#SOMEONE EXPLAIN THE WELL IN MINUTE BUT SIMPLE TO UNDERSTAND DETAIL PLEASE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

otterocs · 2 years

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*taps drive through mic* can i get uhhhh 1, 2, 11, 15, 16, 18, 27, 29, 30, 42, A, B, F for varus, mordred and andy?

This turned out so fucking long So I hope you're ready for an essay, and I'm putting most of it behind a cut <3

1 What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Varus: Not long, he can get lost in a daydream for a few minutes, replay a conversation, but he’d much rather have something to do, at least a book to read or something to work on, even someone to talk with. If he had a pen/pencil, then he’d be tapping it. He also tends to get suspicious if he’s in a situation where he has to sit still, so there’d be the Nervous Leg Bounce until he’s finally out of patience (around the 5–10-minute mark) and gets up to investigate

Mordred: He’s got about 30 seconds before he gets antsy. Probably less. Relaxing doesn’t work for him, he’s always gotta be doing something, so there’s a lot of pacing and fiddling, other nervous tics…

Andy: They’ve sort of trained themselves to be patient. Inside they’re imagining storming out and confronting whatever is making them wait, but outside they’ve got their face trained to stony-impassiveness or polite patience depending on the situation. You might catch them clenching their fists under a table, notice their jaw tense, or see them adjust their posture and breath in a way to force them to relax.

2 How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Varus: Very easily. Laughing is a bit of a nervous response for him, but he also finds humor in a lot of different situations (he makes a mistake, he laughs, someone else makes a mistake same thing. Most jokes will make him laugh, even if they’re not good, cause something about bad jokes just ends up being funnier than a well-constructed on

Mordred: It depends, he tends to take things literally a lot, so if he doesn’t quite catch the joke, he’ll probably try to figure it out and respond seriously. Jokes that are more obvious to him, he might crack a smile or roll his eyes. It also depends on who’s joking. A stranger he might respond to completely deadpan, but when Ortega tries to make him laugh, no matter how stupid the joke, he’ll probably laugh genuinely. …He also has the “laughing while in combat” response, whether he’s throwing punches or taking them. Especially while taking them.

Andy: Jokes don’t usually get to them. Most of Joker’s comments get a long-suffering side (though there’s a few exceptions) She doesn’t really use humor as a coping mechanism either, but its usually the situational or conversational things that make her laugh (Some of the things Grunt says tend to break their serious shell.) Animals being goofy is an almost guaranteed way to make them laugh well.

11 How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc.)?

Varus: Depends, for conceptional or theoretical things, he’ll ask, usually whoever’s talking will be happy to explain in more details… even if what he needs is for someone to dial it down to basics. Still, he tends to feel like he learned something from it and maybe gained some sort of points in their book, especially if it seemed like he understood. Instructional though, he tends to Not Ask and figure out on his own. If he does something wrong, oh well not his problem and that plan was stupid anyway, his plan was going to work better…

Mordred: Not well. He hates not knowing, but worse is letting on that he doesn’t know. So he tends to nod along, act like he knows and try to use what he already knows to puzzle it out, or look it up later. This also adds an additional layer of worry of being discovered that he doesn’t actually know.

Andy: They’ll be pretty blunt, They don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, please explain in simple terms. She doesn’t like being in the dark about things, and asking often gets a response, when that doesn’t help (say, a topic that’s a little advanced science of Math, or the one explaining brushes them off) she tends to get frustrated.

15 How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Varus: Varus is a bit interesting because he just doesn’t have a very good filter, he’ll blurt stuff out not really thinking what that reveals about him or how it makes other people feel. So he tends to be a little more reclusive, avoid seeking out conversation to begin with. He

Mordred: He takes his time speaking as much as possible. If he speaks first, he’s already played the conversation in his dozens of times. Of course, that doesn’t always mean he’s seen all the possible ways the conversation goes, so he often leaves a lot of empty space after someone speaks – sometimes they leave the silence, sometimes they’ll fill it for him. There are things that catch him off guard, and he definitely has times where he reacts without thinking, usually in anger, sometimes other emotions slip through that he doesn’t mean, but its often anger…

Andy: They tend to just say whatever comes to their mind when in conversation. If something connects to something else they know, they’ll bring it up, if something sounds like bullshit, they’ll *usually* call it. There are times they might hold back, especially if something tends to hit a very emotional spot, and its sort of a coin toss between relying on professionalism or lashing out.

16 What makes their stomach turn?

Varus: He’s not…. Squeamish, so he claims, but he really doesn’t like to be up close and personal for killing – he can fight, and he will (he avoids taking mercenary or bounty hunter jobs as much as possible, but its plentiful work and good “honest” coin while traveling.) blood, guts, bone… He prefers not killing if he can, but when its unavoidable, he’d rather use ranged weapons or poisons (though that also can be quite gruesome, at least he doesn’t have to stick around), anything to distance himself from it.

Mordred: Being physically restrained. He can’t deal with the feeling of being trapped, and helpless.

Andy: Slavery. In general, it’s a horrible thing and she’s struggling to believe that the council hasn’t been able to wipe out the practice at this point. It’s also personal for her, knowing that could have been their fate, that people she grew up with on Mindior were enslaved, maybe still are.

18 What embarrasses them?

Varus: Looking incompetent – he takes pride in the skills he has, even if most of them shouldn’t be openly advertised, but if he messes up or realizes that he’s in over his head in a physical fight… well he tends to feel like those talents are the only thing he’s got going for him, so without that… he just feels like a mess.

Mordred: He has a lot of gaps of knowledge, history, basic facts… So his education was a little abnormal, he picked up a lot of random but relatively useless or even outdated information from reading – or from learning what other people learned, not all of it correct. So, when someone references something he’s never learned, it just makes him more aware of his strangeness, how he doesn’t belong.

Andy: To make things complicated, embarrassment. They can survive a few minor mistakes and being poked fun at, but when their feelings start showing through (especially areas of “weakness” like getting a crush) they get Very defensive over it.

27 What causes them to feel dread?

Varus: When he realizes he’s outmatched, in over his head, facing an enemy that Could take him out with minimal effort on his part. The longer he fights against dragons, the more he gets a sense that he’s being toyed with…

Mordred: Two things… the idea of actually facing the consequences of his actions – loosing the friendships he swears he never wanted in the first place. And being found again, captured, loosing his sense of self again.

Andy: Failure. If something doesn’t turn out right for them, they start spiraling, sense of self confidence and worth etc., the consequences that it’ll have on others, knowing their failure might’ve led to someone on their squad getting hurt.

29 Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Varus: hmm, he usually views himself as less than ideal, if he was stronger, smarter, richer… He usually thinks he’s talented enough and everything else is just bad luck. One of the ideals he struggles with, since joining the thieves guild is having to suck up to the wealthy nobles of Skyrim – sure the guild needs influence, not just wealth, but this rule doesn’t sit well with him.

Mordred: Absolutely not. What are his ideals? He’s not even sure most of the time, but what he wants to be, and how he acts… often don’t align. Does he want to be the hero, one without having to hide the truth of who he is, be a part of something greater than himself? Or is he on the right path now, giving into the anger, letting himself be the monster he’s told himself he is this whole time? He also struggles a bit with the image he tries to project (distant, aloof, a careful planner who doesn’t act without seeing all the possible outcomes… Emotions slip through, he finds himself craving the company of others like he’s starved of it, and he finds himself acting on impulse more and more often – especially around Ortega)

Andy: They… don’t know. Their ideals would mean the galaxy was a lot more straightforward than it actually is – save good people from bad people, make the right choice always… that of course, never happens. So often times, its questioning whether they made the right decision long term, the what-ifs that haunt them…

30 Who do they most regret meeting?

Varus: Oh this is tough. Perhaps a weird way of answering this, but maybe Hermaeus Mora. He’s not sure what the Daedric Prince’s interest in him is but he doesn’t like it. He really doesn’t like that he doesn’t seem to have no choice but to play into his hands, at the cost of being Left Alone, and leaving Mora’s previous victims alone… He doesn’t know what this is supposed to mean for his life, his soul or what have you, and he’s never really considered what happens once his time on the mortal plane is over… That said, he can’t help but be curious about what the Daedra have to offer.

Mordred: He could say Ortega – if he never met him, then maybe he could have lived quietly, safely, instead of being drawn in by how much of a hero Charge is…He wouldn’t have been there for heartbreak, he wouldn’t have cared if anything happened to him or the other heroes… But honestly, he’s not sure he could picture his life without Ortega in it, even as a memory, or an enemy…

Andy: Hmmm, honestly there’s no one she can think of – there haven’t been many individuals who have impacted her negatively, or in ways she would truly regret.

42 How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

Varus: This… is tough. Varus is a little lost on what his end goal is. Living comfortably? Living like a goddamn king? A big, happy and peaceful family? Living a thrilling life of crime and adventure? He’s not sure, but at times he’s very ambitious and stubborn… other’s he’s stubbornly ignoring the passage of time to just do whatever

Mordred: Badly. So badly – he’s consumed by the thought of vengeance, of getting back at them, making them pay… what happens along the way, what happens after, doesn’t matter… or that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Andy: They’ve done the “whatever it takes” thing before and lived to regret it… but times are different when the whole galaxy is at stake, right? Maybe it will be worth it, maybe not… maybe what’s more important is protecting who you can now, instead of trying to justify ruthlessness in the name of some future probability… So, in short, they’re conflicted.

A) Why are you excited about this character?

Varus: He goes through so much growth throughout his story. Not just in the sense that he goes to random thief to a Very Good thief and Also big damn hero, but the way that he goes from Kind of just a drifter and a wanderer on his own, avoiding responsibility, looking out for only himself, to Caring So much about this place he’s found himself in, taking responsibility for others, giving a damn about what happens, and not just cause it gets in his way of a carefree life…

Mordred: ooohhhh man. I love a character I can just shove negative and angry feelings on and Mordred is My Guy for that. He’s also got A LOT of secrets that I’m looking forward to seeing how they all come spilling out and The Consequences for all that.

Andy: A couple things: I like the way their past haunts them, how something that happened offscreen, that they regret, thrust them into this – and there’s that choice, do the easy thing, back to what they did before, or try to save the galaxy without resorting to No Matter the Cost… They’re also a quiet, emotionally walled off character, and I love watching those walls crack around their squad (found family my beloved).

B) What inspired you to create them?

Varus: He’s kind of a combination of factors: the thieves guild questline, the response of the Imperial captain in the intro …and a little bit of Valen Dreth’s comments on an Imperial in oblivion, and my inability to play anything other than a sneaky archer… I also love the reluctant hero archetype and overall, kind of have this image of

Mordred: I mostly just sort of did what felt natural in Fallen Hero, and he sort of formed from that… Somethings though, was like, ah yes, I can project Many Feelings on to this character, possibly to the extent that I was like. Wow I don’t tell my therapist’s shit.

Andy: (answered below)

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Varus: Affection mostly but also… like, a sort of Oh God not this bastard again. He’s my eldest, and tends to be pushy (in the sense that, many things remind me of him, so I often have Varus thoughts and Crave Skyrim, even if I have other OCs or real-life things to attend to).

Mordred: A little bit of uncertainty, curiosity, I want to see where his story goes for the most part, but something I struggle with for him is that… he’s hard for me to be consistent with? I’ll decide he’s One thing (say, a careful strategist), but given an opportunity, it feels more natural to do another (be an impulsive little shit.) and I’m trying to work that into his character… which I think could be interesting at least?

Andy: This… is actually hard to place! Andy was more a practice in refining a character, so… I’m quite proud of how they turned out. I worry a little that I don’t lean into her flaws enough or she’s too boring or sometimes I just don’t know how she’d act in a given situation. They are quite fun to play though.

#oc: andy #oc: mordred #oc: varus #🥺 thank you for the asks <3 #I hope this was not too many words and made sense fkldsjflksajf

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Shmi Skywalker #JangoShmi #Jango Fett #Disaster Lineage #star wars #time travel #de aging #mandalore #mandalorian culture #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #tattoos #original characters #outsider pov #this is part one of three I think #it's two in the diddly darn morning and I am going to bed

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btssaysstudy · 3 years

Text

Cheer || jjk.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader Genre: fluff, cheerleader!yn x athlete!jk (requested by anon) Warning(s): minor swearing, alcohol, drinking games mentioned, college after game parties, reader is a cheer athlete, jungkook plays rugby, stress from expectations WC: ~9.9k (this is the longest I've ever written I hope it doesn't flop!!) Summary: You felt that your cheer team was under-appreciated by certain people — specifically the rugby team that your cheer team supports during their matches. How is it that their star player, Jeon Jungkook, manages to find his way into your life despite having a bad impression of the rugby players? Update (6/8): Made an edit

You always loved being in a team. That would explain why you were where you were. Standing on the mat in the indoor gym with your cheer team on a Friday night. Cheer was beyond exhausting, but you still loved doing it, especially with the team that you got in college. Your coach - a perfectionist - always drilled you guys over the minute details. That would also explain why you were still practicing for something so ‘trivial’ - your opinion, not your coach’s.

Your team was practicing the routine for the rugby team’s qualifying match on Monday. It was a simple routine - as always. Your team didn’t do championship level routines during such events, you were all just there as moral support and being the hype people for the team. All you had to do was cheer with your pom poms, throw in a couple of stunts and the crowd would go wild.

But every event was a chance to get better, to get closer to perfect, according to your coach. And you did not disagree. You just never looked forward to cheering for the rugby team even after all the events. Despite your team always cheering for the football club, you could say you disliked most of them. It always felt as though they didn’t appreciate the moral support and took you guys for granted.

“Might want to look happy, yn.” You heard a playful remark from behind. Jimin, your most trusted base.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Just don’t drop me.”

There was no way you could pull off your stunts if you didn’t have trust in your teammates. And you could say you trusted Jimin with your life - literally. Accidents and mistakes were bound to happen but there was no doubt that you’d be down to try for anything if Jimin was your base.

Not only was Jimin a trustworthy base, but he was also an amazing stunter. His physique was perfect to be an in between, he could pull off both roles. That almost guaranteed him a spot on the mat every time. He was extremely hardworking as well and you’ll always be proud of your best friend making mat. Of course, you wanted to make mat just as badly as the next person.

Last season, you did not make mat and it crushed you. Jimin was there to get you out of your rut and encouraged you to bounce back stronger. Thanks to him, you managed to pick yourself up and train harder for the upcoming nationals. You had never been more determined to make mat.

“Point your toes, I want my flyers looking really perfect.” Your coach yelled over the music. Your coach was a beast, but an effective one, nonetheless. Your team won nationals last season and ready to bag this season as well.

“Alright, that’s all for today. Clean the place up and you guys can go home. Thanks everybody!” Your coach clapped their hands and the team followed suit as everyone got up from the mat and started tidying the place.

“Need a lift?”

“Yes please, you’re the best!” You pulled Jimin in for a tight hug, “Okay, you do this then!” Jimin handed you the empty bottles that he picked up from the ground as he headed off the change first.

You grumbled but took his place in defeat.

—

Big smiles were plastered on your faces as you congratulated the winning team - your college. You best friend nudged you while you waved the team goodbye as they passed by. “Coming to the after party?”

“Wouldn’t miss the free drinks and snacks.”

Jimin snorted, “Obviously.”

Though you did say that it felt like the cheer team was under appreciated, you were always invited to the after parties. Most of you went, mainly for the free drinks and snacks.

You flashed two thumbs up with Jimin as Yoongi passed by. A small smile on his face as he slightly bowed his heads in your direction, acknowledging your cheers.

Through all the after parties, you have been acquainted with one of their star players - Min Yoongi. He was one of the few who hung out in the kitchen to avoid all the party games and the crowd in the general. He disliked the unnecessary glamour and attention that came along with joining the rugby club. You admired his passion for rugby and along with Jimin, the three of you became the trio who hid away from the crowd during the parties.

After the debrief with our coach, your team dispersed to your own places to freshen up for the after party. It was a Friday night, and a good night of drinking was warranted after a tiring week.

You were all lucky your coach was not strict regarding such parties, as long as everyone turned up ready for the following practice.

“Glad to see faces I actually like.” Yoongi commented, handing you two drinks he had already prepared. “You make it sound like you hate everyone on your team.”

“I would say a good majority. I’m actually jealous that your cheer team is so close knit.”

Jimin nudged you after you downed your shot, “Without trust, our stunts won’t fly.”

You nodded your head in agreement, “Probably should get my team to watch your practices to learn a thing about team spirit.” Yoongi scoffed, mostly to himself, knowing that realistically, it would never happen.

The three of you turned your attention to the living room, watching Yoongi’s teammates either play beer pong or trying to find their fling for the night.

“They’re skilled, no doubt. But most of them are here for the popularity. It’s rare to find someone who genuinely likes football too.” Yoongi ranted as you poured himself another shot.

“Is there not a single soul?” Jimin asked, feeling a tinge of pity for his friend who was not experiencing the same level of love for his team as Jimin did for the cheer team.

Yoongi’s eyes scanned across the room, slowly shaking his head before his eyes landed on someone. “Actually, there is— Jungkook!” He raised his hand, shouting over the loud music as he tried to get someone’s attention.

You turned your head to see Jungkook approaching your group. “Jungkook? Really?” You questioned Yoongi. Jungkook was one of the star players as well. It was impossible not to know Jungkook. You could walk down any corridor in campus, and you would hear someone mention his name at least once.

“Hey,” Jungkook greeted Yoongi before his eyes shifted to yours and Jimin’s. “What’s going on?”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, “Just wanted to introduce you to some of the members from cheer.”

“From cheer, huh?” The corner of his lips tugged upwards as his eyes went back to you.

“I figured you won’t recognise us, even though we’ve been at your parties since, well… Basically here every party.” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but it just came out from you. You heard Jimin chuckle from beside you as he draped his arms over you.

“Sorry bud, yn here doesn’t have a good impression of you guys.”

“It’s not like you have a better one.” You bit back at Jimin who just stuck out his tongue at you. “That is true,” He pulled away as he took a drink, “We were actually just bitching about you guys with Yoongi.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in bewilderment, yet he felt amused enough to stay and find out more. “Is that so, Yoongi?”

His teammate nodded his head nonchalantly, “Just sharing the truth. About how most of them are here to be popular. I called you because I know you’re one of the few who actually joined for rugby.”

Jungkook huffed out an amused hum, “Interesting. What are your names again?”

“Yn and Jimin.” Jimin instantly replied, knowing you were probably going to reply with a snarky comment. “Part of the cheer team, like Yoongi said. She’s mainly a flyer and I’m a base and tumbler.”

You watched as his eyes furrowed in confusion, “S-Sorry I don’t know cheer terms.”

“Not surprised.” You let the words slip as you took a sip from your cup. Jungkook’s eyes looked at you, a hint of challenge and interest on his expression.

“If you have something against me, let’s hear it.”

“Don’t take it personally, Jungkook.” You reached out to give a light pat on his right chest. “I had a bad impression on Yoongi as well.”

With that, Yoongi sighed, nodding his head in the back. “It’s a miracle she likes me now.”

“Well, why don’t you give me a chance to change that impression then?” The left corner of his lip rose a playful look on his face as he challenged you.

It could be the alcohol or could be the loud music that made you disoriented. Nonetheless, you reached out your hand for a handshake, “You’ve got one chance.”

Jimin and Yoongi left the kitchen to enjoy their own time together. You had an inkling that something was stirring between them, but you decided to let them be as you were left alone with Jungkook in the kitchen.

“So, yn,” Jungkook shifted in the high stool, leaning on his right elbow, his attention focused on you. “Care to explain why you seem to hate my team so badly?”

“Buckle your seatbelts, Jeon.” You teased as you reached out for your drink. You watched his attention eyes fixated on yours as he waited for your answer. “I dislike your team because it feels we don’t get the appreciation I feel we rightfully deserve. We’re always there for your plays, even for your friendlies. The support just feels one sided and to me it sucks when we put in a lot for our routines as well.”

You watched him slowly nod his head in understanding, his body leaning backwards as he internalised your words. “I have to admit. I never really paused to think about your cheer team. I mean your outfits and pom poms are cute and all— “

Pointing your finger at him, you interrupted, “Exactly, we’re not just cute outfits and pom poms. We only use the cheesy pom poms for your matches to make the crowd all hyped up. Do you even know we have our own competition as well?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, “Of course I do. Just never watched one.”

You let out a short, dry laugh, “It’s okay. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Jungkook frowned, noting the dejected tone laced in your laugh and words as you tried to dismiss it. As an athlete himself, he knew how dejecting it must feel that support was one sided or lacking.

“Hey,” He placed the cup on the counter, “Why don’t you educate me? I’d like to know more.”

You smiled, “You’re pretty good at changing your first impression. You’re working really hard.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No no, I mean it. It’s not just about changing your opinion of me. Tell me about cheer.”

You paused momentarily, recognising the sincerity in his voice as his gaze stayed on you. You knew he was serious about wanting to know more. It was as though the wall you placed between the two seemed to falter, a very minuscule crack forming on the wall.

“Jungkook!” A random college student hollered for his attention, “Come play beer pong with us!” You watched in amusement as you read their body language. They were clearly flirting with Jungkook and calling for his attention.

“Duty calls?”

Jungkook shook his head, “I’ll pass!”

“We can save this talk for another time, you can go— “

“Just to clear things up,” Jungkook turned back to you, “I’m not a fuckboy.”

You choked on air from his sudden defence statement, “I-I didn’t s-say you were— “

“Didn’t have to,” He said with a light smile on his face, “But I expected it too. Comes with the popularity I guess.” “So, you don’t…?” You trailed off and he shook his head, as if he was completely appalled by the sheer thought of being a fuckboy. “No, no. I don’t see the point in flings. Like Yoongi said, I’m here for rugby. Not to find dates.”

It felt as if another crack in the wall was formed after learning that fact. Like how Yoongi managed to break down the wall between you and him a few games ago.

Maybe not all jocks were bad.

“Anyway,” Jungkook pulled you back from your thoughts, “Educate me.”

You began sharing how was practice like, the different roles people were and how strict your coach was. You explained how you were always at the gym on the days you didn’t have training. You always got passionate when you talked about cheer and Jungkook experienced it first-hand. He watched how your face immediately lit up when he asked you to share about the sport. He was sure that even a person with zero interest with cheer would be completely drawn to hear you share about it with how enthusiastic you were.

“We currently have training three times a week since nationals are coming. We practice from late afternoon to almost midnight sometimes.” You paused, a sheepish grin creeping on your face as you realised you had been rambling on about your sport. “I-I’m sorry, I must’ve bored you to death.”

“No, no!” He immediately shook his head, hands out in front shaking as well in protest, “I wasn’t bored. I was really interested. I can tell how much you love cheer though.”

“Y-Yea I really do. Always good to find something to distract you especially during college.”

He nodded his head, “Can’t argue with that.” He raised his plastic cup in his hand, “Cheers to distractions.”

“Cheers,” You laughed, raising your cup towards his.

You could say you clicked well with Jungkook that night. In fact, you guys shared a lot about each other’s sport that you didn’t exchange numbers or any form of communication afterwards. It didn’t bug you so much since you figured it was a one-off conversation with him.

To be frank, you almost forgot that you talked with Jungkook that party. Jimin was the one who reminded you, asking about how he was and if you still hated jocks.

“He’s not bad, actually.”

“Of course, that’s why Yoongi actually likes him.” You raised an eyebrow suspiciously, leaning towards Jimin, “Speaking of Yoongi, how are things between you two?”

Your friend snorted, dismissing you with his hand, “What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on. We’re just friendly.”

“For now?”

Jimin shrugged, “We’ll see how it goes.” He gives you a wink before getting up, extending his hand out as an offer to pull you up. “Back on the mat.”

Training went on until 11pm, it was full of drills as soon your coach would be picking who will make mat for nationals. Everyone had to give it their all during practice as you were all constantly being scrutinised by your coach, your attitude, skills, and stamina. You had been training your stunts with Jimin after he managed to pull you back up from your sulking phase. Everything was important.

You separated from Jimin after practice as you made your way to the bus stop to head home. “Yn? Is that you?”

A very familiar honey-like voice.

Jungkook slowly made his way to the bus stop, “What are you doing here at campus so late?” You asked.

“I was studying. Just ended practice?”

“Yea.”

Jungkook glanced at his watch, “Wanna grab a midnight snack?”

You smiled, “Sure.”

“How does ice cream sound?”

“I’m down.”

There was a small ice cream store near campus and luckily, you managed to catch the last order. The both of you enjoyed your slow late night stroll back to the bus stop as you strikes up a conversation with him.

“I realised I was the only one talking about my sport that night. How about you share about rugby? I actually don’t know much about it.”

“You sure?” Jungkook asked, slightly shocked that you had brought up his sport. “Because I can get carried away when I talk about it—“

You laughed, “I’m sure Jungkook. Fire away.”

Jungkook started sharing the rules and positions of rugby - “I’m number 11, one of the wings” You looked at him, already confused with the terms. With a short chuckle, he explained, “I’m one of the backs. We do the running and scoring. Sometimes, we have to knock people down in our way.”

He continued sharing his training schedule as well - how his team similarly had gym sessions on non-training days just like cheer. The only difference was that the rugby team had a gym off campus.

“Sounds fancy.”

“It’s pretty fancy.” He nodded his head letting out an airy laugh.

“Rubgy doesn’t sound too bad now that I know how it works.”

“You could watch one of our matches or practices when you guys aren’t cheering for us.”

“Why not.”

—

“Guess who I see?” Jimin whispered, nudging you out of your focus. You looked up, placing your dumbbells down, “Where are you looking at?”

“6 o’clock.” He muttered as he sneakily stole your dumbbells to do his set while you turned around to spot Jungkook who had just entered the gym.

You were surprised to see Jungkook and his teammates at the gym. Yoongi was the first one who spotted you. He sent a small smile, raising his hand for a short wave in your direction.

“Hey thief,” You nudged Jimin back, “Yoongi is here too.”

“I know, that’s why I stole your dumbbells.” You chuckled, smacking his toned arms upon learning his tactic.

You watched Yoongi talk to Jungkook, seemingly informing him that you were there as Jungkook turned his body around, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled, sending a hello with your hand to which he returned.

Seeing that you were unoccupied, since Jimin stole your dumbbells, Jungkook made his way to you. “What happened to your almighty external gym?”

He shrugged with a bright smile, “After hearing you hype up the campus gym so much the other night, I thought, why not give it a shot?”

You shook your head with a chuckle, clearly not believing his words. “If that’s the case, enjoy the campus gym!” You reached out to pat his broad shoulders before turning back to resume your gym session.

“Are you done with your set yet?” You questioned Jimin who stood right back up with a grin, “Was he watching me?”

Taking the dumbbells from his hands, you shrugged, “Doubt it.”

“Yea right.” Jimin scoffed, stepping aside to give you more space.

Your gym session lasted an hour as usual, ensuring that you don’t over-work your body as well since your coach was going to be choosing the final 20 soon.

Whenever you weren’t studying or training, you were stressing over whether you’ll make mat. And it was evident on your face. You heard a sigh coming from Jimin, “Don’t stress over it too much. You’ve been working extra hard this season, I’m confident you’ll make it.”

You responded with a weak smile, “Thanks Jimin, I really hope so.”

“Me too, but what you need is to stop thinking about it right now. Go get a distraction for tonight. Tomorrow’s training is going to be torturous.”

“When isn’t it?” You joked, “Touché.”

You packed your gym bag with Jimin, ready to leave and wind down for the day. Jimin was right, you needed a distraction - maybe a Netflix movie, or do some yoga to de-stress, or do a sheet mask —

“Jimin, yn!” You heard Yoongi holler out your names as you walked away from the campus gym.

“Yoongi, what’s up?”

Yoongi walked up to the both of you, accompanied by Jungkook.

“We just ended our session, was thinking if you wanted to grab dinner together?”

“Sure! Yn here,” Jimin laces his arm around yours as he pulled you closer to him, “needs a distraction ASAP.”

“A distraction?” Jungkook asked, looking at you for a response.

“From worrying about making mat.”

Yoongi chuckled, “Jungkook doesn’t know cheer lingo— “

“Oh no,” He shook his head, “I know what that means.”

“You do?!” Yoongi and Jimin asked incredulously.

“I gave him a lecture about cheer during that after party.” You answered and Jimin laughed, “Right! I forgot about your granny lecture.”

You scoffed defensively, “I-I mean he could’ve stopped be any time he was bored— “

“Because I wasn’t. It’s refreshing seeing people be so passionate about something, especially during college.” You returned the smile, the more you interacted with Jungkook, the more you could see why Yoongi kept Jungkook in his small circle of friends.

If there was anything the four of you had in common, it was your passion for your sport.

“I know a great place we can eat at.” Yoongi suggested. The four of you headed over to Yoongi’s go-to restaurants after his workout sessions. As the food started to come to your table, Yoongi and Jimin were caught up with some music competition show that you did not keep up with.

“So how has cheer been?” Jungkook’s voice pulled your attention towards him. “Fun but tiring as usual. Our coach is selecting who will make it to the final 20 for the nationals.” You sighed, anxiousness clearly evident in your tone and on your face.

“Hey, from an athlete to another, I know you’ve trained very hard, and I’ll be rooting for you to make it to the final 20.”

You weren’t sure why, but it felt comforting to hear those words from Jungkook. It felt different than when Jimin would cheer you up. You quickly decided that it was because you were praised by one of the star players of the rugby team. It felt great being acknowledged by someone out of the cheer world.

So, you decided to go with that explanation.

“Thanks, Jungkook, I hope I do. But you technically don’t know whether I’ve trained hard since you’ve never seen me practice.”

“That is true.” He simply grinned at you, “But I just know.”

“You have so much faith in me, Jungkook.” You teased.

He placed his forearms on the table, leaning on them to bring himself slightly close to you, “I have lots of faith in you.”

—

You weren’t stupid and you weren’t blind either. You and Jimin have been spotting Jungkook and Yoongi loitering around the indoor gym lately.

“Did you see them?” Jimin tossed you your newly refilled bottle, “I haven’t left the gym. They’re here again? It’s like 10pm.”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders, “Yoongi was napping on the table though. Looks like Jungkook was the only one actually studying.”

Jungkook never mentioned to you that he stayed back in campus to revise. Though, you barely talked to him since you never exchanged numbers. Every time you had a conversation with him, you both would get too swept up in the conversation that it never occurred to either of you that it was the 21st century and you could talk with your phones.

Training ended an hour later, and you did not expect them to still be outside ‘studying’.

“You guys are still studying?” Jimin called out as you both approached them, Jungkook’s head shot up almost instantly, his eyes finding yours, a bright smile on his face despite his tired eyes from revision. “What a coincidence seeing you here.”

You raised your eyebrows questioningly, “Here,” You looked around with your hands gesturing to the area, “Right outside the indoor gym, with no fan or AC.”

“Yes, here.” He insisted.

Yoongi sighed, finally waking up from his nap. “What’s with the commotion— Oh, you guys are finally done with practice.” He got up and grabbed his bags, “Jimin, need a lift?”

“Yes please!” Jimin nodded his head, giving you a quick goodbye hug before heading off with Yoongi, leaving you alone with Jungkook.

“Guess I can’t judge your preference for a study location.” You made your way to him as he packed up his belongings. “I kinda feel bad for you that Yoongi ditched you.”

Jungkook shook his head with a smile, “He was meant to ditch me anyway. I was waiting to see you.”

You felt yourself momentarily pause; an inhale stuck halfway as you processed his words. He waited to see me. You thought, your brain trying to find an explanation for that.

“I realised we haven’t exchanged numbers even after all this time.” He continued when he didn’t get a response.

“O-Oh right, here,” You reached for your phone in your bag, handing it to Jungkook. “I’ll drop you message.”

Jungkook didn’t take your phone immediately, his eyes locked on your face, as if he was shocked that you didn’t mind exchanging numbers, his hand reached for your phone, gently brushing against your fingers, sending a fluttery feeling in your way.

Once he added his contact, he returned your phone, “It’s 11pm, do you have a ride home?”

“I usually just take the bus.”

“I have a car. Let me take you home.”

“Oh no,” You shook your head, “You don’t have to really, I’m used to taking the bus— “

“But I’m already here anyway, come on, do you not trust my driving skills?” He joked and you let out an airy laugh, “Alright fine. I owe you one.”

“Nah, you already gave me your number.” He winked at you, throwing his bag over his shoulder, leading the way to the carpark with you slightly stunned from his flirtatious remarks.

The care ride with Jungkook was comfortable, slightly tense on your end at the start. Jungkook gave you the cable to play whatever music you wanted which made you slightly more comfortable. “I don’t know if we have the same music taste— “

“It’s alright, just play whatever you want.”

“O-Okay…”

Surprisingly, you and Jungkook didn’t have that much of a difference in differing taste, there were some songs that he didn’t know but found himself liking it. He himself was shocked to learn that you had similar taste in music.

Jungkook didn’t know why he felt so nervous having you in his car and driving you home. It was not like you were getting married. But why did he feel so nervous? Jungkook rarely flirted or showed interest in someone. His love was rugby - his sport - his life. He poured his heart and soul into the sport. But with you, he found that he couldn’t help flirting with you. It felt natural - It felt right.

Ironically, or maybe not, as he drove you home that night, Jungkook knew deep down, he was in it for the long ride.

—

Jimin held your hands tightly as you kept your eyelids shut. You could feel that your heart was about to jump out of your chest as you sat on the mat with Jimin, waiting for your coach to call out all the 20 names. It almost felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your head, the suspense and dragging was killing you.

Your hands clammy in Jimin’s but you did not have a single care as all you wanted in that moment was to make it to nationals.

“Jimin.”

You gasped, pulling Jimin in for a tight hug as he yelled in excitement. You were proud of your best friend; you knew that he would make mat and he deserved it.

Names were called and there were only 5 names left to be called, you grip on Jimin’s hands slackened as you started to accept that you won’t make it—

“Yn.”

You ears rang and you thought you were about to go deaf. Jimin’s loud but happy scream stunned you as you were pulled in for a suffocating hug this time.

The last 4 names were called and the final 20 had been made (subject to change).

Tears welled up in your eyes as memories of your gruelling training flashed through your mind. All the tiring practices and extra trainings with Jimin, the hardships and discipline all paid off.

Training went swimmingly, your coach running through sections of the choreography until it was time to wrap up. “Didn’t have the time to properly congratulate you.” Jimin said with a bright proud grin on his face as you left the gym.

“Thanks, Jimin! Hopefully we can stay on the 20 and compete together.”

“I’m confident we will.”

His eyes shifted away from you, and you followed his gaze to see Jungkook outside, once again, studying, alone this time. “Where’s Yoongi?” You asked as you both approached him.

“He gave up studying with me. Probably went home to crash after our practice today.”

Jimin eyed Jungkook’s facial expression suspiciously, eyes darting between you and Jungkook before he spoke, “I’m going book a ride and head home first yea? Text me when you’re home.” Jimin gives your shoulder a good squeeze before saying bye to you and Jungkook.

“What’s with the big smile on your face?” Jungkook questioned as he started packing his belongings. Your smile was contagious and Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as well as soon as he saw your bright expression.

“I got into the top 20!”

You squared like a little girl, once again excited from the thought of making it this season.

Jungkook abruptly stopped gathering his stuff, stepping away from the table, “Really? Congrats, yn!” He pulled you in for a hug which made your muscles stiffen but your arms automatically wrapped around him.

“I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, Jungkook.” You chuckled as you pulled away from the embrace. Your mind was clouded, filled with a mixture of thoughts of making it to the Top 20 and how warm that hug felt. How it felt so ‘right’.

Over the past few weeks, it had become a routine, to have Jungkook studying outside the indoor gym and drive you home after practice. You always told him he didn’t need to send you home, but he never listened.

“Our qualifying match is next Friday, if we win, there’ll be an after party, are you free to come?”

“For the after party?”

“Yea, I mean, technically your whole cheer team usually come but since your nationals are coming, I’m assuming you would be too busy to come.”

“No no, I’ll come.”

“You will?” Jungkook’s face lit up and a bubbling feeling grew in your chest as you tried to ignore it. “Yea I will.”

—

Since Jungkook had his qualifying match around the corner, you stopped seeing him late at night outside the gym. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you missed seeing him after your practice.

Nonetheless, you would still spend the night texting him right before bed. It felt so easy to converse with him and you always looked forward to hear stories about his rugby practice and it felt nice to share about your cheer practice to him.

Friday quickly arrived and you decided to watch his match since the game was on your campus grounds. You took a seat somewhere in the middle of the bleachers and your eyes scanned the field to find Jungkook.

You recalled him explaining the positions of the backs and you found his number - 11. A smile crept unto your face as your eyes fixated on Jungkook. Your facial expression always scrunched up into a wince whenever you see them tackle each other during the game. You would let out a hiss as if you were the one sliding against the grass as Jungkook scored a point.

Nonetheless, it was fascinating to actually watch the game. Not surprisingly, after you understood the rules of the game, it was exciting to root for your college’s team. Maybe it was because you were rooting for a particular player, but you wouldn’t admit that to yourself just yet.

During half-time, your college’s team made their way back to the benches which was in front of where you sat. You didn’t bother shouting for his attention since you knew it was important to stay in the zone.

You sat at your spot, watching him, and you almost felt like a stalker. He was drenched in sweat, definitely going to have bruises or scratches from the game, you could see his chest move up and down as he took deep breaths to relax.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat when he had looked up and found your eyes amongst the crowd. Jungkook had been casually looking around the crowd to see if you really did come to watch his game.

He had texted you the night before about how he hoped you could come see his game now that you know how it actually worked. You told him no promises but had made sure you were free the afternoon to attend his game. Of course, you didn’t tell him that.

In an instant, his serious gaze broke into an inviting smile as he mouthed the words “hey” at your direction. You smiled back, returning the greeting while you hoped no one caught that moment between the two of you.

His coach called for their attention to remind them of their game plan but Jungkook was having a battle in his mind. The image of you smiling at the bleachers stayed as he tried to listen to his coach’s words. He knew the game plan, he was always on top the game. But seeing you watching him from the bleachers made him feel giddy but at least he also motivated him to do extra well. He wanted to look good in front of you.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He sent you text to wait for him to freshen up and you sat at your spot, enjoying the breeze as you waited for him to come back from his shower.

“You actually came.”

You looked up from your phone to see a wet-haired Jungkook approaching you with a lopsided grin. “Wanted to give support especially after all the times you sent me home after practice.”

Your phone vibrated as Jimin spammed you with messages when you stopped replying. Jimin had been asking about your whereabouts and you told him you were at the rugby game. He was upset since he would have tagged along to watch Yoongi if he knew you were going.

“Where’s Yoongi?”

Jungkook gestured with his thumb behind him, “Still showering. Is Jimin here?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “He didn’t know I was coming to watch. I think he’ll attack me later at the party.”

“Sounds like a fun match to see.” He joked and you scoffed, “I’ll beat Jimin easily.”

“I’m sure, I’ll always be rooting for you.”

It sounded like another tease but his words caused nervous knots in your stomach. You deliberately ignored the feeling as you walked down the bleachers to his side, “Shall we get Yoongi and Jimin?”

“Yep, text me his address. We’ll pick him up once Yoongi is ready to go.”

Get ready, Jungkook’s picking you up - yn

I already look good, always ready - Jimin

Yoongi didn’t take long to come out of the showers and the three of you made your way in Jungkook’s car to pick Jimin up, all ready for the after party.

“I haven’t had dinner so I am ready for all the food.” Jimin groaned, clutching his stomach as he hopped off the car.

The four of you made your way up the driveway to see that the after party had started even earlier. “Looks like everyone couldn’t wait to party.” Yoongi commented as you entered through the main door, the loud typical party music blasting through the house.

It wasn’t a very packed party, lesser than the usual after parties but still plenty of people nonetheless.

There were already different groups engaging in different activities - gossiping, flirting, beer pong, truth or dare, Mario Kart and many more.

“Yn, you hungry? I heard Woohyun baked pasta for tonight.” Yoongi gestured to the kitchen. Before you could reply, Jungkook added on, “Someone’s barbecuing in the backyard though.”

“Barbecue?” You repeated, “Sounds delicious.” You turned your head back to Yoongi, “I’ll follow you guys after!”

Yoongi and Jimin made their way to the kitchen while you and Jungkook headed over to start your night with barbecue.

At the backyard, there was a swimming pool with a small lawn where the barbecue was. The two of you made your way to the table with the cooked food, helping yourself to dinner.

“This tastes amazing.” You moaned in delight after the first bite.

Jungkook laughed, “Come on,” He took an empty plate and grabbed a handful of barbecue sticks and kebabs, leading the way to the other side of the pool with one empty lounge chair.

You shared the plastic lounge chair, sitting beside Jungkook as you shared the plate. “So, how was my game?”

“To be honest,” You cleared your throat, “More interesting now that I know the game.”

He grinned like a happy high school boy, “That’s great to hear! Maybe you can watch more of my games or practices when you have the time.”

“We’ll see about that.” You teased, grabbing another stick to feed yourself.

“So, how’s your prep for nationals?”

“Tiring, one of our flyers got a concussion after a bad fall last night so she’s temporarily replaced. Our pyramid’s a mess.”

Jungkook lightly nudged your shoulders, “I’m sure it’ll turn out well. You guys are the defending champions.”

“I hope we can defend it this season.”

“Gotta think positively.” He winked at you and you returned a small smile. Silence fell upon you two as you noticed the lack of personal space between the both of you. It felt comfortable yet nerve-racking to be so close to him.

Was he uncomfortable with the closeness? Should you move away?

Just as you were about to scoot away, he spoke. “I’m really glad you came to my match tonight. It felt different.” He admitted rather shyly as his gaze dropped to the half empty plate.

“Different?”

Jungkook nodded his head, “Felt nice knowing there’s someone out there rooting for me.”

“There were lots of people rooting out for you.”

“Yea but, someone out there that I really want to impress.”

You didn’t have a reply, you weren’t sure how to reply. You decided to opt for a small encouraging pat on his shoulder before retracting your hand.

It didn’t seem much from an outsider’s perspective, but his words held a lot of weight. For the both of you. Almost as if you were about to cross a line - some line that you weren’t sure if you’re both ready to cross.

“Well,” He cleared his throat, standing up, “Shall we go find the two?”

“S-Sure.”

The two of you entered through the back door and was immediately blocked by his fellow team player, handing both of you a bottle of soju. “Gotta help us finish these, Jeon. Someone,” his eyes darted to another team player, “Accidentally ordered twice our usual order.”

“Damn.” Jungkook laughed in disbelief, “I’ll pull my weight then.”

“Great! You know what’s a perfect game for that? Spin the Bottle! You guys wanna play?”

Jungkook’s gaze darted to yours as you hesitated to reply.

“Come on Jeon, you always reject our games. Just this once, yea?”

He sighed, “A-Alright sure. Yn?”

You shook your head, “I’ll pass. Go have fun.” You patted his back as you excused yourself to the kitchen. There was a sour feeling knowing that Jungkook agreed to play Spin the Bottle, you avoided looking at the circle at the living area as you went to find Yoongi and Jimin guarding the snacks.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“Spin the Bottle.” You plopped yourself down beside Jimin, chugging the soju bottle in your hand.

“Someone sounds affected.” Jimin teased, handing you a plate of pasta.

“No one’s affected.” You defended yourself as you grabbed a fork to eat the pasta, ignoring the feeling in your chest.

You had almost completely forgotten about Spin the Bottle as the three of you went on to talk about other things. You were laughing and enjoying your night with the two until you heard the familiar voice that made your muscles freeze.

“Any pasta left for me?”

You turned to look at Jungkook, “Enjoyed the game?”

“Pretty interesting,” He started and you immediately wanted to shut his voice out, “But would’ve been fun if you were in the game.” He winked at you before he took a plate for himself, acting as if he hadn’t said those words. You saw the empty soju bottle that he placed on the counter top and figured it was the alcohol talking so you decided to brush it off. It was probably the alcohol making him say such a brave statement in front of your friends.

Would something have happened if you agreed to play the game?

—

You realised that maybe he did decide to be more brave.

He started sitting in the gymnasium to watch your practices. Jimin would always inform you when he spotted Jungkook, insisting that he was here to watch you. Though you constantly denied, because you knew he knew a few of you guys from all the parties.

Somehow, you always felt his eyes were locked on you - his attention never leaving you no matter how chaotic the mat got. Every fall, every success, every break. You just knew he was looking at you.

The first practice you realised he was there, you approached him after practice ended.

“Hey Jungkook!”

“Why are you here?”

“Am I that unwanted? Looks like only Jimin is glad to see me here.”

“N-No,” You were caught off-guard, “I was just wondering—“

“I know, I’m kidding.” Jungkook chuckled, getting up from the bench, hopping down to stand right in front of you. “You came to my game, and I want to come see your practices. I haven’t actually seen how serious cheer can be.”

You hummed, “Alright then.” You tossed your damp towel over your shoulder. Jungkook reached out, “Let me take your bag. I saw how tiring practice was.”

“Jungkook it’s fine—“

“And you fell from that pyramid a couple of times. You better ice that bruise.” He pointed to the bruise on your shin. You had gotten the bruise when you knocked it against one of your teammate’s foot when you had fallen off the pyramid.

He had successfully snatched your duffel bag when you were distracted by the bruise on your shin. “Jungkook—“

“Come on, let the guy be a gentleman.” Jimin nudged your sides and you shot a light glare his way. “I already booked a ride and it’s here so I’ll head home first. Text me when you’re home, yea?” Jimin patted your shoulder before jogging off.

During the ride home, Jungkook shared how in awe he was during your practice. “I felt that same way watching your game too.” You admitted.

“I’m definitely watching nationals with Yoongi.”

“You don’t have to—“

“But I want to! I’m coming.”

Over the weeks, you learned even more about Jungkook.

Firstly, Jungkook was a really thoughtful individual.

He also loved going the extra mile. You knew his rugby training schedule since he shared it before. So you knew he was watching your late night sessions after his tiring ones on some days, yet still sat through all the way.

He didn’t attend all practices, but he didn’t have to. You always appreciated the times he came to watch and you made it a point to watch his trainings as well when you had nothing on.

Secondly, Jungkook was one of the most hardworking and disciplined individuals that you have met.

Every footwork drill, punishment or endurance runs, he took it seriously. He always gave it his 110%. Even when you knew he was near his limit, he never slacked.

Thirdly, Jungkook was cute when he was in the zone.

His eyebrows always scrunched together, sometimes he would bite his lip for extra concentration. He would whisper to himself after his attempts or runs, possibly correcting himself or encouraging himself.

You knew he was his harshest critic. You could see it in his training etiquette.

From an athlete to another, Jungkook was a very respectable athlete - in both fitness and character.

Eventually, this became routine between the both of you. You would watch each other’s practices whenever you had the time. Jimin and Yoongi had gotten used to the scene as well.

Both would tease the both of you separately, “Look who’s here.”

“Shut up.” You both would say to them, trying to fight the smile that wanted to break through.

“You know, people will start thinking that we’re dating.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad thing, now would it?” Jungkook tilted his head, a cheeky grin on his face as he tossed you a cold unopened bottle of water. His reply sent your heart fluttering. He knew his way with words.

“It’ll kill your popularity with the public. Everyone will lose hope and stop pining after you.” You said dramatically after taking a big gulp of the refreshing water.

“Still don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“You know, you’re a real flirt Jeon Jungkook.”

He grinned cheekily, “Only when I want to.”

He definitely knew his way with words, and possibly, his way to your heart.

—

Jungkook started asking you out for lunch and dinner over the weeks, including the weekends. It was refreshing seeing you two not dripping in sweat from training. And he cleaned up well.

Although the rugby finals and cheer nationals were just around the corner, you both tried to find spare time to hang out. It felt like a stress-reliever. You both needed it. Jungkook knew he needed and wanted it. He always wanted to see you.

You were both at an open field, lying next to each other, bodies facing up as you enjoyed the night sky. Silence engulfed the both of you as you relished the tranquility of the night.

With hectic schedules, you appreciated times like this when you didn’t have to think about something so serious like competitions and expectations.

You were grateful that you made it to the Final 20 but it was still stressful knowing that there are high expectations for your team to defend your title.

It was the same for Jungkook.

“This feels great, doesn’t it?” He was the first to break the silence.

You turned just your head to admire his side profile as his eyes remained glue to the starry night.

“It does.”

Jungkook paused before continuing the conversation, “You know, I didn’t actually play Spin the Bottle that night. I just drank every time it was me, just wanted to please Woohyun.”

Confused, you weren’t sure why Jungkook had brought that up out of the blue. “Why are you—”

“I just wanted you to know. Felt like you had to know.” He shrugged his shoulders, pressing his lips into a tight line. “Didn’t want to send mix signals.”

“Mix signals?” You turned around, lying on top of your stomach as you got up on your forearms. You had a hunch of where this conversation was heading, but you didn’t like to be one making assumptions. Jungkook turned his head to face you, “I’m into you. I always like being with you and I hope you feel the same way.”

Nothing came out of your mouth. You were stunned by his sudden confession. Your eyes remained on his face as he kept a soft smile, with not a single ounce of regret on his face.

“I… I like being with you too.” You replied shyly, shuffling back down to lie down on your back next to him, not daring to make eye contact.

Next to you, Jungkook let out a short chuckle. He decided not to push it for that night. But it was enough to know that things were going right between the two of you.

“I never shared this with anyone but, sometimes, I do feel like quitting rugby.”

You were taken aback by his sudden change in topic but didn't to roll with it

“Why?”

He took a while to respond, formulating his thoughts into sentences. “The expectations get too much sometimes, especially as one of the labelled star players.” He scoffed, as if he was laughing at the term, or himself.

“I’m sure as the Final 20 in cheer you feel that expectation as well.”

You didn’t give a verbal reply, only nodding your head as you turned your head back to face up to the sky.

Jungkook didn’t need a verbal reply, he knew you felt the same.

“It’s suffocating. But right now, I feel like I can take a deep long breath, and not worry about making a mistake or slowing down.”

Just as he said that, he took a deep inhale, letting out his breath through is mouth.

“That felt good to let out. I never wanted to share this with others because I’m afraid they’ll think that I’m taking my position and skills for granted.”

“Yea I get what you’re saying.” You assured him and he smiled, turning his head to face you. You heard the shuffling sounds and you decided to face him as well, momentarily freezing when your eyes finally met his.

“But it feels like I can talk to you about anything. It feels nice to talk to you, yn.”

You were once again lost for words, feeling your cheeks grow hot as your eyes remained locked in his gaze.

“I feel safe with you.”

—

It was the final championship match for rugby. Your cheer team was once again there, to root for your college - you and Jimin were specifically rooting for Yoongi and Jungkook.

The whole venue was excruciatingly loud and tense. Both colleges with great support backing them. The match was very close and you could tell how they seemed more tired than other games. The nerves and the physical demand was getting to them.

Your coach yelled, calling their hands to get your attention. “Come on guys, time to boost their morale”

With your pom poms in your hands, your cheer team gathered, facing your side of the bleachers, enthusiastically cheering the campus cheers and getting the crowd to join in.

It was followed by simply stunts and routines to get the atmosphere more lively and ready for the game to resume.

As the players passed by your team, you all wished them good luck.

“Good luck, Yoongi!”

“Good luck, Jungkook!” You exclaimed encouragingly, shaking both your pom poms his way as he turned around to see you. He winked at you, mouthing the words ‘thank you’ before they made their way to the field.

“You’re drooling.”

Jimin’s voice taunted you from the side, You elbowed his side, “You’re doing the same.”

“Touche.”

As the timer reaches the end, your side erupted in the loudest of cheers, you happily screaming along with the crowd. This win felt different from all the different times your cheer team supported them. Your college managed to defend their title, winning the championship for the season.

When the players returned to the benches and huddled for a group photo together, Jimin whispered, “Why don’t you go up and congratulate him?”

“Hush, Jimin, not in front of everyone.”

“Come on, don’t be shy. I know you like him.”

“We’re just close friends.”

Jimin scoffed, his index finger pointing to you and himself, “You and I are close friends. You and Jungkook however, are idiots who don’t want to admit that you guys like each other.”

“Shut it!” You sighed, lightly hitting him with your pom poms. When you turned around, Jungkook had already made his way to you. “You were cheering really hard back there.”

“Just for you.”

Just for me?” He raised his eyebrows, a smug look on his face as he stepped closer, “Yoongi’s gonna be devastated knowing that—“

“Actually my cheers were for Yoongi but I didn’t want you to feel upset or forgotten.”

Jungkook frowned and you really wished you had the guts to just kiss him right there, your eyes flickering to his pink soft lips.

“I’m kidding, don’t cry, not when you just became a champion.”

Jungkook laughed heartily before leaning towards your ear, “I’m already a champion having you on my side to cheer me on.”

—

Attention immediately shifted to your team for the upcoming nationals which was just a week after Jungkook’s finals.

You guys had constant past few runs leading up to the final day and everything felt like it would go well. The biggest obstacle was controlling your mental state during the day itself.

The night before, Jungkook had sent you a lengthy good luck message as he reminded you that he would be there.

You slept peacefully that night and woke up to read his message in the morning once again. You had your own cheerleader this time.

Everything seemed to go by quickly, the warm ups and runs backstage while waiting for your team’s turn. You had not met Jungkook or Yoongi since you were preparing backstage with your team, focused on getting into the right mental state.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when it was finally your team’s turn to perform.

The sun was scorching hot and there were many spectators. You stood in formation with your teammates as you waited for the song to play.

It felt way different than last season. Even though you were there last season to support the performing team, it truly felt different to be the one about to perform on the mat. With all eyes on you, carefully watching for any mistakes or mishaps. The heat already making you sweat when you stepped onto the stage.

But once the music played, that was all you could focus on.

Bright smiles plastered on all your faces as you went through the routine. A silent celebration in your head every time your team successfully pulled off a stunt.

Quick gazes made on the mat as you constantly changed formation. Encouraging looks and the sounds of the encouragement on the mat from your teammates to get you through the routine.

And just like that - it was your ending pose. Heavy pants surrounding you as your gaze locked on the audience. You all broke character afterwards, squealing and hugging each other for not screwing up the pyramid and the routine.

It felt good.

In fact, it felt amazing.

Jimin yelled your name, pulling you in for a tight hug, “We did it!”

“I know!”

Once all the teams had finished, the top 2 teams were announced and your college name was called out.

In front of the entire crowd, you hold intertwined your hands, head hung low and eyes shut right as you awaited for the results. The cheerleader holding the 2nd prize trophy walked back and forth between the two college teams as the announcer evilly drags on the result.

Your heartbeat was pounding loudly and you could feel it in your head, all your hands clasped together were clammy from nervous sweat.

Jungkook’s hopefully eyes stayed locked on your figure as he waited for announcements from the crowd.

The other college was called and your entre team’s knees went weak, buckling as some immediately fell to the ground.

Deafening screams erupted as you were pulled into a big group hug, you guys had just defended your title.

Your team was the reigning national champion once again.

Tears were falling as everyone congratuler each other. Your coach and assistant coach ran up to mat to join the group hug as your team proudly accepted the winning trophy.

You had made your way off the stag to reunite with the other cheer members as the public slowly started to approach you for a team photo.

With tears all over your faces, you posed for the group photos as thanked all your teammates with a big hug.

“Yn!”

You heard his voice amongst the chaos.

You felt yourself immediately searching for the familiar pair of eyes in the crowd. The moment your eyes landed on him, you rushed up towards him, his arms wide open ready to accept you.

Jungkook pulled you in for tight embrace, repeatedly saying “congrats, you did it, I know you guys would win”. Tears flowed down your face once again still not believing what had just happened.

It felt so surreal and yet being in Jungkook’s embrace felt even more surreal. It was as if you were in a dream.

“Congrats yn!” You heard Yoongi’s voice from behind Jungkook.

You pulled away to see not only Yoongi but the entire rugby team with him. They were cheering proudly, chanting your college’s name with pride. Your eyes immediately farted back to Jungkook who had kept his arms around you.

“Did you…?”

“Yes, I convinced everyone to come. They’d be missing on such a stellar performance.”

As if your grin couldn’t get any bigger, your broke into a euphoric laugh, “You’re amazing.”

“You’re calling me amazing? After what your team had just displayed back there? You must be blind—“

Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, the high influx of dopamine from winning the competition and from being in his embrace. It didn’t matter, when your lips met his, you knew that was all that mattered at that moment.

You felt Jungkook lean into the kiss, his arms pulling you closer to his body. Both of you could hear your cheer team behind you and Jungkook’s rugby team behind him, both cheering your names.

You guys laughed into the kiss when you heard Yoongi and Jimin loudly expressed their thoughts. “It’s about time.”

“I swear I thought they’ll never get to this stage.”

—

His bright and welcoming smile never failed to make your day, no matter how tired you were. You never thought that you’d love going for rugby practices and matches. It was the complete opposite scenario from the beginning of the year.

But now, it never got boring to watch your boyfriend get into his sport. You would always tell him that he looked attractive when he was serious. You enjoyed doing that because it always made him fluster and fumble over his words.

“I-I don’t… Nah… I don’t look cute when I’m serious.” He would adjust the neckline of his shirt, trying to maintain a nonchalant expression on his face.

“You’re finally done.” You made your way down the bleachers, “I’ve been thinking about dessert the past 30 minutes.”

Jungkook nodded his head, extending his arms out to pull you into a sweaty hug. He placed a light kiss on your forehead, pulling back slightly to get a better view of your face.

“Ice cream?”

Deja Vu.

You remembered the first night you hung out with Jungkook after meeting him at the after party. When you were at the bus stop ready to go home.

WIth a grin, you leaned in to kiss his soft lips lightly, “I’m down.”

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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thatadhdfeeling · 3 years

Text

The differences between HYPERFOCUSING and HYPERFIXATING

Tl;dr: Hyperfocusing is intense, uncontrollable concentration that can be productive and/or harmful. Hyperfixating is an obsession that can take up a lot of time, effort, and money, but is suddenly dropped. Both of these are common experiences with ADHD and other disorders, and hyperfixation can be mildly felt by neurotypical people, but to a lesser extent and far less frequently.

Hyperfocusing

is the state in which your attention is solely focused on the current task. This could be as simple as filing a nail, or as complex as reorganizing a room. It could be a minute, or several hours. And I don't mean this task is your main focus, I mean it's your ONLY focus.

Nothing else in the world exists to you. People struggle to interrupt and grab your attention. Time isn't a construct you understand anymore. Your nervous system stops sending alerts to your brain about physical symptoms. Hunger and a full bladder don't exist. Being in pain from not moving or muscle aches from heavy lifting aren't a recognizable thing.

It can be dangerous. When your body doesn't recognize hunger and you forget humans need to eat, you can cause digestion issues, low blood pressure, low brain oxygen levels, heartburn, etc. When your body doesn't tell you to stop and go pee, you can cause UTI or bladder infections and fevers. It is not a choice, it's not just working through lunch, and it's not just being super interested in something (although 99% of the time hyperfocusing is related to a task you find interesting).

Once you come out of the hyperfocusing state or are successfully interrupted, executive dysfunction tends to sink in and returning to that task is almost impossible. And everything hurts! It hurts to pee. It hurts to not eat. No time to prepare food, only to eat the food. You can feel very faint and confused due to lack of brain oxygen levels and lost perception of time. It's honestly not a fun experience to come out of. But you can get a lot of detailed work done while hyperfocusing! Hopefully something useful, but as it's not a choice of what on or when it happens, it isn't always productive.

Hyperfixating

is being obsessed with something. Could be anything. Learning a new skill, picking up a new (or old) hobby, an object, a person, a TV show.... Anything. But it's not just liking this thing a lot. It's an obsession.

Spending hours doing or researching or practicing or reblogging about it, even during inappropriate times. Sneaking it or something you can use to look it up with into work or school. Risking a lot to immerse yourself with it. Constantly thinking about it. Dreaming about it. And possibly hyperfocusing on it.

Everyone can enjoy a hobby or be a fan, but this isn't just enjoying it, it's obsession. It's the craving for that dopamine hit as though it were a drug. You find yourself spending so much money on it, and you're convinced it will last for a long time. You have this overwhelming desire to share it with the world. You'll tell your friends and family about it. Show them. Try to get them involved. Have your entire world surrounded by this hyperfixation by inserting it into every part of your life.

And then it's gone.

There's no warning, no getting bored period, no slowly becoming disinterested. You wake up one day and you don't care any more. It's over. It might come back in a few months or years, but more often than not it doesn't. And this can be a very low period. You feel incredibly dissatisfied and bored, but nothing fills that void. Nothing compares to the feeling of the thing you hyperfixated on, including the thing itself. It's like finishing a book or show and not knowing what to do with yourself after. When people ask you how it's going with that project or interest, it feels like a walk of shame to admit you haven't touched it for a very long time and no longer want to. That you spent so much effort and time and money on it and told yourself and everyone else that you weren't going to get bored of it. But you did.

And then the next hyperfixation comes along...

Hyperfocusing and hyperfixations are two common symptoms neurodivergent people experience. Mostly found in those with ADHD, but can be seen in other disorders as well (I believe autism is one of them. I am not autistic, I can't speak for members of the autism community on this). Both hyperfocusing and hyperfixating have their pros and cons, and neither can be controlled or started/stopped at will. The subject matter is also not a choice. Many neurotypical people experience times of intense focusing or obsessions with interests, but not quite to the same extent as often. Neurotypical people can mildly hyperfixate, but it tends to be for a longer time and usually includes a more gradual decline of interest. Some people are able to turn careers into it. If you are neurotypical and truly hyperfixate on something, congratulations, you've discovered your passion. But for someone with ADHD, they may struggle with this, as the hyperfixation can stop suddenly after a shorter time so they can't use it to help with career advancement. These are things that take over the lives of neurodivergent individuals. People have lost jobs over it, gone bankrupt over it, caused health problems because of it.... It's not just something everyone experiences. Neurotypical people can, but it's rarer and less intense. ADHD isn't a lack of attention, it's the inability to regulate it. So while we struggle to maintain focus, we also struggle to stop focusing at times.

If you know someone who's neurodivergent and tells you about these experiences, just listen. Let them teach you about their interest. Let them passionately talk to you about it. If they are hyperfocusing, follow up with them later. Even if they responded to a question during that period, double check if it's important to make sure they remember. Prepare them food ahead of time. Let them know if it's been hours since they got up and walked or went to the bathroom. Don't shame them for dropping an interest, or tell them their hyperfixation is annoying. Understand that they can't control hyperfocusing. Care for them, because they'll need it.

I don't speak for everyone with ADHD, this is just me trying to explain the differences and how strong they can be. I don't speak for anyone else, neurotypical or neurodivergent. Yes, everyone experiences these symptoms sometimes, but not everyone experiences them to the same extent and less frequently. That's why disorders are classified as they are. Please see my "Why saying everyone has ADHD is harmful" and "Disorder and disability aren't bad words" posts. I also have no sources, just personal experiences and what I have been explained by my therapist (who also has ADHD) and other neurodivergent people. So hey, I could be wrong. I'm always open to education, and wish for the world to understand that neurodivergent people are different, and that's not a bad thing!

#adhd #neurodivergent #adult adhd #adhd problems #living with adhd #adhd things #actually adhd #adhd brain #adhd inattentive #sorry it's so long #I keep seeing posts of people mixing up these two terms #thatadhdfeeling #theadhdfeeling #tadhdfpost

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

Part Five. "You guys gossip about boys without me?"

warnings: swearing, mentions of emotional abusive/manipulation word count: 3.2k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

Y/n dropped her phone on the bed and slowly rolled off and onto the ground with a soft THUD. She grunted, falling harder than she expected but the dull pain now present in her right shoulder felt deserved somehow. Why did she think she deserved it? Maybe because she was an unconfrontational worm even when the person needed to be confronted because he hurt her more than anyone ever had.

She closed her eyes and wiggled to get comfortable on the thin carpet in her room. Laying on the ground was relaxing to her, forcing her gamer back to straighten to how it was intended. It helped her think, being on the floor. She didn't know why but she didn't question it. Just laid on the floor in acceptance with the dirt and forgotten candy wrappers.

Why didn't she want to respond to Peter? Well, years of being with him and even the months of not being with him had taught her that her ex liked to get his way and liked to take his anger out in her verbally when he didn't.

You could say she's heard some terrible things over very simple inconveniences.

Y/n slowly pattered to her desk and slid on her headphones, finding the discord server Dream said he and George were on. It was a server that a lot of their friends were in, one that Y/n hardly went in since she still hadn't met a lot of them and wasn't super comfortable with talking in it yet.

She scrolled through the various text chats, one for boredom, one for stream questions, one for memes, one for pictures of pets, one for.... discussing the inevitable takeover of rats...? Y/n wasn't sure what that was about but she knew she didn't want to find out. The list went on. She was pretty sure they had made a channel for every possible message someone could ever send.

There were equally as many voice channels, most of them titled with the names of different games for when they only played with each other and didn't stream. Some of them were just random names and she noticed there was one to match the rat takeover text channel. Okay, who was responsible for that?

After what felt like an entire scavenger hunt and with many new questions in her mind, Y/n finally found the voice channel Dream and George were in and clicked on it. It was called memerz-only.

"I'm not a memer, am I allowed in here?" she asked. She hadn't realized how messed up her voice was since she hadn't talked all day.

"Holy shit, Bug, you sound awful."

She scoffed a laugh. "Thanks, Dream. Really means a lot." She did sound pretty scuffed. Her voice was a little scratchy from not talking literally all day.

"You doing okay, Bugsy?" George asked kindly, to which she hummed.

“I just have one quick question...”

“Mhm?”

“This is simple, please don’t elaborate further. There’s a channel on this server... did you guys mean rat as in BadBoyHalo’s dog or rats as in rats?”

Neither of them spoke for a minute before George understood what she was referring to. “Oh! Rats as in rats.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Yeah, Quackity—“

“No!” she interupted. “No! I said I don’t wanna know. I really don’t. I’m too afraid to understand.”

“Wha- HA, okay.”

“Good choice, Bugsy. I wish I didn’t know what it’s about. It’s a lot weirder than you’d think.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Dream said with a laugh. “How are you doing, Bug?”

"Neither of you are streaming, right?" she asked, doubling checking the twitch app on her phone to be sure.

"No."

"So I don't have to pretend to be happy and bubbly?"

"No, you can be as mundane as you'd like," Dream said. "We don't mind."

"Yeah, honestly, most of the time when Dream and I are on calls alone it's just us being super boring and hardly talking."

"That's..." she paused to find the right words and decided with, "actually really cute. You guys just enjoy each other's presence."

George scoffed and Dream giggled. "See, even Bug says we're cute, Georgie! Why can you tell me you love me?"

"I'll leave right now if you don't stop," George threatened. "Can we go back to how Bugsy's miserable?"

"I'm not miserable, I just..." she hesitated. She had already told George about why she was having a bad day, but Dream?

She didn't want to tell Karl because she knew he would yell at her. She didn't want to tell Sapnap because she didn't trust him not to tell everyone (on accident, of course). For some reason, it was a different kind of hesitation than with the others that made her not want to tell Dream. She didn't want to tell him because she didn't want to be... embarrassed? Maybe that was it. She thought it would be embarrassing to tell Dream about how her ex-boyfriend treated her like shit and how now he wants to get back together with her. Plus, she knew how everyone else individually would react but Dream was a complete mystery. Maybe he'd yell at her too and say she's stupid for being affected by an ex. Maybe he'd break down crying for some reason? Who knows?

"You don't have to tell us," Dream stated. "Seriously."

"It's embarrassing," she said, tucking her feet beneath her on her seat. As she said the words, she decided they felt right. She was embarrassed. "But George already knows."

Above everyone else, Y/n was okay with telling George about her situation because he and her tended to talk about their troublesome relationships quite often. He always came to her for advice and she to him. They were very similar in their ways of thinking and seemed to have lots of similar dating stories, even if neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. She knew he'd never judge her for thinking unclearly since he tended to do the same.

George hummed, not knowing what to say since she hadn't said much. She could tell he didn't wanna say something that might make Dream more nosey and start hounding her about telling him.

"What hap—never mind. Not my business," Dream said quickly.

"No, I mean, I kinda wanted to talk to George about it again anyway so I guess you can join in on the gossip." Guess my mouth decided for me on this one, she thought.

"Wait, what? You guys gossip about boys without me?"

"Oh my gosh, don't say it like that, Dream," George groaned. "Bugsy and I talk about relationship problems a lot, yes. Not just boys."

"How did I not know this?"

"Because you don't know a lot of things?"

"It's normally George sending screenshots of text conversations with girls and asking me how to let them down gently," Y/n explained with a giggle.

"Or Y/n talking about her asshole ex."

"George! What do you and Karl not get about not calling him names?"

"I'm so lost," Dream mumbled.

Y/n sighed. "Okay, well," she cut herself off with a groan. "It's so embarrassing. Basically, my ex asked me to 'chat' this morning which is code for he wants to get back together—"

"Do you know that for sure?" Dream asked.

"Yeah, we already decided that," George snapped. "Let her finish."

"Sorry."

"So he wants to get back together and I feel stupid for wanting to listen to what he has to say."

"How is that embarrassing?"

"Because he hurt me and I feel like an idiot because him even suggesting that means he doesn't realize how badly he hurt me. It makes me feel like, I don't know, like all the time I spent being upset was for nothing," Y/n explained in a soft voice. "And because his simple, like, five word text made me freak out all day to the point of exhaustion."

"I don't think you should be embarrassed, Bugsy," George offered.

"Have either of you, uh, have you ever considered dating an ex?"

"Didn't you just say he hurt you badly?" Dream asked. "You aren't thinking of getting back with him, are you?"

"No... but I want to stay friends so maybe I should hear him out?"

"Well, I've never gotten back with an ex," he said bluntly. "But to be fair, all my relationships have ended badly or for bad reasons so I've never wanted to see any of them again. Staying friends depends on why you and he broke up, I guess, but..."

"Um, how do I put this..." she trailed off. "He was mean to me."

"Then no? Simple."

"But I've forgiven him and I think he's changed."

"People don't change that easily. Didn't you break up like, a few months ago?" George asked.

"Yeah, but—"

"Honestly I think if a guy was ever mean to you he doesn't deserve any more of your attention," Dream decided. "So, no. Don't even be his friend. Don't listen to a single thing he has to say."

"That's what I told her," George agreed.

"If that were the case, you guys shouldn't be friends," she argued. "You're mean to each other all the time."

"But we know it's a joke," George defended.

"So you're saying if someone is ever purposefully mean to you just once, you drop them forever?"

"Well, no," Dream said. "Not exactly. But it sounds like he was super mean to you since it's why you broke up."

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to go into detail. She was already uncomfortable enough talking about her personal life so much, but she trusted both of them and needed to get it off her chest and they were there and willing to listen. They had already established wanting to listen to her if she wanted to speak and right now, she wanted to speak. Maybe not the full story, but at least some. "He, um, well, the mean things he said, he said because he was trying to get me to see what he thought was the truth about myself."

Both of them were silent for a few moments. "I'm still confused," George admitted.

"Me too... But you don't have to tell us." Dream explained again. She thought it was sweet that they kept reassuring her that.

"I know, but I want to. If it's not too much for you guys..."

"No, go ahead, if you want."

"Uh, he lowkey emotionally manipulated me by telling me I wasn't good enough for anyone and stuff and how he was the only one who could ever love me. The second part he said truly believing that he was being romantic. There are a lot worse and specific things engraved in my brain but that's the gist of what he would tell me. He made me believe that I could never leave him because I could never be loved by anyone else. But he said it all in a way that... he thought he was just... letting me in on something no one else had the guts to tell me."

George gasped. "What?! Bugsy, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was like that."

"Woah, what the hell? No. Absolutely not. Don't give this guy a second thought. Cut him off for good," Dream said sternly, angry that anyone would say that to anyone, especially to someone like Y/n. "Wait, so, you broke up with him?"

"Yeah. After Karl yelled at me a lot and explained his outside point of view, I finally realized Peter was gaslighting me and emotionally abusing me and stuff so I dumped him. I guess right now I'm just upset by it because I thought we were past this and I was healing and him reaching out affected me again. I'm just emotionally exhausted. Like I said, it hurts to know that he doesn't realize what he did to me."

"I'm really sorry, Bug," Dream said softly. "Gimme his address and I'll punch him for you."

She laughed through her nose. "That's okay. Thanks."

"Yeah, she can go set his house on fire if she wants. She's proven that already."

"Shut up, George," she said with a small laugh.

"Wh......at?" Dream stuttered and George briefly explained.

"Well, Bug, just so you know, in case you weren't aware, you're really cool and sweet and funny and we really like having you around–" Dream started.

"Oh, ugh, no don't do this," she tried to joke but he ignored her as he continued his speech.

"–and you're way too good to be hanging out with either of us, and whatever that asshole was showing you wasn't love. 'No one could love you like he did' because what he was doing was not love, it was abuse." Dream's voice had a certain gentleness to it as he spoke that comforted Y/n and made her believe him. He was blunt but it didn't stab her in the heart like it should have.

If Y/n ever cried, she might have just then from how sweet they were both being. But she didn't because that wasn't something she did. She never cried over anything Peter said, never cried during movies, and didn't cry then. But she did smile very fondly at the Discord screen in front of her.

"Thank you, Dream."

"You know I'm not good with words, but, yeah, what Dream said," George said. "I'm sorry you had to go through that thinking it was normal. Please, please, do not get back together with him and please don't be friends with him."

"He's fine as a friend though."

"Bug. Whether he's fine as a friend doesn't matter, he doesn't deserve to have you as a friend. He treated you like shit, it's okay to be a little cold to him."

She sighed. They were right. "Okay." There was a long pause before, "thanks, guys. Sorry for coming in here and dumping my problems on you—"

"Don't be sorry," George said. "We're the ones that asked you to come in and share. We knew what we signed up for and don't regret it."

"Seriously, Bug, we care about you. You're allowed to, you know, talk about yourself." How did he know that's what she meant by that sentence? The way he could read her mind was heart-warming.

"Also, George knows this but Dream, there's a strict no-telling policy about this kinda thing. Please don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't even think of it," he promised. "My lips are sealed."

"Good."

A soft animal noise came from one of their mics and Y/n strained her ears to listen. "Was that a cat?"

"Patches has entered the chat," George joked.

Dream chuckled. "Yeah, my cat just jumped on my lap."

"Aw, you have a cat? Lemme see lemme see lemme see!" Y/n begged. "Partly because I would love if we could stop talking about my ex-boyfriend and the other part because I love cats."

"There's pictures of her in the pets channel on Discord—"

"No, no I want a picture of her on your lap. Is she all snuggled up?"

"Yeah, she is."

"PleASE, Dream. I need to see the snuggly cat."

"Fine, fine, if you insist. Give me a second."

A few moments later, she got a DM from Dream and smiled at the picture. His room was dark but the computer screen cast a cold glow over a ball of fur on a lap clad in sweatpants. "Awww, she's so cute."

"Dream, I wanna see it too," George whined. "Send it to the pets channel."

"I'm literally making this my lock screen," Y/n informed, making Dream laugh.

"No, George, it's only for Bug. She's had a bad day so she gets exclusive Patches content."

"What? That is so messed up."

"You know what's messed up, George?" Dream asked. "You never come to me with advice on how to reject girls. We're on the phone for 12 hours a day but you can't talk to me about girls? Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"You'll just make fun of me."

"Why would I? What makes you think that?"

"Because Sapnap and I make fun of you? So obviously you and him would make fun of me?" George said with a laugh.

"....that's fair."

Y/n locked her phone and clicked the home button to admire her new lock screen. "I love her," she whispered.

Dream and George both laughed. "I'm regretting sending you that. You're gonna, like, make a shrine or something."

"What would be wrong with that? She's precious. She deserves a shrine."

"Yeah, Dream, you're the one that feeds her gormet cooked food," George teased with a laugh. "You probably have a shrine."

"That's normal! That's what people feed their cats! That's completely normal!"

"I don't," George countered.

"Then what do you feed your cat?" Dream asked.

"I dunno, normal cat food?"

"Wait! You have a cat too??" Y/n asked. "I feel like we're missing a huge detail and it's that George never told me he had a cat."

"And a dog."

"WHAT? GEORGE! Send me pictures!!!!!"

"I can't right now, it's like three am. They're sleeping. Look in the pets channel."

"You're the worst," she grumbled, clicking and scrolling to find his pets. She saw a lot of cute pictures of other peoples pets along the way but couldn't find George's.

"Hey, do your animals have English accents?" Dream asked, making Y/n laugh.

"What?" George scoffed. "You're so stupid."

"How would that even sound?" Y/n asked.

"Like..." Dream thought, preparing to test out how it would hypothetically sound. "Meow," Dream meowed in his best accent, failing miserable.

"Oh gosh, never do that again," Y/n begged.

Dream laughed into his mic. "That was disgusting. George, I really hope your pets don't have accents."

"They're animals, so probably not. And if they did, it definitely wouldn't sound like whatever that was."

"Oh come on–"

"OH I FOUND THEM." Y/n announced as she found a message from George in the pets channel with the message 'heard we're sharing our pets'. "GEORGE. THEY'RE SO CUTE."

"Are you gonna make them your background picture now?" George asked.

"What, no way! It's Patches!" Dream scoffed.

"Yeah, I'll make George's pets my home screen. Oh, what a good day." As soon as she said it, a metal bowling ball fell to her stomach, reminding her of all the reasons it was, in fact, not a good day.

She got off after a while, feeling the weight of a particular idiot man's stupid simple text catch up with her again. She thanked Dream and George for letting her join, they invited her to always hang out with them, and she went on her way.

Y/n fell on her bed and curled up under the covers as her mind started to wander from Peter to Dream. She was really glad she met him. He was a really good person and he was always so incredibly kind to her. George and Sapnap and Karl were all great friends, so caring and understanding and always looking out for her, but Dream was different and she didn't know why.

Maybe it was because he seemed untouchable still, like he had no reason to hang out around someone like her. But he wasn't untouchable in the celebrity was since he had a large following, because all of her friends did and they didn't seem untouchable. Then what was it? What set him apart from, say, Karl? She trusted Karl with her life and had known him for quite a while. She knew Dream for maybe a few weeks and almost trusted him the same amount.

Why?

She picked her phone up off the bed and pulled up Twitter, deciding to DM Dream since he was already existing in her mind rent-free. Might as well make him pay his rent by bothering him.

*********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

*********

A/N: EEEEEEEE I hope that all made sense lmaaoooo basically yn ex = gaarrbbaaagggeeeee and ruined her self-worth a lot!! not poggers!!!!!! THANK U GUYS FOR BEING SO SWEET ALL THE TIME ALL FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK ON ALL THE CHAPTERS!!! I love seeing you guys make predictions and tell me how aljkDFB chapters make you feel bc same :/

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #clay x reader #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #smau #social media fic #dream social media fic #social media au

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ren-therose · 3 years

Text

Prove Your Mine

Bo Burnham X F!Reader (WC: 2.5k)

Summary: Bo is being interviewed when he sees another guy bothering you. Though you handle it, he still wants to prove to you that no one else can have you.

Warnings: My most graphic smut so MINORS DNI. TW: inappropriate sexual misconduct in the workplace. oral sex f receiving. penetrative unprotected sex. maybe a little on the breeding side. possessive bo

A/N: As I said, my most graphic fic, so be warned. I have other bo content that doesn't get as detailed (though still very descriptive), and they can be found here. Comment, like, share, yadada, you all know the drill.

Thank you to the two requests that inspired this piece! They are linked here and here if you're curious.

---

Behind the glass of the recording room, you leaned back as Bo worked his boyish charm as the interviewer continued to ask question after question. It wasn't often that you were able to join Bo, especially since you were doing a lot to provide for yourself with our own career (it was that ambition that drew him to you in the first place). When your schedule allowed you to join him for a press day, you couldn't help but jump on top of him and give him the biggest hug you could muster. Meetings with Netflix, a few magazines and a nice lunch in LA, you were now enjoying the way he lit up talking about the work he does for this radio show.

You leaned back in the office chair, leg crossed over the other, with your foot bouncing. You arms were perched on the sides of the chair, showing off you black blouse and blue jeans that matched him. Your hair was half up and half down, casual, but still nice. Bo never got tired of how you looked so good all the time: when you wake up next to him, when you come home from work after a long day, or being sick in the bathroom while he holds your hair back. He also loved that you made an effort to match, down to the high tops you wore.

"Yeah no, I love making my own content, because who the fuck else is gonna understand what I go through? So I throw the comedy back in their faces, trying to get them to see the tru-what? Oh shit, I can't say fuck? OR SHIT??" Bo eyes widen and he collapses back into his chair, hands gripping his hair. "Jesus christ, I wish I had known before, I'm sooo so sorry, can we keep going?"

You laugh, as the interviewer explains that anything more than two fucks will make the show R-rated, so he needs to watch it. As you smile, making eye contact for a brief second, the door behind you opens and man is standing next to you, leaning against the tabel as he stares at your boyfriend.

"Is this that fucking comedian from like, 2010 or some shit?"

You uncross your legs and spin to face this asshat face on. "What did you just say about him?"

The man's eyebrow quirks up, raking his eyes over you with a smirk. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you a fan? I didn't mean to offend you; I just thought someone as pretty as you would have better taste than a washup musici-"

You launch out of your seat and plant yourself between the man and the window.

"Already, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you have a lot of your information. Maybe do some research on the people who are going to be working with you" you say, jabbing a finger into the man's chest, pushing him slightly as you sit back down, softly letting out a string of insults under your breath.

The man looks surprised, and also impressed. You glance at Bo, whose brow was furrowed.

Shit, he must have seen that. You think to yourself.

You give him a thumbs up and a big smile as he looks back at the interviewer, continuing on. Your cheesy grin drops and your arms cross as the man leans back against the desk to stare at you once more.

"Usually, I'm not into a woman who is so in control-"

"How surprising," you interject, rolling your eyes.

"Aha. But, your bossiness is highly attractive..."

He leans forward, eyes landing on the open buttons of your shirt before coming back up to your face.

You scoff, "As appealing as it is to lie and say I'm single and simple don't want to go out with you, I actually have a boyfriend I love and isn't a dick, so I won't be leaving him anytime soon."

With that, you roll away from him to look at Bo. He is laughing, slapping his leg and running his hands through his hair. You could tell he was probably reaching his limit, and move to the intercom connected to the earpieces he and the interviewer had. As you press the button, the douchebag in a suit leans over your shoulder, brushing the hair off your neck and leaning down to your ear to whisper "but could he fuck you like I could?"

Your finger flies off the button as Bo's jaw drops at the words filling his head. Before he can even get out of his seat, you are grabbing the man by his lapels and pushing him against the nearest wall.

"Listen, you little bitch-ass, sexist, predatory fuck," you reach down and grab the man by the crotch, twisting his balls and dick in your fist, "first, you're gonna apologize to me. Second, my boyfriend just saw all of that, so you get to deal with that and apologize to him as well. Then, you're gonna go tell your manager that I want to speak to her, and if you even attempt to twist (as you squeeze him tighter) the truth, remember the two other witnesses who heard what you said."

The mans face was beet red as sweat dripped down his temple. He was barely breathing, afraid to move. "Answer me, fucker!"

"Yes! Yes!" he cries, a single tear falling from his eye.

"Good!" you say cheerfully, letting go of the man's junk. Just as he tries to scurry away, you grab his arm and say "by the way, it's kinda small, you might need some kind of enhancer because I wasn't impressed at all."

The man looks like he might explode, but rather than risk castration, he practically runs out the door.

"Uhh, do you think she's got it" you hear a voice say over the speaker.

You eyes widen as you realize the mic was on the entire. time.

Bo raises his eyebrows, a clear code for "da fuck babe?"

"Yeah. She's got it. Are we done here?"

When Bo exited the booth, you were sitting with your face in your hands, embarrassed by the altercation that everyone just heard and saw.

"Hey Dick Crusher," he mocks, coming to pull you up.

"Noooo, please don't say that Bo," you whine, standing up, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and deliver a bear hug.

"Oh no, that is never going away. That was incredible. Did you get that from Deadpool?"

You pull away to look up at him and reply, "how did you know?"

"Because every guy in the movie theatre collectively groaned at just the idea of being manhandled that way," he said with a shudder, turning to put his arm around you as you both exited the room.

"You're not mad?"

Bo stops and turns to you, surprise etched on his face. "W-why would I be mad at you babe? It's not like you enabled him. He was eye-fucking you the minute he walked in the room."

You look down, reaching to button your top to cover your chest a little more.

"Hey, babe, you don't have to do that. He just needs to learn to noT BE A PERV!" Bo yells down the hall. You laugh, wrapping your arm around his waist as you leave the building.

---

You get back to your place after a ride that consisted of talking about how weird the recording booth smelled and that they guy wanted to interview after that 'horrifying and impressive' tiff.

When you get inside, Bo goes in to put down your purse and keys on the table as you pull off your shoes by the door. Leaned over, your hair falls to the side and your shirt gapes away slightly, allowing your boyfriend to see the soft slopes of your breast. As you go to stand up, Bo stalks towards you, trapping you between him and the door.

"Uuhh, hi?" you say nervously. You still got butterflies around him, even after knowing him for so long.

Bo reaches up to your top, unbuttoning your top one slowly, pulling it away from your chest as he goes to the next one. Instead of undoing the button though, he drops his hands down to your ass, patting you gently before lifting you up the door. You are now level with him as he goes back to your buttons. His breath is warm against your neck, much more comforting than that creep could have ever been.

"Are you thinking about the way he breathed on you?"

The hairs on your neck stood up as he read your mind, moving to the third button now.

"Hm? You want to answer that?"

You breath out softly, wrapping your fingers in his hair as you reply, "nothing feels like you Bo. Only you can make me feel good..." you whisper, leaning your head back against the door as he continues to ghost over your neck. He has finished unbuttoning you and was pulling the top away to reveal your bra and abdomen.

"You got that right." He plants a wet kiss on the crook of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly. "You're fucking mine."

You pull him by the hair so that you can see his eyes as you say the next two words: "Prove it."

The next thing you know, you're being thrown on the bed as he attacks your mouth, tongues battling for dominance. His knee is between your legs as you grind against him, trying to find relief in the friction he granted you. He moved from your lips to your jaw, under your neck to your collarbone. He is marking each place his mouth lands, littering hickeys and love bites like it was the only way to claim you.

You moan, arching your back into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slip his hands underneath you and unclasping your bra. Once it is thrown somewhere in the room, he attacks your breast, assaulting your nipple with his tongue while his hand squeezes your ass.

"He fucking stared at my tiddies," he mumbles into your chest, causing you to laugh. He pulls off of you and stares with concern and annoyance.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure they were my tiddies," you smirk, shimming your chest in his face.

"Nope. Your tiddies are my tiddies." He bites your nipple softly, causing you to cry out as the throbbing between your legs increased.

"God, Bo, I''m yours, I'm all yoouurrs..." you groan, running your hands through your own hair, pushing it out of your face.

Bo continues to make his way down your body, reaching your jeans with frustration. He sits up and unzips your pants before shimming you out of them, panties and all. Before he goes down, he removes his shirt and pants, giving you the chance to admire the man that you loved.

"And all of that is mine," you growl.

"That's fucking right," he says before diving between your legs. The time to tease is gone, all he wants is for you to be in tears over what he can do to you.

You're breathing is shallow as he runs his tongue through your folds over and over, the wet friction on your clit driving you crazy. One hand in his hair, the other gripping your breast, you feel yourself reaching the a high.

"Bo don't stop, I'm gonna cum, you're gonna m-make me c-c-OH!"

You're arching into his mouth before you can finish your sentence, his arm holding you in place as you ride out your high...on his face.

As you try to catch your breath, Bo sits up, revealing his painfully hard and dripping cock.

"I'm gonna take that fucking pussy and remind you of why it's mine," he mutters, almost more to himself than you. He wasn't the jealous type, but the way that guy had tried to manhandle you in front of him? It pissed him the fuck off.

He pumped himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him and you, just barely connecting.

"Show me Bo. Make me yours."

That statement was all the encouragement Bo needed as he slid into you, taking his time to really stretch you out. He was big, and you were filled by his cock, in ways you had never been before. You could feel him in your stomach if you pressed your hand bellow your naval.

The feeling made you weak and your elbows gave as you collapsed against the bed.

"Always so tight for me. So wet. And it's all for me, no one else," Bo whispers, beginning to slowly rock his hips as he moves inside of you. Your body reacts, contracting around him, causing to twitch.

"Hey, I won't last if you squeeze me like that," he pants, already feeling like he could paint your inner walls with his load.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him gently before stating: "show me what no one else can do."

Bo's hips snap into to you, causing a sharp gasp to escape you. He continues to rail you into the mattress, barely able to completely sheath himself inside of you because of his size. You moan as you reach behind you to grip a pillow, pulling it over your face as you take him with each thrust. You finally throw the pillow and open your eyes to see him holding your thighs as he slams into you relentlessly.

The site of that alone would have made you cum had it not been for the fact that he just so happened to slide his hand down to your already sensitive bud and tweak it in circles. You cry out, tears filling your eyes at the stimulation.

"Bo, I need you to come inside me, please, make me yours baby, I need your cum inside me..."

Bo's eyes roll into the back of his head but he returns his focus to watching your face scrunch at the beginning of your climax.

"Cum for me baby, I'll cum inside you, just squeeze my co-oh, yes, just like that baby, fuck"

You let out a short scream before biting your wrist, your head pulling back as you cream his dick, pulsating and throbbing around him as he spills into you, warm and sticky as he fills you.

"You're mine Y/n. All mine baby," he grunts, bucking into you a few more times as he rides out his high.

---

Both showered and clean, you were cuddled in bed together, your legs in his lap as he rubbed your feet and you played with his hair at the nape of his neck.

"So he was really trying to diss me like that? Why would they invite me if they don't fucking like me?"

You laugh, shaking your head as you reply, "I know, right? It was awful, and who treats a guest like that? Such a creep."

"Hey."

"hey."

"Thanks for standing up for me."

"I love you Bo."

"I love you more, Y/N."

----

A/N: Now this, this was my most graphic fic yet, jesus. I hope you enjoyed- feel free to send in some more requests or suggestions. I like the feedback and reading your comments and reblogs! Bo Burnham masterlist and TAGLIST linked here.

Lots of love and don't forget to pee, wash your hands and clean your toys.

Taglist: @allexthakatt @shes-a-killer-queen-39 @ginger-abreu @dreamingofwolves @beeblisss @toread-fic

@mid-sommared

#bo burnham #bo burnham x y/n #bo burnham jealousy #jealousy #oh bo #bo yo #bo's hoes #bo burnham smut #bo burnham fanfic #smut writer #reblog plz

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tsukishimas-shortcake · 3 years

Text

Relationship Headcanons

↦ Character(s): Hakkai Shiba x fem!reader

↦ Rating/Warning: No rating though there are some light mentions of abuse (if you have read the manga you are aware of what I am talking about, I’m not going very deep into it though it literally just mentions it), mentions of anxiety attacks (no detail though), fluff, not proof read

↦ Word count: 1.8k (longer than planned, sections are bolded)

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello~ I’m post yet another TR headcanon and this was requested by the lovely @strawbub I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it did get longer than planned but I enjoyed writing it. I'll prob do a part two that's more of a scenario based on your first date or something since I didn't go into it here. Please note: for those of you who don’t know my blog is currently under construction, meaning I will not be updating my masterlist for the time being.

So how did you guys meet, well mostly because of Yuzuha,

One day in like elementary you’re walking home and you see this super pretty middle school girl just like yelling at this small group of guys

The guys end up running off just because they don’t wanna deal with her or the attention she's drawn to them

Behind her was a boy, taller than her but obviously younger. You didn’t assume they knew eachother though.

The boy and yuzuha began walking in opposite directions because one was going home while the other was going to pick up something like groceries

You’re so entranced by how she stood up to them yet she’s a girl who was far smaller and you end up catching up to her, almost stepping on her heels

You end up absent mindedly following her into the grocery store and eventually she just freezes, turns, and stare directly at you

Your eyes widen since you must’ve been staring and she just goes “may I ask why you’re following me?” And you explain how cool she was earlier. She invites you over for dinner (esp since her older brother won’t be home) and figured it’d be good for Hakkai to meet someone his age

You end up going over but Hakkai didn’t come down to eat so you never actually got to meet him, though from then on you would see Yuzuha every so often, visit every other weekend or so

But no matter how often you came over the next few months, you never once met hakkai,

That was until you both reached the end of your middle school education and we’re about to begin high school

You had gone over because you were going to borrow an old work book from Yuzuha, and when you go to knock on the door the door opens before your closed fist could hit it, instead hitting a firm chest

You blush and quickly apologize but the person in front of you doesn’t move at all, doesn’t say anything and almost looks like they drifted into space with their dead stare

You assume this is yuzuha’s older brother because you’ve also never met him and you immediately turn to walk away but Yuzuha calls over hakkai’s shoulder

“Y/N-Chan! You just got here where are you going?” This was def not yuzuha’s older brother. There’s no way she’d be that happy with him around; oh my god. Realization hit, the guy who you hit (though it was more of a tap) was hakkai.

The hakkai you had only caught a glimpse of in yuzuha’s photos, never talked to or actually seen in person despite going to the same school and living in the same neighborhood

He must hate you. That’s why he avoids you. That’s def why - is what you think

Yuzuha drags hakkai back inside and invites you in; you sit down with them in the living room and watch hakkai visibly relax now that he’s inside his house, his own space, with a pillow behind him and a blanket covering his lower half, he almost curls up into it as he continues to avoid your stare

“Hi hakkai…Kun? Im L/N Y/N” you say and you see his face dead pan once again

Yuzuha can be heard laughing from the kitchen as she comes back in.

She leans over and begins explaining that hakkai literally just freezes with any interaction between him and girls who aren’t in his family

You nod, thinking maybe it’s an anxiety thing? Which is the case with you, but only because he’s been watching you since you’ve come over (not in a creepy way) wanting to and working the courage up to talk to you

The 5th or so time you came over after that encounter he was inches away from introducing himself before the house phone rang causing everyone to kind of “wake up” in a sense

Every time since then he gets closer and closer but isn’t able to say anything; he even realizes he has a crush on you.

The way you sit when you do homework and how cute you look when you’re focused.

How your forehead scrunches up when you’re trying to figure something out and you end up just sitting back with a small huff followed by yuzuha’s signature laughter.

It’s also a huge thing that you get along with Yuzuha.

So enough with first meeting time for the confession.

He ends up confessing accidentally. He didn’t know you were coming over to begin with so he was flustered out of his mind. And how was he supposed to know you hadn’t actually fallen asleep and you could hear him over the tv

The tv was more white noise than anything and the day was hot since it was the middle of summer causing the window to be open and the sound of soft wind and small birds to drift in; this was the hot that makes you tired so you were all sprawled out of just sitting in a daze

So while resting your head on the table you’re dozing in and out but then you hear hakkai begin to speak, something he never really did around you

Now did you and hakkai text? Yes. Did it take him an hour to reply because his brain would explode when you replied to him? Yes. But was it a start to communication? Also a yes.

You hear him say your name quietly before he moved closer, you can feel his gaze on your features

“I like you” is all he says. Simple and sweet. But you sit there in shock, trying not to blush so he’ll have no idea you heard him but he can tell because your forehead scrunches

You heard him and are focused on if you should reply or not. And he knows that.

You open your eyes and just look up at him, he’s closer than expected. His hand close to yours on the floor and he reaches over and grabs it lightly. Hoping you’ll also return the gesture by holding his hand instead of leaving your hand limp inside his.

And you do, thank goodness, and Hakkai almost mentally can’t handle it.

Once you start dating it’s more so just hanging out at his house or yours; however he talks a bit more and you text a lot more. He’s gotten better at replying. It usually takes him like 15 minutes now

He’s kinda stressed about your relationship but not due to anything you or him did

He’s stressed because of the mentality his older brother gave him

Is he even allowed to be this happy?

He finally has someone thats small enough and naive enough that he can protect you; compared to constantly being protected it’s a sudden, strong, yet good change for him

He’s touch s t a r v e d

Yes Yuzuha shows affection; but he stopped accepting her hugs when he was around 8 just because he physically wasn’t able to handle it due to his bruises and such

But with you, even with his bruises and all you take care of him. Able to coax him into using medicines and toning down the physical violence (that he can control himself)

He also finds it super soothing when you lightly brush over his scars (especially those that his brother gave him), it helps him believe that scars are only physical and can fade with help

One thing that stresses him out the most is trying to hide you from his brother. Any time you leave something at the house its easy to pass it off as yuzuha's but when it comes to things like photos he has with you, he can't hang them up, show them off, or have them as his phone Lock Screen, etc. because he just really doesn't want his brother to know and target you since he'll then know that you're his weakness (aside from yuzuha as well)

Sometimes won't explain why he can't hang out and has legit pushed you out of his house before at the last minute notice of his brother coming home

Will always make sure you get home safe though, usually by having Yuzuha go with you since then she can just say you're a friend from school

Your parents love him, though they were a bit hesitant it became a "you always have a place to stay" because they learned about their family situation from you and yuzuha. So expect him to spend the night when he's too scared to deal with his brother. Same with yuzuha. (yes I know this isn't yuzuha head canons but its hard to write for him without mentioning her when they're so close)

We're talking three person sleep overs. Yuzuha and you of course share the bed and Hakkai takes some time to even set foot in your room much less sleep on a mattress that's on the floor

He has a small heart attack every time he comes into your room because he's overwhelmed with everything, he's never been so comfortable and it makes him feel restless. Like he's never and I mean n e v e r been less stressed and slept better than when he does so in your room

The smell, the colors, just being surrounded by you is something that completely changes his mood

Once showed up after he fought with his brother, tears in his eyes and clothes a bit tattered and you just pulled him to your room, and sat down with him.

You laid on your bed with him laying down onto of you, head on your chest as you rubbed his head and only said a few words "its not your fault"

He ends up crying so hard he falls asleep and gets dehydrated and you have to make him drink a bunch of water when he finally wakes up.

NSFW

super fucking careful w you

almost annoyingly so, but you're understanding

He knows that he might be taking things frustratingly slow but he knows that since you understand and know his history that you can help him get through it

Your first time you think you'll have to call it off because he's shaking so bad

"baby... are you sure it won't hurt you?" he keeps asking.

pretty sure that's the longest its ever taken him to finish because he was so anxious

despite being so slow and hesitant, late he isn't too scared to get a bit rougher

but im not talking anything crazy im talking like he's willing to pull your hair a bit or nip a bit harder at your neck.

Please never ask him to do anything like degrade you or some type of harsh physical rough shit, he can't

like literally im 99% sure that if you ask him to choke you or something he will pass out because of the anxiety attack he would have at even the thought.

in short with nsfw though he is sweet boy. He's a switch through and through. Loves when you take care of everything because then he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you.

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tarosin · 3 years

Text

did i do that p2

paring implied past platonic tommy/tubbo/ranboo x reader

tw: cursing, de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

TW: de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

Dear quackity,

if you’re reading this, it’s too late. you’ve probably noticed me and dream are nowhere to be found, you may ask yourself why did sam let the pair out well the answer to that is simple. he didn’t i’m sure you can find what remains of him somewhere around the prison. you really have yourself to blame, now before you start to get defensive and say ‘i didn’t do anything this is bullshit everyone’s trying to attack me’ let me tell you why. before you decided to give us weekly visits just to abuse us mentally and physically, we couldn’t stand each other. I’d go as far as to say I despised dream, but you helped unite us against a common enemy..you. now we’re unstoppable. I'll spare you the details of what happened to your precious warden. see you soon - Y/n + dream :)

“do you think he’ll be convinced we killed sam?”

“dream i’m in here for the murder of a child, of course he’s going to believe it.”

of course the pair of you didn’t actually kill sam, dream simply manipulated ranboo whilst he was enderwalking into bringing supplies you’d need. you have no idea how he managed, but at this point you didn’t care. you know damn well you shouldn’t be in this prison as you didn’t kill michael. you knew this because the ghost, at least you hope it’s his ghost and that your mind wasn’t messing with you, would stand in the corner of the cell telling you that it wasn’t you who murdered him that night. It was a range of factors: the skeletons, fear, pure exhaustion of trying to run from the mobs after him. you often found yourself ranting to dream about what you had been seeing every night for the past god knows how many months at this point, but alas it was no use. he swore he hadn’t seen anyone but you, occasionally sam, and quackity, definitely not the ghost of michael. It was now midnight according to the clock hanging on the wall. the plan was pretty simple, you would scream that dream had disappeared, causing sam to run into the cell, from then you’d use the rope ranboo gave dream to make temporary handcuffs, and whilst you all make your way to the locker room, where you’d temporarily keep sam assuming quackity would find him sooner or later, then that was it you’d finally be free.

“ready?” you nodded and dream hid in the corner, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, but nevertheless you began screaming that dream disappeared, laughing to yourself as you heard the platform moving towards the cell.

“y/n calm down what do you mean- dream get off of me i don’t want to have to kill you but i will!”

dream rolled his eyes as you tied sams hands together.

“shut the fuck up sam, do you understand how pathetic you sound? you’re outnumbered you’re not going to do anything. if you know what’s good for you and your beloved quackity, you’ll tell us which pocket has your key cards in, okay?” this seemed to trigger something in sam as within 10 minutes you and dream had him in the locker room.

“bye sam, i’m sure your boyfriend will come and collect you soon enough, we left him a letter in the cell and a note from you where you always sit saying to just go on through, don’t miss us too much!”

there you both stood, in-front of the now locked locker room, no home, no friends, no plan, but you were free, that's all that matters to you.

“dream, i have something to ask, okay? promise no matter whatever happens, whether you don’t see me for weeks or you over hear something, you won’t come looking for me.“

“stay safe y/n, a lot of people aren’t going to be happy you’re out. whatever you do, avoid quackity.”

and just like that you went your separate ways, where dream went, you have no idea, you’ll probably hear something soon enough. as for you, well you didn’t really have a plan, you weren't really sure you wanted to be alive at this point. there was a little voice that sounded a lot like tommys ringing in your head, telling you to go to the old base you and tommy made years ago, so that’s where you went. you were clinging onto the hope tommy would be there and let you explain what happened that night, you’d make up then just like old times you’d plait his hair, as the pair of you sat under moonlight listening to whichever disk tommy felt like playing that night. this of course wasn’t the case, instead you were met with previous memories of your friendship. a photo book lay in the middle of the floor as if someone knew you escaped and would go to this base, you shut the door locking it behind you for your own safety, remembering what ranboo said to you the day you were thrown in the prison. picking up the photo book you noticed something odd, the words ‘i know what you did’ and ‘i know where you are’ were scratched into the leather cover. you threw the book onto the floor scared as hell. after you calmed down, you picked the book up from the floor, which was now open on the page of a group photo of you tommy and michael, which ranboo had taken the day you both agreed to babysit him for a while. as you flicked through the book, the images got dark. It went from photos of you tubbo ranboo and tommy laughing at the beach to the night michael was killed. the last page made your blood run cold, there was two photos, one was of michaels funeral, and the second was a picture of you sat in the middle of the base holding the photo book. this was the final straw. You were no longer in control of your breathing, you began feeling like you were being preyed on by something who really wasn’t happy with you and wanted you gone, you picked up the book one last time and everything was gone. the book was back to normal no threatening messages no pictures of michaels death or of you looking through the book, the cover was back to its original state full of happy memories of when you were friends with everyone, back when you were happy.

“hello y/n.”the rooms temperature dropped suddenly you began feeling like you were being watched, you turned around to see michael sat on the floor holding a photo book a lot like the one that caused you to panic.

“hey y/n why are my parents acting like they can’t see me anymore? this isn’t funny anymore, i miss them. can you talk to them?”

“michael... this isn’t real. you’re not real. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

everything went silent as if the world stopped turning for a few seconds, that’s when you heard the child laughing.

“what do you mean i’m not real? of course i am!”

“michael darling, you're dead remember, we spoke about this in prison. the skeletons shot you in the nether”

you continued talking to michael, not even realising ranboo had followed you to the base and was watching you talk to the wall.

“who are you talking to?”

you honestly didn’t know whether you felt relieved he was there with you or if you were pissed he found you, either way you ran to him pulling him into a hug despite him constantly telling you to let go of him.

“michael, he’s over there.”

“Is this some sick joke? There's no one there. he’s dead. you killed him!”

“ranboo please.. you, you don’t understand i didn’t kill him. please just let me explain what happened. he was surrounded by skeletons. they shot him please, you have to understand I loved that boy, I still do, I would never do something like that!”

“save it y/n, i don’t want to hear it now if you don’t mind i’m going to go tell sam that you have somehow escaped.”

you fell to your knees as ranboo walked away, you sat alone with the quiet comprehension of the ending of it all before realising if someone comes back you would be in big trouble, just before you was about to begin the long walk back to dream he showed up to the base you were currently crying in, not knowing tubbo and ranboo were not far behind him listening in to your conversation with dream.

“dream please i’m begging at this point. Please end my suffering. I can't do this anymore, no one’s listening to me. I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS! there’s a bow and arrow in that chest over there.”

“y/n, this isn’t a funny joke.”

“dream, do i look like i’m joking?”

“y/n..”

“hey, what can you say? we were overdue.”

tubbo and ranboo couldn’t believe what they were hearing right now, their best friend was about to die and there was nothing they could do about it. as soon as they heard dream open the chest, they ran as fast as they could to go and get tommy.

dream left straight away, it was hard to feel regret when you’re used to bloodshed. tommy couldn’t believe what tubbo and ranboo said and was convinced they were messing with him.

“Oh, I'm sure they did. how’d they get out the prison? did they fly out?”

he stood laughing, tubbo stood staring in disbelief, ranboo stood wiping his eyes trying not to cry knowing it would scar if he did. tubbo shook his head and grabbed his husbands hand for comfort.

“you’re really joking at a time like this?”

“we should tell phil.”

the three of them made their way to phil, guilt following them as they went they couldn’t believe what just happened. after they told phil, they all made their way to the base. as soon as the three teenagers saw the trail of blood dream left behind, they completely broke down and began walking, holding onto each other in an attempt to convince themselves this didn’t happen, and that you would be there. phil went in and saw your lifeless body laying there, knowing the others wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you like this, he sent them away to go and get technoblade. A few days later they found themselves sitting with puffy explaining what happened and what you had told them. realisation slowly hit them that you did in fact not kill michael, they felt awful the three of them couldn’t sleep since the day you passed. after the funeral, they often found themselves at your house as it was the only place that they could sleep and feel as though you were still with them. everyday they would visit your grave, placing anything they found that reminds them of you, and would apologise for not believing you sooner. now you were gone and there was nothing they could do about it.

tags:

@bozowrites

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slytherweasley · 3 years

Text

Cam girl (George Weasley x reader)

Warnings: Smut and swearing

Summary: George logs onto his computer every week at the same time to watch his favourite cam girl because she reminds him of a girl he used to have a crush on at Hogwarts. One day he decides to pay to private message her and she responds.

George logs onto his computer at 10pm, the same time every Monday, Tuesday and Friday. Today’s Friday, the last day of the week until he has to wait until Monday. For the past month George has been watching a cam girl, she goes by Honey but that’s not her name. The thing that excites George about it all is that she’s anonymous, no one knows what she looks like under the mask.

You setup your computer so the webcam can get everything, you find all the toys you want to use and line them up. You put on your mask and watch the time as it hits 10pm and press stream. The viewers get transferred to your livestream. People assume everyone there is old men but you’ve seen pictures in private messages and some of them are quite good looking. Your job isn’t all sex, for the first 10 minutes you have conversations with the viewers and sometimes people just want to private message you to have some company.

George has never typed anything in the chat before because he’s too nervous too, he doesn’t know what to say. He watches you as you sit on the bed and answer comments from the live chat. He originally clicked on your stream because you reminded him of a girl he used to have a crush on at Hogwarts. She was in Hufflepuff and he had said only a few words to her but he knew so much about her.

You stop answering questions when you check the time and get ready. You ease into it by touching yourself over your lingerie. George tries to stop himself from touching himself so early in the show but the way you moan and mutter dirty things makes his mind go insane. You start to strip first revealing your breasts and you see the chat comments speed up as more new comments roll in and more viewers tune in. You get an average of 5-25k views, it all depends on the day.

You strip until you’re fully naked and lay down spreading your legs out. You use your fingers to spread your pussy open and tease your clit. George starts to palm himself through his pants. You get out a pink dildo, the men prefer 6-8 inches and bright coloured so you tend to use them but you have a large collection. You get closer to the webcam and lick up the dildo putting it in your mouth and making it wet.

You put it inside you once you’re satisfied with how long you’d been deepthroating it. George pulls his pants and boxers down and touches himself right away, wasting no time. He usually cums twice, it doesn’t take too long for him to get hard after once because he watches the whole show.

You liked doing the show because it is a way to let out all your stress and you have a desirable body that thousands of people want to see and you get generous donations during the livestream and to pay to private message you. You stay up for a few hours after your stream to talk to people because the more you talk the more they spend money on you.

Once you’d cum a few times and filled up the time you end the stream by reminding people about private messages, $5 to talk the whole night. George felt an urge to message you but he decided not tonight, he had to go to work the next day and help Fred with the shop. He took a shower and couldn’t stop thinking about you, he got ready for bed and closed his eyes and realised he couldn’t sleep if he didn’t attempt to message you. It was a couple hours after your show had ended and he decided to message you. You probably get hundreds of messages a night.

Ha pays the money to send a message he types in something simple “Hi, I watch your shows every night” he presses send and waits a bit doing other things, the notification pops up on the corner of his screen and he sees you answered. “Thank you, it means a lot, we haven’t spoken before, have we?” it was polite but George was thrilled you actually answered. He immediately types back “No we haven’t but I’ve been watching for a month now, I never got the courage to even send a live chat until now.”

George stayed up for hours talking to you. You signed off for the night to all the other men in your chats just to talk to him. He seemed like one of the guys who was nice and you were both the same age, he’s 25 as well but you don’t give out your age or actual name. You could pass for younger or older. Every night even when shows weren’t on you’d talk, the more detail you knew about him and the more sexual the conversations were the more you liked him. You’d stay up extra late to talk to him and you found yourself realising you’re getting attached and giving him false hope that you’d meet up one day.

“What’s your real name?” He asks “I can’t tell you, it’s apart of the mystery, besides you haven’t told me your name yet” “I understand and I do prefer not knowing, my name is George just so you know.” Your heart skips a beat and you feel as though you’d been transported back to Hogwarts, you had a huge crush on George Weasley, you didn’t know him well but you fancied him and your friends knew, you had common friends but never became friends. You used to be so shy and that is the one thing you wish you got over sooner so you could become friends with George. As far as you know he’s been doing very well for himself at Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes. You always thought about going in there but thinking about how shy you were makes you feel insecure and shy.

“I love that name, I used to know someone with that name, he was a great person, just like you” you reply “I’ll admit I’m so surprised you’ve been talking to me everyday for a week” “I’ve grown to like you, George.”After talking for another week you couldn’t get him off your mind and you knew that you were in too far.

“I don’t want you to keep paying every night, here’s my number. I trust you enough.” George just assumed you talked to everyone the same as him but you seemed to like him. He saves the number in his phone under Honey.

As the weeks went by, you were talking more than just at night. You became friends and you started to hate that George was calling you Honey. “I wish I could talk to you in person” he types “Why don’t we do it then?” “In person?” “Lets meet up, we can hook up at my place if you’re comfortable” you couldn’t believe you were doing this. “Are you sure? Neither of us know much about each other’s physical appearance, you don’t even know what I look like.” “I don’t care, I’ve fallen for you and we should meet up.” You send him an address to meet up a couple blocks from your house just in case he isn’t as sweet on the internet.

You get there early and stand on the busy street, each man that goes by you get hopeful until you see him, George Weasley standing there looking around for someone. In a matter of seconds everything clicks in your head, you’ve been talking to George Weasley, no wonder you were so in love with this guy you’d just met online. You apparate out of there before he sees you. You get into your apartment and send him a text “I’m so sorry George, I just threw up and I’m not in the mood to see anyone, I hope you know I’m not an asshole.” He texts back almost immediately “I get it, don’t feel bad we can reschedule” “Thank you for understanding.”

The next couple days you ignored his messages and he even tried to contact you on live chat but you wouldn’t message back. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t what you expected, I think I got the message” George knew it seemed weird she would text right as they were supposed to meet, she definitely saw him and ran. Your heart breaks and you feel obligated to message “Are you free right now?” You text back “Why?” “Let’s meet up, same spot and I promise I’ll be there to explain everything” “I’ll be there soon.”

You use magic to clean up your house just in case he isn’t grossed out by you and does want to come back to hook up. You apparate and see he is already there waiting, he seems shocked that you apparated “Honey?” He asks trying to get closer to see your face in the dark. You take a deep breath and get closer to him so he can see your face “Y/n?” “Hi George” “Did you know?” “No, I had no idea until I saw you and got scared so I apparated home.” “What do you think?” “I could ask the same” “I asked you first” “I’ve always fancied you, since about fourth year but I didn’t know you so I didn’t say anything.” “We knew each other just weren’t close” “So what do you think?” “I’ve fancied you since fifth year so I’m happy, I’m shocked though, you were so shy.” “I’m a different person to what I used to be” “I can tell” “So what do you want to do?” “Love, this makes this so much better, let’s go to yours.”

You take his hand and apparate him into your apartment. You help take off his coat and lead him to your bedroom. “Wow, this looks so much cooler in person” “It’s probably because you’ve only seen one wall of the room.” He walks around “Do you want to see the toys?” He nods and you open up a few drawers full of them. “Wow, that’s a lot, do you ever use magic?” “Sometimes if I’m tired of doing it myself but never on camera.”

You make the first move and kiss George, his lips are cold but your warm lips pressed to his feels nice. “Can I undress you?” “Of course, just promise me you won’t treat me differently now you know I’m me” “No way, I get to fuck you on the bed I’ve seen for months, I’m not going to treat you any differently than how I told you I would.” You smile and bite your lip trying to hide your excitement as he discards your clothes.

“You’re just as beautiful in real life” he kisses down your neck to your breasts and sucks on one of your nipples and you let out a whimper, he kisses down your body and hovers above your pussy. “Please George” you moan, he licks from your core up to your clit. He fingers you with two fingers first before sucking on your clit and curling his fingers inside you. Your fingers grasp his soft hair and pull on it while the other grips the side of the bed,

“George! I’m going to cum” you yell and he pounds his fingers into you “Fuck” he pulls his fingers out of you and licks them off. He takes off his shirt and unbuttons his pants while you’re recovering from your high. “I’m ready, I need your cock in me, George” you palm him through his pants and slide a hand into his boxers, jerking him off. He pulls them down “Lay down” you do as he says while he strokes himself a few times before lining himself up with your core.

He slides himself in and groans at the feeling “Fuck” he moans and slowly picks up the pace until he gets used to the feeling. “You’re so fucking tight, Y/n” he pounds himself into you, you feel yourself sink into the mattress with every stroke. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a loud moan. “So fucking hot” You grip onto his bicep and look into his eyes when you are about to cum. Without saying anything he already knows “Come on, you’re so close” he rubs your clit with his other hand and you finish around him. “Holy shit, feels so good, you’re throbbing on my cock” you feel him finish and he lays beside you.

You lay your head on his chest “Thank you” he says “No, thank you, that was great” “I know you don’t do this for everyone so thanks and if you you did like it and want me to come around again I’ll be happy to.” You kiss his lips “George I want to see you again, a lot more often but also do other things like go to dinner or something.” You wait to see what he will say hoping he will agree. “Are you asking me on a date?” “No im asking you to be my boyfriend” “Really?” He sounds surprised “You don’t have to say yes I was just saying I’d like that” “Yes.”

George was fine with you doing your job, your shoes ever night and private messaging other guys because he knew that’s what you had to do to earn money. If he couldn’t be at your apartment one night he’d just watch your livestream.

#george weasley x y/n #fred and george #george smut #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george x reader

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

All For The Investigation

Read All For The Investigation on AO3

Masterlist

By Tim’s calculations, there was an 87% certain that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the Parisian former hero Ladybug. However, 87% was not 100%, so Bruce required further investigation. Damian was stuck with the job.

Except, Damian knew that stuck wasn't exactly the right word. Stuck implied that he was displeased with the situation. Damian wasn't displeased. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the most pleasant person in all of Gotham Academy. If Damian had to choose anyone to be forced to spend time with, he would choose Marinette. Though he grumbled about being forced to spend time with plebeians (for the benefit of his brothers, who would mercilessly tease Damian if they even suspected that he had a crush), Damian was quite pleased by the assignment.

Given that Marinette was in his history class, it was quite easy to arrange a situation in which they were forced to be in each others' proximities. When their teacher announced that there would be an upcoming group project with randomly assigned partnerships, it was simple for Damian to break into her office and switch around some of the names. When the partnerships were announced and Marinette and Damian were paired together, Damian made his move.

"Dupain-Cheng, if you would like to work on the project over the weekend, we can do so at my house."

"Sounds good, Wayne, but you know, you can just call me Marinette," said Marinette with a smile.

Damian felt flustered, which was a very bad sign. He never felt anything less than perfectly composed. "Then you may call me Damian."

Marinette's smile got even bigger. There was a feeling in his chest that, had it been caused by anyone else, Damian would have suspected it to be a complication of the broken ribs from Joker's last attack. "Let me give you my number, and we can plan a meeting this weekend. Would Saturday work for you?"

Damian nodded as he handed Marinette his phone. "My schedule is free on Saturday."

"Great!" chirped Marinette. She plugged in her number, then posed for a picture, explaining that it was, "For the contact photo."

And if in the privacy of his bedroom, Damian stared at that contact photo for twenty-minutes straight, it was just for research purposes. Just to compare Marinette's facial structure to that of Ladybug. Completely normal investigative business.

The next morning, Damian found his way to the bedroom of his most tolerable brother. "Grayson. Can I confide in you without any of the information getting to anyone else?"

Richard glanced up from his laptop. "Sure thing, Baby Bird." He patted a spot on the bed next to him,

"Don't call me that. I despise nicknames," grumbled Damian. He took a seat, staring at the wall in front of him, still weighing the risk versus reward of talking to Richard. If his brother had some technique for extinguishing romantic interest it would solve Damian's problem. However, if either Drake or Todd got word of Damian's crush there was no doubt in Damian's mind that they would never let him hear the end of it.

"So what's on your mind?"

"It pertains to the girl in my who Drake suspects to be Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She has become difficult to investigate. I have found myself unable to observe her objectively."

Richard frowned. "I'm not sure I know what you mean. Is it something that she did that's bothering you?"

Damian searched for the right words to explain the situation. He was not usually so tongue-tied, but the proper words seemed to escape him at every turn. "Dupain-Cheng is not what I expected. I assumed that it would be a simple task, to observe her and determine whether she has any connection to the Parisian superhero. However, I have found it difficult to concentrate on my mission when I am around her."

"You find it difficult to concentrate when you're around her. How so?"

Damian gritted his teeth. He didn't want to spell out his crush so obviously, but Richard seemed incapable of looking between the lines. "I have found myself preoccupied with trivial things like getting to know her personality, rather than investigating her background. She makes me feel... flustered."

Damian could see the moment that Richard made the connection. His brother's face lit up as he exclaimed, "You have a crush on her?!"

"Quiet!" snapped Damian. "This does not leave this room. I need to learn how to get rid of it, so I can get back to completing the mission."

Richard was grinning ear to ear. "That's not how crushes work. You can't just snap your fingers and have them disappear. The only thing that can get rid of a crush is time. Or sometimes if they get a haircut that kills the feeling. But mostly it just takes time."

"I cannot afford to wait for these feelings to fade. I'll look into scheduling her a haircut." Damian stood up, resolved to get rid of his crush before Marinette came over later that day to work on their project.

"No wait," Richard grabbed Damian's arm. "I doubt that your attraction to her is so shallow that a haircut would destroy the feelings you have for her. This is something that you'll have to talk to her about."

Damian frowned. "Perhaps I should give the mission to someone else. Jon could transfer to Gotham Academy for the semester. His detective skills are lacking but his judgment would be less clouded than mine. If I ignore her for long enough I'm sure that I can evade talking about my feelings."

"Why don't you just ignore the mission for a few weeks while you get to know her."

Damian fixed Richard with a death glare. "I cannot ignore this mission. Father gave it to me personally."

"How about twenty-four hours? You spend the next twenty-four hours in getting-to-know-her mode rather than background-check mode and at the end of it, we can regroup and decide what to do next. If you actually get to know her, you'll better understand the depths of your feelings. Once you have that understanding, you'll be able to see if waiting out your crush is a viable option or if you need to pass on the responsibilities to someone else."

It wasn't the perfect solution, but it was better than anything Damian had come up with. Anything that could potentially alleviate Damian's inability to focus on the investigation was worth trying. "Fine," Damian replied curtly. "Thank you for your assistance."

"No problem," said Richard. "You know, I would love to get to meet Marinette sometime."

"Don't push your luck," grumbled Damian, ignoring Richard's laughter as he stood up and left the room. There would be no way to hide the fact that Marinette was coming over to the Manor from his family. There was also no way that his family wouldn't intrude upon Damian and Marinette as they worked. However, if he explained everything beforehand and phrased everything in precisely the right way, he might be able to pass off his odd behavior towards Marinette as a part of his investigation. Damian pulled out his phone and composed a text to send to the family groupchat.

Damian: Dupain-Cheng is coming to the Manor at approximately 22:00 to work on a history project. I will be covertly conducting my investigation. From what I have gathered, she would respond better to subtle questioning, rather than a straightforward interrogation.

Tim: wait does subtle interrogation mean that you'll be flirting with her???

Jason: I need to see this

Steph: I'm willing to bet money that his flirting offends Marinette so much she storms out of the Manor before Damian can finish the mission

Dick: No way. I'll bet 20 dollars that his flirting works too well

Steph: done

Damian huffed, half tempted to call off his meeting with Marinette. His siblings were insufferable.

Damian: Please refrain from intervening. Confirming that Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug is a vital first step in determining whether the Justice League needs to interfere in the affairs of the Order of the Miraculous.

Bruce: Damian is correct. No one will bother him while he is working with Marinette.

Damian smirked as he turned his phone off. His plan wasn't foolproof, of course, but a direct order from Bruce to not interfere would force his siblings to be more subtle about spying on him and Marinette. The chance of him being interrupted was significantly decreased.

Damian got everything set up in the den, which was only ever used on family movie night. It was perfectly situated for the task at hand - a room small enough to be classed as cozy but big enough to not feel cramped. It was out of the way, surrounded by other equally unused rooms, so his siblings would have no excuse for lurking in the hallway outside. Damian brought in snacks, chargers, and a few books from the Wayne Manor library on Renaissance Art, the topic of their project.

Marinette arrived promptly at 2 in the afternoon, holding a Tupperware container full of gingerbread cookies, with a smile on her face. "Hi, Damian. I brought cookies."

None of his planning accounted for this moment, for first laying eyes on Marinette. Damian froze up, desperate to put the right words in the right order. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette. I have everything set up in the den if you'll just follow me."

"Sure." Marinette toed off her black boots and arranged them on the shoe tray next to the door. She was left in sage green cat-print socks that matched the rest of her outfit, a pine green sweater and black jeans. Damian couldn't help but wonder if she knit the sweater herself - Marinette's talent for designing was well-known throughout Gotham Academy, as it was what got her accepted into the prestigious high school in the first place.

Marinette followed Damian through the Manor, complimenting little details that Damian had never noticed before - the pattern of the curtains, the bay window in a sitting room that Damian had never bothered to enter, the family pictures that lined the wall in the hallway. Marinette made it seem so obvious to pay attention to those little details. Damian wished that he could see the Manor for the first time through her eyes and feel the same amazement that she felt as she oohed and awed over the decadence that Damian had considered banal.

Damian was so captivated by Marinette that he almost missed the fact that Drake and Brown were lurking in the study across the hall from the den. A text to his father about the gravity of his mission would be enough to get them sent away on some inconsequential but time-consuming task. Damian would have to find an inconspicuous time to pull out his phone during their work on the project to let his father know about their intrusion.

"Now I know why you call it Wayne Manor. This place is huge." Marinette shrugged off her backpack and set it down on the coffee table next to her container of cookies.

"Its size is entirely unnecessary for ordinary life," agreed Damian. "However, it makes for very challenging games of hide-and-seek."

Marinette giggled. "That sounds like fun. You'll have to invite me next time you play."

"I'll make sure of it." Damian smiled, surprised to find that his happiness wasn't forced. He rarely engaged in childish behavior, and even more rarely did he find any enjoyment in it. Yet the mental image of playing a child's game with Marinette was pleasant to him. The feelings he had for her were deeper than Damian anticipated.

The pair got to work on their project. Damian sent out the text to his father as soon as he opened his laptop, leaving Marinette under the impression that he was researching sources. A series of irritable texts in the family groupchat confirmed the fact that Drake and Brown had been removed from their hiding spot.

"Do you want to try a cookie?" asked Marinette, pushing the Tupperware towards Damian.

"Thank you." Damian took one, just to be polite. Growing up in the League of Assassins, he never really had a taste for sweets. Alfred's baking was the extent of what he would tolerate. He took a bite - small, to back up his claim that he already ate if it turned out to be inedible. Surprisingly, it was nearly as good as Alfred's gingerbread cookies, and those were tailer made to Damian's taste. The cookies were heavy on the ginger and cloves, just as Damian liked. "These are delicious," Damian professed.

Marinette blushed. "Thanks. I know they taste a little different than store-bought gingerbread. My parents make them with a lot of ginger."

"These are much superior to store-bought cookies."

"Thanks. You know, you're a lot nicer outside of school. You always seemed kind of grumpy in class."

"I'm not a fan of the state-mandated curriculum."

Marinette nodded. "I get what you mean. I barely have any room in my schedule for my design classes, with all the mandatory classes that Gotham Academy makes us take. I'm lucky that I have my internship, otherwise, I think I would go crazy, taking so many classes that I don't care about."

"Your internship is with Audrey Bourgeoise, isn't it?"

Marinette nodded. "I was friends with her daughter, back in Paris. Originally it was going to be a four-year internship in New York City, but I renegotiated some of the terms so that I could do the first two years in Paris, then the last two in Gotham, while she established the new branch of her company."

"You renegotiated the terms of a prestigious internship at the age of fourteen? Weren't you afraid of losing it if you pushed too hard?"

Marinette shrugged, nonchalant as if it were normal for an intern to make such a bold move. "I didn't want to leave Paris. My whole life was there. I wasn't ready to just pick up and move to a new country."

"What changed that you were able to come to Gotham?"

"There were a lot of reasons. Hawkmoth was the biggest one. I felt nervous about leaving my family and friends behind when he was terrorizing the city. After he was defeated I felt a lot more comfortable leaving."

That aligned with the theory that Marinette was Ladybug. "What were the other reasons?"

"My age was one. I didn't feel ready to leave home at fourteen and my parents didn't like the idea of me leaving home that young either. Another big one was the fact that I didn't have a good handle on my personal style. I was worried that designing full-time in Audrey Bourgeoise's office would cause me to lose my originality. The worst thing I could imagine was watering down my designs to appeal to the rest of the fashion industry."

"Your conviction is impressive. Most in your position would not worry about selling out to obtain such a highly coveted position."

"Audrey said the same thing, though when she said it, she spoke it with annoyance, not admiration. I've never been highly motivated by wide-spread success. I don't need to be a household name to feel content with life. I just want to design clothes that I'm proud of."

The fluttering feeling in Damian's chest returned with full force, alongside a tendril of anger at the unfairness of the situation. Here was the most perfect person Damian had ever laid his eyes on, and he was forced to pick her apart piece by piece to figure out her deepest darkest secrets. Damian didn't know much about relationships, but this didn't seem like the way they were supposed to go.

"You look upset," Marinette's observation was tinged by the worry in her voice.

"I'm not upset," he assured her. "I was just wondering how I never noticed how interesting you are."

Marinette flushed, her cheeks turning pink. "What does that mean?"

Damian shrugged. While his nonchalant attitude was all a bluff, his admiration of her accomplishments was all real. "Most of our classmates feel accomplished with the most conventional of achievements. Yet you secured an internship at the side of one of the most renowned fashion critics in the world and you still stay humble about it. You weren't blind-sighted by the incredible opportunity. You fought to maintain your values, no matter if it meant losing something priceless."

Marinette's blush deepened. "That's just who I am. It's not special, it's me."

"It is you," agreed Damian. "And it is special."

Marinette gave him a wide-eyed look, shocked by the emotion in his words. "We should get back to work," she said, self-consciously rubbing one cheek with the sleeve of her green wool sweater.

"Of course," Damian amicably agreed. He had pushed far enough for intel and had managed to get to know her a little better in the process. His flirting wasn't as blatant as it could have been, but it got the job done. Richard had said that once he knew the depths of his feelings he would know what to do. Richard was right. Damian's feelings were seemingly endless, a maze of all the things he liked about Marinette, in which every corner he turned was a new quirk that he couldn't un-notice. Yet Damian didn't want to pass on the responsibility of investigating Marinette to anyone else. He wanted a reason to spend time with her.

It wasn't the best situation. Damian wished that he could get to know her organically. However, Damian wasn't the type to dwell on the could-have-been. He had an opportunity to get to know Marinette right in front of him and he wasn't going to let it go.

Hours later, after Marinette went home, Richard stopped him in the hallway. "So what did you learn?"

"My investigation has proven inconclusive. I need to further get to know Marinette Dupain-Cheng if I want to uncover her identity. For research purposes, of course."

Richard laughed. "Of course."

#maribat #daminette #marinette x damian #maridami #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #miraculous ladybug fic

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wordsnstuff · 4 years

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20 Mistakes To Avoid in Enemies To Lovers

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Weak Conflict

There should always be a strong, compelling source of tension between two people who are considered enemies. Even if their rivalry stems from external sources, such as bad blood between families or competing for a number one spot, there should always be a concrete reason why they hate each other.

Not Explaining Forgiveness

When one of these conflicts subsides, or a tense moment resolves, it should be justified. Tension and emotions shouldn’t disappear because you’re trying to stuff romantic moments in here and there. If one of your characters crosses a line and the other character chooses to forgive them, there needs to be a clear and understandable reason. It doesn’t always have to sit well with the reader. Your character can make a blatantly stupid decision, but it needs to serve the plot.

No Tension To Be Found

If your characters have to verbally or physically assault each other to demonstrate the tension between them, you’re doing it wrong. If they have to kiss for the reader to see that they like each other, you’re doing it wrong. Tension is in the little things. It’s in the instances that most people would overlook, but your characters zero-in on because the subtext is too thick to gloss over. Tension is the most important plot device in enemies-to-lovers stories, so it requires a lot of time and attention to minute details.

Conflict Solved Too Easily

If the rivalry between your characters is one misstep after another, with immediate forgiveness following, the tension won’t build correctly. You’re working your way up to a boiling over moment. A moment where everything comes out and then, once resolved, makes way for the romantic feelings to enter. If the conflicts don’t slowly build on each other, that boiling moment will come out of nowhere and be less satisfying to read. Don’t let your characters off that easily. Enemies aren’t constantly letting things slide.

Characters Changing For One Another

People don’t need to be exactly the same to see attractive qualities in one another. It’s true that relationships shift your perspective and that it occasionally results in outward changes in behavior, but one or both characters shouldn’t mold their personality around their partner.

Stupid Potion

If one of your characters has to become oblivious or avoid critical thought to maintain a relationship with that character, you haven’t made the two characters compatible enough. This is especially true when one or both of your character’s identity revolves around a higher intelligence. They should have enough in common that there doesn’t have to be a giant shift in one or both personalities to work as a couple.

The Relationship Brings Them Down

The thing about enemies to lovers stories is that the happy endings are usually an indication of the author’s view of what is and is not forgivable in a potential partner. The acceptance of someone’s past mistakes, current flaws, and future struggles. When a love story ends with a couple that repeatedly lower each other or hurt each other, that sends a bad message, and that is your responsibility to avoid. It doesn’t need a happy ending, but it should never have a destructive one.

Writing Abuse Instead of Rivalry

There is a big difference between writing two equals who have a rivalry slowly falling in love and putting aside their differences, and writing an abusive, predatory love interest who repeatedly hurts, manipulates, and gaslights the main character. Just because you can imagine the character forgiving them doesn’t mean they’re a good partner. Cheating, physical abuse, isolation, passive aggression, and manipulation are not character flaws. They’re not “mistakes” that the character needs to forgive in order to save their relationship. It’s abuse, and when you write a story between an abuser and a victim that has a happy ending, that has consequences.

Revealing Feelings In A Cliché Way

This is very subjective, however, there are also a plethora of tropes to choose from and an infinite amount of alterations you can apply to make them your own. The objective, however, is to build up to it in a way that creates a satisfying payoff, and an interesting moment that serves all of the work you’ve done to build to it. There’s nothing worse than reading chapters and chapters of build up, anticipating a big moment where sparks fly, and then having all of that tension result in a sad sputter of mediocrity.

Instant Trust

Trust is difficult to build between two people, especially when they have a complicated past. Trust is earned, no matter who you are or what you’ve been through, it’s always a process. It’s never inherent. When two characters have a history of betrayal or hurt, trust is going to be even harder to develop between them, and that process is an opportunity for more tension, character development, conflict, and eventually a satisfying resolution. Trust development is a major plot device, and I recommend you take advantage of it. It’s also a huge opportunity for building romantic tension amongst the angst of trials and tribulations.

Why Do They Hate Each Other, Though?

There’s a thin line between love and hate, and that line is infatuation; obsession. So, what put the two of them on the bad side of that line? This reason is the main conflict. The overarching plot begins with the point where that rivalry either begins or is challenged after a long while of stagnation, and it ends with the two characters crossing over that line into love. You need to make that beginning point very clear.

Rivalry Shouldn’t Just Dissolve

There needs to be a transitionary period that is tense and awkward with scattered moments that make the effort worth it to both of them. There should be a “Well, we hated each other last week and then they did some really sweet things and now I’m not so sure. Maybe we’re starting to become friends now? I feel really excited when I see them, so I must not hate them anymore, right?” period.

Complete Opposites

Yes, opposites can attract. Yes, completely different people can fit together very well and have a happy relationship, but this is a cliché and is, in most cases, poorly thought out with little to no originality.

Love With No Reason

Just like your characters need a reason to hate each other, they need a reason to love each other. There has to be something that makes them work. Not just a common hobby or characteristic or exterior aspect they share, but something that makes them fit together. If they love each other because... they can, your reader will feel like they’re watching two stupid, lonely people tolerate each other’s flaws in the interest of sex or companionship for 100 pages.

No Actual Conflict Resolution

Relationships are built through conflict resolution. Communication, empathy, effort, and understanding between two people who work to make each other happy. Hollow forgiveness is not apart of that process, and if that’s all there is, you’re not developing a realistic relationship between compatible people, you’re depicting a toxic relationship that, in the case of these origins, can be abusive.

Underusing Sexual Tension

Sexual tension is great. It’s easy to develop, it has a satisfying payoff, and it doesn’t take up a lot of space on the pages. It doesn’t have to result in x-rated material, especially if you’re writing for a young adult audience, but it’s simple and effective.

No Awkward Transition Period

A large chunk of the plot should be awkward and uncomfortable to watch. The transition should be organic and make sense for your characters, but all organic movement contains struggle. Nobody goes from hating each other to loving each other overnight, and relationships are complicated and require hard work. Show this.

Catalogue Characters

There are enough stories out there with cardboard characters and self-insert protagonists, especially in romance. Make your protagonists unique and individual. Make your characters diverse and interesting to read about. Readers should have a bit of wiggle room for imagination, but that doesn’t mean they should be filling in the blanks like your characters are Mad Libs. Don’t close your eyes and point at character archetypes to form your cast. It’s obvious and lazy.

Stagnant Tone

The tone of these stories often falls flat because in the interest of building tension, writers ignore purposeful tone shifting, scene-to-scene. Change it up, make it potent, and make a lasting impact during important moments. Suspense and anticipation shouldn’t just build during the climax and resolution.

Bad Pacing

When your readers spend hours reading a story that promises a romantic payoff, they expect to see some of it. I think that a three act structure is really effective with this type of arc, with the first third being devoted to building rival tensions, the middle third being the shift from rivals to friends, and the last third building that romantic tension and ending with a happy resolution.

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lady-elora · 3 years

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"It was love", or five reasons and five refutations of hatred for sylki

So, folks, I did it. I finally translated from Russian an amazing article about the romantic line in “Loki”. I agree with every word in it. Hope it’ll help all the sylki shipers to fend off the attacks of antis with a reasoned arguments.

Would you like to talk about our god Odin the most controversial Marvel franchise pairing which caused a storm of indignation and negative emotions on the part of fans?

We're talking about Loki/Sylvie from "Loki" (2021) mini-series, or sylki (lovie) as they were called by fans. Apparently a simple get-pairing consisting of a man and a woman (or bisexual gender fluids, if you prefer), but some people were shocked by such a relationship on the screen. Why? What for? How? That may be your questions. So we’ll discuss their claims and groundlessness of them in this article.

But before we start talking about it, I want to clarify what actually the concept of the "selfcest" is.

Usually we marked as a "selfcest" those works that describe the relationship of a character with himself. Most often, this warning implies a "doubling" of the character; alternatively – the same character is taken at different ages or falls for his/her absolutely identical copies.

Agreed?

Let's go then.

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The first and main thing which follows from the definition above is: "Showing the selfcest on the screen is disgusting and immoral!"

It also follows from the definition above that the selfcest is the relationship of the same character with himself in the form of identical copies both in character and appearance. The highest form of narcissism, according to Mobius (which, in fact, is to some extent true). Horrors from a snuffbox, according to some impressionable audience. It hardly makes sense to rant about the fact that masturbation is also a form of selfcest (although the fact is rather amusing).

The bottom line is that if Loki once again created a copy of himself to deceive someone and fell in love with it, it would be a selfcest. Splitting himself into two people and building a relationship between them is a selfcest as well. Turning into a hermaphrodite and ... no, this is something completely perverted.

The basis of the selfcest is absolute identity. If we take a character who is so in love with him/herself that he/she sees relationships only with him/herself, then in such a case he/she can only build them with a perfect scanned copy of him/herself. It will be very easy for the person who knows him/herself inside and out to notice some inconsistencies in a partner, and then it makes no sense to build a relationship if he/she is not as perfect (as the "original" is), isn’t it? That’s how this logic works.

And now attention, please!

Is the romance of two Elvis Presley understudies a selfcest?

They look almost the same, both like Elvis... But no, right? These two people are different people, with different tempers and lives, who are similar only in appearance and pseudonyms. So this is a very ordinary relationship.

Now let's get back to our sheep. So we have two people from different worlds, with different stories, different tempers, different powers and different external signs who were born under the same name and later lived their lives with different ones. The only thing that is identical in them is the essence of the God of Mischief. So where is the ground for an egoistic selfcest? Nowhere.

Don't forget about identity. We can say that they are very similar, since initially they are both Lokis. But do you wanna say it's so hard to meet similar people in real life? No. Do you wanna say it's hard to meet similar people in two similar universes? No. I'll tell you a secret: writers often like to use the trope of intertwining almost identical tempers between characters to show their mental connection. And it's not a crime, but a common technique. And, again, a "similarity" doesn't fall under the criteria of selfcest.

And finally, if Sylvie were an exact copy of Loki, would there be people who love one but can't stand the other? It's the same character after all, so what's the problem? But the point is that Loki is Loki. And Sylvie is Sylvie. They exist separately from each other and are not the same due to the presence of distinctive features.

If you want to use Kang's words, remember that he admired these two.

< < < 2 > > >

The second and no less amusing is "Loki doesn't need a love interest at all!"

I'm sorry, but which Loki?

The one who appeared in all the films of the series "Thor" and "The Avengers"?

He's dead, guys.

And Loki from the series is a character torn out from the finale of the first "Avengers" and revamped by TVA with the help of an impromptu session of psychologist Mobius and viewing on-screen all of his promising deeds. This Loki was told head-on that he was created as a minor character in order to plot his machinations for the development of the protagonists and he was unnecessary to the whole world. This Loki has an advantage over the previously known version of himself just in knowing this fact. This Loki has recognized for everyone and for himself that he didn't want to harm the others. And this Loki, by definition, is already a different character, but for some reason people tailor him to a long-familiar one, ignoring the obvious things point-blank.

He is no stranger to simple human feelings, because every version of the God of Mischief is initially an offended and despised child grown up in the shadow of his own brother, a child who just wanted to be loved too and in the same way. Only the paths to this under-goal were different for all Lokis. One killed Thor in order to remain the only ruler (people always adore kings), another invented unthinkable feats (people love heroes), the third built a perfect world out of promises for everyone, the fourth tried to become a hero himself, but was too crushed to find mistakes in his plan, the fifth excluded himself from the equation so that everyone understood he didn't want to harm the others and to cause the pain.

Loki from the series is a version that knows everything about himself, but at the same time is not bound by the framework of the other variants' plot. He doesn't need to win back Asgard, to fight with Thanos, with the Avengers, with contempt and so on. He is free from borders. He is from the world where Frigga never died. He is the only Loki without the "glorious purpose". He is different.

So his attitude to other people is now different as well. It's stupid to perceive this version exactly as a long-known character.

After all he had seen, this Loki would hardly be able to live alone like any other. He is extremely naked and needs love (in any form), as the most reliable and not bringing destruction and suffering point of support.

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The third and my favorite thing is: "Love in five minutes! Why did it come out at all?"

Why did Loki fall for Sylvie, and even in a couple of days?

OK, you can quite easily explain Sylvie's motivation: she found a person who had interest for her, who suddenly cared about her, protected her... Could he be an unworthy party in such a case? Moreover, before that, Sylvie, in principle, had no close people and she internally really lacked such an attitude to herself, banal love (parents, people, friends, romantic), which she hadn’t due to the lack of normal childhood and a stable life.

But Loki?..

But Loki is not a vain killing machine from The Avengers anymore, not a person for whom the self-affirmation is the only goal in life. Let's rewind a little, and remember that he was brainwashed in TVA and lowered from heaven to earth. Loki was always reasonable. Loki could always be courteous and friendly. Loki was always a gentleman. And finally he realized that there's no sense in all this aggression and hyperbolized narcissism, and he pushed his one-actor theater aside in order to at least normally rethink the concept of time and reality.

And here comes Sylvie.

Unpredictable, dangerous, painfully similar to him, but at the same time completely different. Loki never had good intentions in his conquests; only the ways were sometimes good. Sylvie went to the good liberation of people and the return of their right to choose their lives, but through blood. In fact, she is his mirror image.

She intrigued. A wild person who swung at the destruction of the time control organization alone and coped well with it.

However, the countdown started from the moment when they both got on the train. The moment when Loki began to understand what the real essence of Sylvie was. Grown up in fear, distrustful, broken Sylvie, who was desperately trying to make TVA pay for everything. For everyone. And it was amazing for him.

Here, as for me, the Moffat's quote about his BBC Sherlock fits very well: ..when he saw her, he thought: "Maybe there can be someone like me?" – but with a slight nuance that Loki himself would like to be someone like that. Like a fighter in spite of and for the good, causing admiration. With some corrections in the form of the absence of a painful childhood, despair and anger.

Then the spring of "Loki's MeUs" begins to unwind, and the essence of it is that he understands her and her feelings, because, although they are different people, they are internally similar. Loki looks at her as if she is a person he has known for a very long time, but not completely. It's like if you met an old childhood friend seven years later: it seems to be the same, but also it seems to be different. It seems that everything is elementary, but there's not enough of a certain number of details.

(He'll realize later that he was missing much more).

So we take the initial interest, add the conditional knowledge of a person, and we get a very specific variation of the trope "from friends to lovers".

This may seem far-fetched, but we have two factors on our hands that are fundamental for this trope. Keep them in your head, but for now, let's applaud the fact that Marvel for the first time figured out how to derive formulas for the logical development of relationships in the shortest possible time. In what way? In the most elementary way: through psychology.

There's such a thing as the stages of the formation of relationships, which includes:

- Falling in love (interest, flirting, rethinking)

- Trust (challenge, joint activity, mutual assistance)

- A sense of kinship (empathy, responsibility, confidence)

- A sense of unity

- Love

In our case, only the first three points are considered, but the third one is with a chip in the form of a final. I should also focus attention on the fact we are not considering love. We are considering a serious crush, which can develop into love, since the latter one is a slightly longer process that still has to go through to the end. And we consider them in extreme (+accelerated by our two fundamental factors) conditions, where our heroes are forced to work together and trust each other in order to survive.

After reviewing the aspects of the three points we have chosen, we can easily draw analogies with the events that happened with Loki and Sylvie.

They are interested in each other, they think that they know each other, they develop in relationships with each other in a completely healthy way. A little faster than in the series for a hundred episodes maybe, but it is conditioned.

Needless to say, this is impossible and illogical: we have the clearest example of love from nowhere in the form of a couple of Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne, who had absolutely no prerequisites to it, but at the same time kissed at the end of the first film. Nothing personal, it's just a fact.

The relations of our "defendants" aren't based on carnal attraction, they didn't immediately break out ready-made due to a rush of adrenaline, they are not one-sided and not abusive. Loki and Sylvie carry about each other, support each other (if it doesn't seem so, then we'll also talk about Sylvie a little later, everything in its own time), plus sympathy and love based on the fact that a person is ready to fight with you and trust you, sounds very appropriate, doesn't it?

And yes, there are similar examples of "love in five minutes" in life, which I've also seen. This is real.

< < < 4 > > >

The fourth thing which also makes me roll my eyes is "Sylvie didn't need relationships at all and she didn't care about Loki."

So let's make a small lyrical digression and think about who Sylvie is.

The Goddess of Mischief? Yep, but far from Loki, which means there's no sense to adjust her to the same classic image. As a child, Sylvie was dragged out of her own world. As a child, Sylvie fled across the time with fear and horror from TVA. Sylvie hid all her conscious life and saw people dying around her over and over again. Sylvie knew that outside of the apocalypses millions are simply dying from the hands of TVA too. She was alone all the time, during all her life she developed anger and hatred for this organization, until revenge for herself and for others became the only meaning of her life.

And here comes Loki.

Another version of the God of Mischief, which forces her to rebuild the plan on the go, in order to still bring it to the end. Frivolous, broken, stucked up Loki. He lazily, automatically puts sticks in her wheels. And then, on Lamentis, he suddenly decides to fight with her and help. After that, he completely trusts her with his life and cares about her own. And it seems to her like some kind of nonsense, like another trick, an invention for personal gain. Sylvie understands the essence of Loki, but she can't perceive him the way he perceives her. She sees in him what she could have become without the intervention of TVA.

But after that rush through the city, after realizing the hopelessness of the situation, when he says he is sorry and he thinks she is amazing, something clicks in her head. No one has ever cared about her (in this regard, she is not like Loki, who had at least Frigga), and now Loki, who knows her only from the archives and her meager life-story, who dragged her into the apocalypse, but also tried his best to help her to get out, just says that he is fascinated.

Sylvie grew up with her own concept of truth and lies: for her, there's only her truth and the eternal deception from the others. And then she thinks: may it be that..?

The thoughts that no one on the entire Timeline needs her, and that she should have recognized the lie, are marinating in her head to the end. Loki is not like the people she has spent her whole life with (he looks more like her, understands more or tries to understand at least; he believes), Loki behaves strangely and worries about her. Sylvie can't believe it (her past affects her completely), but subconsciously she wants someone to really care about her.

And she starts taking care of Loki in return. She comes closer and closer, but at the same time she is ready to turn around and rush back at any moment. Because she's scared. Sophia Di Martino says that for Sylvie, feelings are something new, unknown, and such things always cause fear in people. She tries to deny it, to be ironic, she's waiting for a trick, but doesn't move away.

She's just thinking: "Come on. Betray me. Betray me so that I'll be right again and trust no one anymore."

But Loki doesn't betray her. On the contrary: he recognizes that he cares of her, he tries to protect her with all his might. And that's the moment when Sylvie finally falls in love. That's why she pushes him through the portal to TVA which – the Multiverse is being formed, yay – is the safest place at the time.

Why didn't she give up on killing Kang? Because that was her glorious purpose. Sylvie lived with the revenge and the dream of saving everyone from the dictator and she just couldn't give up all this after the horrors that she experienced in her life. Blood, death and fear – that's what she saw during all these years. But Loki didn't see that so he couldn't understand. That's why Sylvie didn't listen to him.

And if she didn't care about Loki, if she didn't feel anything at all, Sylvie would have killed him the moment her sword was at his neck. She'd killed before – it wouldn't be a problem. But she does care of Loki.

< < < 5 > > >

The fifth and final thing is "These relationships hinder the development of both characters!"

And that's the funniest claim from those who watched the series with their eyes closed.

During the series, Sylvie and Loki are revealed from new sides thanks to their feelings. Caring for others, compassion, responsibility, the very fact of showing love for another person – all this develops them both. The friendship was shown through Mobius. The family has always been represented by Thor, Odin and Frigga. But showrunners wanted to reveal Loki from all sides, decompose him into components and show what he is from the inside in all aspects. And they did it.

Loki, who doesn't care about the fate of the Universe, and who only wants to regain world domination again, turns into a hero who wants to save the whole world. And one more person.

With Sylvie, it's a little more difficult, due to the fact that her life was also more difficult. Her case is more lost. However, in the end we see that such a long-awaited retribution doesn't bring her satisfaction. Because she understands the wrongness of this act, she regrets it and realizes that everything was wrong. But she realizes it too late.

If we had cut Loki out of her life, Sylvie would have killed the Keeper without any guilt, without feeling remorse, because she wouldn't have known that everything could be different, that she might choose another way.

This is what is called character development.

Sophia says both Loki and Sylvie feel the same, they grow together, but at different rates. And by the end of the series, Sylvie is approximately where Loki was after a psychotherapy session with Mobius. But not at the very beginning – that's what's important.

I hope this article has at least a little explained the whole essence of sylki pairing, because surely I'm not Tom and Sophia, who know their characters best. However, trying is something, isn't it?

Thanks for attention ;)

Source: «Это была любовь», или пять причин и пять опровержений ненависти к Sylki

#loki #sylvie #loki x sylvie #loki series #sylki #lovie #lovedaggers #fandom analytics #translation from russian

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