#that I’ve had for as long as I can remember’

[maybankswhore]

BESTFRIENDS GIRLFRIEND.

a ‘mini’ continuation of this fic here!

summary: the night at the beach seemed to be long forgotten. or that’s what you thought until a stupid treasure hunt leads you and jj sharing a place in a locked incubation device and he helps you remember where it all started.

a/n: just recently finished season four & that scene w kiara and jj gave me the perfect idea. i know it doesn’t really ‘match’ the timeline of the last one but we can all pretend that it does <3

warnings: voyeurism , , mean!jj , reader that plays naive , fingering , use of afab anatomy , mentions of cheating , heavy petting.

You should’ve known you were setting yourself up for failure. The minute you saw the slight smirk on JJ’s face the minute you offered to take Kiara’s place— you should’ve known something was going to happen.

Though , almost getting killed and getting your life saved by JJ Maybank was definitely not on your BINGO card.

Things between you and JJ hadn’t settled since that day night. If anything , it only made everything worse.

You were grateful another adventure opened up for the time being because pulling away from John B made you feel sick. You were eaten up by guilt , fear that your dirty little secret would blow up in your face and you’d have to own up to what you’ve done.

You could only imagine the devastation it’d cause John B and the disappointed looks from Kiara and Pope. The idea alone made your stomach sick.

JJ made it impossible to forget. He never brought it up. Not once. But that look in his eyes every time he looked at you made that same familiar feeling from that night on the beach wash up all over again— and you just knew.

You laid there in absolute dread in silence. Your eyes had opened before JJ’s and the immediate feeling of pure terror overcame you. Your memories washed back up and as the bends slowly faded away , the reality of the situation sunk in.

Practically quarantined with JJ , in this closed space , for twelve hours seemed like the test of a lifetime.

As he began to stir away , you swallowed harshly and scooted away. You clutched your necklace , anxiously fiddling with the string as you desperately search for nearby nurses.

“My savior.”

His voice was raspy. A hint of edge around the words as he cleared his throat roughly.

Silence filled the air pretty quickly and JJ’s mouth made a sound. He played it casual , coy like he always did. Cocking his head towards the side , he stared at you. “Ignoring me?”

Again , you decided to stay silent. Your cheek was raw with how hard you were biting it.

JJ sighed. “You know , I’ve been waiting to get you alone since that night on the beach.” He murmured. “A bit offended you actin’ like nothing happened.”

He was baiting you and you knew it. You refused to give and kept staring out the circular window.

“C’mon , Y/N. . .” JJ drug out your name barely above a whisper. You could feel him inching closer making you start to feel hot , your ears burning at the tips. “Have you fucked him yet? After me?”

His question made you flinch.

“Stop playing little miss innocent —” JJ narrowed his eyes , bringing up his index finger to your chin. Everything in you was screaming at you to not make the same mistake twice , to stand your ground , to fight him. . . but you were like putty in his hands. The minute you felt his skin on yours , you felt a fire where he touched and your head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. “I know you think about it. About me.”

JJ looked into your eyes and paused , before a wide smirk developed on his face. “You haven’t , have you?” You didn’t need to say it , it was written all over your face. You were never good at keeping secrets. You were always so easy to read.

Especially by him.

He knew you like the back of his hand. All that pining had finally paid off— in his mind.

“How come?”

“JJ stop it.” You mumbled , moving to push his hand away. But he didn’t care. Instead he turned on his side to look at you , feeling like the first time all over again.

God , he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. About you.

John B was his bestfriend , his brother , but you— he couldn’t help but be addicted to you. He couldn’t change it and he didn’t want to. He’d risk loosing it all , everything , just to have you.

“You liked it—” he taunted. “You liked it so much , that I ruined your sweet little pussy for anyone else. It only remembers me. It only wants me.”

You shivered and shook your head. “No. I—I love John B. You’re acting crazy.”

“Crazy?” JJ let out a dry laugh. “You should know just how crazy I can be , baby.”

“He’s your bestfriend , JJ.” You sighed and shook your head , pushing his hand that was starting to drift downwards away. “You know this is wrong.”

“I don’t care if it is.” JJ scoffed. “I meant what I said that night. You were supposed to be for me.”

His words made you shiver. The memories crashed onto you like waves , so vividly that you could almost feel exactly how you felt sprawled out on the sand with your legs wide open just for him.

JJ noticed your reaction and smirked. It only pushed him further. “You know it , don’t you?”

You pursed your lips. Pushing your chin up defiantly as you scooted closer to the window , putting as much space between the two of you as possible.

JJ rolled his eyes. “C’mon. You might be able to lie to yourself and lie to John B— but you can’t lie to me, baby.” He murmured softly , delicately. There was a teasing tone to his voice that irritated you because you knew he was right and you hated yourself for it.

“You’re acting crazy , JJ.” You whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed that this was all a dream— a nightmare. Though the warmth of JJ’s breath and how your heart beat so loudly you thought it’d beat out of your chest , you knew it was real. Too real.

“Maybe I’m just crazy about you.”

Suddenly everything began to feel hot. The all knowing fact that you were trapped in this stupid metal bubble , next to him , it all started feeling too much. Beads of sweat dripped down your forehead , and your hand twitched. Your chest began to rise and fall quickly and you weren’t sure what you were more bothered by.

The claustrophobic , suffocating feeling: or the thump between your thighs that you wouldn’t be able to blame on alcohol.

Light as a feather , his fingertips tapped across the smooth skin of your thigh. He watched you in satisfaction. Loving the way you responded to him despite you trying to fight it. “It’s just you and me in here , baby—” he cooed in your ear. Leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the side of your neck , making your breathing hitch. “Nobody’s gonna know.”

“I–I’ll know.” You answered softly , still refusing to look at him. You hated the way it began to hurt. How it started to burn with a certain need that only JJ could subside. Everything in your body was screaming for him. To feel him again. But your head was fighting it.

“That never stopped you before.” He quipped back.

You turned your head to look at him again. Looking into his eyes that had a certain darkness swimming inside of them. You hated it. You hated him. Most of all , you hated yourself for how badly you wanted him.

Without another thought , becoming slightly delirious and deciding to cave and give in , you rushed forward and pressed your mouth against his. On instinct , he was there. Kissing you back feverishly , gripping onto you like a man starved. He tasted of saltwater and weed , the familiar taste bringing out a soft moan from your throat.

The sound made him smirk. He liked knowing you had given in. That he got what he wanted.

And he was going to make the most of it.

His hand slipped between the two of you , immediately cupping your sex. You gasped , breaking the kiss for air. He hummed in response , rubbing soft and achingly slow circles. “Beg for it.”

“W–What?” You breathed , taken off guard.

“You heard me.” JJ said again , halting his movements. JJ gripped your chin , looking down at you. “Beg me for it.”

“JJ—”

“Beg.”

He wanted to know he had the control. The power. You knew it. As much as you wanted to deny him of it , to refuse it , you couldn’t. It ached agonizingly , just looking at him ignited something within you. Your whole body was on fire and now that it started , there was no way you would have enough willpower to put it out.

“Please. . .” you whimpered , arching your back to feel some type of friction again. JJ wanted to groan right then and there, give in to you. But he refused. He ignored the way his cock was hard and angry , rubbing against the fabric of his underwear harshly. Frowning , you grabbed onto him , fisting his shirt to bring him closer. “Please touch me , JJ. Please. I need it. I need you.”

Your words were like a song to him. He let out a groan deep within his chest and kissed you again , harder , letting his tongue slip past your lips as you gasped when his hand pushed the fabric of your tiny shorts to the side.

His index finger ran up your slit , basking in the slickness. JJ smirked down at you , cocking his head to the side. “Your pussy loves me.” He boasted , and you weren’t in a position to disagree.

“Still my dirty girl , huh?” JJ moaned , sliding his finger inside of you. He grunted as he felt your walls stretch out , the tightness of it amusing him. “I knew I ruined you for him— can’t fuck him now , huh? Too busy thinkin’ bout me?”

You only responded with a moan , throwing your head back as you felt yourself fill up.

JJ watched you with a glimmer in his eyes. He swore had had never seen something hotter. The way your eyebrows scrunched up , your lips pursed , he could your feels contracting around his finger and he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. “You want more , baby?”

“Yes , JJ , yes. Please. . .”

“Tell me your mine.” He demanded but his voice was softer now. Almost pleading.

Your mind was hazy. You almost couldn’t understand what you were saying— but you knew in this moment it was true. “I’m yours , JJ. I’m yours.”

“Fuck.” He muttered. Dropping his head to kiss your neck , he added in another finger , rutting against the side of your thigh. He pumped his fingers in and out of you , curling upwards just enough to graze over the spot you needed most.

“Yes—” you breathed. Your head lulled to the side and your toes curled. It felt good. The coolness of his metal rings that slapped against your clit each time he pumped his fingers in and out sent jolts up your spine. It felt frivolous , like you were a school girl getting fingered by her first person. But JJ knew just what to do. He knew what you liked , how to make it feel good.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” JJ said , kissing your mouth. You moaned into it , shaking underneath him as the feeling of his mouth on yours amplified the pleasure you were feeling.

The familiar feelimg began building up in your tummy and you gasped , pulling away as you used him to steady yourself. He sped up , just a little , keeping the same place as before. He cooed in your ear , kissing and sucking on different places. “Cum for me. Cum for me , give it to me.”

With your head thrown back , you felt your legs shaking. A dirty , loud moan left your mouth , one that made JJ’s ears ring. You grinded against him , riding out your high.

“My fucking girl—”

You came down breathlessly , with a new urge. You quickly attached yourself to him , wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. He kissed you back hungrily , grinding into you.

You jumped when you heard a knock on the glass.

“Sorry to um— interrupt.” The nurse cleared her throat awkwardly , looking away. “We need to check your vitals. . .”

And just like that , the weight of the world and your decisions fell back on your shoulders.

[razorblade180]

Ekko Location

Ekko:*thousand yard stare*….

Caitlyn:(Should I tell him? No, false hope doesn’t do any good. Especially in this case.) *looks left*

Giant mural of Jinx

Caitlyn:….Ekko?

Ekko:What could you possibly want after everything?

Caitlyn:Hopefully, an olive branch. I have to tell you something but you have to promise to not get your hopes up, or tell Vi. This is something I’m trusting with you specifically.

Ekko:And how in the world did I get such an honor?

Caitlyn:Because if it wasn’t for one act of kindness, I’d be in your shoes right now.

Ekko:…What do you have to tell me?

xxxxxx

One month later. Somewhere across the water, in a nice quaint land known for its view of the ocean and mountains, a cloaked girl bobs her head to music as she roams the back alleys streets without a care in her mind.

Jinx: 🎶Do you ever wanna catch me?Right now I'm feeling ignored. *turns corner*

Jinx:So can you try a little harder? I'm really getting bor-

Ekko:*cloaked* !?….

Jinx:…..(Just when I thought I’ve wrangled all the voices. This is a low blow, me.) *closes eyes* (Just gonna breathe in and-)

Ekko:*grabs her wrist*

Jinx’s eyes immediately shoot open to see him right in front of her. She starts looking back, forth, everywhere; her thoughts trying to rationalize this moment because what do you mean he’s real!?

Jinx:Y- wha- how? How!? Fuck everything else. How?

Ekko:Let’s just say someone offered me a little hope. Honestly it was more like wishful thinking.

Jinx:Ekko, that’s not a “how” at all! You left Zaun to chase wishful thinking? That’s alone is crazy, but not as crazy as you actually finding me! I could’ve gone in any direction and stopped anywhere yet somehow you’re right here searching in the correct city? Gasps Did you put something in me?!

Ekko:What? No! Jinx, we used to spend literal hours talking about all the places we wanted go; the sight ls you wanted to see. Sometimes you rambled so much I never got a word in to say mine!

Jinx:So you’re telling you just remembered all that ramble and started flying to the places I yapped about!? Who the heck remembers stuff like that!?

Ekko:Me!! Since when have I ever forgotten anything!? Especially stuff about you!?

The girl was too stunned to speak. Ekko told no lies and he had a point, however, what the hell? How was she supposed to respond to that? She told absolutely nobody that she was leaving and left no trace, yet somehow wishful thinking from probably the world’s most annoying enforcer and childhood memories was enough for Ekko to find her in a little over a month. Jinx could only squint at him in disbelief. Sure, she could definitely break free of grip and make a break for it, yet this moment only gave her the strength to exhale tiredly before him.

Jinx:Anyone else know?

Ekko:Nope. You think people have time to chase hypotheticals?

Jinx:So you just left??

Ekko:Told them I needed some air. Had to move quickly. You don’t exactly stay in one place for long.

Jinx:…..Alright. Out with it. I know you have some rehearsed lecture and rant you’ve prepared in case you actually somehow weren’t crazy and found m-

Ekko:*hugs her* I can tell at you later.

Jinx:You really just might be crazier than me.

Her entire body relaxed as she finally put her arms around him. Despite all odds, he really was right here. Leave it the Boy Savior to yet again foil her schemes.

Jinx:At this point I should call you Ekko Location or something.

Ekko:I this point, I should put a fucking bell on you.

Jinx:I’d still get away.

Ekko:And I’d find you again.

Jinx:Heh, yeah. *hugs tightly* You would, wouldn’t you?

[volatilebrat4103]

Broken cycles and fixed bonds (Part 1)

Leaning against the railing of the airship, shirt billowing in the breeze, it was calming and peaceful.  “I’m nervous” Jinx chuckled, shrinking into herself.  “There’s no need to be trinket” Y/N sends a reassuring smile to the blue haired woman.  “I know it’s been a couple of years but I’m positive your sister will be happy to see you”  she lifts a hand to caress Jinx’s cold cheek.  “You really think so toots?” Jinx leans into Y/N’s touch, savouring the feeling of her warmth.  “You’ve come a long way from where you were”  Y/N continues, pulling Jinx into her waiting arms, placing a kiss to her head as Jinx nuzzles her face into her lover’s chest. 

“I hope you’re right” Jinx’s words muffled in Y/N’s chest, savouring her warmth provided in the freezing wind.  No words are needed after, Y/N simply comforting her girlfriend as they head to Piltover. 

A lot had changed since then, since Jinx had fled the city to start over.  For one she healed, gone were the voices and hallucinations, the pain and suffering, all of it left behind.   Jinx had grown into the woman she had meant to be albeit a gruesome journey but one she took in stride. 

A lot had changed for the better, shockingly enough one of those changes were her fashion style.  Gone were the mangled scraps of clothing she wore, now she adorned a more formal style, her hair now long enough to tie back into a neat ponytail.  It was a change she hated at first but knew it was a step forward in her healing journey, as sad as it was to see her signature look go.

As the airship soared through the skies nearing the city she hadn’t seen in three years, her nerves began to bubble over, tightly clinging to Y/N’s shirt to ground herself.  Noticing the slight change in her breathing Y/N pulls Jinx further into her embrace, allowing her larger body to completely encompass the nervous woman.

After some time Y/N pulls slightly away from Jinx, her hand guiding her chin up so their gazes meet, “Everything is going to be alright, I’m right here trinket” Y/N’s voice soothing her ever so slightly, with that she leans down to capture her blue haired beauty’s lips in a soft, tender kiss, pouring her emotions into it.  Jinx can’t help but melt at the feeling, she knew Y/N was right, but she just can’t shake the feeling of uncertainty.  What is Vi didn’t want to see her?  What if she was better off without her?

Pulling away from the kiss the couple lean their foreheads together as they melt in each other’s touch.  “I can feel you overthinking” Y/N chuckles before placing a kiss to Jinx’s forehead.  “Relax love, we’re here”  with that the airship begins it’s decent to the docks of Piltover, the sight of the sprawling metropolis sent a pang of nostalgia through her.

Once the ship docked Jinx seemed to freeze, her nerves getting the better of her.  “Hey, you okay?”  Y/N’s voice just as gentle as her hands that softly trail up and down Jinx’s arms.   The blue haired girl could do nothing but nod, eyes glossing over as Y/N pulls her in.  “I’ve got you, you can do this”  her words relax the rigid and scared woman. 

Letting Jinx relax and gather her thoughts for a minute before taking her hands in her own, “Ready?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with encouragement.  “Ready as I’ll ever be” Jinx whispers with a small smile.  Grabbing their bags the two women step off the ship hand in hand and manoeuvrer into the bustling streets of Piltover.

As the pair walk through the busy streets Y/N can’t help but feel a pang in her heart, she had yet to tell Jinx of her history with the city.  A now energetic Jinx quickly let go of Y/N’s hand and makes her way over to an enforcer nearby, she was out of earshot leaving a confused Y/N in her wake however she took the time to reminisce about her past and family, wondering if they would still remember her.    

“Come on Toots, this way!”  Jinx’s excitement broke Y/N out of her trance as she is hastily dragged through the street, her brows furrowing as she recognised the familiar path, noticing it was leading her straight to the Kiramman mansion, however she says nothing, allowing her girlfriend to pull her along.

Y/N’s heart drops as they approach the front door, perhaps her family no longer resided her, left the city to live a better life.  “we’re here!” although excited Jinx’s nervousness is easily heard as she wipes her sweaty palms against her pants before knocking. 

Not even a minute later a pink haired woman with a tattoo under her eyes answers the door, her muscular body clad in an enforcer uniform.  “Ye-“ her words caught in her throat with a hitch, eyes growing wide in shock.  “Hiya sis” Jinx waves cutely whilst rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.  “J-Jinx? Is t-that really you?”  the woman’s voice wavers as tears well in her eyes.  

“It’s me sis”  Jinx whispers becoming extremely conscious of her surroundings, her heart racing in anticipation.  Slowly the woman’s hand reached out, carefully cupping Jinx’s cheek as if to confirm that she was really standing in front of her, “Are you real?” tears slip from her eyes, Jinx leans into the touch to assure her, “It’s me Vi, I’m here” with that the woman now know as Vi pulls Jinx in for a tight hug, the sisters sobbing into each other. “I thought I lost you” Vi’s voice trembling as her arms tighten around her sister.

Y/N realising that  it’s a private and delicate moment not meant for prying eyes manages to manoeuvre the sisters through the door whilst still tightly wrapped in each other’s arms.  She shuts the door and stands to the side, happy her girlfriend can finally have her happy ending. 

Once the two pull away from each other, tears still streaming down their cheeks, Jinx grabs Y/N’s hand, dragging her closer.  “Vi this is Y/N, my girlfriend and Y/N my sister, Vi” Jinx excitedly introduces the two, bouncing up and down like a toddler spiked on sugar. The woman looks strangely familiar to Vi however she can’t place from where.

Vi steps forward trying to size up the woman who is clearly taller than her and almost double her size in muscle.  “Hello, it’s finally nice to put a face to the name”  Y/N stretches out her hand with a kind smile, a hint of a British accent coming through.  Vi nods as she continues to examine the woman, the accent, her features, the way she carried herself, she looked so familiar that it intrigued Vi.

Taking the offered hand in her own, “wish I could say the same” Vi’s words hold no venom as she accepts the handshake, curiosity blazing within.  She can’t sake the feeling she has seen Y/N before.  “We have so much to catch up on” Jinx luckily saves the awkward stares shared between Vi and Y/N.  “That we do”  Vi turns to her sister with a smile, gesturing the two to follow her.  The three make their way to a small living room, green chairs surrounding a fireplace, a small table between the two. 

Vi had left and returned with a tray of tea for settling herself on the table in front of her sister leaving Y/N to take residence in the other chair as the two began to catch up.  Y/N doesn’t follow their conversation, rather she sits idly by and admires her girlfriend over the brim of her cup, Jinx turning t meet her gaze every few minutes, something Vi did not miss.

Just as they were deep in conversation Y/N’s sharp ears hear the front door open and close, footsteps leading into the house.  “I’m home my love” a familiar voice shouts through the house causing Y/N to freeze, her breathing picking up ever so slightly.

Recognising the voice Jinx smirks at her sister, the two conversing without saying a word as Jinx nudged her whilst wiggling her brows suggestively causing Vi to flush a crimson colour.  “I’m making tea, would you like some?” the same voice shouts leaving Y/N’s mind reeling.  “I’m good love” Vi responds whilst Jinx continues to tease her.  Footsteps are heard leading closer to them and entering the room, however Y/N is unable to see said intruder, sitting in the chair with the back facing the door.

“Oh I didn’t realise we had guests, my apolog- Jinx?” The familiar voice stops mid-sentence as the sisters stand up together.  “Hiya cupcake” Jinx greets with a teasing wave earning a nudge to the ribs from Vi. 

Whilst the being to converse Y/N silently hyperventilates, the voice, that oh so familiar voice paired with the house that was that was also familiar to her.  “And who else do we have here?” the voice is soft, almost as soft as how Y/N remembers.  Slowly Y/N stands up and turns around facing the one person she thought she wouldn’t ever see again.

There she stood, Caitlyn Kiramman, she still looks the same as when Y/N had last seen her albeit older now.  Caitlyn drops her tea cup in utter shock alerting everyone who worriedly looked at her, “Y-Y/N?” her voice shaking with uncertainty.  Y/N just stood there much calmer on the outside,

“Been a minute, sister”

Part 2

[imnotditzy]

Captain Marvel doesn’t know what a normal death is

(TW: mentions of death, brief mentions of murder gang violence)

No but really if you ask a street rat, literal living lighting, a bunch of ancient immortal people and a really wise king from a bajillion years ago, why would a reasonable answer be an option?

Like Billy thinks that if you’re 60 one of your feet are in the grave. Why? Because that was the life expectancy in the 50s. He's also homeless so he’s already more exposed to crime anyway, I wouldn’t doubt he thinks death by “minding someone else’s business” is common enough to be recorded as such in its own category and not murder. Also, he literally fights supervillains who try to kill him everyday? His view is skewed so much, that the damage might be irreversible. 😭

Moving on, Marvel is literally sentient magic. They can’t die, and if they can it’s not a thing that’s very easy to come by. The amount of work it takes to even do the equivalent of a paper cut is excessive, the concept of them dying would take a lot to set in. And they are a lost cause when it comes to knowing what a normal death is. The only “normal” deaths they’ve really paid attention to are the deaths of the Champions…and none of them had anything close to a normal death. (One of them literally gets hacked in two 💀)

The acronym; do I even have to explain? All of them besides Solomon, Heracles and Achilles literally haven’t died. And literally no hero in Greek mythology dies normally. Solomon is the only one who’s died of natural and normal causes, but he was alive in the BCE. That is a long time ago.

Now, Combine all of them together and what do you get? Captain Marvel: someone who does not have a correct interpretation of typical death!

This would probably concern others around them. Especially the JL, because I feel like Captain would mention this randomly.

—

(Green Lantern [Hal] and Captain Marvel were sent to investigate a crime scene together and they stumble upon the body.)

Captain Marvel: Aw…seems like their time came. (Captain’s got a sympathetic but large smile.)

Green Lantern (looking down at the stabbed body): Um, Cap?

Captain: It’s a shame. But I guess nothing could be done…

Lantern: Captain, they were stabbed???

Captain: Oh, I know. Happens to the best of people, right?

Lantern: Uh —No? Captain this is…worrying??

Captain: They’re in a better place now. Maybe.. ☺️

—

(They’re now back at the watchtower for a debrief, but it somehow turned into Batman questioning Captain Marvel.)

Batman: Captain can you explain why the body was not concerning to you?

(Batman’s staring at Captain intensely.)

Captain (confused smiling): …because there was nothing to worry about?

Batman (raising an eyebrow): Why?

Captain (hesitant): Because there’s probably not a serial killer or whatever running around? They killed an insider, it was gang violence.

Batman: How were you sure?

(Captain looks up to the side like their remembering before shrugging)

Captain: …Oh, I’ve seen similar bodies like that before.

—

(This occurrence is reason #5738 on why Captain Marvel cannot interact with civilians. But in Captain’s defense, how was Billy supposed to know lifespans updated?)

Captain Marvel (pointing at an “old” lady): Oh, she’s 62?

Citizen: Yeah?

Captain (sympathetic): Oh. It’s good she’s still on her feet though.

Citizen: What?

Captain: She’s thriving for her age, right?

Citizen: C—Captain Marvel, she’s 60 not 99. She just retired.

Captain (confused): Really? Why would they have her working so long if she’s nearing the end? (The lady turns around with this expression on her face: 😟)

Citizen: Because she wanted to?? Captain are you ageist?

Captain (never heard that word a day in his life): Uh, I don’t think so? What does that even mean??

(The media later somehow gets ahold of the footage and it becomes such a scandal it reaches the JL; Captain Marvel is then forced to have a public statement. At the giant press conference, Mary and Freddy are there standing next to him and laughing.)

Captain Marvel (whispering): Shut up, it’s not like you thought any different.

Miss Marvel (also whispering): Yeah but we’re not stupid enough to say it to their face, Captain.

Captain Marvel (still whispering): It’s not like you guys would have any less scandals than I do if you were in the media as much as I am.

Reporter (impatiently): Ahem. Marvels?

(Both siblings look like deer in headlights while Freddy laughs at them. They both apologize in unison.)

(Captain then clears their throat, they look like they’re dreading this.)

Captain Marvel: I am terribly sorry for what I said about [62yo citizen]. I hadn’t intended to be rude, but I seemed as such because I had a gap in my…

Solomon (telling him what to say): …Knowledge. I was under the assumption that the average lifespan wasn’t much longer than a person’s 60s…

Captain (repeating what Solomon’s saying): I now know that, while once true, that information is outdated.

(Billy went on for three more minutes, only stopping because the DTC got too bored and people were starting to give him funny looks.)

[bots-and-cons]

University complaining, feat Ratchet

A/N: I’ve got a lot of school stuff going on right now and for the next two weeks, but I wanted to post something, so you can read about the reader complaining to Ratchet about how uni sucks

“Hey Ratch?” you called from the couch.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to look at you, instead of his computer screen.

“Do you want to write my last two essays for me? I’ve done so many assignments in the last month that I feel like if I write one more word, I’m gonna explode” you groaned.

“I would like to help you, but I’m not really knowledgeable about your area of study. Besides, you’re the one who’s supposed to be learning the things you need in order to write those essays” Ratchet stated.

“I know, I know, but you can’t fault me for trying. The end of the semester is always super busy and I’m getting annoyed with the amount of exams and assignments” you sighed tiredly.

“You need to remember to rest too. You should take a break”

“I can’t, I have an exam tomorrow, and I need to finish this book for it” you said, raising your tablet you had the ebook on.

“You can take a half an hour break, it’s the late afternoon and you’ve been reading since you got here in the morning. You won’t retain information as well when you’re getting tired"

"I’m not even that tired, I’m more annoyed, and hungry, and my eyes kind of hurt…” you trailed off. “I see your point”

“Good, then you’re going to take a break?” Ratchet inquired.

“On one condition. You’re going to take a break too, you’ve been working since before I even came here, so you definitely need one” you noted.

Ratchet knew you had a hard time taking breaks, and you wanted to just push through it when you had to do something. So he always conceded when you made him take a break too, since that got you to take one too. You also sometimes seemed to forget that you needed to eat and drink. Or that you shouldn’t stare at screens for so long continuously.

“Fine” he rolled his optics.

“Good, now that we’re in agreement, can you take me to get some food? I’m starving”

“Of course” Ratchet smiled.

“Ah, that smile’s gonna keep me going for the rest of the day” you smirked. “And the food is gonna help with that too”

Ratchet rolled his optics with a scoff, but you could see his smile widening. The old bot wasn’t nearly as grumpy as you had thought when you’d first met him. It had been a couple of years since you and the autobots first crossed paths, but it felt like that time had gone by in the blink of an eye. You were finishing your second full year of university, and the decepticon’s activity had been on the quieter side for a few weeks now. You hoped that it would continue that way, because you would still rather be writing essays than trying to dodge decepticons. Getting to spend time with Ratchet was a bonus for hanging around the base. It was also easier for you to get your assignments done, when you had company. You could both just work on your own stuff, while still being together. It was nice. You just hoped the peaceful quiet would continue.

[sitepathos]

Hello, I’m the one that asked about the ability to see footage of the kidnapping. Do you think the megamycete could show them/transform into what y/n looked like in what were supposed to be his final moments in the cavern? If the family does not have visual representation of their neglect in the form of the footage could they get it from the megamycete?

I’ve had plenty of people ask about how the bats would react to seeing the Megamycete mimic Y/N after being beat up by the kidnappers and one or two people asking about how Jason would feel since he and Y/N are basically the same, so I thought I’d combine the Bats’ reaction plus Jason’s thoughts on this situation. Hope this makes a lot of people happy!

As the Megamycete talks to this group of misfits, informing them on how it and you had come to be joined, an idea enters its mind and it struggles to keep a smirk from appearing on its face.

They claim to feel bad for how they treated you for over ten years, so why not add to their guilt by showing them what became of you that horrible night?

A feeling of pity surges through its consciousness. Those feelings of pain were so fresh in your mind when it connected to you. Prior to meeting you, all those its roots embraced had long since passed away, their memories and experiences a mere shadow of their former selves. It was only with you that it knew what true pain could be, both physically and mental.

If there is a hell, the Megamycete sincerely hopes those three common thugs are burning in it.

While those three are no longer here for it to inflict misery upon, your “family” is right here and ripe for psychological warfare.

“Do you remember what you said that night,” it says as it closes the gap between it and Bruce, shifting its physical form.

It revels in the look of horror in Bruce’s face as he realizes what it now looks like. The Megamycete took the form of you right now, but now it resembles what you looked like that night you were tossed into its cavern like trash, complete with your torn, disheveled uniform to grievous wounds, even the angles of its limbs resembling those of your that night.

“You said that they did not have your son and that all your children were home with you.” It grabs the pitiful excuse of a man by the collar and pulls him closer so he can see the bullet wound and near-lifeless eyes that adorned your face. “You made it clear you did not see him as family.”

Bruce Wayne has the decency to look horrified, but it does not bring the Megamycete the joy it thought it would; instead, it only serves to make it angrier at the man.

He had no idea what you had to endure that horrible night. You were beaten to near-death and then disposed of like you were garbage and not a person and he has the nerve to claim to be your father.

It releases the man and faces the others.

“This is what became of him after that call,” it says, motioning to itself. “The leader beat him with a lead pipe before shooting him in the head like an animal in retaliation of the humiliation you gave him during that call. How can you claim to be his family when you are responsible for this?”

They are all horrified, but that does little to make the Megamycete feel better. In fact, it only adds fuel to its hatred towards these people.

“Do you know what his final thoughts were while he struggled with the pain and misery? He wished for death.”

The collective sigh they release echoes through the cave.

Bruce thought he’d failed you in every way possible, but this has opened his eyes to a new low he didn’t know he’d sunken to.

You never should’ve been walking around Gotham in the first place, even in broad daylight, the city’s practically a minefield. You were relying on Alfred for rides when he should’ve bought you your first car when you turned sixteen so you that you’d always have a reliable way of getting around.

Hell, he would’ve been more than happy to drive you around himself (something he should’ve been doing since you moved in).

The fact that you thought him so unreliable that you would rather brave the dangers of Crime Alley instead of calling him is nothing less depressing.

And when you finally decided to call on him to help, probably the first time you;d ever done that, and he makes it abundantly clear he didn’t see you as one of his children. He couldn’t even be bothered to listen to the whole phone call so he could track down three random men calling him for a ransom.

And to see how you were treated after that, by being beaten like an animal and shot in the head?

He failed you his firstborn, his baby boy.

Maybe he never should’ve been a father after all…

This isn’t the first time he’s failed one of his children (and probably won’t be the last), but this is definitely one of his worst failures.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry…”

Dick is fighting back tears at the sight of you bloody and beaten, your limbs twisted at angles that definitely look like they hurt.

He’s always prided himself on being the best big brother possible, always carving out time for his little brothers and sisters. No matter how busy he was juggling both Gotham and Blüdhaven, he’d always come running when one of his siblings called out for help.

But this is proof he’s not fit to be your big brother. Because if he was, he would’ve rushed out to find you, beat those three thugs to a pulp, and carried you back to the manor in his arms and never let you out of his sight again.

But no, you weren’t even an afterthought to him.

He knew that you lived in the manor, but he never stopped and thought how you were adapting to life in Gotham (he had no idea you were from Nevada before Alfred told him), nor did he even ask how you were doing after losing your mom.

He just assumed somebody had to be taking care of you, but he didn’t know Alfred was basically responsible for everything they shouldve been doing.

Everything he should’ve been doing.

Now this… thing is inside you, doing who knows what and he’s not there to help you, his baby bird.

As Jason looks upon the condition the recreation of you that night, he’s taken back to that night with Joker.

How many times had you been hit with that lead pipe to look like that?

As much as he was hit with that fucking crowbar?

More?

Shit, he’s accused Bruce of replacing him with Tim and he goes and does he the exact same thing with you!

Jason’s always thought of himself as Batman’s greatest failure, but he was actually yours. He knows Bruce is incapable of caring for himself, let alone children, but he was too blinded by his own vendetta to see you were suffering just like him.

Christ, he really is a failure.

Shit, if he had just a tiny bot of integrity, he would’ve gone out, killed those three fuckers, and taken you to one of his safe houses.

Hell, if he had just a tiny bit of integrity, he would’ve taken you out of that damn mansion when he met you and taken you with him where you’d have a somewhat normal life.

But no, he had to go and take his anger for Bruce out on you, a poor kid who lost his mom and dragged to live with an emotionally constipated vigilante, and couldn’t see that you were suffering just like him.

He really is a failure.

Tim takes note of the injuries, committing every detail to memory that will no doubt haunt him when he actually tries to sleep.

He’s always prided himself on knowing everything that goes on around him (there’s no such thing as privacy in this family), but he had no idea that you had a job, let alone had to rely on Alfred to bring you to and from your job.

Hell, he hasn’t given you a second thought since he met you.

He can still remember what it felt like being greeted by an empty house because his parents thought going to some fancy party or an overseas dig site. He’d never wish that kind of loneliness on anyone.

But he did. He wished it on you.

He took love and attention that could’ve gone to you and he couldn’t even be bothered to give you any of his attention.

When he first met you, he was surprised to hear that Bruce Wayne had a biological son, but saw nothing worth his attention. You obviously weren’t trained to be a Robin and there was nothing mysterious about you to warrant him into digging into your past.

You obviously came from outside of Gotham, raised by your mother, and now you were living in Wayne Manor because something happened to her. Pretty open and shut.

But there was more to you and he was too stupid to see it.

He could’ve been there for you, like a good brother, but no, he had to go and do to you what his parents did to him.

He’ll make it up to you.

As soon as he finds a way to get this mold out of you, he’ll spend every waking moment of every day finding out everything about you.

Steph is mortified by what you look like.

For the first time in her life, she actually has nothing to say.

She’s been told that her mouth is going to get her in trouble one day, but she never thought she’d get someone else into trouble.

She can remember mocking that guy who called them and she wonders how many hits you got because she had to go and open her mouth and say something smart.

It was bad enough that she ignored you just like them, but she had to go and say something to piss off your kidnapper and get you in trouble.

God, she really is the worst.

Cass takes in your injuries.

Your attacker was clearly guided by his anger, striking you in random areas to take his anger out and cause you pain.

She winces at the thought of you being hit by some common thug like you were some misbehaving dog.

You lacked their training, notably their resilience to torture, so you had to experience pain unlike any other you’ve experienced before.

She thought she had managed to shed her background as a living weapon and knew how to care for a family, but you were proof she would never be free of her upbringing.

If she couldn’t care for someone like you, how can she care for the rest of her family?

There are only a few times in Damian’s life that he feels like he’s failed and every time he vows to never fail again.

In the League of Assassins, failure is unacceptable and he learned to avoid it before he could talk.

Prior to coming to Gotham, he could count his failures on one hand and not use all his fingers.

But hearing you be taken from under their noses by some common thugs and beaten within an inch of your life is definitely a failure.

A massive failure. Possibly his biggest failure in his entire life.

You are his brother.

Granted you’re his older brother, but his training made him more capable of protecting you than anyone else.

But he didn’t.

He was too focused on proving himself superior to all others he never thought to see you were an opportunity for him to know something else other than combat and training and missions.

He could’ve known what it was like to be close to someone else he shares blood with. To let his guard down around another person and know unconditional love.

If he had done that when he first met you, then he would’ve known you were missing that day and made those lowlifes who thought they had the right to put their hands on their betters rue the day their mothers brought them into this world.

But no, even with his perfect memory, he forgot all about you and mocked your kidnappers just like the rest of his family.

And you paid the price for it.

To say Alfred is mortified is an understatement.

He had misgivings about being gone for so long and leaving you without proper support, but had he known something like this would’ve happened, he wouldn’t have left your side let alone the country.

It he did. And this is the result.

You were left at the mercy of criminals and when you reached out for help, this is what happened.

His poor boy…

The pain you went through…

And to wish for death at the end of it…

He never should’ve left you.

He never should’ve left…

[warlocksoup]

SLEAZE ✶⋆.˚ MIYA OSAMU

CHAPTER ONE: locked out

SOUNDTRACK: i don't know you by mannequin pussy

cw: implied ed/unhealthy relationship to food

For breakfast, she cracks an egg onto a hot pan. She ignores it, and lets it crack and bubble, turning her attention to a cold clump of white rice she pulled from the fridge. She turns on the faucet of her kitchen sink and lets the water run into the bowl before she tosses it in the microwave. Two minutes. The eggs pop and crackle in the pan.

When the microwave beeps, she grabs the bowl with her bare hands and burns them. She mumbles curses under her breath and equips herself with a dishrag before she goes at it again. Haphazardly, she slips the egg out of the pan and onto the steaming bowl of rice. She sits down at her counter, remembers that she left the stovetop on, and stands to turn it off before she gets her first bite in.

The eggs are overcooked and tough, but she likes it that way, because if the texture is too runny, it makes her think of snot, and she gets too repulsed to eat anymore. The rice is gummy and sticky. She eats about half of the egg and a quarter of the rice before she gives up, and, when she documents this failure to empty her plate, she cites her inability properly prepare food that isn’t a hot. mushy, chewy mess as the reason. She dumps the rest of it in the trash.

✶⋆.˚

She’s technically unemployed. When her mother calls her to try and rectify this, she falls back on Kenma.

“-and if you want to start auditioning again, I can call my agent friend, and we can get you set up. It’s really no trouble at all. He’d really love to see you on screen again. We all would, sweetie. It’s been so long, and you’re just so talented. Doesn’t it seem like a waste to just rot away in that apartment of yours? With the connections that you have it seems an awful shame. There are a lot of people who would kill for what you have, honey.”

There’s an unlit cigarette in her mouth. Kenma reaches out and snatches it from her mouth before she can light it. He doesn’t even look back at her as he snaps it in half.

“No, Mom, it’s okay,” she says, phone pressed between her elbow and her cheek as she shuffles to grab her pack out from her sweatshirt pocket again. “I got a lot of stuff going on with Kenma and his Bouncing Balls thing,” she pulls out the carton and flicks the lid open, “I don’t think I have the time to even prepare for an audition, and even if I wanted to,” Kenma grabs at the entire carton and forces it out of her hand. She hits his arm.

Her mother sighs wistfully on the other line. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. It’d really make me happy to see you act again.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. From his spot on his couch beside her, Kenma removes one hand from his phone to place it on her knee. “I know, Mom.”

“Just let me know. I’ve got to go now. I have a dinner with one of the producers of Ripple Effect. I know you don’t want me to, but I’ll bring your name up just in case. They’re always looking for guest stars. You never know, you might change your mind.”

“Yeah, I might,” she agrees, knowing that she won’t. She looks at Kenma, like she’s begging to be saved, but he keeps his focus on his phone, indifferent to her suffering. “Have fun at your dinner. I’ll talk to you later.”

She doesn’t wait for her mother’s response before she hangs up, but before she can press that red button, she can hear her mother’s half-hearted ‘love you,’ come through the speaker. She pockets her phone.

“It’s Bouncing Ball,” Kenma says, still not looking up from his phone.

“What?” She leans back against the arm of the couch, and kicks her legs out, so her calves are resting on Kenma’s lap. He used to push her legs off of him whenever she did this, but now it seems that it’s not worth the effort to him.

“It’s ball, not balls,” he corrects, and it occurs to her that this is far from the first time he’s had to do so. She can’t ever remember the difference. Ball or balls. Makes no difference to her. “And what are you so busy doing here that you can’t audition for anything?”  

If it weren’t for Kenma, she’d have to get a real job. But she has Kenma, so she was able to dish out enough of her child actor savings to throw at him, and he took it and made it so she gets a healthy paycheck at the end of every week. She doesn’t know how it works. Kenma’s explained it to her before, but she’s never really listened. Matters of money bore her. Most things bore her.

She likes to pretend that Kenma just likes spending time with her enough to pay her for it. It’s more interesting than being an investor or partial owner or whatever the fuck she actually is.

She gives Kenma a bright grin. “Keeping you company, of course.”

“You should get a real job, instead,” he tells her, shutting off his phone and tossing it on the couch cushion. “It’s a better way of spending your time than bothering me all day.”

“Stop pretending you don’t like me,” she tells him. Kenma’s indifference used to eat away at her. In high school, she would obsess over earning his affection, and it drove her insane that he wouldn’t give it up. She used to think she was in love with him, but it turned out she had just tied in her self-worth to his approval.

Turns out she does that kinda thing pretty often.

And anyways, Kenma’s indifference was never really indifference. He just took a few years to get used to.

“It’d be good for you,” he says. “If not for money, then just so you have something to do. Maybe just something part-time.”

Her eyes roll, almost automatically.  All anyone ever does is complain about the job they’ve got. Even if they love it. Even if they’ve dedicated their life to it. She has plenty of unread texts in her phone from Kuroo to prove it. “I’m plenty happy without one.”

Kenma makes some noise in the back of his throat that comes across as half disapproving and half disinterested. And the conversation ends there.

✶⋆.˚

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The wind is whipping her hair in her face and blocking the view of the inside of her purse as her hands frantically push aside her belongings. Her lip-gloss and pepper spray and loose coins knock together as she tries to find her keys.

But no matter how much she moves around her purse’s insides, she can’t find them. And in fact, she can picture perfectly where they are: sitting on the edge of the counter in Kenma’s kitchen, next to her stolen pack of cigarettes and a half-empty can of an energy drink.

The wind is getting colder and she’s starting to shiver under her thin jacket. Just behind the locked door, there’s a faux minx coat hanging up above her shoe rack, and she’s fantasizing about its warmth.

“Fuck,” she grumbles again, eventually moving past denial and giving up her search for her keys in favor of her phone. Kenma’s the only person she ever calls, so she’s quick to find his contact. She calls his number, and steps away from her front door, one arm pressing her phone to her ear, and the other wrapping around her center, pulling the jacket tighter to her.

The phone rings, and rings, and Kenma does not answer. She hangs up and tries to dial again but gets the same result. “Fuck, Kenma, I left your keys at my place and now I’m locked out. Call me back please.”

She hangs up, and scrolls through her notifications, hoping that there’s some text from Kenma saying he found her keys and is already on his way to bring them to her.

kodzuken has gone live!

She’s fucked.

Feeling defeated, she flops back against the door, and pouts. The solution to most of her problems. Kenma wouldn’t notice if she kicked down his door. She’s sure she could break in, if she tried hard enough. Though one of his neighbors might call the police if she tries to break a window in. And even if they didn’t, Kenma might not forgive her for that one. He’d probably give her a pay cut, if he could. Actually, she’s not sure he could, she’s not really sure how it works.

“Hey!”

She lifts her head. The Miya of Onigiri Miya is standing at the edge of the sidewalk, hands deep in his pockets. A car passes between them, and then it’s just the two of them. She swallows.  

She takes a step forward without really thinking about it. He looks cold, arms exposed by the short sleeves of his t-shirt, covered in nothing else but his store apron. He grabs at the brim of his cap, and then pulls it down firm. “Are you okay?”

✶⋆.˚

In front of her is her usual lunch, salmon onigiri, plated neatly on the counter of Onigiri Miya. She sits there, the restaurant’s only occupant, and keeps her arms by her side, staring down at the meal before her.

“Is everything okay?”

Her eyes flick up. Behind the counter, where he usually is, is the owner. The titular Miya. With the arms.

She looks back down at her plate. The idea of eating her lunchtime food at night makes her uneasy. There’s a cold plate of curry rice in her fridge she was supposed to be heating up instead. She doesn’t want to eat in front of Miya. She does usually, during lunch, but it’s different. He’s too busy then, hands full with tasks and customers, to notice her eating. Now, it’s like there’s a spotlight on her.

“I just made your usual lunch order,” Miya says, like he went too long without an answer and got nervous. He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you want, I just figured. If it’s not what you wanted, I can make you something else.”

“No,” she shakes her head, now feeling like she’s got no choice. “This is great, thanks.”

She smiles at him, and he smiles back. And he doesn’t look away as she tepidly lifts the onigiri to take a small bite out of the corner, feeling nauseous and watched as she does so.

This seems to satisfy him. “Good?” he questions.

She nods as she chews, smiling as she swallows. “Yeah, great as always,” she tells him, lying. It tastes like everything else does to her. “You make my favorite food, y’know.”

That’s at least true. It is her favorite food. She likes that he makes it, carefully, with his own hands.

He blushes at this. “Thanks. I, uh, I appreciate that.”

She’s spent a lot of time imaging him, thinking of scenarios like this one. The two of them alone, passing tension-filled words and blushing flirtations. He has been carefully constructed, pieced together in her mind.

Though, he’s not as forward as she imagined him to be, not as talkative. In her head, he is bold and gives her straightforward compliments and he fusses over her and he is smooth with his words. In her head, he feeds her with his own hands and wipes the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

But in real life, he’s reserved. Polite but not saying more than he needs to. He hasn’t professed attraction or begged her for a date or pressed her against the wall. He hasn’t done anything but give her a plate of food and a warm place to wait for Kenma.

Which isn’t as disappointing as she thought it would be. It just sort of makes her want it more.

Her phone buzzes on the countertop. She flips it over to see nothing from Kenma, but a generic ‘here’s what you missed’ Twitter notification. She hesitantly takes another bite from her meal, and it hits the pit of her stomach like a wet pile of mud.

In her seat, she feels awkward. She tries to think of something intriguing to say. Something that would make him want to see more of her. But all she can think of his how hot the lights of the store feel when he’s there, watching as she eats.

“Thanks for letting me wait here,” she says eventually. “I am sorry to keep you here past closing, though.”

Miya shrugs. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It got me out of making dinner for my brother, so it actually works out pretty great for me.”

Her phone vibrates again. Her mother this time.

Dinner went well! I got a good word in with that producer, so you might be getting a call soon!

She can’t help but make a face. She wipes it off as soon as she feels it grow.

 “Bad news from your friend?” Miya asks, reading the sourness of her expression.

“Uh, no. Just my mom,” she explains, and shifts around in her seat. “She’s trying to get me on a television show.”

Miya leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter in front of her. It makes her oddly nervous. “And it’s not going well?”

She snickers. “Actually, it’s going a little too well. I’m not really into acting. I retired when I was eight.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he tells her. “Me and my brother used to watch Family Sized with our mom every week. He had a crush on you, and he cried when you left the show.”

It’s weird for her to think that people just know. Especially him. That he can just look back at some of the worst years of her life as just as a collection of fond moments from his childhood. An hour to bond once a week with his brother and mother. To sit in front of the television and watch her suffer through her childhood.

Him, and everyone else in the goddamn country.

“Yeah, my mom too,” she says wryly. “She’s been trying to get me back in it ever since then. Unfortunately for her, I like my current job too much.”

“Yeah? What’s your current job?”

She smiles. “I’m unemployed.”

Miya laughs, dropping his head down as he chuckles, and she feels oddly proud for making him laugh. Even if it’s at her own expense. He straightens up and stands upright. “Well, if you ever do want a job, you can always try it out here.”

It’s not an invitation for late night drinks, but she takes it as an indicator that maybe he wouldn’t mind spending more time with her. She’s counting it as a win. “Yeah, if you ever want to give your customers food poisoning, I’d be a great hire.”

Another notification from her phone. This one’s from Kenma.

I sent an Uber back to your place. Just stay at my place tonight. I don’t feel great about you going back and forth this late at night.

She looks down at her barely eaten onigiri and then back up at Miya again. “Got an Uber coming my way,” she tells him. “I’ll go outside and wait for it. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“You sure you don’t need anything else?” he questions. “Do you want me to wrap up the rest of that for you so you can take it home?”

She says yes, because she thinks it would offend him if she said no. So he places the rest of it an a paper box for her and she says thank you as she takes it from him, knowing she has no intention of finishing it off.

A car pulls up to the outside of her apartment as she’s walking out the door. She turns back to Miya, and she says, “Tell your brother I’m sorry, by the way, for leaving the show and making him cry like that.”

He waves her off. “Don’t worry about him,” he tells her. “I’m hoping he’s over it, by now.”

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[lightlycareless]

I was reading your scorned ex husband stories and they made me so sad(especially the second one) then I started thinking about the twin au and like what if the twins parent trap them in a different divorced au? Lol. Naoya is still a dick obviously for splitting up twins(seriously who would do that??) but maybe not completely irredeemable for Y/N to forgive him 🥺 Hehe this is just something silly I thought up and wanted to share

Hellooooooo

Heheh this got me watching the movie again, right in the nostalgia. It had been so long since I last saw it that I actually didn't remember most of it, but I do think however: how the hell did they think that was a good idea 🤣 gee, talk about parent of the year.

Anyways, some liberties were taken to make the story work, though the premise is essentially the same.

Also, these are the works anon is referring to :) Ex-husband 1 & Ex-husband 2. Now onto the warnings:

Warnings: none major. Naoya is an a_hole, as always. Naomi and Naori are adorable, but poor kids seriously :'(.

Happy reading!!

If Naoya does this, you effectively hate him from that point forward.

It is non-negotiable, you never want to see him ever again, especially after the cruel words he used to justify the separation of his children:

“I only ever cared about Naori anyways.”

You made it your life-long purpose to keep Naomi from someone as despicable as her father—though it hurt you to do so, for it also meant you’d be away from your beloved son; just 2 years into his life… you barely got to make any memories with him before he was stripped away from your arms.

But such was the divorce agreement: the two would keep one child, and out of their lives.

Naoya remains in Kyoto with his son at the Zen’in estate, while you move back to Tokyo, close to your family but distant enough to have your own apartment. Just the two of you, the little home you always wanted.

In an unexpected turn of events, Naomi and Naori would go on completely unaware of each other until enrolling in the same elementary school.

It was almost undetectable at the beginning since Naomi now had your last name—but once teachers and students alike began to realize their physical similarities, it became impossible to ignore.

“No… we don’t look alike.” Naori would quietly complain. Out of the two, he was the least enthusiastic about this advancement, doing his best to avoid the limelight due to his reserved nature.

However, that wouldn’t mean anything to Naomi: ever the bubble one, she was nothing but to have a new best friend that looked just like her!

“We’re almost like twins!” she gasped—same hair color, eyes, height… how could they not? “I’ve always wanted a baby brother too.”

“Well, I don’t! And I could be older too, you know? Besides, why would I want a sister that’s weak and ugly…?”

Intended to hurt her, Naomi only laughed at his words, for it would take much more than that to bring her down—one could even say that the two were reflections of their respective parents in that matter: the only contrast between the two, as a matter of fact.

“That’s not true!” she happily refuted, taking hold of his hand and heading to the playground. “Now, come on! I want to go on the swings, and I need someone to push me!”

Though Naori was greatly unwilling at first, he’d soon warm up to her, mainly because she was part of the few, if not the only, kid that didn’t bother him because of his shyness; always rushing to the rescue whenever bullies began to swarm him, as well as reassure him there was nothing wrong with being the way he was.

And if that wasn’t enough, the food Naomi began to share with him (courtesy of you, after much insistence from her part) effectively validated their friendship.

“When will you ever bring him over?” you tease, it’s the happiest you’d ever seen your daughter! And for that, you couldn’t help but feel glad and obligated to repay the favor.

“I don’t know, mama. Nori-kun tells me his papa can be quite strict.”

You chuckle.

“Well, I’m sure I can convince him next time the parents have a meeting at school.”

“His papa doesn’t go to school.” Naomi frowns, her words making you sad for the poor child. “Says he’s too busy.”

“Oh, that’s awful. Well, what about the mama?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

Your heart longs to comfort him.

If they only knew…

And as time went on and their friendship flourished even more, so did their interests for one another; beyond those of their favorite colors and toys, and more into… personal grounds.

Matters that had always quietly hurt Naori one way or the other since he could remember; more so since you had been nothing but sweet and kind to a figuratively unknown kid, which highlighted the fact he never had that one thing he always wished for.

What he might never have, since his father has long given up on it, considering the way he coldly changes the subject, or completely ignores it. Naori simply… doesn’t talk about it.

Until now.

“Why don’t you have a dad?” He dares to ask; it’s no secret that the one to pick him up at school is one of his father’s many subordinates, always changing, not enough to be interesting to the other parents outside of how rich (or a jerk) he must be to have employees pick up his child.

Compared to you, always spoken of fondly for the following reasons:

If it was Valentine’s Day, you’d send Naomi with a big box of candies so she could share with all the class.

Halloween was the same, even hosting small gatherings if the children wished to celebrate in a safe environment.

If it was a classmate’s birthday, you always made sure to send them a personal gift or attend their birthday party. Your gifts might’ve put some parents to shame from time to time, but it didn’t matter, you kind of grew to be some kind of celebrity thus a few always tried to be on your good side—or Naomi’s, so to speak.

Naomi’s birthday… well, some fought to be on the guest list.

In other words,you were an amazing for both kids and parents alike, enough to inspire Naori to daydream about what it would be to have a loving mother like you—to always be at the door once it was time to leave, patiently waiting for the moment your daughter would come into view and subsequently pick her up into a tight, warm hug, followed by a kiss and wide smile as you urged Naomi to tell you all about her day.

Or more importantly, wonder if you were open to adopting him.

“Oh… that—I… don’t know!” Naomi responds truthfully. “Mama never talks about him.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Once or twice, but all she says is that I should focus on my studies!

…

But I can see how sad she gets whenever I mention him.” She continues. “Mama isn’t very good at hiding “adult talk” and neither is my auntie, so I always get to hear how lonely she is when they talk about him! … and how she should try dating other people, or whatever that means, so she wouldn’t feel like that anymore.”

“I think is when you marry someone.” Naori tries to explain, Naomi scowls out of disgust.

She doesn’t like the idea of sharing her mama with someone else, grows somewhat jealous too.

Well, maybe if it was Uncle Nanami, he’s always been nice to her and her mama. Not Geto because she plans on marrying him herself.

And she supposes her papa too… but how could someone you love make you sad?

“I don’t want her marrying anyone.” Naomi shakes her head. “She’s happy with me!”

“But don’t you wonder about your dad?” he asks. “What did he look like? How did he meet your mom?”

Or how they fell in love?

Naturally. Because just as Naori, and even after you tried your hardest to distract her from it… she too longed to have a father. Someone to play with her after finishing all her homework, put her over his shoulders and let her see the world from his height, or protect her from the monsters that lived inside the closet…

There must be an answer to both of their mysteries—people don’t simply disappear.

And such, is how they assigned themselves a new mission; a task of the upmost importance, requiring all their attention and care if they wish to uncover why they only have one parent—and who was such peculiar character.

Anything that could hint such solution is a chance they’d take, however…

To Naomi, this endeavor proved quite fruitless, for any indication of your past relationship was effectively ripped from the evidence. Quite literally: thousands and thousands of pictures cut in half, neatly removing the person that accompanied her mother—whom she assumed to be her father. And that’s without mentioning your consistent disapproval of the matter. Naomi was right where she began.

This lack of advancement both frustrated her and placed more pressure onto Naori’s efforts, which shockingly, turned to be quite more than what they bargained for. Getting results neither could’ve imagined, not even in their wildest dreams…

“Naomi-chan… I’m not sure if you’re ready to see this.” Naori would caution as he placed down a large wooden box before her, filled with his findings.

“Why? Why not, Naori-kun?” she frets, surely it couldn’t be anything too outrageous.

…Could it?

Yes, it could. And it was.

Because beyond the astonishing realization that all the pictures Naori brought were in virtually perfect shape…

The fact they both recognize the people in the photo, Naomi’s mother, wearing that same bright eyed, wide smile look on her face whenever particularly excited. Happy—alongside Naori’s father, with his usual dyed hair, ear piercings, and striking eyes…

Holding two newborn babies—named Naomi and Naori such as the inscription in the back stated, alongside their birth time and date (Naomi is older, at last is known) …

Is what truly shocked them.

…

…

…

You. Naoya.

Naomi and Naori.

Mama and papa.

A family, for all intents and purposes.

What everyone around them proclaimed: siblings.

Naomi and Naori were siblings. Twins.

“Does that mean we—”

Naori nods. If it hadn’t been obvious enough by now.

Nonetheless, as thrilling as this discovery was, for it essentially made their respective dreams come true… another question arose. One that undoubtedly could not proceed unanswered.

“Why aren’t our parents together?”

Or most importantly:

“How can we get them back together?”

“But what if they don’t want to?” Naori frets.

“I told you already! Mama looks very happy wit him, and auntie says she’s very lonely too… besides, if they get back together that means we’ll finally be a happy family! And isn’t that what you wanted?”

Naori presses his lips together, nodding.

“I want a happy family too. I’ve always wanted a papa to play with!” Naomi continues.

“And a mom to hug…” Naori adds. “What do we do?”

First…

Get them together, face to face. In other words, talk. It’s how adults always preached problems got solved.

Since you had given Naomi the impression you’re not interested in anything pertaining to Naori’s dad, she had to get creative. Force you into a position where you wouldn’t be able to ignore her as you’ve done before—and one where Naoya would inevitably have to go to school too.

It had to be a convincing excuse, and since the two were children in need of dire solutions, their innocent minds led them to the most extreme resolution yet.

“I need you to punch me.” Naomi says, determined.

“Why?!” he gasps.

“Because I need to get hurt for mama to come, and if you’re the one in trouble they’ll have to call your papa, and then, the two will be here, just as we planned!”

“Can’t we do something less dangerous…?” Naori doesn’t like the idea of getting in trouble with his strict dad, as if he weren’t insufferable enough…

“No, Naori. It must be this!”

“But I don’t want to punch you…”

“Come on, we have to do it to have a family!!” she insists. “Or do you not want mama to make you food every day? To hug you too??”

He swallows.

“I do.”

“Then do it!”

And… he does. After taking a deep breath, clenching his fist and hitting Naomi in what she could only describe the weakest punch she could’ve ever anticipated. Surely, not enough to make this case convincing.

“Naori! You have to hit harder than that!”

“I—I tried!” he cries.

“No, you didn’t!” she cries back. “You didn’t even try!”

“Ye—yes I did!” Naori frowns. “It’s not my fault I’m not as strong as you!”

“Yeah, right! You’re a boy, you’re supposed to hit harder!” Naomi adds, smirking soon after an idea crosses her mind. “… Then I guess you don’t really want a mama.”

“I do want a mom…”

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve known not to trust you with something so important anyways—” she says, words that brush each and every one of Naori’s insecurities. “You’re just as weak as everyone else says…”

With a frown on his face, and a sour tightness in his chest, little Naori quickly clenched his fist and prepared himself to prove her wrong once and for all. Show that he wanted this just as much as she did—if not more.

Naomi was trying her best to get a rise out of Naori, everything necessary to motivate a genuine hit out of him and get their plan in motion—she never meant any of those words, intended to apologize after all was said and done, though she doubted it would matter once they got what they sought after.

But it was almost comical how it happened, how he miscalculated his steps, how far his hand had to travel to hit Naomi, and how he ended up doing far more than necessary: but convincingly so, in the end. Tripping over her and sending the two tumbling down, loudly hitting the ground in such a motion that had them scraping their skin, and of course, tears following suit.

“Maaaaaaa, I want my mamaaaaa.” Naomi intuitively cried, tightly holding onto the teacher as the two were sent to the infirmary.

Naori didn’t cry much for his father, he rarely did considering his prominent absence, but just one look at his teary face and trembling lip, and it was obvious whom he sought for comfort—the same one the school somehow convinced to come along and deal with this unfortunate incident.

As well as the supposed altercation that made way for all this to happen in the first place.

“No, what do you mean a fight??” You’re the first to arrive, demanding a believable explanation from the teacher. “That’s not—that doesn’t sound like my daughter!”

“I know, I thought the same… but that’s what the kids are saying.” She explains. “That Naomi-chan was inciting Naori-kun to punch her, and that she was even saying awful things to get him to do that. I don’t know what they were doing, if they were playing a game or… I don’t know; all of it is so weird—I’m sorry.”

You sigh.

“It’s fine. There’s no need to stress when it’s already happened.” You explain. “Is the parent of the child here already?”

“Should be soon, but I don’t know if he’s actually coming, Naori’s dad isn’t quite… present.”

You frown at the name.

“Naori? Wasn’t he Naomi’s best friend?”

She nods.

“It just makes everything even more unbelievable… really, what’s gotten to them?”

You hope to figure such when speaking to the poor child your daughter allegedly antagonized, after apologizing for such behavior of course. Which you’d have to deal with after returning home—Naomi… seriously, what could’ve possibly gone through her mind to incite such act? Was she being bullied? Did Naori suddenly decide he no longer wanted to be friends with her?

And why did his name appear to be so… familiar?

You’d figure it out soon enough when entering the infirmary, quickly scanning across the room for your daughter—only to freeze upon locking into Naoya’s; a much smaller, softer version of them, that is.

“Mamaaaaa!!” Naomi quickly cries when seeing you walk past the door, rushing to your side and hugging you tightly, the adrenaline of the whole succession still vivid in her mind. “Mama, it—it hurts a lot!”

Comforting her ought to be your utmost priority, but at the sight of your estranged child, the baby you were forcibly stripped away from… you couldn’t think of anything else but pinching yourself to see if this was a dream—if he was truly there, before you: flesh and bone. After so many years of distance…!

And naturally, hug him. Keep him so, so close to you and never let go; to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart and the things you never got to do because of his undeserving, cruel father…

Who stomped past the door soon after, equally freezing when seeing his estranged child, and ex-wife after 5 years of imposed silence. Startled, as if he hadn’t been the deciding factor behind it all.

Or perhaps, the reason why Naori enrolled in this school in the first place.

“Y/N.”

“Naoya.”

Looks like there’s much to catch up to.

Obviously, part 2 is needed. Essentially where Naoya will disclose more of what the hell was going on in his mind when pulling that stunt, as well as some angst. I have to. hahaha

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little thing I wrote; I do love it when we indulge into domestic au... but not at the expense of the kids 😭😭😭 think of the children!!! lol.

Well, 0nce again, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! Now take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[twomoreseconds]

Arcane theory - The first timeline

Now this might be a bit long so please bear with me. I absolutely loved the ending of Arcane (we win jayvik nation) but there are a few aspects of it that I can’t quite wrap my head around. If anybody has a different perspective than me please do tell I’d love to hear it.

—————————————————————

Now for what I don’t quite understand (I’ve never been good with the logic of time travel)

1. What was the first timeline like? How did the story play out the first time round? Ik time doesn’t work like that and ik about the bootstrap paradox but I’m still so curious. And how did Viktor know Jayce would be the one to save him?

2. How did Viktor know that he was giving Jayce a different rune each time? Is there like some history tab in the Arcane??

—————————————————————

I’ll now try to answer these questions but again it’s all purely my speculation:

—————————————————————

1. What was the first timeline like? How did the story play out the first time round? How did Viktor know Jayce would be the one to save him?

We learn that each time Viktor ends up destroying the world he goes back in time in an attempt to stop himself. He says to Jayce “In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this (this being the fault of his ideology).” This means he is certain that Jayce is the key to stopping him.

Now as to how he knows it’s Jayce and only Jayce that can free him from his false ideas. I have two theories.

A) He’s literally gone trough ALL other possibilities.

He’s nudged all people in and around Zaun and Piltover in the direction of developing hextech and through trial and error he finds that Jayce is the one. - This has many faults and is more of an idea than a theory

B) In the first timeline that started their loop he had already met Jayce.

If he had already in some capacity come into contact with Jayce and seen his desire to prove himself, his drive and kindness. He would know that that’s the person who’s to be his conquests undoing. - This theory sounds more plausible to me and thus is what I’ll be going with

With this established we can move on to what the first time line was like.

Since Viktor wasn’t there to save his mother, Jayce grows up to be an orphan (I can’t remember anyone ever mentioning his dad). I believe he would still gravitate to becoming an inventor/ scientist, but with no funding he would probably be someone’s assistant or some such.

Viktor wouldn’t have met Jayce so early so he would still be Heimerdingers assistant. Eventually though his illness would start showing and in my mind, Viktor wouldn’t want to die without his life meaning something, without helping the people of Zaun.

I believe he would go see Singed just like he did in our timeline. Singed wouldn’t have the support from Silco like he does in our timeline since there would be no explosion in Piltover, thus no arrest of Vander, thus no death of Vander, thus no Silco leader (presumably).

This would mean that Singed would seek more drastic measures for example hextech. I believe he would have given Viktor some hextech crystals and shimmer, maybe as a part of a deal maybe out of the goodness of his own heart.

I think Viktor would start researching hextech which would perhaps catch the attention of Jayce, leading to them working together on hextech in secret.

As his illness would progress Viktor would again corrupt the core and enhance his leg. This time though since there is no funding for their illegal study there would be no Sky, meaning there would be no accident (don’t even dare to tell me it would kill Jayce I don’t want to even think about that).

If there is no accident then maybe Viktor would use the core on himself sooner. Become the machine herald as he would have no guilt (Sky) making him hold on to his humanity.

If he becomes the machine herald so soon Jayce wouldn’t have much time to talk him out of everything. Not only would there not be enough time to talk, since they met so late their connection wouldn’t quite be what it becomes in our time line.

Jayce would get pretty close though since after Viktor achieves his salvation of the human race and realizes its faults, it’s Jayce who he trusts to save everyone.

Now he would come up with the plan to inspire Jayce sooner, so he develops hextech sooner, so they meet sooner, so Jayce has more time to stop him.

This only eventually works when Ekko buys him more time, otherwise he still wouldn’t have enough time to convince Viktor. (Ekko is the goat fr)

—————————————————————

Now for with the one that makes the least amount of sense to me.

2. How did Viktor know he was giving Jayce a different rune each time?

In episode 9 we are explicitly shown and told that Viktor went and tried all kinds of different runes in hopes that one will give Jayce enough time to save him.

Let’s say he starts with rune A, it doesn’t work so when he’s in the “world rid of humanity’s imperfections” he decides to give him rune B.

Now if it doesn’t work, the Viktor in the past who meets Jayce with rune B becomes the Viktor in the present.

Only problem is new Viktor is here for the first time. He presumably doesn’t have the memories of old Viktor, so how could he know that the rune he decides to try this time isn’t one he’s already tried for example rune A.

How does he know that he’s not already in an endless cycle of going between A and B. Never even trying C.

I believe the only explanation would be that the Arcane is somehow giving him access to all his “past” memories from his past timelines.

Although time doesn’t really work like that. Time is a loop a cycle it doesn’t have an end or a beginning who’s to say that it wouldn’t give him memories of the acceleration rune working.

But I digress since I can’t think of a better solution.

—————————————————————

If anyone actually read it to the end thank you and sorry that it lowkey read more like fanfiction than a theory.

If anybody has literally any other ideas please comment I wanna hear them so bad you don’t even know.

In conclusion going by my theory Jayvik are truly meant to meet in every timeline and Viktor is the direct downfall of Vander and Vanders Zaun. (What a silly guy am I right or am I right)

[seven-thewanderer]

Okay I’ve been trying to draw this for who-knows-how-long, but I just kept forgetting I was drawing it while drawing it, and doing something else instead

But I finally doodled some lil design imaginations of Sun and Moon…

…from MASM ooh betcha didn’t see that coming it’s neither canon FNAF or SAMS

Firstly, Sun

I kinda imagine his body’s more like… a hard doll? Idk like wooden maybe? But he’s still an animatronic that’s just how his outer casing feels. He also kind of has retractable hands, so he can swap em out for different things, which I doodled some examples on the side (normal hands, feather dusters, lil grabby claw, vacuum - which the vacuum empties from his chest)

There wasn’t much I had for Sun (at least that I remember) cus I kept getting distracted the most while drawing him

Then there’s Moon

I imagine he has more of a plush feel to his body (since Moons are typically started off as the Naptime attendant on these kind of things) so his face and hands are more plushy

(So I imagine when he does his tech stuff, he has to wear tough gloves so he doesn’t tear the fabric of his hand)

(Also still animatronic, just a plush outer casing) (it’s like how I imagine Lefty’s body to be on EAPS but we’re not talking about the Security Breach Shows rn)

(Also mid-typing I decided it’d be better to imagine Moon with one of those tough… porcelyn? Faces, while the rest of him’s a plushy material)

Also, both of them have glowy forearms & waist & wrist ribbons

also, funny thing: I don’t watch MASM.

I already watch SAMS, LAES, and EAPS, and I don’t know if I could mentally handle the mentality of having to watch all of 4 daily shows instead of 3

So I only occasionally glance at MASM, and I’m slightly invested in Moon’s interest in Sun. (you got this lil gay boy, but dang are you so bad at it XD)

And also I’m pretty sure the thing that made me go back to checking on their channel was when this artist I’m subscribed to was doing voice claims for their characters of their SAMS x Dandy’s World AU, and Moon’s voice claim was the Moon from MASM, and the line of him saying “I’m gonna go bake more cookies!” In what sounded like a near-sob tone was so cute for me from the last time I had heard that Moon, so I was like “I need to know what’s going on here” XD

But yeyeye I’m just gonna leave this here

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Three: Echoes of Us

Word Count | 2.1k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | Don't want to spoil it but something more happens You awaken with a sense of determination, resolved to make the most of your day. And by “most,” you mean finding a way to know the General better.

Not in a romantic way, of course. No, he is to be nothing more than a good friend. When I become Domina, it is only practical to be close to the General of my army. Just friends, nothing more.

Yet, deep down, you know you're only deceiving yourself. You refuse to admit it, but perhaps it’s because he is the first man to truly catch your eye. He didn’t approach you with empty flattery, boasting about his victories or wealth. Instead, he was kind, thoughtful, attentive. That simple gesture—his letter and the flower—still lingered in your mind.

I must repay him in kind, you think, though your heart knows there is more to it.

“You asked for me, Father?” you say as you enter the room where the Emperor sits, surrounded by maps, documents, and the weight of his strategies.

“Oh, dearest, indeed,” he replies, his tone warm and familiar. “I am planning a hunt with the senators and the General. Knowing your fondness for the outdoors, I thought you might wish to join us.”

“Oh, I most certainly do! There are so many things I need to gather—fresh pigments for my paints, new flowers for the gardens… perhaps even a sketch or two of the countryside,” you exclaim, the excitement bubbling in your voice.

Your father chuckles at your enthusiasm but regards you carefully before continuing. “However, I’ve noticed how you seem… uneasy in Marcus’s presence. If that troubles you, feel no obligation to attend.”

“No, no, Father, I will gladly accompany you. As for the General—well, I barely know the man. But I must confess that I may have formed some unfair opinions about his character,” you say, your voice softer than intended, almost as if admitting it to yourself.

Your father tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “I most heartily hope you’ll come to tolerate him, at the very least. He is a good man, Aurelia. In truth, for a time, I even considered proposing your hand to him.”

Your heart stumbles at his confession. This changes everything. You had always assumed that your father would marry you to one of the wretched senators—a man he despised the least. But the idea of Marcus...

“What made you change your mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear prickles at the edges of your thoughts. Perhaps the General is already married. The pang of jealousy that surges surprises you—a pang for a woman you don’t even know, and for a man who was never yours.

Compose yourself, you think. You wanted to be friends, remember?

Your father’s reply is steady, tinged with quiet regret. “The General seems... indifferent to love. He’s spoken of how he would never make a woman a wife only to leave her a widow. But as a friend—” he pauses, his expression softening, almost wistful, “I admit, I would like to see Acacius know the warmth of love someday.”

He rises from his chair, stepping closer to you. Gently, he takes your hands in his, lowering his head slightly to meet your gaze.

“As I wish for you, my daughter,” he continues. “I have delayed as long as I could, hoping you would find a man who would truly capture your heart. But I fear I must soon make that decision myself. I plan to announce your betrothal before Acacius departs for his next, and last campaign, I'm afraid.”

“His last campaign?” The words escape you before you can temper the concern in your voice. His tone lightens as he mimics the General’s voice with exaggerated solemnity: “‘After this campaign, I will find a place to rest—whether in the quiet fields of the interior or the Elysian Fields with the gods!’”

“Do not trouble yourself with such matters, Vita Mea. Not for a few weeks yet. There is still much to plan—strategies to devise, funds to raise, preparations to make.”

Your father chuckles, clearly amused by his own impersonation. “He’s quite the witty man, the General. Now, off with you, Aurelia. The hunt begins before the sun reaches its peak.”

You leave the room feeling... unsteady. The idea of the General departing pulls at you more than it should.

Perhaps he is one of those men burdened by unhappiness, shaped by the unrelenting hand of war, you muse.

And then, almost involuntarily, another thought slips through: I wish I could change his mind.

Perhaps you can.

You just don’t yet know how a friend might do such a thing. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You leave in a chariot with two other maids, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You wish Vera were with you. The two of you could have spent this time gossiping about your most recent discoveries regarding the General's life. Ever since the festivities a few nights ago, she has seemed distant, as though a veil has been drawn between you two. You saw her talking to a soldier earlier, but didn't think much of it. Was she with him today? The two ladies accompanying you are much older, and though their company is pleasant enough, they would undoubtedly slow you down.

"You shall stay here as I go fetch some flowers and things to make paint. I will not go far, and you'll be more comfortable waiting here," you tell them with a casual smile. They exchange looks of mild concern but nod in silent compliance, knowing better than to question the princess's command.

As you wander deeper into the familiar fields, the calmness of the space starts to settle over you. The flowers and the gentle breeze bring a sense of peace, almost as if your mother were right there beside you. You miss her terribly in moments like this, when your thoughts wander to what advice she would have given you—especially about how to approach the General. Is it proper for a lady to speak to a man like him? Is he truly worthy of your time? Since her death, you've rarely ventured out to the fields; your father, protective as ever, hasn't allowed you the same freedoms. You can see the years catching up with him, and the thought of disappointing him is enough to keep you in line.

The flowers here remind you of the days when your mother would bring you here to gather blossoms, to paint, to breathe freely. As you step carefully through the waist-high plants, the sight of a soldier ahead catches your eye. He’s standing near one of the poisonous trees your mother once warned you about, inspecting one of the fruits.

“You shouldn’t eat that, soldier!” you call out with a playful yet firm tone. He looks up, startled, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to approach, especially not you.

But as you draw closer, you realize this isn’t just any soldier.

“General Acacius,” you bow respectfully, surprised at how much you enjoy saying his name aloud. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, not at all, Lady Aemilia,” he replies, his voice soft but careful, as if unsure whether his words are too bold. “You are always a welcome sight.”

You feel your heart flutter at the compliment, and for a moment, you forget about your awkwardness.

“You are too generous, General,” you say, averting your gaze in a subtle gesture of shyness. "I must thank you for the flowers you gave me yesterday. They helped with the pain."

A shy smile plays at his lips, and he steps closer, his movements measured as if he's unsure of the boundaries. “I’m happy I could help, my lady,” he says with a small bow. “I am here to serve you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you find your voice again. “I must also apologize for the way I’ve behaved—at the gardens, and again at the coliseum. I was not raised to treat anyone in such a manner, and I am truly sorry.”

His gaze softens, and for the first time, you see a hint of something else in his eyes—understanding.

“We can always start again, Gemma,” he says, his voice warm, offering his arm. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

You smile shyly, almost relieved, and nod as you accept his arm.

“Must I assume you were lost from my father and the senators?” you ask playfully, trying to ease the moment with a lighter question.

“Oh, not at all,” he replies, his tone light. “I was the one who got lost. They spoke of matters I have grown weary of hearing. I came back from a place where all I heard was suffering and war. I simply needed a change of scenery, something more peaceful.”

You listen intently, your heart softening. "I see. The Senate, and sometimes even my father, seem to speak only of war and conquest. I can only imagine how tedious it must be to hear the same things over and over again."

“Indeed,” he agrees, his tone thoughtful. “But tell me, Lady Aemilia, what brings you to the woods alone? You should be accompanied by at least five of your father's best men.”

You laugh softly. “I love the fields. My father never lets me come unless he’s with me, which doesn’t happen often enough.” There’s a touch of sadness in your voice, but you quickly shift to something lighter. “And, by the way, I wasn’t the one surprised by your presence. I know these corners as well as the palm of my hand,” you tease with a playful smile.

He laughs, a sound that you find endearing, and you notice how his steps slow just a little as he seems to ponder your words.

“I see, I see…” he says, avoiding your eyes now, looking instead at the ground ahead.

As you both walk, your maids come into view in the distance, talking distractedly among themselves.

How did he knew your maids were in this direction?

“You should not be walking alone, Lady Aurelia,” he says softly, his voice taking on a note of concern. Gently, he takes your hand in his, and with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, his thumb traces small circles over your palm. “I shall return to your father’s side now. Please, promise me you will be safe.”

You look up at him, heart fluttering at his words, and nod. “I promise, soldier.”

Before he leaves, you add, almost as an afterthought, “You may call me Aemilia, General.”

His posture straightens, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword as he meets your eyes. For a brief moment, there’s a warmth there, an understanding between the two of you. “And you may call me however you wish, my Lady,” he replies, with a slight bow.

You smile as he turns and walks away, his steps confident, as if he knows exactly where he’s going. But you are left standing still, with a sense that something has shifted between you—something both fragile and meaningful. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Sleep refused to find you, no matter what you tried. Every attempt to calm your mind—warm baths, reading, writing—had failed miserably. Thoughts of General Marcus Acacius consumed you, swirling endlessly. Had you been foolish to imagine his feelings extended beyond duty and respect? Could he truly not know how every fleeting touch of his lingered on your skin like a whispered secret? Frustrated and restless, you rose from your bed, determined to quiet your turmoil.

A walk shall fix the problem, you told yourself.

Donning a simple nightgown, you stepped into the dimly lit corridors of the palace. The chill of the marble floors sends a shiver through your bare feet, while the night breeze tangles your unbound hair. You don’t mind; the palace is cloaked in silence, its residents deep in slumber, save for the watchful eyes of the night guards stationed by the doors.

The gardens, bathed in pale moonlight, were your destination. As you reached a bench near the lake, you froze. Familiar eyes met yours in the half-light—his eyes. General Acacius sat there, looking as weary as you felt.

Him again?

"My lady," he said, standing quickly and bowing with graceful respect. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Shall I leave if you desire solitude?" His voice was rushed, and he looked prepared to vanish into the shadows.

"Oh, you mustn’t," you blurted, failing to suppress the desperation in your tone. "I mean—your presence is... welcome." Your cheeks burned as you fidgeted with the hem of your gown, suddenly acutely aware of how little fabric covered either of you. His tunic hung loosely over his frame, ending mid-thigh, and he shifted, seemingly just as self-conscious.

"Please, sit," he said softly, motioning to the bench beside him.

You hesitated but finally sat. The silence that followed teetered on the edge of comfort, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Every so often, your shoulders brushed, and each accidental touch sent an unwelcome thrill through you.

"I must ask—"

"What are you—"

You both started at the same time, the shared interruption prompting a sheepish laugh. He gestured for you to speak first.

"What are you doing here, General Marcus Acacius?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid your nerves would betray you.

"I... I struggle with sleep," he admitted. "The war—it clings to a man’s mind, even in peace."

"I’m sorry to hear that," you murmured. Conversation felt so much easier with others, but with him, every word felt monumental.

"And you, Serenissima Aemilia Aurelia?" His voice softened as he brushed your shoulder lightly, the touch unspoken reassurance. "What burdens your mind tonight?"

"Not something..." you began, "but someone."

His demeanor shifted, his brow furrowing as though your words had struck him. "Is it... a boy? One of the men trifling with your affections, my lady?"

Your breath hitched. You should be the one telling me.

"Excuse me?" he asked, leaning closer, clearly having heard your whispered protest.

Suddenly, emboldened by a rush of courage, you rose, facing him with defiance. Your chin lifted, and your voice rang steady. "I am the daughter of the great Emperor Antoninus Justus. I will not be treated as a mere bauble for amusement." You took a measured breath, but your resolve did not falter. "You may be the esteemed General of the Phoenix Legion, but you are still a guest in my home."

For a moment, you paused, softening your tone. "From the start, you have shown me kindness I never expected from a soldier, and I must admit..." Your voice dropped lower. "...my thoughts have been fixed upon you in a way they never have with any other man."

"My lady…" He rises, beginning to speak, but you swiftly cut him off, making him sit back. "I am not finished," you declare firmly. "I have guarded my heart, vowing never to give it to any man, for they seem to know only destruction and death," you add, your tone steady and resolute.

"However," you continued, lifting your chin again, "if your intentions are to make a fool of me, I must demand you cease at once—"

He rose so swiftly you stumbled back, but before you could register his movement, his hands were cradling your face. His lips brushed yours in a whisper of a kiss, soft and reverent. His voice trembled against your skin, more a breath than a word: "Amor mea."

The world stood still. You surrendered to the warmth of him, your hands instinctively finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. But the kiss ended all too soon, and he pulled back, wide-eyed and almost startled by his own audacity.

"Forgive me," he stammered, his voice unsteady. "I don’t know what came over me—I’ve never—"

"You silly man, come here," you interrupted, seizing the fabric of his tunic and pulling him back to you. This time, he groaned against your lips, his restraint crumbling. His hands found your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you flush against him as though afraid you’d vanish.

"We shouldn’t," he murmured against your skin, his lips tracing down to the curve of your neck. "We can’t, Aemilia."

But his actions betrayed his words as he nipped at your ear, sending a shiver through you.

"You’re the one saying this, yet here you are," you teased breathlessly, tangling your fingers in his curls. The low, defeated sound he made spurred you on, pulling him closer until it seemed nothing could separate you.

With a herculean effort, he drew away, his breathing ragged. "Carissima," he whispered, his voice pleading. "Please..."

The broken look in his eyes stung more than you cared to admit. You made a mistake. He kissed you so you would shut up. You faltered, your confidence waning. "You... you don’t want me?"

His hand shot out to grasp yours. "No, no, never think that," he said with fierce desperation. "My heart has belonged to you since the moment we met. It calls for you as the earth calls for the rain."

His words made you smile, and his answering smile was radiant. But his gaze darkened slightly as his eyes roamed your figure.

"It is not that I do not want you, Solis mea," he said, kissing the back of your hand tenderly. "It is that I want you far too much. And tonight, with so little between us..."

Your pulse quickened as his meaning sank in.

"Marcus..." you whispered, but he shook his head, cupping your face once more.

"You bring light to my darkest days, Aemilia. You bring joy where there was none. I am yours," he said simply, his forehead resting against yours. "Now and always."

And in that fragile, moonlit moment, you knew your heart was no longer your own. It belonged to him, as his belonged to you.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

If it's okay can I please ask for a yandere Poseidon with kianna

But where they're relationship but she leaves Without a Trace

And he can't find her and ends up thinking she is dead but years later he sees her again and Ragnarok but with a teenage boy that looks

exactly like him and acts like him and later on he finds out she was pregnant with his child but thought he wouldn't want her anymore

And so that is why she left Without a Trace

And he ends up meeting his son that she named Yui after her deceased sister and finds that his son loves his mother very much and is very protective of his mother and does not trust the sea tyrant

-He could only look down at his shaking hands, rage and anguish filling him as he couldn’t find you. It was like you had just vanished.

-Poseidon could recall how you had been acting a little odd the past week, asking him cryptic questions that didn’t make any sense, and he remembers brushing you off when you seemed more emotional than normal.

-How he wished he could take every instance back, how he wished he could worship you the way you deserved to be; he regretted how he treated you.

-His guards were swarming his kingdom, searching high and low for you, and with each passing day that you were not found, Poseidon grew more and more enraged at himself, feeling responsible for your disappearance.

-It was years later, almost 20, and Poseidon still looked for you, sending out patrols that had the sole purpose of finding you to return you home to him. He was a shell of himself without you, looking ragged and bitter at the world. He couldn’t bare the thought of looking at someone else who wasn’t you.

-Each day he had to ask himself why you left, did you not love him anymore? Was it something he did or said? Why did you leave?

-The day a guard ran in, saying they had found you, Poseidon had power sprinted out of his palace, rushing after the guard, even bypassing him, so he could hold you in his arms again.

-You had returned, knowing you needed to face Poseidon one day, but thankfully, your darling son, who was a mirror image of his father, was right there with you, fully prepared to protect you if need be.

-Your son was a ray of light in your life, but a mama’s boy, as he adored you and wouldn’t hesitate to throw hands to keep you safe, something he inherited from his father.

-When Poseidon skidded to a halt, looking haggard, seeing you there, looking as beautiful as the day he lost you, with a young man standing beside you, who looked exactly like him.

-Like lightning struck him, your cryptic questions all seemed to make sense- you had been pregnant and you were asking him, in a roundabout way, if he would be okay with a child, but with him brushing you off, you took it as he didn’t want a baby and you refused to give your child up, so you ran.

-Poseidon approached you as you looked concerned, seeing how terrible he looked, the bags under his eyes, how skinny he looked as you cupped his cheeks. His hands lifted to cover your own as his eyes closed, his shoulders relaxing as he sighed deeply, feeling relief for the first time in years.

-Seeing your husband in this state made you realize how much he loved you, realizing that he looked for you for all these years, not knowing that you were down on earth, raising your son, alone.

-Yui glared slightly, pushing Poseidon off you before hugging you, “Hands off my mama!” You chuckled softly, reaching up to pat his head softly, “Yui, this is your father, Poseidon.”

-Poseidon wanted to get to know his son, but the sharp look in his child’s eyes was full of nothing but distrust, as he remembers many nights where you were crying, missing Poseidon, “So? I’ve never met him before, and he made you cry!”

-You were a bit frazzled, seeing Poseidon’s desire to make up for lost years but Yui’s anger and resentment at his father for all that has happened.

-It took a while, as well as a very long, in-depth discussion, that both you and Poseidon should have communicated things better, you should have told Poseidon that you were pregnant, and Poseidon should have listened to you and paid more attention that you were upset.

-You agreed to come home, and Yui followed, but that started a new issue, as both Yui and Poseidon where fighting over you, arguing who loved you more and who gets to hug you first.

-You had to wonder what things would have been like if you had told Poseidon straight out, if you didn’t run away, and if Yui grew up with his father around.

-Perhaps time will heal things, but it might be a while as you watched the two locked up, trying to wrestle each other down, acting childish.

[cantareincminor]

Round 2: Fandom Wrapped (Writer Edition) 2024!

Thanks again to @kattyelf for the template. A blank one can be found at @twiyorbase for anyone who wants to do their own!

Detailed reflections under the cut.

This is a long, introspective post. Forgive me if I sound self-absorbed in all this reflection.

The past year has been a unique one. The last long fic I completed was more than ten years ago in the Aladdin fandom. I dabbled in shorter, more stream-of-consciousness fics after that, but hadn’t written or posted a fic since 2016. Then I got into Spy x Family in 2022, devoured tons of fics, and slowly, nervously considered writing again.

There were many reasons I stopped writing. Being busy with real life responsibilities, naturally. I got married and had kids. I had a highly stressful career. With so little time on my hands, I feared that if I tried to write after such a long hiatus, the result would be stilted and disappointing, and I would have “wasted” my precious free time feeling shittier about myself. I’ve had some version of this mindset my entire life: if I can’t do something well, then I shouldn’t bother.

I have @whateversawesome to thank for encouraging me to try my hand at writing again. After the mole hunt arc was published, an idea struck me quite suddenly—what if Yuri had died or been critically injured in Shellbury? How would Twilight deal with that guilt and how would the identity reveals unfurl in such an extreme scenario? Could Yor ever forgive him? 

For months I shied away from writing it. To do the idea justice, I knew it would have to be a long, complex fic. And I continued to have mixed feelings about my last long fic in the Aladdin fandom—regretting parts of the premise and the ship dynamics and the characterizations and just overall feeling ashamed about my writing. I didn’t want to fail—write myself into a corner and abandon the fic or something like that. Right now, on the other end, I still look back on Orpheus sometimes and wonder how the hell I managed to write it. I reread my favorite passages and wonder how I came up with those exact words.

If it may help any writers, I would be happy to share a copy of my brainstorming doc and outline of Orpheus, where I kept track of unresolved plot points, options to resolve those plot points, notes to self to go back and add foreshadowing, and calling out unexpected events in each chapter that I did not plan ahead for. It is a very long doc. But I wanted to remember everything I was thinking at the time as a gift to my future self, in case I ever attempt a big project like this again and feel paralyzed.

Orpheus allowed me to explore themes and beliefs I suppose have been marinating in my heart for years. For anyone who is still interested, below are some of my thoughts and personal experiences around the main themes.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness and redemption are always what I reach for in my serious fics. I think I fumbled it in my Aladdin fic (or didn’t really get to the redemption part), but I was able to explore it more thoroughly and with more integrity in Orpheus, with an additional decade of life experience. 

I think forgiveness is a difficult and fascinating theme to handle because it is so highly personal and often carries memories of deep hurt for ‘victims’ or shame for ‘perpetrators’. I was grateful when readers sometimes shared their personal beliefs and experiences with it in their comments. In order to treat this theme with respect, I wanted to convey that forgiveness should not come cheaply. That is not to say it’s bad to be merciful and quick to forgive—those are amazing virtues. But the act of forgiveness comes at a cost and can be incredibly painful. The cost does not simply vanish due to good feelings or an act of the will.

Someone can either withhold forgiveness and make the other person pay the cost—in Orpheus, this would have been Yor rejecting or taking revenge on Twilight and leaving him to feel horribly guilty about Yuri’s injury for the rest of his life. Or they can choose to forgive and pay the cost themselves. In my own experience it feels physically painful. It feels like extreme grief. This is what I wanted to portray, the devastation to the spirit, as well as the catharsis that can follow. Because after the cost is paid, what we gain is healing. The ability to move on and no longer feel like we’ve swallowed glass. And the mending of a relationship, if both sides are willing. In the case of Yor and Twilight, it makes their relationship even stronger, like a broken bone healing stronger than before. And it adds weight to the trials they would face together after that moment.

Forgiveness of self / Perfectionism

Of all the conflicts in the fic, “Twilight vs. himself” is the last one to be resolved. Even after the man has been forgiven by the people he loves, he still struggles not to hate himself. To find his life to hold any value outside of being a highly competent spy. I think many people go through some version of this struggle. I certainly did and still do sometimes, with regards to work and career.

I chose Orpheus as the title to illustrate the journey of someone who carries an enormous burden on their shoulders. Trying to save the person they love and having to follow a strict rule of never turning around or they will lose it all. All the while, the temptation to look back is incredibly powerful. Twilight bears the burden of WISE’s expectations as their top spy, the hero who has stopped nuclear missile launches, who will supposedly prevent the next war from breaking out. He also carries the expectations of his newfound family which call him to turn away from the ruthlessness of his mission. To look back at them, and not abandon them for the sake of world peace. And finally he carries the guilt of what happened to Yuri, and the pain of keeping all the secrets resulting from Shellbury.

In Orpheus, Twilight harbors both a very low sense of self-worth as well as a highly inflated sense of self-importance. He sees himself as a discardable tool who has done unforgivable things for his missions, with no right to love and be loved. But at the same time he sees himself as the lynchpin to maintaining the fragile geopolitical peace. Responsible for never screwing up, ever. Responsible for the fact Yuri was shot, even though he tried his best to spare him. He’s an unreliable, self-absorbed narrator, and the other characters around him also parrot his guilt back at him throughout most of the fic. Until the end, where I try to address the illusion of control and how a good portion of his guilt is unrealistic and undeserved. 

Unfortunately for many people who carry this kind of burden, no one tells us that it’s okay to turn around. That we are indeed not responsible for more than our own choices, and we certainly cannot be responsible for circumstances outside of our control. I’ve worked jobs where I’ve been asked to do the impossible. My first job out of college, the expectations were incredibly high. I got no training and was thrown into a project in a foreign language and an unfamiliar industry. I pulled so many late nights that in the second week I fainted on the way to the office. And I was told this was normal. That in order to succeed like everyone else, I would figure out a way to solve each problem thrown at me, no matter how impossible.

And what sucks is when you start succeeding. You pull off miracle after miracle and then people start expecting it of you like it’s normal. The reward for success isn’t a break. It’s more work. Harder work. And you buy into that unrealistic narrative that you should be able to do it or something must be wrong with you, you must be broken and can’t perform like you used to. And when you finally break, you get spit out and discarded like an outdated machine. They find the next, younger miracle worker to buy into the narrative.

Knowledge vs Wisdom

This is an easier one. Funny that Twilight’s agency is called WISE in canon. But what is wisdom? The ability to discern between right and wrong, to utilize knowledge effectively for the greater good, to know how to truly live life and live it well. 

Twilight strikes me as the kind of person who uses knowledge as a weapon, not too dissimilarly to Yuri who literally states “knowledge is power.” Twilight hoards knowledge like building an arsenal, so he can always be prepared for any problem. And this is how nations treat knowledge (intel) in the real world. Constantly trying to gain an information advantage on the enemy. 

But how does one know if one’s strategy to use all that knowledge is right? In Orpheus, the Ostanian state exhibits little wisdom in its pursuit of endless knowledge, experimenting on children and prisoners and animals to gain an edge over its rivals and amass more power for those at the top. At the same time the competition and backstabbing between the various arms of the state are almost childish in their motivations, the epitome of foolishness. Knowledge on its own does not build trust or confidence—but it can build hubris and confusion and distrust. 

One unexpectedly fun part of writing Orpheus was the dynamics between Garden and WISE. While there is distrust at the start, the leaders and members of both sides demonstrate wisdom in how they navigate the partnership and grant trust to each other bit by bit. And this feels very counterintuitive to spies who build careers off of lies and masks, as they find that truthfulness can unlock results so much faster than subterfuge. At least when it comes to dealing with Garden.

On a final note on this topic, I find it interesting that in canon Donovan Desmond claims it is impossible to know what other people are thinking and therefore human beings can never trust each other. And yet the highest form of knowledge (second only to knowing God), in my opinion, is to truly know another person to the depth of their soul. To know a person completely, and to trust and love them regardless. This is what all people yearn for, even people like Twilight who have made a fortress of masks around their true self. And this kind of knowledge is what requires deep wisdom to wield well.

Sigmund Authen’s gift of the Tree of Life plaque and the accompanying wisdom quote was an unexpected event I did not plan in my outline for Chapter 33. So was Barbara’s advice to Yor in Chapter 34, which I will end this long ramble with:

Before the two left, Barbara turned and patted Yor’s arm. “I know what it’s like to be married to a brilliant man, dear. Don’t feel discouraged. They don’t need their brilliance and worldly achievements so much as they need our love. I know it can be exhausting sometimes, but I’ve stuck by my Siggy this long through thick and thin. What he didn’t mention amidst all that blather about wisdom is that even wisdom isn’t the final goal of all of mankind’s striving. Love is. What is a life full of wisdom and philosophy if it doesn’t help you find love and keep it? In my simple little mind, that’s what wisdom is for. Goodnight, dear. Thank you for having us over.”

And that's a wrap for my 2024!

[lucentloo]

First Kiss

Summary: You’ve never truly thought the perfect first kissed existed after a drunken one night stand had stolen every innocence you have ever had, but Remus is here to prove what a first kiss should really be like.

Remus Lupin x Fem!reader

Wc: 1143

Content Warnings: Modern au, fem!reader, swearing, drunk sex (in the past, only mentioned not described fully), kissing, pinning, friends to lovers, Sirius and James are supportive, Lily as best friend, Peter here but not here, low standards, if I’ve missed any please let me know!

a/n: Hello lovely’s! This is Fic number three now and I can’t say my writings getting better but the more you interact the more confidence I get! I’m sorry it’s been a long time since my last Fic but life’s been hectic and I’m a slow writer so that’s on me. Either way I hope you enjoy this little Remus story today and have a wonderful weekend/week! Also not proof read so sorry for any mistakes!

When you were little you would imagine your first kiss as magical and romantic, something you would remember forever. Instead your innocence was tainted by a drunken night full of affectionless touches and meaningless words. Little you thought a prince would sweep you off your feet and steal the air from your lungs. And although the air was taken from you that night, it wasn’t quite as enjoyable as you thought.

After that one night you stopped expecting the love you read in your books or the touches you saw in the movies. Every relationship you indulged in only reinforced the obnoxiously low standards you had set for yourself. Your friends, more specifically Lily, encouraged you to find better men, to set a better standard, but you refused. You didn’t think you could find any better than you already have.

That was until you met Remus.

Him and his friends had opened a music store right next to your bookstore, and that helped boost both of your stores' activity. The boys invited you out to coffee to kinda get to know each other a bit more and you were immediately besotted with Remus. His calm nature, chocolate eyes, and even the scar on his upper lip that he got from a guy named Sniffilous, though you don't believe that that was his actual name. Remus was effortlessly kind and brilliant and knew when a joke had gone too far. He was unlike any guy you’ve met. 

You started hanging out with him more often than the rest of your friends and got extremely close. Close enough that people have begun to speculate that there was something more brewing between us. You desperately want there to be. Every time his hand grazes yours and when he whispers a joke in your ears so that only you can hear, you feel special. Like you’re worth something more than a quick fuck.

One Saturday when you were hanging out with Remus at your bookstore you asked him what his most embarrassing story was, just out of curiosity. 

Remus was fiddling with a pen when he answered. “I believe my most embarrassing story was when I believed a story my mother once told me all the way until I was fourteen.” He says quietly, not trying to break the comfortable silence around us. 

You lean forwards on your elbows that were situated on your desk. You were previously rifling through documents and files trying to find the book you were missing. “What was the story?” You ask, genuinely intrigued.

Remus hummed and rose to stand next to me and sit on my desk. “My mother once believed that there was a magical world, full of wizards and witches, and they had a whole society. She made me believe that one day I would get accepted into a school for the young witches and wizards and that I would learn every spell in the book. I only stopped believing that when I thought a teacher was a disguised troll and I got sent home. I still cringe thinking about those ten years of my life.” When Remus finishes with the story he scrunches his perfectly adorable nose so cutely that you give a little giggle. 

“Now you.” Remus gestures to me with his head.

“Me?” You ask confused.  

“Yeah, you,” He says again, “what’s your most embarrassing story?” He asks it in such an innocently mischievous way that you can’t help but chuckle and think about it. 

“I think my most embarrassing story would be my first kiss.” You blush as you answer, immediately regretting even mentioning it. However, you see the curiosity in his eyes and continue. “I was drunk and some guy who I was talking to that night brought me back to his apartment. I don’t think I have to say much more than that.” You are hard core blushing now and look back at your files. 

Remus however is looking your way with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. He hops off the desk and stands in front of you. “You're telling me that your first kiss was a drunken one night stand? That’s it?” He asks. You nod hesitantly, wondering why he looks so distraught.

“Oh baby,” He said softly and you felt your heart pick up its pace, his proximity suddenly making your knees weak. “That does not count as a first kiss.”

You look up  into his eyes that now burn with a small desire and start protesting. “But a first kiss is when you have your kiss for the first time, and I did. That counts as my first kiss-” Your cut off by soft lips gently pushing against yours. Your eyes widen in shock before a steady hand cups your cheek and you melt into the kiss. It wasn’t a quick in and out but it also wasn’t a long, heavy makeout sesh. Just a soft kiss on the lips and Remus was pulling away.

“That is a first kiss. It’s loving and soft and it was one you were fully aware of.” Remus cups the back of your neck and pulls it forwards to rest our foreheads together. “Your first kiss isn;t your first kiss until you say it is.” Remus speaks so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

You smile slightly and lean in close again, your lips making contact with his once more. This time it goes on a little longer to the point where you grip his shoulders begging for more, noises escape your lips without your permission, and when you’re finally finished you pull away gasping for air. 

Remus has a beautiful smile on his face as he looks at you. He bends his head down enough to whisper in your ear. “I really like kissing you.” You giggle and bury your face into his chest. In the distance you hear cheers and clapping and as you lift your face you see two of Remus’ close friends, James and Sirius, appearing from behind the bookcases. Your cheeks burn a deep red as you hide your face into Remus’ chest once again. 

“How long have you two been here?” Remus asks with a small sigh.

Sirius laughs and pats him on the back. “Just long enough to see the show Moons, and quite the show it was!” He teases. James elbows him in the ribs but his smile is a carbon copy of Sirius’.

As the boys divulge into endless bickering and attempt  to embarrass your poor Remus even more, you bury yourself fully into his arms. You wonder what this will mean for the future. For your relationship, and although in any other scenario you would have been nervous all you can feel is excitement. 

You thought that this would be a very good first kiss to remember.

[waitingformysandman]

Remember Me

Part 3

Summary: After years of being separated from your love, James (Bucky) Buchanan Barnes, you finally find him again. But he’s different. Too different. Not only does he forget himself but you and Steve as well. Can he get his memories back?

‼️Trigger Warnings will be noted if needed at the beginning of chapter.‼️

Triggers: reader not taking care of themselves, starving, self deprication, Steve Rodgers being an ass

Use of Y/N in this chapter. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: for anyone actually keeping up with this I’m so sorry this chapter took so long😂

“Of course you can stay with me Sargent. I’ve been waiting for you.”

He smiled that beautiful smile. The one you thought you’d never see again but were blessed to see so many times in the past hour.

“Don’t smile at me like that.” You blushed.

“Like what?” He asked. Genuinely confused as it was how he smiled at everything that made him genuinely happy.

“Like that. That smile you always do that gets us into trouble. The one you know would get us into trouble here. You know the one.”

There wasn’t a specific smile. It was just him. He was so unabashedly happy to be back in your presence no matter how little he remembered it hadn’t even occurred to him that he probably looked a little deranged.

He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. Literally.

He frowned.

You furrowed your brow from the sudden change of Bucky’s emotions.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He whispered so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. It didn’t help that he was looking at the ground.

“I don’t remember the last time I smiled.”

He looked up at you again, eyes watering.

You tentatively reached around his waist with one arm before reaching around with the other. Just in case.

He stood rigidly. His arms to his sides and breathing heavily. You pressed your whole body to him hoping your closeness would ease his tension like it used to. But it didn’t. Instead, it made everything worse.

With his one arm he wrenched you away from himself and his once gorgeous blue eyes were now steel. He wasn’t there anymore. He almost looked like him. The one that haunted your dreams now. The Winter Soldier. But he wasn’t. The Soldier wasn’t quite there. But he was there enough.

“Leave.”

Your head snapped up. Unsure you heard him correctly you asked him to repeat himself.

“I said leave. Stop waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.”

You gaped at him. Everything was ok. He was fine a minute ago. You were fixing your relationship, getting to know each other again. It was wonderful. But now.

You weren’t sure if you were going to be able to have a relationship if it was going to be like this every time you got close to him. It wouldn’t work. In no reality would that work.

“B-Bucky?” you stuttered

“I SAID GET OUT!”

He shoved you away and took hold of your wrist leading you out of the hut and quite literally threw you out.

You landed on your hands and knees with tears in your eyes.

Steve didn’t see much but he saw you get thrown out. He ran as fast as he could to get to you.

“Hey. What happened? You alright?”

You slowly got to your knees and looked at your hands. You started picking out the gravel that had embedded itself in your palms.

You slowly and calmly looked Steve directly in the eyes.

“He’s gone Steve. There isn’t anything we can do.”

Steve flinched.

“What are you talking about ‘He’s gone’? What’s going on? Y/N what happened in there!”

You got up off your knees and found Shuri near the edge of the lake.

“Thank you for all your help Shuri. I know you’ve done everything you can. But I think it’s too late. He’s gone.”

And that’s when you broke down. You couldn’t fight the tears.

You found Steve beside you and buried yourself in his chest. If Bucky wouldn’t hold you at least you knew your friend would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 Weeks Later

Steve was never good at speaking to women. Saying hello in and of itself was a general hardship for him.

Except for you. Since Bucky had found you all those years ago you and Steve had become good friends. Steve was grateful for that.

Steve couldn’t talk to women. But he could talk to you. You weren’t just a woman. You were his best friend and his other best friend’s…girlfriend? Fiancé?

Whatever you were to Bucky he wasn’t quite sure. But you were important enough that he had bought you a ring and you had worn it. Even after thinking he had been dead for 70 years.

He wasn’t sure if Bucky was still there anymore. If anything that had happened in Wakanda was anything to go by. Steve would bring him back though. For you.

As he wandered the halls of the Avenger’s compound alone with his thoughts Steve decided to try to visit you again. Even though you probably wouldn’t see him.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone. He hadn’t seen you leave your room or even order anything to your room. He had asked FRIDAY if you had been at least eating but you had instructed FRIDAY not to tell anyone and that “If it’s Blondie asking, tell him I’ll eat when I feel like it.”

He’d been getting that same message for months. He hoped you were still alive at this point.

Steve stopped at your door and took a breath before knocking.

Knock knock knock.

He waited a minute.

He was greeted with the deafening silence of the empty compound.

But he soon heard a rustling coming from the other side of the door. And then the sound of feet shuffling closer and closer to the door until it slowly creaked the tiniest bit open.

He was shocked. You looked awful.

“Hey Steve.”

That was it. 2 weeks of silence, not knowing if you were taking care of yourself, if you were dead and all he got was ‘Hey Steve’? Nope not ok.

“‘Hey Steve?’ That’s it? Really Y/N? That’s all I get? HEY FUCKING STEVE?!”

You flinched. You knew you deserved it. Hiding in your room for the past 2 weeks. He tried to help you. You just wanted to die.

“Yeah. Just hey Steve.”

You started to shut the door but he smashed his hand between the door and the jamb before you could close it all the way and he forced the door completely open.

You couldn’t wither away and lose a grotesque amount of weight like an average person as a super soldier. But you still managed to somehow look like it.

You motioned to the box by the couch in the living room.

“They sent me his things the day after we got back. Well, his backpack and the clothes on his back.”

Steve looked at you warily. It explained the slight look of insanity. You missed him. Too much.

You wished it was him in your room. Not a box of clothes and backpack of memories.

He needed the backpack. Wherever he was.

“You should go Steve.”

“What do you mean I should go? You need help! A therapist. Something!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered “it’s not proper.”

“THIS IS THE 1940’s Y/N! BUCKY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE HERE FOR IT TO BE ‘PROPER’. AND GUESS WHAT? YOU WEREN’T EVEN MARRIED! HE HADN’T EVEN PROPOSED YET SO IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN PROPER ANYWAY!”

You knew he was right. You mentally rolled your eyes. He was always right.

“Ya know what? Fine. Sit here and wallow in your pain and his bloodied tattered clothes and books of faded memories. It’s not going to help bring him back!”

And with those last stinging words Steve left. Making sure to slam the door behind him like the dramatic ass he is.

[idontplaytrack]

Anyone character you want x reader

Reader is having a rough time at home(which happens often but isn’t constant) and is struggling with a pile up of school work so they really don’t want to be home for thanksgiving break

(I need comfort please fluff)

(Reader can regress if you feel like that’s the vibe)

(I feel bleh and need fictional character love)

Everything I Wanted

Jos Cleary-Lopez x fem! reader

Warnings: age regression, messy home life, angst, fluff

As long as I'm here

no one can hurt you

You shoved as much as you could into your backpack and quickly left while your parents were busy in the kitchen. Busy arguing. Fighting the urge to give in to the tears, you stumbled out of the house before they could stop you. You briskly walked away your street then stopped at a light, feeling your phone in the pocket of your jeans. You looked both ways before you crossed the street, just like you knew to do. To be safe. Then, you stopped again, trying to remember where to go. Trying to remember how to get there. Jos had taught you how to get to her house, you just needed to calmly think and reach her before someone at home realises you were gone.

“After crossing the street, walk to the end and you’ll see the playground. Then, you’ll turn this way to your right.”

Or was it the left?

No, it was your right. Yeah, you were sure.

“Cross the street again, and walk to the end. You’ll see my house.”

You wiped your clammy hands on your jeans and pressed the doorbell. You waited for a little bit, then someone opened the door for you. “Can I come in?” You asked quietly. “Of course you can.” He quickly stepped aside to let you enter. Mumbling a quick thank-you, Jos’ voice was what you heard first when you walked in. She was helping her mom in the kitchen until she saw you. Then, she came up to you to greet you, before Rob could ask you anything. Luckily. “Hi, babe. You okay?”

The nervous look on your face returned, it was like she’d just asked you the toughest question you’ve ever heard. Like you were back on the streets several minutes ago trying to figure out how to get to her house.

“No…?” You managed.

Jos quickly excused herself from the living area and took you to her room with the door closed. She took your backpack from you and put it on her bed, the weight of it told her that something was going on at home. Jos hugs you without being asked, rubbing your back and kissing you on the cheek. “You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not.” You mumbled.

“And that’s alright, too. But you’re safe here, y/n.” She assured, “I promise.”

“Okay.” You answered and broke away from the hug to sit down on her bed. Nervously, you picked at your nails, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“You hungry?”

You shook your head, avoiding her eyes. She squatted down and then wound up kneeling before you so that she could see your eyes. “Baby.” She held onto your hands, brushing over your knuckles.

You shook your head more vigorously, like you were trying to get rid of the tears forming in your eyes. What eventually came out was a whine, then you just burst into tears. And it was unlike you to do that, unless…unless you were regressed. Jos knew your triggers. Very clearly. Usually, there was this one thing that made you slip into this headspace. “Come here.” She whispered, “C’mere, baby.” Jos helped you into her lap, where she cradled you while you cried. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.” She said every now and then, rubbing your back as she rocked you a little bit.

“I don’t like —” You hiccuped, “I don’t like home.”

“You can stay here.” She stroked your cheek, “You can stay here, alright? You don’t have to go home.”

“Alwight.” You sniffled, replying shakily. “I sorry.”

Jos picks up on little things like these, your sentences getting less and less well-strung together, the way you pronounced some words. That’s the way she figures out how she should take care of you. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not?” You sniffed, choking on a sob.

“It’s not.” She repeated.

You stopped crying after a few minutes, trying to calm down your breathing. Jos was knowingly rubbing your back, repeating words of assurances to you while you stayed mostly silent— other than the occasional sniffling.

“Hey.” She says, breaking the silence, a hand on your cheek, “I got you something that I think you might like.”

You didn’t say anything, just looked at her for a second, curious. “I got you a few things.” She smiled, “Colouring books, and a new stuffy.”

The corners of your lips finally tug into a smile.

“You want me to go get them?” She asked. You nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay.” She mirrors your smile, “Sit right here and wait for me. I’ll just be a second.” Jos walked over to her desk, pulling open a drawer to retrieve the two books and the box of crayons. Then, she picked up the new stuffed toy from her desk chair.

“It’s a peanut.” You giggled, laying on your stomach while you waited.

“It is.” She chuckled, handing the stuffed toy to you.

“Thank you.” You grinned, she sat down next to you, laying the two books on the floor— one Paw Patrol and the other, Bluey. You opened up the box of crayons in anticipation. “Wanna colour?”

“Mhm, yes please.”

“Which one, baby?” She nudged. You immediately went for the Bluey book grabbed a crayon to start colouring, Jos took a crayon too, then began to colour the fence on the colour page.

“You like the peanut?” She asks.

“I doooo.” You giggled, thoroughly amused before you poked the toy, “It looks silly.”

Jos smiled, ruffling with your hair, “It does, huh? Ooh, that looks really nice.”

“Thank you.” You quiet down, softly replying.

“D’you wanna eat dinner downstairs?”

You usually didn’t if her siblings were home. You didn’t want to be seen by them when you were regressed. Her parents though, you were okay with it because you knew that they understood. It was just harder to explain to Izzie, but especially Matt.

“I’ll bring it up for you, baby.” She held your face by the chin and squished your cheeks, making you give her a cheeky smile that she loved so much. You nodded, then you both resumed colouring until Margot came up to tell Jos that dinner was ready. She said hi to you, and you just waved. She knew.

“Can you help me?” You spoke up, “I bring my school homework.”

“Of course, lovey. Not now, though. Let’s just play for now, how about that?”

You hummed, giving her a quick nod and swiftly returning to your fun task instead of worrying about what would make you feel more upset.

Jos joined her family downstairs for dinner, but not before she got you completely settled down and made sure you were going to be okay. “Okay.” She kissed the top of your head, “All good?”

You nodded happily. She’d helped you set up this little foldable bed table so you could properly sit and eat— not forgetting the iPad so you could watch your cartoons at the same time.

“I’ll be right downstairs, but I won’t be too long, okay, baby?”

Dinner went by in the blink of an eye, with you being engrossed in whatever was playing on your iPad, you had no trouble eating.

“Alrighty, ready for bed? Wanna snuggle?”

You chuckled, “Yeah.”

“Gonna bring this downstairs, one second. You wanna pick out which friend you wanna cuddle with tonight?”

“Okay.” You walked over to a chest and opened it while she left the room to bring your plate and cutlery to the kitchen.

After picking out a stuffed toy for the night, you were laying in the middle of her bed, staring at the ceiling while you patiently waited for her to come back. “Let’s brush our teeth, sweetie.” You got up and followed her into the bathroom next to her room. The bedtime routine took place in silence, then you were in her arms again and the chosen toy was squished between you and her. You didn’t mind it though, you were happy to be held like this by Jos. She really cared about you.

The next day, you and Jos stayed home from school. The both of you did everything together: from making breakfast to playing dress up. Jos made sure you didn’t have a single thing to worry about, like always. When you were with her, the world as you knew it, ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered more to her than seeing your joy. Nothing else mattered more to her than letting you know you were loved, so loved.

Here she looked at you, watching your favourite cartoon on her iPad, not a care in the world. She smiled, stroking your head. You glanced at her for a moment, “What?” You asked innocently.

“Nothing, baby. Just…happy to see you.” Jos smiled at the end of her sentence.

You chuckled softly, mirroring her smile.

“Never lose that smile of yours, y/n.” Jos licked her lips, scooting closer to the space next to you. You reflexively snuggled up with her, she just wrapped her arms around you instantly. “Oh, I love you so much, sweetie.”

You said back with a grin, “I love you too, Josie.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

Here you go, anon! Sorry it took awhile, tried to get it done asap🥲