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lovesickeros · 8 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #focalors #furina #dont ask what happened here idk #this was. also supposed 2 be neuvi focused and then i.#dont talk 2 me abt focalors i wont ever shut up #got a 300k word essay on hand abt how i feel abt her character/how i interpret her personality and her story #focalors jsut like me fr fr (cries at the slightest inconvenience or the slightest mean comment)#shes so pathetic girlfail im gonna chew on her #what happens when reader gets stuck with two emotionally repressed french bastards?? hell #neuvi is the “emotionless” flavor of emotionally repressed in that hes HORRIBLE at showing emotions at all #ask him to smile and its incredibly unnerving and theres too many teeth but hes trying his best please call him pretty or he will cry :(#furina is the flavor of emotionally repressed where she makes it up by having Too Many emotions #using theatrics and masks to show everyone what they want to see but inside this girl is a MESS #constant anxiety and panic 24/7 #will do random shit and look at you and if u dont compliment her she will think u hate her and cry #compliment her and she'll do even stupider shit to try and impress you more #i love my scrunkly little babies they r so stupid and mentally ill someone get these bitches some THERAPY #i want 2 put them under a microscope #watch this be ooc fr furina when more of her lore drops if shes not girlfail im leaving #anyway see u in a week im going on a trip ill get back 2 u in 6-7 business days

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signedeclipse · 11 months

Note

Please could i request a oneshot of Haganezuka meeting and falling in love with a hashira reader (Tanjiro’s older sibling) 💙💙

One More Time [Haganezuka X Reader]

Reader is Human Gender Neutral | Fluff + Romance

Recomended Song - Rather Be by Clean Bandit

It wasn't his first sword delivery, but Hotaru had never been assigned to a slayer permanently before, having only made swords for beginners of the corps or for practice, since most upper ranks in the corps chose older, more seasoned nichirin swordsmiths.

Part of him was excited, being able to tend to an individual's abilities and forge something more unique, as opposed to the clear cut ones most starter blades were.

The other part was frustrating, because it wasn't for anyone unique, no one had specifically chosen him, just a random assignment since all the others had enough to care for. Still, he tried to feel grateful that this was a chance at becoming more reputable.

He remembered his first encounter with the Kamado, the excitement at the idea of a red blade, the disappointment that followed.

It all loomed over him now that the Kamado name had long since grown. It was hard not to recognize such a unique family; a demon, one of the fastest-growing slayers, and the sun hashira. While he wasn't one to take back his words so easily, he was reminded by the chief to bite his tongue the next time he tried mouthing off to the family.

But luck had not been on his side.

When news got back to him that Tanjiro had broken his blade for the second time, Hotaru felt a mix of anger and shame.

Anger that once again his craftsmanship had not been enough, and shame at the idea that it'd likely happen again were he not more careful.

The idea flashed across his mind that his failure twice in a row might mean he would lose Tanjiro as a client of sorts, or that he would be forced to resign from being a swordsmith, so he avoided confronting or contacting him in favour of preparing himself to make the best blade imaginable.

There he was, as the sun had barely begun to rise and the sky was a mid-blue hue, casting the village and its surroundings in a cool tone. Though he slept soundly, he woke up before anyone else got the chance so he could get a head start on his exercises, which gave him time to ponder how long he had before Tanjiro came to him instead.

"So, you must be Haganezuka."

The voice almost startled him from his perch atop a cliffside, though he barely showed it besides the clenching of his fists. The voice was entirely unfamiliar, though before he could turn to look at them their presence had moved.

"Is that a yes?" You were to his right, which he turned to finally meet the individual who had managed to find him.

While still taken back by the speed at which you had moved, he was also very surprised to see the same maroon eyes as Kamado, except it was clear that you were no Tanjiro.

"Well, I'm sure you've realised who I am, but you can just refer to me as Kamado."

Hotaru had not expected your presence in the village, had you been sent in place of your brother?

"I don't have a blade ready yet." Haganezuka had bowed his head slightly. He could run and be stubborn all he wanted, but Hashira could be far more harsh in punishment.

"Blade? I'm not- no-" You had let out a string of laughs, facing away from him and covering your mouth to suppress the giggles. He looked so worried! Even if you hadn't seen his face, the atmosphere around him had certainly dropped.

"It's his first time in the village, I couldn't miss it! Well, that and my swordsmith will be retiring, so I'm here to meet some of the newer generations and pick someone I feel is capable. I was never a fan of blind recommendations." While you spoke, Hotaru had straightened out his posture and looked back out at the village, the sun now growing the area with orange rays.

You were very relaxed, and far more talkative than any hashira he had met, so any intimidation he felt melted away, especially considering you weren't here to scold him.

"Anyways, I hope you give my little brother a hard time, sometimes I think he gets it too easy because of his kindness, and he needs to be ready to combat issues that aren't life-threatening..." Judging by your words, you hadn't seen Haganezuka chasing after your sibling with knives, which relieved him.

Still pouting from his faulty blades, he kept silent, deciding he didn't want to say much if more to prove a point for himself.

By the time he glanced to his right again, you were long gone, with nothing but the imprint of where you sat left in the grass.

The next time he saw you, you were with Kanamori, who held two nichirin blades that had seen better days.

Having been found by Tanjiro and been given the blade he was to repair, Hotaru was on his way to eat and prepare for the gruelling 72 hours worth of work he had ahead of him.

Despite the raging inspiration he felt, you had stopped him dead in his tracks, pulling all the air from him until he felt weak again. Hotaru hadn't realised how much he'd hoped to see you again, and you were still here.

"Ah, have you met my good friend, Haganezuka?" Kanamori motioned to the taller swordsmith, who you noticed now had a wide hat fit with chimes...and his upper torso was revealed, the rest of his clothes wrapped around his waist.

You nodded, smiling and waving to the surprisingly well-built swordsmith, trying to hide your rosy cheeks with a smile.

"I have, but, it's a long story." Shrugging your shoulders, Kanamori hummed pleasantly, before returning to a slow strive towards his workshop, pulling you along considering your arms were linked.

Apparently, Kanamori had experience with dual blades, so you had chosen him for his kind personality and experience since you were a dual wielder.

Before you had entirely left, you turned to look back at Haganezuka, throwing a thumbs up.

"You better make sure this one doesn't break!! I'm trusting you!"

Of course, he would have to make the best blade he could manage, for Tanjiro; if not to prove himself as a worthy swordsmith, then to impress the eldest Kamado.

Author Note - For some reason this took me so long to write I get procrasinating but WE GOT ER DOWN!!! Thank you for requesting <3

Word Count - 1,058

Art Credit - Kimetsu No Yaiba (2019)

#haganezuka #haganezuka x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny oneshots #oneshot #x reader #reader insert

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kai-malewife · 1 year

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A Lazy Saturday Morning

Alhaitham x gender neutral!reader

Summary: There is no better place to wake up than in his arms. Shrouded in his scent, intoxicated by his warmth, nothing feels more like home than your lover, Alhaitham.

Warnings: None, just sickingly sweet morning fluff with our favorite scribe <3

Cross-Posted on Ao3 @ Zhonglis_cake_saves_lifes

Link here!

Not too proud of this fic, might edit it later!

It is to the sound of lively twittering that you rouse from your peaceful slumber, stirred to consciousness by the carefree melody of the early morning birds. The sun had already risen, as warm, golden rays filter through the blinds, casting streaks of light across the room and onto your lover.

Alhaitham, sprawled out next to you on the bed, winces faintly in response to the fierce gleam prompting him to awake in turn. His hold on your waist tightens and he buries his nose in your neck, breathing in your scent in a feeble attempt to cling onto any last remnants of sleep.

‘’Mornin’.’’ Your hand glides through his silver locks, voice permeated with drowsiness.

It elicits a mellow hum from him, and before long, quiet snores fill the room once more, calm and steady.

You simply cannot resist marveling at the serene expression on his countenance; his typically puckered brows now relaxed, mouth slightly ajar, and porcelain skin tinted in the enchanting morning glow.

The hand which was previously stroking his hair leisurely trails down, its thumb and forefinger now delicately tracing the curve of his face, flesh smooth beneath deft fingertips. The vision bearer quivers briefly at the touch, nevertheless he does not withdraw from it.

For such a prominent figure in the Akademiya, Alhaitham was by no means a morning person. On the surface, one might expect him to be an early riser, up by the first glimmer of dawn to make the most out of his day, given that he valued his precious time above all else. Truth be told, however, reality was otherwise.

All those lazy mornings spent in one another's embrace spoke for themselves; laced with loving pecks pressed on your temple and tender, lingering caresses that never failed to set your skin ablaze, occasionally resulting in either of you almost turning up late for work.

Minutes pass with the Scribe snuggled up to you, chest expanding and contracting against your own at a regular pace. But who can blame him? It's Saturday morning, and there's nothing scheduled for the day.

While you wish to loll in the comfort of his muscular arms for a little longer, surely any sign of fatigue has already worn off, and merely lying here, wide awake, was growing rather irksome. Instead, you opt to roll out of bed and get started on breakfast, hoping to greet your beloved with a cup of steaming hot coffee once he awakens.

You struggle to extricate yourself as silently as humanly possible from the iron grasp enclosing you, eventually succeeding only after strenuous exertion. Yet, much to your surprise, no sooner do you set foot on the floor than something pulls you back onto the cushy mattress.

‘’Mm… Don’t go…’’ Alhaitham splays out on top of you, allowing his weight to press against your body, effectively restricting your movements as he grumbles in the shell of your ear, still half asleep.

This scenario was hardly foreign to you, having occurred countless times in the past. A wry smile tugs at your lips as you find yourself engulfed in the warmth of your partner.

‘’Haitham baby, you’re heavy.’’

‘’I know.’’

It earns him a meek jab on the shoulder, which in turn draws an amused chuckle from him, one that you feel reverberating in his chest along with yours. You heave a defeated sigh, like you always do, and yield to your fate; ensnared in his affectionate grip until he finally decrees that It’s time for his daily caffeine fix.

‘’You’re unbelievable.’’

‘’Love you too, honey.’’

And perhaps this is not so bad after all.

Azur irises lock onto yours as you plant a final, chaste kiss on his forehead. And so, lulled by the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, an unexpected weariness resurfaces, gradually carrying you back to the land of dreams together with the one you love…

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham

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i984 · 1 year

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I Love You- Wait, What?

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: THIS IS CRACK, Ooc! Wednesday Addams, author kind of gave up on writing after the third perspective shift, honestly this fic is just a joke at this point, potion works weirdly here, stupid love confessions, panicked but low-key high! Wednesday Addams.

|Summary|: You ruin everything for Wednesday Addams, be it sleeping peacefully or good potion-making.

|A/n|: This might as well be titled "I Gave Up on Quality" with the pairing of Wednesday x @vorsdany . I am really sorry but also not really. I promise I write better fics than this.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A moron.

That's what you are.

"No, I'm pretty sure I put in the right stuff. Snake fangs and then lavender, right?" You scratched at your back while stretching your sore body as carefully as possible.

With the cauldron, textbooks, parchments, and various ingredients scattered across Wednesday's dorm room floor, you're pretty sure the girl will smack your head if you spill the potion in the making the second time.

Wednesday pointed at the procedure text in hand; you sighed as you leaned forward to read. Okay. Great. So you managed to mess up not only the order but also the name of the ingredients.

"Snake tail? Well- You know what? I can't help you make this mystery potion if you don't tell me what it's for."

"You were the one who insisted on being a nuisance, might I remind you," Wednesday scoffed as she crossed her arms, brows coming together at the disaster liquid filling the pot.

The potion glows a wine color, its light casting a shadow on the ravenette's tired face; the dark bags underneath her eyes compliment her overall corpse-like look. You wouldn't worry because somehow this appearance works a charm for her, except her behaviors have also resembled the living dead.

"Well, it's because you look like you can use some help-"

"I do not need help, especially not from you."

Wednesday didn't even look up as she said it, nose buried deep in whatever book she was reading. Why do you even bother to put up with her at this point?

"Fine! I'm leaving, then." No response.

If she is going to act like you don't exist, you might as well sabotage her top-secret project. Hands swiftly switching the marked lids of two flower jars—white periwinkle and phlox—you stand up and make your way across the room, heading for the door.

"Good luck, Wens." You throw her an open smirk you know she won't see before exiting the room.

You can't wait to see her fail.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday lets her body slump as soon as the sound of your footsteps recedes to nothing. The past week has been... restless. And she meant that quite literally. For some reason, her past vision invades her mind when she tries to subdue her consciousness.

With her eyes closed, the picture was as blinding as it is irritating, like daylight to her pitch-black heart.

It always started with a smile—that annoying smug one—plastered on a face she knew too well for her own liking. And then, echoes of laughter would haunt her, taunt her.

She hasn't let it go farther than that. She couldn't. If Wednesday is going insane, it'll be from the intense torture she befalls upon herself. Not from such unwelcomed twisted imageries that plague her mind.

"Descendamus somno sempiterno, donec corpus e carcere reviviscat." Wednesday speaks in her best Latin, fingers trembling as they throw the right ingredients into the cauldron.

She watches the liquid turn colorless—a telltale sign that it's successful—and sighs in relief.

Finally, her sleeping potion is ready.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You turn your head to the sound of a familiar booming voice calling your name across the cafeteria. Enid, the werewolf, approaches you with a daunting look on her face. How unusual.

"No bone-crushing hugs today?"

No response. Why is everybody ignoring your words?

"Something is really wrong with Wednesday."

You huff at her while you take a seat. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure she just kicked me out of your room half an hour ago." You grab a brownie from your plate and take a bite out of it. "That seemed pretty normal to me."

Enid raises her eyebrow at you knowingly. "Well, what did you do?"

"Nothing!"

A couple of heads turn both your ways. Suddenly, the ceiling looks very interesting. You can see Enid waving dismissively at the crowd from your peripherals. Face contorting in an apologetic look, you take another bite from your brownie.

"Anyway, she told me my sweater looks like a lunatic splattered their guts on it."

The piece of cake dropped off your mouth. "That means she's into your sweater," Enid raised her eyebrows speculatively as she handed you a tissue, "Did she just give you a compliment?"

"As a matter of fact, yes I did."

You and Enid jump at the chilling voice from behind you.

"Dude! You scared the heck out of me," you turn your head to see Wednesday holding a glass of red liquid. She looked drowsy—subdued almost.

"First of all, never call me 'dude' ever again," the ravenette seated beside you groggily, "and second of all, I thought I made a point that fear feeds my entertainment needs."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you do that-"

You take a pause. Enid immediately notices the look on your face.

"What? What's wrong?" The werewolf asked you in a hushed tone. The raven watches as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Did you just- Did she just-" You pull away from Wednesday in disbelief, "reply to the things I say?"

The girl in question only raises her eyebrow at you, the glass of pomegranate juice resting on her now red-stained lips. Then her brows slowly meet in the middle again, perfectly mirroring her look from earlier.

The glass produces a thud as Wednesday puts it down on the table. You and Enid share a look with each other. A concerned look. One of you has got to say something right now, and you aren't going to be the one to do it.

The sentiment is shared apparently because the blonde also has her mouth trapped shut.

Clankings of dishes. Chatter comes from the crowds. The room was far from silent, but for some reason, it was as if everybody was waiting for Wednesday's response. The tension thickens in the air as the girl turns to look at you, despair etched in her features.

"I need your help."

You take the last bite out of your brownie. The sweetness resembles something of a victory.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There must be something wrong with the potion; Wednesday figured out as much. She expected that after the drowsiness took over and her heartbeat slowed, she'd finally be able to shut her mind and get some much-needed rest.

But it was the opposite; while her muscles may have relaxed, the images flashed through her brain with newfound intensity.

The smug smile, the laughter that resembled screeching metal chains, the mischievous twinkle in those eyes- Oh, how those eyes dragged her feet through the corridors of Ophelia hall.

Nothing made sense anymore; Wednesday needed to find the source of her madness and stop whatever is happening at the very core.

She needs to stop you.

But not before throwing Enid a merry compliment along the way and giving Eugene a preposterous nickname.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Bee Man? That's what you came up with?" You're almost rolling on Wednesday's dorm room floor, hands coming to clutch your contracting stomach; if Wednesday doesn't kill you now, the laughter certainly will.

"Yes, but can we please focus on the task at hand?" The ravenette clenched her jaw, "You're supposed to be helping me find the problem with the potion-"

Boisterous cackles cut through Wednesday's words, and you swear you can see fumes coming out of her ears. "-not to laugh at a genuine, original nickname."

"Yes, but he asked you to give him a nickname and BEE MAN-" you wheeze uncontrollably, eyes tearing up at the absurdity of it.

If you knew changing one ingredient would've given you a very talkative and silly Wednesday Addams, you would've done so during potion class ages ago.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you what I did," you take a deep breath, hands coming to pick up one of the vials containing water-like liquid; eyes scanning the mystery messed up serum.

"But, only if you answer my questions first."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday was ready to whip out a dagger to your neck and make a new potion from scratch, but without identifying the real problem, she'd risk committing the same mistake again.

After all, she'd been meticulous in following the instructions. So it couldn't have been a mistake on her part.

Begrudgingly, she nods, bracing herself for whatever question you may throw her.

You flashed her a teasing smirk, and Wednesday could've sworn it was almost identical to the ones that haunted her every time she so much closed her eyes. A mere coincidence. That's all that is.

"All right, question number one," you cleared your throat before resuming, "Pineapple on pizza, yes or no?"

This threw Wednesday off. And as if you could read her mind, you added a quick, "and no, there's no significance to these questions. Just answer them as is."

Recalling the intense debate Enid has dragged her in with Yoko in the past, she thanked her roommate internally for the fact that the werewolf has basically force-fed her the food.

A simple 'yes' slides out Wednesday's mouth, and you move on to the second question—still with that annoying smirk plastered on your face.

"The second question. Mint chocolate ice cream for dessert, yay or nay?"

"Yes."

"Beep-boop, that's not the proper answer to my question. You have two more chances of getting this correct!"

Wednesday feels her face scrunch in exasperation, "I thought you said there's no signi-"

"One more chance until you're disqualified! Please choose your words carefully," you wiggled your eyebrows at her, and it took everything in Wednesday not to smash the spare potion vial at your face.

"Yay. The answer is yay."

"Yay, indeed!" you make a grand gesture by lifting your hands in the air, "Onto the next question. Which one do you put in first; cereal or milk-"

"Milk. It's milk. Next question please."

"Ohoho, eager are we?" you stand up and grab the textbook Wednesday had used earlier for the potion-making instruction. Now Wednesday has all her attention on you, eyes narrowing in laser focus as anticipation for your upcoming words.

"Finally! The most important question of this compatibility test, and no matter your answer, I'll tell you what you desire to hear most!"

Your fingers tap and dance on the book's cover—imitating the sound of drumrolls—and Wednesday almost mauled you then and there if not for your question;

"You, Wednesday Friday Addams, have a crush on me, yes or no?"

The ravenette surprisingly sinks in an internal debate at this.

Just say no. It wouldn't matter. You'll know why the sleeping potion doesn't work after this. Just say no. What is stopping you? It's so easy. The answer is no. Just say-

"Yes, I do."

What?

No, no, no, no. This can't be. Correct yourself. Say-

"I do have a crush on you."

The book you're holding dropped to the floor. Wednesday looks up to see your mouth gaping, eyes darting all over her face as if you're looking for a sign of her joking.

But there was none. There was just a surprised look shared between the two of you.

Wednesday quickly grabs her book and flips through the pages hurriedly.

The slip-ups, compliments, and the awful nickname. The love confession. Could it really be?

Wednesday's fingers slowed down as she reached a designated page, her eyes scanning the room to see two almost identical flower jars at the foot of her bed, only differentiated by a label stuck on the lid.

And when Wednesday caught your guilty face looking at it like her, she knew.

White Periwinkle and Phlox. The two kinds of flower that are similar in appearance but differ significantly as ingredients of a potion.

"A truth potion," You both breathed out into the room.

And you look at Wednesday; she's looking at you.

"So it's true then?" The shakiness in your voice surprised the two of you, forcing you to clear your throat for the second time in her room.

"It is what it is," Wednesday tears her gaze away from yours to the book in hand, covering her flushed face with the extent of her bangs.

"Unless we managed to mess up the truth potion too, then maybe-"

"No, no, no, no, because," you drop to the ground and kneel at the space in front of her, hands hurriedly opening the vial containing the liquid that had started it all. Wednesday panically looks at you now, and you smile at her before chugging the whole thing down.

"I have a crush on you, too."

And there it is in all your glory; bright smug smile, childish laughter, and mischievous eyes. It finally clicked for Wednesday that you—yes, you—are her eternal living nightmare. She'll make sure you pay the price for all her sleepless nights.

And it's not gonna be cheap.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

|A/n2|: I really am genuinely sorry, I promise I'll do better next time.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday series #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams icon #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x gn reader #spotify

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lvrsmg · 1 year

Text

something there pt. 4

minors do not interact! 18+ only!

pairing: assassin!mingi x assassin trainee!reader (gender not specified but reader is presumed to have a vagina)

part one: here!

part two: here!

part three: here!

theme: smut! crack for a second if you squint, fluff? a less angst in this

word count: 5.5k

cw: SMUT!! no specific terms are used but description of oral (reader receiving) is describe with a vagina, use of pet names (baby), praise, soft sex!, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!) but reader is on hearth control, mingi being soft dom (ish), i think swearing (let me know if i missed anything!)

lowercase intended!

a/n: so so so sorry for the late update: this is kinda rushed so i'll def me going back in and editing later this week! part 5 is coming but it might take some time! school has been eating me up : but please enjoy!!! as always, feedback & comments are always appreciated !!

enjoy 🩵🩵 !!

white. bright white, blinding lights that pierced through the thin skin of your eyelids, your throat emitting a small groan at the light.

you lifted your arm, bringing it up to shield your eyes, rubbing between your brows.

your arm felt like it weighed a ton, another groan coming from you.

but the light suddenly disappeared, shadow casting over your face.

you let your arm fall, blinking your rested eyes open and looking at the cause of the shadow.

a man with soft cheeks and smiling eyes beamed down at you. the black haired man resembled a puppy, looking far too happy.

“hi!” he chirped, still shielding the light, “i’m yunho!”

you nodded, slowly propping yourself up on your arms, which shook under your weight.

“woah- hey, alright!” the man, yunho, was quick to help you, adjusting your pillow as well, leading you up and back to rest against the headrest of the bed.

“where am i?” you quite literally croaked, clearing your throat and rubbing your eyes- which had finally adjusted to the light of the room.

“in the hospital wing, at the compound.” yunho had walked off now, rustling over at the counters.

“you’ve been out for two days now.” you blinked after he told you, rubbing your eyes again.

when you looked at him again, he handed you a glass of orange juice, as well as three pills.

you took them, looking at him in suspicion.

“they'll pick you up.” he assured, to which you shrugged, tossing the pills back and chasing them with the juice.

“you’ll need a week or so more to fully heal, but you’re good to walk around.” you watched yunho send a text, making himself comfortable by sitting on the bed beside you.

“oh. okay, thanks. is- is hongjoong upset?” you voice was small.

yunho looked at you, and smiled. he shook his head.

“you did a good job, we got the file! he just wants you to heal, alright?” yunho patted your shoulder.

you nodded hesitantly.

rather suddenly, the wing doors shot open, a dirty-looking mingi running in.

he ran up to your bed, panting, stopping further than you hoped.

“hey,” he spoke through heavy breaths.

he was beyond happy to see that you were okay- that you were alive. he hadn’t slept, and you could see that from the bags under his eyes.

your heart clenched as you took in the state of him.

his face was coated in what looked like a mix of ash and dirt, a cut across his left cheek bone was bleeding, his hair and clothes in a similar state of disheveledness- he had clearly just returned from a mission.

his eyes were glossed over, lips parted and glossy and letting out heavy huffs.

“hi,” you finally said, meeting his eyes.

yunho glanced between you two.

“ar- i’m glad you- you’re up.” he finally came to his senses, nodding. “hongjoong said good job for the mission. you did good.”

you nodded, and now you were the speechless one.

“why- why’re you going on missions already? i was only out for two days.” you looked away from his eyes, taking in- again- the state of his clothes.

maybe you were just making conversation, but mingi still basked in the way that you were almost worrying about him.

“oh, hongjoong just- the- it was an emergency mission.” he watched you watch him, not wanting to look away.

“oh.” you said, “just be- you should be careful, i don’t want you to- or, i mean, i think a lot of people don’t want you to get hurt, or something..” you stuttered helplessly, and mingi almost smiled.

his heart thumped loud in his ears. did you care about him, or was he delusional?

“this is hard to watch.” yunho muttered, making both you and mingi look at him.

“i’m heading out.. mingi, show y/n to a room. i’ll let you sort whatever this is out.” the older man shook his head, leaving the wing.

you and mingi wanted yunho leave. and then, as expected, silence.

you didn’t look at him again, but he looked at you.

he always looked at you.

“uh, you can take any room you want really, um, unless it’s on the 3rd floor, those are all taken.” mingi informed you.

you nodded, looking at your hands in your lap.

“you’ll be alone here, for the most part, the guys and i are all going out for targets most days, but i’ll- we’ll stop by when we can.” he adjusted his vest.

again, you nodded, no other words exchanged.

“i’m glad you’re okay.” he spoke so fast, you barely understood him. but he was out of the door before you could ask him anything further.

‘he’s glad i’m okay.’ you thought to yourself, fighting a huge smile.

mingi, on the other side of the door, bit his lip, trying to contain the equally huge smile gracing his lips.

“mingi, we’re heading out.” hongjoong’s voice scratched into his earpiece, and mingi shook himself out of his schoolboy mindset.

pressing down on the tech, he answered, “coming,” and jogged away.

not long after mingi had gone, you heard the muffled noise of a helicopter taking off, leaving you and your thoughts.

you only got out of bed a few minutes later, venturing around the compound, which was smaller than you thought, considering it had a whole hospital wing.

either way, it was a lovely house. lots of food, a cinema room, and you found yourself comfortable in one of the rooms on the second floor.

you couldn’t help but notice the slight mess around the compound, and decided to busy yourself cleaning that.

and did you ever clean.

originally a one-day plan, the project stretched over three days.

it was never terribly messy to begin with, but you cleaned as if it was, and left the compound literally spotless.

spotless as in under the couch, in the fridge, every sill, edge, crook and cranny that was around the house, leaving no place untouched. you cleaned all 4 guest rooms, all 6 bathrooms, the pool, you mowed the lawn and clipped the hedges. you even cleaned on top of the fridge.

it was the same routine everyday: wake up, eat frosted flakes and an apple, clean, order in lunch, clean, order in dinner, clean, eat ice cream, fall asleep in the cinema room. repeat.

you didn't sleep in the room assigned to you- it smelt too new, it felt cold and unwelcoming. like a hospital room.

so you opted instead to fall asleep to the smell of popcorn and the quiet buzz of a marvel movie.

on the third day, you conquered the bedrooms.

you did feel invasive, so you made sure to do a general clean, not touch anything personal or go into any drawers. each room had a nametag on the door, which you found adorable, and helpful.

you left mingi’s room for last, not really sure why you did, it was just instinct.

you pushed the door open, immediately being hit with the smell of his cologne. your muscles tensed, but not in a bad way. you made your way in, looking around his abode.

his bed was unkempt, a dark blue polka-dotted duvet thrown messily over the mattress wrapped in oddly plaid sheets, matched with floral pillows. you laughed a bit, wondering what was up with his strange choice of bedding, but shook your head, and collected laundry to clean.

you noticed the way his clothes were strewn everywhere, his floor had more clothes than his closet and dresser.

the walls were not decorated much, apart from some shelves with a couple books and plants, which you assumed were fake. you pulled open the long curtains from the window, light finally filling the room. along the window sill you noticed pictures of him and another boy who looked older than him.

‘a brother,’ you assumed, smiling.

the other pictures were one of him with his mom, another with the whole group, and you only recognized yunho and hongjoong, studying the faces of the others as well. you finally put the pictures down, feeling pleased to know that he did have some personality to him after all.

and, against your better judgment, you put the laundry basket down, deciding to look around a bit more.

you inspected all of his clothes, noticing they weren’t plain, boring clothes like you expected, but nice pieces.

he had a genuine sense of style- a smile fought its way onto your lips, making you hold up and look closer at his clothes.

if you had to raid anyone's closet, it would be his.

shaking your head, you tossed the dirty clothes into the laundry basket, jogging out of the room and to the laundry room.

it was strange, the odd connection you felt to his room. the weird magnetism you felt pull you to his room, tempted to stay in there, taking in his comforting smell.

‘ew. creepy, y/n.’ you shuddered at your own thoughts.

after running the cycles of clothes, you walked back to mingi’s room reluctantly, picking up trash, cleaning the window and mirror he had hung up. you replaced the mismatched sheets with coordinated blue ones, which were all varying shades of the color.

eventually, his room was clean but still homey, and you slipped out to finish the laundry.

thankfully, you had kept all the clothes separated, so you knew which clothes belonged in which room.

and again, after folding and returning the clothes to the right rooms, you left mingi’s room for last.

for a reason you couldn’t explain, you spent longer in his room, putting his clothes away with more care, hanging up his hoodies with a gentleness, making sure his shirts had no creases.

when you were done, you sat back on his bed, admiring your work.

the whole compound was finally clean, no dirtiness left in sight.

except you.

you had slightly forgotten to change out of the shirt and sweats you woke up in (you weren’t sure who changed you, but you ignored the fact for that moment), and you were filthy.

the final challenge was to clean yourself off.

you made your way down to the first floor, stopping by the hospital wing to grab a new bandage for your wound, and then to your room, where you stripped down in the openness of your own room, knowing no one else was home, and walking into the washroom, stepping into the shower.

managing to find a razor, face cleanser, body wash, and everything you might need for a shower, you stepped into the hot water.

you gave yourself an everything shower, shaving yourself down, scrubbing every joint and inch of your skin, deeply washing your hair, conditioning thoroughly, the whole ordeal.

you were careful around your wound, which had a waterproof bandage on it. you planned to clean and change that

when you finally stepped out, you felt cleaner than ever, patting yourself down and massaging lotion into your skin. you carefully peeled off the bandage on your abdomen, wincing at the wound, which was definitely healing, and very carefully cleaned over it with iodine and alcohol, placing the new bandaid securely over it.

tying your hair back, you finished smoothing lotion over the expanse of your skin, tapping yourself dry with the towel and securing it over yourself to stay concealed.

but then it hit you- you had no new clothes.

with a frown, you ventured out of your room in only your towel, padding upstairs, leaving wet footprints behind you.

it wouldn’t hurt to borrow mingi’s clothes, right?

right.

besides, he wasn’t here.

he wouldn’t know.

it would be washed and put away by the time he returned- whenever that might be.

so, that being said, you confidently sauntered into his room, pulling his closet open and shuffling around for some basketball shorts and a hoodie, which you found.

you smiled a little- this felt natural. going through his clothes to find something to wear instead of wearing your own clothes.

your smile grew at your delusions, imagining him getting all pouty and upset about you taking his clothes, but he would secretly love the way they hung off your frame, and preferred to see them on you than him.

your smile fell.

what the hell were you thinking?

you shook your head, covering your face.

“don’t be stupid, y/n.” you muttered.

you let your towel fall, pulling on mingi’s large clothes, adjusting the waist band of the shorts, and pulling the hoodie up over your head.

you let out a sigh, feeling finally clean and accomplished.

your next plan was to return to your room, or the cinema room.

…but did you really have to?

mingi’s bed was right there.

you slinked your way over, sitting on the clean, soft sheets.

and his room smelled just like him.

you slowly lifted the covers, slipping under them.

and it would be back for your back if you fell asleep half-sitting again, right?

tugging the covers up to your nose, you let out a yawn.

he wouldn’t mind- let alone know.

eyes becoming heavy, you blinked slowly, shuffling to get comfy.

this was good. this felt comfy. this felt like mingi.

another yawn broke across your face, your eyes staying shut.

he wouldn’t know. it’s fine.

before realizing, you had drifted into a deep sleep, your breaths slowing and your body relaxing after 3 days of hard work.

you woke up in the same bed, a smile gently gracing your lips. the smell was nice. the smell of mingi.

a slight groan fell from your lips as you stretched, rubbing your eyes before opening them, lifting your head a bit, ensuring you were still in mingi’s room.

you were, indeed.

and nothing had changed. the cleanliness, the soft touch of the duvet, the feel of mingi’s clothes on your form.

you sat up, stretching your arms up again.

you glanced out of the open windows, which were uncovered by curtains, and saw the moon high in the sky, rain falling heavy and hard against the window- you had slept longer than intended.

but the sound of the rain was nice. just perfect silence.

complete solitude.

and then you saw it.

despite your vision being blurry with sleep, you saw it.

a person, coming into the room.

feeling against the wall and flicking on the light.

you screamed bloody murder.

the person let out a yelp.

you sprung out of bed, grabbing the nearest object- an alarm clock, in this case, and chucking it at the person with no hesitation, who caught it.

“get out! you- you’re trespassing!” you were quite disoriented, fumbling to grab anything to throw at the person, which included a fake succulent, two pillows and a book.

it was embarrassing to see a (newbie trainee) assassin act this way.

you sprung the closet open, fumbling around for something to throw at the intruder, eventually finding a belt.

you raised your hand before you turned, but when you did, your wrist was caught in action.

“y/n.” the person spoke in an alarmingly deep voice.

an oddly familiar deep voice, at that.

“wh- huh?” you blinked, rubbing your eyes again.

after squinting and adjusting to the light, the person- a man- came into clear view.

“oh.” you said.

“yeah,” said mingi, “oh.”

you looked at him for a few seconds longer before yanking your arm out of his grip, standing upright again.

“what’re you doing here? you can’t just appear like that. it’s creepy.” you cleared your throat, putting the belt down.

“what am i doing in my room..?” mingi glanced around a bit, ensuring that it was, in fact, his room.

you opened your mouth, gaping like a fish, but no words came from you.

mingi shook his head, taking in your frame, eyeing you up and down.

a smirk crossed his lips.

“wearing my clothes ‘n everything, look at you.” his tone made heat rush to your cheeks, avoiding his eyeline and crossing your arms as if trying to hide the hoodie.

“i didn’t have any clothes.” came your muttered explanation.

mingi nodded as if understanding, a smirk working its way onto his lips.

“ah,” he nodded again, “you got comfortable real fast, hm?”

you didn’t reply, staring at the ground with furrowed brows, scoffing a bit.

“hey,” his voice was suddenly serious, and his index and middle finger were tipping your head up before you could even register it. “i don’t mind it. ‘s cute.”

your mouth fell a bit open at the gesture.

“w- i- i’m-” you helplessly stuttered, the tiny touch of his fingers on your chin had sent you feeling.

you quickly pushed them away.

“i- i cleaned the whole place. i think i have rights to- to wear what i want.” you finally managed, stepping around the tall man, picking up the things you threw and putting them back in their respective places.

mingi turned to watch you. the way you fit right into his room pulled at his heartstrings, why did you have to look like you belonged there?

you stepped away from the bed, looking at mingi.

“why’re you here, anyways? where are the others?” you took in his oddly casual outfit, he was dressed in big black jeans and a loose leather jacket, and the way he wore his clothes made you giddy for a weird reason.

“they’re still out. they said someone had to stay home with you ‘cause they wont be back for a couple days.” he explained, setting down his duffle bag.

“a couple days? what?” you panicked slightly at the fact, “like, just me and you? alone?”

mingi nodded.

your heart skipped a beat.

was this a curse or a blessing?

why didn’t he seem as bothered as you were?

why wasn’t he panicking?

“okay well, just don’t- don’t mess up my cleaning.” you ordered, staying safe and at distance at the door.

“this is literally my home.” he mumbled under his breath, removing his leather jacket, leaving himself in a simple black tee, and you cursed yourself for the way your eyes followed the strong build of his arms, and ran across the expanse of his shoulders.

you looked away when he turned back around, suddenly finding the door frame very interesting.

mingi hid his smile.

“i need to go to sleep, so you should go.” he waited for you to leave.

you sighed on the inside. back to the damn hospital looking room.

“i was going anyway. not to sleep, i- i’m going to watch a movie.” you told him as if he cared.

“great. turn off the light on your way out.” he began pulling his shirt off, and you were quick to run out, flicking the light off as you jogged down the hall.

you let out a breath.

so did mingi.

while you made your way down to the cinema room, mingi stared at the place where you had been sleeping as he changed into his boxers, letting a small smile grace his lips.

it was weird.

you slept on the right side of the bed, but mingi’s side was always the left side.

a few minutes passed, both of you so close to each other, but also so far.

the rain carried on, thunder rolling slightly.

you tensed. so did mingi.

it was easy to ignore the thunder. until it grew, getting louder and angrier with each loud booming clap.

mingi saw the flashes of lighting from his window.

and for some reason, he suddenly hated how empty his bed suddenly felt.

meanwhile, you hated how strongly it smelt of popcorn in the cinema room. you hated how the thunder seemed to shake the room.

you glanced at the empty seat beside you, staring at the red velvet material.

mingi stared at the mattress, where the sheets were ruffled a bit and the right side pillow at a dip in it.

you nibbled a nail.

mingi gnawed his lip.

‘he wouldn’t mind, right?’ you thought.

‘would she think that it’s weird?” he thought.

the thunder crashed louder than before, making you jump.

you stood from the cinema seat, pacing around the platform, really thinking if you should go join him.

mingi stood as well, walking around his, now clean, room. he quickly tugged on a large shirt

you stared at the door.

he stared too.

another clap of thunder, somehow louder than the last.

simultaneously, you both opened the doors of your rooms, mingi to the cinema room, and you to his room.

mingi’s strides were long, no hesitation.

yours mirrored his, you knew what you wanted.

you both met, him at the top of the stairs, and you at the bottom.

you looked up at him, and him down at you.

“i-”

“i’m-”

you both spoke at the same time, both stopping at the same time as well.

silence fell.

“it’s cold, um, in the cinema room.” you explained.

“oh.” said mingi. “is it?”

you nodded.

“do you have an extra blanket?” you asked.

mingi nodded.

“you should come get it.” he offered.

you nodded, hurrying up the stairs and jogging up to him, standing closer than you really needed to after another boom of thunder shook the compound.

instinctively, you grabbed his arm, holding tight.

mingi looked at your hand around his arm. as did you.

a second passed, and you let go quickly, but didn’t back up.

no words were exchanged before mingi led the way to his room, pushing his door open.

you followed him in, feeling thankful that the light was on.

“uh, the extra blanket, right?” he spoke looking at you.

you went to nod, but the sound of thunder and quick flash lightning interrupted you, making you jump again.

then, a buzz, and the lights turned off.

you grabbed mingi’s hand, and his hand wrapped around yours.

“why don’t you just- let’s just sleep here, okay? both of us.” you could hear the voice, and you nodded before remembering he couldn’t see you.

“yes- yeah. good thinking.”

mingi led you to his bed, you immediately slid into the right side, and him to the left.

your touches parted for a moment, before you found each other again, like gravity was pulling you together, your hands tangling together as a newfound inclination.\

neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the loud noises of the storm rolling over outside.

“are you scared?” you whispered after the silence.

“no.” mingi whispered back, lying right through his teeth.

you didn’t answer.

“are you?” mingi inquired.

your hands gripped his a little tighter.

“just a little.” came your response.

silence.

mingi’s free hand snaked around your waist, pulling you close into him, making you both end up chest to chest.

almost naturally, your limbs tangled together comfortably,

both your hands were holding onto his one, his left hand was resting on your back, his thumb rubbing up and down softly.

“it’s okay, it’s just a storm.” he rested his chin on your head, you inched your face closer into his chest.

“okay.” you whispered.

it was laughable, two deadly assassins tangled together in fear of a simple thunderstorm and a power outage.

neither of you slept, both just waiting for the storm to pass.

but you spoke first.

“mingi?” your voice was a little above a whisper now.

“mm?” he answered. you felt the hum in his chest.

“what did that mean in the hotel? that morning a couple of days ago?” his heart dropped.

he didn’t answer, but he could feel your heart rate increase.

you felt his go up too.

“and on the hood of the car after you got shot?” you pushed further.

“i don’t know,” he swallowed, “what do you want it to mean?”

mingi and your eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, both of you could make out the soft outline of each other's faces.

you looked up at him.

he looked at you.

“i want it to mean something.” you told him.knm

“something?” he breathed.

“anything.” the words came out as a plea, almost as if you were begging him to confirm he felt what you did- whatever that might be.

and he did.

his head dipped and his soft lips pressed against yours, merging together in perfect harmony, no waiting, no hesitations and no interruptions.

it was and it was real.

it was everything all at once. it was his hand soft on your cheek and both your breaths increasing in speed and heaviness at once.

he lifted his upper body, hovering over you, the duvet and sheets messing up.

your lips didn’t break, not even for air. your hands were all over him, his roaming you.

you ran your hands up his neck, tangling them in his fiery locks, goosebumps rising in the wake of your fingers.

“tell me to stop if you need to stop.” he spoke into the kiss, and you nodded.

“you too.” your breath was heavy.

mingi’s hands lifted his shirt off, your lips breaking, but you latched onto him as soon as you could, sitting upwards.

he helped you out of his hoodie, hands dragging down the expanse of your torso as you tossed the hoodie away.

his lips kissed down along your chest, down to your naval, hand hands gently laying you back down.

“mingi,” you sighed his name, hands tangling back into his hair.

he hummed in response.

his fingers hooked around the waistband of his shorts you were wearing, looking up at you.

“please.” you whined, nodding.

he slipped you out, leaving you open and spread for him- just for him.

“so pretty,” his voice was like a purr, his lips burning against your already hot skin.

the storm was forgotten outside, both of you hyper fixating on each other.

his kisses went from your belly button, down, down, down.

you whined and squirmed, his hands gripping your waist to keep you still.

“stay still for me, y/n.” he was so demanding, so soft but so firm.

you bit your lip, nodding, doing your best.

he pressed a kiss against your clit, finally, and your head rested back from the flowers rising in your tummy from the kiss.

“mingi,” you were out of breath, his name was like a chant, falling from your lips over and over.

the next touch against your core was his tongue, a long and slow drag, your hands tightened in his hair, earning a groan from him, sending vibrations up through you.

your hips threatened to buck up, but one of his hands kept your pelvis held down, the second slipping into your hole, two fingers at once.

your back arched up off the bed in pleasure, a loud moan tumbling from your lips.

his tongue was all over you, in all the right places, inside, around, over, everywhere, and his fingers followed.

“so good, you’re so good for me.” he muttered against you, and you nodded, babbling nonsense, begging for more.

you dared to lift your head and look down at him, and god a new wave of wetness gushed over you at the sight of the man between your thighs.

his nose was slick, the lower half of his face wasn’t visible- buried deep into you. but his eyes, his eyes stared dead into you, not breaking away. dark and unwavering, he absolutely devoured you, watching your eyes roll back and face contort in pleasure.

you sounded as delicious as you tasted, loud, full moans of yours filling the room, whimpers and whines working their way in between every now and then.

“‘m so- ‘m close, mingi, pease- hnng..” you barely managed to warn him, feeling the knot tighten impossibly in your stomach.

“c’mon, baby, for me.” his voice rolled over you, and the knot snapped before you could stop it, a high pitched whine falling from you.

his slick-coated fingers worked their way into your mouth, you greedily sucked your own juices off of him, and he watched, freeing in absolute awe for a long moment.

“so good, aren’t you?” he praised, pulling his fingers away from you, and tugging off his boxers. his hard-on sprung free, long, thick, leaking and so red that it looked painful. his level of self control was impressive.

“n-no,” you whimpered when he pulled off, sitting up fast and reaching for him immediately.

“‘s okay baby, ‘m here. you okay to take me, hm? can you do that?” his tone had you reeling, nodding fast, already ready for him again.

“please, mingi, please.” your eagerness was nothing but a turn on for him, knowing you were just as willing as him was going to make him go feral.

he hovered over you again, kissing you again, and your hand went down to wrap around his length. he shuddered under your touch, arms almost giving out.

“‘s so big, min.” you spoke into the kiss, gently running your hand up and down, running your thumb over the tip.

mingi inhaled sharply, pulling away from the kiss.

“condom- i dont have a condom.” his eyes were filled with only worry, but you pulled him back in quick, engulfing him in another kiss.

“‘m on the pill.” you assured him, and he only kissed you harder.

he lined himself up slowly, his tip poking at your hole, and you clenched around nothing yet.

“go slow.” you leaned your head back as he kissed down your neck, feeling his nod, and he slowly pushed into you.

your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and his brows furrowed in pleasure, a moan coming from him at the tightness of your warmth.

“mingi,” his name was a whimper, and he pushed further in.

“‘m here baby.” he assured, wincing in pleasure at your nails digging into his back, gripping on for dear life.

“a-all the way, please.” you begged, and he complied, pushing into the hilt.

you had never felt so full, ever, and you let your head fall back, a low moan escaping you.

he moved nice and slow at first, keeping his lips connected on you, but his speed and rhythm picked up easily, his hips snapping fast against yours.

you became a babbling mess again, and he listened, loving the way you looked, felt and sound.

you were two sweaty bodies, held close together like your lives depended on it, not daring to let go.

“fu- fuck, baby,” mingi groaned, “god, y/n,”

it was messy but it was real. it was rough but it was meaning filled- it was everything and nothing at once.

mingi felt himself getting closer, the fucked out look on your face didnt make it easier for him to hold on.

“y/n, i-” he interrupted himself with a moan.

you nodded, knowing what he meant.

“m-me too.”

he sped up, his grip on your waist would definitely bruise, and the scratch marks you left would last just as long as a bruise.

“cum f-for me, baby, c’mon, for m-me.” his hips stuttered.

“‘m there.” you bit your lip hard, head falling back.

your organsms hit you both at the same time, pulsing through both your cores.

his lips met your again, kissing you through it.

mingi slipped out when his lips left yours, almost collapsing on top of you, but managing to move to the side in time.

your fast and heavy breaths were all that sounded for a long time, your body was worn out, and as was his.

but he still stood, shuffling to the washroom, rummaging around in the dark.

you turned to your side, watching him do whatever it was he was doing.

the next minutes were a blur, but mingi came and picked you up, letting you go pee in the bathroom, helping clean you up and get back into his clothes, picking you back up, and placing you on the floor while he changed the sheets..

you watched him do all this, feeling back for not helping, but also enjoying the domesticity of it all.

he finally picked your back up, laying you on the clean sheets and getting in beside you, you on the right side and him on the left.

your eyes were heavier now, and all you felt was him, his skin, and his heartbeat.

“y/n?” you heard his words in his chest.

you hummed in response.

he didn’t answer.

you lifted your head to look at him.

he simply smiled a bit, kissing your forehead.

“nothing. goodnight.”

you would’ve questioned him, but you were too tired at that moment.

letting yourself curl further into him, and shutting your eyes, you were out like a light before you knew it.

mingi stayed up, a smile permanently staying on his lips.

he didn’t know what it was about you- he barely knew who you really were.

but he knew something was there.

this didn’t happen for no reason.

there was a reason you met.

there was a reason why the universe chose you for him.

and he was going to find out.

#atiny #hongjoong #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #mingi #ateez crack #yunho x reader #smut #mingi fluff #mingi x y/n #mingi smut #song mingi #lvrsmg #mdni

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perpetualcynicism · 1 year

Text

…𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: In which you seek refuge in the shade on a particularly hot day at the Akademiya. …𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Fluff. …𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: None. …𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑: 2,781 words. …𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: Gender-neutral reader, scholar!Cyno.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝙱𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

If there was one word you could use to describe the weather right now, it would be sweltering.

The afternoon sun rode high amidst the cloudless expanse overhead, burning the sky a vivid blue. Its glare was almost as relentless as the heat it beat down towards the city below. Waves of heat rippled over street stones and horizon alike as though the air itself was trembling beneath the sun’s cruel assault. The streets themselves were near blinding to look at, reflected light blazing off white stone.

The few folk in the streets moved sluggishly, clothes damp with sweat and hair clinging to skin tanned to the point of burning, though the wiser of Sumeru City’s residents had stayed indoors. A few stall vendors called half-heartedly here and there to the occasional passerby, voices layered thick with fatigue. From where you were sitting, about halfway up the Divine Tree, everyone seemed to look a lot like slow flies drunk on spilt snake wine, too heavy to fly.

Truth be told, you wouldn’t be surprised if the Pyro Archon had declared war on you without you knowing.

Beneath the thick shadows cast by the branches of the Divine Tree, however, you were faring better than most. You were sat beside a small pond and leaning back on the Tree’s moss-dappled trunk. A veil of steam hung across the water’s surface, pale wreaths of evaporation rising from the pool and licking the lily pads bobbing above. The water cooled its surroundings, a little, and paired with the shade, made the heat a little more bearable.

Nonetheless, you were still too hot for any real work; a notion which all the Akademiya students shared, judging by how many clusters of friends were milling aimlessly around the Akademiya facilities. In fact, there were so many that a dense crowd had gathered inside to escape the heatwave, meaning it was a choice of being crushed between bodies and noise or the crippling weather. You’d taken your chances with the latter, and the choice had proven to serve you decently well, so you weren’t complaining.

Instead of studying, your nose was buried in a book you’d borrowed from the House of Daena beforehand. Though the atmosphere was pleasant for reading in— it was quiet out here, with only a few trilling insects or songbirds for company— the slow, dozy mood of the city and the stagnancy in the air was gradually taking effect, and you often found your mind drifting from the contents of your book. The pressing heat made your eyelids heavy, your head sink, your nose dip downwards. It took more and more effort to rein your attention back each time.

You yawned widely and blinked your eyes to keep them open. Perhaps your recent workload was finally catching up with you… Stifling another yawn, you returned to the book, skimming over the text and barely registering the words on the page.

…And so, Shirin once again found the perfect opportunity for revenge in the vassal king's unfettered fear.

One night, she disguised herself as a divine princess of the temple to the moon goddess and met…

As your eyes glazed listlessly over the passage, you were distantly aware of your head beginning to loll and your eyelids draw shut. The words on the page morphed into meaningless shapes and figures behind your eye sockets. Your hand slid from the book, and you found yourself relaxing, limbs growing heavy, slipping into the drowsy lull of sleep…

A light tap on your shoulder. Your head snapped up (painfully fast; you heard a crack somewhere in your neck), and you rubbed your eyes to adjust to the sunlight, before realising it was being blocked by something— well, someone. Staring down at you coolly were a pair of pretty scarlet eyes, sharp as ever, yet not with hostility. A brush of snowy hair swept out from under a dark hood and over one eye, framing a smooth face of deeply tanned skin.

Despite yourself, you felt your heartbeat accelerate.

“You fell asleep,” Cyno explained, very helpfully.

“Oh.”

There was a short pause. You were definitely not admiring his eyelashes in the silence.

Then, “May I join you?”

A eyebrow rose up your forehead in mock suspicion. “You want to sleep with me?”

Those pretty scarlet eyes blinked at you, unamused. You sighed and rolled your eyes, jokingly grumbling, “You’re no fun,” but gestured for him to sit nonetheless. He lowered himself beside you, ignoring the comment entirely. Once he’d settled down, you remarked, “You know, I thought it’d take more than a little heat to bring down the mighty scholar Cyno from his studies.”

The boy shrugged. “I’ve already got through most of my workload for this term. I thought I may as well find you.”

You hummed. Even though you were close, he didn’t strike you as the type to chase the company of others.

“Why me, though? Out of curiosity.”

He blinked, as though the answer was obvious. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You coughed, eyebrows shooting up your forehead before you hastened to tame your expression. Cyno furrowed his eyebrows in a puzzled sort of concern. You waved away his worry and cleared your throat, deigning to avert his attention from your warming face.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get swarmed by your fan club on the way here.”

He turned to you, head tilted. “‘Fan club’?”

“You haven’t heard?” Cyno shook his head. You sucked in a breath. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, about half the Akademiya has the hots for you.”

“…Oh,” he frowned.

“And I think some people are literally starting an official fan club about you, too.”

His frown deepened to a grimace, and he repeated distastefully, “Oh.”

“So, tell me; what’s the life of a celebrity like?” you teased. Cyno side-eyed you, but the look in his eyes was one of humour.

“If what you’re saying is true, I don’t think I’ll enjoy it very much. Too many people lead to too much heat, after all; I think I’d need a real fan to keep both aspects at bay.”

You rubbed your forehead, exasperated. “Wow.”

“Thank you.”

Clearing your throat, you half-joked, “Would I be deemed worthy of such a role, by any chance?”

“I don’t know. Can you flap your hands fast enough to generate a breeze?”

“…I’ll get back to you on that part. But don’t worry: your fan club would still have to get through me first.” You placed a hand on your chest, hoping you were emulating some semblance of bravery. “I’ll fend off the fangirls if they get too stifling. And the fanboys. And… well, you know, everyone. Half the whole Akademiya, if need be.”

Cyno huffed a chuckle, and your heart did an involuntary somersault. It was always funny how your organs turned into acrobats when he was around. “As much as I appreciate your courage, I doubt you would last long against them if they amassed all their forces.”

“Then I’ll fall loyally in battle, like a true warrior,” you proclaimed, voice laden with melodramatic flare. Cyno flicked your forehead lightly.

“I’d rather not have to mourn you.”

A second silence settled over you as the jesting died away, filled by lazy birdsong. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but you found yourself fiddling with the hem of your robes and throwing apprehensive glances towards the boy beside you nonetheless. His straight face betrayed nothing he might have been thinking. Even after knowing him for so long, Cyno was still far from easy to read.

You thought about this, sometimes. His nonchalance. His straightforwardness. How matter-of-factly he could say such simple things and make your heart skip beat after beat. ‘I enjoy spending time with you.’ Said like it was the plainest thing in the world.

In truth, though, it was far from plain. Glancing at him now, he seemed completely indifferent to your company, and yet claimed to hold it so closely to him. Was he overstating what he felt? Understating it? For the life of you, you couldn’t be certain.

(Maybe, somewhere deep down, you knew that made you fall even harder for him.)

The next time you looked to him, his eyes slid over to you, as if he’d anticipated the glance you were throwing at him. Your gazes met. Though you were still in the shade, it felt like the sun had just blasted your face with heat. You tried to tear your eyes away but found them locked in place. His stare dug into your own, cutting right through you and behind the curtain of feelings you wouldn’t let him see. The rubies of his irises were sharp as facets of the gemstone itself, cold and striking and… gentle. Prying, but never too deep; the shards not sharp enough that they would cut you.

You hoped to the gods it wasn’t out of pity.

He knew. Of course he did.

Your tongue became lead in your mouth. Hiding your feelings from one as observant as him could never have ended well. An uneasy dread built in your gut, fears rising that he’d scorn you, or brush you off, or tell you that the company he enjoyed was that of a friend’s.

Knowing all he did, Cyno splintered the silence.

“By the way, what’re you reading?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Took took a second to steady your shock and reel back the spiralling thoughts you’d been drowning in moments before.

To answer his question, you closed the book to display the front cover, which read in a curling font, ‘The Tale of Shiruyeh and Shirin: Volume II’. Cyno leaned slightly closer as he read it (his shoulder brushed yours now), and he made an ‘ah’ sound.

“I’ve read the first volume, but not the second. Is it any good?”

“Yeah, it is good, actually. I can give it to you once I’m done if you want to read it,” you offered. He dipped his head in silent thanks.

“I would appreciate that.”

Re-opening the book to your page, you yawned widely, raising a hand over your mouth. You didn’t notice the way Cyno was studying you more closely, observing the faint shadows circling your eyes. He pressed his lips together in displeasure, almost unnoticeably.

“You’re tired,” he said. “Why?” The undertone of concern in his voice ran so subtle that you didn’t even detect it. In fact, the question came across a touch brash, but it bothered you little; you’d long since grown used to the blunt manner of his speech.

“I haven’t been sleeping that well,” you admitted after a second’s pause, fiddling with the page of your book. “Y’know. Workload and that stuff. But it’s fine, so… yeah.”

Though Cyno hummed in understanding, the slight crease of his brows told of his concern. He knew you, and he knew what you were doing; understating that which was troubling you to brush off your struggles. It was a habit of yours he’d resolved long ago to try and change, but his attempts had yet to reap results.

“If there is anything you need assistance with…” he prompted.

“Nah, it’s fine. I can handle it.” You glanced towards him. “Thanks for offering, though.”

He suppressed his sigh. “Very well.”

“Now, shh,” you hissed, pressing a finger to your lips, and pointedly gestured to your book. “I’m reading.”

Cyno rolled his eyes, but complied nevertheless. While you read in silence, he looked towards you now and again. He didn’t know why, but there was something he found oddly endearing about the way you smiled or shook your head in response to whatever was happening in the text. Even more endearing was the slight lull of your head, dipping down and back up again as you fought with yourself to stay awake.

As he watched your continuous battle with sleep and heat (one you seemed to be slowly losing), part of him— perhaps a larger part than he’d like to admit— wished to soothe that drooping head into sleep and ease away the stubborn claim you made of ‘being fine’.

It seemed that he wouldn’t have to wish for long, however, because a moment later, the former principle delivered itself right into his lap (or his shoulder, to be precise).

Book still lying open across your legs, your eyes had closed, quiet sighs passing through the slight opening of your mouth, finally surrendered to the rest you so needed. A mumble slipped past your lips and Cyno felt a weight on his shoulder as your head dropped by an inch, coming to lean against his collarbone.

His eyes widened by a fraction, breath caught in his throat. Warmth flushed across his neck. A thrill fluttered through his stomach. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and he winced at the all-too-sudden dryness of his mouth. Could you hear his heartbeat? he wondered, painfully aware of the thundering inside his ribcage.

What did he do now? Stay in this position? No, your head was practically hanging from your shoulders; that couldn’t be pleasant. Should he pull you closer? But what if that woke you? Maybe… maybe he should adjust you slightly. So you were more comfortable. …Would you have been comfortable with this if you were awake?

Forcing out a long breath, Cyno expelled the growing mountain of worries from his mind. Then, keeping his torso as still as possible (he was holding his breath all the while; he dared not breathe too deeply, lest he disturb you), he raised a tentative hand to your chin, carefully repositioned your head to rest against his shoulder. Once there, he held himself completely motionless for one second. Two.

After a third, and after you hadn’t stirred, he finally permitted himself a sigh of relief— one which he released slowly, through his nose, keeping the fall of his chest as minute as possible. With his mission complete, Cyno glanced to you, and let his gaze linger there for a short while.

He took in the curve of your eyelashes, the slope of your nose. The line of your jaw and the shape of your lips. The way your hair shifted slightly in the tug of the breeze, and the feeling of it tickling his jawbone. How peaceful you looked in your sleep. The beginnings of a smile started to melt across the boy’s features. Even a fool could see that the way he looked at you— with eyes so soft and gaze deep as oceans at sunset— was warmer than the blazing sky could ever hope to be.

He turned his eyes away. Even in sleep, you deserved your privacy.

A large group of students walked by across the garden then, their shoes scuffing the stone tiles as they practically dragged his feet across the sun-baked floor. Wary, Cyno watched them stop and look around. One student’s eyes drifted over to where he was sat to find the scholar staring back with a barbed glare. The student’s face lit up when he recognised the orange-red irises of his idol, calling the other’s attention to his discovery. It promptly fell when he noticed the person dozing beside him.

The warning in Cyno’s eyes was clear: Don’t even try to come close.

Still, these students seemed to have some guts between them, and bunched tightly together, they shuffled towards your spot. Cyno’s eyes narrowed, all traces of warmth replaced with sharp, cool warning. The students tensed in turn as they felt scarlet crawling beneath their skin, scrutinising them, studying them, cutting like glass shards. Cyno stared each student down until they shivered despite the heat, shrank beneath the former’s gaze, and scurried swiftly away with their tails between their legs.

Watching them go, Cyno felt a hint of smugness glow in his chest. So much for that fan club. Then, satisfied with his success, he turned his attention back to you, who still slumbered peacefully by his side. The thorns in his eyes fell away. He shifted slightly, movements gentle when he rested his head atop yours. A few locks of snowy hair fell from his hood and kissed your jaw, feather-light. One strand landed across your face and you wrinkled your nose, scrunching up your eyelids. He brushed the strand away, murmuring apology under his breath, trying to ignore the way his heart was threatening to melt at your reaction.

And, sitting in the shade on a sweltering day, succumbing to the drowsy mood and the unrelenting heat, Cyno closed his eyes and slept.

(It was safe to say that yes, he did indeed enjoy your company, and by quite a bit at that.)

#genshin impact x reader #cyno #cyno x reader

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italoniponic · 1 year

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𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 - mini-project

Charming Eyes

Notes: based on this Cherry’s Harvesting request where Anon asked for Trey, Azul, Deuce and Floyd (and whoever else I wanted) to discover that Reader’s very dark-brown eyes (nearly black) could be actually brown if you shine light directly into it. And then they fall more in love with Reader~ I used Lilia instead of Trey and Azul at that time, so now they’re here too yay <3

Trey Clover, Azul Ashengrotto x gender neutral reader / fluff headcanons / reader has dark brown eyes / use of “you” pronouns

Earlier that day, Trey had invited you in Heartslabyul to try out an old Clover family recipe. He planned to present this recipe to Riddle in order to expand the menu options at the Unbirthday Parties — if the Queen of Heart’s rules allowed, of course. And since Trey wanted to spend time with you, he asked for your help;

One of the first things to do was checking the egg cartons. Trey learned a trick in Magicam that consisted of using the cellphone’s flashlight over the shells to find out if the egg was good — the light would show an orange yolk — or bad — the inside would reveal to be dark. But, just as he turned on the flashlight, you crouched near the counter to take a look at the eggs;

Trey got terrifically surprised when the light flashed through your eyes and revealed, for a very brief moment, that behind your normally coal-black irises, it was the most beautiful shade of cocoa. Trey turned off his phone’s flashlight quickly, however. He didn’t want to blind you or anything;

But it still was a stunning discovery. During the preparation of the recipe, you commented on how it was a normal effect that the light had on your eyes. But so rare were the occasions that some strong light was cast upon them that you were sure hardly anyone noticed that your eyes had this effect;

And you sure couldn’t imagine the impression this would leave on Trey. He thought about it for a long time. So, he was one of the few people who knew? Trey felt special, although it was extremely embarrassing to admit it. He wasn’t very versed in romance, and this situation sounded like some of the honeyed things that he heard his parents saying to each other — and maybe he wasn’t that far behind;

As the days went by, Trey became more attentive to your eyes when you went out together in very sunny places or where the overall ambient light was quite strong. He hoped to see the glorious brown in your eyes again. Any day, any time;

It seemed almost natural that this was a unique effect of yours, reflecting your nature. You often keep things about yourself deep in your soul. Trey understood what that was like better than anyone else. He looked normal, too, but he could be unpredictable. Or rather, he seemed crazy, but he was in fact quite average;

You could pick up on that whenever you stared at him — meanwhile, he would look at you just as subtle and passionately. Trey’s eyes were golden as butter, soft like honey. Sweet and salty, mixed in the ceramic bowl that was his face. He would have died laughing at the comparison if he had listened;

You cooked together again, but this time at the Ramshackle. It was a pastry that Trey insisted on teaching you to make, called “Hatter’s eye” — an invention of his uncle, who was an oculist. It was worth the joke, you’d to say. It seemed complicated to do but it turned out to be pretty simple;

Finally, you tried the pastry when you two finished making it and it was really delicious. It looked like an eye inside a hat — honestly, the taste was better and easier to digest than the eccentric appearance. You turned around excitedly to thank Trey for the experience, your eyes shining like fireflies at night;

Then Trey ended up remembering something that was kind of obvious from the beginning: whether it was the black shadows of your eyes or their dark chocolate brown hue over the light, your gaze was beautiful in every way. That’s because it was you he was staring at deep down. And Trey could tell he just kept falling deeper down his heart’s rabbit hole, head over heels in love with you.

Sitting on his VIP office couch and reading a magazine full of interesting advertisements, Azul waited for your arrival so you both could dine in the Mostro Lounge that evening. It was a date in its humblest form — if “humble” could be used with the octopus merman. But without any warning, you soon rushed in, completely exhausted and practically collapsing on his lap;

You scared the living daylights out of Azul with that. But if anything, with the day’s fatigue weighing on your shoulders, you didn’t mind him and got distracted by the round ceiling lamp above — it was only really visible if you were in that position. It lit up the office while the little lamps on the shelves did the rest. It was in this mixture of several different lights that Azul noticed something in your eyes;

A discovery simply unimaginable! Your eyes were usually so dark that Azul found himself wondering if there could exist humans with shark-like eyes. But, right there under that bright light, he came across a shade of brown hiding in the depths of your gaze, like a ship full of treasures resting on the sea;

Because staring too long at the light was starting to hurt your eyes, you sat more appropriately next to Azul. He was still surprised, yet disguised it well. Even though he was no longer in the old-fashioned business of rolling you into contracts, there was something about this tiny piece of information that delighted him;

How many people knew your eyes had this ability? Your friends? Just your family? Would he be a humble lucky one among your acquaintances? Eventually, Azul brought it up again and you explained things better — and yes, he really was the only one in the entire NRC who noticed the fact;

It was inevitable that Azul would feel indebted to you in some way. What could he do anyway? He discovered a special secret about you unintentionally, even if it wasn't this big shock he was making it seem like it was;

In short, that was how you ended up being called to the Mostro Lounge, at its night after hours. Azul decided to “pay” an exchange for his discovery in the form of showing you again what his octopus form looked like. He was inside the huge aquarium on the wall — half hidden while you didn’t arrive, a little unsure if it really was a good idea this situation he created for himself;

From your own part, you were more scared to find out the real, crazy reason you were there than at the sight of a half-octopus boy in front of you per se. As you approached each other — well, as you could since there was a wall of reinforced glass between you — you stared deep into Azul’s eyes and he, into yours;

The merman’s blue eyes seemed like a mixture of the crystalline blue of his human form and the slight eye opacity of certain octopus species — perhaps that's why his vision worsened when he took the potion to the surface;

From his point of view, on the other side, the lights in the lounge added a bluish marine effect to the brown color of your eyes. Azul was already completely in love with you but, it was as if you only convinced him more that he was in the right direction with each new conversation. Not as if you were selling your love, but as a confirmation. He had no doubt of his feelings for you;

But, in all honesty, Azul always knew that you were a rare pearl. This from the first time he faced you, trying to investigate your mysterious black-ink eyes to the present day. And don’t think that this wouldn’t continue in the future too. Azul loved you for who you were, the real person behind your eyes. And you thought the same about him.

| Special notes: as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't exist a pastry called "Hatter's eye" lol but now that I came with the concept, I'm curious about how it would look like and the taste... |

#twisted wonderland #trey clover #trey clover x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #gender neutral reader #twst x reader #cherry's writing #bits of cherry #twst fluff

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 year

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Wish Upon a Star

Synopsis: You have a small chance to bring Childe home, and can only hope that you succeed against all odds.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Crying, mentions of being overwhelmed, scratching at nails

~ * ~ The blue sky dawns above Teyvat once more, dotted with clouds and sunshine. It’s that time again, the day old friends soar down and come home- or at least a few of them. Most aren’t available until certain times due to the predetermined schedule, and no one knows who comes next and when, or even if they’ll return home at all. You can only hope that your efforts are enough to bring them back to stay for good. But this time you have little hope, your luck turned to dust and funds running low. In your hands you hold precisely ten wishes. It’s all you were able to get, amongst other things, and you know they can’t bring anyone home- they can’t bring him home. And yet, some small, fleeting hope whispers that perhaps if your wishes are strong enough, he’ll hear you anyways, and listen. You curl your shaky fingers over the glittering fates; little comets in their cages. They shine purple, pink, blue- whether they’re taunting or resonating with you is uncertain. With an unsteady breath, you press the wishes to your forehead, a hushed whisper falling from your lips. “Please.” With your prayer cast to the wind, you turn and throw the fates skyward, watching halfheartedly as they sparkle and dissolve into twinkling lights. The breeze catches their remnants and flies them up, up, up into the heavens, and you can only sit in the gently waving grass and wait, idly scratching at the edges of your nails. The stars begin to fall, one by one. At first they only appear blue, dropping sturdy weapons into your hands- spears, bows, and swords galore amongst others, and you quickly pocket them for the friends who’ve already graced you with their presence. A purple light gives you another bow- an old rusted greatbow you can barely even pull the string of, perfect for someone with the strength of an ocean. You sigh and set it down. Not for anyone you know, at the moment. How many of your wishes have been granted? You weren’t counting- with how many weapons now sit around your feet, it must be all of them, right? Your shoulders drop as a humorless smile stretches across your features; what were you expecting, really? That wishing and hoping enough would bring him home? You never had a chance, and never will again until months later, when the time finally returns. With a heavy heart you begin gathering the manifestation of the few fates you had, wondering who in the world could wield the stiff, rusting bow, even after you restored it to its former glory. Something glows, and you turn to squint upwards, eyes widening when you see the shining gold star soaring towards you, a miniature sun against the azure sky. It lands before you, the blinding light fading into a humanoid figure as you blink and attempt to reorient yourself. “Comrade!” A pair of strong, scarred hands grab yours, steadying you as you stare into the vibrant blue eyes of Childe, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, and you swear against all logic that you see a sparkle in those beautiful eyes of his. He’s smiling- oh, he’s smiling, smiling so wide that you can see faint dimples in his cheeks, and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Comrade, what’s wrong?!” Oh- you touch your face and your fingers come away damp- you are crying. Hastily you scrub under your eyes, apologizing frantically and shoving the bow Rust into Childe’s hands. With how overwhelming your life has been lately and how desperately you wished for his arrival, you hadn’t noticed the weeks of stress finally showing through your tears. That’s a decent excuse- anyways, surely he’s strong enough to wield Rust, so you’ll get to work improving it- “Oh, starlight…” Suddenly sturdy arms wrap around your shoulders as Childe tugs you close, linking his hands behind your back and tucking your face into the crook of his neck, Rust forgotten on the ground. He gently shushes your near-silent cries, letting you grip onto his scarf and let tears flow down your cheeks, Childe’s fingers massaging the muscles around your spine. With your head leaning against his shoulder, you miss the way Childe perks up with a sudden idea, slowing the gentle presses of his hands and closing his eyes. Hydro and Electro, completely harmless to you, swirl around his body, and the next time you look up it’s into the single crystalline eye of his Foul Legacy form. He whines when you back away in surprise, lowering his head to appear smaller and less intimidating, cooing quietly when you step closer. At those sounds your heart blooms with relief and you fully approach the now Abyssal Childe, reaching up to settle your hands in his ginger hair. You gasp, marveling at how soft and thick it is as your hands stroke the fluffy locks, then momentarily stumble when Childe decides the best place to nudge his face is into your chest. His rumbling purrs dance around the sunny sky, claws delicately clasping around your waist so he can hold you, keep you safe- and for the first time in days you feel a genuine laugh bubble out and burst happily in the air. When you eventually fall from Foul Legacy’s weight he follows suit, curling around your body and reversing your previous roles by pressing his face against your neck, trilling in delight at your attempts to wrap your arms around his much bigger self. He glances at you, a happy smile dancing across your features, and Childe feels himself soften, the Abyss-tainted heart in his chest beating quicker at the mere sight of you. With a gentle croon he leans closer and delicately licks your cheek, then envelops you in his arms, letting out a happy chirp. “Home… I’m home…” Foul Legacy’s growling voice soothes you further, and you smile wider, the first of many. Childe chuffs and licks your other cheek, purring at your yelp of mock outrage. “Always… come home… to you.”

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Hi you're an amazing writer may I request white diamond x pearl reader? 💖

Well, this can only ever go one way, I hope you like my take though ^^

Yandere! White Diamond with Pearl! Darling

Pre-Era 3

Short Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Brainwashing, Moral conflict, Obsession, Implied jealousy, Social structures.

Well, we’ve all seen what she did with Pink’s first pearl, right?

Pearls are meant to be servants in the caste system of Gem culture.

You don’t really have much of a say who gets to keep you on Homeworld.

If White feels she wants you as hers for whatever reason, she can have you.

Who are you to refuse?

White’s the diamond most in power, while you’re just a regular old pearl.

If she did have a pearl darling, to keep things interesting she wouldn’t use her powers on you at first.

She starts really calm and patient with you, when she first has you under her rule she just treats you like any old diamond.

Honestly, with the eerie demeanor of the pearl she already had under her, you’d probably already wish to do all you can to keep her happy.

There’s… just something odd about her.

The room you spend most of your time in is filled with monotone colors, a blinding white everywhere you look.

It’s also the way she talks that’s just so strange.

You know your place and don’t question it but it does creep you out.

Even more so when the first few encounters you had with her were through Pink’s old pearl.

It isn’t until later on in her obsession does she eventually summon you to her ship.

She’d be the type to try and make sure the little attachment she has for you is perfect.

Again, love is a strange concept for Gems in their culture, it isn’t often expressed.

Much less between a lowly pearl and a regal diamond.

You’re so confused and scared when THE White Diamond starts wanting you to listen to her for orders.

You!?

What did YOU do!?

White normally is really reclusive, rarely talking to anyone now after the whole Pink incident before Era 3.

White would try her best to be patient with you at first, wanting you to be perfect for her without having to remove what makes you yourself.

Your behavior makes her feel imperfect, how your personality draws her to you makes her scared.

Her obsession would worry her as she is supposed to be perfect for her people.

Her strange affections towards you makes her feel different, she both hates it but is curious about it.

This is why she wants to keep you, treasure you like a pearl of her own.

She doesn’t want you to end up like Pink’s pearl due to her power, yet…

Unfortunately such a fate is inevitable before Era 3 as a pearl.

Her obsession makes the diamond so conflicted to the point she feels she has to rid herself of it.

She doesn’t want to get rid of you, however.

She can embrace this feeling in a different way.

She doesn’t have to change, she just needs to make you obedient and perfect.

Once you're perfect, then this little connection between you will finally feel right.

It’s upsetting when you lose all your color, going monotone and under her command.

You lose your individuality and become a puppet for her to keep.

One that listens to her every command, at this point you’re part of her now.

She feels this way she will stay perfect while keeping you, the pearl of her affections.

She feels good about the fact she now has you to herself, that you’re now a part of her perfect fantasy.

While it would’ve been nice to keep your unique color and behavior, it was too much for her.

She wanted to keep you, but not as you.

While her obsession feels a bit more dull now… she feels relieved and happy it’s all over with.

She has nothing to worry about if you’re just like her and under her control.

#yandere steven universe #yandere white diamond

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 3 months

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The Fire & The Selkie

In the ocean, especially this far North, warmth can be hard to find and harder to keep. But a spark starts on an island, far into the frigid waters. Will it flicker out, smothered by the winds and the mist? Will it ignite? Or, will it burn everything to ash?

Main character; Keith Howell

Content; Gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns), maritime and selkie shenanigans

Content Warnings; Swearing, some fear

Word Count; 2.9K

You should have heeded the elders' warnings.

“Red sky in morning, sailor take warning.”

But you couldn’t afford not to go out on the water, and an old rhyme wasn’t about to dissuade you from missing out on earning some money from checking the crab lines and cast nets.

But now, several hours away from the safety of dry land, you found yourself fighting the waves and winds to keep your boat from capsizing. And with no crew, you were burning both from the cold, and exhaustion. You knew that if you survived this storm, you would most likely be sick if not with a cold, but also hypothermia.

It wasn’t the time to imagine the consequences of today if you didn’t live long enough to see tomorrow.

You spat out the salty water from your mouth and braved the storm. This was hardly your first one, but a dread weighed you down. The quiet part of your conscience, a part that was much older, was screaming caution.

Not caution about the storm, but of something else.

Nothing but fishing tales made larger than life. Is what the rational part of your brain argued, but it was unsure.

While there was no such thing as monsters that lay in wait under the waters waiting for a boat to devour, you did know that if you were to capsize, you wouldn’t be coming out of the water alive. The frigid water would sap all warmth from you, and you would slowly sink to the bottom. The only evidence of you being a destroyed boat drifting to some coastline.

You gritted your teeth as a particularly freezing wind blew back the hood of your coat, causing your eyes to sting from the salt in the air. You didn’t even bother trying to fix it, knowing that it would be a fruitless endeavour trying to keep it up — you could use that energy elsewhere.

You gripped onto the wheel tightly, barely being able to feel it, and pressed forward.

Did you know where you were going? Not in the slightest. If you didn’t at least steer into the waves, the only place you would be going was Davy Jones’ locker, where many of your more reckless and overly confident community members had found themselves before.

Some would say you were reckless and overly confident as well, it was always a calculated risk. Even today.

Just today was by far the largest risk you had taken yet, but the potential yield from those traps and lines would be able to not just feed your community but also could prove to change your life from being just an errand runner, to finally running your own boat.

To finally be a captain of a crew, and not being some lackey for the drunkard in town. To be the one making orders yet still treating your crew fairly. To be fully in charge of your own life and not be at the mercy of others.

A flash of lightning struck the horizon, providing a blinding light in the darkness that was the storm. And from that darkness, you could just make out a tall, dark mass that pierced from the ocean.

Please, please, please. You silently begged the sky to send another bolt of light to illuminate the way. Just long enough for you to figure out how to navigate there.

BOOM!

A crash of thunder. Any second now, light would follow.

As if answering your call, lightning danced throughout the sky, just long enough for you to steer the boat to face the island.

Fighting the waves, and screaming back at the howling winds, you were also laughing like a madman, all sense of sensibility — and perhaps sanity — thrown out the window. The time for that was long gone, and you were rapidly running out of both energy and willpower, but also gas. The needle tipping right above zero.

It was a last-ditch effort, and you didn’t slow down as the boat practically crashed into the rocks at shore.

Another boom and flash of lightning seemed to congratulate you on surviving and welcome you to the island. And while you were relieved that by some stroke of luck that you had made it through the storm and made it to some semblance of land, you also knew that this island — a speck in the middle of a frigid sea — was not just a lifeline, but also a death sentence if you couldn’t call for help, or someone didn’t find you.

But fighting the panic that was starting to build in your chest, and threatened to choke your breath, you hauled the boat further up shore to where the waves and the thick mist couldn’t reach, and flipped it to the side, watching water pour out. Once only a few drips trickled out, you flipped it upside down, creating an artificial cave, blocking out the roar of the wind, and the outside world.

After hours of noise, the relative quiet made your ears ring. But you couldn’t relax just yet, knowing that if you fell asleep now, you wouldn’t wake up.

Adjusting the boat — how a dingy piece of metal managed the storm avoided you — you shuffled like some absurd hermit crab to where you could place the damned (or blessed?) piece of metal so you could get some airflow.

To survive, you needed fire, but you also didn’t want smoke inhalation to be the death of you, nor hypothermia.

You poked around in the few storage containers you had on board since they were the only dry things you had on hand. A pot, a steel wool sponge, some batteries, and a threadbare blanket, that was what you were willing to sacrifice.

“Come on,” you whispered, a white cloud escaping from your mouth, “work for me.”

You placed the battery on the steel wool sponge and mentally sighed in relief as you saw it slowly turning red before catching on fire. Gently, you placed the small fire on the blanket, anxiously waiting for it to spread.

Soon, the cold from the hours of exposure was traded for the warmth of a fire. But the burning from the cold was replaced with shivering that shook your whole body.

Knowing that it would take much longer for you to warm up if you kept on the layers of soaking fabric, you gently peeled away the layers until you were just wearing the slightly damp thermal leggings and top.

Scooting closer to the fire you made yourself comfortable, as comfortable as you could knowing that finding help was nearly impossible and sat there, knowing better than to fall asleep.

…

Sometime throughout the night, you had drifted to sleep from exhaustion and the comforting warmth of the fire. The cawing of sea birds waking you from a dreamless sleep.

The storm had passed, but it had left its mark.

You had bruises, the aching kind that would definitely be an ugly shade of purple and oh so tender, and now in the weak light of day, you could see large dents on the boat, from where the waves had continuously struck at the haul.

Crawling out from your makeshift shelter, you stretched out, feeling and hearing all sorts of cracks and you groaned at feeling the tension release. Sleeping on cold rocks didn’t do you any favours, but you were thankful that you made it to see today.

But since you could actually see more than an arm's length in front of you, you took the chance to inspect the craggy island, to see if there was anything of use besides the abandoned fishing nets and other man-made debris that had also found its way here.

You walked down the narrow shoreline you had beached yourself on until it slowly opened up to a larger beach. There wasn’t much, a seabird here or there, but what caught your attention was a seal, basking in the weak sunlight.

You had seen seals before, but never for long since they would slide into the water at the first sight of humans. And you stood there, just looking at its content sleeping face.

The seal was cute, just look at them, but you kept on moving, going towards a small cliff by the water that was encrusted with marine plants. While not super appetizing, they would be enough, plus you didn’t feel confident in trying to catch one of the aforementioned seabirds currently. So the algae would be enough for now.

Happy with your collection of assorted marine plants, you started making your way back. You looked back though, hoping to see the seal one more time for an added dose of some much-needed serotonin, but they were gone, the only evidence that they were there was the slide track going towards the water.

Your mouth twitched, nearing a frown, before you shook your head and continued back to camp, not really looking forward to your meal.

It was more or less the same when you got back, but the same feeling that you had while in the storm, to be cautious.

But what danger could be found on some craggy spire in the midst of the sea? As far as you knew, you were the only other person here. But your brain and your body were on high alert.

Ignoring your breakfast of ocean-provided greens, you carefully looked around your camp. All seemed as it was before you left, but upon entering under your boat, you found a large fresh halibut on the rocks, dead.

It couldn’t have washed up to shore, the tide didn’t come up this high. Upon flipping the fish over you found one large puncture mark.

Something had killed this fish and left it in your camp while you were gone for less than three hours. And while one part of you was grateful that you wouldn’t just be dining on seaweed, another part of you felt sick with dread.

You weren’t alone. They knew about you, maybe even have seen you, but you haven’t seen them.

You felt dizzy, and running out of your boat tent, you vomited into a rocky crevice.

“Tch,” you huffed, wiping your mouth. “If you think this is some sort of game you can fuck right off!”

Spinning around you hoped to see someone trying to hide, or to at least hear some sort of sound, but all you found was a seabird sitting comfortably on your boat, and another (or perhaps even the same) seal sitting at the tide line.

They looked at you curiously and turned their head to the side. Like they were surprised by your outburst.

You furrowed your brow, “Maybe I’m just going mad. Swallowed too much seawater.”

Shaking your head, you crept back under your shelter. But there was no denying that the fish was caught by someone and not by yourself. Your stomach gurgled, and putting aside your suspicion, you started a fire and prepared the fish. You might have not caught it, but like hell were you going to let it go to waste.

Soon, the suspicion was replaced for contentment at finally getting some hot food into you. And you looked outside, wondering when you would be getting an answer.

…

...

Keith didn’t have company very often besides the seabirds, so he took to sunbathing when possible, fighting away the cold of the ocean. Warmth was a hard thing to be found.

Sure, that jangly fellow visited every few months, but he hardly counted as good company. Something about him irritated Keith, but he couldn’t put a finger on it, so he just stayed polite, waiting for the man to leave. Their interactions were icey, much like the ocean waters that he knew.

But there was now a new visitor, they crawled out of the raging sea, a fire burning bright in them. Even though they were shrouded by darkness and mist, there was a warmth. Keith could only watch in curiosity as they fought their way out of the water and made a camp.

Fire was a rare and precious thing, not easily made or kept here, the cold and damp forcing it to die out sooner or later. But the new human, who was looking half drowned and half dead, was burning so brightly that Keith could only watch as orange light slowly illuminated the makeshift shelter they had made.

Humans rarely ever brought anything good with them, the litter on the beach being evidence of that, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Even while exhausted and barely holding on, they were fighting where some may have just given up.

In a place that was typically cold and isolated, Keith couldn’t help but think that maybe the ocean had finally answered his call for a companion.

So he watched, and took notice of their shivering form. Unlike himself, humans weren’t made for this type of weather. He couldn’t just waltz in though, not wanting to scare them away.

After what felt like hours, the human finally fell asleep, somehow getting comfortable on the rocks even though they would definitely leave bruises on their skin. Keith slowly made his way towards the shelter, and looked curiously in, making sure that there was no chance that they were still awake.

But nope, you were out cold.

Keith slowly took off his seal coat, morphing into a man, and gently placed it on you, knowing that it would warm you up.

A part of him was a tad disappointed that you didn’t turn into a seal like him — you would have made an adorable seal — but he felt his face warm up as you burrowed subconsciously into his coat, curling up into a ball. Warmth in his face? That was new… but not unwarranted.

And he stayed on the other side of the shelter, by the entrance, but still close enough that if you woke up suddenly, he could take his coat and high tail it out of there if need be.

Giving your coat to a human? What am I thinking?

But he also didn’t want you to die. You brought vibrant warmth to the cold landscape. While he knew the fire could bring warmth, he also knew it could burn and destroy, consuming everything in its path.

He also knew that in order for him to be bound to you, like the old wives tales told, you would have to not only take his coat, but also give it back. The tales said nothing about him lending and then taking it back without you knowing–

The rustling of the pebbles moving took him out of his thoughts and he snatched his coat back and made a beeline for the water, quickly throwing it overtop of his self. Once back in the relative safety of the sea, he peered over the waves to see you crawling out of the shelter and stretching out, much like he did when sunbathing.

And then you were making your way down the shore, heading west, towards the haul out beach. Knowing that you were headed somewhat in that direction, Keith made his way there.

Its not so I can see them, no, just trying to warm up is all.

But he usually didn’t get a flutter in his chest from the prospect of sunbathing.

Naturally, he arrived before you did. Judging from his prior trekking experiences with that Silvio fellow, he reckoned that he had at least an hour before you stumbled your way to his haul out site. So, he stretched out, much like you did, however without the aforementioned cracking of every joint of his body.

He had a nice chat with some seabirds that were passing by, and mainly just enjoyed the weak sun that peaked through the clouds.

Then he heard your footsteps, and looked at you.

You looked back, only for a brief moment though, before continuing to the shoreline, picking up seaweed and algae. And even from the distance between the two of you, Keith could hear the gurgle of your stomach.

So, he went back into the water, into the depths, and hunted down a good sized halibut — surely a 5 pound fish would be enough for today? And left it in your shelter as a sort of welcoming/please don’t die gift.

But he wasn’t expecting you to come basically running out of your shelter and hurl into the cliff side.

“If you think this is some sort of game you can fuck right off!” You snapped, and Keith shrunk into the water.

Did you not like the gift? Did you find it offensive? Did he do something wrong?

But your ire, or what he assumed to be ire, cooled down and you went back into your shelter and Keith could smell the distinctive aroma of fish cooking. He usually preferred his meals cold, but he couldn’t help but wonder what hot fish tasted like.

He knew though that he would never have the chance, one human knowing of the existence of selkies was dangerous enough — what with the folk tales that still circled around after centuries — and while you may be intriguing, he couldn’t risk endangering everything just because you piqued his interest.

But he also couldn’t just ignore you.

You were a fire, and he couldn’t let you run rampant on his island because of the slight chance that you would burn everything to the ground.

...........................................

Masterlist

#ikemen prince #ikemen prince x reader #ikemen prince au #ikepri #ikepri x reader #ikepri au #keith howell #keith howell x reader #keith howell x gn reader #hi yes i am unwell about selkies and my brain went 'hey what if keith was a selkie?'#yes silvio is mentioned but he'll probably won't make an actual appearance #*goes and hides away under a boat*#watch me kick and scream trying to stay committed to yet another fic (probably not this one since this is an original story line)#hope you enjoy keith kissers

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romanoffsbish · 10 months

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Dialogue Prompt List 2.0

Angst/Fluff/Smut/ H/C prompts listed. (18+)

— = Y/N or Character

I write wlw exclusively, but feel free to rearrange gendered pronouns for your fics. ❤️

Angst

“What the fuck told you this was a good plan, hm?” / “I just wanted to do something nice for you…” / “Yeah, well you failed!”

“Me? Love you? *incredulous laughter* Look, I know you live in delusion most days, but this is ridiculous. You’re unlovable —.”

“So this was just a game to you, why?” / “I always loved a challenge, but it turned out you were an easy catch, I’m bored now.”

“Making me fall in love with you when you never intended to stay was cruel, —.” / “I told you from the start I’d only break your heart —.” / “I thought you were joking since you slept with me an hour later!” / “Yeah, that’s where you made a mistake. You chose to be foolish and entangle the heart where it never had a chance to thrive.”

“This is all your fucking fault —!” … “You never should’ve come here, you are clearly only capable of making things worse.”

Fluff

“Please tell me there isn’t something on my face —?” / “What?” / “You’re staring…” /“oh, no, I just got lost in your eyes for a second. You’re just so mesmerizing.”

“Hey —!” / “Hey —(nickname/term of endearment), what’s got you so excited, hm?” / “I’m about to ask my crush out…” / “Oh, um, I wish you the best of luck.” / *awkward obvious silence* / “Hey —.” / “Yeah?” *soft/sad whisper* / “Are you free tonight? Say 6? I scored tickets to the local game.” / “Wait, I thought.” *pause of realization* “Oh my gosh, you like me?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes?” / *Person B rolls them* “Only you, about a hundred times.” / *Person A chuckles nervously* “Well it’s the truth, I have never been lost and found all in one go. But whenever I look into them thats what happens.” / “Yet you haven’t asked me out.” / “I believe in the long game —, I would never want to rush our forever.”

“Stop it!” / “Stop what” / “Looking at me like I’m all you’ll ever want. It’s unfair.” / “How so?” / “Because it gives me hope.” / “Have you ever considered it’s not hope, but a sign that you should go out on a date with me tonight.” / “Oh…” / *Person B winks* “I’ll pick you up at 7 sweetheart.”

“I adore —, but it’s definitely a bit one sided.” / “That’s it, we’re taking you for an eye exam, clearly you’ve gone blind.” / “This isn’t funny, I love them so much—, but...” / *Person B interrupts A’s pity party* “Hey Y/N!” * R looks up and hums with a warm smile, as her eyes cast over to Person A / Person B smirks at the visible proof.* / “— wants you to meet her on the roof tonight, wear your evening best.” / “Oh, why? I-is this a date?” / *Person A went to speak, to shut it down but B confirms in an instant. R’s eyes widen, and then she squeals a yay before leaving* / “See —? I expect to be the maid of honor.”

Smut

“Meet me in my room in five…” / “Why?” / “So I can make those pretty eyes of yours roll to the back of your head silly girl…”

“Tell me how badly you want it sweetie.” / “Bad enough that I’d let you fuck me raw.”

“We’re leaving.” / “What? Why? I’m having fun!” / “We can have fun at home —.” / “I’m not going —.” / “Fine, then I guess I’ll just have to fuck you here in front of everyone. Maybe then they’ll finally know who you belong to, and you’ll also remember.”

“I am studying —, I can’t take any breaks.” / *takes your caffeine source* “Honey, that’s precisely the problem, you are overworking yourself, and you need mommy to wipe your brain of thought.”

“Take it off, please.” / “You turned a blind eye to my advances —, so you can remain in the dark as I fuck you senseless too.”

Hurt / Comfort

“—, you need to get out of bed, it’s been weeks…” / “It’s okay —, you don’t have to pretend to care.” / “I’m not, so please, let me care for you until you can do it for yourself.” / *timid whispers* “okay…”

“Hey —, do you think I’ll ever find love?” / “Where is this coming from —? Of course you will.” / “Then why haven’t I? The unsavory truth is simple—I’m unlovable.” / “No, it’s because you haven’t noticed me…”

“You belong here —.” / “The team doesn’t seem to agree” *while packing a duffle / “Last time I checked the team was made up of idiots with ego-stroking agendas. The last thing we need is to lose one of the few genuinely selfless souls.” … “Not that that means what you did was right. It’s just also not the end of the world either. It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?” / “No.” / “How can I fix that?” / “I don’t think I can be fixed.” / “How about you let me try? I’ll remind you everyday just how loved you are. I can’t imagine a world without you —, so please let me be here for you so I never have to.”

“What’s wrong?” / “It’s all gray now.” / “What is?” / “The world. Nothing fits. It’s all just catastrophe and chaos. I feel so lost.” / “Sometimes being lost is a good thing.” / “How so?” / “It’s merely a sign to tell you that your path needs rerouting dear, it’s how evolution remains possible. This isn’t the end you see, it’s only just the beginning of something new.” / “I really like that.” / “I like you” (cheesy little kiss to follow 🥹)

#writing prompts #writing prompt #fluff prompt #fluff prompts #angst prompts #angst prompt #smut prompts #smut prompt #hurt / comfort prompt #hurt / comfort prompts

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yemmate · 4 months

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I'm supposed to be writing right now but I want to say something that I tell myself. I hope it helps you too.

Art isn't just a hobby. It can be a job. It's not a perfect job, but it's still a job that makes you happy. Not many other career paths can say that. Warning: This is a tangent post made by an anarchist. If you don't want to read a long novel length ramble about why money is a corrupting construct and capitalism is made to break poor people move along.

I've noticed in my 21 years on this planet, nearing the 22 mark as spring approaches, that jobs are often given a value. If you're a doctor you've got a high quality job because you went to school, got a degree, and get paid a lot. But what about nurses? They work in the same place and went to school for a certification, some a degree as well, but they aren't paid as much and are treated poorly. Why? Well because they're not doctors. They can have the same amount of knowledge, sometimes more depending on who the doctor is, but their job is seen as lower just because of the pay and general view of it in the eyes of society.

Most of the people who will tell you all this and which job is the most valuable and what to go for actually don't know much about the inner workings. Go ahead, ask someone who's told you something like this if they've done much research outside of watching a video on social media and reading random posts without checking the validity behind them.

Another things with doctors, nurses, construction workers, all these jobs everyone tells you to get instead of something you'd actually enjoy is they don't face the fact, or rather they choose to just accept the fact and do nothing about it, that those in charge are gonna kick. you. around. until you give up or give in. Those who give up usually didn't even want the job in the first place. Those who give in always dreamed of this job but once they're in it that blind optimistic veil is torn away.

Zom100 is an anime that opens with a guy going into an office job where he works for a company that produces commercials. He's a writer for the scripts and helps with casting and went in expecting to make tons of friends, meet stars, and even falls for the secretary and wishes to confess to her one day. It starts off all bright and colorful since that's how he views the world in his eyes. After going out drinking with his coworkers after their first day of work is done, everything stops. The happy smiles and attitudes of his employees vanish as they return to work and our protagonist is met with the horrible work grind culture he's walked into. Yet, he stays optimistic in the hopes he can stay strong only to finally break after a year of working at the business. He stumbles home from exhaustion to his now trashed apartment full of garbage bags, trash covering the floors, just looking like a dump because he's to exhausted from working and staying at the office days at a time to be able to clean up.

I love the first episode of Zom100, although only the first episode, because it does a FANTASTIC job at giving a message I live by. "Do not settle for treatment that is less than what you deserve." It shows what happens when you go for the give in option of what I mentioned earlier. If your boss is dumping work on you but not anyone else, call them out. If you're being harassed in the workplace and there is a clear bias because of your gender, race, or anything else, call them out. If your pay is far less than the amount you work, call them out. If they refuse to make any changes despite you having concrete evidence because they will lose the money they have to spare, quit and call them out.

The older folk in my life have told me time and time again that "You work for bad people to pay worse people and then die." (Not a direct quote but it summarizes what they say.) These people come from a time where there was an even worse imbalance in power and they had to give in to live due to the many things going on in the world at that time that made living conditions horrible if you weren't already super rich. It isn't like that anymore though.

The economy and people in power is still messed up yes we need to work on that but that isn't what this post is about.

Glitch Studios is an animation studio aiming to give independent animation a place to shine and has been doing so with MASSIVE success. It's thanks to them that indie work is finally getting looked at by bigger studios. Personally, I see this as a sign that art is finally getting a more proper place in the general view of society as a proper career path. Only issue is it's focused on animation.

I'm not an animator, I'm a writer and lover of comics. Would I want some of my stuff adapted into animation? By fans out of love for the works, yes, as an official adaptation for profit? No.

It's not a smart move marketing wise or profit wise but that's the thing. I'm not some old white guy sitting on a throne of gold bars in a big evil company business building, I'm a 20 something at a desk in a dusty apartment room surrounded by goofy posters and plushies. I don't care about money, I care about making things I and others love. I think that's what people have forgotten recently when it comes to working in this world. You can work and work and work and pay rent and be able to buy that new outfit to wear at your family gathering to show off but how long will you be happy from that? Small moments of joy is fine and treating yourself is fine too, but what do you do to make yourself happy while still fulfilling a purpose? Do you feel like you fulfill a purpose? What did you want to do, not need to do.

Working retail is seen as your go to starter job or just what you go to when you need to pay the bills. It's not a shameful thing to do, nor is any job when you just need an income for necessities. But, what if that's what you want to do? You don't want a giant house, you don't want a fancy car, you don't want Gucci clothes, you enjoy the simple job and lifestyle. That's fine. No matter if your parents say you're throwing away your potential, no matter if the world says you need to run a company, no matter what people say it is okay to have simple goals and a simple life.

Minimalism is the practice of only having what you need for what you want to do. This is the video that first got me thinking about it.

youtube

It's something I think people need to be taught about more. Now I'm not saying you shouldn't go and sell off everything you own, but maybe at least think "Do I really need a $200 phone from a popular brand that doesn't even come with a charger? Do I need it? What parts of it validate the cost?"

Now here is how this all ties back to my overall message with this tangent.

I want to make indie comics because it makes me happy. It makes my friends who have helped me shaped the stories, characters, and everything else happy. And, overall, I hope it makes others happy too. Not to mention, I can't exactly think about signing up with some popular publishing company because of how loudly of an anarchist I am and how diverse I make my work.

Why I'm making this post is because I want to get you thinking about this too. Are you happy with whatever job you have right now? Are you fairly treated? Is this what you want? Are you brainwashed by societal norms made by the big companies that you need whatever big and fancy phone or computer set up you're reading this on? If you said no to any of this I suggest looking into your own personal rights as a human being and standing up for yourself, think about forming a union if need be. If your issue is with buying expensive things you don't even need feel free to trade them in or sell them and get what you need and can be happy with while having extra money left over.

Remember, you don't need to be make a billion dollars each week to be successful. Happiness is from what you do and what makes you happy, not your bank account amount or how many bedrooms you have in a mansion. Most of all, happiness is what you choose to make it not what some old jerks who think Trump is a sane man say it is.

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love-beyond-space-war · 7 months

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Interested in a Jega ‘Rdomnai scenario with a Spartan reader that defected from the UNSC.

Oh sure! So for this you're in The Banished and there's tension between you and Jega for... reasons at first. Along with moral conflict.

Edit: Sorry if the plot wasn't coherent or something, that's how the story ended up flowing.

Loyalty for Survival

Jega 'Rdomnai x Defected Spartan! Reader

Synopsis: In order to survive sometimes you have to change your allegiance. Despite you now being part of The Banished, Jega has his own suspicions about you.

Content Warnings: Romantic/Platonic Pairing (Dubious), Gender-Neutral Reader/Male Character, Trust issues mentioned, Canon typical violence, Death, Guilt, Dark themes, Sad themes.

Ever since the remains of the UNSC crashed onto Zeta Halo, humanity has been rather mixed when it comes to beliefs. Some stayed loyal to the UNSC. Some sided with the Banished that occupied here. Some stayed away from either party.

You? You used to be a newer Spartan fighting for the UNSC. However, as you watched your friends die around you, you realized you needed other means to survive. So you became a mercenary.

Becoming a mercenary soon got you into Banished territory. Despite you being a human Spartan, a potential enemy, you were hired into their forces. The change being finalized once your armor color was swapped to the brutal red The Banished often used.

Despite your loyalty now being towards Escharum, The Hand of Atriox and the Banished as a whole, not everyone trusted you. Spartans weren't known to abandon their cause to other members thought this was all a ploy. To solve such an issue they assigned someone to watch you.

Jega 'Rdomnai, the Spartan Killer himself, was sent to watch you. Even to Jega he was baffled a Spartan joined their ranks. Despite this he tried to trust Escharum's word.

You were not blind to being watched. Jega may use cloaking technology but you always assumed he was somewhere around you. He was there to cut you down if you showed sign of betrayal.

You didn't complain, mercenaries aren't the most trustworthy individuals. Some Banished aren't, either.

Jega was usually quiet more often than not. If he wasn't watching you then he sent other troops to do so. Said troops you often talked to as if they were buddies as you oversaw certain Banished functions.

Talking with Jega was usually brief. There's times he'd check in and ask what you did that day. He felt accusing at times but you brushed things off.

What did make you uncomfortable was when Jega prodded at your origins. He asked how well you performed, he asked if you had Spartan brothers/sisters you were close with, he asked if you were close with "The Master Chief".

Jega had a tendency to prod at you and you never told him much. You didn't like thinking of your past. You didn't like thinking of what your friends would say if they knew you left the UNSC for the enemy.

It just... hurt a bit too much to talk about.

Your silence often frustrated Jega but he gave up if you showed enough hostility. It just wasn't worth it. Plus, he didn't need Escharum hearing about him antagonizing you for being a Spartan.

The tough and brutal thing about being a mercenary was the jobs. As expected, you were often sent to hunt down UNSC camps and targets. The more missions you did, the more The Banished trusted you.

Which meant Jega backed off more than normal.

The Sangheili became less antagonistic and mor casual. After all, he's seen what you can do himself. You've killed marines and many other UNSC personnel for The Banished.

In fact you're starting to become infamous around UNSC camps.

Tales of the rogue spartan echoed across Zeta Halo. Jega admitted he was impressed if not a bit intrigued. Did you care for yourself more than your own kind? Maybe your kind cast you out just as his did?

This was what drove him to ask questions. He wonders how you feel at the thought of having human blood on your hands. He wonders if you find the hunt thrilling... or disheartening.

Your shared infamy was what brought Jega closer to you as some sort of companion. While he used to just be some sort of enforcer for you, now you often turned to him for chat. Two killers... bonding over what they do.

As much as you've hate what you've done... Jega has ironically become the closest companion you have.

"Do you ever feel guilt?" Jega asks you. "Or that maybe this was a coward's way out?"

"What are you saying?" You try to avoid the question, looking at a data pad absent-mindedly.

"You kill those you were meant to protect." Jega elaborates. "Do you find it thrilling or saddening?"

"It's a job. I try not to think too hard about it." You comment blankly.

"Do you ever regret it?"

Your jaw tenses.

"... sometimes." You admit. "But here is much better than suffering out there."

The Sangheili laughs softly, pulling down your data pad.

"For a Spartan you intrigue me." Jega admits, pushing the pad aside. "You use your skills as a warrior for your own benefit. I'm actually pleased that I haven't had to kill you, if not a little disappointed to be on the receiving end of your skills."

"No one said we can't train together." You bring up, Jega humming in response.

"You've managed to prove yourself here, it's respectable. You're quite the hunter." Jega praises.

"Does that mean Escharum will no longer have you watching me?" You ask, changing the subject away from the slaughter of your species by your hand. The past is in the past... you belong to The Banished now.

"That eager to get rid of me?" Jega asks.

"Nah, if anything I'll miss you." You admit, the Sangheili watching you closely.

"Grown attached? How ironic." Jega snorts while you fully turn yourself towards him.

"Admittedly it's ironic since you kill those like me." You agree. "But you really are the closest to me out of anyone here."

"You tell me this... why?" Jega questions.

"Just thought you'd like to know I wouldn't mind fighting by your side. After all, I'm one with The Banished now. This is the only company I need." You offer. Jega looks at you with even more interest.

"You're saying you'd hunt a spartan, one of your own, if it meant you'd help me?" Jega pushes. You nod.

"You mean that much to me."

"You prefer me more than any other human."

"To keep it simple and brief, yes." You confirm as Jega steps closer.

"That's quite a claim..." Jega hums in consideration, standing beside you. "Would you be willing to confirm such loyalty?"

"Whenever you wish." You admit, hiding the sadness in your tone.

"I'll run what you said by Escharum." Jega promises. "I look forward to making you my partner, rogue spartan."

Jega cloaks out of sight, leaving you alone. You will admit the idea of betraying your own species still hurts. That's something you'll never get over....

Yet there's no turning back now, right? Not when you've found somewhere else to call home.

#halo x reader #halo infinite x reader #halo sangheili x reader #sangheili x reader #sangheili/human #jega rdomnai x reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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denndrawings · 1 year

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Thoughts on Frankenstein and the trans experience

Hi! So some months ago I finished my Final Degree Thesis on monsters and the theory behind why queer people tend to relate with them easier than with heroes on the pieces of media that features them and I've been sitting on my thoughts on Frankenstein and how it is a source of identification for both the trans feminine and the transmasculine experience.

My credentials are I'm trans (non binary)! and also I've been researching this for like. Four years. So if you want to read the part of my disertation about Frankenstein and gender (I also have a lot written about otherness, the concept of the monster, queer narratives and vampires but this is not the post for that) you can find it under the cut! (be warned its gonna be long because it's straight up copy-paste from the disertation)

If vampires are a mirror for sexuality, there is little doubt that the “monsters” that haunt gender are Frankenstein and his creature. That is hardly a stretch, since he is an Adam —he calls himself that at one point (Shelley, 1818, p.69), recognizing himself as the creature casted out of the Garden of Eden unfairly by Victor, who is at the same time a creator God and the Eve who rebelled against “natural order” making them both fall out of grace—in a stolen body made out of someone else’s expectations of what a “man” is supposed to look like, how he should act and think and move (how he should perform his gender, that Victor seems so utterly obsessed with, and then devastated about until he became the monster his creator wanted him to be); rejected by the one who created him, forced by society to stay hidden, unable to ever “pass” and misunderstood (Fox, 2017).

There is something interesting about this book, and it is that different sources of identification for both transmasculine and transfeminine people’s experience with gender can be found within it.

On the one hand: the creature, an individual whose creator conceived as “male”. But then again, gender is a performance, gender is something taught (Preciado, 2018, p. 27) and nobody told the creature how to dance to that rhythm. Instead, the creature was explained how the world works through Safie’s feminine lens, listening to the lessons that were given to her about how to behave and understand everything. And then, looking at the image reflected in a pond, the creature realized they were not the same Other because, unlike in hers, beauty will not buy society’s acceptance in that case.

Still, there is an attempt at getting affirmation from the old man of the De Lacey family, the grandfather that, because of his blindness, is not able to see the creature and have prejudices based on the appearance that is offered but only on the words spoken and the kindness shown. But unfortunately, the other De Laceys are sighted individuals —although blind because of their prejudices—, and what they behold is someone far too big and too coarse. A threat.

That is very much the same risk transgender women face when going out as people who may or may not conform to society’s view of gender presentation, because as it has already been demonstrated, transgender people who are perceived as such face much more problems (like bigotry or unequal treatment among many others) than cis or cis-passing people (Dias et all, 2021, p.695), because, just like the creature, they are regarded as less than human, something unnatural and wretched.

On the other hand, Victor Frankenstein: pale, thin, dramatic, and beautifully at the verge of death at every point during the book (Cale, 2018). He would have been such a gorgeous lady of his time…if he had ever been one.

His resemblance to the transmasculine experience is even more tangible than the creature’s, from his obsession with the male figure to the “natural philosophy” that his father disapproved of and that helped him create, with the help of science, a “male” body that destroyed his conection with his family (as homophobic people threaten queernes does to people, being a threat to others, to the community and to oneself (Benshoff, 1997, p.1)).

Long story short, Victor Frankenstein’s inner struggle can be read as that of a transgender man who, facing the rejection of his family and his own internalized prejudices tries to come back and live his life as he normally would have done before realizing about his queerness, but the shadow of the man he has created —the man he is— follows him around throughout his life because as much as he tries to get rid of him, the creature will keep coming back as he is a part of him that he projects as unconnected to him because he refuses to accept it. That last point is clear at the end of the book, because it takes for Victor Frankenstein to die for the creature to do so too.

Bibliography quoted (in order of appearance):

Shelley, M. (1818) Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor & Jones.

Fox, C. (2017) Why Frankenstein’s Monster Haunts Queer Art. Retrieved June 11, 2022 from New York Times Style Magazine at https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/13/t-magazine/art/frankenstein-monster-queer-art.html

Preciado, P. B. (2018) Countersexual Manifesto, Columbia University Press.

Dias, C. K., da Rocha, L. R. L., Tateo, L., & Marsico, G. (2021) “Passing” and its effects on Brazilian transgender people’s sense of belonging to society: A theoretical study. Journal of Community & Applied Social Psychology, 31(6), 609-702.

Cale, J. (2018) Drop Dead Gorgeous: 19th Century Beauty Tips for the Aspiring Consumptive. Retrieved June 12, 2022 at https://dirtysexyhistory.com/2018/05/16/drop-dead-gorgeous-19th-century-beauty-tips-for-the-aspiring-consumptive/

Benshoff, H. M. (1997) Monsters in the Closet: Homosexuality and the Horror Film, Manchester University Press.

#frankenstein #idk how to tag this #classic literature #frankenstein daily

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time-is-restored · 11 months

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more whinging bc i got negative hours of sleep last night and i need to stay awake somehow lol

cw: discussions of misogyny + abuse

god the more i think abt it the more exhausted i get by the gender politics of ted lasso.

like god i do genuinely think that rebecca's arc in s1 is one of the best depictions of a mean + cruel woman ive ever seen on TV specifically bc it manages to thread the needle so well? like they never tilt her balance too much and doom her to being either totally fucked up + evil OR totally soft and sweet and harmless. and ted's 'divorce makes u crazy' response to her apology STILL makes me crazy wrt the sheer. understanding and empathy there, and she's just. given so much more depth than ive come to expect, especially for an ensemble cast sitcom w a (then) p short run time.

but my fucking god. we literally don't learn a fucking thing about michelle. im pretty sure the one (1) concrete thing we know about her comes in the fucking finale, and it's that she's a teacher for... something. the two most important people in ted's life and we don't know anything abt them! they're literally just empty symbols representing the importance of Family™, and that vacancy does nothing but weigh ted's storyline down!

like, i liked michelle's episode/storyline in s1, bc the blinding novelty of a woman instigating a divorce not being the Actual Devil, as well as a just. generally very empathetic + nuanced take on how divorce shakes out between two ppl who really care for each other, was so 'WAIT TV CAN DO THIS??' that i felt satisfied with that being Her Arc™. divorce happens, life happens, people fall out of love, and it hurts but its ultimately okay. the show, at the time, was ultimately abt a football club and how caring abt that football club helped everyone around it.

but then the show sticks around, and her continued absence just... raises a lot of questions? how did the conversation abt ted going overseas happen? what conversations did they have abt henry? how long term was it intended to be? did money really not factor into it all? like it's one thing for a character's backstory to be vague when it's not really the focus of attention (s1 was ultimately rebecca's story before anyone else's), but when it's the load bearing stone of their '''''''arc''''''' in s3...????

like. god. and then it fucking infects every other woman on the show!

sassy + nora? well sure we'll give you a softball - you can have one (1) scene where a woman is able to resolutely and firmly reject a man asking her out without immediately being seen as cruel or gameplayey (not that the audience will see it that way! she's already a lecherous temptress for them!), but neither of them will ever be able to speak to rebecca onscreen again, even after the heart-wrenching scenes in s1 CLEARLY establishing them as a beating heart of rebecca's arc.

shandy? nope, don't even think abt her motivations/drives, just forget her. simi? LMAOOO imagine a black woman getting a personality beyond righteous anger. jack? three-four episodes, and we learn so little abt her that her conflict with keeley - which SHOULD'VE have been a huge emotional beat - just feels like a kick in the teeth (and while, yes, i absolutely agree that in a real world context, jack's rejection of keeley would be largely motivated by class, in Ted Lasso Land™ rebecca is just as rich - if not richer? - and we're never once encouraged to interrogate her priorities).

barbara's the one that really makes me miserable, bc i feel like on a show with less run time, she could've played REALLY well. she's a great contrast to keeley, has an amazing delivery, and the scene where keeley + her first discuss the snowglobes shows that she has the potential for some really moving vulnerability + pathos. but instead they give SO many of keeley's scenes to characters who ultimately get written out, so when barbara stays it's like... okay? sure? like, i was so stoked that barbara survived the Mass Exodus of side characters that i didn't wanna look the gift horse in the mouth but... wasn't the last thing we saw of her and keeley's relationship like. general resentment + distrust abt the shandy debacle? when did that improve? how???

i don't think i'll ever have enough mental real estate to explain how disappointed keeley + rebecca's 'arcs' in s3 made me, and at least there's the saving grace that. virtually no one other than jamie got a coherent arc this season, so at least it was on some levels an egalitarian screw up. but fuck dude. keeley was just forced to react to bad things that were happening to her, and we got to see her do her job (which, unbelievably, does actually involve things other than being an awkward manager!) precisely one (1) time.

i even like rebecca's arc on paper - i think it's really cool to see a character backslide so intensely in terms of obsessing over and struggling to come to terms w a past relationship, especially an abusive one, bc like. yeah! that shit sticks with you for longer than a season! and beyond that, seeing her regain her sense of self and what SHE actually gives a shit about was oftentimes just as sweet as s1. but her scenes were poorly connected, and she had to carry WAY too much of a burden as the Resident Speech Giver for any of her internal characterisation to make sense. like, sorry, but it's kind of hard to believe a character's Going Through It™ when they have to spent near 100% of their screen time giving Take It From Me, Kid, speeches. and then she's not even given a real opportunity TO fuck up + sabotage her relationships, even when she starts getting really weird w ted! it's all just so meaningless and like nothing that she does is ever going to matter. she never speaks to zava again, we don't get to see her interact w bex or kate, her pleas to ted get COMPLETELY shut down...

but the thing that REALLY makes me sick is this complete lack of interiority absolutely butchers the characters of jade + jane, who are otherwise RIFE with potential. like, jade is a completely unflinching, unapologetic asshole to nate + his family, and that's never interrogated. even in Sitcom Land™, it's more than reasonable to view jade's actions as racist, especially when she doesn't give the same treatment to others (at least not as i recall? honestly i usually watch the taste of athens scenes while peeking out behind my hands, so i could 100% be wrong here). and yet, suddenly, and completely inexplicably, she's charmed by nate. she wants to give him the time of day. she finds him attractive, and wants to date him, and generally take control of his life and force him into a decision that is literally the exact opposite of what he expressed wanting to do. except even that LAST thing isn't allowed to be interrogated, bc god FORBID a woman is enough of a fully realised creation to actually be culpable of the terrible shit they do!

and fucking jane??? beard's so head-over-heels for this woman that the emotional abuse + extremely controlling tendencies don't even make him bat an eye, and we don't get to know anything about her? she's literally just the suggestion of an alluring woman! good at sex! good at chess! fuck you if you wanna know more, even though the show ENDLESSLY hits you over the head with how painful their relationship is for beard - beard who is given virtually no other storyline. like, i literally can't read brendan's refusal to label jane as abusive as anything other than like. that bio-essentialism shit where ppl 'women are better than men <3' so hard that they end up genuinely and wholeheartedly arguing that someone's sex defines their morals - or worse, that their sex is a deciding factor in determining whether someone's actions are good or bad. not context, but a legitimate 'add points if woman, take away points if man' variable.

like that's so feminism 101 it's legitimately almost worse than nothing. that's like getting as far as 'hey so you know how we're all inundated with both implicit + explicit messaging abt what is Valued and Good for women vs men to-' before shoving ur earplugs in and going 'if you are oppressed by society we'll automatically stamp a 'good person' label on ur head and now we don't have to think abt any of our biases + internalised beliefs ever again <333'. the most useless and fucking pointless stand against the patriarchy ever, especially coming from the same show that ENDLESSLY slots characters into the 'loving gf/wife' archetype and then give them Literally Nothing Else. my comrades you have literally just done madonna/whore 2: oops all madonnas! this is not liberation!!!! this is a miserable cage!!!!!!!!!

im just. higgins' wife. mae. trent's daughter and anonymous 'her'. the women at the hotel and the restaurants and the firm and the fucking physios, fuck - dani's gfs! who are they? what do they want? where do they go when the camera stops rolling? can anyone hear me?? hello??? hello???? brendan hunt i am OUTSIDE YOUR HOUUUUUUSE

#ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso meta #ted lasso critical #dead girls by p.enelope s.cott has been stuck in my head for approximately a month bc of this fucking show #its so fucking nuts being treated to rebecca + keeley in s1 and then slowly realising w dawning horror that its literally only down from #here. and also listen nothing but respect to my comrades out there who can take michelle + henry as written #and immediately + painlessly extrapolate from their significance in ted's life to viewing them as like. important figures narratively #but to me they literally never got beyond the carboard cutout stage? like. yes thank you if u love ur family its sad when u leave them.#why'd he leave them then lol.#LIKE. if both michelle AND henry are just these. passive vessels who are neither invested in ted staying OR leaving london #and the only motivation we're EVER given for ted's move is 'michelle wanted space'. like sorry for wanting an actual deconstruction of ted'#motivations rather than the worst mystery box of all time! if i wanted a story abt 'man misses family :( please don't ask any questions abt #the family in question-' i could just close my eyes and imagine a stock image of a sad business man.#wagh. ted bud they gave you so much potential + so many demons and then just wiped them away w no exploration outside of like. two #scenes w sharon. u are also in this cage king but at least u got a good two seasons of mc character energy before they locked the door :(#something something sorry for having an ace attorney witness stand breakdown when the show i liked Was Bad. do u still want to be mutuals

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