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keikikait · 10 months ago

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ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ (ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: gojo x f!reader (not au, gojo is 29, reader is early-mid 20’s)

word count: 2.6k

summary: you always wanted to be a teacher, even after discovering the jujutsu world. after graduating from kyoto jujutsu high, you decided to make your dreams a reality and teach at the sister school, tokyo jujutsu high. the only downside (and secret upside), is your teaching mentor, satoru gojo. what started as a few flirtatious glances turned into a full-blown relationship situationship. you were his, and he was yours, until he goes on a date.

warnings: (FOR THIS PART) angst?, plot with basically no porn (i’m sorry), gojo is kind of an asshole & a tease, implied dom!gojo and sub!reader, nickname use [baby, pretty girl], no use of y/n

a note: been sitting on this bad boy for a while and decided to finish it. more parts to come (eventually). also, the comment about flirty baristas is just for fluff, baristas don’t flirt with customers (source: i am one). also also, they say tokyo jujutsu high is on the outskirts of tokyo, but i wanted everything to be inside of tokyo so i just kinda guessed, whoops.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You were just his teaching assistant. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

Secretly, you were his. After long hours, he would find solace in your arms as you lay in bed together.

You weren’t dating by any means, although you wanted to. You understood why, it wouldn’t be a good look for you or Gojo if the higher-ups found out about you, but you both had an understanding. You were exclusive, just not publicly. You followed his rules, turning down dates and avoiding the flirtatious gazes of baristas or waiters.

You thought he would follow his own rules, too.

It was supposed to be a fun trip; a peaceful eight days of relaxing in Nikko before returning to school after the winter break ended. In reality, it was a week and some change stuck in a log cabin hunched over a desk grading papers, freezing from the cold. The gender-segregated cabins didn’t help. It was too cold to venture into Nikko during the day, a thick layer of snow covering the ground at all times no matter how much was shoveled. It was also, as Gojo had pointed out the day before making the trip, suspicious for the two of you to venture into the city alone. It was twice as hard to be away from him at night, you had gotten so accustomed to sleeping in his arms and hearing his soft snores in your ear. You were lonely.

You could see him, though. The men’s cabin was bigger and had a massive irori in the middle that heated the entire place. You sat with him as you graded and planned lessons, and his teasing touches left you aching. You were going on 8 days without his dick, and you were dying.

As you sit hunched over the desk, trying to make out what Yuji had written on his worksheet, Shoko bounds up to the table, sliding into a chair opposite Gojo.

“Hey, Gojo,” she says. “Are you going to the winter festival when we get back?”

You tried not to react. You had begged him to go with you, but he always gave you the same excuse; it was suspicious.

He stretches his legs out a bit and smirks. “I was planning on stopping by. Why?”

Shoko smiles. “I have this friend, Himiko. She’s new to the city and was looking for a date for the festival. I’ve been telling her all about you, I honestly think you would be an amazing match. What do you say?”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. Although you and Gojo had agreed to stay exclusive, you couldn’t ignore that he was Satoru Gojo. Everyone wanted him.

Gojo chuckles a little, adjusting his mask. “Sure. I don’t see why not. Is she cute?”

Shoko leans over the table and shows him Himiko’s social media while you keep your head down, staring at the pile of worksheets in front of you.

You keep grading, trying to focus on your work and not the feeling of your heart tearing in two. Gojo continues laughing and talking to Shoko, their conversation drowned out by your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You wish you could ignore your jealousy, but it’s hard to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine at the thought of Gojo finding someone else, especially if he could go public with them.

You know his reputation; the ladies' man, the bachelor. The guy no one can catch. But you know the real Gojo, the one that stays over at your small apartment even though he has his own, bigger place. The one that cuddles you every morning and whines when you try to get up and get ready.

You don’t know this Gojo. You felt like strangers.

For the rest of the day, you kept to yourself, grading papers and reading books to try to drown out the thoughts. He isn’t even looking at you when you leave the men’s cabin and head back to your own. You and the rest of the staff leave Nikko tonight, and you have one more day of freedom back in Tokyo before the new term begins.

You pack up your stuff and wait outside the bus, shoving your suitcase into the undercarriage. A headcount is done before you all start piling onto the bus. You sit in the back, pressed up against the frost-covered window. Headphones in and music blaring, you only look up from your phone when you feel someone warm sit next to you.

You’re a little surprised when you look up to see Gojo getting comfortable next to you. He didn’t sit next to you on the ride to Nikko, he sat up at the front with Shoko and Akari, claiming it would be suspicious if you sat together. He leans closer, so close that you can almost feel his breath on your neck. Then he grabs your arm, moving your headphones out of your ear.

“Don’t wear these in public,” he says in a low voice, “Someone might grab you from behind and pull you into the crowd.” He leans into you and whispers, “I almost missed you sitting back here.”

You should be mad, but you can’t be. His smell fills your nostrils and you feel yourself succumbing to him. You smile softly. “You didn’t, though.”

"I didn't." He leans back and sighs, resting his hands behind his head and stretching his arms out. You enjoy the warmth coming from him, the way it spreads through you. "What do you want to do when we get back home? We can head out to a bar and grab a drink. Or we could go get some ramen from that place you like. Or we can just go back to your place and we can spend some…quality time together.”

You bite your lip a little. You’re normally a little feral when it comes to Gojo, but going without his touch for eight days has almost sent you into a frenzy. “I like the sound of that last one…”

Gojo laughs and squeezes your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. "And how bad do you want it?" He leans in closer until his face is inches away from yours. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in the air. "How badly do you miss me, baby?"

You can hardly think straight. Your mind is telling you to push him off, to stay upset with him for accepting that date with Shoko’s friend, whatever her name was. But your heart, and more importantly your pussy, is telling you differently.

Your mouth feels like cotton, but you manage to say, “So badly, Gojo. I’ve been aching without you. These past eight days have been driving me crazy.”

Gojo chuckles and traces your chin with his fingers, leaning even closer as his face towers over yours. "You missed me, huh? My pretty girl didn’t do so good without me, did she?" He strokes your cheek gently, smiling as you lean into his touch, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. "Say it. Tell me what you've been wanting to tell me for the last eight days, what you didn't want to say in front of everyone."

The bus suddenly lurches and you remember where you are, on a cramped bus surrounded by your coworkers. You look around, nervous, hoping nobody caught you guys.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Gojo asks. He grabs your chin and turns you to face him. “Look at me.”

You do, nodding softly. You can’t see his eyes, but you can still feel him staring into your soul. “I am looking.”

“Then answer my question.” He says, dragging his thumb across your lips. You can hardly think straight already being this close to him, but the feeling of his thumb on your mouth is mind-numbing.

“I missed you,” you whimper. It’s been a long eight days since you last felt his touch, since you last felt his breath on your skin. As he continues to stroke your lip with his thumb, you feel your mind melt away into a puddle. His touch is like a drug, and you’re desperate to not end this feeling.

“I know you have.” He coos, moving his hand down as someone up by the front gets up from their seat to change positions. He waits until they sit down before speaking again, “I’ve missed you too.”

You sink further into the seat, hoping no one looks towards the back. The bus ride isn’t super long, only about two and a half hours. Maybe no one would think to check on you two until you made it back to Tokyo.

He reaches over and turns your face towards him again. “But that’s not all, is it?” His thumb glides across your neck, his eyes under his mask flicking between your own and your lips. You can’t look away. You don’t want to. “What else have you been thinking about?”

You gulp, your mouth dry. "It's been so hard without you. It's hard to fall asleep...and I've barely gotten any sleep here because I stay up all night thinking about you."

"You have?" His eyes search your face as his thumb strokes the length of your neck. "I haven't had the best sleep either. I kept thinking about you, about how much I missed you. Thinking about all of the things I wanted to do to you when I got back." He takes a deep breath, his eyes flicking to your lips, his breath coming out in hot puffs of air. "You make it so hard for me to have self-control. Do you know how hard it is to jerk off with Masamichi and Kiyotaka nearby?"

You nod, understanding him completely. You had tried to touch yourself, too, hoping that your fingers would feel the same but it felt weird to do it with Shoko and Akari in the same cabin. “I know. I haven’t cum since we left Tokyo.”

He hears the soft whine in your voice and grins. "You’re so tempting," His breath washes over you as he whispers those words in your ear. His hands trail from your neck to your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jawline. "Do you know what I want to do with you when we get to your place? What I'm thinking about doing to you right now?"

The bus takes a sharp turn going down the mountain and it snaps both of you back to reality for a second.

You notice his hands still on you. Gojo notices too and grins, removing his hands with a sigh. He leans back into the seat. "Sorry," he says, running his hands through his hair. "I was a little carried away there." He chuckles. "We have a while before the bus arrives. I think maybe I should go to the front before I do anything stupid."

You go to protest but he’s already gone, striding to the front of the bus effortlessly as it rocks side to side, plopping himself next to Akari. You sit there, your body still feeling the heat of his hands, his words still ringing in your ears. You sink deeper into the seat as you try to calm down. You watch him for a while, seeing how he talks and laughs with Akari and Shoko and the way he never glances back toward you.

You feel like a stranger to him, yet he’s the one who’s supposed to be yours. You were supposed to be together, even though your situation is less than ideal. The bus rocks back and forth, its engines humming quietly. You lean your head back against the seat, letting out a deep sigh. Your mind races, wondering how Gojo acts when you're not around. Did he only accept this date with Himiko to make Shoko happy? Why wasn't it ever you that made him happy?

You sniffle, blinking away the tears as you pull down the food tray and prop your phone up. You put on your favourite movie, hoping the familiar faces of the characters will distract you until you reach Tokyo. Occasionally you look up at him, hoping you’ll catch his eye before he goes back to his conversation but you don’t. He doesn’t look at you once.

The movie sucks you in like it has many times before. You don’t notice how fast time is moving, silver-tipped mountains giving way to serene towns and stretched farmland. It’s late, almost 1 am, and as soon as you feel yourself starting to fall asleep you feel the bus stop and hear the driver announce your arrival, right in front of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

You look over to see him already heading off of the bus with Shoko and Akari, heading in the direction of Kabukicho, laughing about an inside joke you’ll never be a part of. You grab your bag from the undercarriage and head to the train to head back to your apartment in Taito-Ku.

The train is packed full of tired salarymen and high school students, none of whom bother you. Your thoughts drift to Gojo as the train shakes and shudders its way back home. When the train finally reaches Taito-Ku’s station, you exit the train and head down the stairs, stepping out into the frozen city. You walk to your apartment and head inside, shutting the door to your small, solitary room.

You lie awake, hoping he’ll call you, or even show up at your front door drunk. It wouldn’t be the first time. The minutes turn into hours, your eyes shifting rapidly as you glance between your phone and the door. You start to wonder if he’s thinking about you as much as you’re thinking about him right now. And what he’s thinking. You glance at your clock. 2:57 AM.

You shouldn’t feel disappointed, but you do. He could’ve at least texted you and told you he would be out with his friends for the night instead of being curled up with you watching a cooking show. You’re his, but you’re not his girlfriend. He has no obligation to do anything with you, really, but you wish he would. You wish he cared enough to want to.

Your eyes glance back toward your phone and you hesitate. You mumble a curt fuck before picking it up and calling him. The phone is ice cold against your cheek as it rings. You wonder what your contact name is on his phone. Your name? Your name and a heart? Or is it just your number, unsaved?

He answers and you can hear faint music in the background. “Hey, baby.”

You smile a little, biting your lip. “Hi. I just wanted to see if you were coming over tonight.”

You hear him groan a little, but you don’t know if it’s out of annoyance with you or how late it is. “Yeah, I was planning on it. But uh, Shoko brought her friend tonight, Himiko. The one I’m going to the festival with.”

You nearly choke on your spit. The way he was so casual about his date with Himiko made you feel sick. “Oh, did she?”

“Yeah, baby. How are you though-” His words are interrupted by a female voice in the background begging for him to come back inside. “Uh, listen, I gotta go. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okay, I-” The call ends, your phone beeping at you as he hangs up. You set your phone aside, face down, as you lay back on your bed.

You feel ashamed as you cry. Gojo isn’t your boyfriend, and he has a reputation to uphold with his colleagues. You should be fine with it, but you aren’t, and it kills you. You bury your face in your pillow as you sob, hoping one day you and Gojo can stop being strangers.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

#keikiwrites #gojo x reader #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #f!reader #✿: gojo!

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markrosewater · 4 months ago

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Hey, Mark, I'm not to make another UB-related request. This isn't coming from an anti-UB place, and it's just one Goose's opinion, but I'm sure there are others who feel this way.

Can we get rid of flavor words, please? I haven't seen a single upside to them presented, just downsides:

For decades, one of MtG's biggest strengths was capturing the ludonarrative. Having to spell it out makes it seem like you all have lost confidence in your ability to make card design that makes sense with the captured flavor.

If a design is intended to be funny (the Street Fighter cards come to mind), it feels like you're pointing at the "joke" and saying "See? Please laugh." As a person who has a comedy background, I'm sure you understand why killing the frog is bad.

Death of the epithet: The most minor of the criticisms, but I really think "Ian Chester, Science Teacher" reads better than "Ian Chester" and then calling his ability "science teacher." (I may be mixing up the WHO teachers, but this applies to both, luckily.) Epithets also make it easier to depict multiple "moments" of a character without giving a card up as the "definitive" version of that character.

It feels like you don't trust players to get why the card text is what it is. Telling your audience you don't expect them to be smart (or rather, literate) enough to "get" it doesn't really help. I've seen people say they add flavor to the cards, but the flavor isn't diminished by removing the flavor words (flavor is when things are fleshed out and living, not when things are spelled out). If it's for fans of the IP, then they already get it (Oh, the activated ability that grants flying is referencing this character's rocket propulsion). Non-fans of the IP aren't benefited either, as they will sus out said character has rocket propulsion or be left completely in the dark (see Cult of Skaro: These words do nothing to tell me about the ability. If you were to leave them out, I'd still be able to sus out that each ability corresponds to one of the four Daleks depicted).

Lastly, they make cards harder to read. When trying to grok a card, there should be as few words as possible I'm supposed to ignore.

I understand some people will go "I recognize the thing" and a bulb in their brain will light up, but something being easy like this doesn't mean it's better or that we actually like it more.

I guess there's the potential upside that you could slot in numerals to power up my Baron von Count deck, but I don't see any real tangible upside to them. Obviously I'm missing something. Can you say what it is?

(Also, even if you don't answer it,thank you for taking the time to answer this book of an ask. These are feelings I've been sitting on since AFR and keeping an open mind on in case I changed how I felt from my initial reaction.)

Flavor words can do some things that we can't replicate elsewhere. I agree they can be overused, and are not always used optimally, but I don't think we want to throw out the baby with the bathwater.

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copperbadge · 5 months ago

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I found myself wishing the other day that humans had to sleep for an hour every 2-3 hours. I think this would solve a lot of problems and create a bunch of interesting new ones!

1. Publicly available places to sleep would be commonplace because you'd want to just sleep where you are and keep getting stuff done. You don't want to be commuting to work every 2 hours for example. So you'd do like three waking shifts and then go home for a while, and you'd have a comfy place to sleep at work.

2. I would never have to spend more than two hours doing any one thing and if I did I'd get a break in the middle and wouldn't have to come up with an excuse to go.

3. Clothing would need to be mainly sleepable. Goodbye business casual! Also people who hate getting dressed up fancy (ie me) would have their sacrifice properly appreciated since getting dressed up takes time and demonstrates commitment.

4. Movies would never go more than two hours without an intermission.

5. On the downside, studies have shown that one of the biggest perils to the health of a person in the hospital is the number of times staff changes over while they're there. More handoffs of patients does correlate with more medical errors. If you're handing off every two hours, or four hours at a push, either a bunch more people die, or medical communication has to be a lot better....

6. Which is actually an upside I guess. Probably extends to shift work too, like heavy construction and such.

7. Insomnia in this sort of situation must REALLY suck, though.

8. I suppose it would also suck for people who are Bad At Mornings, I've just vastly multiplied the number of mornings you have to deal with over the course of your life. If you live to the age of 80, you will have had about 29,000 mornings. If you had to sleep eight times a day, you would have like 230,000 mornings.

9. We would probably do something terrible to the ecology of Earth in order to grow enough coffee to deal with that.

10. Driving in traffic or taking long road trips might be logistically complicated. Most plane flights would need like four teams of pilots. Might lead to more mass transit, though.

11. Marathon running just got harder, but I know marathoners and they're all deep weirdos to start with so they'd probably embrace the challenge.

12. I get terrible bed head and would spend most of my time looking like I'd been dragged out of a tree.

I'm sure there are unknown horrors lurking in the idea, but I still like it. I bet all cats everywhere would appreciate it too.

#sleep #speculation

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lilyblackdrawside · 15 days ago

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Spuria & self-sabotage.

Spuria has a bit of a reputation for being a worthless operator. Making things worse at worst and being a worse Aak at best.

(tldr at the bottom)

Her S1 is an on-deploy skill that gives her +100 aspd for 24 seconds, which works quite nicely with her Talent, which gives her a 70% chance to trigger one of three effects: - Ignore 80% Defense - Stun for 1 second - Hit twice

With her module, she also crits for 115% damage on top of that. Geeks have good attack stats and a solid 1.3s attack delay, making them reminiscent of Marksman Snipers. In this role, she is similar, but unfortunately noticeably worse than Aak, who with his module became quite a control menace - able to be perfectly self-sufficient as long as he has something to shoot, does good damage and with his own S1 (+100 aspd, 30s, 30sp, 20 initial sp) he sports pretty much a permanent stun on whatever he's shooting. Her 80% defense piercing shot is probably the most noteworthy of her random effects, but at a 23.3% chance per hit to get this exact effect, I wouldn't bet on it. Though that aside, she does solid damage with S1 and she won't die from her own trait within its duration, so you can just kinda throw her around. Once every 70/66/60 seconds.

Her second skill is easily the more notorious one and the one that gave her her awful reputation. At M3 it gives +30% atk and +40 aspd to herself and one Sniper in her range (same targeting as Aak S2/3) for 20 seconds, costing 40sp and deploying with 30. Now, compared to Aak's +50% atk and +50 aspd, this does feel a bit limp and her available targets are a bit limited too, but she is noteworthy for not outright executing the Snipers in question on using this skill. Oh. I forgot.

It has a 20% chance to stun those buffed for 1.8 seconds after each attack.

This is what made people toss her aside. It just looks so stupid. But is it? In the first place, what can we expect from 20%? Let's take a Besieger Sniper - they have an attack interval of 2.4s, which goes to 1.71s with this buff. Over the course of 20 seconds, you can shoot 11 times. So you're gonna stun yourself like twice, three times maybe? I guess? You can just bring Lumen, he'll instantly cure it, so no problem, right? But at that point you could've just gone with Aak + Shining and used his more potent buff (which also costs 5 sp less). So it's no good after all, right? Well, what does it mean to be stunned? You can't attack, block or use skills. Blocking isn't meaningful, we're talking about Snipers (and Spuria - she buffs herself as well after all) here. The other two, you do want to do those most of the time, yeah.

But what actually happens when you get stunned after you just attacked? The attack still goes through after all. It's not like it jams. That's right: your attack delay just starts ticking down. What is a Sniper if not stunned between their attacks anyway? Why would Fiammetta care about being a bit dizzy for 1.8 seconds when she takes longer than that to fire again anyway?

THAT'S RIGHT THE STUN DOES NOTHING TO A GOOD AMOUNT OF SNIPERS (and is almost meaningless to that many again)

If you have a base attack interval equal to or higher than 2.52, you will not give a shit!!!!!!!!

So now that I've revealed the grand secret of the stun being just smoke and mirrors if you know what you're doing, let's do some numbers:

The skill has a x1.82 raw damage multiplier on two allies, usually a bit higher in practice. (physical damage calculations) Aak has x2.25 on two allies Warfarin has x1.9 on one ally and a medic

Spuria vs Aak: - Slightly worse uptime (40sp vs 35sp) - Can actually buff Snipers without killing them though. - Quite a bit weaker

Spuria vs Warfarin: - Slightly worse uptime (40sp+20s duration vs 60sp and no "duration" + Warfarin SP gains) - A pure attack buff has upsides and downsides. Pretty much any operator has an attack buff, while aspd buffs are less common. Due to this, Spuria's buff has better scaling both with other outside buffs as well as most self-buffs. She also buffs two damage dealers, as opposed to a Medic and a damage dealer. Warfarin is also a Medic, so you've got a bit of opportunity cost to bringing her.

Spuria vs both: - Only hits Snipers. - Usefully hits only a few of them.

Factoring the aspd buff into the stun duration, we get the following attack intervals that don't care at all about the stun: R7 2.6s M1 2.7s M2 2.43s M3 2.52s

(ASPD values mentioned below are on top of the +40 from Spuria's buff)

Artilleryman Snipers: Need >+15 ASPD to start to suffer from the stun.

Shirayuki needs >+27 ASPD (22 with module) Jieyun S1 goes to 1.75 Fiammetta off-skill goes to 1.68/1.65/1.62 (Raw/Y/Y+Pot5). On S3, she goes to 2/1.87 (Raw or ModX/ModY). The skill has no built-in +atk, but her talent does. Great target.

Deadeye Snipers Need >+10 ASPD to start to suffer from the stun

Ambriel needs >+4 (off-skill/S1) / >+54 (S2) Andreana goes to 1.78/1.68/1.67 (Raw/Module/Module+Pot5) Lunacub goes to 1.64/1.45 (S1 Raw/Module) / 0.82/0.72 (S2 Raw/Module) Fartooth goes to 1.08/1.05 (S2 Raw/Modules) - 1.84 on S3 which brings her from 7.9 attacks during S3 (modules) to 10.8, which is a 60% damage increase! The buff also has the same duration as her S3. (compared to Aak S3's 87% damage increase that's really good and much less of a hassle to set up) Amazing target!

Besieger Snipers Go to 1.71 just from Spuria's buff and so always suffer slightly from the stun, but only a little bit. They're still firing faster than they would without it, even if they somehow roll the stun on every attack.

Totter and Erato go to 1.26 on S2, but Totter's pretty nice with it with S1. Though Totter's S2 gets the full benefit from the +30% atk, so probably worth gambling. It might make Erato's interval smoother with her SP regen on S1 but I don't care to do the math on it or test it. Toddifons' S2 is ammo-based, so she doesn't really care about losing 0.09 seconds every now and then and the secondary hit enjoys any attack buff she can get. Rosa S3 completely bypasses the stun by making her stop attacking. It also bypasses the aspd buff in that way. But with the meager attack buff on it, the extra +30% just use Warfarin if you must. Typhon goes to 1.3 with S1 and 3.93 with S3 - down from the raw 5.5s interval that S3 saddles her with usually. S3 also has no attack buff attached to it, so she gets the full 82% damage buff and is the best recipient with it.

Spreadshooter Snipers Go to 1.64 just from Spuria's buff and so always suffer slightly from the stun. They're still firing faster than they would without it, even if they somehow roll the stun on every attack.

Pinecone's S1 has a built-in autoattack reset, so she doesn't particularly care for the buff. Her S2 does have the same duration, but doesn't line up well over multiple uses. It's also bad. aosta. goes to 1.24 on S1 and 2.46 on S2, which is actually meaningful because it presents a 50% reduction in his bind downtime. Good target. Executor goes to 0.97 (S2+Module)

Flinger Snipers Go to 1.5 just from Spuria's buff so they do lose out a fair bit, but not to a detrimental degree.

Greyylter goes to 1.14 on S1 Rosmontis goes to 2.25 on S2 and 0.75 on S3. She quite likes aspd buffs on S2 to reduce her stun downtime. Good target.

Past this, there isn't a Sniper Branch that I feel is noteworthy for receiving the buff.

Somewhat noteworthy exceptions: Schwarz: S3 gives her a base interval of 2, putting her at 1.43 with the buff. Durations also line up nicely. But are you really willing to risk it? Coldshot: You can prevent her from getting her talent's bonus damage while using S2 by lowering her reload time below 2 seconds again.

Spuria herself goes to 0.93s attack interval, so when she stuns herself she basically loses one attack. Still worth it unless you get the absolute worst luck.

tl:dr:

While stunned, attack interval still ticks down. If you have a base attack interval equal to or higher than 2.52s, the stun does nothing. Artilleryman and Besieger Snipers take it without complaints, Besiegers, Spreadshooters, Flingers and Schwarz (S3) are reasonable targets. Typhon (S3), Fartooth (S3), Fiammetta (S3), Rosmontis (S2), aosta. (S2) are the best recipients in descending order.

#arknights

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sequinsmile-x · 1 month ago

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Casually Cruel in the Name of Being Honest

Five times Emily doesn't yell at Elizabeth, and one time she does.

-x-

Hi friends,

It's been a little while since I got all up in Emily's mommy issues, so here are are.

Like all these 5+1 fics do this got away from me.

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy

Words: 7.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

One

“Last chance to back out.”

Aaron looks at his girlfriend as they step into the hotel lobby, and his heart aches at the look on her face, the barely contained tension he can see in the set of her jaw. The tightness of it spreads down her neck and across her shoulders, her posture so stiff and rigid he’s surprised her collarbone doesn’t crack with the pressure of it. He reaches for her hand and links their fingers together, his smile soft and full of love as he raises their joint hands to kiss her knuckles.

“I have met your mom before, sweetheart,” he says in an attempt to calm her down, something he knows he’s failed at when she sighs, the sound drawn from the depths of her soul, pushing past years of repression and pain over the relationship with her mother that had never been what she’d wanted.

“Not as my boyfriend, Aaron,” she replies, huffing as he tugs her out of the way of the flow of people walking into the hotel, all dressed up like they were. A lobby full of tuxedos, beautiful dresses, and faces she vaguely recognises all here to take part in the charity event her mother was hosting, “She’s…” she swallows thickly, “She’s hard work and full of opinions. Especially when it comes to my life. I don’t want her to…”

He frowns as she drifts off, her eyes shining, the lights from the high ceilings reflecting in them. He squeezes her hand again and uses his other to cup her chin, encouraging her to look at him. He makes sure he’s firm but kind as he speaks, not wanting her to doubt him or his feelings for her in any way.

“There is nothing your mother could do or say that would make me change my mind about being with you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, her reprimand about her lipstick when he tried to kiss her properly in the car still floating around in his mind, “Nothing.”

She chokes on a laugh, “I don’t know how to feel about the fact you can already read my mind 6 months into our relationship.” She squeezes his hand, makes sure to press everything she won’t say here into his skin, her love for him, the way she treasured him, something she considered to be just for them.

He leans in to kiss her cheek again, “You say that like you can’t read mine.”

She hums, “One of the downsides of dating a profiler I guess. Or an upside. Depending on how you look at it.” she smiles, unable to stop herself, the corners of her lips turning upwards despite how she’d felt just moments ago, “We should go in.”

He nods and lets go of her hand, offering her his arm instead, and he smiles when she hooks hers through it and wraps her other hand around his tricep, desperate to be as close as possible. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

“You’re so getting lucky when we get home later.”

They manage to dodge her mother at first. It’s a dance Emily had learnt at a young age, her mother’s patterns and habits ones she’d learnt as a defence mechanism. It would never last all evening, because her mother knew her just as well, but it often lasted long enough to have a couple of glasses of champagne. The tension in her chest and shoulders loosened by the bubbles as well as Aaron’s touch, his hand a constant reassurance on her back as he kept his promise to not leave her side.

Emily blows out a breath when she spots her mother walking towards them, a man Emily knew to be the son of one of her fellow ambassadors in tow, “Incoming.”

Aaron doesn’t have a chance to respond before Elizabeth is next to them, leaning in to kiss Emily on each of her cheeks, the same greeting he’d watched her give everyone she’d spoken to that evening.

“Emily,” she says, smiling as she steps back, “It’s lovely to see you,” she looks at Aaron, “Agent Hotchner, lovely to see you too,” she turns to look at the man next to her, “Emily I’m sure you remember Anthony, Ambassador Collin’s son,” she waits for Emily to nod, “Anthony, this is my daughter Emily and her boss, Agent Hotchner.”

She knows it’s purposeful. That her mother’s use of Agent Hotchner instead of his name is an attempt to make him feel small, to try and implement some kind of hierarchy that only she cared about. Emily also knew it was no coincidence that she’d walked over with Anthony, a man she had tried to set Emily up with close to 20 years ago. A man she knew had recently, very publicly, got divorced.

“Aaron,” she corrects, her smile sweet, the fake one Aaron had watched her use with unsubs and police officers who got a little too close for comfort, “His name is Aaron, and he’s also my boyfriend.”

The flash of annoyance across her mother’s face is something she enjoys more than she should, but she keeps her smile fixed in place, desperate to maintain the polite niceness that they had always existed in. She’d learnt a long time ago it was best to not bite at anything her mother dangled in front of her, that Elizabeth would always end up turning it on her. So instead she played the game her mother had invented, the pieces of it were ones she’d learnt to use when she was young.

“Nice to meet you,” Anthony says to Aaron, offering his hand out, his smile a kind of smug Emily hates, “You’re an Agent?”

“At the FBI,” Aaron answers, reaching out to shake his hand. He squeezes tighter than necessary, something Emily can see in the way Anthony’s eyes briefly flash when his knuckles knock together, but his smile never shifts. It’s proof she didn’t know she needed that he could slot into this part of her life easily, “What is it you do?”

Anthony clears his throat as he pulls his hand away, subtly shaking it to relieve the ache as it falls back to his side, “I’m currently…in between positions.”

Aaron hums, an edge of sympathy to it that Emily knows is fake, and she has to press her lips together to stop herself from smiling, “Well,” she says, looking at her mother, her eyes fierce as they meet briefly, “We were about to go dance, right honey?”

He nods and reaches for her hand, his touch soft as he links their fingers together, “Yes, we were,” he replies, “Lovely to see you again Ambassador Prentiss.”

By the time they make it to the dance floor, Emily is furious, her anger simmering under her skin as Aaron pulls her closer, his arm banding around her back, “She is unbelievable,” she grumbles, her breath skipping across Aaron’s cheek, “Trying to set me up with that guy right in front of you.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he assures her, squeezing her hand to encourage her to look at him, “It’s not your fault,” he leans in to kiss her, his lips catching hers, “Do you want me to say something to her?”

She shakes her head, “No, it’s…it’s just easier to not say anything,” she says, “I learnt that a long time ago.”

“Do you want to leave?”

She sighs sadly, “It’s easier to stay too,” she says, leaning in to kiss him, “You held your own though,” she says, smiling as she pulls back, “It’s almost like you were born for this.”

He smiles, “I was born to be with you,” he replies, and it has the reaction he’d hoped for. A surprised laugh pulled from her chest that is followed by her rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

She kisses him, not a quick thing this time but a kiss that leaves her having to wipe her lipstick from his lips afterwards, her touch and the way she looks at him tender, their future swimming in the depths of them. “I think I was born to be with you too.”

___

Two

She hums contentedly as she rests her head against Aaron’s shoulder, her smile impossibly wider when he turns his head to kiss her forehead.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He mumbles against her skin and she nods, tilting her head upwards to capture her fiance’s lips in a kiss, her hand on his cheek as she ignores the playful jeers from some of their friends.

“I’m more than okay,” she says, kissing him again, “This has been…” she shakes her head at herself as she drifts off, looking around the room, their nearest and dearest spread out at all the other tables around them, empty plates and half-empty glasses around them, “It’s been more fun than I thought it would be.”

The party had been Penelope’s idea at first. Her delight at their engagement immediately shifting her into party planning mode, her eyes wide and full of excitement as all of Emily and Aaron’s attempts at saying they didn’t need a party were ignored. In the end, they’d relented, both of them more excited than they’d admit at the idea of celebrating their love for each other as much as they could. Elizabeth had largely overtaken everything the moment she found out, seemingly almost more excited at the idea of an engagement party than she was at the engagement itself.

“Your mother and Garcia should open a party planning business,” he says dryly, tasting her laugh as he stamps a kiss against hers.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” she quips, looking over at her mother, “Not before the wedding anyway.”

She’d decided not to argue with any of the plans about the engagement party, largely just happy to be told by her mom and Penelope where to go and when to go there. She was saving her strength to keep the wedding itself as she wanted it to be, absolutely insistent that it would be much simpler than this had been. That the only guests would be people she cared about, not a room full of her mother’s friends and colleagues like this had turned into.

“Good point,” he mumbles, his lips against her temple as their attention is pulled away from each other by the sound of a piece of cutlery gently tapping against a glass. They look over to find Elizabeth standing up, her glass of champagne in hand as the room falls into silence.

Emily muffles a groan against Aaron’s shoulder, “Here we go,” she grumbles so only he can hear her. He places his hand on her thigh and squeezes. She links their fingers together, reaches for her wine, “$50 she makes a comment about my age.”

He doesn’t have time to respond before Elizabeth starts her speech, so he simply squeezes Emily’s thigh again, putting as much love into the touch as he can. He’d promised a long time that he wouldn’t get involved in her relationship with her mother, that he’d leave it to her, but it was hard at times. Almost impossible to keep himself in check as he watched Elizabeth chip away at Emily’s self-confidence, her fingers pressed against buttons she’d sewed on herself when her daughter was young.

“I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for coming,” Elizabeth says, “I lost hope years ago that I’d ever get to throw an engagement party for Emily,-”

“In the first sentence,” Emily mumbles to Aaron, her words drowned out by polite laughter, before she takes a large gulp of her wine, “Easiest $50 I’ve ever made.”

“- Despite all of that, I am so pleased that Emily has found someone who makes her happy,” Elizabeth carries on, a rare flash of genuine sincerity in her eyes as Emily looks up, “So, let’s raise a glass to Emily and Aaron.”

“To Emily and Aaron.”

They both smile as they raise their glasses too, and the room falls back into the loud chatter that had been there all evening.

“To us,” Aaron says, his smile soft when she looks at him, and she clinks her glass against his.

“To us,” she replies, her tone lacklustre as she takes a sip of her wine before she sets the glass down.

Aaron turns slightly so his knees knock against her leg, “Sweetheart-”

“It’s okay,” she says, cutting off his attempt to comfort her, not wanting anyone to be witness to it, his gentle love for her one of the few things that could make her fall apart, “It’s not like she was ever going to do a gushing, loving speech about me,” she shrugs, “It’s what I expected.”

“That doesn’t make it right, Em.”

She nods, her lips pressed together as she cups his cheek, “I know,” she says, smiling tightly before she stamps her lips against his, “Later.”

He tightens his hold on her leg but relents, knowing she won’t talk about it until they are alone, their house a sanctuary for both of them, “Later.”

She smiles gratefully and rests her cheek briefly against his shoulder before she sits up, “You’d better be good for that $50,” she says, easily slipping into the role she had to play here in a way that makes him ache, “I know where you live after all.”

He chuckles and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “I’m good for it,” he says, winking at her, “I’m about to marry rich.”

She scoffs, the laugh that pushes past it genuine, her smile wide and sparkling as she lightly slaps his chest, “Aaron.”

___

Three

She turns so she’s briefly side on to the mirror, her heart swelling in her chest at her reflection as she turns head on again, her hands smoothing down the white satin, “I love this one.”

“It’s a little simple, don’t you think.”

Emily closes her eyes and blows out a breath to centre herself before she turns to face the plush couch behind her. Penelope, JJ, Elizabeth and Jack were all lined up looking at her, looks of delight on all of their faces except her mother’s who was looking at her with a critical eye she hadn’t seen since they bought her dress for her confirmation.

It was a simple dress. Or as simple as a wedding dress could be. The neckline was scooped across her collarbone, ensuring that the scar on her chest was covered, not wanting Ian to have any involvement in this, and the dress was well fitted around her bust and waist, falling into a simple slip silhouette from there. The back of the dress was low, two straps that were an inch thick that came to just above her waist, and there were a series of small buttons that trailed down just past her lower back. It was beautiful and simple and it felt like it symbolised her and Aaron’s love for each other because of that.

“You’ve said that about every dress I’ve tried on,” she scrunches her nose up a little and sees her mother raise her eyebrows. Elizabeth doesn’t have to say anything for Emily to know what she’s thinking, oh you do look like your father when you do that, so she stops, exhaling slowly as she looks at herself in the mirror.

“That’s because every dress you’ve tried on is simple.”

“I think it’s nice,” JJ says, ever the person to try and mediate, “It suits you.”

Penelope nods and dabs at her eyes with a bright pink handkerchief, “You look beautiful.”

She smiles at her friends, their love for her, for her family, something she doesn’t think she could live without. Their friendship the very thing she once thought she’d never have, female companionship she’d somehow lived without in the 37 years before she’d met them.

“Thank you,” she says before she turns to her mother, “I like that it’s simple, I don’t think I’m a ruffles and taffeta kind of bride,” she says, stepping off the small platform in front of the mirror as she looks down at herself, smiling when she hears JJ and Penelope stifle a laugh. “I’m getting married in Dave’s backyard, I don’t exactly need a gown”

Elizabeth hums, “Yes, we all know where you’re getting married, Emily.”

She smiles, her jaw tight as she clears her throat, pushing away the instinct to argue with her mother. She’d made her distaste for Emily and Aaron’s wedding plans clear from the start. An almost constant barrage of passive aggressive comments about its simplicity, as if that was a dirty word, whenever the wedding was mentioned. Emily hated it, hated that she didn’t have a relationship with her mother where this was something they could bond over.

Most of all, she hated that she still expected anything different to what they had, that she consistently expected more from a woman who had never been what she’d wanted.

“I think you look really pretty, Emmy.”

Emily smiles at Jack and she walks over to him. She leans down and kisses the top of his head, trailing her fingers through his hair as she pulls back, “Thanks, sweet boy. Do you think Daddy will like it?”

“He’ll love it,” Jack says innocently, unaware of the slight tension around him that all of the adults were ignoring, “He always says you’re pretty in everything.”

She blushes at that and looks over Jack’s head at her mother, the tight smile that was always reserved for her painted across her face, “That settles it then. I’m getting this one.”

Penelope makes her pose with a sign from the bridal shop with ‘I said yes to the dress’ printed on the front of it. Emily pulls Jack into the picture, his smile as wide as hers, and she texts it to Aaron as they all head out for a celebratory dinner. By the time they get home, she’s exhausted in just about every way possible. She slumps down onto the couch and covers her face with her hands, the cool press of her engagement ring against her cheek a comfort to her weary soul.

“Are you okay sweetheart?”

She groans as she pulls her hands off her face and looks up at Aaron, “I’m tired.”

He smiles at her and joins her on the couch, his arm around her shoulders as he encourages her to lean on him, “Jack just said the same thing,” he kisses her forehead, “I think if I went upstairs in about 10 minutes I’d find him and Sergio curled up asleep on his bed,” he smiles as she chuckles against him, “He also said that, and I quote ‘Miss Lizzie was being mean to Emmy.’”

She sighs and pulls back to look at him, “I’m sorry, I should have protected him from it a little better. She was driving me crazy all day. She had an issue with every dress I tried on,” she smiles sadly and shrugs, “She didn’t like the one I chose in the end.”

“You don’t have to apologise for anything, Em,” he says, running his hand up and down her arm, “Do you like the dress?”

She nods, her lips pressed together as she tries to contain her smile, the same feeling she’d had when she saw herself in the dress for the first time blooming in her chest, “I love it.”

“Then that is all that matters,” he assures her, kissing the tip of her nose and smiling when she scrunches it up, “You look cute when you do that.”

She furrows her brow, “Do what?”

“Scrunch your nose up when I kiss it,” he does it again for good measure, his smile wide when it happens by reflex, “It’s cute.”

He was always doing that. Unknowingly undoing the damage her mother had done over the years. Her comments and criticisms so vast she could never tell him about them all. It warms her from the inside out. Makes it hard to breathe as she gets overwhelmed by it all, unsure what she’d done to deserve the love of a man like him.

“You’re cute,” she replies, kissing his cheek and then the corner of his mouth, smiling when he hums in response.

“You can’t tell anyone else, I’ve got a reputation as a hardass to uphold.”

She smiles and nods, happy to keep this version of him as hers. His softness for her and Jack something she wanted to protect, precious and rare and a privilege to see.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

___

Four

She sings along with the music as she dances with her new husband, her cheek skimming against Aaron’s as they sway back and forth.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks, turning his head so his lips catch the corner of hers, his hand on her back - half on her bare skin and half on the soft material of her dress.

“I’m more than okay,” she says as she leans in, her nose skimming his as she makes sure she’s quiet, keen to make sure none of the people watching them hear her, “I think this might be one of the best days of my life.”

He beams at her, his dimples carved out in his cheeks as he pulls her closer, “I know it’s one of the best days of mine.”

It had been everything she’d wanted it to be. Simple and intimate. Just the people that they cared about around them as they said their vows and made promises to each other she knew they’d keep, both of their voices shaking as they saw forever in each other's eyes.

She kisses him as the music comes to an end, her hands on his cheeks to hold him in place when she hears a playful jeer from Derek and some applause from the small crowd. She pulls back just barely enough to speak, “I love you so fucking much.”

Aaron chuckles and stamps his lips against hers, “I love you too,” he kisses her again, “So fucking much,” he looks up at Dave calling his name, the older man beckoning him over to the temporary bar set up in his back yard, ��Apparently I’m needed at the bar.”

She hums and looks over her shoulder at their friend before she turns back to Aaron, “Don’t drink too much,” she murmurs, running her hands down his chest to play with his tie, tugging lightly at the pure silk, “I have plans for you later that won’t work out if you drink too much of Dave’s expensive scotch.”

He smiles and squeezes her waist with both hands, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “You’ve been my wife a matter of hours and you’re already in charge.”

“Oh honey,” she says, tapping his cheek lovingly, “I’ve been in charge a long long time.”

He captures her hand and kisses her knuckles before he walks away, his fingers only slipping past hers when he’s too far away to hold her hand anymore, neither one of them wanting to be apart for long.

Emily sighs contentedly as she walks back towards the head table, seeking out her glass of champagne and a brief moment of solitude, the emotions of the day making her as overwhelmed as she was happy. She’s barely sat down before she smells her mother’s perfume. A mix of Chanel and judgement in the air signals her arrival before she can sit down next to her, a calling card Emily used to avoid wherever possible in the hallways of their home.

“Hello Emily,” she says as she joins her, “How are you doing?”

Her mother’s tone doesn’t pass her by, the way she asks it makes it sound like they were just passing the time of day, not that it was her only child’s wedding day.

“I’m good, Mom,” she replies, smiling when she looks over at Aaron and Dave at the bar, Jack just a few feet away from them as he dances with Will, “More than good. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” She looks at Elizabeth, “Today was…perfect.”

Elizabeth hums, “It was certainly…simpler than what I’d imagined for you when you were a little girl, but I guess it makes sense because you’re not exactly a blushing bride, and Aaron’s been married before. I’m glad you had a nice day.”

Emily presses her lips together and takes a calming breath. She’d promised herself, and Aaron, that she wouldn’t let her mother taint this, that she’d enjoy every second no matter what Elizabeth said. She’d kept that promise, let her mother’s comments about her dress, the food, the venue, all pass her by. Her enjoyment of the day, of the celebration of her love for Aaron and the future they were promising each other far more important than her mother’s attempts to get under her skin.

“Well,” she says, taking a sip of her champagne, “Given that I’m the bride that’s the aim.”

Elizabeth sighs, “Really, Emily, you do like to pick at everything I say. I was trying to say I’m glad you had fun.”

It’s a backhanded compliment and she knows it, as well as an attempt to place all of the blame for their fractured relationship on her shoulders, but she still doesn’t bite. Doesn’t want to trip and fall into an argument with her mother, knowing it wasn’t worth it on even a normal day. That she’d never truly win an argument she’d been born to lose.

“Thank you,” she replies, smiling sweetly as she finishes her champagne, “I’m going to go find my husband.” They both know it’s an excuse, Aaron had never left her line of sight, but Elizabeth doesn’t say anything, she simply nods and lets Emily go.

When she makes it to the bar Aaron wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her into his side, “I was just about to come rescue you.”

She cups his chin and holds him in place to kiss him, “You’re the best husband ever.”

He smiles and kisses her, and it makes her shiver. He steps back to shrug off his jacket and he places it around her shoulders, his voice low so only she hears him as he whispers against her ear, “You okay?”

She nods and looks back at him over her shoulder, “I’m perfect.”

His smile turns into a grin and he winks at her, “You’re finally coming round to my way of thinking, I’ve been telling you you’re perfect since our first date.”

___

Five

Having dinner at their house had been Aaron’s idea, his smile soft as he said it would make her feel more comfortable than going to her mother’s. She was nervous, anxiety thrumming under her skin over telling her mother their news, her stomach twisting with something other than the morning sickness that had been plaguing her for weeks.

They’d been trying since just before they got married, both of them aware that if they wanted a baby or two their time was starting to run out. Emily had started to lose hope, each negative pregnancy test hollowing out a little bit more of her chest each month. When she finally found herself staring at a positive test, two pink lines bright and unmistakable as they stared up at her, it took a moment for it to register. She hadn’t realised she was crying until Aaron stepped into the bathroom, ready to comfort her as per the routine they’d fallen into. It was only when she’d made him look at the test, too overwhelmed to say it outloud herself, that he realised they were tears of joy.

She was 16 weeks along now and her mother was the last person they had to tell. Jack was excited to be a big brother, his immediate demand for a little sister something that had made both Emily and Aaron laugh. The team had been delighted for them, as had Jessica when they told her, a glint in her eyes as she told Aaron that Haley would be happy for him. A part of Emily that she was never quite able to control hoped her mother would be happy for them too, that she’d break the habit of a lifetime and only have good things to say.

Dinner itself had been fine. Aaron cooked a meal that Emily could still stomach, a lot of her favourite foods apparently not favourites of the baby. After they finished eating, polite conversation floating in the air around them along with the smell of the chocolate dessert in the oven, Emily knows she can’t put it off any longer.

“Mom, we have something to tell you,” she says, her smile fading when her mother barely reacts, her gaze fixed on her cell phone in her hands. She’d been checking it on and off all night, seemingly too busy to be able to put her work aside for even one evening with her daughter, “Mom,” she repeats, an all too familiar feeling of disappointment washing over her, “Can you put your phone down for just a few minutes? I’m trying to talk to you.”

Elizabeth hums, still not looking up from the screen of her phone, typing furiously as she responds to whatever email she was replying to, “Emily, my job is important - you know that - and I can focus on two things at once.”

Suddenly, she’s 6 again. And 16. And desperate for her mother’s attention as she stood on the other side of her desk in her office. She can’t help but wonder when she’ll learn that things will never change. When that last bit of hope that her relationship with her mother could be different will eventually die out. Aaron links his hand through hers under the dining room table and it brings her back to herself, reminds her that she’s married now, that she’s sat in her home and that Jack is asleep upstairs. It doesn’t make the pain caused by her mother’s indifference go away, but it dulls it. Makes it bearable because she isn’t alone any more and she never will be again. She blows out a breath as she places her other hand on her mostly still flat stomach, the bump only really noticeable to her and Aaron when they looked for it.

“I’m pregnant,” she says, her hand tight around Aaron’s as she watches her mother carefully. She waits a few seconds for a response, for any kind of indication that she’d heard her, and she blows out a slow breath before she tries again, “Mom, did you hear me? I said-”

“Yes, you’re pregnant,” she says, cutting her off, finally looking over the top of her phone at Emily, “Did you really think I didn’t notice the moment I arrived? You’re not drinking wine and you look…healthier than when I last saw you.”

“You can’t-”

She cuts off Aaron’s attempt to defend her with nothing but a squeeze of his hand, her blunt nails briefly digging into the gaps between his fingers. She clenches her teeth, her jaw so tight she’s surprised it doesn’t fracture, and she swallows thickly to push down everything she doesn’t have the energy to say, “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow at her, “Do you want me to say something else?”

She mumbles under her breath, “Most people start with congratulations.”

“What was that, Emily?”

“Nothing,” she replies as she stands up, the scrape of her chair against the hardwood floor echoing throughout the room, “I said I’ll go check on dessert.”

She’s in the kitchen for all of a few seconds before Aaron is with her, his jaw set in a firm line as he barely hides his irritation, “Em-”

“Honey, can we not do this,” she says, casting a glance at him as she gets the dessert out of the oven, her entire body tense as she places it down on the counter, “I don’t need you to tell me I deserve better, or that she shouldn’t speak to me that way. Because I know that okay?” Despite her irritation, despite the sadness turning over in her gut, she keeps her voice low, not wanting her mother to overhear or to wake up Jack, “I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. But it’s how it is and nothing is going to change that,” she turns to get some bowls out of the cabinet, sure if she looked at him too long she’d fall apart despite what she’s saying, “I really can’t deal with this right now. We just…can we just see it through until she goes home? Please?”

It takes everything in him to nod in agreement. To not go into the dining room and tell his mother-in-law exactly what he thought of her, and that she wasn’t welcome in his home until she treated his wife with the respect she deserved. It goes against all of his instincts, his desire to protect her, even though she’d spent all her life protecting himself, so habitual to him it felt like breathing. He knows this is what she wants though, that he has to follow her lead when it comes to her mother and her relationship with her, so he steps forward, his hand skirting her lower back as he slips past her to grab the serving spoon.

“I’ll serve dessert, sweetheart,” he says, smiling softly at her, “Why don’t you go have a minute or two alone? I think I saw Sergio in the living room. I’m sure he’ll appreciate some attention.”

She sighs gratefully, resting her head against his shoulder as he wraps one arm around her, allowing herself a brief moment of comfort before she pulls away, a taster of what she’d get to have later when her mother was gone, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her forehead as she steps past him and disappears from view. He blows out a frustrated breath the moment he’s alone, irritation aimed at Elizabether burning in his veins, and then hears his wife clear her throat from the doorway, “Yes baby?”

“Can I have the end piece please?”

He smiles and nods, “You’re having my baby - you can have the end piece for the rest of our lives.

She smiles at him, the ache in her cheeks caused by him at odds with the churning caused in her gut by her mother, “Correct answer.”

___

+ One

Emily rocks herself back and forth on the porch swing, her cheek pressed against the top of her daughter’s head as she hums, letting Ivy feel the vibrations of her chest as she eases her back to sleep. She looks up sharply at a loud laugh, smiling when she sees Jack pushing Hazel on the swing set, the three-year-old always at her happiest when she is the centre of her brother’s attention.

Ivy gristles against her, rubbing her face against Emily’s collarbone, and she looks down to soothe her, her lips against the top of her head as she rubs a hand up and down her back, “You’re okay, sweet girl,” she kisses her head again, “One day, far too soon for my liking, you’ll be out there playing with them too.”

The 6-week-old grunts as if in response and Emily chuckles, the sound drowned out by the door leading out from the kitchen to the porch. She smiles at her husband as he pops his head around the door, his lips pressed together.

“Your mother’s car just pulled up.”

She nods, grateful for the warning, and he steps back into the house to let her mother in. Elizabeth had been away on assignment and had only been back in the US for a couple of days, so this was the first time she’d be meeting Ivy.

“Are you ready to meet grandma, Ivy?” She asks, smiling down at the sleeping newborn, “Don’t worry if she looks angry, that’s just her face.”

She waits as she hears muffled conversation get louder as Aaron and her mother walk through the house and her breath catches in her chest when the door opens again, a type of anxiety only her mother could draw out of her filling her lungs.

Despite her initial disappointing reaction to finding out Emily was pregnant with Hazel, Elizabeth had been an excellent grandmother. She doted on the little girl and Jack, buying them extravagant gifts from wherever she went in the world, always ignoring Emily’s subtle attempts at trying to say it was too much. She’d love Ivy too, Emily knew that, but she also knew her limit for her mother’s comments, well meaning or not, ended with her children. She could accept whatever her mother wanted to say about her, but never them. They would grow up free of the shackles of expectation that she’d never quite been fully held down by, and the halls of their home were full of love and affection, not disappointment and conversations that didn’t mean anything.

“Oh look at her,” Elizabeth says as she joins them on the swing, peering down at the baby fast asleep against Emily’s chest, “She’s precious.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Emily says, “Do you want to hold her? I just fed her so she’ll be settled for a while.”

Elizabeth subtly shakes her head, “I’m happy to just look, this suit is Chanel, I can’t risk any baby related projectiles.”

Emily casts a glance at Aaron, who was not so subtly glaring at the back of Elizabeth’s head, but any conversation is cut off as Jack and Hazel run up to the porch, both delighted to see their grandmother. Aaron eventually takes Ivy from Emily to put her down in her bassinet, and as Jack and Hazel tire of listening to the adults talk and run back into the backyard, Emily finds herself alone with her mother.

“Aaron said you had to have a c-section?”

She nods at her mother, ignoring the ache in her arms now her baby is no longer in them, instead focusing on Jack and Hazel running around the backyard, “Yes,” she replies, “Ivy was being a little stubborn and my labour stalled. It was the safest thing for both of us.”

It hadn’t been what she’d wanted. Her memories of her labour with Hazel were fond ones, the pain of it blurry now, the only sharp memories the ones of being handed her daughter for the first time, that first press of her skin against hers. Her labour with Ivy had become very scary very quickly, and she still felt like she’d been robbed of some of the joy of what she knew was her last baby’s birth.

“They used to call it the easy way out back in my day.”

Emily scoffs, the sound escaping before she can stop it, “As someone who’s done it both ways, I can assure you there is no such thing as the easy way out, Mother.”

Hazel laughs loudly from the swing set, drawing their attention towards her as she tries to run up the slide attached to it, the multicoloured tutu she’d insisted on wearing and her stripy tights, her feet bare other than them after she’d won the battle over shoes that morning, hindering her ever so slightly. Emily is about to call out to tell her to be careful when Jack beats her to it, his hands on his little sister’s back as he guides her upwards, his smile shy as he looks over at Emily.

“She really is wild,” Elizabeth says, as if she’d only vocalised half a thought, “You’re going to have to get her under control at some point.”

She can feel her control fraying, the edges of it giving way as she swallows thickly, desperate to make sure she doesn’t snap, “She’s three. And she’s acting like a three-year-old. I see nothing that needs controlling.”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, “Oh please Emily, if you don’t tamper all of that down soon she’s going to end up just like you.”

Snap.

“And what’s wrong with that, Mom?” She asks, not able to keep it in, her anger breaking free of where she’d kept it locked away all these years, “What would be so awful about my little girl being just like me?”

“Emily, you’re over-”

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” she says, standing up and throwing a glance at the kids, forcing a smile when Jack looks at her with concern pressed into his eyes. She calms down for a moment, never wanting him to think she was angry with him, “Look after your sister for me, we’ll just be inside.”

“Yes, Mom,” he replies with a nod and Emily walks in, grateful that she doesn’t have to explain to her mother that she expects her to follow her. The moment they are inside she turns to look at Elizabeth, the confusion painted across her face doing nothing to calm her down.

“I think you misunderstood me, Emily,” she says, her hands folded in front of her, “I was simply saying-”

“That if I don’t teach my little girl, my fucking three-year-old, to be quieter, to make herself smaller, that she’ll have the misfortune of turning into me,” she scoffs, shaking her head as tears fill her eyes, still at the mercy of her hormones and a lack of sleep, “Which, apparently is a fate so awful you feel the need to mention it.”

She hears Aaron’s footsteps behind her as he joins them, feels his palm on her lower back, “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Before she can say anything, before she can do anything other than look up at him through shining eyes, her mother cuts over her.

“Aaron, please speak to your wife - she’s being ridiculous.”

Aaron wraps his arm around Emily’s waist, his grip firm and reassuring as a disbelieving sob catches in her chest, “I think it’s best you leave, Elizabeth.”

In any other circumstance, Emily is sure she’d find the look of shock that passes over her mother’s face funny, but it simply makes her angrier, the fact that she didn’t get it, and likely never would, more painful than she could admit even to herself.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to leave,” he says, squeezing Emily’s hip one more time before he steps away to lead Elizabeth towards the front door, “I won’t have you come here and upset her. Not when I’ve already let so much slide in the past.”

Elizabeth scoffs, “She’s my daughter-”

“And she’s my wife,” he says, opening the front door, “You should go.”

Elizabeth sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly, “I didn’t mean to cause any upset.”

“I think that’s the problem,” he says, standing so he’s blocking her view of Emily as she steps outside, “You never mean to, but you always manage to anyway.”

He closes the door and gives himself a moment to breathe through his anger, his grip on the door handle tight as he lets it pass. Emily didn’t need his anger, she needed his love - and that was something he had in abundance.

When he walks back into the kitchen, she’s still standing in the same spot, the sleeves of his sweater she’s wearing pulled down over her fists, visible wet streaks on them that he knows are her tears, her face also covered in them.

“So,” she chokes out, her smile shaking as she forces it, “How long have you wanted to throw my mother out?”

They both know what she’s doing, that it’s easier for her to try and use humour to get past this, the world unsteady beneath her feet after she’d said some things she thought she’d never say.

“Longer than I care to admit,” he says as he walks towards her, tugging her gently into his embrace, something she willingly sinks into. He kisses the top of her head and runs his hands up and down her back.

“How much did you hear?” She asks, her question muffled against his t-shirt.

“Enough to know it was something about Haze,” he says, smiling as he encourages her to look up at him, “I always knew if you were to snap at her it would be about the kids,” he wipes a tear from her cheek, “You never would if it was just about you.”

She hums, leaning into his palm as he cups her cheek, “I’m not sure what good it would have done. She’s never been one to self-reflect.”

“When you’re ready to talk to her about it,” he says, smiling when she kisses his palm, “I’ll be right there with you. And I’ll throw her out again if I need to.”

She smiles, the corners of her lips twitching upwards as she gives him a quick peek of her dimples, “My hero.”

He shakes his head, “No sweetheart,” he says, pulling her back against his chest, “You’ve always been your own hero. Just think of me as your live in bouncer.”

She laughs, loud and beautiful, and she shakes her head at him, “My very sexy live in bouncer.”

He stamps his lips against hers, “It’s the role of a lifetime.”

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fan fic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss

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melverie · 7 months ago

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Aaahhh, thank you so much for the tag @king-a-queen!! 💚💚

15 Questions Tag Game

01 - Are you named after anyone?

First name: nope Second name: yep, after my grandma

02 - When was the last time you cried?

About a week ago bc I was laughing too hard Also techinically this morning. My eyes just started tearing up a bit while I was still in bed & staring against the wall. I guess that white wall was just tugging at my heartstrings

03 - Do you have kids?

The only children I have are my OCs <3 My current beloved OCs are Aym, Marchosias (��💖💖💖💖), and Baal; all for Obey Me

04 - What sports do you play/have you played?

So as a kid, I took MSE (self-defense) classes, I did ballet for a short while, and I played badminton. But now I'm not really doing much sports anymore. I'm occasionally working out in a sad attempt to stay healthy but that's...not working out all that well because I keep forgetting about it lol. That being said, I walk anywhere as long as it's a walkable distance away (to me, that's around 90min max), idc it's the European mindset. Der Fußbus hält überall :)

05 - Do you use sarcasm?

As if I would ever smh what are these accusations

06 - What is the first thing you notice about people?

When I pass strangers on the street, I try to look for little moments that bring them joy. That being said, 90% of the time I'm just lost in my own thoughts & have completely tunnel vision, so imagine noticing anything 😭 When I first meet people tho, it's usually the way they look at you, which tbh is a little ironic because I sometimes just cannot look people in the eyes NFDHSKGJHKSDLGS

07 - What's your eye color?

They used to be blue, but now they're more of a greyish green with a few brown spots in them

08 - Scary movies or happy endings?

Okay endings, actually! Where characters don't get the happy ending they were hoping for, and some things are still a little messy, but all in all things are okay and they finally get to breath again. Though I guess that's kind of a happy ending? lol

09 - Any talents?

My newest talent is being able to imitate the cry of an owl. My sister explained it to me earlier & once I got it to work I've been doing it non-stop until I got lightheaded 😭 Worth it tho Other than that, being able to teach myself the basics of a lot of things within a day (one of the upsides of ADHD), as well as abandoning a lot of my projects after a while because I suddenly decided to start a completely different one (one of the downsides of ADHD) I also have a real talent for writing angst. Ask any of my closer mutuals, I keep terrorizing them with my ideas (love you guys 💖) And finally: telling myself that I'll go to sleep early & then it's 5am

10 - Where were you born?

in Germanyyy fun fact: I was born more or less close to a town that has a store called 'Mephisto' lol

11 - What are your hobbies?

being insane, obviously 💚 some of my mutuals can surely attest to that lol No, but in general I enjoy writing & drawing, as well as, uhm. Randomly deciding to take up multiple really time-consuming projects, such as the OM card rec thing I did that I still need to update ahhhh, my Obey Me OC & MC ask game that originally had 200+ questions before I cut it in half out of fear of it being too long, half of my side blogs, and SOOOO many other things. <- or in short, being insane 💚 I also really love cooking & baking! Side note, if anyone wants an easy chocolate lava cake recipe, you just need to ask... 👀 Also lately it's just been romancing Thanatos in Hades because I randomly remembered that I hadn't done that yet

12 - Do you have any pets?

I used to have clownfish and a starfish, but other than that I've never had any myself. I love the dogs I dogsit with all my heart tho, and there is this cat that I sometimes meet on my way to work. She always runs up to me when she sees me and won't stop meowing until I start petting her, and last time she climbed onto my lap (I sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, I did not care lmao), she's literally the sweetest 😭😭 I also ring the doorbell for her whenever it rains so she doesn't have to stay outside lol

13 - How tall are you?

1,68m or 5'6 if I got the conversion correct lol

14 - Favourite subject in school?

Heavily depended on the teacher, but generally art class because we usually got to work on whatever we wanted with and listen to music. Also English in 9th grade, math in 10th and German in 11th because the teachers were great

15 - Dream job?

I've been thinking of translations in general/software localizition for a while now. I just love dissecting all the small differences between languages (D.D.D.s being called 'D3' my beloved), + there are so many invisble choices made when translating. You'll always lose something because every language has its little quirks and a different mindset that can't be translated directly, but you'll also gain something that the original version didn't have. It's an art form in itself, and I really love that <3 The other job that keeps popping into my mind is event mangement. I already get to organize a ton of things for my uni since I'm part of the student council for one of my two majors. It's exhausting, but also really rewarding when you have people come up to you afterwards to tell you how much fun they had!

No pressure tags for a bunch of people, hehe >:) @alpine-forget-me-nots @healersadjust @misc-magic @sweetbrier2908 @reblogs-are-the-love @shootingstarrfish @mjoria @too-much-gacha @layphie @katboykirby @ghostlyyraccoon @lost-in-lamentation @bagofwetmice @glamphantasm @wizardthesai @mellonyheart @arlatthan as well as anyone else that wants to join!

#tag game #15 questions tag games #if anyone tagged would rather answer with a different blog of theirs then go ahead! i have main/side blogs figured out for most of you lol #also if some would rather not get tagged again in the future lmk!!

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sunflowersbones · 4 months ago

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The Hand That Feeds - II

Warnings: This fic will contain eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, abuse of power, violence, emotional manipulation, alluded to Mafia!Bucky. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary : Your best friend’s and yours entire lives have revolved around violence, death, greed and fear. You’ve always had each other and took comfort in the fact that none of this was your doing; you never had a choice. But what happens when time winds its roots around you, such that even when given the opportunity to leave, he neither leaves nor lets you leave. {mafia au}

"Well, well, don’t you look as handsome as ever?” You say, as you walk into his room.

You arrived a few hours early; before the party began. You’d wanted to spend a few extra hours with him.

You laugh as you see him struggle with his tie, and move over to help him with it.

“Excited about the party, birthday boy!?” You still couldn’t believe he was turning 18—that you had turned 18 a few months ago. The way time flies truly is a mystery.

“Oh! Come on, doll; all you do is compliment me. All the time. I'm starting to doubt it’s authenticity.”

“Ah! How could you? I would never say anything just to flatter you.” You say this as you fake a mock offense.

“I only state facts.” You say as you fix his tie, as he gives you a cheeky smile.

His suit was a very royal blue, and it suited him greatly.

“Well, it is a party, and I have you by my side, and I can finally start drinking. So I guess it's exciting enough.”

“Oh, please, like you haven’t already taken a sneak out of every bit of liquor in this house.” You chide.

“Well, I meant I wouldn’t have to hide and drink anymore, doll. Also, you’ve gotten a taste of most of them, so maybe you shouldn’t be complaining.”

“Alright!, Alright!” You say, as you finally fix his tie and pat his suit; Blue really was a beautiful colour on him.

“I’ve got something for you,” he says as he moves over to take the box placed on his vanity.

He stands behind you as he nudges you to stand closer to the mirror. He opens the box, takes out a necklace, and gently places it on your neck. It has a beautiful sapphire on it, covered by even prettier silver embroidery. You slowly touch the sapphire with your hand and feel its cold sense seep through you.

He clasps the back of the necklace and runs his hands through your arm. He rests his face on your shoulder, his pearly whites shining through as he smiles at you.

“Oh Bucky!, I can't accept this; it's your birthday; you shouldn’t be giving me gifts!.”

“Don’t be annoying, doll; it’s your responsibility to keep me happy on my birthday, and I’ll be very happy if you just accept my gifts without complaining about your guilt for once.” He chides.

You wanted to say something, but you didn’t want to drag the conversation on, especially since more people must have arrived.

“Thank you.” You say, earnestly.

“Don’t mention it.” He says, as he kisses you on the cheek.

“Well, I better go down; how’s the party supposed to start without me?” He says, as he makes his way out.

“Y/N.” He turns around and calls you before he leaves.

“Yeah.”

“I better see that necklace on you the whole night.”

"Fine, fine,” you chuckle back as he leaves.

The party has a lot more people than you initially expected; you assume that Bucky’s parents invited a lot of their colleagues as well. The upside is that you don’t have to deal with obnoxiously loud music or blinding neon lights. The downside, however, is having to deal with too many old people, their stares, and whispered conversations, making you feel like they’re all talking about you.

Your paranoia only increases when you see Sharon staring at you, her face contorting into an animosity you can’t place.

You look around in search of Bucky, only to realise that none of the boys are anywhere to be seen. You assume that they’ve all gone to get their hands on whatever new alcohol or drug they’ve gotten.

Relief fills you as you see Natasha’s familiar face coming towards you. You walk towards her, deciding that latching on to her would be the best way to survive.

“Oh wow! Bucky sure does have great taste; that’s a beautiful necklace.”

“I know, right!— Wait, how do you know that Bucky gifted it?”

“Come on, Y/N; everybody knows that Bucky gifted it.”

“Hmm, I guess you're right—not that I could afford something so expensive.”

“Yeah… well, that and the fact that Sharon saw Bucky at Tiffany’s last week—you don’t usually see a guy at a jewelry shop now, do you? Only his credit card.” She says, as she winks at you.

“She’s been seething ever since; she must have guessed that it was for you, and now it’s a known fact.” She says; eyeing your neck.

“I thought she liked Steve.”

“Honey, she likes anybody whose got money and who her parents would approve of.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t want to disappoint them; like Peggy did.”

“Maybe… Come on, let’s go get something to eat; I’m starving,” she says as she drags you along with her.

The night sky has a conspicuous beauty to it; even with its darkness, you feel comforted by it.

Nat, dancing next to you on the balcony with her third glass of wine, seems as carefree as ever; you sometimes wish you could be more like her.

Then you realise why you can’t; being carefree means not being cautious, and you’ve seen what the price of not being cautious can be.

As you lean on to the railing, you see Steve coming out through the door downstairs; his usually cheerful face seems to be hardened, and he seems a little more frustrated and agitated. Before you could call him out, you see Sam come out along with Tony. You suddenly realise that Bucky’s not with them, and you haven’t seen him the whole night. You don’t understand why they all seem so tense. You decide to go downstairs to talk to them and ask them about Bucky.

As you descend the stairs, you see Sam coming in; he’s back to his charming self.

“Oh, hey there, pretty lady! How you doin’?.” He says as he comes to hug you.

“Fine.” You say as you hug him back.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“Are you guys okay? I saw Steve leave; he seemed angry.”

“Oh, its nothing; just had a slight brawl is all.”

“Good god, can’t you guys not indulge in a fight, for one day? it's Bucky’s birthday.”

“Well, he’s the one who started it, and it's kinda your fault.” You hear Tony say as he walks in, liquor in his hand, same as ever.

“Shut the hell up, man! How’s it her fault?”

You look at him bewildered, confusion taking over you.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Well, you know, Zemo was being the jerk he usually is and said some shit about you, and then before you know it, Bucky’s beating the living shit out of him and giving him death threats.”

“He’s exaggerating; there was a little argument, is all.”

“Uh no, I’m not exaggerating at all. If this blows up and becomes an issue, it’s all on you.” He says, pointing a finger at you.

“Also, I was never here; if my parents find out, I’m dead.”

“It’ll be a great reason for my dad to disown me again, so… what!?” he says as Sam gives him an angry look.

Your mind gets a little hazy as dread settles in, “Where is he?”

“In his room.” Sam replies, as you dash off to go see him.

You throw open the doors to his room as you enter. He’s sitting on his bed as he stares back at you; he doesn’t seem surprised at your intervention, his hair disheveled, his tie gone and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. You stare at each other for a few seconds then you slowly walk up to him.

You gasp as you see his bruised knuckles.

“For gods sake, Bucky,” you cry out, “Who cares about what Zemo has to say?”

“Who told you?”

“Does it matter? You’re hurt; why did you have to start a fight?”

“I didn’t start it; he did; I ended it. He should have kept his mouth shut.” He bites back, the anger in his voice uncontainable.

A part of you is angry, but another is extremely upset; you don’t have it in you to fight. You go to the bathroom in search of the medicinal kit.

“Where are you going?”

You don’t bother answering him as you search for it; when you find it, you bring it with you as you sit next to him.

His eyes are still in a drunken haze; he probably doesn’t even feel any pain. You wash the wound, apply the antiseptic cream to the entire area, and cover it with a bandage.

“You take such good care of me, you know that? You always do.” He whispers, You feel your throat burn as your eyes start tearing up.

“Hush-hush, now,” he says as he wraps his hand around you.

“It’s ok. I’m ok; I’m not even that hurt Y/N.”

You lean on to him as you cry out, unable to control your feelings.

“It was necessary; neither he nor anyone else can go around thinking they can talk shit about my best friend; he has to learn a lesson.”

“I wasn’t going to let him get away with it, but it's fine now; everything’s fine now,” he says as he pats your head. You lay on his chest as you sob.

A perfectly good day ruined—nothing you’re not used to, though.

#bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia au #dark!fic #dark!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bestfriend!bucky barnes #x reader fic #x reader #bestfriend!bucky #marvel fanfiction #marvel

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