#life can be so cruel the best thing we can do is care for each other and try to make things easier and make people smile

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

remember when jin puts a blanket over jk because he was shivering? you're that jin to me! remember when tae tripped on red carped and get on his knees and jin followed him just to be supportive? you're that jin to me! remember when j-hope had a sore throat and jin gives rj to comfort him? you're that jin to me! I won't even mentioned wearing the same clothes as jimin... bc you're definitely that jin to me!

Is it crazy of me thinking this way? I think that all my love and caring for seokjin it's been passed to you bc you know, jin = you 🥹

I'm sorry. I'm just emocional. Just wanted to let you know how grateful I am to have someone like you around here 💜

y’all are making me so weepy today omg pat this ask is SO nice, i can’t believe you would compare me to such comforting moments 😭

i’m only happy i make you feel somewhat comforted by my presence on here 🥺 i am so grateful to have you here too, you know?? 🤍🤍🤍🤍

[bibluebutterfly]

I think the beautiful thing about the Broppy relationship is how they impact one another.

Branch’s impact on Poppy is the most obvious in the movies because he’s the one who teaches her to calm down and listen.

But what I think people overlook is the fact that despite her flaws, Poppy never gave up on Branch. Because as cute as they are now, there was a time when Branch was actually pretty cruel to her (ie. Putting her down, smashing her custom made invitations for him in front of her face, mocking her ideals, etc) and probably had been treating her like that for years before movie #1.

Everyone else had given up on him, basically deeming him as a lost cause, but Poppy never stopped trying. Yes Branch got on her nerves and hurt her feelings, and as far as she knew he would just throw her invitations away afterwards. Yet despite that she still put in the effort to make him custom invitations and genuinely want him to be there.

And even though he never dared express it, those efforts meant something to him.

Like we love Branch, but I don’t think we give Poppy enough credit for her role in Branch’s life. He was unkind (to put it lightly) to her for years, but despite that she never held any resentment towards him and still felt that he deserved to be happy. And by that incredible persistence, she worked her way into his heart.

See, Branch is a character who is completely used to tragedy and people he loves leaving in his life. So that’s partially why he pushed Poppy away and treated her so poorly. But despite that, Poppy was always THERE. She was with him when literally nobody else was. She was naive, optimistic and annoying, but she was there. Always putting the effort to be his friend, and the only one who had any sort of faith in him. He may have been isolated, but because of Poppy he was never truly alone. And even if it irked him, he still appreciated that.

And when somebody sticks with you literally no matter what, it’s not surprising that he fell more than a little bit in love.

As for Poppy, she’s slowly becoming aware that she can be a bit much sometimes. She always wants the best for her people but she doesn’t always know how to do that. Branch, even if originally rude about it, has always been able to give it to her straight. And even if he pretended not to care, he still had her back when it mattered the most. And after number one, it looks like he has her back more than ever while still being able to be the voice of reason. Which yes, Poppy definitely needs.

(Gah I wish I could put more pictures to elaborate my point but y’all get it.)

Anyway. They’re not perfect characters, but they are perfect for each other. Branch supports Poppy but gives it to her flat out. Meanwhile Poppy too supports Branch and is stubborn enough to stick by him, even when he’ll intentionally and/or unintentionally push her away. And that’s just gorgeous.

[melzula]

Okay I have an request

So like we are azula and zuko sister and we adored by both but like in the catacombs we choose gaang over azula and zuko of this and please can y/n x sokka and now zuko now wants to join gaang and yeah I am not good with words I hope u understand what I said😁

Y/n can be a firebender or non bender its ur choice anyway

a/n: okay so there’s a lot to tackle in this request which is why i chose to do it as headcanons so i hope you don’t mind !

summary: being the middle child isn’t easy, especially when your siblings are Zuko and Azula

As the only non-bender and middle child of the royal family, you never felt like you mattered

You were the Black Swan of the palace, a disgrace to your father and his image

You kept to yourself, staying in the shadows and out of his way while your siblings took the spotlight

However, just because your father looked down upon you didn’t mean your siblings shared his sentiment

In fact, they adored you

Zuko was an attentive older brother. He let you follow him everywhere, defended you against anyone who dared speak badly about you, and was your shoulder to cry on whenever your father was feeling particularly cruel

He saw you for who you were, and who you were was an intelligent, kind, talented young woman meant to do great things in her lifetime

Azula, while being particularly mean to Zuko at times, never once treated you the way she saw her brother

Despite you being a nonbender, she surprisingly never speaks down to you or makes you feel less than

It could be because she doesn’t see you as competition as she does Zuko, or maybe she truly does just feel genuine sisterly love for you

Maybe it’s because whenever she felt your mother was unfairly favoring your brother over her, you were always there to assure her that she was a wonderful bender and just as important

Maybe it’s because sometimes she wished you could be her mother instead

Whatever her reasoning, Azula sees you as a comforting presence in her life. She seeks your validation constantly almost as much as your father’s, and she’d do anything to protect you and your honor

Things became worse for you when Ursa left. She could no longer intervene when your father felt like tormenting you, and your siblings knew better than to say anything in your defense. Shortly after her banishment, Ozai deems it best to send you away to the academy since he has no other use for you

Your departure is hard for both siblings. Zuko is gutted that he can no longer be there to protect you or look after you. Though she acts as if she couldn’t care less, Azula is devastated at your leaving. Her source of comfort is being ripped away from her, and she has no one to look out for her

At the academy you learn various forms of physical combat and weaponry wielding. You’re especially fond of using tanto swords in battle and they’ve become your weapon of choice when in a fight

Zuko and Azula send you letters during your stay at school behind your father’s back updating you about your home, their lives, and their annoyance of each other. You keep every single one they send, and it eases the ache of your home sickness

It’s also at the school that you learn of the Agni Kai and Zuko’s banishment. Your heart breaks for your older brother, and you’re devastated at the fact that you never got the chance to say goodbye and you may never see him again. He still sends letter for a time, but as the years pass they become less frequent and almost nonexistent. Azula’s letters follow the same path

Years pass and your father deems it time for you to come home. Now that you’ve made a decent fighter out of yourself he finds your worthy of being his daughter again

However, your stay is short lived. Azula recruits you to be part of her little team to capture the Avatar and your brother, and you don’t really have any other choice but to agree

You downplay how skilled you are in fighting so that she doesn’t expect much from you and force you to do too much of the work. You don’t want to go against her, but you also don’t want to have to fight your brother and your uncle

You also don’t exactly feel good about destroying the world’s last hope for peace

And that’s why, when the time comes, you choose the Avatar over your siblings

You’re tired of being pulled back and forth, of always being stuck between your siblings with no real purpose, of not being able to do anything for yourself

Zuko is astonished by your choice and conflicted. Just when he finally had found his way back into the family you chose to leave it. Why were you doing this? Why were you ruining everything?

Azula is furious. Your betrayal hurts worse than mother’s. You’d always taken her side, always comforted her and supported her, you’d always been there, and now you were leaving. How dare you leave her?

“You fool!” She’d cried, angrily sending a blast of blue flames your way knowing you wouldn’t be able to stop it. If not for Iroh, surely her strike would have ended you. The fact that your own sister was willing to hurt you for the cause was enough proof to know you were making the right decision

You help the Avatar escape and join his group, vowing to help them in any way you can to win the war. Your fighting skills and knowledge of the Fire Nation makes you a big help and they appreciate your assistance

It doesn’t take long for you to win their trust and acclimate into their group. You become fast friends with everyone, growing especially close to Sokka who may or may not have a huge crush on you

He definitely becomes your shoulder to lean on when things get tough, because he knows it can’t be easy for you to just leave all you’ve ever known behind. you struggle constantly over having to choose the Avatar over your siblings, but he constantly assures you that you’ve made the right choice

Least to say your departure makes Zuko’s return home even more conflicting and turmoil filled. How can he enjoy being back home when you’re not there to enjoy it with him? How could he be happy knowing his sister was out there risking her life to help the Avatar?

Your decision definitely inspires his own to leave the Fire Nation and aid Aang and his friends

Your abandonment of your siblings also fuels Azula’s descent into madness, fueling her fire to continue her mission to capture the Avatar

It’s a rough position you’ve found yourself in, but it’s not like your whole life hasn’t been you stuck in a terrible spot

Being the middle child is hard, especially when your siblings are Zuko and Azula

[thelostconsultant]

I will love you 'til the end

pairing: Mark Webber x Piastri!reader

summary: She's been with Mark for years, they're happy, but life can be cruel sometimes...

note: Based on the poll/idea of @theinsanityclause. Sorry for turning it into something bittersweet.

warnings: terminal illness, age gap

She couldn’t really tell when this thing with Mark had begun. Was it back when she started working for Red Bull? Or was it later, when her little brother joined McLaren? It was hard to tell, but honestly, sometimes she couldn’t even care. They were having fun, enjoying those secret meetings on race weekends, and going off the grid during longer breaks if they had the opportunity. Her family suspected that she had someone, but every time they asked, she rolled her eyes and told them she was chronically single. 

There was a twenty-year age gap, but who counted? As long as this worked between them, they couldn’t care less about this little detail. Why they decided to hide from the public was the fact he was Oscar’s manager. Things would surely become awkward if he found out. Her mom? She would probably accept it. But her brother? Not so much. Neither of them wanted to destroy their respective relationships with him, so it was better to stay under the radar for now. 

“What’s the deal with you and Mark?” Max asked once he plopped down next to her with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

With a sigh, she turned to him, doing her best to give him a disapproving look. “I see what you’re doing, and no, you won’t be free of the social team. We spent an entire week trying to come up with concepts you wouldn’t instantly hate, the least you can do is play nice,” she told him sternly.

But he didn’t seem to be bothered by that, he just waved his hand nonchalantly, then leaned a little closer. “I saw the way you were looking at each other. There must be something.”

“He’s my brother’s manager, we’ve known each other for a long time, that’s all. We get along, just as he gets along with everyone from my family,” she explained with a shrug.

But Max wasn’t convinced, he just rolled his eyes and rested his elbow on the back of the couch as he watched her. “Look, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t look at your family members as if he wanted to devour them on the spot. But when he looks at you? Ooooh, he’s smitten with you.” She hid her face into her hands, letting out a groan as she wondered why the Dutchman had to be so perceptive. “Hey, I’m not telling anyone, I swear.”

She believed him. Sure, Max wasn’t known for being the master of keeping secrets, but as long as no one asked him about her love life, she was safe. And so that’s how he became the only person who knew about the two of them, although they didn’t really talk about it again, but there were teasing looks he shot at her when he saw them talking in the paddock.

On Saturday evening, when she entered her hotel room feeling dead tired, all she wanted was to crawl under the blanket to snuggle up to Mark. They had always gotten key cards to each other’s rooms, so every day they agreed where to meet, and tonight it was her turn to host him for the night. But she was running late, it was way past eleven when she arrived, but he was still up, sitting on the bed as he read something on his phone. The corners of his lips curled into a loving smile when he noticed her, and she didn’t hesitate to kick off her shoes and sit down next to him. 

As she placed a kiss on his shoulder, Mark put his phone on the nightstand, then tipped her head back to finally kiss her properly, smiling at the sound of her soft moan as she moved her hand under his shirt, desperate to feel his warm skin under her fingertips. “Long day?” he asked, deliberately planning to make her talk instead of giving her what she’d been craving since their stolen kiss in the paddock earlier that day. 

It was frustrating, really, because all she wanted was being tired out in bed so she could sleep well, but now it seemed like she wasn't getting that tonight. “I missed you,” she replied eventually when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” 

She heard him gulp at this, his breath caught in his throat from the confession. This wasn’t the first time she had said that, and he already told her these words too, but lately it felt different, it was almost painful for him to hear it. It was understandable. With the number of secrets they were keeping growing all the time, it was only a matter of time before he retreated into a shell to protect himself.

“You don't have to say anything, don't feel like I was trying to pressure you,” she said quietly. 

But when he looked at her, his hazel eyes taking in every little detail of her face, she understood what this was about, and his next words confirmed her theory. “Every time you say this, it sounds like goodbye. You know how terrified I am of that day,” he told her. 

With a sad smile, she moved a little to bury her face into the crook of his neck. “Mark, that day is still far from today. Let's enjoy the time we have, okay? Don't think about this.”

“I'm just not ready to lose you, sweetheart,” he informed her as he pressed a kiss on her head, arms protectively wrapped around her frame. 

“Have you showered?” she asked him, a playful gleam in her eyes making it clear that she wanted a little more than just showering together. To her luck, he understood it, so he let her go and moved out of the bed in sync with her. But on the way to the bathroom she intercepted him by putting a hand on his stomach, then reached up to pull down his head for a kiss. “I was beginning to worry you didn’t want me anymore,” she noted as a joke. 

Mark’s hand moved from her back to her hips, looking for the hem of her Red Bull shirt to take it off her. A deep growl left his throat when he kissed her again, doing his best to show her just how wrong she was if she assumed he had gotten bored of her. During their years together, sex had never been a problem. In fact, in the beginning that’s what their relationship was based on, emotions only came into the picture after the first half a year or so. 

By the time they arrived in Baku two weeks later, things returned to normal, although this was the weekend when they had to be extra careful since her mother was there as well. But it was hard to stay away, especially after the qualifying results and the news of Mark making sure her brother’s contract couldn’t name him the second driver in the team emerging in the media. She was so proud of him for doing everything he could to support Oscar, and in all honesty, she had dozens of ways in her mind to repay for that. 

Following that fantastic win on Sunday, the Piastri family had dinner together to celebrate before the team took Oscar away, and of course he invited his manager as well, after all he was like family by now. But their mood was set before they even left her hotel, because Mark could see she wasn’t in the best shape at the moment. She was happy, he could tell, but she said she felt nauseous, which wasn’t ideal before a big family dinner. 

This was one of those nights when he had to be extra attentive, making sure she was safe, and he had his doubts about doing this right in front of her family without their secrets being revealed. “Maybe we should cancel,” he noted, his bad feeling making him say it before he could truly think about it. Her brother had just won his second race, this time without team orders casting a shadow on the result, there was no way she would miss this. But he had to try for her sake.

Just as he expected, she shook her head and told him that everything was fine, that she had this under control. She wasn’t convincing at all, but there was nothing he could do apart from being there for her. “You should go first. I’ll probably throw up one last time before heading out,” she told him. 

Mark shook his head as he stepped over to her and cupped her face to make her look at him. “You’re not going alone, don’t even think about it. If anyone asks, I was in your hotel to meet someone from Red Bull, and we decided to go together,” he said before giving her a quick kiss. “Or we could just as well say we arrived together because we are dating,” he suggested with a shrug, earning a shocked look from her. “What? Maybe it’s time we tell them the truth. It’s been years, we can’t hide forever. And you know why we should tell them sooner rather than later.”

“Oscar is celebrating today, he’s happy, let’s not ruin this,” she said. 

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head a little. “I’m not saying we should make an announcement. I would pick a… more subtle way to let them know. Just dropping hints. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice.”

She leaned forward to bury her face into his chest, arms wrapped around him as she listened to his heartbeat. Maybe he was right. Maybe it truly was time to slowly let this secret come to light. “Okay, you won. Let’s do this your way,” you said with a sigh. 

The moment they reached the entrance, Mark reached out to take her hand, lacing their fingers tightly as he navigated through the chatting crowd outside. By the time they were taken to the reserved table, Oscar and their mother were already there, deep in a conversation until they noticed them arriving. Nicole stood up and hugged her daughter as if they hadn’t met a few hours ago, but it was a nice feeling. 

But her brother remained seated, his narrowed eyes watching his manager with an inquiring look in them. There was no comment from the older man, so he turned his attention to his sister, who decided to simply ignore him. They started to talk about the race, and it seemed like they would get away with that entrance and the nonchalant touches, but as they were waiting for their desserts, Oscar put up his hand to stop the discussion. 

“Okay, what is going on? You arrive together, hand in hand if I’m not mistaken, you are clearly on the same wavelength as you finish each other’s sentences, and don’t even get me started on those meaningful looks you exchange,” he listed. 

Their mother’s lips curled into a small smile, causing Oscar to give her a questioning look, as if he was asking why she wasn’t shocked to hear that. “You’re such a smart young man, but you can be so slow sometimes,” was all she said with a laugh before turning to her daughter. “How long has it been going on? I know you were together at the beginning of this year, but… I have a feeling there’s a longer history.”

Mark looked over at his girlfriend, deciding that it would be the best if she handled this conversation for now. It was her family, after all, he didn’t want to get involved unless it became necessary. She seemed taken aback, but after gulping loudly, she nodded. “Yeah, well, it’s been about three years now. Maybe a little more,” she confirmed. “How long have you known? And how did you find out?”

“I’m not stalking you, I promise, but you disappeared in January so I checked your location. Remember? You shared it with me. And I saw you were in Mark’s house for weeks,” she explained. 

“I can’t believe it,” Oscar muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you not mad at me?” she asked her mother, once again deciding to ignore her brother. 

Nicole shook her head. “No, why would I be? You’re my daughter, if you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

“Well, not like you cared to ask, but I am not happy,” Oscar interjected with a disapproving look. “Have you considered what you got yourself into? How much older he is? Don’t get me wrong, Mark, you’re in great shape, but what will happen ten or twenty years from now?”

Her eyes softened as she reached out to take the younger Piastri’s hand. “Look, Osc, I know it’s probably a lot to take in, but I love him.” Oscar pulled his hand away and leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on her the whole time. “And we don’t need to worry about what will happen decades from now. Hell, there’s no need for a five-year plan either.”

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed her mother’s surprised look that was soon followed by a logical question. “Are you planning to break up?” she wondered out loud.

There was a heavy sigh before she looked over at Mark, trying to gain some strength from him. When he reached out to take her hand, she took a deep breath and began to explain the situation. “No, not exactly. I’m just… lucky if I’ll have another year. I’m already outliving my doctor’s original prognosis.”

Her mother and brother exchanged confused looks, asking her what doctor she was talking about. So she began to tell them everything she’s been hiding for almost a year, the diagnosis of glioblastoma on the weekend of the Las Vegas grand prix and the treatment that began with the new year, all the critical pieces of information they needed to understand the situation. It hit them hard, she could tell, but since they were in public, they both decided to do their best to keep themselves together. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your day, I’m so sorry,” she told Oscar in the end. 

He only shook his head, his eyes shining from the tears he could barely hold back at this point. “Just promise to come to the party tonight. I–I want to spend time with my sister while I can, okay?” After she nodded, his eyes turned to Mark. “So… she said her treatment started early this year, and mum said she spent weeks with you in January. Did these happen at the same time?”

“I was by her side the whole time, don’t worry. It was tough, but we got through it,” he assured his protégé. 

“But you came to that thing with me, and it took almost a week. Did you leave her alone?”

Shaking his head, Mark let out a quiet laugh. “Well, no, Max was there to entertain her.”

Oscar looked at his sister. “So you told Max, but not us?” he asked incredulously. 

She tilted her head to the side as she gave him a look of disappointment. “Trust me, that wasn’t entirely my decision. He was the one who took me to the hospital in Vegas. He didn’t leave my side until we found out what was wrong with me.”

“I’m your brother, you should have asked me to take you.”

Nicole put a hand on his shoulder, probably understanding that it hadn’t been the kind of situation when she could be picky about the driver. “Let’s just be happy she had people looking out for her. And now she has us too,” she said, flashing a warm smile at her daughter. 

At the party, Oscar decided not to leave his sister’s side. He even took the time to go out and get some fresh air with her, using this opportunity to talk. He wanted to know why she made her decisions, why she decided to hide her relationship with Mark, why she came to the conclusion that not telling them about her illness was a good idea. This was the first time in a while when they had such an honest conversation. She told him that she didn’t want his focus to shift from racing, and that she believed their mother knowing would have resulted in him finding out as well. In return he admitted that she still wasn’t fully okay with her dating his manager, but he promised to try and be understanding. 

They agreed to have a dedicated night on every race weekend when they would just hang out in his room, playing stupid games, eating a lot, and watching TV until they passed out. Oscar would have never admitted it, but ever since he was old enough to remember, he had been clinging to his sister, always begging her to read one more article from his favorite magazine, or to play one more hour with him, or to come see him race to bring him good luck. And she was always there, always supporting and protecting him, even when some stupid kids used his kindness against him. 

Long hours later, around three in the morning, she stumbled into Mark’s hotel room, not drunk, just tired, and she was surprised to see him awake at this time. When she sat on the edge of the bed next to him, he was quick to wrap his arms around her, pressing a kiss on her lips as a welcome. After everything that had happened earlier in the day, she couldn’t fight back her tears anymore, so she buried her face into his shoulder and started sobbing. He tried to soothe her, but it took quite a long time for her to calm down. 

When she finally stopped crying, he lied down and pulled her down with him, his arms still safely around her as she moved closer to him. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered to her, happy to hear her breathing slow down, giving away that she finally fell asleep. It didn’t take him long to drift off to sleep himself, moving on to a dream where everything was okay, where he didn’t have to face the harsh reality of losing her one day. 

[pickingupmymercedes]

Request for this phrase  “what do you think you’d be doing right now if we never met?” As Lewis x reader are on there 6 month anniversary from their first met. And the other phrase :”why are you staring?” As a flash back of love at first site of them meeting up on that day

That was cute to write (Almave mentioned btw, let's help him cash)

"You're staring" and "Thinking about what I'd be doing right now if we never met"

The soft glow of candlelight made the romantic ambiance of the restaurant almost an intimate one. Y/N and Lewis sat across from each other, their eyes sparkling as they looked at each other.

Six months. It was a milestone they wanted to celebrate quietly, a private moment between two people that were past the “deeply cared” and leaning more towards “deeply in love”.

As Y/N scanned the cocktail menu, her gaze drifted to Lewis, who was watching her with a tender smile. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air.

"You're staring," she said, her voice a playful accusation.

Lewis chuckled; his eyes still fixed on her. "Just thinking what I'd be doing right now if we never met."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And?"

"And," he continued, "I can't even remember what I was doing before I met you."

Y/N laughed, her heartwarming at his words. "Yeah, right you don’t. You were probably racing, partying, living the fast life."

He shook his head, a wistful expression on his face. "The racing is okay, but the rest? It was… empty."

As they waited for their appetizers, Y/N's mind wandered back to the day they first met. She'd been aimlessly browsing a liquor store, searching for a new drink to try when she'd spotted a peculiar-looking bottle. Intrigued, she'd reached for it, only to be intercepted by a tall, handsome stranger.

"Almave," he'd said, his voice confident. "Trust me, it's better than it looks."

She'd raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in her expression. "A tequila without alcohol? Sounds like a cruel joke."

He'd chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I know it sounds strange, but it's actually really good. I can prove it."

And prove it he did, inviting her to his place that same night for a taste test. An invitation she had completely ignored, at first.

"Remember when you were trying to convince me that Almave was the best thing since sliced bread?" Y/N asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Lewis grinned. "How could I forget? You were so skeptical, but I knew I had to win you over."

"You were so persistent," Y/N teased "I mean, who invites a complete stranger over for a drink tasting?"

Lewis grinned. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, I knew I had to convince you."

"Convince me of what?" she asked, curious.

"That I was the missing piece of your life, of course," he replied, his voice filled with mock seriousness.

She chuckled. "It took you almost two weeks to get me to agree to that first drink."

"Worth the wait," he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Smooth."

As they continued to reminisce, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about their first dates, the nervous anticipation, the electric connection they had felt from the start. They talked about the challenges they had faced and mostly the compromises they had made.

"I can't believe it's only been six months," Y/N said, her voice filled with wonder. "It feels like just yesterday we were strangers."

Lewis took her hand, squeezing it gently. "It feels like a lifetime ago," he replied. "But in the best possible way."

______________________________________________________________

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[lorelaiblair]

i love the “addamsification of enid sinclair” and “gomezification of wednesday addams” tags on ao3 so much and im here to explain why

being with wednesday doesn’t completely change enid’s personality, she was always capable of being violent and abhorrent, we see a prime example of that when she slashes the school bus when ajax stands her up. she just hides it, an abundant need to be loved and appreciated so she puts on a show of being the kind girl who is a friend to everyone. not that she isn’t also kind and wonderful, just that she forces it sometimes and hides the real rage that she feels.

then wednesday comes along.

she doesn’t care what people think about her and it’s an inspiration to enid, wednesday is mean and cruel yet people love her anyway, enid loves her anyway. enid stops hiding herself, she gets angry and she ruins things and threatens people and being able to stop holding everything in is therapeutic, being able to finally be herself is amazing. she’s happier than she can ever remember being before.

her friends, yoko mostly, make jokes about how wednesday is a bad influence. enid couldn’t disagree more, wednesday gave enid herself. wednesday gave enid the courage and support to be who she really always has been. wednesday is the best thing that has ever happened to her, maybe that means she’s outwardly more violent or rude, it’s better than letting people walk all over her like she had been doing.

and on the plus side,wednesday couldn’t love enid more, yet she finds herself falling in love over and over again.

which brings me to my next point

wednesday has spent her entire life trying not to be like her parents, they’re sentimental and sappy and obsessed with each other. wednesday has been forced to watch it her entire life and it’s always made her want to peel the skin from her own bones. the idea of being dependent on someone like that, being reliant upon someone else who she has no control over is terrifying.

then there is enid.

right away enid respects wednesday’s boundaries, she pushes them just enough so that wednesday is still comfortable, never crossing that line without permission. she sees wednesday for everything that she is, it’s horrible, but she loves wednesday nonetheless. she sees wednesday for her obsessiveness and violence and cruelties and loves her. they fight but enid comes back to make sure wednesday is okay, enid decides that they work together even if wednesday is all of those things, enid loves wednesday despite knowing her better than anyone.

it’s worth it then, isn’t it? for enid. she knows that the colorful girl would never betray her, never hurt her. she knows that her heart will be safe in those clawed hands. she devotes herself, absolutely, to loving enid. wednesday addams loves enid sinclair more than she thought she was capable of loving at all.

enid saved her, literally and figuratively. wednesday is alive because enid has loved her, she will spend the rest of that life making sure enid knows just how much that love is reciprocated.

[realvicoba]

My views on Gon's rage scene!! 🤓🫶

Let's get this out of the way first— is Gon a selfish monster?

Let me show some nuance in his rage scene and tunnel vision onto Pitou, how he hurt Killua, and his threats on an innocent girl.

Even while filled with rage to the point of almost losing himself and dealing a killing blow to Morel at that phase of his life, he was still worried about Palm's safety and one of the first to realize the inherent danger Knuckle and Meleoron were in on that staircase and the possibility of Youpi not having an oppenent.

He still had the wit and the care for his comrades.

And when Knuckle came on screen while Gon was actively seething in front of Pitou, he still made an effort to let Knuckle know that Pouf was a liar.

So we saw two little scenes where Gon showed that despite his rage and goal, he still put time aside to help his comrades. In the middle of all the anger, all the guilt, and the bloodthirst— he didn't forget his bros.

We already know he did wrong things. Threatening Komugi was very shocking, but as I've mentioned in my Gon character study— it was a moment of anger, confused morals and desperation to keep the monster in control.

With that out the way, let's get to the main course... How he hurt Killua.

Killua wants to be relied on, no matter the cost. He wants this to be like the volleyball match where Gon could only rely on him regardless of how much pain it could cause Killua— he wants them to go down in flames together, a "lover's suicide" as the original Japanese text says.

He wants to be proven to once more that Gon needs him and no one else, that he can't go alone. Killua needs to feel important that way, he needs to feel worthwhile, that he can do something for his best friend to help him the way no one else can.

Gon going off on his own like that broke that source of comfort and self worth Killua had created in Gon needing him.

And if anything, I think it was very important for Killua's character.

It was incredibly important for Killua to be pushed away at that moment, to not be allowed to sacrifice himself, and in turn get the time to rethink what he needs and wants to do with his life and his views on friendship.

And having to clean up an impossible mess after him put into perspective just how important Killua is, and that's why he was so adament on being the one to save Gon.

It's honestly such an interesting scene— It's not like Killua suddenly did a 180, but something this severe and seeing Gon's immature side and flaws on display more had a huge hand in his character development.

That's Killua's side, what about Gon's? We know both of them love each other dearly, and while Killua wished to go down with him, Gon wanted to be the one to carry that burden. Alone.

"I killed him."

Even though Killua was there too, and blamed himself as well. Gon didn't consider him responsible at all despite him running away as well, and Killua saying so.

And Gon comforts Killua, and himself.

As much as Killua sees Gon as the light, Gon sees him as the voice of reason. His awesome, smart friend who does no wrong— both have each other on a pedestal.

Though blinded by confusion and rage during the fight, he undervalued Killua's judgment, but still listened enough to wait for Pitou to finish healing Komugi.

And I also believe Gon was saving up his rage for that moment.

It was his battle, because it's his fault. Killua has no business because not only did Kite not hold as much importance to him, but because he had no fault in the matter— Killua didn't need to sacrifice himself again.

So, while Killua was willing to die alongside his friend and carry the burden together, Gon wanted to be the only one sacrificing himself and carrying that burden. He said so in the Yorknew city arc, and he proved it in the CAA.

He loves Killua, and it even shows in his harsher and cruel words.

I hope this made sense 🙏

[be-missed]

Cool About It

Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

Summary: Jenna and Y/N are life-long best friends, but can Y/N still stand and hide her feelings after Jenna pulled a prank on her?

Warning/s: curse words, notify me if there are any.

A/N: Hi, hope this can be a good substitute for Chap 4 of Not Strong Enough. Enjoy! (clearing things out, this is not the Chapter 4 for Not Strong Enough, this is just a substitute story for you all, so that you have something to read while waiting for the Chapter 4 for Not Strong Enough.)

Masterlist

Nothing To Lose (Part 2) | Bad for Business (Part 3)

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Come on it'll be fun, we can walk around the park and then ride the boat." Jenna explained while lying down in Y/N's bed and scrolling through her phone.

Y/N looked at her with a questioning look and said "Isn't that a bad idea? Because people might hover over us and people will just follow us and that is something that my anxiety can't handle."

"Noooo, pleaseee. This is a good idea, it's a Thursday afternoon, nobody or only least people will be at the park." Jenna answered, pouting.

"Jenna, stop." Y/N said with a smile on her face "You know it's hard for me when you do that."

Ans Jenna just smiled because she knows that Y/N is so close to going "Pleeaasseeee, pretty pleaseeee. I'll buy you an ice cream." Jenna proposed.

"Hmm, you think an ice cream can make me agree with your plan, huh?" Y/N answered.

"Yes, I know that you will agree to me sooner. Just imagine us binding after such a long time of not seeing each other. Also, may I remind you that I'll be leaving the country in December to film for Wednesday so this is a great time to spend with me before we get situated again in face time." Jenna is now showing Y/N a sad face.

Jenna's statement made Y/N wonder, that yes, it is true that Jenna's break will be over soon, meaning that she will be receiving a call or a message from Jenna during ungodly times which, she diligently answers, whether it may be a call or a message.

Y/N sighs and Jenna knows that y/N will now agree with her plan. But before Y/N agrees, Jenna started to jump in Y/N's bed and smiles at Y/N.

"You know me so fucking well Jenna Marie Ortega." Y/N said while scratching her brow "Yes, sure we'll go to the park."

And then Jenna went ot hug Y/N and delivers ton of kisses on Y/N's face.

Y/N thought, "Fucking hell, how can I disagree with this girl. If she tells me to jump on a tall something, I would even do some back flips. She wants me to run around New York City? I would do it with my tits out. She want me to marry her and be the mother of her children? I will for sure do that without a doubt. The last part, is a false hope. I know Jenna isn't into me since the first time that I met her."

"Okay, collect your things and get dressed, we're going to Central Park." Y/N said and taps Jenna's crown and smiled at her like a cute puppy.

Even if Jenna and Y/N are together, they will literally wear the headphones that they bought for each other, just to drown out their environment. But even the noise cancelling headphone can't stop them to communicate with each other. After knowing each other so well for years, they don't need to communicate verbally.

While walking, Y/N then got lost again with her own thoughts. She feels that Jenna knows that she likes her more than a best friend should have for quite some time now. That is why in the past few months, Y/N has been getting a lot more "busier" when it comes to Jenna. She tries so hard to detach herself from the girl. If Jenna won't be kind enough to be cruel about it and just reject her, then Y/N will try to be cool about it even though it's probably not even true.

Arriving at Central Park, the two girls started to walk nonchalantly, going where their feet take them, not caring about the people that took notice of them.

They sometime give snacks to the pigeons or the ducks that they passed by, try to pet the dog that was sitting beside their owner. Taking a look at thier surroundings, both of them realised that a lot from the park changed, the becnhes that were once there, the trees thatvwere cut out and displaced by another plant, and the rusts on the bench that they always pass by.

Y/N was walking not until Jenna stopped by the row boat rentals and Y/N just moved her head from side to side "Nuh uh, Jenna. We won't and we can't." Y/N said.

"But why? We used to ride the boats and just row around, pretending to be a part of a rowing team." Jenna stated pulling at Y/N's sleeve.

"Jen, that was before." Y/N reasoned.

Jenna looked sad "Do you not want to be seen with me? Is that it?"

That was the last thing that Y/N wants Jenna to think of because it is not true.

"No, absolutely not. I just think that..." Y/N said not knowing any reason on why not to ride the boat.

"See you have no reasons to not ride it. So please let's ride the boat." Jenna said, and with that they got a boat, just the two of them and started to row.

Many people are also in their own boat, talking, playing, laughing and admired their surroundings. Also, Y/N and Jenna's boat didn't get unnoticed by the people in the park or inside the boat. People were waving at them and calling Jenna's name. Jenna waved back or replied to them but her focus was still focused on you, not until you hear Jenna coughed.

Many boats surrounds you as this is where one of the good spots for a picture. It means that many people also surrounds you and can literally hear each other.

"Mhmm, Y/N, I don’t know where to start..." Jenna said with a smirk ok her face and Y/N didn't know what's going on, Jenna then continued "We have known each other for a lot of years, we have been with each other through our ups and downs and we are still here." Jenna then secretly took the ring from her pointer finger and present it in front of you.

Now. Now Y/N is so baffled with what is Jenna doing, people started to look at them and paid attention to what is happening inside their boat. Even the people who are in land started to stop and watch the scene unfolding in front of them.

"I have loved you ever since I met you and I want to love you 'till the day I die. I just want to ask if, will you marry me?" Jenna got up from her seat and started to kneel with her right knee.

Y/N's thoughts are all over. Why is Jenna fucking doing this? Is this her way to fucking play with her feelings? Is this all a joke to Jenna? She wants Jenna to be cruel about it and just reject her but not this way, Y/N will try her best to be cool about it even if it's not, but this stunt? Y/N didn't know if she can still see Jenna and not say some hurtful things towards the girl.

Everyone around them started to cheer and fished their phone out to capture this moment, because hell, Jenna Ortega is proposing. Flashing of lights where delivered from each phone that is hanging out, hollers and congratulations can be heard in different directions, claps can be heard everywhere and that triggered Y/N.

It was so loud around her, and why the fuck is Jenna proposing to her.

"Jenna I need to get out." Y/N said.

"What do you mean?" Jenna started to see the panic in Y/N's eyes.

"Fuck Jenna I need to get out of here" Y/N stated and started to row the boat in a faster pace that forced Jenna to take a seat.

As the boat started to get near the dock, Y/N didn't gave Jenna a time to talk and bolted away. Away from the girl, away from the people, and away from the world.

---

Many hours has passed but Jenna can't still contact Y/N. Jenna even waited in front of Y/N's front door for hours but there were no signs of her best friend.

------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hoped this is good enough. Thoughts and comments are open, thanks for reading!

Nothing To Lose (part 2)

[actual-changeling]

everyone is so caught up in the bee/gabe and crowley/aziraphale relationship mirror that the entire thing just gets reduced to that when it is telling us something much more important.

angels and demons aren't the enemy.

out of ALL angels and demons, aziraphale got the best life. away from heaven, free to do however he pleases, no one cares. his issues are self-made morality spirals he cannot find his way out of because facing that heaven is not what he needs it to be is terrifying.

but all the other angels up in heaven—they're not evil. they're not irredeemable. they're practically traumatized children kept in an environment defined by gaslighting, isolation, and neglect.

on the other side you have demons in hell forced into close proximity, forced to be cruel to survive, taught that they are evil and bad. their righteous rage got abused and twisted and they are traumatized children just like the angels.

it does not excuse the behaviour of the archangels or dukes of hell but it explains it. hating them is not the solution to any of the problems heaven/hell has because they're not the ones causing them. they are victims of the system just as much as crowley and aziraphale are.

THAT is what jim shows us. without heaven he is just a guy! a guy who loves hot chocolate and asks questions and creates sorting systems for books because he wants to.

and beez is stuck in a job they hate, stuck with people they hate, feeling the full force of neglect and subsequent abuse. they want acknowledgement, someone who tells them hey, you're doing a good job. you're doing great. YOU are great.

yes, they mirror aziracrow, but they show us that they hated their jobs just as much as aziraphale and crowley hated theirs. michael has arrangements with demons in secret, they work with the EXACT SAME denial and deception mechanisms as our two do.

muriel was isolated and is eager to please, meanwhile the archangel had to learn how to survive with the consequences of failing burned into their minds.

aziraphale will get up there and eventually they will be on the same page—more or less—because the enemy is the person running the system. the one who keeps it in place, and that is (as far as we know) the metatron.

aziraphale and the angels can help each other. they have different skill sets, different kinds of knowledge and approaches to their trauma, and if you combine them and give them the time and space to think shit through they will tear heaven down from the inside out.

[tarjapearce]

soccer family

how did miguel propose 👀💍

The serious questions yo ❤️✨

Hope you like 🥹✨

Time and life were funny. Sometimes funny in the good kind of way, sometimes in the oddest sorts. If someone would have told Miguel those three years ago, in that evening at Peter's carneada that he would meet his future wife, he'd surely would've just rolled his precious mahogany eyes at cuss in spanish at whoever speaking such nonsense.

He wasn't in the look for someone, yet there you were, his serendipity. Coming into his life like an unforgiving hurricane of things and emotions he had never had the time nor the interest in experiencing at their fullest.

Yet, there you were.

Blatant, not giving two shits on his scary nature, fascinated by him through and through and brazen for making a move. That had surely sealed the deal for him.

He wasn't one for backing away from difficulties, he knew much the challenge he represented to others. And still, you did not only pass it with flying colors, but had actually enjoyed it. Enjoyed him; and in all truth, he enjoyed you too.

Enjoyed the push and pull you offered, the demented moments that certainly earned his brain another wrinkle since he was learning so much from you. Enjoyed your attention and how willingly you'd bask him into it. You were his nepenthe.

How gentle and patient you were with him, when everyone expected so much out of him. Of course he was a genius, or else he wouldn't be into the Lab's head division back in Alchemax. But the way you made him experience things felt surreal, and the feeling increased ten times fold when you shared your first kiss.

The way your lips had tasted and devoured each other was engraved into his core memories. The way you both had explored and shared your emotions was exciting, thrilling yet oh so scary for him.

He wasn't one used to be taken care of. He was the caretaker. A self imposed role he always seemed invested in. But your little ways of weaving into his heart and mind showed him a new perspective of the world he often ignored.

He'd never forget how gentle and careful your tiny fingers were, when helping him patching up in that dirty soccer game. How shameless you were enjoying his reactions. How gorgeous you looked when your eyes wrinkled when laughing your ass off at his suffering. Cruel, but so so hypnotizing.

You'd soon become his wonderwall. His obsession and the only reason he'd go to social gatherings really. If you were there, everything was as it should be. Wonderful, the world would keep spinning normally, but in the few times your absence said present, he'd go home early. Bored out of his mind, the rest was too simple and unworthy of his attention.

Of course, women threw themselves at him. Appearance wasn't something he indulged too much neither care. He was aware of his looks, specially on his little pair of abnormal fangs you loved to feel, for whatever reasons.

"I just do." You'd tell him. And that was more than enough motive to stop worrying over them. You loved them. You loved him.

Every bit of his unwanted self, you made sure he'd know how much you enjoyed it, how much you cherished that certain part he had grown uncomfortable with through his younger years and he'd do the same for you.

After you had shared your bodies, there was no turning back for him. He gave everything of himself into you. His flesh, his scent, his energy and love to you. Something so raw yet pure that turned you into his inspiration, his muse.

You always strived to be better, for yourself mostly.

"How can one be the best version of oneself if we don't grow ourselves as individuals? I want you to have the best of me."

You'd shared in between giggles and drunken thoughts.

He adored your drunk self but would never admit it out loud. You'd come up with the most random yet brain eater questions you could imagine.

He'd fear that day that nearly lost you completely over his stupid pride. A fight ignited by your family. A reason to rarely and never visit them.

He loved your mind. And as months passed on you both, he learned how to love your flaws as well.

And now, three years after, you had given him one of his most precious gifts. His firstborn. His daughter. His child. The result of his unbridled love towards you.

You were his. But of course you had no ways to prove it to the world.

He'd spend hours if possible, watching you through loving yet stoic eyes, feed his little bundle of love, that was overjoyed whenever he held her.

A little Gabriella that was now deep asleep into her crib, in her own room, under his roof. Of course you'd move in with him when Gabi was born. It was the right thing to you.

Six months had passed since her birth, and three years with six months had passed since he met you.

You crawled under the sheets, quanked, yet with the little bits of energy you had left, curled into his chest. Seeking his blanketing warmth. His chest your safe space.

"Took me longer this time to make her fall asleep"

"Yeah. Maybe we should take her to the doctor."

His brows knitted together briefly before kissing your forehead.

"I'm pretty sure she'll be fine."

Silence crawled on you both as you just relished into each other's company. His heartbeat kept pounding in his ears.

The past year and a half had gone through but a certain question was always present. Why hadn't he ask you sooner? It didn't matter.

You remained at his side. So ever loyal, so brave, so rident and brisk. You were exactly what the hypothetical cupid delivered him after his secret longings.

"Mi reina?" (My queen)

An endearing term he only used when discussing serious matters. Despite the exhaustion taking your body hostage, you inquired him with a small and sleepy 'Hm?'

"Would you marry me?"

Eyes looked up at him, a mix of surprise and anger. Surprise that he'd ask such thing out of the blue and anger for the question to be so... powerful and simple that left you speechless. And still, you couldn't help but chuckle out of nervousness.

"It's not a laughing matter corazón. I mean it. Would you marry me?"

You felt your left ring finger being adorned with a golden band that against all odds was perfect in your finger. Like he had forseen this for quite the time.

But it also made sense. All those little moments of him touching and examining your hands resumed into this moment.

"Of course I wanna marry you, tontito" (dummy)

He chuckled as he caressed your hair in his own self grounding and reassuring touch.

"Good. Good."

"Te amo."

His heart wasn't raging anymore, but soaring into this quiet and maddening joy. You had said yes. The words he so yearned for you to say , finally spoken to his heart.

"También te amo, preciosa."

Your own heart soared in bliss at the words you had been secretly practicing over and over. You no longer had to practice, since one of your secret and wildest dreams had came true.

[uhhlifeig]

Death - October 9 - word count: 456 - @wolfstarmicrofic (MCD)

Sirius sat beside the werewolf’s prone body, his fingers laced tightly with Remus’s cold ones, as if holding on could stop what was coming. 

He had never felt so powerless.

Remus's breathing was shallow, each rise of his chest a slow, labored effort. His body, frail and worn down, had been fighting for so long- years of transformations, years of pain. 

His disease had finally caught up. The toll of the full moons, of the constant strain on his body, had proven too much.

And now? Now, all Sirius could do was watch.

Remus was slipping away.

Sirius clenched his jaw, his throat tight. “Moony… stay with me,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Please.”

Remus’s eyelids fluttered, his once chocolate-brown eyes dull and heavy with exhaustion as they met Sirius’s. 

“You know I can’t,” the younger man murmured, his voice raspy and thin, barely audible.

The dog animagus shook his head, his grip tightening around Remus’s hand. “You can. You have to. We- we’re supposed to have more time. We’re supposed to grow old and—”

Remus gave a weak chuckle, cutting him off. “Old?” His voice was soft, weak. “We never really were destined for that, were we?”

Sirius bit his lip hard, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. “I don’t care. I wanted it with you.”

Remus’s eyes closed again, his chest barely moving with each breath. The noiret leaned closer, pressing his forehead against the other’s clammy skin, tears falling freely. 

“I can’t do this without you,” the gray-eyed man whispered, his voice raw, desperate.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Remus replied softly, his voice growing fainter with each word.

Sirius let out a strangled sob, burying his face in Remus’s neck. “Not without you,” he choked. “I’m not strong enough without you.”

Remus’s breath hitched, his grip on Sirius’s hand loosening. “You… were always strong. I… never told you enough,” the dirty blonde whispered, his words disjointed, fading. “But you were always the best thing…”

Sirius shook his head, pressing his face against Remus’s hand. “No, Moony. You… you were. You always were.”

The room was too quiet now. Sirius’s own breathing sounded too loud, too harsh in the stillness. 

Remus’s breaths had slowed, each one weaker than the last. 

And then… nothing.

Sirius’s heart stopped as the silence stretched on, suffocating and cruel. He waited, desperate for the rise of Remus’s chest, for any sign of life. But there was nothing. 

Just stillness.

Sirius’s hands trembled as he cradled Remus’s limp body in his arms. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I love you so much.”

But there was no reply. No gentle teasing, no quiet reassurance. Just the silence. Just Remus, gone with Death.

And Sirius, left behind.

@estellethewriter

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Hiii! could you maybe write a Grayson x reader fic with a reader who doesn’t feel she is lovable cos her parents were abusive and taught her that?

hi!! thanks for your request, I realise it’s taken me a while to get around to writing it, so very sorry about that. It was a little dark but I’ll gave it a go. pre-warning I’ve never written anything like this before, so if it’s inaccurate or insensitive, I’m very sorry.

title: never good enough

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: a make out session brings back some unwanted memories that you’re forced to face

warnings: really heated make-out session, suggestive themes (but nothing bad bad), lots of past trauma, swearing, panic attack, abusive parents

a/n: if any of the warnings trigger you, please do not read on, I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s pain!! I’d feel so guilty!!

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @heartwithsimplenotes @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual

I like the way he tastes and the feel of his lips on mine. It’s not something I see myself getting bored of. It feels nice. But what feels nicer is the feeling of someone desiring you, someone wanting you, maybe even needing you. The feeling that someone chose you for a reason, because you matter to them. I like that feeling the best.

With each kiss I imagine that he actually feels something for me. It’s easier to play pretend. If you play pretend for long enough it can start to feel like reality. Growing up, I used to create things in my head all the time. Fictitious fantasies to fill in my empty voids of emotion. I suppose the habit had bled into my adult life.

He moans against my lips. The sound of pleasure indicating I’ve done something right, something he enjoys. My heart swells at this symbol of approval. Why do I thrive off of approval? I shake the feeling away in another deep kiss, burying it under a mound of other things I was ignoring. If I can’t see them they’re not there, if I turn my back, if I close my eyes.

These kisses are meaningless really, my brain knows it, actually it keeps attempting to remind me but I’ve gotten quite good at discarding things people say. They hurt my heart but not my head.

Grayson isn’t one to display how he feels for me publically. He’s mentioned before that he feels he doesn’t need to display how he feels to the world, he’s doesn’t care what the world thinks, he only cares what I think. It’s a beautifully designed excuse to tell me secretly that he doesn’t want to show affection in public because he doesn’t want me. I’m an embarrassment to love. I always have been.

But I don’t care. Our private moments together are bliss because I get to escape the truth and I like that. The truth is bitter like the cud, it’s harsh, it’s cruel, it’s painful. I’ve had too much of that already. So in the moments where I can I indulge so much I blind myself from it, I revel in the occasion. For the while.

His hands are firmly on my hips and I can feel the warmth of them through my clothes. They feel strong and supportive. They might be the only thing holding me together right now or it feels like it anyway. My hands are buried deep within his hair but I’m too caught up in the moment to think about it much. His kisses are quick and sweet, a little gentle. Sometimes he’d draw one or two out into longer, more passionate kisses. I didn’t care, as long as his lips were on mine, my memories would be forgotten. He begins to slide his hand up my body, tracing the curves of my bodice and up all the way until his cupping my face in his hands.

“I love you,” he pants, cheeks rosy and flushed, as we pull apart for breath, “more than you’ll ever know.”

Every time he says those words it ignites yet another fragment of my heart, that burns into ash in my chest. He’s killing me softly and I’m sure he’s enjoying it. He’s just telling me he loves me so I’ll stay with him, give him what he wants until he’s bored enough. That’s fine. I don’t mind. I know this, I’ve always known this. But getting to live in these moments, these moments laced in fierce passion and licked with flames of lust always made the harsh reality easier to swallow.

I don’t reply. Instead I kiss harder, more intensely. Maybe if I kiss with even more vigor, even more passion I can completely forget my pain. Maybe my mind will go blank and won’t be able to fill it in this time. I want the piercing sensation of white light to hit me and if it does I will let it burn me. Until my memories are incinerated and I no longer have to live with the weight of fear on my chest

He registers my sudden serge for more and begins to deliver. He matches my yearning for something deeper, something more. We’re caught up in heavy breathing, racing hearts and profuse sweating. Neither one of us cared. My hands find the hem of his shirt and I am tempted to tug down on the fabric but I don’t trust myself. My mind is too hypnotised by the sweet poison of his persuasive lips, I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t make decisions like these. We’ve never gone further than kisses and I’m not sure if going further right now would make me feel better or worse. But who cares right?

No. I don’t let myself get that carried away. Not yet anyway. Even though I’ve previously been stripped of my dignity I will not be the one to do it to myself now. I take my hands away and slide them around the back of his neck.

We stop. Suddenly. And for a moment the standstill is uncomfortable. The absence of married lips is eerie almost. My mouth is tingling and I crave his taste already, it hasn’t been two seconds. It’s worse than drugs. I don’t want to stop kissing, every time we stop it opens a window for me to remember. A window I’ve been trying to avoid for far too long now.

He looks into my eyes and for a second I actually believe I’m wanted. Pools of gray, like a clear lake glistening in the moonlight. Pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty lips. But pretty doesn’t get you love. He smiles at me gently, a quiet kindness sparkles in his eyes. Sometimes I wonder how he is so perfect at forging this tenderness, how he claimed these masterful acting skills.

He trails his fingers gently down my face. It feels like he cares, the tentative manor misleading. Then suddenly I’m no longer in the apartment with Grayson. I’m back in my old house. No. I couldn’t be here. Not here. Anywhere but here. I don’t want to be back here. I escaped, I ran, I left, it was all over. I made sure it was over. I, I, I -

I’m back.

Sat on the living room sofa, that horrible itchy dull grey sofa, that appeared in my nightmares frequently. It even smells the same. The sour smell, that makes my stomach flip and my hands begin to shake. These four walls still haunt me. It looks as if they’re closing in, slowly, slowly. Like the room is getting smaller and I’m trapped. Claustrophobia seems to be my only companion.

My hands shake uncontrollably and no matter what I try and do to calm down, nothing works. I thought I was getting better, I thought I was coping well, I thought that it was going away. But this is proving otherwise.

I’m reliving a memory. A memory I’ve always wanted to forget. A memory scorched into my brain that tended to replay over and over like a relentless broken record that could never be smashed. I feel sick. I know what’s coming. No. I know who is coming.

His footsteps are an immediate giveaway and the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. I’m curled in a ball down, small, hiding like a helpless animal in a hole. If I curl up maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he won’t see me.

“What are you doing?”

A shiver runs down my spine. Every note in his voice is exactly how I remember it. The question echos around my head but I say nothing in reply. My words won’t form in my state of paralysis.

“Answer me girl!” my father barks. His voice venomous, dangerous.

“Nothing,” I reply quickly.

He grabs my arm, his fingers so tight around me that I’m sure that they’ll be bruises forming soon. He yanks me up as I attempt to cower backwards.

“Don’t take that tone with me you whore,” he spits in my face, the pungent wreaking of alcohol on his breath as he throws me to the floor.

I hit it with a thud. A dull aching thud. Just like the dull aching monotony of this scene that was just a part of every day life back then. I don’t move from the ground, I’ve learnt not to fight back. That only landed me in hospital last time. I lay there so still I hope he thinks I’m dead so he’ll leave me alone. He does not. He knows better. Unfortunately for me, he knows his daughter.

“You’re nothing but a piece of shit,” growls the voice that makes my blood curdle, “you hear that?”

I thought I’d left him far behind. I thought he was gone. I thought wrong. I am naive and I’m the idiot I have always been. I don’t reply again. There’s nothing to reply with. Of course I heard.

“I said, you HEAR that?” he screams it louder.

I don’t reply. Stupid mistake but he doesn’t give me time to undo it. He’s already standing over me. It had already begun.

***

He beats my body until my brittle bones long to snap. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. Those four words repeat over and over in my head. They might be the only thing keeping me conscious. No matter how much it hurts he cannot know he’s won. I refuse to hand him that victory of a silver platter, decorated in my jewels of agony.

And for a split second I wonder where my mother is and I don’t even know why. She would’ve do anything, she never did. She just stood there, emotionales, detached. Mothers are meant to protect and defend their children against anything in the world, it made me wonder why mine did not. It made me wonder if I were born to different people or maybe not born at all if things might be better off.

It’s not the time for thinking, I’m reminded. Another kick. I will not cry. A punch. I will not cry. My lip splits open. I will not cry. A twist of my left arm. I will not cry, I think my nose is broken. I will not cry.

“Stubborn little bitch won’t even shed a tear,” he snarls, bitterness so evident on his tongue I was surprised it hasn’t dissolved yet.

Yes I am stubborn. No I will not cry. Not for him. And then it happens. All over again. Beaten, bruised, battered, broken.

I can’t breathe. I’m in so much agony there’s no way I could even scream. So tears roll softly down my face as I’m curled up on the floor in defeat, desperation and humiliation. My body is nearly motionless, my limbs lay slack at my sides. I can’t help myself and no one is coming to save me. I let myself cry, broke the only promise I had to myself. I’m even betrayed my own brain for him.

I look up at him, tear streaked face. Is he happy now? Is he finally happy with me? Am I finally going to revive some sort of approval? Stupid questions to be wondering when I know exactly how this story ends.

As my eyes meet his, my father trails his fingers gently down my face. It still stings from the slap, the cells on my cheek screaming in agony. There’s the faint tinge of metallic blood in my mouth. My father trails his fingers gently down my face. Grayson trails his fingers gently down my face. My father trails his fingers gently- Grayson trails his fingers- My father trails- Grayson tr- my father Grayson my father Grayson my father Grayson my father.

SNAP.

I shiver and jerk away suddenly standing up. I try to back away as Grayson’s eyes fill with concern.

“What’s wrong,” he asks me, trying to reach out to me. I recoil at his attempt of a touch, like a frightened animal.

“I need to leave,” I barely get out, through my shallow breathing as I turn to find the door.

Where is the door? I couldn’t find the door. Breaths come in quicker and faster. Suffocating. I am suffocating. An invisible man has a plastic bag over my head and he is choking me slowly with it. I’m losing oxygen, I’m losing the things that keeps me alive.

Grayson is on his feet beside me, careful not to touch me, “did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you,” I pant, so breathless I wonder if I’m still breathing at all, “it’s all me.”

Dizziness rolls over me and I close my eyes. I feel my body sway slightly, my sense of balance robbed from me. A pair of strong hands catch my waist and pull me upright again. I try and focus my eyes but the room is spinning.

“Woah, hey,” it’s Grayson’s soft voice, “come here.”

That’s when I realise his hands are touching me. I try to pull away but can’t see where I’m going. I can’t see anything as black dots dance across my vision.

“No!” I yell, my ear beginning to ring.

“Hey, stop,” he says gently, ”sit down and take a breath.”

“No I can’t, I can’t, you don’t understand,” I hyperventilate, my chest in so much pain.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs rhythmically, extending his hand out towards me for me to take if I wanted.

I flinch away. His eyes are deep with realisation, he knows, he understands. I’ve given my secret away.

“Who hurt you?”

His voice is almost ragged, almost angry. His eyes are blazing, the soft grey hardens into cold steel. I open my mouth but no sound comes out. The words are unable to be spoken, they feel to forbidden. I don’t think I’d ever admitted my childhood out loud. I need air, fresh air. I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.

I feel like I’m drowning. Water blurring my vision, my heat pounding in my chest, my lungs screaming at me for the oxygen I cannot give them. My limbs frozen in a state of paralysis, heavy as lead, dragging me down. I can’t kick myself to the surface, I’m helplessly lost. All I can do I stare up and watch the last sight I’ll probably ever see. Sinking, sinking, sinking. I think I can feel my lungs fill up. They burn as if eager flames are licking the internal organ in pleasure. I can hear someone’s voice, it’s muffled, like there’s water in my ears. I can’t make out what they’re saying. I wonder if this person will haul my body from the water or they’ll give up on me like everyone else.

“It’s okay,” the voice is soft and sweet, it becomes clearer by the second, “don’t say anything, just focus on breathing for me, okay?”

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. I take one look into his silvery grey eyes and in this second trust him with my everything. My heart is racing and I can hear my sharp intakes of breath. I manage a small nod as he helps me back down onto the bed, propping pillows up behind my back. I’m sweating, profusely and I feel revolting. The tremor in my hands is slowing slightly as he clasps them in his.

“I need you to breathe,” he tells me, making direct eye contact.

My chest is so constricted it physically hurts. The aching only grows the more I think about it but I can’t seem to stop. Hair is stuck to the back of my neck and the side of my face. I slick it back using my own sweat.

“I… can’t…” I manage to get out in breathless gasps.

“Yes you can,” he murmurs, “look at me, focus on me.”

I do.

“Yes you can,” he repeats, his voice strong, confident full of faith. Faith for me.

I close my eyes and attempt to slow my rapid breathing. I feel his fingers around my wrist, squeezing a little to check my pulse. He is warm against my cool skin. I reach for his hand with my other one and guide it slowly to my chest. I want to feel his hand on my heart. I want him as close as possible. His hand is on me with my hand pressed firmly against it. I open my eyes and stare at him, wondering if he could read my pleading eyes as well as I could read his compassionate ones. Mellow grey stares back at me in understanding. He keeps his hand on my heart.

“Don’t let go,” I whisper, “please.”

“I’m not letting go,” he murmurs back, “don’t worry, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

In and out. In and out. In and out. I try to calm myself. It’s not like I’ve ever faced something like this before, I’d just never faced it in someone’s presence. The fear of him seeing me in this state of vulnerability, stripped of my many masks that tell the world I am okay when I’m not, that made it all worse.

But with some time, that could’ve been two minutes of two hours, my breathing slows, becomes more regulated. Things begin to calm down. I’m no longer sweating uncontrollably though my body is still wet. My shaking hands grow stiller by the second as I fiddle with the ring on my middle finger. Finally my heart rate begins to go down. I hear it less in my ears and feel it less in my chest. But it’s still there.

Grayson’s hand has still not left my heart, just like I asked. Gently I place my hand on his, and guide it back to his lap, letting him silently know he’d done his job. I take a hair tie and throw my hair up into an abomination on my head that I’m too tired to care about.

Grayson’s features have twisted into a way that almost makes him look worried. His eyes are larger than usual, his pupils dilated, swallowing up the comforting concrete grey. His eyes brows are pinched inwards slightly, only just and his lips are parted as if he wants to ask a question but can’t find the words. I want to pretend this look is real, I want to pretend he’ll still want me even after seeing me in my state, I want to pretend that this time it’s different. But I can’t afford to pretend anymore.

“Better?” he asks quietly, after a long period of silence.

“Better,” I rasp, my voice so hoarse it’s unfamiliar to me.

I rest my head back and close my eyes. Breathing in and out normally feels like a luxury now. I’m suddenly more grateful than I’ve even been for a steady flow of air to my lungs. Once I’m completely back to normal I make eye contact with Grayson. His face is difficult to read.

“What happened back there?” he asks me quietly, almost looking guilty for the question.

“What do you mean?” I reply, confused. Hadn’t he been there, hadn’t he seen?

“Why did you start to panic,” he clarifies, “what did I do to set it off?”

I want to shoot the conversation down there and then. Absolutely not. I am not ready to tell him anything, I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to look at me different because of it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly, averting my eyes.

“Of course it does,” he presses further, “sweetheart I love you and-

Oh those three words. How the act as another knife to my chest every time. I love you is not meant for girls like me, I love you is meant for people who are worthy and special, I love you has never once been said to me with any true meaning behind it.

“Stop,” I snap, the word louder and harsher than I intended. It silently echoes through the empty space and takes a moment to sink in.

“What?” he asks after a few beats, confusion distorting his features.

“Just stop that,” I almost yell, as I go to get up, “stop doing that.”

“What am I doing?” he asks quickly.

“You’re lying to me,” I say, my voice wavering when I really didn’t want it to.

“What?”

“Every time you say those stupid words and I can’t afford to believe them,” I exclaim, welling up with this sudden surge of emotion.

“Slow down sweetheart,” he says slowly, “what are you talking about?”

“I know you don’t love me,” I shout. I’m exhausted. Exhausted of living this lie and now I’m at my breaking point and I can’t afford to continue. There are too many lies, in my head, in my heart, in my life. This one I want to be rid of.

“What?”

“I know it so you can stop pretending I matter, that I mean something to you,” I sob.

Great. Now I’m crying again. Again. Pouring out my weaknesses for him to see. I’ve never felt so unbelievably helpless.

“What are you talking about? Of course I love you,” he says it as of I’ve said something stupid or in gibberish.

Of course. Why of course? It isn’t obvious and I’m not an idiot. I’m stood here crying and he has the audacity to tell me this. I look him dead in the eye, my vision blurred a little due to the heaviness of my heart.

“No one can love me.” My voice is low and laced with the agony I’m so desperately trying to conceal.

“Who told you that?” he asks.

How did he know? How could he see through my mask so easily? Was it cracked, had it slipped or was it just all transparent now?

“I didn’t need to be told, it’s just how I am,” I spit back, hoping my bitterness might deter him.

“No,” Grayson replies, his voice so sharp it cut dangerously through the air like a knife.

“What?”

“No, that’s not how you are,” he says, “because I love you.”

He digs a finger into his chest in attempts to prove his point, it looks hard enough to hurt but he doesn’t wince.

“Stop saying that!” I yell over him, “it makes it more painful, every time you say it, it’s like a stab in the heart and I can’t take it anymore.”

I expect him to get angry, to stand up and hurl insults at me. We’ve never argued before. But instead his face softens. “I’m not lying,” he tells me gently, his voice like caramel, “how could I lie?”

He’s not lying? Or at least that’s what he’s telling me. But the softness of his eyes look like he means it. No. I can’t let myself be so naive, I can’t believe everything I’m told, I’ve learnt that the hard way.

“Everyone who I’ve ever trusted has lied to me, why would that make you any different?” I ask bitterly.

“Because I do love you,” he tells me, “with all of my heart. You don’t understand what you do to me. I can’t stop thinking about you, even when you’re not around, you’re the main character of all my thoughts and dreams for that matter. Not a moment goes by without a thought involving you. You are the other half of my heart, you have it, you stole it from me the day we met. And I don’t even care because if I were to meet any thief I would choose you every time and I’m so glad you took it. I mean goddamit, you mean everything to me, everything. I would die for you without thinking twice, without even blinking,” he says, “I just wish you could see yourself how I do. And whoever made you feel this way never deserved a fraction of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your love. They truly didn’t.”

I don’t say anything for a long while. I’m too awestruck. He loves me. He really actually loves me unconditionally. He always did and I always pushed that notion away.

I’ve never said anything about my past out loud. It makes it less real, I can forget if I bury it. Except I can’t I’ve tried and tried desperately to do so but relentlessly as ever my brain has never let it go.

“My father,” I choked horsely, “my abused me physically from when I was young. I thought it was normal.”

Something twists in Grayson’s stomach, I can see it all over his face. He looks ill, all the colour has drained from his face and his eyes are sorrowful, mournful even.

“But the bruises, they were okay,” I murmur, “even the scars, I could deal with them. It was my mother who cut the deepest, without even laying a finger on me. Her words were…” I attempt to pull myself together, “…her words left scars no one will ever be able to understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words are so quiet I can barely hear him. He looks mortified.

“It’s not your fault,” is all I can reply with. There’s nothing else to say.

“No one should have to-“

“But they do,” I choke, my voice getting shaky again, “and you know what, I’m tired.”

I wish I didn’t feel this weak, this powerless. Tears start free flowing down my cheeks, uncontrollably. Salty droplets leave glistening trails on my cheeks like in some sort of abstract painting in an art museum.

“I’m tired of this pain,” I sob, “I just want it to go away, I just want to be normal.”

The pain wracks my body. Grayson takes me into his open arms and holds me to the warmth of his chest. I nuzzle into him, seeking comfort I’d never received from anyone else. I cling to him like a frightened child to their mother, my knuckles white. I’m almost scared to let go, incase that means I have to let go forever. I can hear his steady heartbeat against my ear. I sob louder, my body physically beginning to ache from the crying.

“Hey, shhhh,” he soothes, stroking a soft hand down my hair, “you’re going to get through this and I’m going to help you.”

“How?” I wail. I’m hysterical and I hate it, but it’s taken control of me now.

“We just are, I promise,” he says, so much passion, so much faith behind the words. I want to believe him but I’ve had too many promises broken.

“I thought I was getting better,” I laugh bitterly, the tears flowing thicker and faster and harder, “I thought that I was coping better with all of this and now this is just proof that I’m not.”

I get it all off of my chest, words I’ve longed to speak for so long, the ones that have been locked away and avoided. I can say them. Freely. The caged bird is remembering she has wings, remembering she could once fly.

“Listen to me,” Grayson says, his voice clear, defined, “what you’ve been through isn’t something you just get over overnight, it’s not something you can wash away.”

“Why can’t it be?” I ask, snivelling in an attempt to gulp back my tears that seemed to be endless.

“It doesn’t work that way love,” he says, his voice so soft it could melt butter but instead it melts my heart.

“But…” I trail off into more sobs. I can’t carry on. Words are not enough to describe what I’m feeling, they’re not deep enough, the they aren’t raw enough.

I sob uncontrollably feeling more humiliated by the second. Loud, ugly, horrible sobs. When things are buried you don’t realise that they’ll eventually resurface. My body jolts backwards and forwards each time I let out a cry.

He pulls me close to his chest and whispers sweet nothings to me to comfort me. He doesn’t say anything the whole time. Somehow he knows that’s what I need. He just holds me, lets me know he’s there with the melodic rise and fall of his comfortable chest. He’s so gentle, so soft, he makes me feel fragile and delicate like a sharp of glass. I cry until I’m so dehydrated that there are no tears left and I’m so exhausted that I want to pass out.

And even then he stays holding onto me, supporting my broken body. He holds me, holding all my dilapidated pieces together, keeping me from falling apart. He cradled my head in my arms and tentatively strokes my hair. I feel myself relax a little more, I feel myself shut my eyes. Suddenly I’m aware of a sensation in my chest. At first I think it’s the panic coming back to prey on me some more but the feeling is too calming. It’s spreading across the left side of my chest, tingling a little but in a ticklish manor. It’s almost a warmth.

Is this what love feels like?

I open my eyes and sit up. What am I roping him into? He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to be held back by someone like me. He could have anyone, any body in this whole world. I’m the last person he needs in his life.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say trying to pull myself free of his arms but his grip is tight, oddly reassuring. He’s not going to let me go, he’s not planning on leaving, he wants to say. To take care of me.

“Do what?” he asks, brushing some loose baby hairs out of my puffy face.

“The door is wide open, feel free to walk out on this,” I explain with an elaborate hand gesture, “you don’t have to deal with me.”

“The door is firmly bolted shut and no one will be walking out,” he tells me slowly, “you’re not a problem to be dealt with, you’re a person. A wonderful, beautiful, spectacular person, that I have the pleasure of loving.”

Tears well up in my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today, I’ve never cried so much in my life. The recurring lump in my throat makes another appearance. I don’t mean to get so emotional, but I do. I’m so used to being strong I suppose there’s only so much one person can take before they burst. I feel loved and wanted and needed and cared for, everything I’ve always wished for. Here is a man giving me all of that and more.

“And what if I don’t know how to be loved?” I whisper, fear clamouring up my throat.

“Then I’ll show you,” he whispers, pulling me closer to his chest.

“I’m going to get it wrong,” I panic, “I don’t know how to love.”

“Yes you do,” he soothes, “I know you do because I can feel it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, I hurt people when I love them,” I tell him as he gently caresses my hair, running his fingers through it.

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” he says, “look at me sweetheart, I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. Ever. We’re going to get through this together, okay?”

I nod, my heart not feeling so heavy. I lean further into Grayson and let him kiss the top of my head. The small gesture meaning mountains more because I know he loves me. And for the first time in a long time I smile, a real true smile. And it feels nice.

a/n: again, I’ve never written anything like this before so idk if it did it right 😭😭 anyways so sorry for it taking so long, hope you enjoyed

TIG masterlist

[strwberri-milk]

Can we get some soft smut with Dainsleif? Like, him and reader are just so gentle with each other. Body worship, praising each other, and generally taking care of each other.

Just…absolutely smitten for each other.

nsfw under the cut!!

Dainsleif never entertained the idea that he would ever feel anything like this for anybody. He resigned himself to protecting the crown, and then to a new mission that he holds close to his chest. The passage of time stretched endlessly in front of him and he despised it with every fibre of his being - until he met you.

Time was always slow for him, days turning into nights and an endless circle that continued it's downward descent. The years blurred together, memories all mush in his brain but somehow, being around you sped time up. He found himself now enjoying the day, planning his schedule around your smile and desires.

It took him a while to warm up to you but you never minded. You know that he's a difficult man with an even more difficult past - one you just barely started to understand. You know he appreciates the fact that you aren't pushing him to tell you everything, finding his quiet in you.

The first time the two of you have sex it's so...sweet. You never thought you could feel this loved before, even after meeting Dainsleif. He gave you everything you could ask for and more and you thought that you had it all until you hand him knelt between your legs, breath gently teasing your core as he looks up at you as though you hung the stars in the sky. Honestly, that's not even the best thing you've done for him - giving him light to his days again, that's something he'll worship your memory for for the rest of his life.

His hands treat you like you're made of glass, gently caressing kissing all over your body. You're not given room to breath, Dainsleif stealing your breath away with his lips. It's almost cruel how slow he's being but the adoration on his face makes you stop. If it makes him happy you'd give him the world no matter how much effort it took.

Your fingers curl into his hair, hips bucking into his mouth as he takes his time to savour you. His tongue runs up and down your body, lips wrapping around your most sensitive places to suckle gently. Your body tenses which each of his ministrations, trying so hard not to kick him but you're making such a mess on his face. He loves it, loves seeing how worked up he's making you. He wants you to finish on his tongue, lapping up at your essence to make sure he doesn't miss a single drop.

When he finally enters you he holds your hands tightly, keeping your gaze on his as he tells you how good you feel. Your hole clenches around him tightly, adjusting to his size as he tries not to cum immediately from the warmth wrapped around him. He peppers your neck and collar in kisses, desperately trying to hold himself back. His hips grind into you slowly, thrusts hitting you exactly where you need him. He brings you to a slow release, your body feeling all warm and tingly as he cums on you. He allows himself one act of greed here, leaning down to kiss you messily and desperately as his hips rut against your body, soaking your sex in his mess.

He holds you so tightly afterwards, showering you in praise and kisses. You've become a reason for him to stay alive - treating you like the treasure you are is the least he could do. You won't be getting out of his arms any time soon if he has anything to say about it.

[envy-of-the-apple]

alright so i've been obsessing over family man and the more i think about it the more i'm convinced that the cat is gonna come out of the bag at some point. gojo might not want reader to know about jujutsu society, but becoming MRS gojo kinda puts a giant target on her back and the back of her baby and it's unfortunate that she doesn't know it. but. reina is capable of becoming a sorcerer, right?

how do we think familyman!gojo would be like as a dad during her upbringing, especially her teen years, when kids become far more interested in asserting themselves and differentiating themselves from their parents? would he be more controlling of her and if so when? he's so lenient with kids and encouraging them to grow they way they really want to, and i think this gojo would be like that as a dad as well. except. how it could implicate his relationship with reader.

would reina become a student at the tech, or would gojo try to keep her in the dark, too? gaslight her? or maybe worse, let her in on jujutsu society and try to turn it into an 'our little secret' thing, encouraging her to keep anything like that from her mom and sort of delude her into thinking she's protecting her mom by keeping her in the dark as much as possible. (rip kiyo and unnamed grandpa you have no chance at having any serious influence over gojo reina's life now even if you did love her, god forbid satoshi's influence be allowed to surface anywhere)

what would that be like for reader to have her daughter become a sorcerer and not really know it? for gojo to put a wedge between the two of them and keep the two of them from being able to honestly communicate with each other? would he intentionally try to make it a wedge? would he want what's best for reina (having an open and honest relationship with her mom) or would securing reader's ignorance be his number one concern?

what would it be like for him to even become reina's teacher? how would that influence his relationship with her? because canon gojo, i could see him trying to be the best dad he could be no matter what blood relation, and i think out of all the yan's familyman!gojo is amongst the closest to canon gojo in terms of disposition and circumstances (which is probably why he thrills me aslkjjsa),

but. the yan factor. how would reina having more agency and being in the position she is in change everything? and also. this reader isn't dumb. prone to missing things and denial, sure, she's kinda occupied with a LOT. but. i think she'd notice if something was up with reina. she already kinda notices that something's up with gojo, especially after he's made his romantic intentions apparent.

wouldn't reina inheriting her father's cursed technique just about ruin everything for gojo? because as much as she might not want to, this reader can connect the dots.

so like...as cruel as it is to say, the only reason gojo rlly cares about reina is cuz she's ms.sawai's daughter. he kinda sees reina as an extension of miss sawai. as we saw in the fic, he kept obsessing over how similiar miss sawai and reina were. as reina gets older, their relationship with eachother will get more distant. yknow how some parents only want babies and not humans? yeahhhh thats gojo! so he's not gonna be as controlling over her as he would be on miss sawai+any kids they have together. reina gets the best scenario in this case

i think i mentioned this in another ask but reina is a sorcerer and will have ce. so yes miss sawai will also learn about curses as well as how important gojo is buuuut miss sawai isnt gonna be able to put together the dots of what rlly happened to satoshi cuz there's no real papertrail. gojo is able to keep the stuff that he wants secret, a secret.

as for reina, due to miss sawai, i dont think she'll fully become a sorcerer (aka go to jujutsu tech/learn about CE). miss sawai wants reina to live a normal happy life. buuut the same cannot be said for the children miss sawai has with gojo. even if miss sawai tries to plead the case for them to live normally, gojo+ the clan wont accept it. he's gonna consider those extensions of himself and so ya, their all gonna be sorcerers.

strangely enough, Gojo's favorite kid will be reina. again, its mainly due to him seeing her as an extension of you, but he prefers her over his biological children.

and reina wont inherit satoshi's technique cuz the technique wasnt an inherited technique! but for the sake of discussion...i still dont think miss sawai would be able to put the dots together. despite how crazy the jjk world is..how can you figure out that your now husband fell in love with you via switching bodies with your late-husband and then got so jealous he wound up killing him to take his place???

[scribblestatic]

Eyo, back on my amputee!SY agenda bullshit

Lesgo.

Prev: Part 2

---

When Luo Binghe married Shen Yuan, he was named the First Husband. But now, with his new crowning, he'll become the Empress, a position given to none of Luo Binghe's wives, not even in PIDW. Though, he's already come to terms with the fact the world isn't the same as the book.

Mostly. It's still perhaps a bit too easy for him to suggest torture for someone despite his modern world sensibilities because it's easier to think of anyone facing against his husband (AAAAAAAAAA) as some no-name NPC rather than someone with a whole life full of experiences.

But anyway, he's becoming an empress. Which is wild to him.

And it dusts up a lot of his insecurities. And not, like, the kind where someone asks their significant other if they would still love them if they were a worm. No, it's more along the lines of, "Hey, would you still love me if it turned out my soul wasn't transmigrated at all, but was simply, like, disconnected from itself and I really am Shen Jiu, but I also lived as and firmly feel like I'm Shen Yuan, but some piece of me really had done all those terrible things to make your innocent life more miserable?"

He pops the question while Binghe's combing oil through his hair, his left eye gazing anxiously at the bronze mirror to look at the demon emperor's expression.

Luo Binghe thinks, humming a little as he doesn't falter while combing his hair.

"...Would Shizun love me if I killed some of my wives?"

"Huh?"

"Would A'Yuan love me if I killed some of my wives?"

"I mean...sure? I'm sure you'd have a reason for it."

"Then, would A'Yuan hate me if I killed and ate demons in the Endless Abyss?"

"What? No. Survival was extremely difficult. You only did what you had to do."

"And if I still had a taste for demon flesh?"

Shen Yuan's face scrunches, but his response is still immediate.

"Then, I suppose we could find which ones you liked? I mean, I don't think I could do it with you, and we'd need to respect their personhood. So, maybe we could find a group where cannibalism is a norm for them? I think that'd be difficult...ah! We could also see if the Red-Dipped Manfruit could be bred to taste like the demon's flesh. Demons that eat humans use it for minor sustenance when natural human flesh isn't available, so surely--"

Ah, his expression had scrunched more with thought than disgust. Luo Binghe doesn't interrupt as he goes on his continued tangent, smiling as he listens. He only speaks again after he seems to be trailing to another subject.

"Then," he pauses, leaning forward and looking down at Shen Yuan, "if A'Yuan can love this one as I am, even at my ugliest, how could this emperor not love my A'Yuan at his most beautiful?"

Shen Yuan stares up at him, his lips slightly open as he listens, as he sees the depths of the light and love in Binghe's dark eyes.

"Even if you are Shen Jiu, back then, this disciple wanted the affection you now freely give. I have always cared for and about you, for better or worse. And your attention was always on me, for better or worse. This Binghe likes to think that, now, we care for each other, not just for the better, but for the best."

"Ah..."

Shen Yuan stares up a bit longer before he quickly turns away. Binghe puts the comb down as he hears a sniffle, and when he kneels beside his seat, he pushes the long, inky black hair away from Shen Yuan's eye, catching sight of his ruddy cheeks and the mistiness in his eye.

"...Shameless."

"Indeed, I am. A'Yuan should punish me."

He just shakes his head, and he doesn't lean away when Binghe leans forward and kisses his lips. They linger softly, pulling apart slowly as they share each other's breathes. Their faces remain too close for them to see each other properly, lips still just barely touching.

"...Then, I'll only kiss you two more times," Shen Yuan mumbles.

Luo Binghe chuckles.

"How cruel."

They only remember to get back to combing Shen Yuan's hair several minutes later.

--

The remains of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had not been invited to Shen Yuan's crowning ceremony, but they still heard of it happening regardless.

Demons, previously unaccustomed to some of the more casual aspects of living with their means more easily available, and humans, always seeking new methods of entertainment, became very entranced with the gossip surrounding Demon Emperor Luo's harem. The fact pieces of it were steadily dissolving had originally been a gripe against him, as though he was losing his touch. However, when some of the wives were members of their own race or species and they returned without harm and with a hefty sum of money, well, the bridges hadn't been burned, and suddenly, "losing his touch" simply became "being less loose" or "finding lasting love."

So now, with the crowning ceremony ramping up, of course the gossip mills were churning at rapid speeds. Eventually, word of who would become empress despite the emperor's known track record of wives was absolutely scandalous.

"His shizun, of all people?"

"The one he had imprisoned, even."

"Must've driven the man mad."

"I don't know... I saw them recently. Shen Qingqiu looked quite sane."

"He has no limbs and is missing an eye, he can't be that sane anymore."

"He certainly wasn't groveling. If anything, he seemed quite untouched. Save for...well..."

"His eye is quite sharp, and he is quick-witted. I don't think he would be bad for an empress."

"The cultivation sects are going to implode."

And, just like the news of the crowning ceremony spread around, so too did the news that Cang Qiong Mountain Sect sent a letter to Demon Emperor Luo, demanding an audience in light of his proposal to a lord from their sect.

It was, to many demons and a few humans, a wasted, and perhaps misguided, effort. Yet, they wouldn't protest against the meeting.

It would be incredibly entertaining, after all.

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3: here Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11+: links on Part 10

AO3

[shamythelazypotato]

"Overdue talk"

"C'mon, Chosen! You're missing out on the fun!" A roguish smirk appeared on those sharp features.

The Dark Lord looked intimidating, even scary at first glance, but deep down he was as naive as Chosen, following a purpose they no longer needed.

It had all been in good fun—provoking chaos, the smoke rising from the houses, how every website shut down just because they were close. It had been fun. Everything made sense back then. They were free, they were okay, they were alive... What else were they supposed to do to feel alive?

And..what was he supposed to do now?

"Chosen wait!—" it was the last thing the hollowhead heard once he shut the door of his make shift room tight, almost too tight because it almost broke.

Chosen's shaking, he slumps onto the bed, and under his body he can feel it practically boiling, getting burned with every thought, every flashback, every memory that happens before his watery eyes.

It creaks

He doesn't find comfort on that bed anymore

What was he thinking?

Walking straight to this computer for some people he doesn't know

For some kids he doesn't know

They're living their best life out there while Chosen only keeps reminding the past over and over again, he's walking in circles now, until the wooden and pixelated cubes under his feet gets black in coal.

Protect them? Guard them?

It's ridiculous

The thought is even stupid itself

They have a good life, they have shelter, food, care, joy, even friends

Friends who weren't designed to kill each other

Friends who actually talked to each other and communicated if there was a problem

Fire lights up from his tense knuckles, his hand already forming in a fist

Chosen feels his mouth and nose smoking fire

They have *everything* they could ask for

That he prayed every night to have for a long time

Same creator, different stories.

Why?

Why?

Why does that make Chosen feel *disgustingly* jealous?

Almost as much as...

The first time he actually escaped from this damn desktop

Chosen's shoulders relieve some of his tension as he looks at the floor with wide eyes

He actually did that, it wasn't intentional.

What was he doing?

He shakes his hands, his fingers stretching until the fire extinguishes from them, Chosen falls sit on the burned floor, and then–

He sighs.

It had been fun at first

Everything made sense back then.

It was easy

Want to destroy?

Destroy

Want to scream?

Scream

Want to kill?

Then kill

Oh, but never forget

Don't be weak

What else were they supposed to do to feel alive?

Chosen still remembers when he landed in that strange and unknown territory all those years ago after escaping Noogai's computer...

The first place he actually called a home of his own before everything went downhill.

//Flashback//

"We did it," the weary and exhausted voice of Chosen exclaimed in disbelief.

"We did it," Dark responds, equally tired yet overwhelmed by strange feelings, one of them called happiness and relief. A wide grin spreads across his face, and he beams as he lets out a joyful and rough chuckle. "Ha... Ha... haha! We did it, Chosen! We actually did it!" Dark exclaims in excitement, bouncing until his feet can't touch the ground, using his fire as a propeller.

Chosen can only give an acknowledging nod, his mind elsewhere, he needed a moment to process everything around him, maybe for Dark this was easier, everything was practically new for him, he has just been created hours ago—

Yet for Chosen, only knowing freedom for a few minutes and then the consuming and cruel space of a void for the following 5 years, affected his way to react at actual freedom

So there is something more huh?

Specifically the new place he finds himself in.

They landed on an open landscape, unlike the monotonous blue screen on the desktop. This place is much bigger, richer, and they are barely standing on a mass of rock rising high from the water. In the distance, they hear the faint sound of leaves rustling and wind whistling around... trees? Are those what they call trees? The towering structures form a leafy paradise with no end.

It was beautiful.

Chosen takes a small step forward, an unusual move for the brave stick figure. The delicacy of the landscape calls for gentleness, not rush.

Calloused hands touch the green grass under his bare feet. He feels the softness, the roughness—how can something so small be so many things at the same time? Does it even have a purpose? Or is it simple grass existing?

Chosen lifts his head, watching as Dark flies around happily. He has already burned some trees on his way to the sky, he actually seems to be enjoying himself... He's cackling, posing, smiling? Genuinely smiling.

Chosen wanted to see him smile like that always.

He takes a deep breath and launches himself in Dark's direction, letting out a relieved cackle.

They're free. He's free.

"Hope I never see you again, Noogai." Chosen mutters to himself as he seals that promise by flying around with Dark, spinning and feeling the breeze in his lungs and the lightness in his feet.

That memory fades into the present.

Looking at his shaky hands, lighting up fire, also retracting. Cold ice forming under his feet. He could just leave whenever he wants, why isn't he doing so? Why did he run directly here? Why is he still here? Whatever he wants, he won't get it, he—

Click.

Chosen lifts his uncertain gaze to the half-opened door, and there, just right there, was the culprit of all his problems.

Click.

Noogai knocks again.

Seems like the kids already filled him in about what's happening. They haven't talked since... well, since that cursor brought them into the computer. A polite nod doesn't count as a conversation, right?

And suddenly, a typing noise.

"Hey."

Chosen's claws grip his knees.

"I heard some noises, you okay?"

It almost feels surreal that the same person who used to torture him, enslave him, was actually trying to ask him how he is. He would be better if he had seen better days, a better life, a better creator.

"Chosen?" Noogai types again, suspended in the air as he waits for an answer.

Chosen sighs heavily, a weight seeming to settle on his shoulders as he straightens his posture with a visible effort. His hand moves to rub his face, almost as if to erase any sign of vulnerability. Great, just great, this is exactly what he didn't need right now.

The tension in his features betrays the facade of composure. With a deliberate motion, he lifts his gaze to meet Noog— Alan, Alan's cursor.

His eyes reflecting a tumult of conflicting emotions—resignation, frustration, and perhaps a hint of longing for something he can't quite grasp.

"I'm fine," he says, the words clipped, his voice strained as he tries to convey a sense of assurance that eludes him. "I just needed a moment."

Alan's concerned inquiry hangs in the air, prompting Chosen to confront the reality he's been trying to evade.

"Are you sure?" Alan's typing cuts through the silence like a knife. He doesn't dare to write even more, or even move, he knows how volatile the hollowhead can be when upset.

Silence reigns again.

Of course he's not—okay—what kind of question is that?

"I'm okay," Chosen turns his back to his creator, trying to mask the turmoil swirling within him. "Why are you here?"

"Second and the others told me you ran off here and looked—"

"So now you actually care what they think?" Chosen's eyes glance back at Alan as he tenses again. "Since when do you care? Since when do you actually care?"

At Alan's silence, Chosen minds flashes about one thing.

Alan probably didn't even know he was capable of treating another stick figure *humanely*. Probably it wasn't a realization of his own, it was a convenience he had to see it.

Then why didn't he see him back then?

Chosen acted instinctively, his whole body moving forward, using the old and only language he had ever learned.

A powerful blow was delivered straight to the surprised cursor, Chosen is breathing, fighting, spitting fire and yet, he can't find himself feeling remorseful, his crimson eyes flicker to the hole made in the door.

It seems like it's time for an overdue talk.