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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 7

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi ��🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky’s gut had been gnawing at him for weeks, a familiar, nagging feeling whenever Ian was around. Something about the man didn’t sit right, and Bucky couldn’t shake the sense that he’d seen this behavior before. His instincts kicked in, and he ordered someone to dig deeper into Ian’s past.

The brown envelope arrived the next day. Bucky sat at his desk, his eyes narrowing as he tore it open. Inside were the results of the investigation—pages that painted a much darker picture than he’d anticipated. As he skimmed the documents, his jaw clenched, and a low curse escaped his lips, “Shit.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, you and Bucky arrived at a shelter for single mothers, a stop on the campaign trail. The women inside had experienced hardships most people couldn’t imagine, fleeing from abusive partners and trying to rebuild their lives. Their stories of survival hung in the air, unspoken but palpable in their tired eyes and wary smiles.

You moved through the room, serving food and making small talk with the women, trying your best to offer some comfort. As you handed a plate to one woman, you said softly, “I understand what kind of psychological torment you’ve been through. I hope you stay strong.”

The moment the words left your mouth, what you’d meant as a word of encouragement didn’t land the way you’d hoped.

Later that night, a video of the conversation went viral. It was clear someone had recorded the interaction and released it online. Bucky knew this had to be the work of his opponents, seizing the opportunity to discredit you—and by extension, him.

You watched the video, feeling a pit form in your stomach as the comments poured in:

"Stay strong? She doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever been through what we have."

"She wouldn’t understand. She lives in a happy home. How could she possibly know what it’s like to run from someone who’s supposed to love you?"

Their words cut deep, slicing through your carefully constructed image. They didn’t know the truth—that your marriage to Bucky was its own kind of prison. Pretending to be the perfect wife had taken a toll on you, but no one saw behind the curtain.

You froze, feeling exposed, as if they’d somehow sensed the cracks in your façade. You had become so good at lying, at convincing the world that you and Bucky were happy, that now, faced with these women who had lived through real pain, you felt like a fraud.

Furthermore, you wanted to tell them that you understood, that you too had felt trapped and powerless. But the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you smiled for the cameras, playing your part, knowing that your life was being documented as an example of “happiness.”

Then your eyes landed on a comment that sent you reeling:

"If they’re so happy, wouldn’t they have a kid by now?"

The question hung in the air, mocking you. They didn’t know the truth—how could they? And yet, their words seemed to pierce through the mask you’d been wearing for so long.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The silence between you and Bucky was heavy, almost suffocating. You hadn’t said much since the shelter incident, and Bucky could sense your stress in the way you barely touched your food or drank any water. You sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched plate in front of you.

Bucky watched you for a moment before stepping closer, his brow furrowing with concern. He gently touched your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin.

“You have a fever,” he said, his voice low with worry.

You immediately pulled away from his hand, your body instinctively recoiling. Your stress had a way of manifesting physically, and whenever you were overwhelmed, your body shut down. This was no different.

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice hollow.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew this would happen, knew how your body responded when you were pushed too far. Without a word, he slipped his arm around you, supporting you as he guided you toward your room. You didn’t resist, too tired to fight.

“Just leave,” you said once you reached your room, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Bucky ignored your words. He sat you down on the edge of the bed, gently lifting your feet into his lap. You stiffened in surprise as his hands began to massage your aching feet. The familiarity of the gesture caught you off guard—he used to do this all the time when you were together, especially on nights when you came home exhausted, too tired to even think.

Your face grew warmer, though not just because of the fever. The tension between the two of you was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words hanging in the air. Bucky’s touch, once comforting, now felt like it held the weight of all the things left unsaid.

“I’ll bring the medicine,” he said after a few moments, his voice softer now.

You didn’t respond, too lost in the swirl of emotions flooding your mind. The way his hands moved, the care in his touch—it was all too familiar. It made your chest tighten with memories of when things weren’t this complicated.

As Bucky stood to leave, you finally spoke, your voice quiet and raw. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused, turning back to face you. “Because I care. I always do” His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the walls you’d built between you both cracked, if only just a little.

You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of the day and the fever pulled at you. Bucky noticed, his eyes softening. Without another word, he pulled the blanket over you and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You lay there, your mind racing despite your body’s exhaustion. His touch, his words, they lingered long after he’d gone. You hated that he still had this effect on you. And yet, deep down, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him, wanted to let your guard down. But after everything, how could you?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You woke up, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to your limbs, but something was different. The fever that had clouded your mind the night before was gone, leaving you with a sense of relief. Slowly, you sat up, glancing around the room. Bucky wasn’t here. It was the first time you’d been alone in the apartment since arriving.

The quietness felt strange, almost eerie. For a moment, you simply sat there, trying to shake the grogginess from your mind. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to explore the space. The apartment was large, meticulously designed, but there was a personal touch to it that reflected both of you. You wandered through the rooms until you stopped at his office.

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open. His office was a mess—papers and law books were scattered across the desk and shelves, as if he’d been too busy to organize anything. But something caught your eye, an area that was surprisingly tidy amidst the chaos: his vinyl collection. It was neatly arranged, displayed with care, each record in perfect order.

Bucky loved collecting vinyls. You remembered that about him. As you approached the collection, your eyes scanned the spines of the records. Most of them were from artists both of you used to listen to. Your fingers grazed over the albums, a nostalgic pang in your chest.

Then, something unusual caught your attention. Tucked between the vinyl sleeves was a piece of paper, slightly worn. Frowning, you pulled it out and realized it wasn’t just any paper—it was a letter.

You stared at the handwriting, your heart skipping a beat. It was Bucky’s handwriting. Slowly, your eyes widened as recognition dawned on you. It was a letter he never sent. A letter to you.

Your pulse quickened as a rush of emotions hit you. Should you open it? Guilt twisted in your stomach, but then that familiar voice—the devil on your shoulder—spoke louder. He wrote this for you. He never sent it, but it’s yours.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you quickly hid the letter under your shirt, glancing around the office as if someone might walk in at any moment. Your heart raced as you hurried back to your room, the letter burning against your skin like a secret you weren’t supposed to know.

Once in the safety of your room, you sat on the bed, staring at the letter in your hands. The room felt smaller, your breaths shallow. Was this right? Should you be reading this? But you couldn’t stop yourself.

With trembling fingers, you opened the first letter.

It was short, written in Bucky’s familiar scrawl.

"I’m sorry. I know everything we went through must have been painful for you, more than I ever realized at the time. We were close, but we never truly communicated. I knew you were hurting, and I did nothing to stop it. That’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.

One day, if we ever meet again, I hope you’ll give me another chance. You deserve happiness, and I wish you the best of luck in finding it, even if it’s not with me."

You blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. An apology. Words you thought you’d never hear—or read—from him. Your hands shook as you carefully unfolded another letter.

"I read your article. It’s really good. I always knew you’d make a great writer. You’ve always had a way with words. I’m proud of you. I hope you have a safe journey."

The words blurred for a moment as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You never knew he was following your work, that he cared enough to read what you wrote. It felt like a secret window into a part of him you thought had closed off to you long ago.

With a deep breath, you opened the final letter, bracing yourself.

"I’m worried about you. Going to a war zone as a journalist—it’s dangerous, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I pray every day that you’re safe."

Your chest tightened as you finished reading, the rawness of his words washing over you. Bucky had been worried about you all this time. His concern, his pride—it was all there, hidden in these letters you were never supposed to find. And yet, here you were, holding the pieces of his heart in your hands.

It was overwhelming. You didn’t know how to feel—angry, confused, touched. All you knew was that the walls you had built to protect yourself were starting to crack, and you weren’t sure if you could put them back together.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You and Bucky met Greg again to prepare before heading to the TV station for the debate. Greg, always thinking ahead, was pacing as he went over the final details. His sharp gaze darted between you and Bucky, trying to ensure everything would go smoothly.

As the minutes ticked by, Greg suddenly paused, his face lighting up with an idea. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before Bucky heads out for the debate, you could give him a peck on the cheek. You know, for the cameras. A little show of affection can go a long way."

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, your expression neutral. "Okay," you agreed simply. The decision seemed easy enough—just a small gesture for the public eye. However, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky’s brow arch slightly, a glint of surprise crossing his features.

Bucky glanced at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "How about a kiss on the lips instead?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your exasperation. "Shut up," you muttered, though the warmth of the moment lingered between you. Bucky chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the brief banter as Greg scribbled down notes, already planning how to work this into the media strategy.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The day of the debate finally arrived. The room buzzed with tension as cameras were positioned, reporters whispered amongst themselves, and the stage was set. You stood backstage with Bucky, watching as the other candidates made their entrances. Edgar, running for president, was calm and composed, the very image of a seasoned politician.

Then there was Brock, another candidate for vice president—and Bucky’s long-time rival. The two had been at odds for years, their competition fierce and personal. The air between them crackled with animosity as they took their places.

As the debate began, the moderators threw sharp, pointed questions at the candidates, each probing their policies and character. Bucky was in his element, answering each question with practiced ease. His words were clear, his tone confident, and his delivery flawless. Every question thrown at him was met with a precise, well-thought-out response.

Moderator: "Mr. Barnes, what would be your first priority in office?"

Bucky: "My first priority is to address healthcare. Ensuring affordable and accessible healthcare is the cornerstone of a strong nation. We must invest in preventive care and make it easier for families to access the support they need."

The audience nodded in agreement, and even the other candidates seemed to respect his answer. Brock, however, was struggling. Every time he tried to match Bucky’s eloquence, he stumbled, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to make a point.

Moderator: "Mr. Rumlow, what is your stance on education reform?"

Brock: "Well, uh, we need to… to invest in schools, yes, but we can’t just throw money at the problem. We need accountability, and we need… um, better results."

His answer lacked the conviction and clarity that Bucky’s did, and you could see the frustration in Brock’s face as the debate went on.

The tension between the two men simmered, especially as Bucky continued to outshine him with every answer. But just when it seemed like Bucky had the upper hand, Brock saw an opening—and took it.

At the height of the debate, Brock's voice cut through the air, sharp and malicious. "You talk a lot about honesty and integrity, Barnes. But what about your brother? Didn’t he hit someone and never face any punishment?"

The room fell silent, a heavy, uncomfortable stillness filling the space. From your spot backstage, you could feel the tension roll off Bucky in waves. His muscles tensed beside you, his jaw clenched tight. This was his darkest family secret, one he’d hoped to keep buried. But now, here it was, dragged into the spotlight in front of a national audience.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he shot Brock a cold, hard glare. For a moment, it looked like Bucky might lose his composure. The silence stretched on, the entire room holding its breath, waiting for his response.

But then, with a deep breath, Bucky straightened, his voice steady but laced with restrained anger. "My brother's actions were reprehensible, and there is no excuse for them. But unlike my opponent, I believe in accountability—and my family has taken steps to address that privately. This debate is about the future of this country, not digging up personal attacks to avoid talking about real issues."

The room shifted as Bucky’s calm yet pointed response cut through the tension. Brock, visibly thrown by how easily Bucky had deflected his attack, fumbled for his next words, but the damage had been done. Bucky had taken control once again, leaving Brock at a loss.

Backstage, you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of relief and pride swelling within you. Bucky had handled the moment with grace.

But you knew you couldn’t rest. With Shawn’s dark secret now exposed, it meant that your marriage to Bucky could be the next scandal to surface.

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months ago

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FOOLISH SPRING WINDS, BLOW MY WAY ; SATORU GOJO

summary; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo — who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends (..but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided), fluffy n sweet overall, satoru doesn’t know how to make friends + thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, he’s a little shit but he means well, switching povs, lots of gojo slander (but reader sees the light eventually), big shoujo vibes, they’re both tsunderes <33

a/n; i ended up scrapping the series i wrote this fic for originally, so i thought i’d rewrite it and repost it on its own!! teentoru is such a grumpy little kitten i need to squish his paws

satoru gojo is annoying.

it might seem blunt, but after many weeks of careful thinking, you’ve decided no description could possibly fit him better.

when you first met him, on that first day of school, you had no idea what to think. no real expressions or tonal shifts to clue you in on who he was, how he felt — nothing but the slightest peek of a terrifying blue to set your nerves on edge.

in hindsight, you’re almost certain it was intentional. he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand — observing you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his surname.

it’s a kind of power; a safety measure.

… but evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. the very next morning, he was already beginning to loosen up, after getting more accustomed to the new environment and classmates. showing you his true colours; just a little hint of cerulean, a single dip of paint on the blank canvas of his soul.

and with the revelation of his genuine personality — your unease around him festered even more.

where could you even begin to describe him? for one, he’s childish. and cocky. and loud. arrogant, selfish and flamboyant — just generally an asshole? you could go on and on. none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly up to something, eager to push someone’s buttons, to get attention. like a bratty toddler. uninterested in manners, or even common courtesy; he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it.

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless.

as if that wasn’t annoying enough — you have no choice but to admit that he does have a certain presence to him. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though. you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. freaky, long limbs. like a noodle and an alien had a baby.

but, more than anything — above all else — what frustrates you most is the fact that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it… gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those baby blues eyes and those snowy locks of hair. and he has no issue getting what he wants.

absolutely zero.

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way. like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. you can only assume he’s never given much thought to the prospect of being a decent guy, because that’s the only thing he sucks at.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

… annoying is still the most fitting word, though. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone, in his entire life.

and, yes — maybe you’re being a little harsh to him. but why should you bother being jovial when he won’t return the favour?

gojo is annoying; and when you say that, you mean annoying to basically everyone. as a basis for existing. always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. you’re no exception to this rule, of course. but you’re almost certain that he has it out for you specifically.

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re sure of it.

compared to geto or shoko, you aren’t very self-assured — and you think he must have sensed it the moment he laid eyes on you. sensed that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease.

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin. it started as soon as introductions were over, and it still hasn’t gotten better. he loves catching you off guard, throwing you an unneeded comment or two, just to see what reaction you’ll give him next. almost like he’s solving an equation — said equation being you, the limit of your patience. and you keep giving him what he wants; a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. you can never seem to successfully ignore him. he’s just far, far too good at being insufferable.

… and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. even when you try to get along with him, it backfires. you don’t have a single thing in common. you don’t understand him at all.

(and that suits you just fine.)

a heavy sigh slips from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the surface of the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, your mind muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts and discomforting feelings.

you’re exhausted. completely and utterly spent, even though the day’s barely begun — running on three pitiful hours of sleep, all broken up and jumbled by nightmares that wouldn’t stop spooking you. not a single wink of proper rest.

and it’s painfully obvious. in your face, your posture, the dark crescents beneath your eyes; in the way you can’t help but drag your legs as you walk, your hair disheveled, little sighs and grumbles slipping from your lips for every step you take. all you can do is sluggishly blink the exhaustion away.

you just feel so tired.

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, no real reason to get out of your comfy bed, leave the safety of your cozy little dorm room. but you need breakfast, right now, or else you’ll literally explode — so you still get up on shaky legs and try to mimic the appearance of someone… even moderately well-rested.

it doesn’t work, but that’s besides the point.

so you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen. walking idly — clumsily — enjoying the sight of fleeting, fluttering cherry blossoms through the windows you pass. little pink butterflies.

once you’ve crossed the threshold, you’re relieved to find the open space entirely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, not even a mischievous gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world — but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t want anyone seeing you like this, tired and meek, a little vulnerable.

(least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.)

with laboured, groggy movements, you waltz around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. enjoying the soothing melody of the pan sizzling, singing along to the purring of espresso being made. it’s nice and pleasant to your sensitive ears, as you blink under the rays of sunlight shining in, throwing together a lazy breakfast.

you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables once you’re finished. eager to soak in the peace and quiet, wolf down a sandwich and copious amounts of caffeine.

but, as always — the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes out across the open air is a chipper one, a familiar one. a voice you were desperately hoping not to hear today.

all you can do is continue to sip from your cup of coffee, inwardly wincing, silently going through all five stages of grief simultaneously — before accepting your unfortunate predicament.

(that’s just your luck, isn’t it?)

finally, you raise your weary head, knowing exactly what sight you’ll be met with once you do.

and, lo and behold — there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, a little woflish, wearing those ugly sunglasses and making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, hate and worship at the same time. he plops down next to you like it’s nothing, a little too close for comfort, unconcerned about your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in that sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s a teasing tilt to it, too — the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

under normal circumstances, you’d flip him off. maybe even just glare at him, silently, or raise a brow in challenge.

but you’re far, far too tired to. too anxious. too in need of sleep, in need of a peaceful breakfast that he oh so cruelly ripped from you. all you can muster is the energy to glance his way.

for just a second, your eyes meet. not like you can actually see them, from behind his glasses — but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny, bright and excited. too much to handle, right now.

”… morning.”

as soon as the mutter has left your lips, you take a tentative bite of your sandwich. gaze trailing sluggishly back to your plate.

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff — but no such luck.

you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, study your face, the way those twitchy fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of the cup you’re drinking out of. the way your eyes shift from place to place, unfocused, your eyelids flicking shut every couple seconds. slow.

he’s always been observant — but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired.

gojo is silent, for no more than a mere moment; contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. did something happen?

…

(— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.)

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, a little teasing, showing off the white of his teeth. even though you look out of it, he can’t help himself — despite his own intuition telling him to let you be.

you’re just too fun to tease. suguru and shoko only ever raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog, but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, distract him when his mind is too full of noise.

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness inside his chest.

but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets.

what he expects is for you to glare at him. tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation — either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day.

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. that traitor. shoko is nowhere to be seen, either, probably off smoking in some random alleyway. or hanging out with one of the kyoto losers.

… the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years… but maybe he’d feel just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while after waking up, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. no one to talk to, no one to look at. he was practically dying of boredom. but then he entered the kitchen — and saw his saving grace. his dear little irritable classmate.

he was so relieved. content in the knowledge that he’d get to push your buttons to his heart’s desire, bask in your playful banter and cold, joking little looks until suguru finally comes home.

only this time — you don’t react at all.

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. you just keep eating your breakfast, and drinking your coffee, in total silence.

gojo waits, just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything.

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows, as his glossy, cherry-tasting lips curl down into a little pout.

honestly, he’s kind of annoyed. just what is your problem? what is with you, today?

… it’s no fun if you’re not playing along.

gojo can’t help but grumble, a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

…

whatever. so what if you’re not talking to him? so what if you won’t even spare him a glance? gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest.

not even a little bit.

…

but, really — would it take so much effort for you to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired.

or, what — did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive… are you? or is that it?

what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. he knows you know. so why are you acting so….

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it can reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you, not right now — doesn’t want to feel that discomforting pang in his chest.)

a strange sensation bubbles up in his chest. something frustrated, a little unnerved; at your lack of a reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more.

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

(… it’s fun when you do.)

the silence lingers on, stretches out across the room, festers and grows as you gulp down your breakfast. all while gojo keeps on sulking, still sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, but you pay no mind to it; methodically washing your dishes in silence.

you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either. still sitting there, seemingly deep in thought, grumbling something under his breath.

he watches as you leave, gaze trailing after you, until you’re completely out of sight.

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried so hard not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek, meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

this time, no nightmares came to haunt you. having practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, your body finally decided to give you some peace of mind, some well needed rest. thankfully.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs — enjoying the feeling of your veins waking up, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than enough to give you the little jolt of energy that you need.

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time just rotting in bed — maybe you could take a walk around the schoolyard instead? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and the grounds of the school are just littered with them.

even just the mental image is enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, reaching a hand out to push your door open. excitement stirring in your veins.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

all you hear is a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of something colliding with the door. a low curiosity overtakes you — eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place, just laying unassumingly on the dusty floorboards. as you crouch down to get a better look, you recognize it instantly; a small carton of strawberry milk. a plastic straw plastered on its side, and an evil looking cow mascot staring at you from the front. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines — your personal favorite. you drink it every time you need a tiny pick-me-up, the sweet taste always managing to soothe your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it, silently, in deep contemplation. holding it in your hand as the gears turn inside your head. could someone have dropped it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

… did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

…

your mind stills.

(no way.)

when you think about it — that’s the only explanation that makes sense. shoko and geto aren’t there, and you barely know any of your senior students. yaga-sensei would never give you strawberry milk without a lecture on the dangers of cavities, either.

that just leaves one possible culprit.

but you can’t wrap your head around it. why would he do something like that? he doesn’t like you — you know that much. so it couldn’t possibly be him.

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you like it, contrary to your other classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto wouldn’t go for strawberry milk if he could choose something else. it might as well be the only thing you and gojo have in common — the one thing that binds you two together.

a single carton of strawberry milk.

it’s almost comical.

(if it’s really true — if he really did do it… then you wonder why. maybe he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy.

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you, to believe that it’s true — if only because you kinda like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision.

where could he be? in the kitchen, still? in his dorm?

just as you begin to wonder, a flash of white dances in the corners of your vision. when you glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud, in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about.

you stop.

then you start walking again. with more decision, this time. hurrying to the exit.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging idly as he gazes at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. pink petals dance all around him, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking.

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights, instantly regretting your decision. blinking nervously. you walked here almost entirely on impulse, but now that you’re face to face…

(it’s a little scary.)

… still, it’s far too late to back out now. you can’t do much except join him, so that’s exactly what you do — albeit a little hesitantly.

trying to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. feeling the steady bench beneath you, breathing in the scent of sweet-smelling cherries and soap.

an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something.

it’s a little tough. mustering up the courage to say anything, even just to face him. the decisiveness you felt just a moment ago has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re too nervous to verbalize anything.

but eventually, after a deep breath or two, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?”

it’s almost a whisper. soft and fragile, mumbled beneath your breath as you stare at the cherry trees in front of you. you know his eyes are on you, though. you can feel them, almost feel their weight in the palm of your hand.��like marbles.

weakly, you raise up the carton of strawberry milk. glancing over at him, not quite managing a smile, but trying your best to look somewhat appreciative.

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back up at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes.

then he turns his head away, swiftly, his hair tousled by the movement — a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard him speak through.

when you look a little closer — you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. it makes your lips curl up into a small smile, but you barely feel it.

(like this, he’s actually kind of cute.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow his bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but you can’t help but stare, as sneakily as you can muster.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. fleeting, hard to get a grasp on, so pretty, and so out of reach — despite being so close.

if you wanted to, you could reach over and touch him. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul — and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you, straight away, blooming on your tongue. you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing even further — it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles, a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate.

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes, as they float up into the sky; as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light.

gojo is the first one to break it — in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”… you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher the sudden statement. you can’t get a good read on his expression, with those eyes of his conveniently hidden; he must have regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place.

and you burst into laughter.

gojo blinks at you, caught off guard, his eyelashes flapping like a little dove scrambling to get off the ground — staring at you like you just grew a second head. that makes you laugh harder, a bout of giggles spilling past your lips — you just can’t help it.

”did —” you wheeze, softly, thoroughly amused. trying and failing to bite back the laughter. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you. a little stunned, for a moment. the sight only makes your smile bloom further, eyes crinkled as you meet his gaze. from the angle you’re viewing him through, leaning back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes. they’re awfully pretty — blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, tiny splotches of white.

they look like the blue sky.

you called them menacing, before, but now you aren’t so sure. they seem soft, in the sunlight, especially when seen like this — right after catching him off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious. something to savour.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though.

after a moment of two, he scoffs — turning away yet again. a soft, soft pout on his lips.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding nothing but irritated, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you. now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly — the tips of his ears turning redder at the sound.

(he really isn’t so bad, after all.)

for a while, you don’t say anything else. afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than ever before — and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees. childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you’re starting to think that you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet. a little sweeter than usual, though you choose not to dwell on it.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. not dishonest.

you suspect that gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you aren’t sure. after all, you’re vehemently avoiding his gaze — a little embarrassed by your own sincerity.

he doesn’t know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel unsure of himself. your tone is soft, almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you again. as always. afraid to let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though, more of a vaguely amused huff than anything.

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you only chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.”

gojo should be irked, should grumble and bite back, but you don’t give him the chance to.

”i just… you know,” you taste the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”… and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.”

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little flustered. gnawing on your bottom lip.

”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap. feeling a heat on your nape.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all.

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust off your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation.

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex — before he has to accept that it exists. only this time, he doesn’t succeed. the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. he hears them loud and clear.

and he flushes under the light of the sun.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.)

what actually ends up leaving his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it.

”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered. it doesn’t.

one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

tossing the now-empty carton into a trash can, you try to calm yourself down. feeling oddly excited, as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. but you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him. there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye, hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes, a blur of colours and facial features, sparks and dots.

you wonder if the whole world looks like a painting, to him.

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities. it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement. to see how well it holds up. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it. it’s there, despite everything — in those eyes, in that single carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. all eyes on him, at all times.

you think that sounds just a little exhausting.

even as you return to the safety of your dorm room, you still can’t help but wonder. there’s still so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. almost lonely, in a way. you wonder what he looks like, when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for.

(what is an actor without their audience?)

and, despite everything, after all is said and done — you really, really don’t understand satoru gojo. not at all, not in the slightest. not one bit.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 4 months ago

Text

A DC X DP IDEA # 36

Imagine dis…

No this is not the app-related prompt…

I had just introduced my youngest brother to the original Ben 10 and worked our way to the latest to show him what he was missing, so when I saw that episode…

It immediately went to Danny…

…

Danny was falling, a normal Wednesday for us readers but not normal for our resident ghost boy.

To cut the flashback short, he had just been pushed by Clockwork, to where you ask he didn’t know.

It had been a while since he had permanently entered the Realms to learn to become a king and an Ancient. An Ancient of what you ask, Space, he was a newly formed which made the other Ancients namely Undergrowth, Frostbite, Vortex, and so on…

They were ecstatic as it had been a while since they met a new Ancient in the making, thus leading him to be pushed by CW to a space for him to not only practice his powers as an Ancient but also practice his newly formed title can help him heal his two packages. Namely, Ellie and Dan previously inhabited a clone body made by Vlad but due to its imperfections led to an early melting form. To gain a stronger body that can wind-stand their ever-growing powers, they both needed to grow into a body aka letting Danny incubate them like some sort of MPREG situation that he accidentally saw Dash’s notebook containing his fantasy writing about him and Phantom, it was a very dark day that was, it could use some work but the fact that he improved due to his sister’s tutoring, he doesn’t know what to feel.

Now he found himself in the middle of nothing with both cores in between inside himself. At first, he didn’t know what to do, the word space kept floating in his mind so stars? He asked himself, and so the first stars came forth. He was hesitant of course, usually whenever he had to use new powers usually under duress or even sometimes instinctively so now he had the time to explore his newfound powers he didn’t know where to start.

But slowly he let his instinct control his actions creating, with a flick of his writs galaxies formed, a single blink black holes were formed, a twitch here Pulsar were made, and so on… Each move and each breath made way to a new formation creating the former vast emptiness into a thriving space life with various life forms that have come first in the race of evolution. They first stayed within the confinements of their homes and in time they began reaching for the stars.

Throughout the years Danny also began to change, Danny, in his new form, is an ethereal being with enormous power. His skin is a deep, inky black that resembles the immensity of space, with constellations and galaxies quietly dancing across it. His eyes, unlike his former look, he has now customary pitch-black voids, gleaming a vivid, intense emerald that exudes alien intensity. These penetrating green eyes appear to reflect the force of the universe, continually moving and pulsing as if they hold the secrets of existence themselves.

White accents run throughout his physique like celestial ribbons, following his limbs, torso, and face. These streaks shine like stardust, with a faint glow reminiscent of a faraway nebula. The highlights are flowing, almost as if they are shifting and moving like stars in the night sky, creating a captivating contrast against his body's deep black color. His silhouette, while humanoid, seems almost unreal—tall, imposing, and continuously emitting the faint hum of cosmic power.

Danny Phantom—now known as Alien X dubbed by the Green Lanterns who were lucky enough to witness him at the rare times he ever so twitched—floated serenely in space, his visage as unreadable as it had always been. The once-human ghost-boy had evolved into one of the universe's most powerful entities, capable of altering reality with a single thought.

During the thousands of millennia that he spent his time crafting and perfecting his new powers came with a very heavy headache. In all the time that he had spent filling the space, he had gathered enough energy for the two to create new bodies that could accommodate their growing powers, both Dan and Ellie kept on arguing inside his head about what they wanted to look like, like some sort of demented sims game. Always arguing which would look great on them, how this piece fits them better than the other.. and so on…

…

Did you ever have the instinctive feeling that something new is happening somewhere that you can't explain? Today was that day. The silent space around him was abruptly filled with the wailing of two babies. Danny had given birth, causing shockwaves throughout the universe. Alien X, as the Lanterns dubbed him, was not intended to change or reproduce. Yet here he was, cradling two small, glowing children in his arms, their bodies moving between colors and shapes, a clear indication of their limitless potential.

And the relief of Danny as the two finally settled on a form and agreed on something.

The Lantern Corps was the first to notice. The Guardians of the Universe had long feared Alien X's might, and now, with two offspring whose talents remained unknown, they were on high alert. Every Lantern, from the enraged Red Lanterns to the hope-filled Blue Lanterns, was summoned. The stakes were too high; the children had the potential to become the universe's greatest protectors or its most terrifying adversaries.

Hal Jordan headed the Green Lantern Corps, his emerald light shining through the blackness of space as he interacted with his fellow colored Lanterns as the Green Lanterns' primary representative.

Trouble had already arrived. Darkseid, the dictatorial ruler of Apokolips, and Trigon, the demonic conqueror of universes, have established an unusual alliance. Even beings of enormous strength found the promise of possessing the power to modify reality too appealing. They each coveted one of the offspring, knowing that having even one would give them an advantage over the entire cosmos.

The Lanterns fought bravely, their united lights creating a stunning display of force. Hal solicited every favor and ally he could get. Star Sapphire, Sinestro, and even Larfleeze, the ruthless Orange Lantern, heeded the summons. The battle was intense, with cosmic energy crackling across the starry sky. However, for each wave of adversaries, they vanquished, more appeared, drawn by the irresistible power and potential of the 2 new offspring of Alien X.

As the conflict continued, the Lanterns beheld something they had never seen before. Alien X moved. Danny, who had seemed unconcerned by the mayhem surrounding him, switched his attention to the fight. His normally expressionless face softened as he stared at his children, who were now cooing in his arms, unaware of the battle raging on top of his own hands.

Danny's palm began to glow, and to the surprise of all the Lanterns present, his fingers curled into a protective ball around the infants. The difference was slight yet profound. Alien X was operating independently, free of the never-ending internal argument that had before crippled him. His hands, capable of wiping out entire galaxies, were now a barrier, protecting his children from the evil that loomed over them.

Now, both enemies and heroes are trapped together within Alien X’s hands as they all watch in fascination as two beings are now being formed before their very eyes.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom

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pochipop · 2 years ago

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＃MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — BEING VULNERABLE WITH YOU.

#. synopsis! — how they show their trust .

#. characters! — jumin, zen (hyun), yoosung, saeyoung (707), saeran (ray), jihyun (v) .

#. warnings! — slight angst.

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — come join my discord server? it's newly opened with a fantasy bakery theme! we have emojis from genshin impact, honkai star rail, sanrio, overwatch, pokemon, mystic messenger, and more! a collection of funny stickers, channels to promote yourself, meet new friends, share your writing/art, + lots more! plus, our staff is very chill and friendly! we'd love to see you there! <;33

＃ JUMIN !! ♡

Jumin, who never really thought himself to be the romantic type, but loses himself so easily in his relationship with you that he’d do anything imaginable just to see you smile for him. This sophisticated, pressed-suit wearing, stone-faced man who just crumbles when it comes to you, —who once thought love was some sick ruse made to rope people in and keep them hostage to their feelings, suddenly realizing that this rush is marvelous, and he can’t quite clearly remember a time before his heart seemed to beat for you. This man who swore he’d never love someone enough to put aside everything else on his mind and just live in the moment who sheds that dry cleaned business attire at the end of every workday and lets himself come undone for you. His walls come down and he welcomes you inside, and for once, he’s not scared of what will happen when you see the parts of him that perhaps aren’t as pretty as others. He lets you see the beautiful mess he’s made of himself over the years, and it’s then that he begins to pick up all these tattered pieces, finally preparing to put himself back together again. And recognizing you’ll help him do so is the sweetest comfort he’s ever known.

＃ HYUN (ZEN) !! ♡

Hyun, who stops pretending to be perfect over time and lets you see him in all the stages of healing. This man who often shields himself from the world, hiding behind a mask of narcissistic confidence, who finally lets his imperfections seep through to the surface and breathes another sigh of relief every single time you stay in the aftermath. He lets you in on the insecurities that lap at his ankles much more often than he'd ever had liked to have admitted before. He lets you hold him when he shatters instead of pushing you away, —dulls all his rigid edges to feel your warmth surround him, as if lowering all his defenses for the very first time. The world can be a cruel place to those that have made mistakes, but Hyun feels like he's finally found someone who can look at him for more than just the pretty, well-kempt face he maintains for the public. There's no sense of shame he feels the need to drown in when you let him fall apart in your arms. There's no crushing feeling of disappointment or suffocating feeling of disdain. He's more human than he fears he's ever been when your thumbs wipe the tears from beneath his eyes and you whisper to him that everything will be okay.

＃ YOOSUNG !! ♡

Yoosung, who learns over time how to not let things fester until they’ve built up so much he can’t keep them in any longer. For all he is and might not ever be, he’s come to realize that it’s okay to express his emotions before they reach a boiling point. He comes to you at the onset of upsetedness, —allows himself to feel frustrated without stuffing it down and pretending the problem doesn’t exist until it explodes. He finds that it’s so much easier to be earnest when you never talk down to him or make him feel like he’s any less of a person in your eyes because of it. Sometimes he needs advice, and other times, he just needs someone to talk to. No matter the case, he seeks you out before anyone else, knowing that you care enough about him to value his thoughts and opinions without qualifiers or regulations. He holds grudges sometimes that aren’t good for his own sake, and being shut down when he tries to address them only adds fuel to the fire. Having someone who truly listens and tells him that it’s okay to feel the way he does goes such a long way, —perhaps longer than you’ll ever know.

＃ SAEYOUNG (707) !! ♡

Saeyoung, who lets himself be honest eventually, —who lets himself chip away and then lets you smooth him over. He’s done a lot of things he’s not proud of, and he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. Whether it was or wasn’t doesn’t matter as much as what he knows he has to do going forward, and the last thing he really wants is to be coddled out of pity. He just wants to be heard, no sympathy necessary, no fawning over the way he sheds the skin he used to wear when he felt like happiness was millions of miles away. He just wants to be listened to. To Saeyoung, it’s the ultimate show of trust to admit to all the things he regrets, let them spill out like word vomit and not have to worry about the consequences. He doesn’t need you to understand, and knows you likely can’t given the specifics of his life’s course thus far, but knowing that you’re keen on carrying the burden with him is such an insurmountable feeling of relief. Finally, someone knows every grimy little corner of his soul and they still love him, still hold him, still want him. . . There’s nothing quite like it.

＃ SAERAN (RAY) !! ♡

Saeran, who lets little things slip as time goes on, —stares a little longer when he passes twin popsicles in grocery stores because he knows you won’t ask why. As much as he likes to pretend that he can fix things by pretending they never hurt him in the first place, there are always scars that linger just below the surface, ready to burst at the first sight of mint-colored liquids or at the first sound of deceptively sweet voices offering commands from the shadows. He carries a lot around with him wherever he goes, and just loving him until the sun dies isn’t a cure-all. You can’t turn back time and shield him from all the things in his life that have left him feeling like a shattered stain glass window. All the love in the world can’t fix the past. But there’s nothing that means more to him than knowing he can lean on you, —even if he doesn’t always do it. There’s such a sweet comfort in knowing he can turn to you when he feels like he’s drowning. And if sometimes that manifests only in letting himself shed a few tears while he eats an ice cream cone outside next to you in the sunshine, then so be it.

＃ JIHYUN (V) !! ♡

Jihyun, who talks about it all a little at a time, —about the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful; because it wasn’t always bad. There were times before you came in which he’d been so in love that he’d have done anything to stay exactly where he was, to freeze those moments up and keep them in a capsule that could never be shaken. And it’s important for Jihyun to tell you about those things every now and again, to let you in and reminisce on the way he’d once been so sure of it all, so ready to settle down and stay exactly where he was. But it’s equally as important for him to bare the remnants of the betrayal for you to kiss, and hold, and make peace with. He likes to think you understand him better in the wake of it, —that you’ve seen him in a new light every time he sits with you and tells you of the loss, the desire, the yearning, and all the ways he wishes things could have been different for everyone. In the end, he’s here, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

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dekariosclan · 5 days ago

Note

How do you think Gale would react to a romanced Tav who has an overbite and a gap between their teeth? She avoids laughing or smiling too much to try and hide her teeth.

This is something I have and I’m incredibly insecure about it. :(

Anonnnn you’re out here giving me an easy ask. Tossing me a softball 💜

Gale would react by going out of his way to make Tav smile and laugh as often as possible, while complimenting them on their incomparable beauty every single time.

Gale would not care about the arrangement or shape of Tav’s teeth. He would not care about whether or not their teeth are aesthetically pleasing, or whether they fit the current beauty standards. Tav’s teeth and overbite are simply a part of who they are—just like their natural hair color and eye color.

But their smile? Their laugh? Gale cares about those very very much. He loves nothing more than seeing his beloved Tav break into a beautiful, warm, affectionate smile—a mirror of their wonderful heart—and their face lighting up with laughter.

Anon, would you like to see what a truly ugly smile looks like? From someone with absolutely spot-on perfect teeth and no overbite?

That’s the smile Mystra gives Gale in the ending where he goes off with her to Elysium. That’s her smile at reuniting with her ex-lover—at rekindling their romance.

Anon, look at that dead-eyed, shark-looking, grinch-ass smile. She looks bored. No warmth or affection, no kindness, no heart. Just a flat parody of what real affection is from a creature who doesn’t understand it.

I can tell you with 100% certainty that Gale would prefer to see Tav’s ‘imperfect’ smile—one that is loving, kind, warm, unique, and REAL—rather than Mystra’s ‘perfect’ one, which is cold, dead, empty, false, flat, and fake.

#Anon I bet you have a lovely smile & I hope you will feel more confident about it 💜#thanks for the ask!#gale of waterdeep #bg3 #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #galemancer #answered ask

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rachalixie · 2 years ago

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Can I request comforting Lee know during the stressful comeback when he’s all exhausted and stressed and y/n does her best to be there for him even though he’s stubborn

a/n: this. this request warmed my heart. i needed time to sort out my thoughts bc the urge to care for this boy is so??? strong?????

you usually don’t bother minho when he’s working; he tends to gets so fixated on what he’s doing that his attention rarely strays from it. even if you try, you’re met with absent-minded answers that he apologies for after, but his passion is one of the things that you fell in love with so you can’t complain much.

but with their new comeback he’s always worrying, working nonstop to make sure his members have the choreography just right. it’s different than before - he doesn’t rest until it’s perfect, not a single foot or finger out of place.

he’s sitting and watching the practice videos when you get home, his gaze bleary like he’s been staring at the screen for hours upon hours. he doesn’t look up when you move towards him, pressing your body to his side and a kiss to his cheek.

“hi, mine,” he mumbles, his hand reaching up to distractedly pet your cheek as he continues to click through the video, looking for imperfections even where there weren’t any.

“how long have you been sitting here?” you ask, rubbing what’s sure to be a sore shoulder with your hand. the muscle feels tight under your fingers, a sign that he’s been here longer than he’s willing to admit.

“not long,” sure enough, he’s understating. he sags when you click your tongue.

“you need to take a break baby,” you press, voice even and without judgment. you know that when he gets like this, the harder you push the more he pushes back.

“can’t,” he mutters, fingers flying again. “have to make sure this is perfect.”

“you trust your members right?” you ask, moving two fingers under his jaw, turning his head towards you and making sure he looks you in the eyes. they’re red-rimmed and drowsy, dark bags already beginning to form under them. he finally releases the mouse and keyboard from his grip.

“of course,” he says, voice strong with conviction. you knew this was the way to get through to him, it’s a practiced art that you’ve been trying to perfect for a while.

“then trust that they will get it right. they have the best teacher, you’re more than anyone could ever ask for. they will meet you halfway.” you’re almost pleading now, desperate for him to see that he deserves to rest.

“they will,” he nods, eyes clearing up bit by bit. “but…”

“sweetheart,” the name slips out of your mouth naturally as you wrap your arms around his neck. “you work so hard already. you’re allowed to take a break.”

he leans into your embrace and lets out a deep sigh. his breath warms your shoulder as he finally nods, making you release your own breath of relief.

“okay,” he says, sagging further into you and letting you run a hand through his mussed hair.

“c'mon. let’s take a bath. then i’ll feed you and we lay down together,” you help him up, steadying him with a giggle when his knees buckle under him from disuse.

he sits on the closed lid of the toilet as you ready the bath, head resting on his hand and eyes incredibly fond. his gaze is just as unwavering as it was before, but this time his attention is on you. you can’t help but feel a bit warm at the affection he’s showing you; no matter how much you know he loves you more than he loves his work (or, at the very least just as much), it’s a nice reminder to have. even when his eyes are tired, they’re bright as they watch you.

you sit between his legs in the bath, the warm water sending clouds of steam into the air, shrouding you both in a vanilla sweet blanket. he dozes off behind you, head resting on your shoulder and soft puffs of breath hitting your ear. the steady rise and fall of his chest lulls you into a light sleep too.

you don’t even regret it when you both wake up later, fingers and toes pruned so badly that you order in instead of cooking for him. you eat in bed, a rare thing for him. he prefers not allowing food into his sheets, not wanting to stain the crisp white bedding accidentally, but one doe-eyed look from you makes him cave fast.

you fall asleep curled up into each other, takeout containers forgotten at the foot of the bed, you following him into his dreams.

—

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #stray kids drabbles #skz soft hours #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts

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desire4ella · 9 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐀 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧 ?

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 @trc-punzel ✰part3 of the Gif euphoria series

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Roomate!Jimmy x Reader x Twin!Jey

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You always had a thing for twins…

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,006

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Daddy k*nk , Gagging , Cream Pie , Spitting

Looking for cheap apartments were really hard to find especially when you just recently moved into Las Vegas. For the past couple of weeks you have been staying in a motel browsing the internet in search of an affordable apartment . It was now night time, and even though you were tired and exhausted you still decided to keep doing your research. Low and behold you found yourself a perfect apartment with everything you needed in it,the only slight problem was that you’d be sharing it with a complete stranger….. you would deffo have to pad lock your room or sumn cause you can’t trust people nowadays. Being sneaky and shi you opted to find out who you were sharing your apartment with, so you searched up this app called “ roommate finder”.

Typing up the apartment complex info that you’ll be moving in too, it was able to spot the resident you would be staying with. “ So his name is Jimmy huh ?” you smirked and kept on scrolling through the pictures he added unto the website . “ He’s so fineeee Lord help me” you took a deep breath as you could feel your cooter mama starting to get a bit wet, laughing at your own stupidity you closed your laptop and sat it aside on your bed side table and proceeded to go to bed since tomorrow would be an eventful day seeing as though ur moving in with the roomate.

THE NEXT DAY

“ Thank you so much ” you smiled to the man who helped carry your luggage up to your apartment door, “ No problem Miss ” the man called “Jerry” presuming from the name tag clipped onto his milky, white shirt, he smiled and then turned around to head back to his truck. Taking a deep breath you finally examine the exterior of the building infront of you.

( pick which one you like )

Smiling you pick up the keys from your back pocket and push it into the key hole , rotating it to the right , the door slightly opens signifying that you can go in. Upon entering, you see…..

୨୧ JIMMYS POV ୨୧

“ Ay! Yo Uce! pass me the salt real quick” I say and continue to stir the pot of spicy, authentic Jamaican soup I made. Just as Jey was about to pass me the salt , I hear the front door squeak open. Halting my movements I quickly turn around attempting to catch whoever was brave enough to enter this house , knowing damn well I got my strap on me . ( boy please 🙄) I make eye contact with this very pretty woman “ Damn she sexy asf” I thought in my head ;forgetting that a complete stranger was in my house, biting my lip I futher study her curvaceous figure . I could deffo tell she keeps up with her maintenance because her skin was flawless and glistened like gold in the sunlight , not a single imperfection to be found and her long pink bow decorated nail set , sat perfectly on her delicate fingers.

“ And who tf is you ?” my brother rudely interupts. Visbly taken back from his sudden outburst she meekly responds “ I’m Jimmy’s new roommate…” Poor thing , she must have to be confused and have the wrong Jimmy because from what I know of, the app that I have on my phone ( Roomate Finder ) hasn’t notified me of any new incomers.

୨୧ JEY’S POV ୨୧

I had to laugh because ain’t now way this bitch gon come up in this house and claim to be my brothers new roomate when he doesn’t even have one , she must be drunk or sumn, though now that I’m looking at her properly she does look kindaaa…..Sexy . “ Bitch, get tf out!, you ain’t nobody’s roommate “ I said harshly as I place down the salt on the kitchen counter and hastily make my way towards her shy form. Now you can say that I’m a bit of an asshole for shouting at her ( ya think? 🙄) but what would you do if a random stranger randomly came inside your family’s house ? the same thing right ? mhmm thought so .

୨୧ JIMMY’S POV ୨୧

quickly grabbing my brothers arm , I drag him back “ Chill out bruh , clearly this is a misunderstanding ” I said and sat my brother down on one of the high top chairs around the counter . Turning my attention back towards her I gesture her to come inside. “ Jimmy are you dumb ? she could be a murderer for all we know !” Jey whispered aggressively making sure to keep a close eye on her every movements . “ Relax, I got this” I say and leaned back onto the fridge . “ Sooo you said you were my roommate. Is that correct?” I questioned with a straight face.

୨୧ YOUR POV ୨୧

I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.Why is this man acting slow ? and who tf is that other midget shouting at ? anyways lemme keep my cool. “ Yes I just recently moved into Las Vegas about four weeks ago, I found a perfect apartment , which is this one and saw that I would be staying with a roomate , so obviously I had to check that I’m not bout to be living with some mad person, No offence” I paused and made eye contact with the man supposedly named Jimmy . He chuckled a bit “Nah it’s fine, I understand ” Smiling at his response I continued my story. “ Being noisy and shi I browsed the internet until I came across this website called ‘Roomate Finder’ and typed up the name of the apartment I would be staying in, I saw most of your pictures pop up and information about you, You seemed kinda cool and not weird so i decided to take the risk and live here.” There expressions were nothing short of confusion, I wanted to laugh so bad.

“ Hollup, lemme see sumn real quick ”…..

PT2. WITH THE SMUT SCENE COMING NEXT

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jimmy uso x reader #the usos #wwe #roman reigns #my original fiction #roman reigns x reader #wwe superstars #jey uso smut #jimmy uso x you #main event jey uso #my original content #my followers

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groovyfrog420 · 10 months ago

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SV Redeemed AU

INTRODUCTION / DISCLAIMER

First things first, these designs for Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are FAR into the future. Quite literally end game phase of the story, the “they grow old together and live happily ever after”. There's a long way to get there, and while I will write some of my thoughts about their journey, I'm a shitty writer. There's no single thought-out plot, it's just bits and pieces of my thoughts in one place.

I don't think I'd be making a tag or naming this AU anything specific. I'm still calling it an AU because there is a bit of canon divergence, but I don’t have a start-to-finish story. (EDIT: wellp that lasted long. new name is #False-Truth AU because I like the oxymoron. I still don't think I'll do much - maybe a few short comics, which you'll be able to find under that tag on my profile)

Keep in mind that these are just my own interpretations, if you imagine these cookies acting differently, that's ok! This is just my own made-up alternate version

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT - don't say I didn't warn ya

I’ve tried to divide it into sections, so if you are looking for just smth specific / only care about one of the characters, you can skip right to it!

Prepare for the ramblings.

PURE VANILLA'S DESIGN

more relaxed now - doesn’t need to keep up perfect appearances and the image of a hero, so he can lay back a bit more. (messier, less perfectly styled hair - more like his younger years. comfier clothes.)

focusing on herbology - with less power now (why explained below) and trying to not overwork himself, he’s taken to different healing methods, as well as taking on gardening as a hobby

slightly more open eyes - (heavily elaborated on bellow)

different staff - due to being able to use his own eyes more now, as well as staying more on the low, he’d decided to retire the famous staff. Since it’s a flower, it was planted somewhere and allowed to blossom and grow freely - fitting symbolism for a new beginning, I think. The lantern light glowing blue makes it easier on his eyes.

PV STORY BITS

In this AU Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla retire together. I think PV would still like to teach, but would focus more on the medical and practical side of things, like herbs and healing practices. (He’ll leave telling tales about the past to Shadow Milk, though he might throw in his own comments from time to time…) He mostly offers advice and shares every-day methods for protection of different kinds with those who ask, but may take on an apprentice or few to fully pass down his healing knowledge to. He uses magic sparingly now.

This way with not focusing on a variety of subjects and many, many students, he’s able to rest more and doesn’t have to split himself between multiple worries. He can focus properly and give his students more individual attention, to make sure his knowledge will be retained for the future.

Eyes

(don't jump me pls read the footnote)

I've decided to take the closed/covered eyes motif PV has in a bit more symbolic way *. I want to interpret it as PV being blind (=ignorant) to the world around him, choosing to see the world and his own actions in an idealized light, and to look away from anything that doesn't fit that idea. Light sensitivity would be very ironic yet fitting - since his own powers are very light-based, by using them to help others he’d be blindinding/hurting himself in the process...

Over time, he realizes how futile it is. Even if he turns his eyes away from the wrongdoing in the world, from his own mistakes and imperfections, they will still continue to happen. He begins to understand that he has to accept that neither he nor the world is perfect, to stop wallowing over the past and start fixing the present. To keep moving forward and keep working on himself, not hide his imperfections under literal and figurative wraps.

With the help of Shadow Milk, he begins to open his eyes more and more and accept the real truth, no matter how imperfect it is.

*I’m not sure how confirmed it was in canon that he’s blind (from what I’ve seen it was mostly implied, but still). I'm not erasing that - for the sake of this AU, I'd like to say that he has partial issues with sight (including the mentioned light sensitivity), but now he learns to accommodate them rather than ignore them and hurt himself more for the sake of others. No, he doesn't magically gain full sight now, but he's more comfortable, healthier, and more honest about the world around him with all of its imperfections.

Burnout

I believe SM and PV complete each other so perfectly because they can help each other grow in areas where the other is lacking/struggling. With PV, I’d like to focus on burnout, false ideas, and how the pressure he’s constantly under has affected him. He was very much just a normal guy before receiving his Soul Jam. Years beyond a normal cookie’s lifespan of hard work and trying to be the perfect leader, to always ensure the happiness of all his people (whether that be as king or otherwise) are bound to take a toll on anyone. Obviously he'd never admit that, always putting everyone else before his own needs, and he’d likely run himself into the grave. That's where I think Shadow Milk would be helpful - he’d make him realize how unsustainable what he’s doing really is. He wasn’t built for handling immense power for all of eternity, he’s just a single cookie and whether he likes it or not, he can’t save everyone or make every single one of his people happy... Being selfish isn’t entirely wrong, sometimes might even be necessary.

Onto the idea of false truth - Pure Vanilla has a very idealized view of a lot of things and people. He’s trying to see everyone in the best light, but he also holds a high standard for himself - that he must be the ideal, shining and caring hero and a beacon of perfection . Shadow Milk is likely to pick that image apart - probably not in the kindest way, saying that in trying to be perfectly selfless, PV is putting himself on the pedestal above everyone else while still being just a single cookie with limited capabilities. He’d likely call this image egoistical, and while PV would argue that he’s doing it for the good of others (he is helping after all, right?), Shadow Milk wouldn’t be entirely wrong - this way of thinking, that he’s the one who must take care of everyone else, is harmful for both him and the ones he’s trying to protect.

Shadow Milk would show him that truth is relative, that “pure truth” doesn’t exist, for anyone could interpret it differently. That PV isn’t (and doesn't have to be) the perfect blameless hero. That his people aren’t as good or pure as he’d like to give them credit for, but neither are they helpless.

Shadow Milk metaphorically and literally helps him open his eyes - he slowly learns to lay back, to accept the reality and “truth”, whatever it may be, and is no longer blinding and burning himself out by trying to help everyone at once. With a new mindset and outlook of the world, he can allow himself to retire, and leave a calmer, out-of-the-spotlight life.

Retirement

Ok, controversial idea, but I think the ancients will have to one day retire and pass down their SoulJams. Yes, I played Cookie Odyssey, I know how important it is to them, but hear me out. As I said above (which is shown in the game btw, but correct me if I'm wrong), they were just normal cookies before taking on the roles of the Ancient Heros. Cookies with high achievements, yes, but still. They aren’t The Beasts, baked specifically for the purpose of handling the Soul Jams, and even then, The Beasts weren’t perfect. I’m not saying they’re bound to get corrupted like their predecessors did, but I am saying that this role is bound to take a toll on them. Not even just from the perspective of power, even just handling so many responsibilities with running their kingdoms is going to be extremely draining mentally. (Physically likely too, even if they’re said to stay “always young” thanks to the Soul Jams - many stories teach that you can’t mess with nature and that nothing lasts forever...)

I don’t know who they’d pass the Soul Jams along too - whether that’d be Gingerbrave and his friends, or a new batch of heroes, that is to be decided. The point is, they have served their purpose, they have (from the perspective of this AU) defeated Dark Enchantress, and deserve to now leave the rest of their lives in peace.

SHADOW MILK'S DESIGN

“mellowed out” a bit - continues to be eccentric and dramatic, but less manic

still unsettling - most level-headed cookies upon meeting him immediately get a feeling that there's something.. off about him, even if they can't put their finger on it. (I purposefully left some of his corrupted design elements or callbacks to them, like the marking over his eye, for that reason)

vibrant, colorful, very extra in both behavior and looks, everything he does he does with drama and flourish

quiets down when out of the eyes of the public, or alone with Pure Vanilla

peacock elements - fitting for someone with such a vibrant personality. also the eye connection is perfect - if you look closely at the feather he's wearing, you might even notice a familiar symbol in its “eye”

a playful bard - (elaborated heavily bellow) - an identity allows him to enjoy his favorite activities, while also being a slight callback to his academic past

SM STORY BITS

The bard

While spending more time with Pure Vanilla, PV encouraged him to pursue his creative interests. Partly to have smth to get SM’s mind off of causing chaos, and partly because they let him indulge and express himself without causing any serious damage. Now he’s joined PV in retirement, though still not fully stepping down from the stage.

Being a bard allows Shadow Milk to indulge in everything he likes most: being the center of attention, dramatics, theatrics, mischief, a tasteful dose of lies and half-truths, but also, in a way, calling back to his past self: for while a lot of his stories are made-up tales, he can also share the history of Earthbread that he’s witnessed. Yes, he may do so through over-dramatic performances or behind caricatural characters, but every tale holds a grain of truth, does it not? Whether his audience chooses to believe him or not is their choice to make.

Referencing the fact that a big part of human history survived through word of mouth, and how storytellers play an important role in preserving it, I think it’s only fitting to make him a bard.

About visual choices

I made his redeemed design less chaotic and asymmetrical, but still vibrant and based mostly on his current color palette, rather than the one from Blueberry Academy. That's because while he may be rediscovering his interests from the past, he’s not the person he was before corruption and never will be again. Instead, he too is learning to rediscover the world in a new light, with a new identity.

Visually I’ve tried to keep some elements from his current design, if slightly toned down: a wide collar, puffy sleeves, a flowy cape. Elements of his corruption are also still there: different colored sclera (= his one eye being black), the sharp teeth. He may have settled down and calmed down slightly, but he remains as playful as ever :))

He still causes local chaos once in a while or resorts to pranking unsuspecting cookies nearby (the slight charring at the bottom of PV’s robe is a result of one of such pranks getting out of hand), and PV has accepted that he'll never be a calm, put-together cookie he once might have been. However, SM's learned to not be a danger to others for the sake of the one he cares about the most, and that's enough for the both of them.

And that's all for now! If you've managed to get this far, thank you SO much for your patience, I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts and brainworms <3

#funny how this turned into an essay on accident #shadowvanilla #pureshadow #vanilla milkshake #shadow milk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie run kingdom #shadow milk crk #pure vanilla #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk #shadow milk au #cookie run au #blorbo-time #False-Truth AU

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arvandus · 11 months ago

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Thinking about how adorably awkward Diavolo is, but also how sad he is too. This guy grew up super isolated with a father that neglected him, a “friend” that was obligated to play with him and cater to his every whim, and essentially raised by an ancient time demon that he “bullied” into serving him.

This poor guy has never ever had a single person be around him/with him by choice. Imagine what that does to him, to his self-esteem. The only one who has been with him by choice is Barbatos, but every now and then, Diavolo will doubt even that much, considering how he had “forced” him into serving him when he was younger (logically he knows Barbatos could have refused him; he was powerful enough to… but even then, the doubt lingers).

On top of that, he’s trying to join the three realms in a peaceful way, which I would guess not everyone in the Devildom is okay with.

Even when the angels fell, and Lucifer requested his help, Diavolo did it on the condition that Lucifer (and by proxy his brothers) serve him and the Devildom. Because even though they may have been somewhat friends (remember Diavolo planted an apple tree for Lucifer when he was still an angel), Diavolo had to act as a prince first, setting his own personal desires aside. His help would come at a price.

Everything he does is so motivated by this deep-rooted loneliness, forced by his position and power, and the choices he has to make because of it, keeping him isolated from others.

This persistent isolation and always being served by others has left a huge deficit in his people/relationship skills. The wild shit he says or does when interacting with those he cares about isn’t even intended to cross boundaries or rile them up half the time. He genuinely means it in the most innocent way. He hasn’t exactly learned what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate (after all, the only friend he had was Mephisto, who worships the ground he walks on and never tells him no to anything). So he’s learning that now, albeit a bit late. He really just gets an idea that sounds nice in his head, inspired by his love and respect for that person, and says it out loud in an effort to deepen his relationship (ie, friendship) with them. And fortunately for him, Lucifer is able to be patient enough with him and maintain those boundaries as he figures out all of the nuances of socially and culturally acceptable communication and relationship building.

That’s not to say that there aren’t times where Diavolo doesn’t say or do things on purpose with the intent of giving others a hard time. He’ll definitely say things to get under Lucifer’s skin; he likes to fluster him, and for Diavolo, even bad attention is better than no attention. But I think there’s also another purpose to it, albeit subconsciously, in that it allows him to experience healthy boundaries which he never had when he was younger. Lucifer has no problem saying no to him, even at times when Barbatos doesn’t (Barbatos is strict, but he’ll also dote on Diavolo at times too, in a motherly way). It allows Diavolo to feel equal with Lucifer, more friends/comrades than ruler/oath-bound servant.

It’s also the same reason (partially) why he tries to escape his work half the time, or will come up with wild ideas that Barbatos has to say no to. He likes pushing (just a little) against the boundaries placed by others in order to meet that resistance. In a weird way it’s how he knows that they genuinely care about him rather than simply serve him out of obligation. They tell him no when he needs to hear it, but they’re also forgiving.

He’s always known he’s not perfect, yet he was treated like he was for so long. It created a dissonance between who he was told he was versus how he was experiencing himself. Now, he’s allowed to experience, understand, and accept his own imperfections through those closest to him and how they respond to him when they maintain their boundaries. It validates his own self perception of being imperfect while also allowing room for growth and understanding that the imperfections are acceptable/allowed to be there.

I think the last lingering doubt of others’ genuine love for him is the fact that they literally cannot leave him, at least not without consequences. Sure, they can disagree, even fight him. But in the end, he’s the prince, and they’re bound to him by duty and oaths. If they weren’t bound, would they still stay and continue to be there for him? Or are they merely tolerating him? It’s an insecurity that still plagues him.

Anyway… not sure where I was going with this. Brain is just stuck ruminating on it. He’s such an interesting character, I love him so much.

#arvandus rambles #obey me #obey me Nightbringer #Diavolo #obey me Diavolo #Diavolo obey me #om diavolo #diavolo om

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kats-fic-recs · 4 months ago

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Kat's Ultimate MUST READ All time Favorite Ushiten Fic Rec Extravaganza

I don't know what it is about these two that has me in a chokehold, but I'm so in love with their relationship. I love a good weirdo x weirdo dynamic, and Ushiten checks off all the boxes for me. I feel as though I've read every single Ushiten fic on Ao3, and so I figured I'd put all of my favorites together in one list for easy access. I've read all the fics below multiple times, and yet they continuously haunt me because of how well written they are.

Canon High School Fics:

1. An Unremarkable Proposal

It's a completely unremarkable Thursday afternoon, and Tendou would have been happy passing the day making out with his boyfriend and never remembering a single thing about it. You know, if Ushijima hadn't suddenly declared that he wanted to marry him.

2. For Luck

the squeeze of a shoulder before a match becomes the brush of hands becomes the soft whisper of lips on a cheek becomes the wet warmth of lips sliding against lips.

“For luck.”

Or, the lie that the kisses are for luck can only last so long.

3. Tending to a Wounded Heart

"Now, Iwaizumi-san, while I am flattered by your interest and must admit you’re very attractive, I must inform you my heart belongs to another, and I’m not sure your dear captain Oikaw-“ Satori wasn’t even able to finish his jest, as a fuming Iwaizumi interrupted him. A blush blooming from his hairline down to his neck.

“I’M NOT HITTING ON YOU, DUMBASS!”

...

After being discovered in the midst of breakdown in the bathroom of Seijoh, Tendou Satori strikes up an unusual friendship with Iwaizumi who seems keen on helping Tendou navigate his own unrequited feelings, despite ignoring his own.

All the while Tendou's teammates are becoming more and more concerned with their blocker's new behavior and mysterious texting buddy.

4. Unforgivable Acts

All Ushijima has to do is apologize for punching a rival school kid in the face, and everything will clear up. Unfortunately, that would require him to admit that defending Tendou was wrong, and he will not do that.

5. Monster

First year Tendou has braces and a lisp. Ushijima is very gay.

6. rainwater

If rain brings Tendou joy, then Ushijima’s happy for him. It’s not something he’ll ever come to personally understand, and he’s certain that he’ll never share the same enthusiasm for water falling from the sky. Rainwater serves a few good purposes, namely helping plants grow and offering moisture to dry land. But Ushijima doesn’t need to be watered. Maybe Tendou does, though that wouldn’t necessarily make sense to Ushijima.

Unsurprising, because not much about Tendou makes sense to Ushijima in the first place. He supposes it doesn’t have to; he appreciates his friendship regardless, but he does wonder sometimes what it must be like to occupy the same headspace as him.

7. Imperfect Facial Symmetry

Tendou Satori has learned to live with the fact that he doesn't have what anyone would consider an attractive face. This wouldn't normally bother him, except now detail-oriented, perfect Ushijima is analyzing his face and producing every overly apparent, crooked flaw in precise graphite strokes.

Ushijima has learned to live with the fact that he doesn't have the ability to read faces, attractive or not. But there's something about Tendou's that he can't put his finger on. He simply cannot get the drawing right.

8. You're really pushing it (but you're going much too slowly)

"Ow, my fingers." Tendou's face contorts into a mock expression of anguish, but there's too much amusement in his brows for Wakatoshi to be fooled. He doesn't let go and instead half-drags the blocker off to the side. But Tendou is not so easily thwarted.

"Wakatoshi-kun! Ow! That hurts!" he squawks evilly, playing dirty by getting Coach Washijou's attention.

"Ushijima! What are you doin' over there?"

Wakatoshi lets go like Tendou's hands are on fire. "Nothing. Sorry."

Post - Canon:

1. bonjour, notre paradis

“You’re telling me,” Tendou says, once Wakatoshi finally gets him on a video call, “that you got drunk as hell, asked Hinata Shouyou—of all people!—if you should go to Paris immediately after announcing that you used to hate him, somehow managed to correctly book a flight despite your clearly impaired decision-making, and then shut your damn phone off after texting me?”

Wakatoshi nods. “That about sums it up.”

Japan loses to Argentina in the Olympics. Ushijima Wakatoshi loses—and finds—his way forward.

2. Just Wanna Get A Little Bit Closer

When Ushijima agreed to the photoshoot for a sportswear brand he favors, he didn't think he'd be modeling with his ex. They haven't seen each other in years, not since he broke up with Tendou in an airport and sent the other man back to France, both nursing broken hearts.

(He also didn't think he'd end the day fucking his ex in a bathroom, but no one ever called Ushijima a prophet.)

3. The Elusive Blush of Ushijima Wakatoshi

The first time that Tendou made Ushijima blush was before they started dating.

The second time that Tendou made Ushijima blush was two years after his unplanned confession.

The third time that Tendou made Ushijima blush was on accident, half a decade after his previous success.

.........................................................................

In the entire time that he had known him, Tendou Satori had only managed to make one Ushijima Wakatoshi blush a total of 5 times.

A story of the 5 times that Tendou made Ushijima blush + 1 time that he didn't need to.

4. All For the Love of An Energetic Redhead

Hinata is in Brazil. Tendou is in France.

Kageyama and Ushijima get drunk and make bad decisions about it.

5. polaroids & proposals

Wakatoshi pauses with the huge gift in his lap, hand hovering above its crudely tied bow.

“Wanna guess what it is first?” Satori rocks in place, cross-legged on the floor.

“Hmm,” Wakatoshi looks down at Satori from his spot on the chair, then back at the gift. His eyes are narrow in deep thought, “is it the set of luggage we saw at the store last week? I believe I mentioned needing a new set.”

“Oooh, maybe~” Satori bites his lip, anticipation giving him a slight stomach ache, “guess you’ll find out!”

It’s definitely not a set of luggage. Not even close.

6. the language of belonging

After the camera crew and interviewer bids them goodbye, Satori takes them back to his apartment.

“Why do you feel bad?” Wakatoshi’s hand settles against Satori’s thigh. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. “You have many friends, Satori. To you, our friendship is likely not as important. To me, you were the first person who wanted to know me, save for, perhaps, Sakusa. You made me feel …” He seems to struggle with his words for a moment, before he dips his head a little. Satori marvels at the clear sign of embarrassment. “You made me feel less weird. I never had many friends, and I still don’t. You were my first best friend.”

Suffice to say, Satori is speechless.

Outsider Pov:

1. The Mystery of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s Chocolate-Making, Paris-Living Boyfriend

Ushijima having a boyfriend who lives in Paris and makes chocolates isn’t impossible.

But it is a little unbelievable.

Or, five times someone asked about Ushijima’s love life, and one time no one needed to.

2. The years shall run like rabbits

Ushijima’s mother is not sure what to make of the man her son brings home: he’s too loud, too particular, too fond of her son in a way she thinks is rather inappropriate.

Or, Ushijima Akemi watches her son’s relationship with Tendou change over the years and finds herself changing with it.

Alternate Universes:

1. a lesson in vulcan mineralogy

Tendou is sitting in the captain’s chair.

2. died in my dreams

If anyone asked Ushijima how it came to this, he wouldn’t be able to formulate a proper answer

Or, Ushijima likes his quiet, his order, and his solitude.

That is, until a loud, talkative and a little chaotic cyber tech convinces him that that's just plain boring.

3. Executive Excursion

Tendou is fun, quirky, and interesting.Ushijima is none of the above.

It's no surprise that Ushijima is drawn to Tendou's magnetic personality. What's surprising is that Tendou seems to like Ushijima, too.

With a little support from his coworkers, Ushijima decides to take a chance and ask Tendou on a date. The results are better than expected.

4. Tendou's Bakery for Wayward Soulmates

According to common knowledge—and quite a few highly reputable textbooks—there exist in the universe three kinds of soulbonds: those that manifest spontaneously, those that people are born with, and those that stay hidden until their potential is revealed.

Some soulmates connect easily and instantaneously. But other soulbonds prove to be more stubborn. These bonds require a bit more effort…a certain amount of coaxing before they finally appear.

For those unruly, obstinate souls, there is Tendou’s Bakery for Wayward Soulmates.

5. say what you mean (I wanna be with you)

Good morning, Wakatoshi-kun! Isn’t it such a beautiful autumn day today?

They chatted every day before class; Tendou vivid and excitable, Ushijima muted, but still enjoying himself. Except today, when Tendou had sprinted into class just moments before the lecture began, his cheeks flushed with exertion. He flashed Ushijima a bright smile as he slid into his seat, opened his mouth to say something, and was promptly cut off by the start of the lecture.

Not to be deterred, Tendou had written a note instead.

Ushijima feels silly. It takes him a while to decide on a response that doesn’t make him feel even sillier.

Yes, it is a nice day.

Or: 5 times Ushijima couldn’t make sense of the notes Tendou wrote to him in class + 1 time when it finally clicked.

6. The Tendou Incidents

“Where...have you come from?” Ushijima manages.

“Paris.”

It’s not the answer he expects. Though, somehow Paris seems to fit his expectations of the man standing in front of him. “Mm. That is very — ”

“ — Exciting? Glamorous?” the redhead prompts, obviously proud of his globetrotting accomplishment.

“ — Far.”

The man falters for the first time, like he finds Ushijima’s answer odd — despite being even odder himself — and laughs, infectious and hearty, like Ushijima has made some sort of joke.

One fateful day, a colorful, painfully extroverted young man named Tendou Satori moves into the unit above Ushijima's apartment. He's odd, presumptuous, and — most egregious of all — he's shockingly noisy. And the quiet, scheduled routine Ushijima Wakatoshi lives is forever altered.

7. Consecutive Failures

The moment Tendou presents as an omega he knows Ushijima is the one for him, he just has a few issues telling Ushijima that.

The five times Tendou fails to confess and the one time Ushijima does.

8. everything was red

Ushijima brings it up to his mother exactly once, the strange boy who appears in his room at night.

She tells him that it sounds like he has an imaginary friend, and that at nine years old isn’t he a little bit old for this kind of thing?

He doesn’t bring it up again, though later that night he tells Tendou and Tendou’s eyes go bright, his smile sharp and pointed like a shark.

“Do you think I’m imaginary, Wakatoshi-kun?”

9. Don't bother checking my work (i've never cared for math anyway)

It isn’t until Shirabu’s back at LOCCENT that it really sinks in. Forty-eight wins? An impressive number, true, and a definite sign of Ushijima’s strength, especially compared to Tendou. But in anyone else, an unbalanced score like that would indicate a depressingly low chance of drift compatibility.

Drifting with Ushijima was simple statistically, but potentially deadly realistically. And drifting with Tendou? A veritable nightmare. If not for Washijou’s insistence, Shirabu would have dropped him long ago.

Still, something is calling to him. Something beyond numbers and data projections.

Because Ushijima may have knocked Tendou down forty-eight times. But that means there were forty-nine times he got back up.

10. Day Shift (Night Shift)

Every day, Ushijima Wakatoshi sits down at his nondescript, generic grey cubicle, ready to do sports education work for the JVA.

Every day, there is a letter waiting for him from someone who works on the night shift.

Ushijima doesn’t know who it is. But he always writes back.

11. ENDINGS/BEGINNINGS

New beginnings come only at the cost of other endings. The two cannot survive together. It is not a symbiotic relationship; it is a mutually destructive one.

On the cusp of achieving all of his dreams, professional volleyball player and one time Olympic medalist Ushijima Wakatoshi goes down. One wrong landing, one torn ACL.

In the blink of an eye, his future collapses. His volleyball career ends.

His coach tells him: it’s all over.

His father tells him: Nothing is meant to last forever. Once you learn to let one door close, another will open.

Now Ushijima, aged 24, has to somehow learn how to begin again. He doesn’t know where to start, or if he even wants to. That's where Tendou Satori comes in.

If you've reached this point, I am very impressed lol!

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