on as they make the same mistake Asriel he did, and fondly call them friend? Cue the guitar, roll the credits?

He would lose it. Oh my god he would lose his goddamn mind, he would throw the nastiest temper tantrum in the world. Are you serious? How dare you. How DARE you. All this effort, all my patience, and you just let yourself DIE for a few worthless idiots? I should've let you ROT!

*clears throat* sorry got a bit too into character. as i was saying.

I can understand a UT prequel wanting to distance itself from the canon Chara storyline in order to form its own identity, but then turning around and choosing Insane About Chara The Character™ for a sidekick is... far from optimal. In the end, Flowey comes across as underutilized and inconsistent, with a whole lot of wasted potential.

This is an issue I have with UTY's character writing (original AND returning) and story structure as a whole. Lots of inconsistent character arcs, tonal dissonance, overuse of situational sadness... it's an amateurish work, after all, and you can feel it. There's no shame in that.

(Though, there ARE some issues that i take more seriously with its writing, especially when it comes to its two main female characters—Ceroba's lack of narrative agency and depth borders on misogynistic writing imo. But that's a topic for another day)

Over all, UTY was an incredible piece of collaborative transformative work, with gorgeous art and a genuinely incredible OST, which... would have benefited from more experienced writers. But hey, you can only ever learn by trying!

For all it could've been a better story, it certainly did not fail to entertain: both when my friend was playing it, and after in our many discussions of its writing, its faults and how it could've been improved (royal scientist!ceroba character fix you will always be famous. to ME!)

I'm sure this project served as an incredible source of experience for the developers: as individual creators AND as a team. I look forward to their future projects!

but also if i have to see another person say UTY is better than Undertale i might turn into The Jonker.

end of the essay! really couldn't stand any of the pedantic ""criticism"" I'd seen of this fangame so far, so i had to say my piece as someone more versed in analysis. happy to elaborate on anything in the replies or in my inbox!

#undertale #undertale yellow #uty #flowey #mywriting #metanalysis

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ninupi · 3 months ago

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could i request a manjiro fic or headcanon for akaashi!reader with the childhood best friends trope? yk, that they meet thanks to shinichiro and takeomi. i love your work! ♥️

best friends | s. mikey

₊˚⊹♡ tags; fem!reader, reader is kinda mean to Mikey, she's lowk a tsundere, she's also crybaby so if you don't like then don't read! imo its justified tho idk, she's ALSO a bit embarrassing, reader gets a bit insecure with the way she acts, she's got layers to her LMAO yeah just lmk if anything else

₊˚⊹♡ wc; 2,200+

₊˚⊹♡ a/n; this came out a lot more angsty then I intended LOL sorry about that

1998

You and Emma watched from a distance while her brother and your brother started play fighting. You noticed Emma shaking her head with a sigh. "Boys are so stupid… c'mon y/n." You let her drag you away, but your eyes stayed on the two boys until you couldn't see them anymore.

"Haru is stupid. I think Mikey is cool, though." Your words make Emma stop in her tracks and give you a disgusted look. "Ew!! What are you talking about?" She drops your hand, waiting for you to explain, but you just stare at her, speechless, not believing you said that out loud to her.

"Y/n do you like my brother?" she questions with that same disgusted tone from before, you quickly shake your head reaching for her hand again. She quickly pulls away not believing you and runs back in the direction of the two boys.

"Mikey!!! Y/n likes you!!" you quickly run after her trying to stop her from saying anything to the boy "Emma shut up!!! That's not true I don't like him!!"

2008

You're walking to Emma's house after school while she rambles about how Draken still hasn't asked her out but your thoughts are on a different blonde. "Are you listening y/n?" you turn to Emma who has a small pout on her lips.

You give her a sweet smile "Not at all, no" you laugh as her jaw drops and she softly whacks you on the arm "I'm sick of you talking about Draken! I'm just going to tell him to ask you out already" you groan throwing your head back to look at the sky.

"No you can't do that!" She panics grabbing onto your arm as a plea "And why not?" you shake her hold off running up ahead a bit and begin walking backwards "B-because then he'll just feel forced and it'll be like he didn't really want too!"

You roll your eyes at her ridiculous thinking while turning around "Emma are you dumb or are you stupid?" you can't help the grin on your face at her gasp but quickly start running when you hear her start to chase after you "I'm not dumb! Or stupid!"

"Yeah your not, but Draken is! Seriously I'm just going to tell him to ask you out!" You call out to the girl behind you "You do that and I'll tell Mikey you like him!" This immediately makes you stop running to face the girl behind you who bumps into you not expecting you to stop.

"I don't like Mikey, would you drop that?" you grumble gently pushing the girl off you "Oh come on y/n, why are you lying?" you give her a disgusted look before continuing in the direction of her house "Y/n~" she whines grabbing onto your arm.

It's been 10 years since you've 'liked' Mikey, and in your opinion a kiddy crush doesn't count "I was like 7 Emma, I don't like him anymore. I'm not you" you saying hinting at her life long crush on her brothers best friend.

He cheeks softly flush before she sighs "I know your lying, I just don't know why...I don't care if you like my brother anymore!" you give her an odd look "Seriously why do you think I like him still? That was like 10 years ago!" you can't help but laugh at the absurd assumption.

She gives you a look before a teasing smile forms on her face "You know we have a lot of sleepovers right?" your eyebrows furrow waiting for her to further explain "Did you know you talk in your sleep y/n?" This reveal makes your ears heat up.

"What are you talking about?" you question while you guys finally get to her house "You know," she shrugs opening the gate while walking in "No, I don't know!" you question urgently wanting to know what she's talking about.

"I like to talk about Draken while I'm awake, but you love to talk about Mikey while you're asleep." She giggles opening the front door stepping inside "Stop lying that's not funny, I don't sleep talk!" you insist hoping she's lying to get you to reveal the truth.

"You do sleep talk" You quickly turn after taking your shoes off to see Mikey eating a taiyaki giving you a blank look "I told you" Emma nudges while walking further into her house "You didn't know you slept talk?" Mikey questions with a full mouth giving you a confused look.

You stare at him a bit wide eyed while Emma smirks from behind him "N-no I had no idea I slept talk..." you mutter trying to walk past him but he only follows "That's so funny, I'm always talking to you when your sleeping" he laughs causing you to turn towards him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you interrogate him hoping you've only exposed your secret to Emma. "I mean its the only time you actually talk to me and aren't mean to me" he explains looking at you up and down motioning towards your hostile attitude towards him.

"I'm not mean to you" you mutter turning away from him hoping to get away from the conversation "You're a lot nicer when you're sleeping" You can hear the pout in his voice and when you turn towards him he has an unreadable look on his face.

After leaving Mikey in the hallway alone you and Emma headed to her room to complete your homework, then you insisted on staying in there to hide away from Mikey. But after a few hours Shinichiro had called the two of you out to go eat dinner.

Once you entered the kitchen you noticed that your bother and some of his other friends had shown up while you two (mostly just you) were hiding away in Emma's room. "How long have you been here?" Haru gives you a suspicious look while pointing at you.

"She came right after school, you know she didn't know she slept talk?" you slightly jump at Mikey appearing from behind you "Would you shut up about that?" you bark at him only to back away when he gives you a 'told you so' look about your conversation earlier.

"She's always slept talk, it's freaky" you quickly reach over the table to yank on Haru's long hair "You're freaky!" he glares at you planning to do the same to you "Hey! No fighting, please!" you turn to Shinichiro who has a desperate look on his face and quietly mutter an apology.

"It's funny, we're always talking to you when you're sleeping" Baji laughs causing everyone to softly laugh "It's not funny, why do you guys even do that?" you groan at this embarrassing conversation "Because you'll tell us anything when your asleep!" Takemitchi adds causing you to glare at him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you notice his smile immediately drop at your tone "Nothin- you always tell me how much you love me" Mikey casually says taking a bite of his food while everyone stares at him shocked.

You immediately stand up from the table feeling overwhelmed at all the eyes on you "Wait y/n- not now Emma" you brush her hand off you, heading towards the front door quickly slipping your shoes on walking outside.

Exactly how long has Mikey known about your crush on him? How long has everyone known about your crush on him? You thought you were doing a good job at hiding it just to find out you babble about it while you're asleep apparently. The thought makes you want to cry, it's so humiliating.

Everyone; Emma, Haru, Baji, Mikey himself knew about your crush and chose not to say anything to you. You guess that was his way of rejecting you just now, telling you he knew this entire time but didn't pursue anything. But how could you blame him?

Like he said earlier, you're always mean to him, it's not like you meant to be mean to him. Well...you did but only because you didn't want him thinking you liked him. Looking back on it now, it was stupid, Emma's always sweet with Draken and he loves her too.

Maybe you should've just been like Emma and been to sweet to Mikey, then maybe he'd actually return your feeling. All these what ifs make your head hurt and your eyes sting with tears, not wanting to cry you look up the dark sky hoping it'll stop your tears from falling.

Instead it just makes your tears fall after down your cheeks while you groan in annoyance 'this is nobody's fault besides my own' you think to yourself while bringing your hands up to your cheeks to dry them. "Why are you crying?"

You quickly turn to see Mikey with a confused but also somewhat sad look on his face "I'm not crying" you mutter turning away from him to quickly dry your tears. You can hear him slowly shuffling towards you "You're a shit liar" he whispers when he finally stands next to you.

You softly glare at him wanting to cry all over again seeing his face "What do you want Mikey?" you sigh with no bite in your tone which surprises him a bit. "I wanna know why you're crying," he says again with more emphasis as if he can't piece together the reason for your tears.

'I'm crying because you don't like me back' you cringe to yourself deciding not to say that outloud and save yourself further embarrassment "Mikey..." you sigh not wanting to explain and hoping he's just being dense "What? Seriously I want you to tell me why your crying" he says a bit agitated.

You furrow your brows at his tone now, does he just want you to say it out loud? Is he trying to get payback for your attitude for the last few years "You're being mean Mikey..." you mutter before you can stop yourself and you can't help the tears that sting your eyes once again.

He takes a defensive step back "Mean? How the hell am I being mean? I'm trying to help you!" you take a step closer to him "You're being mean! You know why I'm crying!" you point an accusatory finger at him.

"I don't know why you're crying! That's why I'm asking!" he argues throwing his arms to the side, you look at his face for any sign of him lying but all you see is confusion and annoyance "God you're so stupid" you mutter "Ok fine" he bites turning away heading back towards the house.

"Wait Mikey" you sigh realizing your words came out harsher then you intended "Mikey I'm sorry, come back!" you call out as he ignores you "Mikey please!" you can't help the small sob that leaves your lips as he gets further away.

Hearing your small cries makes Mikey stop in his tracks and turn towards you "I'm sorry, please come back" you're no longer trying to hide your tears, just hoping he'll give you another chance and come back to talk.

You watch as his face goes from a deep scowl to a frown and he slowly makes his way back to you "What's wrong? Seriously, why are you crying?" he genuinely questions unsure of the reason for all these tears "I'm sorry Mikey" you repeat over and over again.

"It's fine you call me stupid all the time- No I'm sorry Mikey. For all of that, for always calling you stupid, for always telling you to shut up, always being mean! I'm sorry..." you sob reaching for his hands and holding them close to your heart.

When he pulls his hands away it makes you want to cry even harder but before you can he quickly pulls you into an awkward hug. "What are you talking about? I don't actually care about that, that's just how you are, I'm used to it." he mutters squeezing you a bit tighter.

"I'm crying because you don't like me" you mutter getting over your embarrassment and just hoping to go back to how things were "Of course I like you y/n- No Mikey, like me-love me how I love you" you sigh wrapping your arms around him enjoying the embrace for the time being.

Mikeys silence makes your heart hurt but you only close your eyes and hug him tighter "I do love you stupid, I thought you knew that..." you try to pull away from the hug but he keeps a tight grip on you "You never hug me, let me enjoy this" he sighs taking a deep breath.

"But Mikey y-you love me? Why haven't you said anything?" you urge wanting to see his face "I seriously thought you knew, I always tell you when you're sleeping" You want to punch him in the stomach at his obvious tone.

'I'm sleeping though, how the hell would I know!?" you question softly jabbing at his stomach causing him to laugh softly "You always say it back! I just thought you were too embarrassed to say it when your fully awake" he explains grabbing your hands to stop them from touching his ticklish sides.

You think back to see if you even remember whispering it in your sleep but nothing comes up. Except the few times you've had dreams where Mikeys there, then it hits you, you two always exchange 'I love you's' in those 'dreams'.

You groan in embarrassment at the revelation trying to hide your face in Mikeys embrace "What happened? Finally remembering how you tell me you love me in your sleep" he grins trying to get a good look at your face "Mikey shut up!" you whine rushing his face away making him laugh loudly.

#ninupi #writing #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #fem reader #tokyo rev x reader #mikey sano #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey x y/n #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #sano mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro x you #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers sano manjiro

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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 months ago

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I've been reading your posts for awhile now and I genuinely enjoy reading your takes especially with Harry's characterization. so I've been wondering what are your thoughts on the lupin family? especially with teddy? although I still kinda dislike his parents' relationship i still think he's an interesting character and i wished people talked about him more outside of shipping. What would his relationship with harry be growing up? Also Lyall's death was never really confirmed, only hope's was so do you think he and Andromeda raised teddy instead of harry? It still feels odd that remus chose a 17 year old to be his son's godfather surely there were other suitable candidates than a literal teenager.

Thank you so much 💕

So, this is like entirely in my headcanon space since I did not watch/read Cursed Child and I'm not planning to. I don't consider any of the post-book material canon at all except the Quidditch World Cup in 2014, which I accept since it's fun and doesn't go out of its way to ruin established characters. I enjoyed reading it more than the epilogue, so that's something.

That being said, I often prefer to ignore many aspects of the epilogue and the World Cup article when headcanoning post-books events. I also don't engage much with next-gen stuff since I'm more interested in Harry's generation, but I do have some thoughts about Teddy.

With all this out of the way, let's talk about the Lupins.

So, I like Remadora, I think they're alright for the little we see of them. Tonks just deserves so much better than Lupin in my mind. I mean, he wanted to leave her, after he got her pregnant, for his own sense of inadequacy, guilt, and allergy to taking responsibility. Harry was so justified in ripping Remus a new one.

Now, I mentioned here, how I think Remus didn't make Harry Teddy's godfather because he thought Harry was ready (though Harry is more mature and responsible at 17 than Remus is at 37, so...), but as a way to promise Harry that he isn't going to push him, or Tonks, or anyone who loves him away anymore. It was Remus trying to apologize in a weird way that didn't really land. Especially since he goes and dies right after. (can you tell Remus is my least favorite marauder?)

Now, I find it really hard to imagine Remus as a father for Teddy had he lived. Like, I can see Tonks being a cool mom and her and Teddy matching hair colors when walking together and messing with people (and I think she could become more responsible had she lived longer). Remus is a harder one for me to envision as a parent. I mean, I think he'd be relieved that Teddy wasn't born a werewolf, but whenever he'd look at Teddy and Nymphadora, I think Remus couldn't help but feel sorry for himself and like he doesn't deserve them. While making Harry Teddy's godfather was meant to be a sort of promise, I can't see Remus fixing his habits so quickly. I mean, he'd try. But I can also see him, trying to up and leave a few times only to be talked out of it by various characters.

I think his behavior is going to put a lot of stress on Tonks too. Like, While I think they do love each other, I don't know how well their relationship would work in the long run if Remus doesn't bother to work on himself and get his fucking act together.

But in the books they both died, so Teddy is spared the mess his parents' relationship likely would've been and is instead stuck with a different mess of being an orphan with a 17-year-old caretaker. (This kid cannot win. Maybe because both his parents were kinda irresponsible and didn't quite get a grasp on adulthood when he was born)

So, post-DH, Remus and Tonks are dead, Ted Tonks is dead and we are left with a grieving Andromeda who lost all her family (again), a grieving Harry who just keeps losing people, and a newly orphaned barely a-year-old Teddy Lupin.

I think Teddy is an interesting mirror to baby Harry and Neville in a way. His parents died/couldn't take care of him because of Voldemort/his followers and he was left with only a godfather/grandmother. Teddy got both and his godfather isn't in Azkaban, so he has it a little better.

I like to imagine Harry makes sure to be super involved with Teddy's childhood, but I can't imagine a 17-year-old (almost 18) Harry post-war and maybe going back to Hogwarts for 8th year (depends on headcanon) being in a state to take care of a baby full time. I like to think Andy helps out in that first year a lot. I think Andy needs someone, some family to get her through loss. And I think Harry could enjoy Andy's company too. I'm sure she has plenty of stories about a young Sirius, and maybe even a young James, and in my headcanon, Andy somewhat adopts Harry as an extra son too.

Which means she ends up seeing way more Weasleys than she ever expected to. I think the Weasleys, who just lost Fred would understand a lot. I mean, both Andy and Molly lost a child and other family. I want Andromeda be more involved with all of them post-canon. That's my wish.

So Harry is Teddy's official guardian, but he spends loads of time with his grandma and the Weasleys growing up probably. Like, I don't mind him and Victoire being together, though I wouldn't necessarily have been my preferred choice, but I don't really care. They're probably childhood besties because they grew up together.

As for Teddy's relationship with Harry, I think Harry would end up treating him more like a much younger brother than a son. I mean, when Teddy would be 10, Harry would just be 27. Don't get me wrong, Harry could, technically, be his dad, but I think their dynamic is going to be different than that of Harry with his own children. Just because of how young and traumatized Harry is when he gets Teddy.

So, I think their relationship would have its tense points, but they'd also love each other. Like, you know Harry would do his best. He'd be super protective over Teddy, Andy would be, too. Like, no one messes with this kid.

But I also kinda want Teddy making a: "you're not my dad" joke/comment when Harry tries to send him to his room or something and Harry doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry the first time it happens. But I think it would become a recurring joke Harry laughs from.

I think the first years would be the roughest. Everyone's grieving and trying to settle back into a semblance of normal life. Harry never really had a "normal life" he's gonna have no idea what to do with himself and I think Teddy could be a purpose he dedicates himself to. I think these two and Andy could all help each other figure their lives out. But as Teddy grows older and things settle down, it becomes easier.

While I think Harry and Teddy would end up really close, it's not going to be exactly the same relationship Harry and Sirius had. Teddy is going to have a happy childhood, Harry and Andy wouldn't let it be any other way, so he won't have the same grief and trauma Harry did as a child. Like, their dynamic would be less desperate, I think. Like, Harry wouldn't need to stay in a cave and eat rats for Teddy, their situation would be way chiller. Like, I think Harry would be constantly confused about how Teddy ended up being such a cool kid/teen because he doesn't think he could've raised him like that and he would joke about it with Teddy who'd be all sarcastic like: "Obviously, I raised myself here,"

Like, I imagine Teddy with his mother's punk fashion sense and goofiness (the goofiness I believe was 100% shared by Ted Tonks), Remus' voice and constant self-doubt, Andromeda's posture (he sits with his back perfectly straight, okay, Andy didn't let him slouch by the table), and Harry's sarcasm. He's like this mix of them and still his own person.

I think Teddy is likely to go through quite a lot of personal phases to try and figure out his own identity and how he portrays himself. Becouse everyone treats him as the godson of the famed boy who lived, but his dead parents were the last Metamorphmagus and a Werewolf. And he is very close to his grandma, who is a disowned daughter of House Black. Like, this is a kid rip for angst about who he is and who people see him as and him being a Metamorphmagus really leans into it.

Like, a young Teddy making sure to look like Harry in public because he's proud of the connection. Or Teddy mimicking Remus or Tonks' appearance from photos when he thinks about them and misses them or wants to remind strangers who his parents actually are becouse they seem to forget. Like, that could be super fun.

I think Harry's kids would really like Teddy. He's like a cool older cousin/brother who lives with them. Like, I can see them really looking up to him and Teddy would complain to Harry about being followed around by a 3-year-old that won't leave him alone and Harry would just find the whole thing amusing.

(I can also see a post-war Andromeda getting back in touch with Narcissa, so you could involve the Malfoys too if you felt like it. Though I feel like Teddy would just, not like Lucius much)

(Also also, I think Lyall is dead. I feel like if he was alive we would know, yk?)

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #anonymous #hollowedtheory #harry james potter #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #teddy lupin #andormeda tonks #andromeda black #hp next gen

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