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#like i still have issues but i’m not bitter anymore

coralinnii · 5 months

Note

I saw your request were open and got super excited so here’s my request it’s kind of long so I hope you don’t mind

So the idea is that the beast people have mates and you can feel your partner through the bond and it’s not obvious or some kind of communication link, but you can feel that they’re there, and when you see them you know that’s your mate, like that’s who you’re meant to spend your life with. But Leona has never been able to feel the other side of the bond like he was supposed to. And that was just one more thing his brother had that he didn’t. And then all the sudden one day he can feel some thing on the other side of his bond (when the prefect is magically, transported to twisted wonderland) And when he finally see them he know that they are his mate

And congrats on 2.7

❋ We finally meet ❋

↳ Leona finally meeting his soulmate

feat: Leona

genre: hurt/comfort, open happy ending(?)

note: no pronouns used with the reader, Leona is an emotionally constipated jerk (I’m sorry), follows game-canon storyline through Book 3

I genuinely did not think this would be as sad as I thought, but Leona… he got some issues… and I have met people like him which I actually took inspiration from…so I really am sorry. I still hope you enjoy it

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Just like many things, Leona grew to give up on this fated partner drivel. The world kept screwing him over, so it’s better to not bother with trying, right?

Until now…

The fateful orientation at NRC occured. Leona awoke from his nap as he sensed a new warm sensation in his chest, as though his entire being was burning with excitement.

Leona knew it, the moment he saw you. He didn’t have to ask or second guess this primal instinct. The spark burst in his chest as the beastman watched you stumble about in this new world, his world. The beastly side within him roared within, finally meeting his fated partner.

Leona was…angry. He truly wouldn’t be happy at first. Leona was fine not having the bond after so long, but he has to accept that he does now? Not once did Leona feel the pull of a bond or even a spark of such a feeling as described by those lucky b*stards. Was he supposed to forget all about his feelings of frustration when he as a beastman couldn’t feel this so-called bond that was so natural to others.

What frustrated Leona more was that you weren’t a beastman, you weren’t even a person of this world. You probably never had to go through the bitterness as he did, seeing his brother and so many others find their fated mate so easily while he couldn’t even comprehend what that could feel like.

He knew it wasn’t in your control, but he wasn’t going to be alright with this convenient bullsh*t of a happy ending.

The lion ignored you, he wanted nothing to do with you. He fought against his very instincts because he refused to have expectations anymore. So what if you were his fated mate? It’s too much of a bother to take care of a clueless herbivore.

But alas, Leona sometimes couldn’t stop himself as he gave into his natural connection with you. Despite meddling in his schemes, he felt no hate towards you, even when he tried to. When you needed a place to stay after being kicked out from Ramshackles, he surprised even himself to let you stay in his room.

Sometimes he growls at you, but then keeps you close like a protective guard. Leona feigned indifferent to your attempts to befriend him, but just as those annoying beastmen b*stards said, he felt drawn to you as though his world became weightless with your presence.

This complicated story finally reached its crescendo when you couldn’t handle this confusing hot-and-cold game, breaking down in front of him.

“Do you hate me, Leona?”

You found Leona in his usual napping spot in the greenhouse, because of course he would be there. Sometimes, he would grumble and tell you to leave him in peace. But on rare occasions, the beastman would roll to his side as the two of you enjoy each other’s company, sometimes in silence, other rarer times bantering.

But that was the problem.

“I don’t know what to do,” you steeled your voice with all your might but the cracks in your tone exposed the raw frustration you were feeling. “Sometimes you treat me so well and I feel really safe with you, but then other times I feel like you resent my very existence!”

You felt it too. Since you came into this strange world, you’ve seen and experienced things you once thought inconceivable. It took a while but you will through your new life and you were actually having fun in this loony situation. Except, whenever you saw Leona...

“Some days, all I could think about is you.” You confessed in tears, embarrassment be damned. “I want to be around you, like I feel this pull to be by your side. I feel so happy when I’m with you, but it tears me apart whenever you act like you can’t stand me.”

To be rejected by your soulmate is akin to getting a part of your heart being crushed, that connection between the two of you is tearing at the seams and along with it, a piece of yourself. You were going insane as a part deep inside you was begging to stay with the stubborn beastman, but was all this pain really worth it?

“What can I do?” Do you let him go, or fix whatever is wrong with this relationship? You didn’t care what you had to do, you just wanted this pain to finally leave you. “Tell me, Leona. Anything”

But Leona didn’t say a word. His piercing green eyes just watched you, showing no hint of his thoughts. The only betrayal of his unreadable expression was the way his eyebrows furrow as he saw your tear-stricken face and your body shaking from pained rage.

The beastman’s body was still, before he sighed as he lost his internal fight with his primal instincts. His arm reached out to you, pulling your shaking body towards him as he forced you to lay under the shady tree, pushing your head that - to his annoyance - fit so perfectly under his chin, resting atop his shoulder.

“I’ll explain later. For now, sleep. You’re a mess” you wanted to hit him, argue whose fault it was for all this. But your body felt compelled to curl into this insufferable man’s warmth. His scent irritatingly eased your frustrations as his arm warped around you almost protectively, almost like you were something precious to him.

“You’re awful, Leona” you let out a last stab at the senior before surrendering to sleep. Leona smirked sardonically, not the least bit angered by your weak attempt at an insult, even without being overwhelmed by the feeling the sensation of satisfaction having his fated beloved finally in his arms.

“I am, huh?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #leona kingscholar #twst leona x reader #leona x reader #2.7k followers event

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theemporium · 30 days

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37. putting their head on the other’s chest🩵 with john marino! maybe they are out after a game with the team and it’s just fluffy

congrats on 10k!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

37. putting their head on the other's chest

It had been a rough season.

If you asked anyone what had gone wrong with the Devils this season, you would have received a long list in return. Between questionable line choices, goaltending issues, bad coaching and more injuries than one would expect, it was remarkable that they had as many points as they did.

And it sucked because they were a good team. Everyone knew they were a good team. They had proved it last year when they reached the playoffs. It was just shit luck that had been following them around this season that made each loss bitter and heavy.

But it also meant that every win was so much sweeter. When the team managed to grasp onto that flow, when the chemistry clicked, when they worked seamlessly like everyone expected from the young, talented team.

It felt so fucking good. It felt liberating. It felt like they were on top of the world.

“C’mon, it will be fun!”

“John—”

“Please,” his voice softened a little, but the smile on his face was still big and giddy and, truthfully, you couldn’t say no to him even if you really tried. “I want you there.”

“You should celebrate with the team,” you said, because he should. Because after the last few games being rough on the boys, they should be celebrating the win. They should celebrate the six goal win. They should be screaming it from the rooftops. “Plus, I just got off work and I don’t wanna intrude—”

“You could never,” John replied instantly, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I want you there. I’m serious. And the boys love you. And we can leave early if you’re tired.”

The last of your resolve crumbled. “If I fall asleep on you, you can’t blame me.”

His grin widened. “I never do, even when you drool.”

You gaped. “I don’t drool!”

“You do!”

But, despite the lingering exhaustion from the six day work streak you had been on, you still found yourself tucked away in the booth of a downtown bar. And it was easy at first, to get lost in the drinks and the adrenaline and the giddiness of the team celebrating their win. It was easy to get hyped off their energy, to join them in the laughter and the cheering and the bad dancing. It was so easy.

Until eventually the exhaustion caught up with you and you couldn’t fight it anymore.

You hadn’t even realised your eyes had fallen shut until you felt fingers lightly running through your hair. You had been tucked between John and Dawson, listening to Timo ramble off about some story that had most of the table in stitches when you started to lean on John more. Somewhere amongst the laughs, his arm was thrown over you and your head was lying on his chest and it was hard to fight the urge to just fall asleep there and then with John’s familiar smell overwhelming you.

“Tired?” John murmured, his lips brushing against the top of your head as you buried yourself further against his sweater-covered chest.

You shook your head. “M’fine.”

John tried to hide his smile. “C’mon, let’s get you back home.”

“M’comfy here,” you muttered, your voice hinting on a whine as his arm tightened around you.

“Promise you’ll be even comfier in your bed,” he said, pausing for a few moments as he watched your hand lightly fist his sweater like you were worried he would pull away. “Or my bed, if you wanna stay over.”

“You do have a comfy bed,” you murmured, words a little slurred as you spoke.

He snorted. “That’s the only reason?”

You lifted your head, slowly blinking your eyes open as you sleepily smiled at him. “Yup.”

John shook his head in amusement. “Ouch. Harsh. Gonna hog the duvet now.”

You looked far too smug. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed with a sigh before he began to slide out of the booth, pulling you along with him. He decided to ignore the pointed and teasing looks his teammates were giving him, ignore the fact the boys would chirp him at practice.

And he decided he would ignore the warm feeling bubbling inside him, instead basking in the feeling of you tucked into his side and the way you clung onto him like maybe—just maybe—you shared the desire for something more than friendship too.

#cece's cocktail celebration #john marino #nhl #new jersey devils #john marino x reader #john marino x you #john marino x y/n #john marino fic #john marino one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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sleepysnk · 6 months

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there’s some things i really wanted to talk about especially regarding my account and tumblr as a whole, so i decided to finally make this post as a way to sort of vent out my feelings on some things.

i’m not gonna lie, tumblr has become a very different place from what it was. i started creating content 3 years ago and it’s gone through so many changes (much expected). however, i don’t think tumblr has really changed for the better, especially when it comes to content creators. this used to be a really safe space for me to come on and create works for fandoms that i enjoyed, but recently, that safe space hasn’t felt, well, safe anymore. there is constant discourse everywhere on this platform and i’ve found that many people here are just extremely bitter? it’s almost like it’s become a mean girl center and it makes it difficult to interact with others.

obviously, this doesn’t go for everyone. i’m not trying to come at people specifically or cause issues, but i have seen my fair share of problems with people on here and some of it is just completely ridiculous.

next, i’d like to discuss the elephant in the room and that’s the lack of interaction/support to writers. it is just mind blowing to me that we as creators have to BEG our followers to reblog or even send us asks. obviously, some people are new to tumblr and don’t understand it’s algorithm, but there are people on here who just simply chose not to reblog for some reason?? it’s not only discouraging, but it puts less confidence in writers and then we aren’t motivated to create content. i’ve said this before, but there is no reason why a 2k note fic should have only 100 or so reblogs. likes mean nothing on this platform. it’s not Twitter. i genuinely have gotten so tired of repeating myself that i don’t even say it anymore because i know it won’t be acknowledged.

i understand people have lives, i do too, but it isn’t hard to send an ask to a writer about literally anything. i think the last time i had an anon ask was weeks ago and i genuinely get disappointed when i ask for interactions just to receive nothing? no one is obligated to speak with me or send me asks by any means, but a little “hey! how are you?” goes a long way. i probably sound ridiculous, but it’s just how i feel about the matter.

another thing that bothers me is when a writer doesn’t write smut or suggestive content, they hardly get any interaction. i’ve seen it myself before and i’m not sure why people just ignore greatly written fics?? i understand that smut is the main appeal. trust me, i 100% get it, but fluff writers hardly get any attention and some of the best fics i’ve read weren’t even smut related. i’m not saying every person here has to read fluff or angst fics by any means, but it makes me sad that people write these fics to hardly get any interaction because it isn’t smut content. the least y’all can do is reblog it.

to discuss my account, i honestly don’t really feel the most happy here. i don’t have as much motivation as i used to and i have contemplated removing my account, but i have some great fics i’d rather not have be deleted. i might start a new account for a fresh start, but i’m still not 100% on it.

and if you read this till the end, thank you! i probably sound like a whiny baby but i just wanted to express some of my feelings because it’s been weighing on me a lot recently.

#summer rants #uhhh #yeah!#lowkey needed to speak on this #also emmie thank u for being motivation for this #!!!!

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ax-killjoy · 1 year

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☆ needed love

synopsis ! 𖦹 : you and jake talk about your life before the sully’s.

note ! 𖦹 : this is like- a vent kinda ???

avatar ! reader x Sully Family

warnings ! : nightmares ! mentions of past parental issues. lemme know if there’s more i need to add !!

For a moment, you thought you were back on Earth. You woke up from a nightmare, beads of sweat falling down your forehead as you gasp for air. Your eyes are frantic, it’s so dark in marui that your brain was creating images to compensate, figures of your parents stand before you in the dark. Your shivering. The warmth of the Sully Sleep pile was becoming unbearable. You let out a soft whimper, your ears flatten to the side of your head as you untangle yourself. You quickly stand up, walking out of the marui as quietly as you could. Sitting on the dock, trying to take deep breaths, trying to contain your composure.

You focus on the nature before you, as you calm down you thank Eywa for her beauty. You let yourself bask in the nature, the feeling of the ocean mist against your skin. The sounds of the waves crashing against the edges of the village, the soft snores of the ilu.

Your heart beat slows, and you finally take in surroundings again. Reminding yourself that you’re not on Earth, but an entirely different planet. A planet that felt more like home than the one you were born in, in a body that felt more like you than your original. With a family that felt more like a family than the ones that brought you life. You sigh, no matter how much you know that this is your life now. A better one, but you can’t help but remember your past, and the nightmares only encouraged it.

A grunt, someone clearing their throat snaps you back to reality. You turn your head to see Jake, leaning against the entrance of the Marui. “What’s got you up so late, little star ?” he asks softly, walking up to sit next to you. The nickname, Little Star. it made you feel worse. “Nothing !…Nothing. It’s just, having dreams of Earth is all.” You mutter, and Jake looks at you. Brows raised. “Do you…miss Earth ?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Oh not at all ! it’s just…i don’t know. They’re not really dreams, more like nightmares.” You say, and before Jake could speak, you start to sputter. “And it’s so funny cause-“ you let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve been to war, i’ve scouted for enemies with Lo’ak and Neteyam. And yet, I still have nightmares of Earth. Where the only war i’ve faught was against my parents.” you say. Jake eyes are glossy, filled to the brim with concern.

“Oh (Y/N).” He says, his hand falls onto your shoulder, his thumb rubs against your skin to give you some comfort. But it brings tears, and you try to laugh it off. But the laugh sounds broken and tired. “And it sucks, because out there I know that my parents aren’t worried about me. Aren’t writing to me about my stay here, aren’t wondering if i’m eating good or drinking enough water. If i’m alive even.” You cry, wiping your tears.

“They didn’t think that way when I was on Earth, so I doubt they’re sitting in their home. Shaking and praying to whatever god is on Earth if i’m safe.” You say, staring into the sea. Avoiding Jake’s gaze as much as you can.

“Sometimes I stare at you and Neytiri and wonder if my parents were like that, if they ever felt love for me the way you love your children.” You muttered, and Jake pushes you against his chest silently.

“I remember wondering if the way they treated me was their form of love. Maybe they were just tough on me, my parents always used to say i was born soft.” You say, your voice meek and vulnerable.

“Oh Little star, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. We’re your family, you’re a Sully. Just like Kiri, Just like Neteyam and Lo’ak, just like little Tuk.” He says and you laugh. But it’s still filled with sadness, and Jake knows that if you weren’t crying you would being saying a million other things. Your head filled with a million thoughts, a million unspoken words for your past parents, that were more than a million miles away.

“But that’s the thing Jake !” You sob, tears fall onto his chest, and he cradles you. Rocking you back forth, hugging you tighter. Letting you sob into him, holding onto his arms as support.

You look at him, eyes broken. Your mouth wobbly as you try to speak.

“Why did it take going to a different planet, to have a different body to finally find a family that loves me ?”

#sully family x reader #sully family #jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water x reader #avatar angst #PLZ READ TW #avatar x reader #neteyam sully #avatar fanfiction #lo’ak sully #neytiri #Kiri Sully #avatar headcanons #jake sully angst

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tismrot · 5 months

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ARE YOU A CROWLEY? Hello, how are ya? Let’s be friends.

I, too, started out as a loud, emotional child who was into ✨SPACE✨. I’d ask questions wherever I went - some adults found it endearing that a four-year-old asked the types of why’s they didn’t have answers for, others asked me to shut up, be quiet. I realize as an adult I asked a lot of uncomfortable questions, having no idea i shouldn’t.

Home life was turbulent. My dad had the same issues as me, probably, but his generation never talks about anything, and he became an unpredictable, emotionally distant and sometimes explosive presence. The words he used to call me still hurt, way more so than any bruise he left. Mom smoked cigarettes in the kitchen, reading difficult books instead of daring to look at the difficult lives we all had. It was the 90s, after all. Nobody ever did anything about problems.

I should have been sent to some sort of screening, of course. But I was a girl, and hyperlexic. Diagnoses were for boys who couldn’t spell their own names, who threw chairs at teachers and brought knives to school.

My anger issues and social naivety, as well as unconventional intensity of interests, alienated me from my peers. I usually played alone, even though I was extremely extroverted. I was bullied relentlessly until I moved away for high school. There, I was only shut out, I didn’t have anyone yell things after me anymore. It was a freedom.

All my friends, from early childhood until now, have been the other misfit freaks. Some of us were extremely damaged, but all of us had baggage. I’m only friends with a few of them still, we all had dramatic lives and quite many of them are now dead, in self-imposed isolation or have managed to turn their lives completely around (which means they cut out me). Self-imposed isolation became my way of dealing with my past, and I’ve cut out a lot of people. I don’t judge anyone for deciding I wasn’t the friend they needed. I’ve done dumb things, I’ve made bad choices.

I was extremely extroverted, happy (despite the anger), motivated and creative. After family, school and life happened, I became a socially paranoid, bitter, arrogant mess. I said I hated people - the truth was that I suspected they all hated me. I self-medicated with (almost) everything I could get my hands on (but I preferred stimulants), until I got stimulant prescription medications - I’ve stopped doing everything else and life is very predictable. I’m healthy and reliable, I can talk about weather with strangers on bus stops, I don’t always say the weirdest thing one could say in any given situation (and realize only two days later). I work out to stabilize my hEDS (the connective tissue disorder that made me walk funny, sit funny, move in strange ways, made everything hurt all the time), I read up on traumatic family dynamics.

Would be boring if I didn’t still vividly remember where I’ve been before.

So. Seeing Crowley on screen actually DID something to me. I know, fatal brainrot, but I see myself in him. Whatever he does in the show, I get it. I see parallels to my personality, my neurodivergencies and my trauma. It feels affirming and I feel represented in a way I didn’t know I needed. I mean, it’s almost uncanny/silly - I, too, wear only black, have a thing for snake themed jewelry (for years, not related to Good Omens at all) and I almost always wear sunglasses (light sensitivity). It’s dumb, almost, but it’s true. I dressed up as him recently and only had to buy the lenses - all the rest, including the sleeveless turtleneck body, was already in my closet.

(Oh, and ✨Flex Time✨, kids absolutely dig me. They climb on me and tell me beautiful and horrendous things from their lives without apprehension, and adults often don’t like that. I talk to them like I’m a kid myself, I don’t try to be above them. I work with kids now, and the other adults always send me the stink eye, but the kids apparently need to talk and I hope I’m making a positive impact in their lives.)

And the best part? Via Tumblr I’ve learned that my experience isn’t unique. So many of us see ourselves in Crowley, for these exact reasons. I love that about us!

So. Are you a Crowley? Let me know. Add me. Let’s be a group of the all of us.

(GIF: Accurate depiction of me watching Crowley In The Beginning, him not understanding how questions could be dangerous - then remembering how many teachers absolutely hated my precocious, arrogant, eight-year-old ass for always raising my hand to ask something that would reveal how little the teacher actually knew, and I had no idea that was what was happening until I tried to be a teacher myself and actually ENJOYED having kids ask me weird questions).

#crowley #good omens fandom #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens 2 #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable spouses #innefable husbands #ineffable divorce #crowley edits #female crowley #crowley brainrot #good omens brainrot #audhd problems #actually audhd #aj crowley #crowley good omens #anthony j crowley

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quanticq · 7 months

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Hey Q! Sorry for bothering you, but for some reason I can no longer find any of your tik tok accounts 😭 Did they get deleted or something?

Hi this is Q! I’m coming out of the woodwork to address this, since I did went radio silent out of the blue so it’s not a bother at all

The short answer is Yes, I deleted my tiktok

Yes delete not deactivate, I’m not coming back to That app or IG or Twt, I deleted my socials except here and YouTube, I honestly felt so overwhelmed with everything, I realized I’m not even posting for myself anymore there. A lots of people crossed my boundaries time and time again I felt so helpless, bitter with myself. I guess I was just overwhelmed with the attention I got; both positive and negatives ones.

Im done and I want to start over so that’s why I’m here and on YouTube, I already posted some of these on my community tab on YT but here’s what I have in mind for the future of the content I want to create: more detail under the cut, and also;

CW: very brief mention of spiraling, harm inflict oneself or others, paranoia, etc

•Long-form content: my attention span is a bit messed up from consuming and making short-form content to the point where I can’t focus in university. I want to create something meaningful. It’s not that my previous content was not meaningful, no. I had fun and no time is wasted when I have fun, it was warm… but as I mentioned earlier, I just felt this lingering bitterness the longer I stayed making those short-form content. It really felt like I was on the verge of losing it. Especially with how the bigger following I have the less people think of me as a person than just another content creator you see on the internet,

I want to create long-form content, I’m so tired of forcing myself to generate 15 second content. On tiktok it just feels like I’m just creating and not really connecting. I want to try something new, maybe create an open space for meaningful discussion in the comments. I don’t think I can stand another copy-paste tiktok comment anymore. You know what I meant if you’re frequent on that app.

•Art Content with Commentary: and don’t worry this won’t be those petty artist drama issue, but I will still cover anything serious

it could be love letters or video essays ranging from fan fictions, fandom culture, the art scene and so much more. I may even share a bit of my personal life, this will be self indulgent after all! I want to make it fun for myself and as well to those who comes across my channel. I really REALLY want to create a genuine following.

On tiktok it’s so easy to gain following but not so easy to retain them, it’s mostly because of the algorithm and the FYP feature there.

On Tiktok most content that would get featured as an artist there would be creative work has to be either; more than exceptional which is pressuring enough already to consistent posters, straight up suggestive content shown to minors (tiktok doesn’t really have a blocked keywords feature but it’s so disheartening to see these creators intentionally not using the sensitive warning since it could limit their reach significantly) oh yes we can’t forget the negativity surrounding beginner artists or “art lore”

All of this cesspool of negativity, it’s a whole can of worms but it will be one of my prominent topics that I wish to discuss in my future art commentaries. I hope you guys are looking forward to those! I might bring in a few people or so to talk about it with me

and finally;

•Streaming: I used to do a lot of streams during the weekends on the clock app and it was super fun! I want to bring that back but that would have to wait since I’m unfamiliar with some features on YouTube, and I’m aware that YT does not have a discoverable feature for stream but that’s alright, I want to start something small first.

In short; I’ll figure it out! just need some baby steps before I start streaming again.

I apologize for deleting everything out of the blue, if I’m gonna be honest it was partially planned because I’ve been thinking about deleting my tiktok, twitter and Instagram for a while now but how it happened? In my breakdown I realized that I don’t want anyone to see me spiral, especially now that I realized how young my audience are, I’m not sure how that happened but I guess posting fandom contents does attract the young ones somehow inevitably, even though my content is nowhere near as suggestive, but I do talk about serious topics from time to time… but I digress, its not fair for them to deal with me if they see me spiral publicly,

it is especially not fair to them to console me. When I was younger than 14, I’ve been in a position where I have to talk down someone who was older, maybe 4-5 years older than me, from harming themselves or anyone, it was traumatizing and unpleasant. I don’t wish for anyone to go through that, it’s very painful.

It’s been… hard for me to ground myself. Ive been seeing things through a kaleidoscope of emotions; I was trying to focus on everything but it’s just too overwhelming so eventually I cracked. But please don’t worry I’ve been doing better now, after some time away from my online persona, and of course spending time with my beloved girlfriend, I see things much more clearly now.

Thank you to anyone who read this and much so appreciate those who understand where I’m coming from

Also now that I think of it can my stuff be considered as lost media now? Amazing! But please don’t be sad the fun I had was genuine!

Thank you again to those who genuinely enjoyed my content on tiktok but it’s time for me to try my hand at something new, I will still be dwelling in my creative headspace just.. away from public for now,

if you’re looking forward for my future post, make sure to check out my YouTube! I still have a lot I need to cook hehe, this is one of the few!

More post soon, Bye bye! -Q

#vent #mental health #mentions of unhealthy habits #I’m not sure how to tag these but I’ll try my best!#social media #q myers #tiktok #burnt out #creative fatigue #sorry for the rant #rant #content creator #art community

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m1ckeyb3rry · 3 months

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Pomegranate Ink: XXXII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: The final confrontation against Sukuna.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.2k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: man idek at this point…call it sibling bonding or wtvr

“You’re sure you have to do this?” you said, holding onto the end of Gojo’s shirt and walking alongside him, following him to the door. He had already said farewell to the others; you were the only one left, the only one who refused to let go. It was typically like that, though — you were closer to him than the others were by virtue of knowing him throughout your childhood, even before coming to the school.

“The only other option is to allow Sukuna to keep Megumi,” Gojo said. “And to terrorize society at his leisure. We both know that that’s not something we can live with. I do have to do this, whether or not you want me to.”

“Speaking of which, do you think Megumi can still be saved?” you said. “Or is it too late? Must we let go of him already?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I will…I will try my best to bring him back, but in the process of defeating Sukuna, I might have to harm him a bit, so I can’t guarantee it. It’s an impossible position we’re in, since Sukuna and Megumi are one and the same, but we want to save one as much as we want to kill the other.”

“That’s what I’m here for, though,” you said grimly. “You can beat him up as much as you need to. I’ll heal him up and he’ll be back to his normal self with no issues. By this time next week, he’ll be sighing all passive-aggressively all over the place, and it’ll be like he never left.”

“It makes me feel better to know that’s the case,” he said. “Relying on you leaves less of a bitter taste in my mouth than relying on others. And while we’re on the subject, you have what I gave you yesterday, right?”

“Yes, of course, but like you said, I don’t think they’ll come in much handy for me anymore,” you said. He shrugged.

“You never know. Maybe you’ll decide you want them, for some reason,” he said. “Just keep them safe. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how precious they are.”

“I already promised I would! Besides, even if they weren’t like that, I would’ve taken care of them all the same. Anything from you is precious to me,” you said. He mimed gagging.

“That was horribly cheesy, by the way,” he said, ruffling your hair as he often did when his hands were free and his mind was busy but he wanted to show his affection for you in some way. “But I appreciate the sentiment, I guess.”

“I know you feel the same, you dumb egret, so there’s no need for the tough act,” you said.

“Egret? Calling me that is a little far out of the realm of plausibility,” he said. “I don’t look anything like one.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I think it’s perfectly apt as a description,” you said. He considered this before shrugging.

“We can discuss the semantics later. For now, come here,” he said, opening his arms. You embraced him in the way you always did, and it felt the way it always did, too, warm and comfortable and solid despite how cold his extremities were and how lean his body was.

“You never used to hug me so much,” you said, trying to pretend like nothing was wrong or happening, that this was just an ordinary farewell, as if you were only going back home for the weekend or something. “This is a recent development. What gives?”

“Blame it on old age,” he said.

“You aren’t even thirty yet,” you said. “That’s hardly considered ‘old age’ in any sense of the concept.”

“It’s older than you are,” he shot back. “But fine. For luck, then?”

“For luck,” you agreed. “I’ll see you later, Gojo.”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, and then you were alone in the doorway, gazing at the empty space where he had once been and wishing for only the briefest moment that he was not so selfless, that he had instead chosen to abandon the world and everyone to stay with you and be your teacher forever.

Everyone was waiting for you back in the room where Mei Mei had connected her crow vision technique to a bunch of TVs, letting you all watch the confrontation between Gojo and Sukuna in real-time and adjust your responses accordingly. After all, there were so many variables at play that without that, it would be impossible for anyone to know what to do next. It was the whole reason that Gojo had called her in the first place — well, that, and because of her little brother Ui Ui, who was on the whole even more useful than she was.

You made a beeline for the couch where Yuta and Maki were, settling in between them, surprising just about no one. Wrapping your arms around Yuta’s bicep, you lay your cheek against it, knocking your knees against his as you sat, for he would serve as your support now more than ever.

“He’s gone,” you said when it became obvious everyone was waiting for you to speak. “Left for Shinjuku. They should get started soon.”

“I wish he would’ve let us come help him,” Hakari said. “Don’t interrupt me, Y/N! I know that he works better alone, so we would actually drag him down, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”

“Actually, I was just going to say that it’s a pleasant surprise to see you concerned about someone other than yourself,” you said. “I’m really proud, Hakari. It seems like you’ve grown a lot in the past month.”

“Oh, shut up,” he said. You rolled your eyes but found you were too stressed to actually engage in any meaningful arguments with him. Anyways, it was as you always said: arguing with Hakari only made a person dumber, and now was not the time for that sort of thing.

“There he is,” Maki said, pointing at the screens where Gojo could now be seen, as cocky as ever, made more arrogant by the way he was towering over Sukuna, who was after all in the body of a first year student.

“Wow,” Hakari said. “Fushiguro is such a little shrimp! That boy needs a growth spurt immediately.”

Wordlessly, Yuta handed you a pillow, already knowing what you wanted to do. Accepting it gratefully, you chucked it at Hakari, smiling slightly when it smacked into his stomach, prompting a groan from him but then a blissful silence afterwards. Kirara did briefly glare at you, the closest thing to retaliation you got, but since you didn’t care much about that, it was a positive outcome overall.

“He’s not that short,” Itadori defended, though considering he was shorter than Megumi, there was definitely some bias coloring his words. “Besides, anyone would look tiny next to Gojo, except for maybe Todo.”

“That’s true,” Hakari allowed. “Yeah, I’ll apologize to Fushiguro next time we meet. Plus, all of us are like that in our first years. The rest of his family members that I’ve seen are pretty tall, so I’m sure he’ll be like that once he grows up.”

After that, you all mostly were silent, only occasionally remarking on events as they happened. Sukuna and Gojo moved at a pace almost too fast to comprehend, and it seemed their minds worked at that kind of speed, as well. The things they were doing were unfathomable to sorcerers like the rest of you, every new move drawing gasps from everyone watching, mostly due to the sheer gall they required and the way they were completely redefining sorcery as you knew it. There was no doubt in any of your minds: this was truly a clash of the two strongest sorcerers in all of history, and despite Gojo’s confidence, there was no certain victor. It could happen in any way. The scales could tip in either’s favor at any moment, and it was likely that you wouldn’t even realize until the balance was so unequal that nothing could be done to restore it.

“So that’s Mahoraga,” Kusakabe said at one point. It had definitely come as a surprise that the generally self-interested teacher had decided to stay and fight alongside the others instead of running like Noritoshi and Elakshi had, but for some reason, even though he wasn’t particularly strong, his presence comforted you. Like Ieri and Gojo, he had once been an authority figure in your life, someone who could be counted upon to know the answers to your questions, so now that the scenario was so confusing, having him there made it feel like there was a chance that order could at some point be restored. Furthermore, due to his expertise and experience as a teacher, he was able to explain what was happening to everyone in a way that you could understand, which was invaluable.

According to Kusakabe, Mahoraga was the pinnacle of the Ten Shadows technique that was engraved on Megumi’s body. It was a massive, hulking being that was an amalgamation between man and snake, with its body vaguely humanoid but its head distinctly serpentine. It was inescapably eerie and uncanny, and you shuddered, pressing even closer to Yuta at the sight of it. He did not react, eyes trained on the screens, tracking every slight movement that Gojo and Sukuna made even before they made them.

“He can do it, can’t he?” Itadori said, voice small. “He can defeat Sukuna before Mahoraga adapts, right?”

Nobody responded, because of course none of you knew what the outcome would be. In such a close match, even a breath taken at the wrong time could be fatal for either party, so there was no way of knowing who would come out on top. Especially now that Mahoraga had been added into the mix, with his potential to cut through even the Limitless via adaptation…who could be sure? Who could still say with full confidence that Gojo would win, besides Gojo himself? Because you knew he would, could hear his haughty voice in your mind even now: I will win.

“Has he forgotten about Fushiguro?” Hana said. She was right: you had never seen Megumi’s body in a worse condition, but Gojo seemed to pay it no mind, adding to the cuts and bruises blooming on the boy’s fair skin at will, even taunting him as he went along, though naturally it was not Megumi he was insulting but Sukuna himself, Sukuna and his reliance on Megumi’s technique and the shikigami he could summon. What kind of King of Curses can’t even go against his enemy without the help of a little boy? Come on, give me a break!

“It’s fine,” Kashimo said. “I hope he has — it’s more interesting that way. He should’ve forgotten him from the start!”

“No way!” Itadori said. “You don’t even know him, so you can just be quiet, okay? Seriously! Who even invited you here?”

“Of course, he’s doing his best to save Megumi, but he can’t afford to hold back, not when Sukuna won’t do the same,” you said as Kashimo shrugged, obviously unbothered by Itadori’s words. “We’ll lose both of them if he does that. At this point, he has to rely on instinct, so he can’t give any consideration to Megumi anymore, not until it’s safe enough. Faltering is as good as surrendering, so he just can’t.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Itadori said. “It makes sense, but it feels unfair. Fushiguro didn’t do anything! He doesn’t deserve this. It should be my body out there. It would be alright if I was the one that Gojo had to kill, but why him?”

“Have a little more trust in Gojo,” Yuta said evenly. “He always has a plan. It’ll be alright. Megumi’s important to him, so he wouldn’t leave things up to fate or chance. If he didn’t think that he could save him, then he would’ve said something; conversely, since he’s said he’ll do his best, he honestly will. You know he’s like that.”

As the only remaining special grade sorcerer — alongside Gojo, of course — Yuta’s words carried a certain weight to them, and indeed as soon as he spoke, there was a collective release of the tension gathered in the room. He was as right as always; Gojo wouldn’t just charge into things blindly. He was much too calculated to just disregard something so important in the heat of the moment like that, and especially not when Megumi’s life was up in the air. Megumi, who was probably the only other person he cared for as much as he did you. You were worrying because you could only see the results of the clash, not the thought process behind every move, but when had any of you ever truly been able to follow Gojo’s thought process in the first place?

At one point, when it looked like Gojo might lose, Yuta stood up. Takaba, a comedian-turned-sorcerer that had come with Itadori and allied himself with everyone else for some reason, did the same, and both of them headed towards the door. Nobody else took notice, completely fascinated by the unlikely comeback Gojo was in the process of making, but because you had been all but laying atop Yuta, you were immediately alerted to his departure.

“Where are you going?” you said, following after him, a suspicion growing in you that he was leaving to join the fight against Sukuna. Takaba glanced between the two of you before gulping and then waving, mouthing something at Yuta and then ducking out. You cocked your head at him before deciding that he was a comedian and therefore must be prone to doing such strange things.

“It’s something that I discussed with Gojo,” Yuta said. “Just last night. While everyone is focused on him and Sukuna, I’m going to take on Kenjaku. It’s the perfect moment to strike; no one will see it coming, especially not Kenjaku himself. Everyone thinks I’m the next in line if Gojo should fall, but in truth, I’ll be there, ready to kill that blight.”

“By yourself?” you said, numbness washing over you as your mind worked through what he was saying. He was going to go fight Kenjaku. It was even worse than going to help Gojo against Sukuna, because at least then, he’d have aid. But this — this was an endeavor he was undertaking all alone. He was going somewhere where no one could help him. Not Gojo. Not Maki. Not you. Nobody would be there for him.

“Takaba is going to be with me, so I won’t be alone,” he said, though this didn’t reassure you much. Takaba, a comparatively untrained sorcerer, would likely just serve as a distraction to cloak Yuta’s arrival, so the onus was still on Yuta’s shoulders. He was the one who would have to actually do it, which meant that he essentially was going against Kenjaku on his own.

“You can’t,” you said. “Yuta, you can’t. He beat Yuki Tsukumo, who was a special grade sorcerer! Listen to me this time and leave it. Don’t go. Let someone else take care of it.”

“Who but me could go?” he said. “It’s just as you said. He beat Yuki Tsukumo, which means no one else even stands a chance. I’m the only one left who can capitalize on this moment, the only remaining special grade sorcerer — bar the obviously preoccupied Gojo — and I cannot let this opportunity go. Kenjaku is as big of a thorn in our sides as Sukuna is, and we mustn’t let him live. He’s the reason all of this has happened, Y/N. Do you think I could just sit here and wait while he continues to exist?”

“Hakari can go,” you said desperately. “Or Itadori, or Choso. Anyone else can, but just not you. I don’t want it to be you. I can’t handle it if it’s you.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Takaba and I have a plan, just like Gojo does. Even when things seem like they’re going badly, please remember this: we know what we’re doing. It may look like we’re struggling, but don’t just believe what you see. We have it all figured out.”

He was putting on a brave face for you. He didn’t have things ‘figured out’ any more than Gojo did; both of them were going into things blindly, facing off against opponents shrouded in mystery and unpredictability — they were mere men, battling preternatural, ancient monsters that had never tasted defeat. But for you, Yuta was pretending to have courage. You wondered where that frightened, deer-eyed boy you had met hiding under a desk in that high school had gone? The one who had ducked behind you at every loud noise? When had it become that he was the valiant one and you were the coward?

You couldn’t send him to his own death like this, but you also knew you could not stop him. He would go. You would stay. That was what your fates would be. His place was the battlefield, as yours was the hospital ward. That was why you could not beg him any longer — for you to ask him not to fight was like him asking you not to heal. It was what he was born to do, which meant that even if his subjugation was all but assured, he would still raise his sword, would still hold it with the very pride that a victor would, so that he might die in the same way he lived: as a jujutsu sorcerer.

“What will I do?” you said. “When you are gone, what will I do?”

“Wait for me,” he said. “Until I come back, you will wait for me. That’s what you’ll do.”

Unlike him, you couldn’t be considered strong, not anymore. You couldn’t maintain your composure, so it was with a choked cry that you flew at him, holding onto him as securely as you could, trying to memorize what he felt like, what it meant to embrace him, the way his body fit against yours, the way his heart beat against your chest, the exact smell of the soap he used to shower and wash his clothes.

“How am I supposed to do that?” you said. “How am I supposed to wait for you all alone?”

“You can do it,” he said. “You’re the girl I — you’re my Y/N. You can do it.”

“Please say it, Yuta,” you said. “Before you go, please tell me that you love me.”

Those words which he had never spoken, could never speak into existence. If he was going to challenge Kenjaku, then you wanted to hear them. If he might never come back again, then you wanted him to say them aloud. If there was no more hope for you two, then what did it matter if he cursed you with his love? You would accept such a curse gladly, if that was the only bargain.

“Y/N,” he said, and you knew before he said it what his answer would be.

“Just one time,” you pleaded. “You never have to again, but just once, please tell me.”

He was silent, only clinging to you tighter, too reluctant to let go immediately. But even when he tried to pull away, you refused to let him, knowing that once he left, he likely would not come back. Your dearest Yuta, your most beloved Yuta, your kind, gentle boy…how could he stand against a sorcerer like Kenjaku and win? Why was this pointless death the most he’d ever amount to? What kind of a person was he, that it didn’t even mean anything to him, that he marched forwards in spite of it?

Well, maybe it was because of this: he had, since his youth, been followed by that very death. Rika, the Queen of Curses, her darkness had been wrapped around him since the day she had become a vengeful spirit, and so death was the one thing which had never frightened him, not when the two were so intimately acquainted that it was as if they were old friends.

Maki did not question the fact that you were alone, that Yuta had vanished, that you were obviously weeping as you sat next to her. The others gave you looks containing various degrees of sympathy, but they, too, did not say anything. You were not their main concern at the moment, and neither was Yuta. It was Gojo who you were all thinking about, all focused on, because for the first time in the fight, he had the upper hand. For the first time, one thing was obvious: he was going to win. The scales had been disbalanced in his favor. He had exorcised Mahoraga and whatever other shikigami Sukuna had summoned, so it was down to the two of them, and while Gojo was hale, Sukuna was obviously tired. It wasn’t up in the air anymore — he was really going to do it.

Her reflexes were faster. She detected patterns quicker. She was just more skeptical than the rest of you. You weren’t sure which was truly the explanation, but it remained that Maki saw it happen before anyone else did. Sukuna smirked, if a mere twitch of his lips could be considered as such, and then Maki’s hand was slapping over your eyes and the world was dark and then someone was shouting. Itadori. It was Itadori, but why was he shouting? Hadn’t Gojo won? What reason did he have, then, to shout like that?

“Don’t open your eyes,” Maki instructed you. “Y/N, whatever you do, don’t open them.”

She knew better than you. You should’ve listened, but you did not. As soon as she removed her hand, you blinked your eyes open, trying to regain your bearings, and then you looked at the screen. After that, it was you screaming, not Itadori, trying to shut your eyes and pretend like you hadn’t seen it, pretend like it had just been a bad dream or intrusive thought or something. But even in your worst nightmares, your mind had never conjured up an image like that, which meant that you must’ve seen it, that it must’ve been real. It was real. It was real. It was real.

The scene was burnt into your mind: Gojo, his body cleaved into two, his upper half bloody on the ground but his legs still upright, so fast had it all been. As you had watched, they had collapsed beside his severed torso, and the sight was so gory that you would’ve retched if you had eaten anything earlier. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

But you were the girl who had brought someone back to life. This was not like Tullia, who had been beyond the point of saving once Sukuna got to her. You had to snap out of it; there was still a chance, after all. If you could get a hold of yourself, then there was still a chance. Reaching out, you grabbed Maki’s hand, squeezing it, clutching the only thing you surely had left in this world. She squeezed back.

“Someone, bring me his body,” you said, your voice shaky but determined. “As soon as possible. I can bring him back.”

“Hold on,” Hakari said, surprisingly softly given his usually brash attitude. “He’s cut in half, Y/N. You can’t possibly believe you can heal that.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I can do it. This is why I gave up fighting: so that I can heal. I’ve done it before, so I will do it again. I will bring Gojo back to life.”

Thanks to Mei Mei’s little brother’s teleportation technique, Kirara was able to quickly retrieve Gojo’s body, setting the two halves on a gurney in front of you and then stepping back so that you could get to work, arranging the pieces so that they fit together once more. Sukuna’s technique was so perfect and precise that it appeared as if they had never been split in the first place, no overlaps or gaps between the jagged edges of his flesh.

He looked like he was sleeping. If your hands weren’t sticky with his blood, if you didn’t know that he would never be this still even when asleep, then you would’ve really believed that he was just resting. But your fingers were red and Gojo was incapable of serenity, so taking a deep breath, you reached far within yourself, drawing upon every single hurt you had ever felt, every injury inflicted upon you, every harsh word and lost friend. You reached for all of it and prayed it would be enough.

“Composition,” you said, waiting for the debilitating pain to hit you, the pain of death unto life, the pain you would gladly accept if it meant saving Gojo. But there was nothing. “Composition.” Nothing. “Composition.”

Nothing. There was nothing.

“Composition.”

Nothing.

Why was his heart not beating? Why was it not working? Why could you not save him? Why couldn’t you bring him back? You were capable of it. Why weren’t his skin and bones knitting together? Why did his organs not heave back into function?

“Gojo,” you said. “Gojo. Wake up now. It’s not funny anymore. Composition.”

You weren’t healing anything, but blood was pouring from your nose, your body protesting the constant activation and subsequent cancellation of your Reverse Cursed Technique. The droplets mixed with your tears, but you ignored both, because to acknowledge them meant acknowledging something else.

“Hey,” Maki said, tugging on your hand. “Come on.”

“No,” you said. “No. No. Composition.”

You were sobbing as you continued to initiate the Reverse Cursed Technique, uncaring of the fact that everyone was watching you, uncaring of the fact that your failure was on display for them all to see, uncaring of the fact that you were acting like a small child. Composition. Composition. Composition. That was the only thing on your mind.

“It’s time to give up,” Maki said. “Y/N. You can stop now. He’s really gone. Even you can’t bring him back.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. All you could do was wail, grasping onto his shirt, his shoulders, whatever you could reach as Maki tried to pull you away, gagging as you bawled, the acrid smell of blood and sweat coating your nostrils and tongue as you threw yourself over his corpse. Your nature was like that, you realized. It was the same reason you had followed him to the door: you were not a girl who knew what it meant to let go.

“Why?” you gasped out as Maki physically lifted you and dragged you off of him, his sleeves tearing off as she yanked you away without care for how obstinately you were holding onto the scraps of him you could reach. “Why? I love him, too, so why can’t I bring him back? Let me go, Maki! I can still save him!”

“Y/N.” It was Ieri who was speaking now, her soft voice as sorrowful as it was severe. “You can’t. Some people are beyond saving.”

You had chosen to heal so that you could save people, but in the end, you had saved no one. Yuta was off fighting against Kenjaku, and who knew if he would survive that? Gojo was dead. Megumi was gone. You had never done anything that mattered. In the end, Composition, just like the L/Ns, had failed you. Some people are beyond saving. But that wasn’t supposed to matter to you. You were supposed to be able to save them, anyways.

“Ui Ui,” you said, the instant Maki put you down and you were standing on your own two feet, though she conspicuously did not remove her hands from your shoulders. Your grief had condensed into a hollow pit in your stomach, one that you shoved aside for the moment, knowing you could not think about it now. Feeling around in your pocket for Gojo’s final gift to you, you straightened your shoulders and felt a sort of calm wash over you when you found it, fingers curling around the cool wood. “I need you to take me to Sukuna.”

“What do you think?” Gojo said, presenting you with a small box containing a set of red needles. You hesitantly accepted them, wondering what use he thought you would have for them. “I harassed the L/Ns into imbuing them with Dissection as they were forged — that’s why they’re red like that — and then, I personally cursed them. Not just in that half-assed way I used to curse your old ones, either. Nope, these needles have more energy than even most Grade 1 sorcerers do! If the higher ups were still around, they would probably dub them special grade cursed tools, though they’re largely impractical to utilize for anyone but you.”

“I won’t ever use them,” you said. “So you shouldn’t have gone to all of that trouble. But thank you for doing that, and for entrusting them to me, anyways.”

“Who knows?” he said. “It just makes me feel better to know you have them. That way, you’ll never be defenseless. There’ll be this small piece of me that’ll always be with you, protecting you even when my entire self can’t be there to do it.”

“You didn’t train with everyone else,” Kusakabe said. “It’s too dangerous. You absolutely cannot go. Anyways, didn’t you give up combat?”

“I thought that healing was how I could save people,” you said. “But it turns out that I can’t save anyone, regardless of what I choose. So I will do what I set out to in the start. I will fight.”

“I’ll go with her,” Maki said, nodding at you firmly. You had thought for a second that she might try to convince you to stay back, but you really shouldn’t have. She wasn’t like Yuta and Gojo, who always tried to protect you. She was the one who had first taught you to fight, after all, the one who taught you what the definition of strength itself was. She would never try to stop you, not for as long as you allowed her to stay by your side — and you would never, ever deny her that, because you could not deny yourself her presence, because there was a time when she had been the only one you could call distinctly and wholly your own.

Shinjuku was nothing more than a mess of rubble and rocks strewn about at this point. Sukuna had shifted into his true form, and if you had had the time, then thinking about what that meant for Megumi would have driven you to tears anew. Yet it was like this: you could no longer think about Megumi. Not now, when he was beyond saving. Not now, when Gojo was dead. Not now, when you and Maki were about to make your own stand against the creature which had stolen so much from everyone you both loved.

“What now?” Maki said. “Do you have a plan?”

“Sort of. You have to stay back,” you said. “I’m pretty sure he still won’t do anything to me, but he doesn’t have the same misgivings about killing you, so only come if it seems like I really am about to die.”

“What if I’m not fast enough?” she said.

“You will be,” you said. “There’s not a soul alive that’s faster than you, but anyways, it won’t come to that, so don’t engage him in battle until I’ve made my move and sufficiently weakened him. Once I’ve done that, you can come help me.”

Sukuna noticed you almost immediately, and then he was batting away Itadori and the others, his entire inhuman body’s hatred concentrated solely on you, as it always was, as it always would be. You thought in the back of your mind that you should’ve felt afraid at that moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be anything but resigned. This was an inevitable eventuality. Perhaps you had delayed it by choosing to heal, but in the end, there was no surprise that it was you two. The King of Curses. The girl named after the woman who sealed him. In truth, the ending of this story had been written a long time ago.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, his tone the same as always, seething and loveless and loathing. Maybe this was how your name should always be said. Y/N L/N, the horrible girl who fought when she should’ve healed and healed when she should’ve fought, the one who could not help a single person she cared about. Maybe Sukuna had it right after all.

“Sukuna,” you said. “You killed Gojo.”

He laughed. “Yes, I did.”

“And Tullia,” you added.

“Correct,” he said.

“And — and Megumi,” you said, half-hoping he would refute this. But he dashed your hopes as soon as they blossomed, humming in agreement.

“Indeed, that is the case,” he said. “All of those people are gone. You loved each and every one of them, and now they are all dead at my hand. I killed them, and it brought me the greatest pleasure and most immense joy to do so.”

“Why?” you said. “Why am I still alive when they’re not? Why do you torture me like this? What have I ever done to you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “You have never done anything. But I need you for my own purposes, and I despise you for that reason. I despise you because you, insignificant and irritating as you are, are so important to me.”

“How?” you said. “I don’t understand it. What can I even do for you? I’m not Megumi. I don’t have a technique that will allow you to defeat some great foe, and you don’t need a body from me anymore, not now that you have regained your true form. So why do you want me?”

“You don’t have to understand,” he said. “My reasons are mine alone. I don’t owe an explanation to a bitch of a girl who’s closer to being vermin than anything.

He would never tell you, you realized. You would never get to know what he desired from you, because in his eyes, you would never be his equal. Not like Gojo was. You weren’t powerful like the others, either, so you couldn’t demand he speak; thus, you had to make peace with the uncertainty and continue onwards. Because even though there wasn’t much you could do at this point, not anymore, you no longer despaired. You just used the only thing you had left, something which had been there for you from the start and was now there for you in the end.

It was the same as the first time, all of the way back on that balcony during the party which Gojo had rescued you from. Then, just as now, an inappropriate giddiness had filled you as you finally did what your blood had always sang for. For the last time, you made that figurative leap, knowing that you would invariably crash but cherishing the instant of free-fall that came before the impact, the one which you always had longed for so greatly in your youth.

“Dissection,” you said, the word falling from your lips so easily, so familiarly, hanging in the air for a moment as you activated your cursed technique for the first time since Shibuya.

Sukuna cackled at you. “Foolish girl! Do you really think that that’s enough to face me, when even the infamous Limitless technique of the Gojo clan was not? Use your ridiculous, pointless technique all you want, for it’ll do you no good. After all, how does it matter that you can see my weaknesses when I have none?”

He wasn’t incorrect, in one sense. There were no spots illuminated by Dissection on his body. He truly seemed to be invulnerable, but you knew better. You saw what he could not, because Dissection was your technique. You didn’t have to be the strongest to win this fight. You just had to be strong enough to do what you had to.

“You’re wrong,” you said.

“You presume to say that?” he said. “You are the one who’s wrong, Y/N L/N. There’s not a point on my body that you could strike to kill me.”

“You’re right,” you said, raising one of Gojo’s needles, admiring the peculiar crimson shade of the metal as the setting sun hit them. Sukuna’s eyes widened as he figured out that you had caught on, that you had finally perceived why he would not, could not kill you, and then he was crying out in alarm, extending his four arms towards you, but it was all in vain. He would not reach you in time. No one ever could. “There’s not. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have any faults. Actually, you do have one, and this time, unlike every other, that’s enough.”

“Stop!” he shouted, activating his technique, though he was much too late to do anything but watch you with the horror of a person who was finally, after a thousand years, staring defeat in the face.

“You have taken everything from me,” you said. “So in exchange, I’ll do the same. I will no longer live for you, Sukuna.”

And with that, you drove the needle into the soft white glow centered over his singular weakness: your own heart.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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boldlygreatsuit · 25 days

Text

youtube

Why I love one-sided radiostatic

Before I start this little rant I must disclose that I’m aroace (so please know that this isn’t me trying to erase his orientation and present asexually as a problem, this is me trying to explore these complex and flawed characters) and so naturally I love the representation of alastor also being aroace so maybe me shipping radiostatic is a little hypocritical of me but I can’t help but love the story and tragic character exploration behind it.

Personally I like to believe that Alastor GENUINELY loved Vox, just not in the way he wanted. (They had some kind of queer platonic relationship but Vox wanted more and Al felt uncomfortable) And I think it killed Alastor to hurt his closest friend so much when he turned him down, I’ve been through something similar with an old friend I used to have. I know what’s it like so maybe I’m projecting onto Al but ehhhh.

It’s easy to just paint alastor and a evil psychopathic serial killer, a cannibal, and sadist, who loves torturing and tormenting people, don’t get me wrong, he is all those things but don’t forget he’s also human, he still has emotions no matter how much he represses them for the sake of his pride, reputation and self preservation. I could totally see him struggling to understand why’s he’s different and just brushing it off, after all, it’s never been an issue before now. He never had many close friends, nobody he’d ever be interested in pursuing. And now the person he loves the most wants him and he cant bring himself to want him back no matter how much he wants too.

I like the idea that Alastor wants to want him so much but he just can’t and it absolutely destroys him. He feels guilty and ashamed that he cant reciprocate Voxs feeling towards him (remember he’s from the 1930s, I doubt he knows what the LGTB is, let alone asexually so he’s probably under the impression that’s he’s broken in some regard. He probably never gave romantic and sex much thought, assuming that he would start feeling something eventually but nothing ever happened). While Vox just cant understand why he doesn’t like him back and keeps trying and it creates an uncomfortable situation for both of them.

I think radiostatic can be so tragic, they both love each other but in different ways and it tears them apart and they lose their closest friend due to it. Which ends up with them both bitter, raw and angry. Both blaming each other outwardly (Vox hating that Alastor rejected him while Alastor is upset that Vox went and caught feelings, complicating their perfectly platonic relationship) but internally hating themselves (Vox thinks he did something wrong to scare alastor away while Alastor hates that he couldn’t feel the same way).

I know Alastor is a very prideful person but I think behind closed doors his incredibly sentimental, after all, he’s pretty much a snapshot of the 1930s and he doesn’t seem to happy about change. So I could just imagine him up at night staring at the ceiling struggling with what he could do, whether or not, he should just lie to keep Vox happy and enter a relationship He does not want to be in so he can avoid losing his best friend (but also risk leading him on); or he turns him down and is honest with himself, not forcing himself into a relationship he doesn’t want but irreversibly hurting Vox in the process, and also risking losing Vox forever.

This could also create an interesting situation where Alastor agrees to date Vox and really tries to love him, hoping that maybe he’ll start feeling something eventually or at least get used to it. Of course this doesn’t really work and just creates resentment and pent-up emotions. Due to lying to Vox about wanting him and digging himself into this hole and the longer he stays the harder it is to leave without hurting Vox, this could lead to a messy breakup when Al just cant take it anymore and leaves.

I think “never love an anchor” and “tongue and teeth” are such perfect songs to encapsulate this kind of situation, the guilt and remorse but also the inevitability and hopelessness of it, the knowledge that there ISNT a right answer, no fairytale ending, this isn’t something to be overcome only accepted, and no matter what is done someone gets hurt severely and the only question is who and by how much.

I want to see a Alastor and Vox confrontation where we see how upset they are and how they’re equally heartbroken. Al for the first time shows actual vulnerability as he’s expressing his self loathing and guilt towards his choices but even so he stands by them and tries to defend them. He hates that he did what he did but there wasn’t another option for him and he didnt know what to do.

They both struggle with their emotions but also their pride and respective personas, not wanting to put aside their pride and admit their own shortcomings and guilt, and be genuinely honest and vulnerable with each other. They want to comfort the other but they’re just at a point where they don’t know if they could, if it would make it worse. they both still love each so so so much (in different ways) but it’s all wrapped up in fear, resentment, guilt and heartbreak which complicates things.

Ngl the best outcome is these two going to therapy, probably Charlie, and actually learn how to communicate.

#Youtube #alastor hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #Vox #Alastor #radiostatic #staticradio #i know im a sucker for the angst #angst #kinda controversial #rant post #rant #shipping #complex relationships

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tf2-oneshots · 7 months

Note

can we get one where medic likes big men and heavy makes his brain short circuit? please?

Big men my beloved

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

It was the first day of work for the newly hired Medic. He straightens his coat, hair fixed into place before he steps through the doors of his new office. He starts by organizing his filing cabinet. While he hasn’t met anyone else on the team, the Administrator gave him brief overviews of everyone.

Each teammate is placed in alphabetical order until Medic reaches Heavy. He pauses to admire the photo of the large man. Despite it only being a headshot, Medic can tell that he’s a burly man. Before he can get ahead of himself, the doors swing open.

“You are Doktor?” Comes a deep voice that shakes Medic to the core. The German turns, and its a sight to behold. Heavy, the man he was just ogling, is in the medical room! Right now! Medic stammers, papers slipping out of his hands and onto the tile floor.

“I-I apologize. Ja, I—I’m Medic.” A nervous laugh as he kneels to pick up Heavy’s paperwork. He tries to ignore the massive man before him, focused on putting the pages in their correct order. God, he’s weak to men like Heavy!

The doctor stands, nervously smiling, but it likely looks deranged. Still, Heavy nods and takes a seat on the operating table. He looks to the German, silent as he gathers his thoughts.

“Many doktors say Heavy is too heavy. These doktors do not practice anymore. Heavy broke them.” Years of his weight being mocked and belittled by so called medical professionals has left the Russian with a bitter attitude towards doctors. Every ailment had the same diagnosis: fat. Heavy’s weight was always the issue.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that! Men your size are no issue for me! Aheh, I-I mean, I don’t see weight.” No, even that sounds wrong. Medic bites his lip, trying to find the right way of saying that men like Heavy are his favorite.

“Understood. Doktor has nothing to fear.” But he has something to admire. As Heavy turns to leave, Medic watches him walk out. Despite his nerves, he’ll get that Adonis wrapped around his finger.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #heavymedic #red oktoberfest

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xerith-42 · 26 days

Note

dude. xerith. idk if you saw my reblog of madcatlad’s post, BUT. they cooked. the issue on the table: nether withdrawals. i’m insane about this.

very much exploring the idea of the calling being more about fighting the addiction that is the nether itself for shadow knights, rather than purely the aggression part.

thoughts? musings?

Oh Cinn, oh Cinn you've brought my attention to something beautiful.

Little known fact about me because I'm still pretty decent about over sharing on the internet, addiction is something I've actually thrown hands with before. The idea of the Calling as an addiction to the Nether?? Now that's a concept I can latch onto.

I think that there could be ways to satiate withdrawal, but not in an exactly helpful way. The Calling is in Shadow Knights brains like "Oooh you wanna kill your loved ones and come back to the Nether soooo bad." But minor acts of violence and arson can make it shut up. Enough bloodshed, such as what happens at the Werewolf Wedding, is enough to make it so a knight isn't drawn to the idea of killing their loved one anymore because the urge for blood has been answered. Of course... Most Shadow Knights fighting the call aren't exactly happy when something like the Werewolf Wedding happens to them.

As for the urge of the Nether, they could always try to answer that with things that are like the Nether or remind them of it. Sitting by a fire, setting things on fire, sitting in a pool of hot water that can at least try and simulate lava, setting things on fire, existing in the bitter dry heat of an Arizonan morning, or setting things on fire. The Calling always responds best to the most violent solution, and even while trying to satiate it, it's still pulling at the mental strings of a knight to make the most violent decisions possible.

That idea of being able to sit by a fire instead of setting something ablaze really sucks for Knights who might have been traumatized by the Nether and struggle to be around fire for very long as a result, Laurance.

A lot of moments of a premature Shadow Knight lashing out aren't necessarily because the Calling is making them want to kill, it's because it's making them want to go back to something they know is bad for them. It's a drug that they've overdosed on and are trying to run away from still present in their veins and urging them to take another dose, regardless of its lethality. That kind of mental gymnastics and battle wears down at a person even when they aren't actively fighting. Even if they aren't in their head fighting the Calling and it's urges, it's still there. They still think about it.

Laurance doesn't want to go back to The Nether. He would rather die again than go back there. But when he sees the frame of a portal, when he's nearby one that's unstable, he has to fight. He has to fight his body and its urge to go back to that hell. Just one hit will make him feel better. Just a chance to touch netherack and breathe that ashy air will soothe his worries. Because being reminded of the Nether, even if it causes a trauma response, does cause a part of his brain to feel good. The Calling sees fire and gives him a shot of dopamine and excitement.

Wouldn't it just be so nice if he went back? If he didn't have to feel this constant drain? If he was in the Nether then the Calling would shut up, right? Wouldn't it be so amazing to just feel this good all the time? He's already dead, what damage can be done to his body afterwards?

Of course the Calling has two components, both addictive. One is of course the urge to go to the Nether. The other is that urge to kill your loved one and gain immortality. Doing one only makes the other feel stronger. Oh, you sat next to a Nether portal and made it so you're now comfortable in the over world? Bet you wanna kill your lord right about now, huh?

What's that, you actually killed your lord? Well, don't you just wanna come home to the Nether where you're surrounded by people who have all done the same and won't hate you for it? Go on, you know you want to.

Like everything else, it comes down to the Shadow Kings need to control. If he can make Shadow Knights into addicts of stuff directly associated with him, they'll be more loyal. They'll serve him to get a fix of bloodshed and hell fire. They'll come running back to him after ruining their lives for his enjoyment, and they'll fall at his feet for the chance to become a higher up in their army. He deprives them of everything they ever could have had and calls it freedom.

#not to like #get real personal #but I have been falling back into some of my vices due to an ongoing depressive episode #so being able to project this onto my favorite block shaped brain worms is really nice #hope you liked what I cooked up Cinn #you usually do :)#minecraft diaries #aphblr #text post #laurance zvahl #mcd #answering asks #minecraft diaries laurance #mcd laurance #shadow knights

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hiraunia · 2 months

Text

With the final chapter of TCWKTM by @crinklytinfoil upcoming I have decided to celebrate with more doodles. YAY!

(Did I say upcoming, I meant release. Apperently I posted this 3 minutes after the last chapter updated)

I don't know why I have decided that Shrike always wears those night vision goggles(?) now but they look cool at least(GOD I LOVE THEM).

I think I've finally gotten a hang of Dani's hairstyle for my design which is a blessing because in order from the easiest to hardest hair texture to draw is Coily>Straight>Locs>Wavy>Braids>Curly with a jump of times 4 from braids to curly(My hubris for giving Cyan short curly hair has and will continue to keep biting me in the ass).

Speaking of Cyan, I've also updated him. He always has eye bags now cause he feels tired now, more so than the start of the fic at least. Since, unless I've missed something, he's still wearing Black's suit I felt I should make it a part of his outfit. One of the issues I was having when I drew him though was that we still call him Cyan but he wasn't wearing cyan anymore which is an issue when I read the story but when I drew him it just felt odd. My solution to that hangup of mine was to keep the suit and belt black’s but give him the gloves and boots so there's at least some cyan still on him since I don't think it was ever stated that Johnny cut those off, there wouldn't be a reason to and they would fit him better than Johnny's anyways. He also isn’t wearing his backpack thing or helmet(not that I ever drew anyone with theirs anyways) since I figured they probably lost it or some shit. In this pic no one is wearing theirs but that’s just because I wanted them to look like they were chilling, Cyan straight up doesn’t have his.

Funnily enough this is the one that took the least amount of time to make, I started it yesterday and finished it like now though I do attribute that to a stroke of sudden inspiration that I was able to draw in my sketchbook so honestly most of the work was the coloring.

Drawing these guys just kinda being silly is so fun it's unfair, especially Purple. This man has done so much bullshit, I should shoot him on sight but the moment I pick up my pen he appears, the motherfucker! A pretty fun aspect of these purple are, as you can see, he's using Grey's skin. While I'm pretty sure in the story he looks the exact same I figured it would be more fun for drawing purposes to mix the two of them together to create some distinction rather than just drawing Grey with a purple suit.

My design for Grey had him as average height but more stout(at least comparatively for my artstyle) while Purple was a little more scrawny and tall which worked well for what I wanted to do. His bangs are center parted when Grey's bangs are gathered in the center. Also I drew their expressions differently, when it's Purple I draw his more bitter/sour, I decided that most of his expressions are squinty and tend to furrow the brows while Grey's are more, I'm not sure how to put it, genuine?

As you can probably tell I really enjoy trying to come up with the character's designs myself but I know when to throw in the towel and admit someone did better than me. I tried to come up with a design for Olive/Finch myself but I just could not come up with one I liked even equally let alone more than @krysmcscience 's design. They really captured their energy well so I’m just using theirs.

Ayy, I drew my take on good old Johnny boy. I think I did a pretty good job making him look older without him becoming a mass of wrinkles.

Drawing Flayer's ship was pretty fun, I've been trying to draw backgrounds and objects more so it was good practice. We obviously don't know what it actually looks like yet other than it is made of flesh and metal so I definitely had to just make shit up. For these bitches sake I hope it's bigger than what I designed because it is going to suck otherwise. Just as I'm typing this I kinda already wanna redesign it though.

I went for something more simple based of the premise that ships are complicated and difficult to make; the whole thing is kinda supposed to look like the flesh is doing a lot of the work to keep it together to compensate for a lack of technical knowledge and skill but just now I remembered that Flayer was the head of the mechanics so she almost certainly has more than enough knowledge and experience to make a good ship on her own even without the flesh. Oh well, I can redesign it when we learn more. I'm keeping its face though, the face was a completely but incredibly happy accident.

Also, I find it interesting that the Imposter’s missions are usually about them destroying biomechanical technology but one of Flayer's named imposter abilities is to use her genetic material to create machinery that fuses artificial and organic material.

Bounus Doodles!

I'm pretty sure these were all drawn sometime before the new year but they were all I had and I didn't want to post one image of doodles so enjoy them now.

While I am still proud of Brown and Devon making out I think my favorite doodle here is Cyan and his judgmental ass face. Why is he staring at Finch like, he is not in any position to but judging like that.

I also borrowed Kry's designs for Red and Umber, I couldn't help myself for Umber, it was just too perfect!

Not sure how I feel about my take on Skeld!White(Finnegan I CANT-). I'm not sure if it's just I'm so used to seeing Kry's design that anything else feels weird or just that I made him too baby faced and princessy. I tend to draw men that are very pretty and feminine so I think I went overboard when I tried my hand since he was usually described similar to how I would normally design a man.

#among us #fanart #the crewmate who knew too much #crinklytinfoil #hirart #hirantalkstoomuch #Wait why do the colors look so much better on my phone than my monitor?#My computer is so fucked up its not even funny

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ooshu · 1 year

Text

johnny suh / angst prompt requested by anon [see notes below] | 🎧 inspired by facebook friends niki

you do not know how it all started, really. maybe the little things piled up until they have become a single, big issue to deal with. maybe the magic isn’t there anymore. you two just shared an apartment like roommates. the dinner’s gone cold every time he comes home. johnny never says “i love you” back any longer. you were so sure of marrying him in the future but you couldn’t tell if he feels the same anymore. until you were right.

“i wish i never met you.”

and fuck, it was hard to hear those words coming from a significant one whom you’ve almost spent your whole life with. you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore—the frustration of feeling like a ghost walking around in the apartment just kicked in impulsively. no more holding back.

“me too, johnny.” you sneered. “i can’t believe i wasted the best days of my life with you.”

johnny did not know how grave his words were until you brought the ball to the other side of the court. he just stared at you, taken aback at your words. his guilt starts to creep in. he tried to maneuver it but you…

you just stormed off your shared living room and headed toward your bedroom. you brought out your luggage and piled the clothes unorganized and the quickest way possible. you wanted to get out. you felt suffocated and betrayed in a room with someone who wishes he would have been completely alone instead.

or who wishes it was another person instead of you who accompanied him all these years.

when you zipped your luggage, you did not spare a glance at johnny. in a snap, he saw you walking away from his life. gone are the honeymoon, cloud-nine days when your childhood best friend was head over heels when you said “yes, johnny. i’m yours. forever.”. it would’ve been nice to end up with your kindergarten crush, your pretend-to-be prom date because you two were too goofy to mingle around in high school, and the unserious-turned-A-student college jock who attended your college graduation because your parents were too far away from you.

and that night, neither of you called or texted. the lines are still open. you waited for him to apologize for being so so close-minded and for not trying to work things out because you would have given him another chance to explain himself, or maybe you could just hear him saying “i don’t love you anymore”, it would bring you to ease. but weeks and months went by, your urge to punch him endlessly in the chest subsided. the love turned almost so bitter, so hateful. it was so abrupt but you lost your best friend. and he just easily let whatever this was for him; but for you, it was your everything.

months turned to a year or two. you don’t know what he has been up to but seeing his instagram, he was traveling the states. recently, he visited his mom back in chicago. he was tagged in the photo, posted on his mom’s facebook account. he looked better, calm, even. when he was with you just weeks before the open-ended breakup, he could not keep his hands to himself; fidgeting everywhere. one minor inconvenience and he snaps.

you bumped into jaehyun. you assumed his friends were no longer your friends. but he was kind enough to recognize you from afar and say, “i missed you!”. he treated you to some coffee after work, and there you learned johnny was struggling with his career path. he left his law school life for photography for quite some time now, jaehyun said. he never expounded it but he said he is in a better and more consistent position in life now.

a part of you was sad that he never once brought it up, that he no longer trusted you in these kinds of things. this was the curse of open-ended things: your mind betrays you to give yourself your own closure—and the closure there is is you were no longer johnny’s home.

on the other hand, you quit social media. but you never deleted johnny’s pictures on your feed. needless to say, you have made yourself occupied with your work and life. you got promoted and opted for an apartment you can finally call your own. you’ve been seeing some and meeting new friends and potential lovers, but you couldn’t deny you weren’t ready for another relationship yet. you are pretty sure johnny is doing the same. he posts his champagne nights and new cities visited on his instagram. his stories were him hanging out with his friends. some are familiar, including jaehyun and mark. and you are glad.

but sometimes, it gets frustrating. you wish for johnny’s happiness to this day but you still torture yourself by scrolling through his feed sometimes. you just wait for him to block you, really. if he could just end your misery by hitting the damn block button, you would come back to social media without your mind thinking betraying you that he’s still checking up on you. because johnny never did anyway. because what fucking part of “i wish i never met you.” is him not deleting your shared photos together so you can finally call it a day?

then a minute later, you were crafting a long text saying you wish him the best, and your prerogative tells you in order to move on, you’re cutting off lines. johnny wanted this to happen anyway, you thought. you’re also doing this for yourself. it has been two years, for fuck’s sake. and he threw all those years spent together like nothing.

but it was so stupid to let someone know you are finally blocking them, isn’t it?

so you hit the backspace button until all the things you wrote for an hour, all carefully curated, were gone. you scoffed when you almost sent that you miss him every day, that you pray for him for whatever he’s going through, and that you’re glad that he visited his mom after five years of being homesick. because what part of this sweet cooing he deserves? you have to admit, the push and pulling of emotions, of letting go and trying one more time have been a massive conflict, and fuck, you have been so inconsistent. all of these because you still couldn’t properly process that last night when he invalidated you.

you were about to close the messaging app when johnny’s status lit green.

and the conversation thread has made appear three grey dots from his end.

you waited.

until johnny's message appeared on your screen.

“i have everything now. but what’s the point of these if you’re not here?"

thank you, anon, for requesting this! i've always wanted to write something for johnny and you came just in perfectly! also, i hope you're okay given you've requested for niki (which in this case, i would not reveal as to why her songs are in my most played list lol she's miss patron of situationships and fwb to me)

i kind of went the other way like, reader still is hoping the best for johnny despite the big argument. like being the better person; like a one sided amicable! but as long as the connection is there (socmed), they're still hurting? oh gosh i really like this song the idea just popped out i'm sorryrhrbdb :(

also the title... yes, it's one of niki's songs too from the same album! thought i could sprinkle some reference in there haha!

prompt reveal!

i’ve been obsessed with facebook friends by niki! something about ex lovers who ended amicably but still yearn for each other hits :’). i’m thinking johnny for some reason? jhyun also fits! i so appreciate you writing angst <3 best genre written by a great author! do you have any song recs to share?

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onceuponastory · 1 year

Text

speak now - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky (and Sam) go back to the same bar he met Y/N in. Hopefully, this time Bucky can actually work up the courage to speak to her. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (again, very slight) Warnings: A few mentions of Bucky’s past as the Winter Soldier (but nothing too graphic), alcohol, and the anxiety and negative feelings/self doubt about himself he has afterwards. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This is a part two to my Bucky fic The Story of You, which you can read here. This is more of a small filler kind of part, but I hope you like it all the same. Thank you to @thesundrop / @astartothemoon for my divider! Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Fancy getting a drink somewhere?” Sam asks, and Bucky nods. Sam’s visiting from Louisiana for a few days, and despite their teasing of one other, Bucky’s glad to have a familiar face around to talk to. Especially now, when he’s still so lonely. “Okay, but I get to pick the bar.”

“Sure, whatever.” Bucky shrugs. As he and Sam walk through the streets of New York, Bucky sighs, wrapping his jacket around him and hoping the leather protects him from the cold. Of course, it does little to help, but it was worth a try, anyway. If Bucky was different, wasn’t so fucked up, he could almost find it funny. A Winter Soldier who hates the cold. But then again, after the hell he’s been through…maybe he should try to find the happiness in the little things. And besides, it wouldn’t hurt anymore than what he’s used to, right?

“Oh! This place looks good.” Sam announces, cutting through Bucky’s thoughts. Bucky murmurs something in agreement, until he realises where he’s currently standing. His eyes widen, and he mutters an:

“Oh, fuck.”

He’s standing outside Y/N’s bar.

The bar he practically ran out of almost a week ago, and hasn’t been back since, finding it too awkward to even think about going back after what happened. “You know, there’s other-”

“Ah, ah!” Sam shakes his head. “Guest’s choice. And I choose here. Come on.” He beckons for Bucky to follow, opening the door and stepping inside. Before following him, Bucky groans, hoping the ground will open up and swallow him whole. Of course, seeing Y/N again wouldn’t be a bad thing. Quite the opposite, actually. The issue is that Bucky has no idea what the hell he’s going to say to her when he sees her again. What if she asks why he ran? What if she’s pissed at him? He would be in her case, but still. Y/N’s a sweet girl. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt anymore by him. Hopefully she’s off tonight or something. Or at least, hopefully he can be subtle about it.

But then, he notices Y/N standing by the bar, laughing at something a customer is saying. And something in Bucky’s stomach flutters. At the sound of the door, she turns around, spotting Bucky almost immediately. As soon as she does, her eyes light up, and the thing in Bucky’s chest flutters once more. God, he’s got it bad.

“Bucky! Nice to see you’re back. And you brought a friend!” Y/N calls. Bucky blushes. Well, so much for being subtle.

“Hey Y/N. This is Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam!” Y/N smiles, holding her hand out for Sam to shake. “Any friend of Bucky’s is a friend of mine.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Sam nods, eyeing Bucky out of the corner of his eye, giving him a look that tells Bucky he wants to know every detail immediately. Bucky gulps. He’s in for a long night.

“Anyway, what can I get you two?”

“Bucky, you’re staring at her again.”

“No, I’m not.” Sam raises a brow, murmurs something like “Yeah, right.” And goes back to his drink. Bucky takes another drink of his beer, letting the bitter tasting liquid flow throughout his body as he braces himself for the question he knows Sam is just dying to ask.

“So. You two have met before, huh? What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Honestly, Bucky does mind a little. Especially since it means he’ll have to explain himself and his anxieties again, something he hates doing. After being alone for so long and unable to trust anyone, not even his own mind, Bucky has learned he’s better off not opening up to anyone. Like he said, he’s better off alone. Deep down, though, he knows that Sam’s just trying to help. Not just as a therapist, but as a friend. And maybe that’s what he needs right now.

“We met a week ago, when I came in for a drink. We got on pretty well, actually.” Sam smiles, and Bucky sighs, knowing that what he’s about to say will only cause Sam’s smile to drop. “But um…I left, and kind of ran away.”

“You RAN?” Sam gasps, his eyes widening in disbelief. His expression does little to improve Bucky’s mood, or ease his guilt.

“Yes. I did.” Bucky sighs, his gaze flickering down to his hands. Even though he’s around Sam, his only close friend since Steve left…Bucky’s hands are still gloved. Even surrounded by friends and after being deprogrammed, Bucky still doesn’t trust himself or his arm. And besides, that’s why he left. Because he doesn’t want to hurt Y/N the same way he hurts everyone else.

“Why?”

“Well, we started talking about ourselves and our lives, and I think I went too far, so….” Bucky doesn’t even need to finish his sentence before Sam nods.

“I see.” He sighs. But it’s not a disappointed sigh. In fact, it’s one that tells Bucky that Sam understands how he feels, and how much he wants to help. “Bucky, how does Y/N make you feel?”

“Well, obviously, she’s really pretty. But it’s not just that. She makes me feel so great, Sam. When we hung out, we laughed a lot, and it was really nice, despite my mind constantly telling me how I didn’t deserve it. Having someone treat me with kindness after everything that happened…” He trails off, a huge smile on his face. Sam grins.

“There it is. Bucky, you don’t have to keep torturing yourself anymore. It’s okay to want to make friends and even find love again.” Bucky raises a brow, and Sam chuckles. “Dude, don’t look at me like that. You’re so obviously head over heels for her.” Blushing, Bucky glances over to the bar again, watching as Y/N busies herself preparing drinks. “That smile tells me everything I need to know. Hold on to that feeling. Go talk to her.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to hurt her, or for her to be freaked out by my…my everything.”

“You don’t have to ask her out on a date or anything, maybe just apologise for what happened and ask if she wants to grab a drink sometime. Make amends with her just like with everyone else. Start small. You can do that.” Gulping, Bucky stands up, taking a breath as he tries to hype himself up to be able to speak to Y/N. “Good luck!” Sam calls. When Bucky reaches the bar, his mind feels like it’s going haywire. Perhaps he should just run now, while he still can. Y/N turns around, smiling the second she sees him. There’s the fluttering again.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I…” Bucky begins, unsure of what to even say. How the hell is he going to explain this? Why he ran? His past? “Come on. Just say it. Ask her out for a casual drink. That’s small, that’s easy.”

“Cat got your tongue?” Y/N giggles, and Bucky lets out an awkward chuckle.

“I…I would like two more beers, please.”

For the rest of the night, Bucky still tries to speak to Y/N without stammering like an idiot. And every time, he can’t do it, retreating to the table for another pep talk from Sam, only for the cycle to repeat.

“Okay, it’s getting late, so we better get back. And that means it’s your last chance, Buck.” Sam points out as they gather the empty bottles and glasses to take back to the bar.

“I know.”

“Look, I don’t mean to push you if you’re not ready, it’s just the way you look at her all the time, and the way you smile…there’s something special there Bucky, and after everything you’ve been through, it’s nice to see you so happy.”

“Aw, so you do care.” Bucky teases.

“Don’t push it.” Yet, Sam’s words make him smile. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he does deserve some happiness after everything. If only he could find the confidence to actually say more than a few sentences to her.

“Leaving so soon, you two?” Y/N asks. For a moment, Bucky swears there’s a twinge of disappointment in her voice. However, it’s gone as soon as he notices it.

“Yeah, early start for us two tomorrow.” Sam answers.

“Well, it was great to meet you, Sam, and to see you again, Bucky. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“I’m sorry.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth before he even thinks about it. His sudden admission even surprises him a little. Maybe after so long being too scared to actually speak to Y/N again, his mind and heart are taking the first step for him. Y/N and Sam frown, and Bucky continues. “For running away last time I was here, and for prodding too far.”

“Bucky, it’s alright.”

“No, no, it wasn’t. I was going through a lot, and if I made you feel like you had done something wrong, then I’m sorry for that too.”

“Bucky, honestly, it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything.”

“I’d like to start again, if that’s okay. Maybe we could go for a drink sometime?” And then, Y/N’s frown turns into a smile.

“Yeah…yeah, that’ll be great. I’d love to.” Bucky breathes a sigh of relief, grinning. That wasn’t so hard. Maybe things between them both will be okay after all.

“About damn time!”

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x Female Reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel oneshot

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aiitheoutsinfree · 1 year

Text

I Love The Night

Annie Leonhardt x Reader

Word Count: 1582

Warnings: Break ups, mention of Mikasa’s parents, mention of juvie, abandonment issues

Summary: Mikasa ends things between you and her, but in doing so, starts something better between you and Annie.

AUs: Modern!AU

Notes: I based this fic on this cover!

————

That night her kiss told me it was over

————

This trip feels off in a concerning way.

You’re at Sasha’s, enjoying what was supposed to be a very sunny Spring Break at her family’s lakeside house. When all of you arrived it started raining, but you can’t hear it anymore, the sound fading into the music.

The welcome party started off fun, but it very quickly became uncomfortable. Everyone keeps looking at you, steering clear of you, and you don’t like it.

“Mika, can we please go to bed? I don’t like how everyone keeps staring and avoiding me. Sasha looks uncomfortable, and I know that if she didn’t want me here, she’d have told me.”

Mikasa sighs, pulling me to Sasha’s room. When she closes the door, she backs you against it, kissing you. You can’t decipher why she seems so eager, can’t tell why she’s so insistent, but it doesn’t bother you at the moment. You pull back from the kiss and see Mikasa crying. You try to bring a hand to her cheek to wipe away the tears, but she pulls away and looks to the side.

“I was hoping they could let me wait to do this, but I guess not.”

“Do what?”

“Jean and I are going to start dating again. I was hoping to tell you after the trip was over, so we could have more good memories together. I told the others to leave you alone, but I think they took it too literally.”

“Y-you’re what? Mika, he ditched you.”

“Y/N, tread carefully. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“You told me you loved me, Mikasa! You said I was your first love, that he abandoned you!”

At that, her eyes glass over, you can’t even tell what she’s feeling. When she speaks, it’s with a cold voice, wobbling slightly.

“Y/N, you were a distraction. I tried telling you that you were only ever going to last until he came back. Now, let’s get back to the party.”

You scoff, “Fine, you wanna shut me out? I’m gonna get some air. I can’t stand being here with you.”

Her eyes widen before you turn away, and it seems for a second like she’s going to try and stop you. You hope she does.

————

I went out late into the dark, the misty gloom seemed to soak up my sorrows

————

You leave the room, head back down to everyone else, grab a drink from a very terrified Connie, and go outside. The rain must have stopped a while ago, because the landscape has a thick layer of fog coating it. You see the pier that Sasha’s family set up and go sit on the edge of it, taking a drink every now and then as you try and calm yourself down.

————

The further I went on, I felt a spreading calm

————

As you sit, you reflect on what you and Mikasa had been through together. The sleepless nights when Eren went to juvie for beating up Jean in your sophomore year, when she’d get jealous because she thought Hitch, Pieck, or Annie were getting too close to you for her liking. She’d helped you through your trust issues after Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt moved when all of you graduated, gone without a word. As an ingrained part of their small group, you’d felt so betrayed, but now you just hope they’re okay.

You think back to the inciting incident that led to your relationship, her getting left by Jean. She was so hurt, and while you’d had a crush on her for a while before then, you didn’t expect anything from her. She’d said that’s what drew her to you, that you didn’t feel entitled to her attention or love. It could be that you’re still raw, but the sentiment leaves you bitter.

You thought of how you’d held her after the death of her parents, having to move in with Levi. God, what was this gonna do to your relationship with him? He was like a big brother to you. The same with Eren and Armin, they followed her like puppies, and you feared she’d tell them to leave you alone.

You hear footsteps behind you, and turn quickly to see who’s approaching. If it’s her you might decide to take a late night swim to avoid her.

————

Then suddenly my eyes were bathed in light, and the lovely lady in white stood by my side

————

A light flashes at you, and you quickly cover your eyes. You hear a muttered sorry, and when the light turns off it takes you a second for your eyes to readjust. When they do, your eyes widen at the sight of Annie Leonhardt not even two or three feet away. She raises one of her brows at you.

“I see you’d like to be alone.” As she turns to leave, you reach out, tugging the sleeve of her white hoodie lightly.

“Could you please stay?”

She huffs, and sits down next to you.

————

She said, “Like me I see you’re waking alone, won’t you please stay?”

————

“I had come here to say sorry we left, though I’ve heard that’s the least of the problems on your mind tonight.”

You give her a warning look, “Annie.”

She shrugs, “I’m just saying, you dodged a bullet. If she’s willing to get back with horseface after what he pulled with Eren, then she doesn’t deserve you.” You scoff.

“And what, you do?”

“Frankly, no. I don’t think any of us would, besides Historia or Sasha…if they weren’t taken.”

You look at her side profile, how she looks in the moonlight. She looks ethereal, and you almost laugh when you remember how many times she’d called herself ugly because of her nose. Almost, because you can’t find it in yourself to distract her from whatever she’s looking at in the stars. Almost, because for the thousandth time since you’d met her, you’d seen how gorgeous she is.

————

I couldn’t look away

————

“I love the night.”

“Huh?”

She doesn’t turn to you, “The day’s okay, but the night’s so much calmer, like a held breath’s been let out. It’s beautiful, to me at least.”

Though corny, you can’t make yourself look away from her, “Yeah, it is.”

When she turns slightly to look at you, you see the blush on her face.

“Listen, I know tonight has been horrible, and that you won’t be okay for a long time.”

“Right…?”

————

There’s so much I can show and give to you, if you will welcome me tonight

————

“I want to help you through it, but you have to know this first.”

You tilt your head, looking at her curiously. She takes in a deep breath, sighing it out.

“I’ve wanted to be with you for a very long time, and sometimes I’ve thought you did too. I want you to know this so that you’re fully aware of where I’m coming from. I want you to know…so you don’t feel pressured to reciprocate my feelings.”

Your eyes widen, and you feel your pulse quicken.

She continues, “If that’s alright with you, I’d like to kiss you. If we do kiss, though, I don’t want to be a rebound. I don’t want to be your distraction, or your way to get back at her.”

When you continue staring, she leans close to you.

“If at any point you want me to stop, then tell me to stop, okay?”

When you nod, she presses her lips to yours, and it’s like the whole world pauses around you. It feels urgent and eager like the last kiss you’d shared with Mikasa, but it feels more caring. In comparison it feels less like she’s pulling from you, like Mikasa had been, and more like she’s giving to you. As though she’s breathing new life into your heart after it’d been broken.

You pull back for air, and your eyes and heart soften when Annie looks panicking for a second. You cup her cheek before she can start apologizing. You look at her sadly.

“Annie, I’d love to give you a chance, but I don’t know if we can survive the distance, you going to Marley and all.” At that she laughs, and the sound makes your heart swell. When she starts speaking again, it’s with a deep blush that goes down her neck.

“Y/N, this is gonna sound really desperate, but I tried my hardest to graduate early so I could spend more time here, with you.”

“Oh Annie, that’s so romantic.”

She hides her face in her hoodie, “Shut up.”

You move your hand to grasp hers, doing the same with your other hand.

“Annie, if you’d be willing to let me sulk for a few weeks, I’d be more than happy to go on a date with you.” She looks at you, a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

“I’m not gonna waste this, Y/N. I promise.”

————

You think of Mikasa, and what she meant to you. You wonder what you meant to her, because she was always hard to read, her eyes betraying nothing but in rare instances.

You look at the usually stoic Annie Leonhardt. Tears pouring, with a smile bright enough to rival the sun itself even in the cold, dark night. You can see how she looks at you.

You see the love in her eyes, and it makes you smile back.

#annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhardt x you #annie leonhart x reader

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