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#implying the opposite of his personality is being straight
jazzyoranges · 5 months
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Harleys in Hawaii
Tara Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: you’re Tara’s older girlfriend
Words: 4.5k
A/n: listen to harleys in hawaii
Warnings: i didn’t feel like editing or spell checking sorry bout that 💀, age gap (Tara is 22/23, you’re 27), drinking, kissing, fade to black sex, R is implied to dress more masculine, also Scream 6 doesn’t exist cause Anika is alive 😇
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Tara has gone through 3 girlfriends and 5 boyfriends in the span of 5 months. Currently, she’s having an intervention on how and why. Well, the core four’s version of an intervention at least
“Dude, you have to teach me how to get a girlfriend” Chad begs, and Mindy laughs
“Why am I even here? You guys suck at interventions. If anything, this is the opposite of one”
This time, her sister chimes in. “We’re here because you’ve been going through partners like pairs of clothes. Why are you dating all these people?”
“I don’t know!” Tara groans “In the beginning it’s to be fun dating someone, but after a week it feels like a chore”
“Wow, never knew you of all people would have the same mindset of a frat boy” This earns Mindy a slap on her shoulder from Anika, who was cuddled into her
“Shut up Mindy.” the younger Carpenter spits out
“So you date people and drop them ‘cause they don’t give you the thrill of being in a relationship?” Chad says and everyone in the room goes silent. Momentarily, he stops throwing his tennis ball up in the air
“…Did I say something wrong?”
“Never knew you could be smart, Chad”
“Sometimes I wish we weren’t related.”
“Is that it, Tara?” Sam asks “You just want the thrill of dating?”
“When you put it that way, I guess? I dunno, I haven’t really met anyone exciting. You’d think there’d be fun people in New York”
“You just haven’t met the right person, Tara. I’m sure there’s someone for you, you just suck at looking”
“Oh, really? Where am I supposed to look, then?”
“I dunno, definitely not where you’re looking right now” Mindy shrugs, and Tara sighs at how helpful her friends are
You meet you coworker’s sister when her and her friends decide to have a study session at the small coffee shop you and Sam work at. You and the older Carpenter instantly clicked as friends. Sam knew you knew about the Woodsboro killings, but you knew not to trust the media entirely. After a few weeks of talking to her, you didn’t understand how Sam could be accused of such disgusting things
Your friendship solidified when you ‘accidentally’ spilled an ice cream sundae on some girl who was being mean to her. Of course you were fired the next day, but Sam left with you, opting to work at a smaller coffee shop run by a nice old man and his lovely wife
Sam considered you a good friend, and she trusted you with being around her sister. Luckily the old couple who ran the shop were kind and trusting, and let Sam’s sister and friends use the coffee shop after hours for late-night studying. It was maybe about 6:30pm when the shop officially closed, and the study session started. Sam insisted she stay by herself, but you didn’t want her to be lonely while watching her kids friends study
Personally, you thought it was far too late to study, but you also hadn’t been to school in 3 years. Soft music was playing while the group studied and you and Sam cleaned up the shop here and there
Tara tried to focus on her work, she really did. After a few glances in your direction and many “sorry, what did you say?”’s later, Mindy finally decided to comment on Tara’s behavior. I mean, could she really be mad? You were breathtaking. Your shirt hugged your arms and torso just the right way, you hand a very pretty face, most of all, you were-
“Alright, what’s up with you? You’ve been distracted this entire time”
“I’m not distracted, I’m listening” Tara lied straight through her teeth, and Mindy just looked at her in suspicion
“You’ve seemed out of it this entire study session, you okay?” Anika reached to rub Tara’s shoulder
“Uh, y-yeah” Tara turned around in her seat looking for you. When she saw you were either in the break room or the bathroom, Tara leaned in closer to the group and so did her friends
“Sam’s friend is really hot.”
“Understandable” Chad nods
“Definitely ask her out”
“Like hell I am, Mindy!” Tara whisper-shouts
You’re about to leave for the night. Gathering your jacket, helmet, and keys from your locker, you barely make it out of the break room before one of Sam’s friends calls you over
“Hey, Sam’s coworker! Are you good at algebra?
“A little above average, why do you ask? You walk over to the booth they’re studying at. You miss the glare the brunette gives to her friend
Mindy motions to Tara “My friend over here is having a little trouble, and we’re all not really good at explaining. Could you help her?”
“Also,” the twin points at each of her friends “Anika, Chad, Tara, and I’m Mindy”
You pull up a chair to sit next to Tara “Y/N, nice to meet all of you. Sam says lots of good things”
“Likewise, Sam told us about what you did for her. We all appreciate it” Anika smiles
“Those girls were assholes,” you shrug “they deserved it.” Now focusing on Tara, you met her eyes while the rest of the group fell into discussion
“So, what exactly do you need help with?”
Tara tries to listen to what you’re saying, but everything is going in one ear and out the other with your proximity to her. You make simple small talk with Tara, and she notes how the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The brunette learns you’re about the same age as her sister, you have a second job as a mechanic, and you owned a motorcycle (in which her interest was immediately peaked).
A few hours of conversation and studying later, the group decides they’re finished. They pile into Sam’s car to be dropped off at their respective apartments. Unfortunately due to a little clutter, there isn’t enough room for Tara in the car (which is surprising since she’s incredibly small, but you decide to hold your tongue this time)
“Cmon, guys, can’t you make some room?” the brunette groans
“You could ride with Y/n,” Sam suggests “I trust her to get you home”
“Yeah, I got an extra helmet in my locker, I’ll go get it” You jog back to the shop, and you’re back a minute later with a helmet in one hand, and a hoodie in the other. Your hoodie, Tara thinks
“Here, it gets cold. Is this your first time?”
“Yeah, I’ve never been on a motorcycle before…” Tara says nervously, and she has to stop herself from taking a big whiff of your hoodie around her
“No worries! If you get scared just squeeze my thigh and I’ll pull over, okay? Also, make sure to hold on tight” You put the helmet on Tara, inspecting her to make sure it’s on correctly
“Geez, it feels like I’m an astronaut” Tara laughs, flipping up the visor
“Doesn’t it? I always feel like a bobble head or something when I’m in it” You teach Tara how to get on, and soon enough you’re on the road following Sam’s car
Tara’s arms were snugly wrapped around your torso, and she was absolutely having the time of her life. The helmet she was wearing smelled like you and it was absolutely intoxicating. Not to mention how your hoodie sat comfortably on her body — almost like it was meant for her to wear. Deciding to be bold, Tara decides to hug you tighter
When you two eventually stop at a stoplight, you hold out a thumbs up, questioning if Tara is comfortable. The brunette responds with a thumbs up of her own, and the slow circles she’s making with her thumb under your shirt that leave a trail of goosebumps behind
First Sam stops at Mindy and Anika’s, then Chads. Since there’s more room in the car Tara doesn’t actually need to stay with you, but she’s practically glued to your back. The brunette decides to be greedy and hold on
A few minutes later, you two reach Tara and Sam’s apartment complex. When you come to a stop the younger Carpenter gets off first, and you follow after
“So, how was your first time on a motorcycle? Scary?”
“Honestly? Not really. I trust you won’t crash, or else Sam’ll get real mad at you” Taking off her helmet, you get the pleasure of seeing Tara smile again. She starts to take off your hoodie, but you stop her before she does
“Keep it, I already have a bunch of other hoodies and jackets at my place”
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t be saying it if I wasn’t sure, Carpenter”
“You’re an ass” Tara rolls her eyes and playfully hits your arm
“Nice meeting you and your friends, by the way. I’ll see you guys around” After you wave bye and hop back on your motorcycle Tara watches you leave, pulling your hoodie closer to her body
Study sessions at the coffee shop after closing time became more and more regular. Sometimes it’s just Sam closing up, and other times it’s just you. Tara still regrets telling the group about her very tiny minuscule crush on you, since you’re now used as blackmail to get Tara to go anywhere
“Wanna go to the movies?”
“Sorry, I have to finish an essay”
“Y/n’s gonna be there” Mindy says in a sing-song tone
“Fuck you.” Tara groans before grabbing her jacket, fully expecting to be invited for a motorcycle ride from you
At first Tara only saw you during study sessions at the coffee shop. It was the same story almost every time. There wouldn’t be enough room in Sam’s car, you’d drive Tara home, and if she was lucky you’d stop at a 7 Eleven for slushees and a snack
When Sam invites you to a game night with the group, you happily accept the invitation. With a bottle of wine in your left hand, you make some final adjustments to your outfit before knocking. Smoothing out your shirt, you hear a familiar voice behind the door
“So, are you gonna stand there or are you going to knock?” The younger Carpenter teases, and she can practically hear you roll your eyes when you scoff
“I was making myself presentable” You shrug, hearing the click of the door as Tara opens it
“Whatever,” The shorter girl laughs “You’re kinda early so you can wait on the couch or something” She takes the bottle of wine from your hands, setting down on a table
“Geez, don’t people have manners nowadays? I thought it was a given to arrive early”
“I think that’s just you being old”
“You’re mean.” Tara’s face collides with a pillow as she turns around and the brunette can faintly hear you say ‘headshot!’ in an excited voice
“Me? Mean? You just assaulted me!”
“You’ll live. Mario Kart?” You wave a second controller in her direction with the game already booted up, and Tara takes her seat next to you on the floor
The next few minutes are spent casually trash-talking each other. When you get particularly close to winning Tara shoves you to the floor, causing you to lose. A smug grin adorns her face when you throw another pillow at her
“Stop throwing pillows at me!” Tara laughs
“You quite literally shoved me to the floor ‘cause you’re not as good as me”
“Shut up, you’ve have more experience”
“Are you calling me old again?” You say in a dramatic tone, and the door rings a whole 20 minutes after the rest of the group is supposed to show up. Sam lets them in, and you wave hello. Mindy gives Tara a look you don’t recognize, but Chad quickly challenges you to another game of Mario Kart
The twin tried his best, he really did. He took the shortcuts, chose the best character, and even optimized his power-ups. But alas, his efforts were rendered useless as you casually mopped the floor with his ass. The scoreboard with your name at the top is enough for Chad to groan in defeat
“Dude, how are you so good?”
“I guess I just have more experience”
“So you can say it but I can’t?” You end up sticking your tongue out at Tara like a child
“Whatever. You guys got any other games?”
“We have Uno” Sam suggests
Oh how foolish she was.
Arguing, wine, and lots of popcorn later, you’re currently in a battle for 4th place with Tara. Fifteen minutes after Chad won 3rd, both of you insisted a 4th place winner. When you put down a plus four twice in a row, the group only groans
“Please are you two almost done?”
“It’s Uno. How about we play another game?” Chad pleads
“Absolutely not. I refuse to lose to a girl that’s basically half my height.”
“Half your height!? You’ll probably be balding by 30!”
“You take that back!” You slam a hand against the table, and your friends can’t tell if they should intervene or watch the argument play out. They choose the latter
Shallow insults are exchanged between you two and the rest of the group finally understands both of you aren’t serious. They decide to leave you two to pick up some pizza, and you’re far too busy arguing how you’re not going to go bald at 30. Really, whose idea was it to give the most competitive people copious amounts of wine?
Eventually your arguing dies down, leaving you both giggling like middle school kids when they see their crush. The absurdity of the situation paired with the wine you both drank made a very fun combo
“Sorry I said you’d bald by 30” Tara leans onto your shoulder and you lay your head atop hers
“It’s okay. Sorry I said you were half my height… even if it’s true” You smile and Tara hits your arm while suppressing a grin
“You mind if I sleep here tonight? Pretty sure I can’t drive my baby in this state”
“Your baby?”
“My motorcycle. Her name is Elizabeth” You nudge her shoulder
“You named your motorcycle?
“It’s how you create attachment, Tara. You name everything so you care more about it”
“God, you’re a weirdo.” The younger Carpenter leans into you even further
“You never answered my question”
“Hmm… I think Sam wouldn’t mind”
“But would you mind?”
“No, you’re my friend”
A comfortable silence passes between you two. Tara, half asleep on your shoulder; and you, trying to formulate a plan to get Tara in her bed. The only good idea you’ve thought of is carrying her, so that’s what you decide to do
Tara makes a sound then holds onto your shirt as you scoop her up from the couch. There’s a feeling in her stomach she can’t quite place when your arms wrap around her. You’re warm, and Tara only wants to get closer to your body heat
“Tara, honey, where’s your room?” You whisper. The pet name accidentally slips, and you hope the younger girl doesn’t notice.
Oh but she does
Tara notices and opts to bury her head in you chest, pointing in the direction of her room. She can feel her face warm up immediately
You open up the door all the way with your foot, and lay Tara down in her bed. You’re about to leave to probably sleep on the couch, but you feel a hand around your wrist and Tara mumble something sleepily
“You alright, Tar?” You bend down
“Please stay… don’t go.” The younger Carpenter whispers, and you wouldn’t be able to hear her if not your close proximity
“I’ll be in the living room, don’t worry. I don’t drink and drive”
“No, I mean stay here.”
“You… You want me to stay in your room?”
Tara nods.
“I- I don’t know, Tara.” You were hesitant to accept her invitation.
“I won’t be far, I promise”
“I don’t care you’re older than me.”
“W-What?”
“Please, you make me so happy. People my age are so dull…” Tara takes your hand in her own, playing with your fingers
“You don’t mean that, Tar. You’re drunk and tired. How about you get some sleep, hm?” You say in the softest voice you can manage, pushing away the thoughts of how badly you just want to hold Tara in your arms again
“Y/n…” Something in you shifts when the brunette says your name in her sleep-drunk state. You notice the pleading look in her eyes, and it’s difficult to imagine saying no to her
“I can’t say no to you.” You sigh, taking off your jacket before getting in bed. Tara immediately curls up against your chest like it’s the most natural thing ever and you wrap your arms around her waist like it’s second nature
“Thank you. I really like you, Y/n”
“If you end up regretting this I’ll pretend like nothing’s happened if you want”
“No!” Both you and Tara are surprised by her tone
“I- I mean no. I promise I won’t regret this. Regret… you.” She says in a smaller voice
“Do you like me too?” Tara looks up at you with hope in her eyes and your heart melts at the sight
“I don’t know, Tara. Part of me thinks this is wrong, and the other part just wants to spend time with you.”
“Ever since… Amber, you’ve helped me move on” This was the most Tara has opened up about her late girlfriend. Of course the group told you a few tiny things about her here and there, but you hadn’t heard from Tara straight up. You knew this was a very hard and difficult subject even as time continued to pas
“You don’t need to feel like you have to tell me about her, Tara. How about we sleep? You’ll have a clearer mind tomorrow” Pressing a kiss against her forehead, your girlfriend(?) smiles
“…can I wear your shirt?”
“I’m right here, you know”
“I wanna be closer to you”
“Go actually get ready for bed, Tara. I know you don’t wanna sleep with makeup on” The brunette gets up to leave but decides to double back and give you a kiss on the cheek, leaving you a subtle lipstick mark
You hate how she makes you all giddy like a teenager in love.
Getting up to ask Tara if she has an oversized hoodie you could sleep in, you’re caught in the hallway by Sam. You only notice how bad it looks you’re walking out Tara’s room with messy hair, ruffled clothes, and a noticeable kiss on your cheek. You’re quick to wipe it off and smooth out your hair a second later
“Sam, it’s not what it looks like.” You say quickly
“I dunno, it really looks like you’re fucking my sister”
“I-It’s not like that! She- I uh-“
“Listen, I don’t mind you’re dating my sister. Would’ve wished you told me, though”
“That’s the thing! I have no idea what we are” You look behind to look for Tara before turning back to Sam
“She said she really liked me, but then she’s also drunk, but then she also kissed me. What if she doesn’t actually mean it? What if she regrets this? What if-” You’re talking quickly and about to start pacing around before Sam grounds you by holding onto your shoulders
“I trust you, Y/n. You’re my friend. I trust you’ll take good care of my sister”
The older Carpenter gives you a quick hug before leaving to her own room, leaving you staring at nothing as the door to the bathroom clicks open
“Y/n? You alright?” Tara pulls you into a hug, shoving her face in your neck
“Y-Yeah, do you have a hoodie I could sleep in?”
“Mmm… I think I have one in your size” The shorter girl leads you to her closet. A few seconds of searching lands you a hoodie with an album cover you don’t recognize. Tara notices your confusion
“Tyler the creator”
“Is he any good?”
“Well duh, I wouldn’t have him on a hoodie if he wasn’t”
“Okay smart ass, no need to be mean” You feign annoyance and the brunette can only roll her eyes and drag you into bed for the second time this night
Both of you get into position again. Tara’s arms securely wrapped around your torso, and your arms that bring her closer to your neck. You decide it isn’t so bad you’re in love with Tara Carpenter
You and Sam meet the rest of the group at their college. The lovely older couple that ran the coffee shop insisted you two spent time with Tara. They may as well be your parents with how much they treat you and Sam like their own kin. With the rest of the day to spoil Tara, you happily jump onto her with open arms while spewing a slew of praises and compliments
Your girlfriend should probably be embarrassed at how loud your affection is, but it’s New York. Who really cares? When you’re done being yourself, Sam also gives Tara a bear hug
“So, what’re the plans, birthday girl?” Mindy asks
“Honestly? I just wanna spend time with you guys”
“How disgustingly cute. I think that’s a great idea, babe”
“Are you kidding?” Chad speaks up “The last time we all spent time together, you two were fighting for 4th place in Uno. Fourth place!”
“I think you’re being over dramatic, bud”
“You looked like you were about to flip the fucking table when Tara made you draw 12 cards”
“Like I said, stacking is a curse that makes me angry”
“I gotta agree with Chad, here” Sam chimes in “You almost killed Tara because of Jenga”
“It’s not my fault your little sister is a pathological liar and a gaslighter!” The younger Carpenter rolls her eyes
“You’re awfully childish for someone that’s so old” Your girlfriend laughs, making you look away, embarrassed
“It’s not my fault I’m competitive!”
“So, where do you wanna eat out, Tara?” Anika asks “I’ve been starving practically all day”
“Hooters.” The brunette answers almost immediately
“So, birthday girl, what’s it like being 23?”
“A lot like being 22”
“Noting different?”
“Well, this is the first year you’re here to celebrate with me” Tara turns on her side to face you “I guess that’s pretty special”
You copy her actions, now looking at your girlfriend
“Oh yeah? What’s so special about me being here?”
“Please, you really don’t need a bigger ego”
“Aw you’re no fun”
“I’m plenty fun, babe” Tara reaches down to the hem of your shirt, feeling the skin right above your pants
“Mhm, and what type of fun?”
“You’re such a tease.” Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. Both of you are inching closer to each other to close the gap. You blink for half a second, and Tara straddles your lap with a hungry look in her eyes and a smile that highlights her cute dimples
Diving into you, Tara kisses you with fervor and lust. Her kisses are sloppy, but you don’t really care. Currently, the only thing in your mind is Tara’s name on repeat. Both of your clothes are off in only a matter of seconds due to the brunette’s growing eagerness of wanting your fingers inside of her
“A-Are you sure about this?” You mumble in between kisses and pecks
“Absolutely positive, baby.” Your girlfriend’s ever growing wetness smears on the skin of your exposed thigh, making you sigh in delight
“If you don’t want to keep going, just tell me and I’ll-“
“Y/n.” Your head snaps up at the brunette saying your name
“I want this. I want all of you. Drill it into your pretty brain, yeah?” Tara makes an act of lightly drilling her finger into the side of your head, making you laugh
When you kiss Tara for a second time it feels different. Her lips taste sweeter and all you want to do is give her the entire world. Unfortunately you’re only mortal, so you opt to give her a few lot of mind blowing orgasms instead
“So, what’re your plans for the break?”
“We were actually planning a road trip to the beach this weekend to celebrate, and you’re coming”
“No room for debate, huh?” You laugh, swinging an arm over her shoulders “I’ll have to bring my truck, though. Elizabeth is 100% going”
“Sometimes I think you like her more than me”
“You may be my girlfriend, but Elizabeth is my first love” This earns you a punch to the arm via Tara. Although it doesn’t hurt much, you feign a wounded expression and place the back of your hand to your forehead
“Woe is I, for my girlfriend no longer loves me…”
“You’ll be okay” Tara rolls her eyes
“Kiss it better?”
“Please can we have a ride without our helmets?”
“Sam wouldn’t forgive me if we crashed and you weren’t wearing a helmet”
“Please, baby?” Tara uses her best puppy eyes, and she knows they’re working when you look away to resist her charm
“The sunset is beautiful, the back roads are empty, and I want to spend our last moments here on the beach. Don’t you want to see the view, baby?”
You sigh, looking away. This girl was going to be the death of you.
“Well after such a confession, I don’t think I’m able to say anything other than yes” Tara kisses you on the tip of your nose, making it scrunch up just how she liked it
“This is gonna be so aesthetic, babe”
“…Aesthetic?”
“You’re not that old, love”
Before getting on, you take two spare sunglasses from your leather jacket pocket and hold them out for Tara
“Aviator or round?”
“You take the Aviators, I want you to look like one of those guys from Top Gun” Tara takes the sunglasses out of your hand to place them on your face
“Geez, I look more like a biker than a motorcyclist now”
“There’s a difference?”
“I’ll teach you one day. Cmon, the sun’s setting already”
Tara truly believes she’s made it to heaven while you drive. Arms around your waist, the salty breeze, and not to mention the beautiful setting sun. This is what she’s always been craving
Exhilarated is how she’d describe being around you. The simplest touches sent shivers down her spine. The tiniest glances made Tara’s heart giddy with joy. How couldn’t she fall for you? Picture-perfect is what you were. Not boring, not simple, not easy. You were… you
With sand in you hair from previous beach endeavors and a smile wide enough your girlfriend can see just from looking at the back of your head, Tara can’t image herself anywhere but with you
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teatreeoilll · 3 months
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Give it Back - Gojo Satoru X Reader
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w/c - 0.6k content - fem!reader, mentions of drinking, kissing, hidden inventory trio being a lil drunk and silly at a party outside of Jujutsu High, first kiss, drabble
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2006
As Geto playfully twisted the empty beer bottle between his fingers, you briefly recall how, no less than half an hour ago, he scoffed at the thing when someone held it to his face - proposing a game of truth or dare.
"Spin the bottle? What are we, twelve?"
As the game started, the cozy circle you were sitting in expanded quickly, taking up most of the space of the living room. You groaned at the sight of another couple of students pressing their lips together, sloppily intertwining their drunken tongues to the sound of lewd cheers and woos.
While you weren't eager to join the game, only looking for a place to sit and let your drunkness subside, you found yourself squashed between a stranger and Gojo's lanky limbs. "Move a little, won't you?" You slur, trying to ward off the nausea while watching a dot of light flicker on the spinning bottle's surface. The bottle halts, its now aggressive-looking bottleneck pointing straight at you, with Geto's intoxicated smirk on the opposite end. "Truth or dare?" Geto beams in your direction, his mind already preoccupied with all the devious things he could ask you to do in front of the group. "Truth," you sigh, eliciting the group's displeasure over the music. "Pick dare, coward," someone mocks, triggering your drunken pride.
"Alright then, dare." "Kiss the person on your left." Geto muses. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. It's not that you've deliberately dodged from having your first kiss until now. But still, after surviving so long without one, shouldn't this moment be a touch more significant? "Can't you just dare me to eat something gross, Suguru?" you chastise, utterly unaware that on the left, an angry pink blush flushes Gojo's face. "It isn't such a bad dare," Gojo whispers, leaning in as soon as you turn to him in confusion. Without missing a beat, he softly pressed his lips against yours, leaving the crowd in stunned silence. You detach yourself from him with a soft grunt, using a shaking hand to push him away. The silence in the room persists as you step out to find solace on the porch, fixating on the raindrops cascading onto the driveway. "Satoru, you idiot." Shoko scolded sharply, her voice cutting the air from her spot near Geto, "That was her first kiss." His eyes widened in response, his hand instinctively shooting out to shove himself away from his spot on the floor.
- "I'm sorry." Gojo leans on the porch rail beside you, "I thought you were being shy." He lied, too proud to admit that the possibility of you not wanting to kiss him troubled his drunken mind. "You can't both apologize and imply you did nothing wrong, Satoru." "Come on, if that were true we wouldn't have politics." His attempt to lighten the mood was met with your displeased scoff. "I'm sorry," He utters again, a hint of sincerity seeping through, "How can I make it better?" You steady your gaze back to the rain-soaked driveway, taking a moment to contemplate before delivering the verdict, "You can give it back." "Huh?" He blurts as you grab the collar of his white shirt, yanking him closer to crash your lips onto his. Still recovering from the surprise, he cups your face with his hands, catching a quick breath before parting your lips with his tongue. "It's mine now," you say triumphantly, a mischievous smile grazing your lips as you watch Gojo fix his now-ruffled hair, "I'm freezing; I'm going in." He lets out a small chuckle as you approach the entrance, only to grab your face with long, skilled fingers, planting a chaste peck on your lips. "'S mine again," He declares, rushing to the door before you, "Come and get it."
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monakisu · 2 months
Note
I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333
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HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)
but rlly… theyre so similar:
- brunet
- asshole
- pretty boy
- mass murderer
- black-haired homoerotic rival
at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.
ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:
- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))
- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).
- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!
- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!
- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).
- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!
anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!
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can u write a fic for joe where they are long distance b/c the reader lives in Seattle and she surprises him by showing up to a game.
surprise
joe burrow x reader
warnings: pure fluff!! mentions of reader previously being with shitty guys
word count: 1.6k
note: didn’t specifically place the reader in seattle, but it is implied the reader is living in pst, joe in est
thank you so much for this request!! loved writing it and i hope you enjoy <3
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Dating Joe Burrow was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Living on the opposite side of the country from him was not.
You had never thought you were the type of person who could feel truly secure in a long-distance relationship, never having known you could trust someone so fully. It turned out the issue wasn’t entirely your difficulties with trusting; it had also been the fact you were with people not deserving of such trust. The boys you had known before Joe had used any amount of physical distance to excuse their emotional distance.
Now, you awoke to a good morning voice memo from Joe every single day, reminding you of how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, how much he wished he was waking up with you beside him. He would spend hours on FaceTime with you at night, even when it meant staying up until the wee hours to make up for the time difference, despite having an early practice the following morning. He had shown you that no distance could get in the way of genuine love. Joe had changed your perspective entirely, loving you so honestly and openly you couldn’t help but feel safe placing all of your faith in him.
You never had cause to doubt his loyalty, and even when your unfounded fears about him straying threatened to take over your mind, he helped guide you back to reality. In reality, the love you shared ran deep and true. He couldn’t imagine finding someone half as beautiful, as kind, as caring as you. Neither could you imagine a more perfect man existed for you. You two were simply made for each other, two souls always destined to find a home in each other’s hearts.
He made time to fly out and visit you whenever he could, even if it was only for a weekend, knowing your school schedule made it more challenging for you to come and see him. You didn’t know how you could ever be quite as good to him as he was to you, but God, you tried. That was why you were surprising him at a home game on a random Thursday.
To Joe’s best knowledge, you were busy with finals this whole week. Little did he know, you only had exams scheduled Monday through Wednesday. You had flown into Cincinnati that morning. It had been a little hard to give Joe a convincing reason for the fact that you couldn’t FaceTime or call for six hours straight, since he knew no exam took that long, but you thought in the end he had bought your story that you had two back to back and needed to use all the time in between them for last minute review.
Now, though, you found yourself in a taxi headed to the stadium. You had gone from the airport to Joe’s place, dropping off your luggage. Even though you lived so far away, he had given you a key, more of a symbolic gesture than a practical one. Nevertheless, it was coming in handy.
The security at the stadium had been alerted of your presence, thanks to your contact with Joe’s coach, and you were led by a guard through several locked doors before emerging into the hallway that connected to the field. The security guard accompanying you let you speed walk ahead, unable to prolong being reunited with Joe for a second longer than necessary.
You emerged into the gray light of the day, the strength of the sun softened by a layer of clouds. You spotted Joe’s number nine jersey right away - it matched the one you were wearing. His back was to you as he tossed a football back and forth with Ja’Marr.
He was out of earshot, but Tee wasn’t, so you called out to him from the sidelines, where you stood behind the retractable barrier. Despite the fact that you lived so far away, you knew all of Joe’s teammates well. You had celebrated wins with them in person when you could and shared dinner with those who Joe was closest with. Whenever Joe FaceTimed you from the locker room before a game, he would hold his phone up so the rest of the guys could wave at your image on the screen while you wished them good luck. They all adored you, especially seeing how happy you made their quarterback.
However, that didn’t stop them from making cheeky comments about how whipped he was for you whenever they overheard your locker room conversations or caught him smiling at his phone. He couldn’t care less; he knew it was all in good fun, and he would never be ashamed of how happy his girl made him.
“Tee!” you called out, waving down the wide receiver.
“Hey!” he said automatically, before he realized who he was talking to. “What are you doing here? Joe didn’t say you were in town!” as he walked over, smiling broadly, clearly happy to see you.
“He doesn’t know,” you quickly explained. “Could you get him over here?”
“Aw, you’ve gotta do it yourself, come in, they won’t care.” Tee pulled up a section of the barrier, allowing you to duck beneath it.
“If I get hit in the head by a football, I’m blaming you!” you joked, before giving Tee a quick thanks and setting off across the field with the longest strides you could manage.
Once in earshot, you started calling out, “Joe! Joe!”
He immediately whipped his head around, recognizing your familiar voice but not comprehending why he was hearing it so clearly, momentarily questioning his sanity until his eyes fell on your familiar face, your radiant smile directed right at him. Your grin, already impossibly wide, somehow grew when you caught the first glimpse of his beautiful face in person.
“Baby,” he said, evidently shocked. He dropped the football from his hands, eyes wide, and quickly closed the distance between you with long strides. You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms snugly around his neck as he lifted your feet off the ground, his arms secure around your waist. He pressed his face into your neck, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo. It was always these intimate little details he missed the most.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in disbelief, voice muffled as he spoke against your neck, unwilling to untangle himself from you just yet.
“I missed you, and I thought it would be fun to surprise you.” Your voice threatened to break under the force of emotion rising in your chest. “God, I missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby, so much,” he murmured, his voice husky.
On the drive to the stadium, you had promised yourself you wouldn’t cry when you saw him again, but how could you stop your eyes from watering and eventually overflowing with the sheer and overwhelming joy of being back in your boy’s arms? You sniffled, and Joe pulled back just enough to see your face.
“Oh, sweet girl, don’t cry. Y’know I’ll start if you do,” he murmured, his large, warm hands coming to hold your face as he smiled softly at you. “You’re here now, I’m here, it’s all okay.”
You smiled, the crinkling at the corners of your eyes causing another tear to slide down your cheek. Before it could go far, Joe’s thumb gently swiped it away. He leaned down to press a kiss to the path the tear had just traced down your cheek, another to your forehead, the tip of your nose, before finally meeting your lips with his. His kiss was pure sweetness, tender and gentle and loving.
Your hands came to hold his face, one finger tracing down his jaw as you rested your foreheads together, going cross-eyed as you gazed at each other.
“Missed your beautiful face so much, baby. Swear you get prettier every time I see you.” Y
You smiled. “Could say the same for you, pretty boy.”
He flushed slightly. “Can’t believe you’re actually here,” he sighed, almost in relief, as if your presence lifted a weight from his shoulders - the weight of your absence. Right after, a quizzical look appeared on his brow. “What about your exams, though?”
“I lied when I said I had one every day - don’t have any today or tomorrow.”
“I should’ve known something was up when I couldn’t get in touch with you for so long today,” he chuckled.
Standing on tiptoe, you gave his lips another peck. “Guess you’ll just have to admit I outsmarted you, Burrow.”
“Just this once, sweetheart.”
Although you could’ve stood in the middle of that football field for another hour just holding him, absorbing the fact of his very existence, he had a game to prepare for. “I shouldn’t keep you too long, Joe-“
“Yes you should. You should always keep me,” he interjected.
“You know what I mean,” you laughed. “You’ve got a game to win.”
“Can’t lose when I know my girl’s watching! Think I need one more kiss for good luck.” You happily indulged his wishes.
“I’ll be waiting for you after the game, my love.”
“Can’t wait,” he replied, before his coach hollered, “Wrap it up, lover boy!”
“Two seconds!” he yelled back, pulling you back into his chest for one more moment before saying goodbye.
It was the easiest goodbye you’d exchanged in months, not shared through a screen or punctuated only by air kisses and waves. This goodbye wasn’t marred by the knowledge of the distance between you and the cold beds you were each sleeping in, alone. In hours, you would be reunited. You would be in the same building, asleep in the same bed, warming each other. And you would get to kiss his perfect face, not just in your dreams.
Whether this game was a win or a loss, you both knew tonight would be one of the happiest in a while.
could write a pt 2 to this if anyone was interested. let me know if that’s something you’d like and whether you’d like it to go in a fluffier or spicier direction … thanks for reading! <3
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dpr-stay · 8 months
Text
Cupid | LH44
Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, reader is a press officer, don't think gender is stated specifically, implied sexual content, second chance romance, she is not edited, zhou guanyu does not crash, and there are swears.
WC: ~7.7k (kill me now)
I literally hate this, im so sorry. I haven't edited it because it's late but I hope it's not bad. I'll edit it tomorrow. also how is it so longgg, it was supposed to be 5k at best. (why have i written two fics about exes having dinner?)
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Being Valtteri Bottas’ PR Agent was a wild ride. From being hired by him in his early days at Williams, to his successful years at Mercedes, and now at Alfa Romeo, you’d gotten to know the man through all stages of his career. You’d been there to field off questions about his declining performance at Mercedes and had been the first one to slam open the door and start yelling at him after the ‘cheated-on-his-wife’ rumours started floating around.
However, the paycheck was good and, when he wasn’t causing you to spend many nights in meetings about his public image, you didn’t mind the guy, happy to have to follow him around the world for most of the year.
The whole Formula One thing was also a bonus, you having been hooked on the sport after your Dad introduced it to you at an early age. You’d spent countless hours watching your dad watch the car’s speed by on his tv set, finally deciding to pay attention to the race after a few years. And boy, did you love it. 
You’d spent many an early birthday present forcing your parents to take you to the Grand Prix nearest to you, saving up for months to be able to afford the tickets and the travel. Something about the sport just intrigued pre-teen you, nothing to do with Michael Schumacher at all.
So, when the chance to be a F1 driver’s personal PR agent had landed on your advertisement agency’s desk, the place you had worked in the early days of your career, you had snatched it up quickly. The work started well before the start of the 2013 season, you having to meet the man himself and quickly getting adjusted to the many people you’d need to know to network for the guy. 
You’d also met Maldonado’s PR agent, one from the Williams team, who quickly brought up the ideas of doing interviews and press releases between the two drivers. You were swept into the world of the sport, beginning to get into the swing of things. 
Years passed, as did teammates, and Valtteri got signed to Mercedes alongside Lewis Hamilton. You didn’t know if your employment would carry over to Mercedes, but a team shirt and a letter letting you know about when Valtteri’s responsibilities started being mailed to your house confirmed it pretty quickly.
The atmosphere at Mercedes was more professional, though the team still treated each other as family. You’d often see engineers leaving together, going to go get drunk and celebrate Lewis’ common wins and Valtteri’s less common, but still happening, wins. 
You’d often spend hours at a time bargaining for spots for Valtteri in interviews and in PR related spots, and it worked. He was a well-known man, your job was practically done. The bosses were (finally) appeased, Valtteri was happy, and you could finally relax after years straight of stressing about social media and whatever the hell a vine was and if that was still relevant.
And then you’d gone and got yourself trapped in an elevator with Lewis Hamilton. 
Being a Mercedes employee, though only temporary, you’d met Lewis often during interviews and team meetings. However, you never really know a person until you spend five hours sitting opposite each other in a broken-down elevator, only being able to see each other by the light of your phone's flashlight, waiting for some sort of help as there was no signal.
Your conversation had started off hesitantly, you incredibly intimidated by the several-time world champion and him having a fleeting idea of who you were. The conversation had eventually fizzled out till the lift jolted, and a creaking sound echoed into the cavern of the contraption.
Your telling groan that you couldn’t hold back elicited a concerned “You alright?” from Lewis and then you eventually had to tell the professional F1 driver, who raced cars at over 200km/h every other weekend, about your fear of small spaces.
He hadn’t judged you for it, something which you thought was rather nice, and had even tried to adjust for you, moving to the very other side of the small box. Granted, your feet still touched, but you thought the sentiment was nice. 
He was more down to earth than you expected, you knew he wasn’t a prick but you weren’t expecting him to be… kind. Soon enough, after a few more questions about why you were afraid of small spaces and other questions, you both had spiraled into boundless conversation. 
You had talked about things you’d never talked about with someone, let alone a practical stranger, his soothing accent making it easier to open up to him. Things like the future and where it would take you, uncertainties about both your careers, even relationships, the type of conversations you only have trapped in a suspended metal box in the dark. 
Lewis was a fantastic person to talk to. He’d listen when he needed to and returned your conversation with equal energy, as though he actually wanted to be part of the conversation. For some reason he had decided to trust you and had talked freely to you, showing you a side that you doubted many people had seen.
Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t see your face or maybe you just gave off a trustworthy vibe. You didn’t know. All you knew was that, all of a sudden, you were one of Lewis Hamilton’s most trusted confidants. 
Even after someone had finally realised you were missing and exactly where you were, calling more firemen than necessary to bust open the lift though you supposed that’s what you were supposed to do when a ‘Sir’ was trapped in an elevator, Lewis had asked for your phone number and had continued to text you.
You’d met up a few times over the season, quickly becoming incredibly close friends who told each other everything. You’d had to deal with a few teases from Valtteri, who’d shut up when you reminded him who controlled the public’s opinion of him. 
During the off-season Lewis had invited you to come to his house for dinner. You’d went, it was lovely, and then you’d unknowingly experienced the moment of truth in your weird friendship/developing relationship. 
You’d been sitting at Lewis’s dinner table, eagerly chatting to the man about your family, leaning in closer and closer until the both of you were nearly leaning over the table. He’d cooked for you, an act you found incredibly sweet for the multi-millionaire who probably had ten private chefs on speed-dial, and you’d spent the evening wining and dining. 
You had both finished your main courses, talking about everything and anything when a loud bang had come from the upstairs of the man’s house. He glossed right over it, ignoring the loud sound. You had been about to comment on it but, at his nonchalance, you deigned not to. 
The conversation had continued, you both moving from his table to the couch he owned, which probably cost more than your salary earned you, when another loud sound, which sounded suspiciously like a bark, reverberated through his open-plan house. 
He sighed loudly at your questioning look, deciding that he couldn’t ignore it this time. He opened his mouth to speak but, before he could utter a syllable, the tapping of claws sounded against the stairs located, conveniently, in view of his living room. 
You looked up and there stood one of the largest Bulldogs you had ever seen. It was almost majestic, the way that he stood there on the steps, panting as though he’d just run a race. His brown coat was shining in the twilight glow, his muzzle a white colour in comparison to the rest of his body.
He took a few steps down the stairs, tripping on one before regaining his posture. You could only watch in wonder, mouth agape, as the beautiful beast padded down the steps and took a turn, approaching you head on.
The dog was a thing of beauty, his droopy face conveying no discernable emotion except from being tired. He slowly made his way to the couch, you doing nothing but watching as he trotted along the hardwood floors. You didn’t catch Lewis staring at you warily as you were only focused on the thing that younger you would’ve fought a clan of savage chipmunks in order to have.
The dog eventually made his way in front of you, plopping his behind down on the carpet and staring up at you questioningly. You didn’t know what emotion your face was conveying, you only knew it was very silent.
You cautiously reached a hand down to rub between his ears. After a second of your rubbing he made a gruff ‘woof’ sound and you couldn’t help it, an entranced whine releasing from your throat. Collapsing onto the floor beside the dog, you forgot about Lewis, focusing completely on the magnificent specimen of a dog. 
Roscoe, as you’d soon come to know via a fond Lewis, took to you as soon as you took to him. Within a minute the dog was letting you handle him as much as you’d like, rolling over on his back to let you get his stomach and vigorously licking your arm as you pet him. Praises spilled from your lips abound, making sure to let the bulldog know just how much of a good boy he was.
At a cough you turned from your spot on the floor to face Lewis, the radiant grin he had on his face making you feel as though you’d passed a test of sorts. Roscoe also turned to look at Lewis before turning back to you and huffing. 
He moved forward, stepping on your legs, trying to sit on you, before falling off the slope onto the carpet. You then picked him up and cuddled him, trying to keep eye-contact with Lewis as you did so. Lewis’ eyes had turned into half moons as he watched you love on his dog, his smile consuming his face.
“I’m glad he likes you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he didn’t.” He admitted, placing his drink on a wooden table that stood beside the couch. He then slowly slid from the couch onto the floor beside you, leaning his body down till he was face-to-face with Roscoe and gave the dog a kiss.
“He’s got good taste.” You commented and Lewis released a laugh, glancing up at you.
“Me or the dog?” He asked after a second and you paused, overdramatically placing a finger on your chin and tilting your head as though you were thinking. You then shrugged and he laughed again, you not missing the incredibly familiar twinkle in his eye as he looked at you.
After that, you’d found that Lewis was a lot more eager to meet at his house. Roscoe, accompanied by the sheepish man, was bowling you over nearly every time the door was opened to you. Lewis had also made the trip to your house, though you doubted he’d seen a house as small as yours within the last ten years. He seemed to like it though, settling in quickly and even staying there when you were at work. The off-season had continued like that, casually building your relationship between his training and your many meetings with Alfa Romeo, trying to settle the discussions about your contract after Valtteri’s move.
You’d finally gotten somewhere just before the season started after having to plead to not be replaced by an inside hire, Valtteri backing you up and stating he wouldn’t race without you. Alfa Romeo had accepted and then you finally had the contract you’d wanted. 
You’d left the meeting, Valtteri in tow, before turning around and hugging the man for having your back before you both said goodbye and made your way home and to the gym respectively.
The uber ride you’d hired was peaceful, the man staring straight ahead as you looked out the window, your small apartment building coming into your view. You smiled as you saw it, thinking of the Lewis you’d left in bed that morning, having to pull yourself out before him to go to your meeting. 
The climb up the steps (the elevator didn’t work which Lewis hadn’t complained about when you’d explained it in embarrassment) had seemed to take forever no matter how fast you climbed. When you’d finally made it to your floor, you had to practically drag yourself across the hallway to your door, unlocking it with force after the lock had gotten stuck.
Immediately you could tell something was off, the place seemed colder than that morning and it didn;t have to do with the fact the thermostat had broken a few months ago. All the lights were off and there was no noise coming from within, a telltale sign that Lewis was somewhere within whether he was listening to music or talking to someone. 
That was ok, though, he might’ve been at a meeting like the one you’d had, though you doubted there would be less than 7 zero’s on his contract. But that’s the difference between a big team and Alfa Romeo, you work with what you get.
You looked to the side table, placing your keys in the bowl, noticing the absence of Lewis’ keys. But that made sense if he was at a training session or a meeting, so you continued into the apartment, losing components of your outerwear as you went. 
You’d lost your scarf and blazer as you’d made your way to your bedroom, prepared to change from your business outfit into one of Lewis’ many shirts when you opened your closet. A quick rummage and you couldn’t find any. Weird.
You checked again before moving to another part of your closet and noting the lack of his hoodies or jumpers, which was even weirder as you’d stolen a few of them last week. You turned and moved to your dresser, an old antique wooden piece you’d picked up from an op-shop a few years ago after seeing it and falling in love.
You’d opened your drawer specifically for pajamas and found everything you’d acquired through your time of living independently but Lewis’ shirts. Moving to the many drawers Lewis used specifically when he’d stay over, a small inkling of panic settled in your stomach however you ignored it and opened the drawer.
Nothing. There was nothing left in the drawer. You quickly opened all his other drawers, almost pulling them out of the dresser with the force you were applying. All of them were empty. This caused the inkling to grow to an uneasy pool. Maybe he’d taken them to wash them at his place?
You stepped back from the dressers, incredibly confused and vehemently denying the growing panic in you. You walked, not ran, into your bathroom. The lonely toothbrush sitting on the counter sent a strange feeling, almost like adrenaline, rushing through you. Opening the cupboards under the counter you noted the loss of his extra face wipes and the moisturizers he insisted on using. 
You ran to your kitchen, not seeing anything off, before slamming into the back of the couch in your open plan apartment in your haste to get into the living room. The action caused pain to ring through your shins but you barely registered it, the missing cd’s that normally sat on the table your tv was balancing on that he had insisted were better than Spotify the only thing you were focused on. 
A quick look down the hallway to the door of your apartment only furthered your dread, noticing details you hadn’t seen before. The missing stack of shoes that he normally toed-off at the door and the missing extra wallet he left on the side table in case someone broke in almost confirmed your fears.
But what really set in the fact that he’d packed up and left was the missing leash that normally hung from a hook you’d installed specifically on the back of your front door. The inscribed ‘Roscoe’ on the hook seemed almost mocking from your place on the couch, but you couldn’t really acknowledge it, the tears filling your eyes blurring your vision.
You stood up from the couch and stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the open drawers shut, not hearing the splintering of the vintage wood. You picked up your phone from your bed that you’d tossed earlier in your haste to become relaxed, and opened your messages.
He hadn’t sent anything to you explaining his leaving and when you went to send a text (‘??? Where are you’) the message that you’d been blocked popped up at the bottom of the screen. You could only stare at the screen for a second, the implications of what he’d done sending emotional shockwaves through you. 
You barked out a sardonic laugh, your hand flopping from its position in front of you to be held uselessly at your side, your phone slipping from your grasp onto the floor. The world went still for a moment before you lifted a hand to cover your vision, the tears slipping from your eyes wetting your hand.
You sat alone on your bed that had, not even 24 hours ago, contained what you had thought was your future. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry at this point, the grief for something that was evidently never meant to be controlling your thoughts. A long deep sigh left you before it was interrupted by a sob. And then another sob.
You ended up falling asleep alone that night, still dressed in the smart pants and white shirt you’d worn to your meeting. Your only lullaby was your sobbing, not the sound of his gentle humming, something which you kept reminding yourself of. 
Valtteri had commented that you’d seemed sad the next time he’d seen you but neither of you had addressed it past that, him knowing when to keep his mouth shut. He especially knew to shut up after the intense glare you had fixed him. 
The season had started again and, while you were prepared for your duties as a PR agent, Valtteri’s full calendar being proof enough for that, you weren’t sure you were prepared to see Lewis again. Especially after the news that he was already seeing someone else had come out a week before the first race.
You’d returned Valtteri’s knowing glance with as much strength as you could muster and promptly ignored his further pitying look, choosing to feel sorry for yourself at home that night. You’d also ignored his attempts to try to get you to talk to Tiffany, you liked the woman but you didn’t think you should burden her with your ridiculous, because that’s what it was looking back, delusions that you could’ve been something more than just a summer fling to Lewis Hamilton.
You’d successfully managed to avoid Lewis the whole first couple of races, eventually beginning to see fleeting glances of him throughout the paddock. Seeing him for the first time with his partner had hurt but, looking at her, you couldn’t exactly blame him.
She was gorgeous and, after you’d done a bit of searching, was exactly his previous type. She was wealthy and had a respectable job, someone worthy of being with him. You’d made sure to avoid him after that.
You kept on at work though, determined to be the best goddamn PR Agent Alfa Romeo had ever seen. And you were succeeding. Valtteri was getting brand deals and after more positive press around him and his dedication to the sport regardless of his company, you were finally able to relax. 
And by relaxing, you meant getting wasted at a bar. In fairness, last time you’d relaxed you’d ended up more broken hearted than you’d ever been, so releasing some steam at a bar had seemed an appropriate route.
And it was, being able to drink away your sorrows and spill your guts out to a bartender in a small rundown pub in the middle of Canada was the perfect way to unwind. You hadn’t told the whole story of course, you resented the guy for what he did to you but you didn’t want to tarnish his reputation, but it was nice to tell it to some random person who probably didn’t even understand the way you were switching between Swedish, English, and Finnish. 
You’d woken up the next morning with a heavy weight off your shoulders and a nice Canadian man in your hotel bed, sending him off with a promise to call before promptly adding his phone number to your phone. Valtteri could tell something had changed when you’d walked into his driver’s room the next day, prepared to tell him about his schedule. You greeted his questioning look with a smirk and he shook his head, a disbelieving look on his face.
You’d found that you hadn’t thought about Lewis the whole day, when you’d settled into your hotel bed the night after the race. A warm feeling had spread through you at that, the knowledge that the man no longer consumed your thoughts making you feel good inside.
The next race weekend you were ready to go, the British GP making you pumped. You weren’t so pumped when Valtteri DNF’ed and were mentally preparing answers for the Finn as the race continued, briefing him on every response you could think of in relation to the gearbox issue. Zhou Guanyu did well in his race though, so the garage was quite excited for him, even though Valtteri hadn’t finished.
When the interviews had rolled around after all of the celebrations, you were following Valtteri on the walk to his first interview, eventually stopping to the side of him as a mic was held in front of him and the cameras had started rolling. 
Typical questions such as if he was happy for his teammate and if he was happy with the car were asked, some weirder questions such as if he thought the car’s not-working had to do with some obscure political issue before eventually the interview was wrapped up and the Finn moved on to his next interview, you following him.
You could see other drivers beginning to arrive in the area, being interviewed before you quickly looked away, not wanting to see if he was close. You’d managed to avoid him thus far today, how hard could a few more hours be?
You’d thought that before you heard the faint but tell-tale bark of Roscoe and you had to force yourself not to turn around and run to the dog. Lewis had mentioned bringing the dog to his home race at some point while you were together, so you weren’t exactly surprised at Roscoe’s presence. 
Valtteri’s interview was continuing in the background of your mind as you thought over the nights you’d spent cuddled with Roscoe and Lewis. Did you miss him or Lewis more? Did Lewis even miss you?
Valtteri nudged you in the side, his eyes wide and you snapped back to reality, staring at the interviewer.
“Pardon?” You asked, politely trying to make it seem as though you just hadn’t heard them and were paying attention.
“I just asked if Valtteri preferred Mercedes or Alfa Romeo.” The interviewer filled in and you turned to Valtteri, a questioning look on your face. Surely he could handle that question? He vehemently shook his head. Alrighty then.
You brought out both your hands in front of you, prepared to gesture out an answer for Valtteri to say. But before you could a large force had pounded into your back, knocking you to the floor and landing on top of you. The weight was heavy but it was warm and… was it licking you? “Roscoe! Oh my god, I am so sorry!” A voice came from behind you.
Oh no.
While you had been mentally preparing an answer for Valtteri, Lewis had been walking around the media area, Roscoe in tow on a leash. The dog had been restless ever since he’d entered the pen, Lewis echoing that sentiment as he saw a brief glimpse of you. He wanted nothing more than to run to you but he couldn’t with media responsibilities weighing him down.
Eventually the interviewer’s fill of Roscoe was full and he was able to do a little bit of wandering around the area. Lewis had handed the leash of the now-agitated Roscoe to Angela as he went to go answer some more questions, the press incredibly curious about the dynamics of the car.
Angela, bless her soul, had tried her best to wrangle the dog, but his continuous pulling and barking was beginning to annoy some of the media. Seeing this, Angela had decided to just let the dog pull her away, Roscoe almost dragging her as he went. 
He had pulled her almost completely across the room before he got too violent and managed to rip the leash from her hands, leaving Angela stumbling in the dust as he began to run. Lewis had watched this happen, and continued to watch in horror as Roscoe ran up behind you.
One gigantic leap and you were pushed to the floor, the big bulldog nuzzling into your neck. The world seemed to almost go quiet before Angela ran over, trying to grab the collar of the rabid dog, asking if you were ok.
Lewis had started to move over, dismissing the reporter who he was talking to as he made his way to his dog and his ex-lover. He saw you roll over on the floor, a small sad smile on your face as the dog began slobbering over you. A few more steps and he was in front of you, scolding Roscoe and apologising as he effortlessly grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled him back.
You tried not to look in his eyes, knowing all your effort of trying to get over him would be null if you saw his face. You ignored the hand he extended, instead smoothing down your clothes as you sat on the floor, only pulling yourself up when he awkwardly lowered his hand, framing it as if you just didn’t see.
He knew though, he’d developed the unfortunate skill of reading you.
You didn’t look at him as you assured him you were fine and that he should continue with his interviews, only sparing a glance at Angela who looked at you with a regretful hint in her eyes. You didn’t want to think about that more than you had to, waving them off to more interviews. 
You turned around before you could see Lewis leave, thankfully not seeing the longing he had displayed over his face as he turned away, back to his interviews. 
Would you have been able to hold it together if you’d seen the look he’d shot you? No. Were you when you watched it back after the weekend? Also no.
You turned back to Valtteri, cracking a quick joke, before he got back to his interviews. You spent the rest of that day picking gravel out of your palms, trying to forget about the whole interaction. You wouldn’t let this break your progress, the handsome Canadian man in your contacts getting a ring that night as you tried to distract yourself.
After a few days of you cursing Roscoe for trying to see you while also feeling as though you should arrange some sort of custody agreement so you could see the beautiful beast, a notification had popped up on your phone. It was a recommended tweet, a news article about how Lewis had apparently split from his “new fling”. 
That sent you spiraling, questioning why on earth the algorithm had thought to show you this and wondering what you’d done wrong in your past life in order for this to be what was happening to you.
You’d only become more confused a day later, when Angela had sent you an email, saying that Lewis would like to meet up and apologise because of the media backlash. The thing was you’d seen no media backlash, people just finding the dog's enthusiasm funny. 
If there was any sort of trouble, you’d have seen it, it was your job after all, so you were left sitting on your couch, pondering what was the point of the meeting she was trying to set up.
You’d aired the email for a few days, wondering what you should do. You wanted to say yes, to talk to Lewis again and ask him what had happened, but you didn’t want to get hurt again. And you knew you’d be hurt when you saw him doing perfectly fine without you.
The fact that Angela was waiting for you to respond didn’t cross your mind till you received a text from an unknown number, politely asking you to respond. The older woman had waited till she knew you’d read the text, about five minutes, before sending a more desperate text. That had your eyebrows raising unwillingly, confused about why she had sent three “please”’s in one paragraph.
Regardless you fell victim to knowing how hard it was to try and manage a driver's personal and professional commitments and said yes. Only because you felt bad for Angela was what you kept telling yourself.
Eventually the day had come and you were dreading it, lying on your couch until the last second possible. The thought of canceling had popped through your head multiple times but it was too late now. The only way you could back out is if an emergency happened or you died on the way to the private restaurant Angela had insisted on booking, saying that even though the meeting was supposed to be platonic, it shouldn’t be aired to the public.
A deep sigh left you as you pulled yourself up and walked to your bedroom, dressing yourself in business clothes. You wanted to put effort in, but knowing that you’d definitely be embarrassed if you showed up glammed out and he showed up in a shirt and jeans, you decided against it. It was a business dinner anyway, simply to smooth over a wrong that had been committed against you. 
But it wasn’t a wrong, it was Roscoe pushing you over, which could hardly be considered a wrong and was more the dog testing the things he could get away with.
The real wrong was what Lewis had done to you. You hoped that you could get through the ordeal without talking about it, showing up and then posting a picture to Lewis’s instagram or something about how it was all good to appease the critics.
Except there were no critics, it was just Lewis wanting to have dinner with you. Or maybe it was just Angela trying to meddle. Maybe he was going to try to apologise for him ghosting you? You didn’t know if you would accept it.
You might’ve been able to accept it if he’d been honest from the start, telling you that he wouldn’t want you past the end of the break so you could quickly shut down the relationship before it started and move on with your life.
A thought that’d you always try to flush from your mind sprung to the front of it as you wondered. Maybe you were being too harsh. You’d never explicitly expressed what you were, maybe you had just been overthinking it the whole time you were together. Or rather, not together. 
But that would’ve been unfair to you anyways, you reassured yourself. Him letting you get a taste of his future before exempting you from it was a cruel thing to do to anyone.
A ring from your phone let you know that you should’ve been out the door at this point. You quickly cursed before grabbing your essentials and running to your entryway, pulling your shoes on, before grabbing your keys from the side table. 
After locking your door, you ran down the stairs to your apartment building and hailed a taxi. Luckily traffic wasn’t too bad, so you were able to arrive at the restaurant on time, quickly hurrying inside and getting led to your table.
You never had to worry about being late though, as Lewis wasn’t there when you got to the private booth. It was fine, he came from the other side of town so he’d probably only be a few minutes late.
It was about twenty minutes later you’d sighed and decided to ring Angela. Ironically, she didn’t pick up. You couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that left your throat, shaking your head at the sad reality of your situation.
Ghosted by two members of Mercedes. Maybe it was a good idea for Valtteri to move when he had, otherwise they may have just stopped picking up the phone. You gave him ten more minutes before trying Angela again. The same response. 
At this point you were sick of being made the fool of. Perhaps it was your fault for believing your dispute could be resolved, your fault for believing you were worth showing up for. You stood up with a pressure at the back of your eyes and began the walk from the private booth all the way at the back of the swanky restaurant to the exit.
Before you got even five meters from your table, the door to the restaurant slammed open. Everyone turned to stare at the heavily breathing world champion as he took a second to recoup himself. He didn’t let himself look at anyone in the restaurant as he straightened his suit and turned to the host, who looked a little shell shocked. A quick exchange later and the host stepped back from the little podium he was stood behind. 
You quickly scampered back to your seat, making it just in time and plastering an unimpressed look over your face. Looking back up, you could see Lewis scanning all the patrons of the premises before his eyes paused and locked onto you. 
The simple action of making eye-contact, a luxury which you had refused yourself during your bump with Roscoe, sent a lick of emotion down your spine. You couldn’t exactly read his face, you didn’t know what he was choosing to display or doing unwittingly after being played by him for months, but you believed he was relieved. 
When he arrived at the table he waved off the host with a small ‘thanks’ before sitting down in the seat opposite to you. It was silent for a few seconds, you both continuing eye contact. You were trying to find anything you could recognise in his eyes while he was just looking at you, at your face. 
“I’m sorry for being so late.” He spoke finally, a slight tilt growing at the corners of his lips. You didn’t respond and the awkwardness won him over after a few more seconds, something that was quite uncharacteristic of him. He coughed.
“The lift wouldn’t work, I’d left my keys, then no one would pull over. I tried to call you but my phone died, so I just ran trying to get here.” He said and averted his eyes, a mannerism you’d recognised as a nervous tick the couple of times you’d seen it. You didn’t know how to reply so you let your emotions take hold.
“Your call wouldn’t have gone through.” You said blankly and he looked back to you, before chuckling awkwardly. You didn’t find it funny.
“You would’ve had to unblock me first.” You needlessly elaborated, getting some sadistic enjoyment out of the way the man squirmed. He continued his awkward laughing, you joining in to laugh sardonically.
You didn’t know where this feeling, of needing him to a sliver of the uncomfortableness he’d caused you, had come from. The feeling you got from his discomfort wasn’t pleasure though, it felt empty as though it was pointless in the long run. You supposed it was, he wouldn’t remember you in a few years and your small petty actions wouldn’t even matter when he married the princess of some country. 
He cleared his throat, drawing your attention from your musings to his face.
“I wanted to apologise.” He stated bluntly and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no shit. He caught your expression and winced. 
“I should’ve had Roscoe on a tighter leash and not have given him to Angela. It was my fault-” You tuned him out as he continued, shaking your head in disbelief. Yeah sure, it was why the meeting had been arranged, but you’d genuinely thought he might’ve talked about the elephant in the room at some point. Maybe you were judging harshly though. Maybe after a few minutes he’d start talking about the model he’d piped the other day or the Albanian billionaire who wanted to be his sugar mommy.
You’d forgotten that he could read you like a book and had stopped when he realised you were no longer paying attention. He reached over the table to wave a hand in front of your eyes, an action that was very rude, and you reacted accordingly. You turned to face him, affronted, and he smiled at your expression before his face turned serious and he breathed a deep breath.
“I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about what had happened.” He said finally, staring down at the table, and you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your buttons. You started to talk, the words leaving your mouth before you could properly think about them, hurt blurring your thoughts.
“Of course I would love to recount the time I came home and I found my place ransacked.” You said, the fakeness of your enthusiasm leaking into your words causing him to flinch.
“I’d love to talk about the messages I sent you before I realised I’d been blocked. Sure, let’s talk about how, not even two weeks after telling me you thought we’d have a future together, you’d completely left me, without a word of discussion.” You finally let out, almost strangling your throat closed so as to not let more of the hurt out. This was a work-related dinner after all and you didn’t want to draw more attention than Lewis already had.
His face had fallen, an incredibly unfamiliar look coating his face and you tried to stop yourself before you spoke, trying to tame the biting uncertainties in your head.
“Was it because I’d moved companies?” You questioned and he looked up. “Should I not have followed Valtteri?” Your question floated in the air and he shook his head, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.
“Then why?” You asked after a second and he paused, not responding. You, tired of his silence, thought about all the reasons you’d gone over in your head, and settled on the one that made the most sense to you. Looking back, it was probably the most unrealistic, but it made sense to the angry and sad mindset you had.
“Was it because I couldn’t afford everything?” His head snapped up, shock colouring his features. “I could’ve moved to a new apartment if it bothered you, having to stay over at my place. I knew you didn’t do a lot of things that break because I couldn’t pay, but you could’ve told me if you wanted to. I do have a savings account I could’ve dipped into.” You said quietly, looking down at the table, all the fight having been sapped from your body. 
You were tired. You didn’t know what the time difference was between you and Canada, but you were sure that you could set an alarm and wake up to spill your guts to the stranger, it was better than telling anyone you knew. 
Lewis called your name but you didn’t look up from the table, hoping to not see any form of confirmation in his eyes. He reached a hand over the table, this time to not be rude but to lift your chin up and look in your eyes. He contemplated for a second before speaking softly.
“I thought it was what you wanted.” He said and you reared back, completely shocked before he continued.
“You kept going to meetings with Alfa Romeo and I thought it was your subtle way of telling me to fuck off. You know, that you had more important things to worry about than a driver from your old company. We’d never talked about what we were and I just thought…” He paused for a second here, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at the wall before looking back into your eyes.
“I thought I could bite the bullet, leave before you could tell me to go. And it worked in the end, you’ve been doing exceptionally well. I haven’t seen a bad story about Valtteri in months.” He said and withdrew his hand as he leaned back against the chair behind him.  You processed his words for a moment before he cleared his throat, drawing you back to look at him.
“I would never, by the way.” He disclosed quietly and you tilted your head. He continued. “I don’t mind if you have the money or not, for that break your apartment was the best place for me.” 
The use of the present tense threw you off for a second, leaving you to rearrange yourself in your seat and clear your throat as you thought of a response. You couldn’t, opening your mouth but no words coming out. He’d stunned you into silence. You finally found your voice after steeling yourself for a second. “W-what about umm… what was her name?” You asked, a stutter permeating your words. He just sighed, letting his head fall slack to stare at the table. 
“It was a mistake.” He said quietly, and guilt for the poor girl rushed through you. “I thought that after I’d let you go I should at least try to find something as a replacement.” He looked up at you.
“I couldn’t though, no one could match to you. But I couldn’t leave her without a reason.” 
He leaned further back in his seat, his voice terse as he spoke. “She gave me plenty of reason after I caught her in bed with her ex.” You winced at the tone of his voice and gave him a second to collect his thoughts. Even if he was trying to break it off, it’s never a good feeling to be cheated on. 
You spoke up after a second, trying to clear the silence between you and deciding he should know about your fling after you’d ended if this dinner was going to way you thought it was.
“I met a man in Canada.” You said hesitantly and you saw his shoulders drop.
“Oh.” He said quietly, before shaking himself out as if he was a cat and plastering a smile on his face. Lewis made eye-contact and asked you a question.
“What’s his name?” Fake-enthusiasm permeated his question, as though he was trying to hide his disappointment. 
You didn’t want to address that, though you knew you had to. Could you take him back? You didn’t know for sure if he would leave you again, which scared you. The whole idea of taking him back scared you, though the thought of more time with him that wasn’t spent trying to avoid looking his way made you hopeful. You tried not to feel that way, knowing that you shouldn’t base your happiness on the man.
But he had apologised and explained his reasoning. As much as you wanted to curse him out for not talking with you, it did make sense. Feelings of inadequacy were present in every person, no matter how remarkable they were.
Look at you, already being hypocritical over your own words. You’d said you didn’t know if you’d take him back, but now you were already planning it. Was that pathetic? You didn’t like to think it was, but maybe you were wrong, ignoring your dignity in favour of the man.
God, if only the world was more simple and less complicated. If only you hadn’t gotten locked in an elevator, if only Roscoe hadn’t been as adorable as he was, if only you’d said no to this dinner. If only you’d just talked about your feelings from the start instead, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
Too late now though, you supposed, snapping back to the present and leveling eye-contact with Lewis. You contemplated your words, knowing they’d probably either be the start or the end of your time with him.
“I don’t remember.” You said finally, staring at Lewis’ face as a smile that he tried to contain spread over it.
“You don’t remember his name?” He asked, almost trying to confirm his words and you shook your head. He couldn’t control his smile, trying to mask it behind a cough. You only started to grin in response, looking into his eyes as they slowly turned back into half-moons.
A cleared-throat startled you both out of your bubble and you turned to the waiter, who looked as if he had just watched a soap opera play out in front of him. He awkwardly held out menus to the both of you and you quickly accepted them, apologising for making him stand awkwardly for so long.
When he’d left you both had looked at each other and exchanged smiles. The dinner had continued and it was as lovely as Lewis himself. That is to say, very lovely. 
After paying and making the walk to Lewis’ house, you both stumbled into Lewis’ abode, not able to keep your hands off of each other. However a large obstacle had stopped you from taking it further, namely the heavy weight of the british bulldog that decided to settle himself on top of you the second you’d walked through the door.
You could barely hear Lewis’s laughter over the sound of Roscoe licking the side of your face, you muffling your own laughter into the carpet. 
When you’d next seen Valtteri, he’d only taken one glance at your neck before shooting you a smirk, the knowing glance he had on his face making you roll your eyes as you pushed him to his interviews.
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i got stuck halfway through but i just wanted it overrrr. Hopefully it's not too bad, let me know in the comments.
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ahgasegotarmy116 · 2 months
Text
He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Four
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Summary: You paths cross again in an unexpected way and you're not sure what to make of it all. Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook Word Count: 1.5K~ Warnings: Implied yändere and mentions of signs of trauma because of it. (nothing too extreme) a/n: I wanted to put out another chapter but felt like it ended at a good point so I stopped it a bit short but the next chapter should be a bit longer to make up for it. Thanks for all the love and support on this story so far 🥰
"I'll be there in a second" I yell towards the front door, grabbing my purse so I can give the delivery guy a tip. Ruffling through it I look through all of the possible pockets in it to try and find the cash I had set aside for times like this but I can't for the life of me find it. 
"Perfect" I mutter to myself and roll my eyes, accepting defeat and walking over to open the door. "Hey Ian I'm so sorry I forgot to grab some cash I-" I start to ramble off before the person who I thought would be our regular delivery boy turns around. "You're not Ian" I say with a smile when I see who has happened to show up on my doorstep. 
"No I'm not, but you can call me that if you'd like" Jungkook says with a warm smile. "Hello Jungkook" I say, crossing my arms and leaning up against the door frame.
"What are you doing here?" I ask eyeing him head to toe for a second before looking back up at him. "Um, delivering groceries?" he chuckles holding up the bags with a crooked smile. "Where's Ian?" I laugh, all my worries from today suddenly fading into the background. "Sick, I picked up his shift" he explains and I nod my head in acknowledgement.
"So should I leave these out here or?" he asks trialing off and looking past me into my apartment. "He's not here if that's what you're wondering" I say, widening the door and stepping aside so he can get a full view of the place. 
"So can I come in? You know, so I can carry your groceries into the kitchen for you" he says, holding up the bags again. I stick my head out into the hallway, checking both sides of it and take a glance at the parking lot behind him before even bothering to say something. 
"Y/n" he says and I stand up straight again, my posture gone a bit stiff from the suggestion. "If it makes you feel uncomfortable I ca-" "No! No, um, it's fine you can come in" I say before stepping back and letting him through. 
"This is a really nice place you have here" he compliments, standing and waiting for me to lead the way. "Yeah, I like to keep things more on the simple side" I say in reference to the neutral color story I have going on in the living room. "It makes things a bit less distracting while I'm writing" I explain while he follows behind me. 
"Understandable" he responds, nodding as he walks into the kitchen. I stand there and stop for a second, starting to rethink my decision of letting him inside. "Y/n?" Jungkook says knocking me out of my train of thought. "Yes?" I answer, blinking a few times to bring myself back. 
"You're breathing really fast, are you okay?" he questions, putting the groceries down on the counter behind him. "No, yeah I'm fine" I say clearing my throat and turning around to grab a few glasses out of the cabinet. "Water?" I question and he nods his head wordlessly, leaning up against said counter while he studies me. 
"What?" I asked with an amused smile, trying to cover up the weirdness I had caused moments ago. "No, it's nothing" he says while I walk over and hand him the glass. "I may not know you that well but I do know when people are lying to me" I say, raising an eyebrow at him before taking a sip of my water. 
"I'm just trying to figure you out" he explains. "Care to elaborate?" I say and lean up against the counter opposite of him. "It's just that the way you've been reacting to me being here has gone from surprised, to pleased, to scared, to nervous, to downright terrified, and now you're clearly trying to mask all of that from me" he lists off. 
"That is," I pause, clearing my throat, "That is quite an elaboration". "I'm right though aren't I?" he says, taking a sip of his. "In a few words yes, I guess you're right" I admit, deciding to be truthful since deep down I know he's someone I can trust. "Is that because of him?" he says, nodding towards a picture frame of tae and I from a couple of summers ago; when things were still good between us. 
"Yes" I admit, "You know you don't have to be right? You shouldn't have to be with someone you're scared of" he says, clearly wanting to help me. "He's my husband Jungkook" I say, hoping he'll leave it alone. "Do you know how sad you look when you say that?" he questions, calling me out. "Why do you care so much? I mean I'm just a girl you met in a bar, why have you taken such an interest in me?" I question, crossing my arms over my chest. 
"I told you. I'm in the market for a new best friend" he says giving me a sad smile and pushes himself off the counter. "You're leaving?" I question, following him as he walks out of the kitchen. "Well yeah, I'm on the clock" he says while fixing the vest and hat he's wearing with the grocery store's name on it. 
"One more thing. You know you're a woman right? Not a girl" he says, making me tilt my head in confusion. "Meaning?" I question. "You said you were just some girl I met in a bar. You're a woman y/n. One that's more than capable of making her own decisions" he says walking towards the door.  
"T-tell Ian I hope he gets well soon" I stammer, caught off guard by his statement. "And I'm sorry I didn't have the money to tip you. Seems like I-" "Forgot to grab some cash" he says, finishing my sentence for me. "Yeah" I say, happy to know he had been paying attention from the start. "I'll let him know" he says while opening the front door while I follow behind him. 
"You know how you could make it up to me though?" he says with a lilt in his voice. "And what might that be?" I question, leaning up against the door frame just as I had done before. "Well you could start by answering my emails" he says, nodding towards my laptop on the desk behind me. 
"I'm sorry I-" "Apology accepted" he answers, cutting me off before I can even try to come up with an excuse. "Whats your email address?" I ask, making sure I'll know exactly what I'm looking for. "I'm sure you'll find me" he finishes, sending me a wink before turning to leave. 
I watch him as he goes, not even bothering to look back as he makes his way down the steps at the end of the hallway or even when he gets in his car. 
"Who's the handsome gentleman love?" Mrs. Mitchell says, making me jump. "He's um, he's a friend" I say, watching him drive out of the parking lot before turning my focus to her. "Looks like he might want to be a bit more than friends though" she says, fully admitting to watching our exchange.
"You don't think I would-" "No I don't love, don't worry. Even if you did I wouldn't blame you." she says looking down and grabbing one of my hands that I didn't even realize had been shaking and holding it in both of her hands. 
"I've never said anything to you because I was hoping that you would come to the conclusion sooner or later but you really should start thinking about yourself and your wellbeing instead of the loyalty you feel you must hold up when it comes to Taehyung. No one should have to live like this" she finishes and places a hand on my shoulder before heading back into her apartment, leaving me out in the hallway with my thoughts. 
I stand there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before finally heading back inside and closing the door behind me.
Sitting down at my desk I open my laptop and pull up my email account and start scrolling until I find one email address that stands out. 
jkjkjk.97  with a subject line titled "Best friend application"  "How charming" I mutter to myself before clicking on it. 
Dear y/n,
I'm not even sure if you'll ever get a chance to read this but I hope you got home safe. 
I enjoyed talking to you and I hope that maybe we could do it again sometime? As just friends you know, I feel like both of us are in need of a good friend. I know I am.
Anyways, I hope I'll hear back from you soon but if not then I hope you take good care of yourself and know that I'll always be rooting for you. 
From your (best?) friend,
Jungkook
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chaifootsteps · 4 months
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Hey I saw someone on Twitter saying you’re transphobic because it said in your Twitter bio “IDW Arcee is still a guy” even though the character is canonically trans. What’s your take on that? I’m not attacking you or anything I just genuinely want to know the context of all that.
Oh boy. Strap yourselves in kids; time for Chai's villain origin story.
So basically, IDW Arcee made his debut under the pen of Simon Furman, the dude who created Arcee in the first place. Simon Furman has a small massive chip on his shoulder over the notion of girl robots, but we're going to be talking in mostly Watsonian terms for now. IDW Arcee as he comes on the scene in Spotlight Arcee is the victim of a nonconsensual forced sex reassignment, we see right off the bat that this destroyed his life.
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He's wracked with trauma and dysphoria over this, on a do-or-die quest to take out the mad scientist who did it (he succeeds and tortures said scientist for seven years straight), and is implied to suffer chronic pain.
This got a lot of criticism, but Simon Furman insisted it wasn't meant to be transphobic, just the opposite. When someone pointed out that this was a story about how traumatic it was to be assigned a gender you didn't feel was the one you should have, Furman agreed with this take.
Eventually Furman was shooed out and John Barber was brought in as writer, and nobody seemed to know how to deal with Arcee's backstory. So they just kind of...didn't. They wrote around it for eight whole years, never really acknowledging it, but frequently alluding to how traumatized he was from it. The only person to ever roll up their sleeves and tackle it head on was Mairghread Scott, the only person IMO to ever do justice to IDW Arcee.
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By the way, this panel made me weep. This issue also includes a fleeting, but notable moment where someone refers to Arcee with they/them pronouns, and at the time, I was extremely excited for this.
Shortly after this however, the comic came to an end and John Barber decided -- in the very last issue -- to bring in an expert. And by this, I mean he found some trans lady on Twitter and let her write Arcee. The last issue has Arcee concluding that the whole sex change was consensual and the violent murder spree was the result of, I quote, "bad meds."
Yeah, basically Arcee killed all those people because the Spiro was a little off.
I got into a lot of internet fights with people over this back in the day, criticizing it for being worse than what we started with, but also frequently pointing out that it wasn't Twitter lady's fault, as she wasn't the editor-in-chief at IDW and that there's a very good reason professional writers aren't supposed to do this sort of thing. In return, I got accused of hating trans women and still get some real ugly things in the inbox about it to this day. It was the first taste, bitter as wormwood, of what I as a trans man could expect from my own community.
Regardless of all that, Arcee is probably the most important fictional character to ever enter my life. He helped me realize I was trans, got me through some dark days, got me through heartbreak and top surgery. He saved my life a few times, and every so often he continues to. I owe so much to him.
If writing a very gentle fix-it fic where Arcee has a long talk with Anode (one of the trans lesbian bots from the vastly superior sister series James Roberts wrote) makes me a transphobe in these peoples' eyes, so be it. I don't care what they think. They never reached out to baby trans Chai and held his hand and kept him breathing.
Arcee did.
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enbyenvy666 · 2 months
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personal pornstar Part 1/?
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Being a hero can be overwhelming at times. Stressful and demanding, rarely having a break long enough to practise some self care. All to help and benefit our community. So why not get something back from the community? Hire your companion today! --------
Falling on hard times led you to signing up to become a 'companion' for Pro Heroes, hoping to make a quick buck, but instead you became the 3rd part of a famous hero couple who show you love in ways you never expected.
established!kiribaku x masc!reader eventual smut (will be a cismale version and a transmale version) word count - 1.7k
CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ themes, eating food, swearing, sex work? except there isn't any sex yet, reader is broke, reader is implied to have piercings, google translate french, no beta (if i've missed anything please let me know)
You had seen the adverts. A website in which Pro Heroes can order ‘companions’ to help them de-stress. You weren’t a pro, no, quite the opposite actually. The ads were definitely targeted, you were seeing them because you were broke and in need of some cash in order to live. There were nights where you really considered joining while eating from a cup of ramen noodles as your third meal that day, for the fourth day in a row.
But when you did peruse the website out of curiosity, it didn’t specify what the companions would be hired for. It didn’t say it was sexual, but it didn’t deny it either. It seemed almost like a sugar baby/sugar parent type situation, where you would be financially compensated for ‘favours’. Some heroes were well off financially which was very appealing, but there were also some lesser known heroes who could be into some really freaky shit with not a lot of compensation for it.
After getting your electricity bill, you bit the bullet and signed up. You had to sign an NDA when creating your account, which you felt was a little over the top but your empty bank account was enough motivation to continue. Uploading a couple of more recent pictures, including a couple spicier ones from times you were really feeling yourself, and writing a small bio trying to hype yourself up, you eagerly waited for some kind of response. But eventually you forgot about it, focusing on your minimum wage job instead.
Until you checked your phone during your lunch break and found that you had received a message from ‘Rouge_ Émeute’. While the message contained simple instructions, it was written nicely with ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s sprinkled throughout. They wanted to meet you at a private restaurant, a restaurant you recognised to be a safe haven for Heroes to dine at without flashing cameras in their faces.
It was also an expensive restaurant, which made you feel giddy about one of the more popular heroes wanting to meet you. Putting on your best button up and slacks, you were nervous when you arrived at the restaurant. You were told to tell the hostess you were here for ‘R and D’, which you felt silly saying until the hostess gave you a bright smile, gesturing for you to follow as she weaved through the restaurant.
You passed so many famous faces as you almost had to jog to catch up with the hostess. You saw Fat Gum, Uwabami, Selkie. You’re pretty sure you even saw Red Riot and Dynamight! Wait… why is the hostess leading you straight to their table?
Hold on a second…
Oh shit.
The hostess happily gestured to the booth seat, across from the two heroes, placing a couple menus down on the table before quickly walking away. You couldn’t believe it. The number two hero and his husband, hired you, to be their companion for the evening. Red Riot had a bright grin on his face, showing off his famous pointy teeth, while Dynamight sat beside him with a scowl, arms crossed over his chest.
It was strange seeing them out of their hero costumes, Riot in a button down and maroon blazer, complementing his red hair which wasn’t spiked up in its usual style, but instead softly falling down his shoulders. Dynamight was wearing a white polo, short sleeves showing off his bulging biceps muscles, which you could see ripple with any minor movement. You scooted across the seat as you sat down, both sets of their red eyes watching you. Like an ant under a magnifying glass, you felt like you were about to burst into flames at any moment. Riot finally spoke, breaking the tension. “Punk_boi right?”
Ah yes, your username for the website. You had completely forgotten to tell them your real name, or at least whichever one of the pair you were corresponding with.
“It’s (y/n),” you responded meekly, trying to force a smile that made you look comfortable, but missing the mark.
“(y/n)… it suits you,” Riot smiled sweetly, placing his elbow on the table to rest his chin in his palm. You felt your cheeks grow warm, averting your gaze down to your lap where your fingers fiddled nervously under the table. You whispered out an appreciated thanks, shoulders tense. Dynamight kept his hard gaze on you, ruby eyes flicking over your nervous form, sitting shyly across from him. Noticing his staring, you took a deep breath, gaining the courage to talk.
“I’m so sorry, I guess I’m a little star struck, I didn’t think the number 2 hero would be interested in me,” you admitted with a nervous chuckle. Dynamight finally uncrossed his arms from his chest, instead digging his elbows into the table as he leaned closer to you.
“Yeah well, I am.” His regular volume just seemed to be slightly louder, causing a couple of glances from other tables. “What are you in this for?”
His question caught you off guard. You had heard that he was abrasive and straightforward but he still surprised you.
“I’m uh… pretty broke right now,” you admitted, eyes darting across the heroes’ faces to gauge any type of reaction, and when you didn’t see one, you decided to use this as an opportunity to turn up the charm.
“And because I want to thank the heroes that keep me safe,” you added in a sultry tone, reaching across the table to squeeze Dynamight’s hand. It was a lie though, you lived in an area with very limited patrols so there was more crime, but at least the rent was cheap because of it.
“There’s no need to thank us,” Riot said, laying his hand over yours, his large palm and fingers quickly engulfing your hand and almost covering Dynamight’s as well. You felt your blood run cold for a moment, before your face grew warm. You had assumed that you were hired just for Dynamight, maybe for some kind of cuckoldry thing but now it dawned on you. They both wanted you. “Please, order anything you like.”
The menu was the perfect barrier to cover your face as your situation started to dawn on you. Both of these men were nearly double your size, especially Red Riot, who was a mountain of a man. You weren’t sure if you could… take them both at once, let alone just Riot. Deciding to just get a pasta dish, you fiddled with your collar as you tried to steel your nerves. With your fingers threaded together, you placed them on the table to hopefully avoid anymore fidgeting to betray your calm facade.
“This is my first time doing this,” you admitted, feeling a slight weight lift from your shoulders. Dynamight’s lips turned upwards into a smirk as he huffed a short laugh.
“We could tell,” he teased. Riot chuckled as well, covering your hand with his again, his fingers soothingly stroking your wrist, fingertips just sneaking under your sleeve. Feeling the warmth in your face spread down your neck, you sheepishly turned your attention to your lap again.
“Don’t worry, it’s our first time too,” he assured.
“Wouldn’t you want someone with more experience?”
“Nah,” the blonde reached over, forefinger hooking under your chin with his thumb holding it in place as he tilted your head upward, forcing you to look at him. “We liked you too much.”
Thank god you didn’t have some kind of fire or heat quirk because you could’ve melted at that moment. Throughout the dinner, the two heroes would give you teasing touches and flirty comments, and as much as you wanted to reciprocate, they made you too flustered. By the time dinner had ended and they led you outside, the butterflies in your stomach feeling more and more like anxiety. You were about to have sex with not one stranger, but two, who were both Pro Heroes as well!
The cold night air cooled your hot face, but Dynamight’s hand on your lower back made the temperature of your cheeks a fierce competition. Riot stood in front of you to protect you from the cold breeze while requesting your phone. Hesitant, you gave him the device, watching him type away before handing it back to you.
He had created two new contacts, ‘Eijiro Kirishima’ and ‘Katsuki Bakugo’, and put them both in a group chat. Kirishima leaned down to your ear, feeling his lips brush against the metal jewellery that pierced the cartilage as he whispered, “Text us when you get home safe.”
Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to respond, brain short-circuiting when the scent of his fancy cologne filled your nostrils. Bakugo reached into his pocket, moving in closer to your other side, lips brushing against your other ear as he handed you something discreetly. “For the cab.”
Glancing down at your palm you saw a hundred dollar bill. Gawking at it, your eyes practically bulged out of your skull. “I-I-I thought-“
The two men chuckled, Bakugo sounding a little more raspy. His hand rubbed up and down your back, pressing his surprisingly soft lips to your cheek in a kiss that almost made your knees buckle.
“Not yet, sweetheart, but maybe if you’d like to see us again,” Kirishima whispered before kissing your other cheek, turning away to flag down a taxi. As soon as one pulled up, the red head opened the door for you, and Bakugo’s hand never leaving your back until you climbed into the yellow car. With quick goodbyes, you watched them walk away hand in hand.
The cab ride was short, leaving you with plenty of change which you felt guilty for keeping. Once you got inside your apartment, your anxiety washed away and was replaced with exhaustion. The rollercoaster of emotions from dinner, and from work early that day left you extremely drained. Stripping from your clothes and crawling into bed, you remembered to text the two heroes you were home safe just before drifting off. --------
A/N - ahhhhhh first time posting! please let me know if there's any mistakes or ways i can improve! likes and reposts appreciated <3
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diejager · 2 months
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Meeting in the same line of work as an operator. But the ‘reader’ in this scenario isn’t ‘small’. Being only just a couple inches shorter then Simon, and built quite large on the ‘bulk’ side. Spoopy Operator Girlfriend that can pick you up who doesn’t like that..? Boyfriend operator who’s used to interacting with women who prefer the feminine dainty life, now they gotta deal with reader being almost the complete opposite of what he’s used too!
(plus side of having operator girlfriend, no need to worry about being gentle, especially when their covered in scars like Simon)
Guess they can count their calories together as they get ready to work out…how many calories do you think Simon eats daily…?
I know shit about calories and being/feeling tall, but I can sure can try and live my dream in this >:]
Unusual Size Cw: fluff, implied smut, hookups, Ghost being confused, tell me if I missed any.
Ghost always thought himself as the provider in a relationship, the person who cared and protected —the shield. He always thought he preferred pretty and dainty women, like those he dated in the past or the rare and occasional hookups he brought to a motel room from the bar. They were good fucks, pretty things mewling and moaning beneath him, their pleasures spurred on by his broad stature and mask, but none were permanent, always a staple of his lonely nights. Ghost - Simon - knew who he was and what he liked —or so he fucking thought. 
You came crashing through everything he thought of himself, a straight man into small and fragile women with painted nails and rouge lips. You were unlike anything he’d every seen, bulky and tall, limbs sculpted from hardened marble and mind made of rough wires. You rivaled him in size and broadness, taller than Gaz, broader than Soap and gruffer than Price. You were a carbon copy of him in your whole attire and equipment, decked in black and blues, lifting more than anyone he’d seen and broke through men like they were made of glass, shattering them in the same velocity of a bowling ball towards pins. 
And when you shrugged off your mask, he was sure that he knew at least one thing about himself, that he was a straight and confused man, bordering on bisexual with how strongly he reacted to you appearing as a male with your deeper voice and gruffness. You were practically a man.
You didn’t need protection, you didn’t need to be provided for or to be cared for. You were as independent and strong as he was, someone he could equally depend on for help and comfort, to reach for someone he knew could take him as a whole: all his fear, all his scars, all his trauma and all his regrets. Simon knew you can take all of him, following him through thick and thin to pull him back from the depths of his mind, scattering his nightmares and bringing him into your strong arms. 
Everything came so naturally with you, he trusted you with his life, having you watch his back when he cleared a room with you, and you trusted him just as much when you smiled at him before he left for overwatch. You worked together so effortlessly, he moved when you moved, and you stopped when he stopped, step for step and act for act. It came to the point where he was never seen without you and you were always shadowed by him, stuck by the hip and fingers touching, two giants in bulk and gear stomping around base with your masks pulled up and scaring people off. It was a sight to behold. 
And in moments of vulnerability, where he once thought he had to be gentle and careful, he could fully throw himself at you without the fear of hurting you, using his whole body to press you down and his strength to hold you still, fingers bruising your scarred skin and growling out your name. He didn’t have to hold back and he didn’t have to do all the work, letting you take care of him, featherlight touches and tender kisses, praising him and encouraging him to let go. He didn’t know he liked to be treated softly, to be loved and gently handled, it was such a difference of his battle-hardened facade he put up. 
He learned that he liked being reminded of his humanity, that he was flawed and that it was all right to be a wounded being. He learned that he liked you more than he did with small and dainty women, never having to hold back and being able to let go of his control. And he learned that it was fine to not conform to the imagine people had of him, to stand out for what he liked and favoured; to trust and to love; to be cared for and to be protected; and to share his pain.
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts
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lilacslug · 6 months
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THE IMPLICATIONS OF FIONNA’S BISEXUALITY
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Now if you don’t think this is confirmation of Fionna being bisexual that’s okay, this post is more about exploring the “what ifs” anyways.
In the new series, Fionna is a reflection of more than just Finn. She’s a reflection of Simon and Prismo as well. Prismo was her creator, and he accidentally copied Finn. He stored Fionna’s world in Simon’s head, which lead to him having a great influence on the world.
If Fionna is bisexual, that implies a few different possibilities.
1. FINN IS BISEXUAL
Now, we don’t have tons of evidence for Finn being bisexual. He’s only shown confirmed attraction to female characters such as Princess Bubblegum and Flame Princess. He did have his hero, Billy, but if I recall correctly there were not sexual or romantic undertones there. However, Fionna is essentially a carbon copy of Finn. If Finn WERE bisexual, then Fionna would also be bisexual. We see that Fionna is bisexual, ergo, assuming Finn is too isn’t terrible logic.
2. PRIMSO IS BISEXUAL
Prismo is the creator of Fionna and Cake. While he accidentally copied Finn and Jake (more on that later), he wasn’t consciously doing so at first. And even after consciously leaning into it, he still had the ability to change whatever he pleased (for example, lord monochromacorn doesn’t speak Korean, he uses Morse code instead). So, he could’ve created Fionna with the intention of her being bisexual because he is too. Personally, my first oc’s were ALL bisexual. I’d argue that not only is it common with LGBT creators to project their identity into their characters, but that’s this is common knowledge in fandom at this point.
Now, Prismo has shown an affinity towards Jake. He has stated he consideres Jake his favorite person. He hasn’t shown this towards Finn at all. In creating Fionna and Cake, in accidentally “ripping off Finn and Jake” that was an act of him daydreaming about his favorite person in the multiverse, and writing about him (but him as a GIRL…interesting). The idea that Prismo has a crush on Jake, or that their relationship is homoerotic in nature is not new. This could be even more evidence pointing towards this being the case. And the fact that Prismo has to face Fionna and Cake when he does is almost poetic. He’s entered a deep depression after Jake’s passing, to the point he neglects his job without a second thought. And now, he has to face them, characters he created influenced by his devotion to Jake. This could be what he needs to get out of his funk. It’s almost TOO convenient. I mean, it WAS Cake who left Simon’s mind first, not Fionna.
3. SIMON IS BISEXUAL
Simon has been shown to have a great impact on the world, however, he’s had 0 impact on personalities and character traits of characters. And this is despite him going from Ice King to normal Simon. If we look at how sexuality is impacted by the gender flip, Marshall Lee and Gary are clearly being set up to date, implying same-gender attraction and opposite gender attraction stay consistent. (So Fionna blushing because of princess bubblegum can’t be explained by Finn being straight and having a crush on bubblegum) Although, if you want to believe everyone in the Fionna and Cake world is bisexual because Simon is bisexual, I’m not going to stop you :3
Anyways, thanks so much for reading guys. I love these characters and this world. I remember being 12 years old and not knowing any other bisexual or gay people, nor seeing any bisexual or gay people on TV. Now, I can write essays about which cartoon characters are bisexual and have all my bisexual and gay [and all other lgbt+ :3] friends read them!!! Have a nice day!
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lovelyiida · 1 year
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todoroki crush headcanons!
WARNINGS: implied fem reader, vulgar language?
MASTERLIST
WORDS: 583
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• You and Todoroki were in different classes when the two of you first met. But you wouldn’t get to know him until the UA sports festival. • Once the both you got past the strong barrier of awkward tension, it was a done deal.
Since the classes have assigned seats, you luckily got to sit next to him, as you were from class 1-B. You heard the rumors about Endeavor's infamous son, Shoto. He had a strong quirk and lives up to his father's name. It was an understatement to say that you weren’t nervous being around him. Hearing about his cold demeanor and unapproachable personality, at first you had no intention of speaking to him. But sometimes you have a really hard time keeping your mouth shut. You were currently sitting and watching the match between class 1-A’s Izuku Midoriya and Bakugo Katsuki.
You were blown away at how amazing their quirks were, you couldn’t help but voice your excitement watching the match. “Wow, aren’t they amazing?” You exclaimed, not noticing you yelled straight into Todoroki’s ear. He winces and lets out a quiet irritant groan. Looking at him you let out a gasp, “oh, I’m so sorry!” You bow in embarrassment as he bows back nonchalantly. A couple of beats follow into the awkward silence until he speaks, “yeah, they’re good aren’t they?” Even though Todoroki was tired from just getting his butt handed to him by Midoriya, he wasn’t raised to be rude. Looking back at him you smile, “sorry again—I didn’t mean to be so rude, especially after seeing what happened to you out there–“ cutting yourself off in embarrassment you look away. “N-not that you did bad– you didn’t do bad at all, you were great even! But, y’know? I should stop talking.” You earn a soft chuckle from Todoroki, making you sigh in relief. After the games ended, you introduced yourself to him. It was an odd occurrence that once you introduced yourself, you would always see him around the school. The lunchroom, the halls, the courtyards, and even on your way to the bathroom. It didn’t make it any better that the two of you would share glances at each other from time to time. Sometimes to break the awkwardness, either of you would greet the other or permit casual small talk. That act alone gave off some questionable glances from the students of UA. “You know him?” Yes. “Are you friends with him?” Yes? Then, the rumors started to spread. Sitting out in the dorm courtyards studying, your classmate walks over to you. Looking as if they have something on the tip of their tongue to say. “Is it true?” They asked, you hummed in confusion. “Is it true!” they yelled, somehow making them think that would help you. “I don’t understand…” you say. “Are you and Endeavor's son dating?” They asked. Your eyes widened as your heart sinks to your stomach.
How could they even assume that the both of were dating? You barely even spoke to the guy! But no one else has either, and your version of barely would mean you talk to him all the time… I mean, you could see how the rumors started. He’s a cute guy, you’re a cute girl, might as well be in holy matrimony. And when you saw him again, your heart began to beat faster, your palms began to get sweatier, you became an absolute mess. So you tried to avoid him at all costs. But it was like two opposite sides of a magnet that have no choice but to pull in and attract. God damn it you like him. But it’s truly impossible that he’d like you back right?
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Hello everyone! I don’t know whether or not I want to do a part 2 to this, so let me know! Just wanted to give you all a short reading moment.
— lovelyiida<3
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shadowbriar · 1 year
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Sirius Black - Sweet Rubbish
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Pairing : (F/M) || Sirius Black x Reader Word Count : 5.2k Warning : I don’t know, nothing I suppose. Synopsis : Their game of love hate pretend has to put to halt as Sirius gazed into the crystal ball. Notes : Post number 1 for my 7-days post celebration. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕
“Divination is rubbish.”
Sirius whines as he drags his feet to the class, spiteful mumbles escaping his lips with every step closer to the dreadful lesson. He loathes Divination class, to say the least. Other than the fact that the Professor always rambles about nonsense Sirius could never comprehend, sharing the hour with her irks him to the bone.
“Just because your pea-sized brain couldn't compute the knowledge given does not mean the class is rubbish, Black.”
Sirius sent dagger eyes at the girl who now walks past him with her head held high. There is no unit in this entire universe that could measure the level of hatred he has for her. She's the bane to his existence. Not a day passed without him seeing her face and wanting to take out his wand to mess her beautifully combed hair or to hex her to trip from her graceful walk. Pity she is the way that she is. He would have admitted she's magnetising if she wasn't.
“Didn't your parents ever teach you that it is improper to reply to someone when they weren't talking to you in the first place?”
“You were yelling for the whole corridor to hear, I was only doing it out of pity from the lack of feedback. Even your friends look like they've had enough of your moans.” She replies, stopping her pace to turn at him with an unamused smile “You're not denying your pea-sized brain, then?”
“My brain isn't pea-sized, it's huge! Humongous even!”
“Of course it is.”
With another toxic laced smile, she turns away and continues her journey to the class. A complete contrast to the sulking boy, she seems to be in her best mood today. Divination has always been one of the many classes she excels at. She has a clever mind and witty brain, complementing her charming personality. Just another trait of hers Sirius detests.
“One way or another I will rip off that ever so brilliant smile off of her face.”
James scoffs, “Right, mate.”
“What was that?” Sirius turns to his friends, looking incredibly offended at the unamused expressions his friends were showing “Why don’t any of you ever believe it when I express my despise to that girl?”
“Because you’re all bark and no bite, Pads.” Remus chimes “You’ve hated her since you first laid eyes on her yet you never did anything. You even got mad at Wormy for accidentally pranking her back in 3rd year.”
“Indeed,” Nods Peter, looking rather pissed at the flashback of Sirius’ overdramatic anger at him a couple years back “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re secretly in love with her.”
“Me? In love with her?” He asks with a bewildered expression “I’d rather drown by the Black Lake than to ever imagine being in love with her.”
“If you say so, Pads.” James says, patting on his best friends’ shoulder as if he understands the underlying message Sirius was implying “If you say so.”
—-
Sirius stares blankly at the Professor’s face. His mind wanders elsewhere, completely detached to his surroundings. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her sitting just a few tables below him on the right. Her posture was straight as always, complete focus and attention poured to the lesson taught. Her house coloured headband glimmers under the light of the class, enhancing the beauty of her hair. Sirius has imagined running his finger through the soft strands of her hair every once in a while, wondering what scent her shampoo would be but he would rather be jinxed with the cruciatus curse than to ever admit it aloud.
He doesn’t love her. No, love is the complete opposite of the emotions he holds for her. Sirius hates her, loathes her in fact. He couldn’t pinpoint the fundamental reasoning behind his strong abhorrence for her, he just does. Perhaps the fact that she’s too good at everything, or that she’s genuinely loved by everyone including his best friends, or that she’s simply too perfect of a girl to ever be real. 
Perhaps the idea of someone being too perfect that he couldn’t ever dream of being deserving of her, makes him hate her.
“This is horse shit.” James mumbles. The bespectacled boy then turns to the thick textbook laying on their table, skipping through the pages to find any interesting rituals they could do to fill in the time “Pads, do you want to see your future?”
Sirius glanced at James, confusion filling in his eyes, “What do you mean?”
“This,” James points at a spell on the Crystal Ball reading chapter “Looks a lot more fun than whatever mambo-jumbo the professor’s talking about, doesn't it?”
“Looks like another lark, that is.”
James rolled his eyes, “Shut up and stare at the ball. I’ll say the spell and you tell me what you see, alright?”
Sirius huffs, clearly wanting no part but hearing the Professor’s lecture for another minute would certainly burst his brain out. Reluctantly, he stares at the crystal ball with a hand supporting his chin. A small frown decorating his face. James’ whisper of the spell begins to enter his eardrums, making the slightest flame of intrigue and curiosity spark in his chest.
The once cleared crystal ball now turns cloudy, some kind of mist begins to pollute the inside of it. Sirius brows furrow, completely taken aback by the effect happening. He certainly didn’t expect James’ mispronunciation of the latin spell to work, yet here they are.
“What do you see?” James asked.
“Nothing yet,” He answers “Just some ugly grey fog.”
“Look harder!”
“I’m trying!”
And as if on cue, Sirius begins to see some sort of vision. He wasn’t even sure if it was truly happening or was his brain just playing tricks with him, but either way the grey mist now turns into shapes, slowly forming what seems to be a ceremonial venue. There were chairs lining up in front of him with flowers decorating them. He was wearing a suit, the most elegant suit he’s ever worn and there have been plenty of dress robes he’s worn in his life yet nothing compares to the grandeur of the one he’s wearing at the moment. He looks to his side, noticing the mists that now become James, Remus, Peter, and Regulus standing a couple metres away from him.
His gaze now averted to where the rose petaled aisle ends. A woman was standing with her bouquet of flowers in her hand. Her beautiful silk dress sweeps the floor as she takes the first steps closer to him. Her face was still blurred, as if the mist was still trying to craft the person’s face. A small smile now tugs on the corner of Sirius’ lips, feeling proud and content of the setting he’s in. Whoever this person is, it pleases Sirius to know that the crystal ball predicted a pleasant romance in his future.
The vision felt real now as Sirius’ heart began to palpitate, feeling the warmth of her gloved hands as it reached for his. His smile grows wider, cheeks warm from the fulfilment. It no longer feels like he was watching a prophecy, no, it feels more like he was in the scene, slowly occupying the body that is now reciting the vows the priest was saying. The feeling only gets more intense as he finally shares the kiss with his bride. He swears he could feel her soft lips on his, the hint of cherry from her lip gloss and her warm heavy breathing on his skin. It feels too real to be just a forecast.
After what seems to be the shortest forever, they finally pull away. She was smiling, her warm eyes gazing back at him with love and admiration. Her features were soft, much more beautiful than how he always thought now that he no longer had to deny the beauty of his wife. She giggles, calling his name
“Sirius!” James silently yelled, nudging his best friend with an annoyed expression “You completely ignored me for the last five minutes!”
Sirius blinks, trying to comprehend his reality.
“You were gone,” His best friend continued “What happened? What did you see?”
The raven haired boy cleared his throat, “Nothing. I– Uh– I saw nothing.”
“Bullshit, you definitely saw something.” James scoffs “Your cheeks are red!”
“I didn’t see anything, alright!” Sirius defends with more persistence “Must be because of your shitty pronunciation or something, I don’t know!”
James frowns, muttering his confusion on how his spell fails when it wasn’t the most tongue-twisting one he’s done before. Sure he wasn’t the most brilliant out of them four with charms, but he was still better than most and nailing a spell in the first trial wasn’t a new thing for James. He wanted to argue more about the hunch he has that Sirius was lying but the boy looks like he’s seen a ghost. Perhaps the spell did work and the vision Sirius had was just something he’s not ready to talk about. Whatever it is, James has made it his mission to find out, be it today or tomorrow.
—-
The next couple of days the strange behaviour Sirius tries his best to hide is becoming more and more visible. He would skip his meals and turn the other way when she was around. Even when she was busy with her group of friends and completely unaware of his presence, Sirius would still avoid her like the plague. He would exchange seats in classes he shares with her, occupying the furthest spot from her and blocking his view physically from her.
And such action didn’t go unnoticed for too long.
“Have you been sick or did the dementors kidnap you, Black?” She mused, taking a seat opposite of him and next to Remus “I haven’t seen you lately.”
Sirius gulps, completely frozen in his seat.
“Morning, Love.” Remus greets her “He’s been avoiding everyone, don’t take it personally.”
“Has he? Here I thought I was a special someone to be receiving such treatment.”
“He’s been acting strange since divination class,” James says as he swallowed the bits of food in his mouth “We were fooling around and tried to read his future through the crystal ball and– Oof! What was that for?”
James yelped at the sudden nudge to his rib. Sirius glares at him, sending him a death threat.
“Really? I thought you said Divination is rubbish, Sirius.” She teased, her playful smile decorating her face “What did you see? Anything interesting?”
Sirius lowers his gaze to his plate of food, not daring to spend another second staring at her face. His skin feels warm, like the temperature somehow raised a couple degrees and he’s the only one boiled. 
The lack of response from him somehow twisted a knife she didn’t know was stabbing her heart. It was evident that he was avoiding her, for whatever reason he might have. His silent treatment now only proves the effort he’s made to keep his distance that she so hard convinced herself was nothing more than a mere illusion. Sirius, as loud and apparent as his claims of vexation for her all these years, still holds a soft spot and that their love-hate relationship was nothing more than a silly game of pretend. Perhaps she was wrong all along.
“Well, I’ve got to go,” She fakes a chirpy persona, taking his mute to be her cue to leave “I’ll see you gentlemen around.”
As if a splinter’s been taken off of his toe, Sirius lets out a relieved sigh once she leaves their table. The audible huff made his friends raise their brows high, completely lost at the charade he’s playing. The two would always bicker, picking fights and arguments over the slightest most trivial matters that more often than not the boys would wish that they could hex the two with some stunning spell. Yet for the first time in their lives, they’re left wondering why Sirius would zip his mouth shut in her presence.
“What?” Sirius asks, noticing the questioning eyes glued on him.
“Do you really expect us to look past the fact that you didn’t spare her a word for the first time in your life?” Peter asks, fully suspicious of his friend’s antics “Are you ill, Padfoot?”
James whines, “Come on, mate, tell us what you saw on that crystal ball.”
“I saw nothing, Prongs.” Sirius says with a more stern tone “And I’m not ill, Wormy.”
“Well you’re certainly not straight in the head.”
“Oh yeah, Moony? And what makes you say that?”
Remus shrugs, “You’ve been acting strange for days and now that she’s here you’re completely ignoring her. Did she break your heart or something?”
“No, no she didn’t.” Sirius fidgets, tapping on his cheek as he looks at Remus accusingly “Say, when you call her ‘Love’, do you just– You know, casually call girls that or do you mean it like.. I don’t know.. Like my Love kind of thing?”
Remus turned to James with a baffled expression while Peter now had his jaw hang low. The three boys are now whisked deeper into the maze, trying to decipher Sirius’ true intention. He was never as cryptic and never held secrets from the boys before, always been the most open and true to others yet he’s acting like a completely different person now.
“Oh Merlin, is that what you see?” James asks with a shocked tone “Moony and her? Did you see them snog each other?”
“What? No!”
“That wouldn’t make sense, Prongs. If Moony was snogging her then it should be Moony who’s seeing the prophecy, not Padfoot.” Peter comments, slowly understanding the riddle as the smirk grows on his face “Did you see your future with her, Pads?”
Sirius cheeks heat up, shaking his head vigorously, “No.”
“You totally did, you tosser!” Remus points out with a victorious smile “You actually saw a future with her, didn’t you?!”
Sirius buries his face to his palm, trying to cover his now crimson face.
“You are so pathetic, Pads.” James laughed, completely entertained by the sight in front of him “All these years expressing your disdain for her only to have the universe pairing you two all along.”
“I don’t know Prongs, he’s always been in love with her for me.” Remus pours more salt “He’s just too embarrassed to admit it.”
Peter chuckles, circling his arm around Sirius’ shoulder to make him come out of his shell, “So what exactly did you see, Padfoot?”
—-
Coming clean to the boys only made Sirius more conscious. They have been acting as persisting bees in his head, lecturing him non stop and urging him to let go of the cat and mouse game and just come forward with his feelings. Crystal gazing is one of the most conceivable forms of divination, as Remus notes, yet the chance of the prophecy being false was never zero. No kind of divination is 100% false proof and Sirius still couldn’t tell if the vision he saw was a true prediction of his future or was it just a manifestation of his deep desire for her.
And if all this hype was caused by the latter, Sirius wouldn’t know how to survive from the heartbreak.
So now he finds himself walking to the other side of the castle, taking small steps as he climbs the stairs to the Divination class. He has to see the prophecy once more, make sure that the spell James uttered that day was right and that the crystal ball was truly predicting his future with her. He needs to know that his head wasn’t playing tricks with him just because he’s been turning deaf to what his heart has been yearning for all these years.
Coming inside the class, Sirius' pace was put to halt when he spotted her, sitting on her usual table as she gazed into the crystal ball. She looks up to him, probably hearing the sound of the creaking wooden floor when he enters and flashes him a smile, looking surprised to see him yet appreciative at the same time.
“Sirius,” She calls with a pleasant tone “What a surprise.”
He gulps, “I– Uh, I think I left my textbook here.”
“Did you? I think the Professor stacks the left textbooks on that corner, perhaps you’ll find yours there.” She points at a cupboard, seemingly buying the lie Sirius came up with.
“What are you doing here?”
“Crystal gazing.” She answers “Would you like to join?”
Sirius hesitated but found himself sitting next to her, heart pounding loud inside his chest from the close space. Sure it wasn’t the first time they sat next to each other, but it certainly is the first time they’re together with no other soul present. This is the first time they act civil, if not friendly, to each other. This is the first time, after seeing their wedding prophecy, they’re at each other’s company.
“Should we see yours or my prophecy?”
“Yours.” Sirius answers.
“You’d like to see mine?”
“Can we do that?” He asks, completely oblivious of the topic “When I tried it with James he couldn’t see my prophecy.”
“Well, I am not James, am I?”
Sirius smiles.
“Put your hand just above the ball.. Yeah, just like that,” She instructed him, utterly unaware of the nervous havoc Sirius was feeling when she touched his hand and positioned it above the ball “Are you ready?”
He nods.
She begins to cast the spell, something similar to the one James uttered but this one was lengthier. Like she knew a different, more advanced, spell to use for their fortune telling ritual. Sirius' eyes now travels from her to the crystal ball, trying to see what her prophecy would be.
The clear ball slowly turns misty, just like when he did the gazing with James. He could see the Great Hall forming, with its long tables now exchanged with seats filled with who seemed to be graduating students. He could see her, sitting among these students with her eyes glued to the podium where he was shaking Dumbledore’s hand. He could see himself, jogging back to the empty seat next to her with a big bright smile, pulling her close to his embrace once he reached her and sealing her lips with his.
The vision was short. Much shorter than the one he saw with James but the intensity was just the same. He could practically feel her lips on his, the pressure of her body as he pulled her close, and the sweet scent of her perfume that he has just now learned much lighter than a fine spring breeze. It was too real to ever just be a vision.
He looks up to her, noticing her lack of expression, “You don’t look disgusted.”
“Why would I be disgusted?”
“I kissed you,” Sirius says with an unsure tone “You saw that too, didn’t you? Or was that just me?”
She narrows her eyes, “What are you talking about?”
Sirius turns pale, gulping at the fact that he just blurted out what he saw.
He opens his mouth, only to close it again in the lack of words. His brain stopped functioning at the very time he needed to explain something to her. His blood turns cold, scared to death that he’s making it awkward between them but before he could actually pass out, she lets out a heartfelt laughter.
“Merlin, you’re so pale right now!” She says between her laughter “I’m only joking, Black. I know.”
He raised an eyebrow, “You know?”
“Yeah, I know.” She affirms with a nod, resting her hand under her chin as she watches him intently “This isn’t the first prophecy I have that involves you in it.”
“It wasn’t?”
“Nope. I had one too many about you, if I’m being honest.”
“Did you?”
“Yes,” She answers with a smile “Are you going to continue with your two worded question? I mean it’s cute, but certainly out of character from the typical Sirius Black.”
Sirius’ cheeks turn red, turning silent this time.
The glee from her face waters down fast, noticing the silence she’s caused between them. If he didn’t know better, Sirius would’ve sworn that he saw a glimmer of disappointment and heartbreak in her eyes, but why would she feel such feelings, right?
“I– Uh– I just remembered I have this thing to do,” She says abruptly as she she stood from her seat, evidently trying to flee from the situation and packing her belongings “I hope you’ll find your textbook, Sirius.”
And with that, she left.
—-
To say that he feels horrible from how their encounter ended would be an understatement. Something about her departure feels off, like he just did a grave mistake he wasn’t sure what about. The way her smile dilutes and the dimmed glint of spark in her eyes as she left haunts him.
He tries to recall the last moments before disaster strikes. He couldn’t look past the strangeness of how she called him cute one moment and bolted out the door the next. What went wrong?
“Someone’s pinching your bird,” James coos.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Meaning?”
“We just saw Lucius asking your girl for a Hogsmeade date.” Remus adds, taking a seat next to him “She didn’t say yes, though. Wait, did she or did she not? I’m not sure, we left before she could give an answer but I’m betting she said no.”
“I bet 5 galleons she said yes.”
“Wormtail!” Sirius says with a pure betrayed expression “I thought you were on my side!”
“I was, but you’re slacking mate.” Peter reasoned with a shrug “Whatever issue you think you have with her is certainly more important to you than the prophecy you’ve seen before your own eyes. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“I’m with Wormy,” James nods “I bet she says yes to ugly snobby Lucius.”
Sirius lets out a gasp, completely surprised at his friends’ betrayal.
“You know what, maybe you’re right. Maybe she said yes.”
“Moony!”
Remus shrugs.
“She said no.” Sirius says with confidence, firmly “She said no, you wanna know why? Because she too saw her prophecies with me. Yeah, prophecies, meaning multiple times. Loads of times. She saw her future with me so she would not say yes to Lucius’ invite.”
The boys look at each other, confused and surprised at the new information dropped.
“I don’t know mate, it seems like she said yes.”
Sirius turns his sight to the direction James was pointing at. There they were, her and Lucius entering the Great Hall with what seems to be the most intriguing conversation ever. She was smiling, her cheeks red from all the laughter. Her eyes were glued on Lucius, as if no one else were present in the room, as if Sirius wasn’t in the room.
Jealousy was never in his dictionary but for the first time in his life, Sirius has never ever wanted to pluck someone and hex them to disintegrate until now. Exactly what can a guy as arrogant and grim as Lucius say to make her laugh like that? No one should deserve to see her bright smile and hear her melodious laughter. No one but him.
“Better work your way soon, Padfoot.” Remus comments “Or else your vision would turn into nothing more than a mere fantasy.”
—-
“Wait, wait!” Sirius shouts as he runs, trying to catch her before she vanishes again “Wait!”
She turns, looking surprised to see the boy with sweat laced skin coming to her. His hair was dishevelled, not that Sirius ever combed it neatly, but much more messy than the usual. He looks as if he’s run through every corner of the castle, trying to find her.
And in reality, he did.
“Black,” She calls, hands folding in front of her chest “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” He nods, catching his breath “Tell me you did not say yes to Lucius’ invite.”
She blinks, looking completely appalled at his request.
“My friends told me Lucius asked you for a date. Please tell me you said no to him.”
A frown forms on her face, “Why do you care what I said to him?”
“Well you’re my future, aren’t you? Of course I care about what you said to him.” Sirius reasoned “Now will you please release me from this torment and just say that you said no to him.”
She stares at him as if he’s grown an extra head. Sirius could feel his feet cold, shrinking down under her gaze. There’s nothing he wished he could do more than to read her mind right now. Something went wrong that day, Sirius knows it he can feel it, he just doesn’t know what it is and he fears that it would only be the gasoline to the supposedly budding romance between her and others.
“I don’t get you, Sirius.” She begins with a disappointed tone “First you act like you didn’t want me to be your future and yet now that someone asks me to be their date, you suddenly want me? How is that fair?”
“Wait, what?” He asked, appalled “When did I ever say I don’t want you to be my future?”
“You’ve been ignoring me ever since you saw that prophecy with James, whatever it may be about, and you went silent when I told you that I know about our prophecies.” She reasoned, her nostrils flaring from the vexation she could finally burst in “It's pretty clear to me that you don’t want me to be in your future.”
“You– You think I was avoiding you because I didn’t want you to be my future?”
“I don’t know, do you have any better explanation than that?”
“Yes,” He answers, only to shake his head the next minute “I mean, no, but–”
Sirius runs his hand through his hair, looking visibly frustrated at the misunderstanding they somehow got entangled in. He looks at her, who's still waiting for his explanation, and flashes her a sad smile. He was never good with words, not at crucial moments like this, but he knew that if he didn’t try tonight, he might as well say goodbye to the prophecies that have turned into the dreams he’s seeing every night in his sleep now.
“Do you even remember when we started to be so hostile to each other?” He asks gently.
She shakes her head, unsure on where the conversation is being directed to.
“I don’t either but I’ve always known why I could never be friendly with you.”
She gulps, asking with a voice barely above a whisper, “Why?”
“Because I don’t believe that someone as perfect as you exists in this world. I just can’t.” He confessed, a shameful smile shown on his face “I just couldn’t believe that someone as smart, as lovely, and as beautiful as you is real and I don’t think anyone is deserving of that. Even for someone as narcissistic as I am.”
“As you are?”
“Especially as I am.” He repeats “And I thought, if I couldn’t love you I should just hate you. Maybe that would water down the affection I have for you over the years and I have been doing just fine with denying my feelings for you until James stupidly made me gaze into that stupid crystal and I saw it. I saw us.”
Her facial expression softens, yielding to the sweet words he’s uttering, “What did you see?”
“I saw you walking down the aisle.”
She smiles.
“And I was there.” He continues “As the groom, if that wasn’t clear in the first place.”
A laughter broke from her lips, easing Sirius’ mind that he could finally diffuse the tension.
“You were beautiful in white.” He adds, eyes full of love and affection “And I can’t wait to finally be on that day so please, for the sake of my pathetic tottering heart, please tell me that you said no to Lucius.”
She begins to sniffle as the beads of tears that were decorating her tears started to fall. Her eyes were still glued on him, watching him as if he was the one thing she ever asked the universe to give and have finally been granted of it. Her shoulders were relaxed yet no matter how beautiful the sight he’s seeing right now, Sirius still couldn’t find peace until she gave him her assurance.
“Please tell me those are happy tears and not because you said yes to Lucius.”
“Oh, bloody hell, can we please stop talking about him? You’re ruining our moment!”
“Well I can’t really enjoy our moment with the possibility of you going on a date with someone else still hanging now, can I?!”
“Are we seriously arguing right now?”
“I don’t want to but it just feels so natural to argue with you.” Sirius huffs “So did you or did you not agree to his date, woman?”
“I did not.” She finally says, mirroring his exasperated expression “Happy now?”
“Very.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“You are very annoying, do you know that?” Sirius asks, his brows still furrow in irritation.
“No, not really. Must have slipped off my mind, just like every other million times you utter it.” She says with her hands now resting on her hips “Is that all?”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, “How do you mean?”
“Well did you look for me just to ask if I said yes to Lucius? Or do you have something else you wanted to do with me other than confessing your, as you claim, pathetic tottering heart?”
Sirius opens his mouth, taking full offence at her mocking of his confession, but her question birthed a new urge in his heart. He’s confessed to her and she has accepted it, so it seems, would it be proper for him now to ask for a kiss? Would it be a proper time for him to ask for them to seal their future romantic endeavours?
His cheeks begin to turn rosy at the thought of finally kissing her. The emotions from the prophecies start to fill his chest, now feeling much less satisfying than how they used to. With her standing in front of him now and giving him the same heart eyes, the image of them kissing now could barely mean a thing as the possibility that such a pleasant gesture could happen any time soon. And he prays to whoever deity up there that it would happen sooner than later.
“So? Do you really just want to confess?” She asks, giving him hints now that she too wanted the delightful image to come to reality “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Sirius, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.”
“You just never know when to shut up, do you?”
With that, Sirius takes his bold steps to her, finally sealing their lips together. He could feel his soul bursting in flames, melting into one with her. He never knew that he was so deprived of such fortune until he finally tastes her, until he finally feels his body pressed into his, until he finally has her.
“Do you still think Divination’s rubbish now?”
“Still rubbish,” He answers between their kisses “Sweet rubbish.”
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roxtron · 2 months
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Anyone ever think about the idea that the mimic is mimicking what it did to gregory before being trapped?
probably, I'm sure I'm not the only person to think about this. but am I going to talk about it anyway? absolutely. Okay so basically.. a couple of the mimic's voicelines are copy-pasted from Security Breach, right? While this is the first time we've seen the mimic copy anyone before, I believe most of his voicelines do come from somewhere. Sorry, that sounds vague. What I mean by that is I don't believe everything the mimic says is 100% a lie it created. For example a lot of people joke about the mimic being more whiny when pretending to be Gregory. Joking about how it's the biggest red flag because Gregory was never really that scared in Security Breach. But did it really just come up with that on its own? What if it's mimicking Gregory in the state he was in when he left? What if Gregory was that scared when dealing with the mimic? And it's not just that, I think some voicelines actually give a bit of hint to this too.
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"Help! Something grabbed me! It won't let me go!" I feel like this line and others like it may actually describe what the mimic did. The way Gregory refers to the mimic as "that thing," and the only other 'thing' it could be pretending to be afraid of is the blob, which already tunneled out by the time Cassie gets here. And while the mimic isn't the best at keeping its story straight.. (Claiming to be running/hiding from Roxy while it's trapped under the sinkhole, though I believe that could be him trying to cover up the real Gregory attempting to speak to her, regaining control of the situation. After all if that voice line was the mimic why would Roxy run in the opposite direction of the walkie talkie to go chase him?) I feel like if the mimic was pretending it was the blob that grabbed him, he wouldn't also admit that it tunneled out later on. (I'll get to that don't worry.) Sure, this is a fabricated lie to lure Cassie, but my point is, what story is the mimic trying to create here? What is the mimic trying to claim happened to it/Gregory? I was going to bring these screenshots up later, but..
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(Original screenshot + edited version to see the handprint better.) The handprint on the vent outside where the mimic is trapped, with Gregory's backpack underneath it, if you haven't seen theories about it already it seems to clearly imply Gregory lured the mimic in through the vent, that's his handprint. Why I'm bringing this up here though, that handprint looks bloody, doesn't it? Maybe it's just me, maybe it's just the lighting, but I feel like that looks more like a bloody/liquid stain smear than a smear of dust or something. So what if what happened was what the mimic described? It grabbed Gregory, and didn't let him go, causing his arms to get stabbed through and bleed after he escaped through the vent. (If you can't picture what I'm saying or just want a cool visual of this happening, go see this post it's cool and basically shows what I'm talking about, I only thought of this detail because of their post, also the art is cool.)
Anyway, moving on..
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"That thing is here again. I gotta hide. Save me."
What if getting the mimic to that specific room wasn't all of the luring Gregory had to do? What if he periodically had to deal with being chased/hunted by the mimic while trying to get it to follow him to that area of the pizzaplex? (This is probably the most speculation, there's not a lot you can get from this line, but it's still a cool idea I think.) OR, an alternate take.. The mimic is being interrupted by the real Gregory's attempts to reach Cassie, and the mimic is using this opportunity as an excuse while it attempts to block his signal. (I've theorized about the differences between each speaking a bit before, but basically, I find it notable that the only times the real Gregory seems to get through to Cassie is when the mimic is busy/distracted/unavailable. So the mimic likely has to make an active effort to block his attempts, hence why he ends up using other signals to try to reach her, like the hacked staff bot. Again this is heavy speculation, but I find it interesting if he's basically telling the story in real-time and sort of swapping him and Gregory.)
Overall there's not a lot you can gather out of this line that I haven't already mentioned in the previous one, so let's move on.
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"Something tunneled out.. broke everything. Now I'm stuck here!"
Before I go over this, take it with a grain of salt. Yes I think this is him referring to the blob tunneling out, causing the 'earthquake' that broke the pizzaplex to the state it's in when Cassie arrives. Considering the tunnel in the sinkhole and seeing the blob in a tunnel early in the game, this adds up. However.. I think there might be a double meaning here. It's a bit of a reach, but what if it's also referring to Gregory a bit here? "Something tunneled out," it's implied Gregory used the vent (sort of a tunnel) to escape the room the mimic is trapped in. "Broke everything," ruined the mimic's plans. "Now I'm stuck here," well, that's self explanitory. Gregory used the vent to escape, ruined the mimic's plans, and trapped it there. I also find it interesting this seems to be the final time the mimic mentions something else down there with it. (Even during its final pleas in Roxy Raceway, it only says "Save me, it's so dark down here." Nothing about that "thing" putting him in danger.) Do I think this line is specifically the mimic talking about Gregory? No, I think its main purpose is to explain where the blob went. But I do think it's possible there's a double meaning to it, intentional or not..
Like I said that's the last line of dialogue where the mimic mentions something else down there with it, so there's not a lot more to talk about. My biggest points and evidence were in the beginning tbh, it probably would've been best to cover it at the end of this post but I wanted to go over the voice lines in chronological order to when they appear in-game. I know some of the stuff I said is reaching a bit, I'm not 100% confident that'd be the correct interpretation.. but it's something to think about, that's my point. Whether I'm right or wrong I think the theory is worth considering. If you read this far, that's cool, I hope this was entertaining or had some kind of value to you. I like writing analysis stuff like this so it's always nice when other people enjoy it too. :)
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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 9 months
Text
The Boss - Rooster
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.4k
This work, all of my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES PEOPLE HAVE TO SAY THIS SHIT
Warnings: Bodyguard AU; Power Imbalance; Seemingly One-Sided Attraction; Not Necessarily Healthy Dynamics; Power Struggle; Implied Age Gap (Still VERY MUCH Legal); References to Stabbing; References to Death Threats; Referenced Nudity/Showers; Light Angst; Longing; Reader is a Bit of a Brat; Bradley Suffers; Female Reader with No Name or Identifying Description, No Y/N
Summary: You and your bodyguard, Rooster, are at odds when he tries to keep you locked in the safe house.
Part 2
Master List
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It wasn’t like you asked to be the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. Your father was known internationally and so was the rest of your family by extension. With all of the fame, money, and power, of course, came the added side effects. Like the threats against your life, since you were your father’s only child after all.
Enter Bradley. Or Rooster as you were supposed to call him whenever you communicated via comms or within earshot of anyone else.
After several threats against your life, your father hired Bradley as your personal bodyguard. He was a part of the revered Iron Daggers, an underground squad of the most elite fighters that the world didn’t know about. Not the general public anyways. 
The Iron Daggers had a reputation of pulling of the impossible. Of always protecting their targets and getting them out of whatever horrible situation in the end. And when your father contacted Maverick, the leader of the Iron Daggers, he sent Rooster.
The best of the best apparently.
And the best looking bodyguard you had or would ever have for the rest of your life.
Hell, you were only human. Rooster or Bradley, as you tended to call him when you were alone, which was often, was tall with a broad, muscled frame that you wouldn’t mind on top of you. His hair and eyes a light chestnut brown that just reeked of homey. And he was quite possibly the only man who you thought could pull off that mustache and somehow become more attractive as a result.
But there were rules. No fraternization or whatever. As if locking you up with just an absolute stud of a man was supposed to prevent you from falling for him.
Spoiler—it had the opposite effect.
But Bradley, ever the professional, never gave into any of your comments or you glances. The most he would do would be to smile sweetly at you and then go straight back to work. And fuck it was getting old. And embarrassing. But, of course, that didn’t stop your mind from wandering or your eyes.
Even on that night, when surrounded by the richest and most powerful people in the world who were all dressed to impress, you were staring at Bradley. He was never more than five steps from you and even if you didn’t have a staring problem, it would have been near impossible for you to be unable to find him.
Finding Bradley’s gaze deviating into the crowd, you couldn’t help but follow his gaze.
A man dressed in a suit that you knew was expensive, was clearly walking towards you through the crowd. You didn’t recognize the man, but you were sure that he knew who you were based on how he looked at you. Not stressed in the slightest, you turned to your right as you felt a gentle hand on the small of your back. In an instant, Bradley was right by your side, putting himself in between you and the approaching man.
"Can I buy you a drink?" Bradley asked, causing your smile to immediately brighten.
“Yes, you may,” you agreed, practically beaming up at Bradley. 
He looked absolutely dashing in his suit, which was pressed and tailored to fit him perfectly. He was here under the guise of being a wealthy businessman and he seemed to play the part perfectly. He offered you his hand, which you took gently, and the two of you headed over to the bar together. Bradley ordered a drink for you and a glass of water for himself before turning to you. He leaned forward, causing your breath to hitch as his lips and the edges of his mustache brushed against your ear.
"Did you recognize him?" Rooster asked, talking about the man who tried to approach you.
"No," you replied, your eyes fluttering closed as you brushed your cheek against his own. "I don't. But I'm not worried about him."
"I'll be the judge of that."
And in an instant, the warmth from Bradley was gone. He was back in his protective body guard mode and nothing that she could do or would do would be able to break that concentration.
The two of you grabbed your drinks from the bar, after quick tampering checks, walked over to one of the tables in the corner. Bradley sat down and angled himself so that he could see the party, but you were entirely focused on him. And hell, anyone who was staring at you could have seen that the only person you had on your mind was Bradley.
It was a poorly concealed crush that was quickly getting a bit out of hand. After all, Bradley was a handful of years older than you and there was no way that your relationship would survive in ‘the real world.’ Though, you didn't care about that. But you knew that Bradley would never break and cross that line. He’d been in this business since he was eighteen. He wouldn’t crack. 
So, you just kept tugging on the possibilities of a fabricated school girl crush to try and keep some kind of sanity in the mess you called your life. 
“Why are you so tense?” you whispered to Bradley, grabbing his hand. “There’s security everywhere. We’re fine.”
“There’s security, but they’re not watching you.”
Taking a sip of your drink, you glanced out at the crowd once again, particularly the dance floor. Feeling a bit emboldened, you hurried to sip down the rest of your drink before hopping up from your seat. 
“Come on. Let’s dance,” you stated, holding out your hand to Bradley. 
“What?”
“I want to dance. So, let’s dance,” you replied as if it was a normal request. 
“But,” Bradley started to protest. 
“Please,” you whispered, which instantly caused his resolve to buckle. 
“Okay, but I’m keeping an eye out.”
“I know. I’ll take it,” you responded, taking Bradley’s hand. 
Pulling him up, you led him out onto the dance floor. A slower and more elegant song was playing, so you rested a hand on Bradley’s shoulder and held his hand. Bradley placed a hand on your waist at a respectful height and swayed with you to the music, though his eyes were always looking out at the crowd. 
Sighing, you tried to get him to glance down at you for even a moment, but Bradley always took his job seriously and put it first. Really, you shouldn't complain since his attention was meant to protect you and make sure you woke up the next morning. But sometimes, you just wanted to forget all of that.
Resting your head against his chest, you closed your eyes and just swayed, trying to make the most of the moment. And unbeknownst to you, that subtle touch worked. 
Bradley, once he felt your head on his chest, broke his stare out at the room and turned to you. Your eyes were closed, so you didn’t notice his stare, but a few moments later, you felt his thumb rub circles in your hip. Smiling softly, you listened to Bradley’s heartbeat and enjoyed the moment. Just when Bradley started to rest his head on top of your own, a scream echoed through the room. 
In an instant, Bradley was on alert. Wrapping his arm protectively around your waist, he spun you away from the source of the scream. The both of you glanced quickly through the crowd to see what the commotion was about and gasped when you spotted a man with a knife sticking out of his chest. 
You didn’t even have time to scream yourself before Bradley pulled you out of the room. 
~~~~~
“That’s it. No more of those stupid parties,” Bradley stated as the two of you returned to the safe house. 
You got away cleanly and the security checks were complete. You were safe. Bradley did his job and got you out of there in one piece. But Bradley was kicking himself the whole way back to the safe house. He should have gotten you out of the room faster. What if you were the intended target? Hell, he shouldn’t have let you out in the first place. 
You were silent the whole drive home and Bradley had wrapped his jacket around your shoulders when you couldn’t help but shiver. The image of the stabbed man was still fresh in your mind and you were still in a bit of shock. Your bare feet padded on the cold concrete floor as your heels hung from Bradley’s hand. 
“That’s the last time we leave here for anything pointless,” Bradley vowed, holding the door open for you. 
But his words seemed to startle you back to reality. Flickering your gaze up to his hardened stare, you frowned lightly. 
“So, I’m just locked away in here?” you whispered out.
“Until it’s safe,” he replied firmly, not even turning to look at you. 
“Don’t I get a say in this?” you demanded, raising your voice a little. 
“Sure. Do you want to live?” Rooster asked sarcastically, causing you to purse your lips together and glare at him. 
“So, I’m just your prisoner now?”
“I’m pretty sure that prisoners aren’t supposed to pay their captors,” Rooster replied with a bit of an attitude, causing you to scoff. “Look, it’s simple. You go out and you’re in danger. So, you’ll stay here where it’s safe.”
You took a step towards Bradley, glaring up at him. Bradley stared down at you evenly and even though you couldn’t quite pick up on it, his self-control was dangerously close to slipping. Your eyes bore into Bradley’s soul as your lips curled into a scowl. 
“You can’t keep me here forever. I’m not a prisoner. And I’m certainly not yours.”
Slipping off his jacket from around your shoulders, you shoved it into his chest before turning and storming off to your room. Bradley grabbed his jacket before it could fall to the ground and watched you as you stormed away from him, trying to not focus on the sensual sway of your hips or the subtle jiggle of your ass.
Gulping thickly, Bradley turned back to the monitors and focused on the task at hand. He gripped the table harshly, reminding himself why he was here. 
He was supposed to protect you. And he almost failed at his job tonight. You could have been hurt because he wasn’t paying attention. And he wouldn’t let himself slip again.
~~~~~ 
You were furious. Absolutely furious with Bradley.
He managed to convince your family that it was safer for you to stay in the safe house or at least a safe house than to go out. And before you could even wake up the next morning, any lick of freedom was taken away from you. The chances to see your friends and family? Gone. Unless they went through the thirty security steps to come visit you in the safe house. Any chance to do anything outside of the safe house sans emergencies? Gone.
You were livid. 
Storming downstairs in the compound, your bare feet padded against the polished concrete floors. You knew exactly where to find Bradley since he still sent you texts about where he was located in the house for safety procedures. You were still dressed in your pajamas, shorts and a tee shirt that actually belonged to Bradley, since you read through your texts with your family while brushing your teeth that morning. 
Forcing your way into the gym, you stormed over to where Bradley was working out, pumping some large dumbbells as music played in the background. Grabbing the remote, you shut off the music, causing Bradley to drop the dumbbells and whip around just in time to catch your positively irate expression.
“Where the hell do you get off!?” you demanded, poking him harshly in the middle of his chest. 
“You heard?” Bradley guessed, looking almost bored with the situation. 
“Of course, I heard! You tattletale!” 
“They requested a status update and I gave them one. It’s not my fault that they agree with me,” Bradley stated, earning a sharp glare from you. 
“Do you want me to go crazy in here?”
“You have every kind of entertainment that a person could possibly need—”
“—I am trapped with only one other person, who just happens to treat me like a child incapable of making their own decisions, in this stupid prison that I never asked for!” you yelled, causing Bradley to pause. “Of course, I’m going crazy! Stop treating me like I’m some delicate baby! And it wouldn’t kill you to listen to me for once!”
Without another word, you stormed out of the gym and headed back to your bedroom. Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair. He paced a bit, wanting to go back to the workout that he started. But the second that he sat back down, he was standing up again, your disappointed and betrayed expression stuck in his mind.
Bradley walked through the halls, knowing from the security updates on his watch, that you returned to your bedroom. Reaching the door, he knocked lightly on the bulletproof material, letting it echo for a moment before he called your name. 
“What?” you called back, clearly annoyed. 
“Can we talk?”
“Fine. Come in.”
Bradley opened the door, letting it close behind him as he straightened up. But when he finally looked up, he practically stumbled to the floor at the sight of you. 
You were in the middle of tying your hair back and glanced over at Rooster from where you were sitting in front of your mirror. The clothes that you were wearing when you stormed into the gym to confront him were laid out on your bed. And what were you wearing?
A towel. A simple folded fluffy cream-colored towel was all that protected your modesty from his gaze.
“Well?” you demanded, seemingly unfazed by your state of undress.
In actuality, heat was subtly crawling up your neck when you caught the subtle dip of Bradley’s gaze to the tops of your breasts and then your thighs. But in the split second between Bradley’s knock and your answer, you were feeling overwhelmingly petty. And hell, if you were sick of being trapped in this place without any kind of escape, you assumed Bradley was just as pent up as you were.
And, well, you assumed that Bradley—the professional that he was—wouldn’t dare look at you or touch you and compromise his job. So, it was a quiet and not-so-subtle jab back at him for being such as ass and locking you in the safe house.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Bradley asked, staring up at the ceiling awkwardly before turning back to you.
“Calm down, Captain Chastity, I’ve got a towel on,” you huffed, holding the towel together to prove your point. “And I was going to take a shower until you interrupted me.”
“Then why did you let me in here?” Rooster demanded, annoyance seeping into his tone.
“You wanted to talk and I wanted to get it over with,” you replied, standing up from your vanity.
Feeling a bit emboldened by the fact that Bradley wouldn’t even look at you when you were in this state, and in need of taking some kind of control in your life, you stood up and padded over to where Bradley was standing in your room.
His jaw was set harshly, making his jawline appear all the more sharp. Veins popped off of his neck due to how tightly he was holding his jaw shut. His cheeks were colored by perhaps rage or embarrassment or a mix of both. But he kept his gaze on your eyes. Never once breaking and glancing down to stare at the more scandalous views you. And well, if he wanted to play that game, you would play that game. This was a battle of wills and you weren’t going to crack first.
“I’m not your prisoner, Rooster,” you warned him. "You're not the boss of me."
"I'm just trying to do my job. Stop making it so difficult," Bradley shot back, staring you down.
In a flash of defiance and reflection of just how pent up you felt, you reached up and grabbed the fold of your towel. A quick flick of your wrist and the fabric gave way. Bradley, ever the professional, averted his eyes and stared at the ceiling as your towel pooled on the ground.
"Is that difficult enough for you?" you huffed, setting your hands on your now bare hips.
Staring up at him as he refused to move and look at you, you took two steps towards him, feeling more emboldened than before. Bradley noticeably tensed as you drew closer to him and raised yourself up on your toes to whisper in his ear.
“You can’t keep me locked in here forever," you vowed, causing Bradley's jaw to lock. "You're not the boss of me."
Bradley stayed where he was as you walked into your bathroom and started the shower. It wasn’t until he heard your shower door slide shut that he lowered his gaze away from the ceiling. Breathing heavily and now absolutely red in the face, Bradley glanced down to see your towel on the ground. Shuddering, he turned and stumbled out of your room.
He was about to turn for the gym before changing his mind and heading for his own bedroom instead. Slamming the door shut behind him, Rooster quickly locked the door behind him before heading for the shower himself. He wasted no time in cranking the shower to ice cold and shoving himself under the spray.
Jesus Christ, you were going to be the death of him.
Part 2
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readychilledwine · 8 months
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Cassian Week Day 2 Prompt Gentle-
A/N: Cassian has My heart, but I rarely can write him as a love interest the way some people so amazingly can. When I think of Cassian, I think of my older brother. A kind, loving, and gentle person who, due to his larger size, was cast into this role of a dominating force, and Cassian embraced it. "Gentle" is my absolute favorite prompt from this week, and I had planned to keep this to myself, but I have so many little fics and drabbles already locked away that I wanted to make sure anyone else who sees Cassian as the safe big brother also had something to read.. So enjoy 💜
Warnings- implied injury and unedited (you know the best warning)
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Reader is the youngest Archeron sister, and after being made, has begged Rhysand to allow her to have combat training. Hand to hand doesn't go as planned, though, when Azriel gets asked to spar her so Cassian can watch and take notes on her progress.
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Your back hit the training mat with a loud thud. All you could do was blink the shock from your system as Cassian ran over to your side separating you from Azriel. The loud cough and gasp you released as your body screamed for oxygen had you rolling to your side.
"What the fuck, Az?" Cassian was in shock. His voice was muffled to your ears as you tried to focus on calming the burning sensation in your lungs.
"She was doing so well, I just-" Azriel sighed at the look Cassian shot him, "I got caught up in thinking it was someone more experienced. I thought she could handle it." Azriel's own guilt hit you instantly as he watched you curl up on the ground. "Y/N, I am so sorry. I didn-"
"We haven't even begun to discuss what to do when someone is about to throw you or slam you down. She has only trained for a few weeks, Azriel." Cassian moved to you, kneeling on one knee at your side as your body continued to try to breathe through the pain in rushed pants. "Y/n, are you okay?" Cassian's rough hands braced your neck softly as he sat you up and leaned you against his thigh. "Arms above your head, baby. You knocked her breath straight out of her." Cassian moved you again, trying to stop you from decompressing your chest and stomach, "Next time, push your body weight the opposite way he is throwing, y/n. Do not let Azriel rag doll you." Azriel scoffed at the comment, kneeling down next to you on the other side and holding your hand in his.
Cassian pulled you in closer to him with a glare. He was softly rubbing his hand up and down your spine slowly to coach you into deep breaths. "Breathe sweetheart, you're okay. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There we go, just like that." Cassian smiled brightly at you as your breathing became more regular. "Rhys and Nesta are going to kill you." He looked at Azriel with a serious expression. "Ness already is upset we are forcing her to train. She might actually steal a knife and stab you."
Azriel sighed deeply. "That would get Nesta out of her room at least." They both watched as you cracked the smallest smile before leaning into Cassian more. "I think she's done for today. That will leave a nasty bruise. I'll have one of the twins go to the room to rub salve on it."
Cassian nodded in agreement. Your eyes met the upset ones of another male as Cassian began to speak again. "I'll carry you up to your room, y/n. Az, can you clean up here? I want to talk her through what she did well and wrong. Y/n, Please don't tell Rhys about this.."
"He already knows," you whispered softly before pointing to the doorway where your sister's husband stood. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he studied the scene before him. Anger graced his face as he took in your disheveled, messy braid of dark brown hair, your red face, and your soft pants from being unable to take a full breath yet. Cassian chuckled lowly while looking between Rhys and Azriel. "Be nice, Rhys. I asked. It was-"
"I told Cassian to train you," the high lord said sternly. "Strictly for this reason. Now I get to tell Feyre you were hurt tonight when we speak."
Azriel was the first to turn as Cassian gently picked you up, supporting your knees with one of his arms. "Let's go get you a bath, princess," he whispered gently into your ear. "They're about to fight and it might get ugly. Our dear Rhysie has some pent up anger that he does not want to admit to, and Azriel is always more than happy to fight him."
You nodded, arms going around his neck so you could tuck yourself further into his chest. "Why did he want you to train me?"
"I would never throw you this early. Soft gentle movements until you have more experience, more balance, better strength. Az didn't want to baby you. Rhysand and I did. Because. Well. You are the baby." His voice was soft as he reached the room you and Azriel had begun to share since being made.
He continued after opening the door. "Azriel felt that was unnecessary. That you were capable and babying you after you begged us to ensure you never felt helpless again was unfair."
"And he won because of the bond?" Cassian nodded to the question as he set you down on the bed and Sat beside you.
"We compromised. I told him I would train you with progress updates every two weeks where he was involved. That is why he was there today. To spar you while I watched to see what I needed to fix, what we could progress on. I will be talking to him, though. You were not ready for that level of hand to hand. He needs to be more gentle with my baby sister."
Cassian's hand continued rubbing up and down your back as he held you. "Your footing was wonderful. You have made so much progress in the past couple of weeks. Feyre would be proud." He smiled down at you, then switched to a serious face, "You had a few strikes we need to work on, and we need to teach you how to get out of a few holds again. You did very well, though. I am very happy with your progress."
You smiled against his chest. "It must be the good, gentle teacher."
Cassian hummed as he placed a kiss on your head and pulled you in for another warm hug. "Or the aggressive dedicated student."
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despazito · 1 year
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I have conflicting feelings about so called "therapy talk" in animated shows nowadays.
I'm not sure if I like the term in general because i think it's dismissive of the concept as a whole, which I feel throws the baby out with the bathwater. Like to me at least the definition of therapy talk means being extremely emotionally mature, being able to successfully identify and communicate your feelings, and using empathy to do the same with others' feelings. which I think are all good qualities to have in a person, but detrimental to a fictional story if this trait is shared equally amongst the WHOLE cast and that's what bothers me about its overusage now.
People just don't have interpersonal conflict this way!! especially amongst kids or teens. Or at least it's extremely uncommon to have these types of kindcore interactions with others outside of a moderated clinical setting.
Emotional intelligence like that isn't a switch you can flick, characters may repress things or drop a facade to deliver some truths or philosophy to the protagonist but it has to dovetail in with the rest of their character. A character who showed no previous capacity for such maturity just feels unnatural to suddenly act very wise for a scene if it's played completely straight.
For instance, Patrick Star is great at playing this for comedy. His sudden rare bursts of extreme mature clarity are so opposite to the rest of his character that it loops all the way back into the comedic. But then imagine a character like Scrappy Doo busting out a lecture on externalizing his unresolved anger from past experiences without a shred of irony. Or Jesse Pinkman breaking his character of a wannabe gangster drug dealer to deliver a carefully worded clapback to walt about toxicity and gaslighting explaining the deepest mechanics of his personality. It would kind of suck, right? Which is why when Aaron Paul's character in Bojack gets a scene like that as Todd, it's very introspective but still delivered in Todd's voice because the writers know Todd and know the boundaries of what he can articulate.
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Characters can gain introspection and learn to understand themselves over the course of a narrative, but it has to feel natural and have some precedent. It's a bit annoying when all the characters resolve emotional conflict like they've taken a class in anger management before.
And i think a lot of it is the writer idealizing relationships and interactions between their characters and a weird obsession with morality in fiction now. We need to be spoonfed why this character is bad or what is currently occurring in a lecture from another character lest someone get the wrong impression from the text, in many ways it comes across as unconfident writing.
In a perfect (or dystopian to some) world everyone can communicate impeccably with everyone’s feelings in mind and people will come away with the exact reading of a text the author implied. and sure it can be good escapism if that’s what you crave. but it just doesn’t make for very interesting stories!!
Some writers will try to hide therapy talk under several layers of meta irony, but honestly those can feel even lamer to me and dare I say lazier in execution. It's quite literally telling instead of showing the audience exactly how a character feels by having them sarcastically voice their internal feelings in the format of a mindfulness diary prompt instead of feeling confident enough in your audience to pick up on those themes themselves through subtler acting cues or interactions. It's the internal conflict equivalent of loudly breaking the fourth wall to shout that motorcycle slide was from Akira, instead of having faith in the viewer to catch a reference on their own.
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This kind of self aware speaking about emotions definitely has its place, most notably in preschool programming because many of those shows are about teaching kids emotional intelligence and conflict resolution. But I am getting tired of this trope in other genres for older audiences, let things be messy and ambiguous! Your characters don't have to be perfect people! Let them have misunderstandings and make mistakes in relationships instead of speaking like licensed counselors!!
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