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whatacaitastrophe · 5 days

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Everything Has Changed - Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Seven Nation Army" - Stevie Howie

Chapter Warnings: Idiots talking about their feelings.

Spotify Playlist: Here

Author Notes: thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting on this fic (and the first one)! if you are interested in supporting me in other ways, I have a Ko-Fi link <3

i also have a discord server! it was created to coincide with my twitch channel but you do NOT need to follow/subscribe/watch my twitch streams to come hang out with us <3 we talk a lot about bg3 and share memes and fics.

Chapter 11: Talkin' to Myself at Night

The night of what she’d started referring to as “the incident” in her mind, Fallon didn’t sleep. Her mind was too busy. It was one thing to imagine her boyfriend and ex-boyfriend kissing, or imagine herself as the middle portion of a vampire and sorcerer sandwich, but it was another entirely for those fantasies to become a reality. Add in the fact that “the incident” in question occurred without her consent, and Fallon was left feeling truly unsure of how she felt, or if coming to some sort of arrangement with Astarion and Gale was something she even wanted anymore.

Fallon felt betrayed, and not just by Astarion. Gale swore that he never wanted to hurt Fallon again, and it took him less than a month to break that promise. Not only that, but once upon a time, Gale told Fallon that he was only interested in monogamous relationships. Fallon also knew that if the situation were reversed, and she were the one kissing Astarion without Gale’s consent, that Gale probably would have broken up with her on the spot upon catching them. The hypocrisy was rampant, and the hole in her heart that began to fill after rekindling her friendship with Gale was leaking again because of it. All of the reasons Fallon told herself that she couldn’t open her heart to Gale again (beyond the sexual relationship with Gale and Astarion she’d already fantasized about) were completely validated less than twenty-four hours after she’d even realized it was something she might want.

Then there was Astarion: the man who’d seen how fragile her heart was, glued the pieces Gale broke back together, promised to take care with it, and then promptly dropped it on the ground to shatter at the first opportunity. When she first met Astarion, he’d been all honeyed words of affirmation with a perfectly crafted persona to entice Fallon and the rest of their companions into trusting him as a method of survival. Was that still all she was to the vampire? A means to an end to ensure he survived another day? Had Astarion been playing the long con this whole time, and Fallon fell for it? Deep down, Fallon knew this wasn’t true; that Astarion loved her fiercely and genuinely. However, the logical part of her that knew this was currently being completely overpowered by her insecurities and anxieties, both of which were screaming at her for being stupid enough to trust that Astarion would keep his promise.

It all hurt, and the thing Fallon hated the most was that the person she would normally go to when she was hurting was the source of her pain. She thought about using her sending stone to contact Shadowheart, or Karlach, but Fallon could hear her friends’ voices in her mind already.

Shadowheart would tell her to go home– to go back to Baldur’s Gate and leave the vampire and the sorcerer to suffer the consequences of their actions and reflect on what they lost simply because they forgot to use their brains. “If they’re stupid enough to make that mistake, then they deserve each other, and certainly do not deserve you.”

Karlach, on the other hand, would probably jump straight to murder. Murder wasn’t usually Karlach’s go-to method of solving problems. Unless, of course, someone she cared about got hurt. With how happy-go-lucky Karlach was most of the time, it was easy to forget that the tiefling-turned-illithid once served in Zariel’s army, and that she killed a lot of people on Zariel’s behalf. “Say the word, soldier, and I’ll meet you in Waterdeep, sneak up on them in an alley, and make their deaths look like an accident.”

The solutions her friends would likely offer Fallon were not actually reasonable, or helpful, because they were just different forms of taking the easy way out, of running away from her problems. In the end it wouldn’t solve anything, and the person that was most likely to suffer most would still be Fallon. After all, how she felt about Astarion hadn’t suddenly changed in the wake of everything. How she’d started to feel about Gale again hadn’t gone away. Walking away from the two halves of her heart would do nothing but break her further.

At the end of the day, Fallon wanted to give Gale and Astarion the benefit of the doubt. She wanted to believe that “the incident” had been as unexpected and unplanned as they said it was. She wanted to believe that Astarion and Gale actually cared as deeply for her as they claimed.

Most importantly, she wanted them , and at the end of a sleepless night into a restless morning, that was where Fallon’s mind landed. The men who claimed to love her so deeply would get a chance to prove their love, but she would make them work for it. There would be no glossing over their infidelity and jumping right into a conversation about what being “together” as a threesome would look like. No, she fully intended to make the vampire and the sorcerer squirm, and to sit with the consequences of their actions for a while; to make them see earning her forgiveness was not as simple as saying “Sorry, it was an accident, we love you!”

Fallon slipped out of the inn in Daggerford as soon as she was certain the shops were open, and purchased her own tent, as she had no intention of sharing one with Astarion for the next three days while they made the final leg of their journey to Waterdeep. Fallon knew herself, and having Astarion that close would increase the opportunity for her to have a moment of weakness, to fold too soon.

When she returned to the inn with her new tent slung over her shoulder in a bag, Astarion and Gale were in the tavern, where the latter was eating breakfast. Astarion noticed her enter the tavern first, and he nudged Gale, nodding in Fallon’s direction. Gale looked at Fallon hopefully as she made her way towards the table. Fallon did not sit down as she observed the two men. They both looked tired, and Fallon did not even feel bad about the fact that knowing they slept like shit too brought her a little bit of joy.

“I’ve decided I’ll be sleeping in my own tent for the next couple of days.” She explained, acknowledging the bag over her shoulder. Astarion’s eyes flickered sadly as he realized they were not forgiven yet, and that his actions would cost him more than a single night without Fallon in his arms.

“What you did, what it means…Quite honestly, just looking at the two of you hurts. You don’t get to treat me like that and expect me to carry on like nothing happened, even if the idea of the three of us being an “us” is something I want to talk about. I refuse,” Fallon’s voice was cold, and she could feel her throat threatening to close up as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Gods dammit, she was not going to cry in the middle of the fucking tavern. She furiously blinked back her tears, averting her gaze from Astarion and Gale since looking at them was just making it worse. “I need more time. When I’m ready to talk, I’ll come to you. Be ready to leave in an hour.” She did not stick around to see them silently nod their heads as they agreed to her terms, or the way that they guiltily looked at each other because they made her cry (again).

Fallon did not speak to Gale or Astarion unless absolutely necessary for the next three days. In fact, a passerby would have assumed that somebody had cast a Silencing spell over their group, with how quiet their journey from Daggerford to Waterdeep was. Fallon’s silent treatment made Gale and Astarion hesitant to even speak to each other in her presence, and while Fallon hadn'tt asked them to do that, if they wanted to deprive themselves of verbal communication until she was ready to speak to them both as some form of self-punishment, she also wasn't going to correct them.

At night, after she retired to her tent for the evening, Fallon often heard them talking to each other in hushed tones as she drifted off to sleep. Each conversation was entirely about her, how terrible they felt for hurting her so badly that she was still ignoring them, and when they thought she would speak to them again.

“I didn’t think it was possible for her to be quiet for this long,” Gale muttered to Astarion on the eve of the third day. “How much longer do you believe this will last?”

“I’m not sure, but if she didn’t deign to speak to us for another fortnight, would you blame her? I consider us lucky that she’s even considering speaking to us again at all,” Astarion countered, sighing heavily, and Fallon smiled softly to herself as she listened. “We’ll reach Waterdeep tomorrow, so maybe she’ll be ready to talk once we get to your tower?”

“I hope so,” Gale said wistfully. “Speaking of which, I got a hold of Tara. Everything should be ready when we arrive.”

“Excellent. Gods, I hope this works. I wouldn’t blame Fallon for ignoring us for another fortnight if she wished, but that doesn’t mean I want her to. I didn’t realize it was possible to miss someone you see every day.”

Though Fallon could have guessed that Astarion missed her (probably Gale, too) by the way they looked at her whenever she’d grant either of them any brief acknowledgement in the last three days, it was still nice to hear the vampire say it out loud. Giving Astarion and Gale the silent treatment had been harder for Fallon than she thought it would be, because every time she acknowledged them, the hopeful look on their faces, the optimistic thought that, perhaps, the worst of her hurt and anger might be over, nearly broke her resolve. Not speaking to them unless absolutely necessary had also made Fallon miss them , too. By the time they rode through the city entrance to Waterdeep, the deepest parts of the hurt Fallon felt because of their actions had passed. The pain wasn’t completely gone, but the idea of talking to Gale and Astarion about it didn’t reduce her to tears anymore. That was Fallon’s internal sign that she was ready for this conversation, and perhaps, to begin down the path to forgiveness.

The City of Splendours was just as beautiful as the name would suggest, and Fallon was actually starting to think that Gale had somehow managed to undersell his hometown. She couldn’t help but watch Gale’s face as he took in the city as they passed through the streets. Fallon couldn’t remember the last time she saw Gale look so happy. In fact, Fallon wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever seen Gale as happy as he was in that moment.

Gale looked back at Fallon, still beaming as they rode beside each other. “If you’ll allow me to take the lead, I will escort us to my tower.” She nodded, pulling back on her horse’s reins slightly so Gale could pass, and even that small acknowledgement made Gale’s smile so much brighter. Of course, finding Gale’s tower wouldn’t have exactly been difficult even if she and Astarion had been on their own. The ornate tower was centrally located, and arguably one of the tallest buildings she could see. To her surprise, there were people waiting to take their horses to a nearby stable when they arrived, and a small bit of sadness filled Fallon as she kissed her own horse’s nose for the final time, at least until they returned. It wasn’t like the horses could go through the portal to Asha with them, and no matter how long they remained in Waterdeep, Fallon had a feeling they’d mostly walk.

The quiet filling the air as Fallon, Gale, and Astarion entered the landing level of Gale’s tower was a different kind of silence to the one they’d been sitting in for the last several days. Fallon and Astarion were in too much awe to speak, and Gale was just so happy to be home that he looked like he was trying not to cry. “It’s beautiful, Gale.” Fallon said softly as they ascended the stairs to the next level, where Tara was waiting for them in the sitting room.

“Mr. Dekarios! It is so lovely to see you sir, you’re looking much better than you were the last time I saw you– even if you still haven’t shaved that horrid thing on your face. Nice to see you both again, too.” Tara greeted them.

“Hi Tara.” Fallon giggled, not able to help herself. She remembered Gale lamenting about how much the tressym hated his long hair and scruffy face, but Gale liked it, so it stayed. Fallon liked it, too, so she was glad that Gale’s companion hadn’t managed to bully him into getting rid of it.

Gale sighed, but the smile on his face never faded as he shook his head at Tara. “It’s lovely to see you as well, Tara. I’ve missed you,” he squatted down so he could scratch beneath the tressym’s chin. When he stood again, he clapped his hands together. “Is everything in order?”

Tara hopped onto the back of the sofa. “Everything is in order and still on schedule,” she confirmed, and Fallon looked back and forth between Gale and Astarion with a curious look on her face. “Is what in order?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Tara was referring to whatever plan Astarion and Gale concocted to get back in her good graces, but there was a schedule?

Astarion removed his facial covering now that they were indoors again, and he gave her a sly look in reply. “You’ll find out soon enough, darling, but I’m afraid you’ll need to remain in the dark just a bit longer.”

Gale’s look matched Astarion’s, and suddenly Fallon found herself regretting putting the two of them in a situation to conspire against her. “Indeed. On that note, I’m afraid we have to kick you out for a bit,” Fallon frowned as Gale continued. “Not to worry, though! Tara has agreed to act as your guide while you explore the city”

Fallon opened her mouth to argue– she’d really been looking forward to just taking a bath and mentally preparing herself for the conversation she intended to have with the vampire and the sorcerer standing before her; but before she could say anything, Astarion cut her off as he reached into his pocket for a small satchel that had the telltale jingle of coin inside, offering it to her. “I realize we’ve not given you much of a reason to trust us recently, but I promise you won’t regret it. Please.” His eyes were soft and pleading, the closest to a puppy-eyed expression Fallon had ever seen Astarion make. Gale was already rubbing off on him.

If they really went this far out of their way to plan something for her, the least she could do is play along. Fallon let out a resigned sigh and nodded. “Lead the way, Tara.” She gestured to the door and relief washed over Gale and Astarion’s faces, the latter looked like he’d kiss Fallon if she let him. The tressym hopped down from the back of the sofa and made her way towards the door. “This way, miss Fallon.” Fallon nodded in goodbye to Astarion and Gale, smiling softly at them, and she followed Tara out.

Once back outside the tower, Tara hopped up onto Fallon’s shoulder, causing the elf to let out a noise of surprise. “Forgive me, miss Fallon, it’s just easier to travel like this– I fear you’d lose me rather quickly otherwise. Our first stop isn’t far.”

“First stop?” Fallon asked warily.

“Oh yes, this is a multiple-stop outing, miss Fallon. Astarion and Mr. Dekarios gave me explicit instructions.”

“Why am I suddenly nervous?” Fallon mused as she weaved through the streets of Waterdeep, Not a single passerby seemed to be surprised to see a tressym sitting on her shoulder, which meant things like this were just…normal here. She followed Tara’s instructions as she took in her surroundings.

Fallon didn’t know why it surprised her so much, but their first stop was a bookshop. She should have known, since this was an outing at least half-planned by Gale Dekarios. The shop was quiet, with only around twenty or so other patrons milling about and browsing books. “Hello, Norbert!” Tara greeted someone as they entered. The halfling sitting on a high top stool behind the counter looked up from his book, and as soon as he saw Fallon and Tara, his face brightened. “Ah, Tara! I was wondering when you’d be by. Let me go grab your order.”

The halfling slid from his stool and disappeared into the back of his shop. “Tara, did Gale send me out with you to run his errands?” She laughed.

“Technically, yes, but also no. We’re not here for an order for Mr. Dekarios.”

Confusion etched across Fallon’s features. “Are we running your errands?”

“Goodness, I thought Mr. Dekarios said you were a bright woman,” the tressym chastised, and Fallon frowned. “He placed an order for you, dear.”

Fallon’s face immediately softened, and her heart swelled in her chest. Of course Gale would use books as a means of re-gaining favor with someone. The halfling returned with a small stack of books in his hands, and Fallon immediately recognized the book on the bottom of the stack just from its spine. She waited patiently for the halfling to set the books on his counter before touching them. “Here you are, all present and accounted for.”

Fallon reached for the books and began scanning the titles– the first three were all romance novels, but the last book in the stack made Fallon gasp. It was a first edition copy of the book about the boy wizard. How had Gale managed to find this? The book was printed almost twenty years ago. Fallon carefully opened it, and a folded piece of parchment slipped out, fluttering to the floor. Tara jumped onto the counter as Fallon bent down to retrieve it, and she realized it was a note, addressed to her. Fallon unfolded the parchment and recognized the neat, precise script with which it was written.

“ Dearest Fallon,

As you know, when we met, one of the first things that drew me to you was our shared love of literature. Once upon a time I recommended three romance novels to you, and promised to procure copies for you after we saved the world. These are a bit delayed on delivery, seeing as we saved the world two years ago at this point, but I do hope you enjoy them all the same. I’d planned on taking you to this shop to purchase copies for you once we arrived in Waterdeep anyway and then, well, you know what happened.

You’ve obviously read the last one in the stack, but you mentioned Astarion has been hogging your copy, so I had Norbert find another for you. Admittedly, I was quite surprised when he told me that he had a first edition copy in his stockroom! What a treasure, indeed, just like its new owner.

I realize that it might seem like I am trying to buy your forgiveness, but I can assure you that is not the case. I would have bought them for you anyway, because you deserve to start doing things you enjoy again, after spending so long sacrificing yourself and your needs for the greater good. Though I do look forward to (hopefully) hearing your thoughts on the romance books once you’ve finished them. They’re quite riveting.

Yours,

Gale”

Fallon’s smile grew wider and wider as she read Gale’s not. The sorcerer might not have been trying to buy her forgiveness, but it was definitely helping. “Thank you, Norbert. These are lovely. I can’t wait to read them.”

The halfling beamed at her. “Enjoy! Gale has excellent taste, so I doubt you’ll be disappointed.”

Tara jumped back onto Fallon’s shoulder. “Tara, do we have time for me to browse for a bit, to see if I find anything else I might like?”

“We do! Mr. Dekarios had a feeling you might want to browse,” Tara confirmed, and Fallon smiled. “He said to tell you to pick out whatever you’d like, and Norbert will put it on his tab.”

Of course Gale had a tab at his local bookshop, Fallon was not even surprised. She spent the next half-hour browsing the shelves and managed to limit herself to two additional books. After all, Gale already bought her four and she didn’t want to seem like she was taking advantage of his kindness (and his desire to get back on her good side). With her books stashed in her bag of holding, Fallon exited the shop and looked around. “Where to next, Tara?”

The next shop they visited was a dress shop, and Fallon did not even need to ask which man instructed Tara to bring her here. Just as Norbert had, the elven woman running the shop recognized Tara, and she immediately greeted them both with a bright smile as she pulled a note out of a drawer on her side of the counter. Once again, the note was addressed to Fallon and was written in a familiar, elegant script.

“Fallon, my love,

I believe I still owe you a new dress after ruining yours at the Winter Solstice. The shop has your measurements, and I told them what colors you prefer, so they hopefully pulled a few things already. I look forward to seeing whichever breathtaking option you choose.

I love you.

xx,

Astarion”

Even the notes they’d each written for her were entirely in character. Gale’s verbosity extended even to paper, while Astarion was right to the point, and each note left Fallon’s heart stuttering in her chest. Sure enough, as Fallon pocketed the note from Astarion, the shopkeeper had walked across the shop to a small rack of dresses separate from everything else. Fallon smiled at the assortment of dark blue, burgundy, and black dresses that hung there. “Tara, I don’t suppose you know if there’s a specific occasion I should be shopping for, or if I’m simply just to choose any dress that suits my fancy?”

“I’ve been instructed to tell you that there are plans this evening for which you might want to have a new dress but, and I quote, 'she could show up wearing rags off the floor of the Elfsong Tavern and she’d still look beautiful, so it doesn’t matter.' ”

Fallon snorted with laughter. Even Tara’s delivery of the instructions sounded like Astarion. “Well alright then.”

There was a stool next to the rack of clothing, and Tara jumped onto it and sat down. “While I am not privy to all of the details, Mr. Dekarios alluded to the…transgressions he and Astarion committed together. As a result, he and Astarion are now both desperate to prove how much they care for you, and are equally as desperate to earn your forgiveness,”

“Well that’s certainly one way of putting it.” Fallon hummed as she began to examine the dresses on the rack before her with intent.

“So, miss Fallon, if I may make one tiny suggestion? One female to another?” There was a mischievous tone in Tara’s voice that piqued Fallon’s curiosity, and she tore her gaze from the dresses to look at the tressym.

“Let’s hear it.” Fallon agreed.

“Make them crawl.”

Chapter List

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #astarion #female tav #bg3 fanfic #gale x tav #astarion x tav #bloodweave #bloodweave x tav #astarion x gale x tav #bg3 fan fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 fic

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mad-voidling · 8 months

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(Shoutout to @house-of-mirrors for inspiring the pic!! Go check out their work it’s great!)

Figure it was time to introduce my own silly little guy!! The picrew is slightly jank cause their design is only roughly humanoid lol, but I’m okay with it! I already have some more of its story planned out in my head besides the stuff I’m going to be putting below the cut, so feel free to ask about anything and/or send a calling card my way!! Their name is the same as my profile name

Info

(minor spoilers for Heart’s Desire)

- Agender and Aroace, not exactly out but it hasn’t had any trouble with people questioning them about it (We’re living underground with devils and people with tentacles for f___’s sake!!)

- Awoke in New Newgate knowing their name and nothing else about itself. When asked about this initially, they would seem to space out for a moment before jolting back to reality and seeming to not have heard the question at all. Thus, most don’t ask anymore

- It’s constantly wrapped up in layers of cloth and such, and no one’s seen what’s underneath it, not even Idris themselves. They’ve tried, but for unknown reasons, it’s physically incapable of removing any of it itself. When anyone else tries, they fly into an uncontrollable panic that they never seem to remember once they’ve calmed down

- Quite tall, but not freakishly so yet, probably around seven feet or so

- Has an almost instinctual loathing and mistrust of Mr. Stones, has complicated feelings on the Masters in general but will choose any of them over Stones

- Sometimes, if it focuses hard enough, it can see the night sky, full of brilliant and vibrant stars

- Has a tendency to hoard things that catch their eye, usually shiny stuff but really anything they find interesting. Their organization of their collection seems chaotic, but there’s a logic to it that only it knows

- Occasionally cloisters itself in its lab for extended periods when it gets really focused on some research

- Not a fan of alcoholic beverages, has mastered the art of subtly dumping drinks into nearby plants

- Has… Complex feelings about the other players of the Marvellous. Their relationships with the Bishop and Beechwood are the simplest because they don’t interact/talk much outside of the game. It’s somewhat concerned about both of them for different reasons, but isn’t about to barge into their lives or anything (Besides, what could they really do? Collecting candles isn’t a crime, and Beechwood is a bit beyond help at this point)

- Certainly not friends with Virginia, but they have a mutual respect for each other. They met even before Idris became a player of the Marvellous when they were both after the Correspondence Stones, which Idris won far and square. Their lives have overlapped several times since then, and they’ve learned to get along fairly well

- Not a big fan of the Manager, finds his whole hotel uncomfortable and doesn’t trust him in the slightest. That isn’t helped when it finds out about the whole Tristram thing, which it thinks is a bit too convenient for their liking based on what they know. Also sick of him making his personal issues the problem of literally everyone else (it’s not our fault you’re not over your divorce yet bro). When the Horrors:tm: get to be to much they’ll stay in the Mirror-Marches, thank you very much

- Speaking of Tristram, Idris has a big soft spot for him. It understands what it’s like not to know yourself, to brush your fingertips against memories but not be able to grab hold of them. As soon as it gets the chance it gets his mind back and returns to it to him with zero hesitation. Once everything is said and done I imagine that the two of them + Cora remain good friends

- Mr. Pages confuses Idris immensely. Though the Master doesn’t usually seek them out, when the two do interact, it acts overly familiar with them. Not to an uncomfortable degree, but it’s still strange, and when it breaks into their wine stores, it almost seems to want to tell them something, but never lets it slip. Hmm. They also both share an interest in books, so that and the Marvellous usually ends up being the focus of their conversations

- Loves their work as a Correspondent, despite the inherent danger that comes with working with the Correspondence. It feels comfortable to them, as if they’re coming home. The letters seem to flow out onto whatever it’s writing on, which has led to them getting lost in thought a few times and their clothes catching on fire

#fallen london #fl #oc #my oc #character intro #Idris Nightlocke #fallen london oc

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cosmicjoke · 4 months

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Hi 👋 I hope you are doing well. I have meaning to ask you but I’m not sure if it’s good question, is gojo really dead? It’s just I really finding it difficult to believe. I mean when Toji brutally stabbed Gojo, he used reversed curse technique. I was talking about it with my friend but she believed Gojo was killed. I still don’t understand some of the techniques used in jjk but it will be very helpful if you can explain.

Thank you

Hi there!

Hope you're doing well too, and thank you for the ask!

Well, I have to sadly answer that it does indeed appear that Gojo is actually dead in the manga, yes. But in my view, it makes about zero sense, for the reasons you stated. Gojo previously told Toji that he "should have cut off" his head, indicating that was the only guaranteed way to actually put him down for good. Sukana cut Gojo's body in half, meaning his separated his torso from his legs. It's also been previously established that cursed energy comes from the head, so... again, it really doesn't make sense that this particular injury would kill Gojo. But it's been something like 20 chapters since he died, or whatever number it is, and there's been no indication whatsoever of him still being alive or coming back, despite all the fan theories that were floating around.

The way he was apparently killed off is one of the main reasons I've pretty much lost interest in JJK. Not that Gojo was killed, but the way it was handled. It was terrible, and nonsensical, and relied on not simply deceiving the reader through misdirection, but flat out lying to them, and as a reader, I really didn't appreciate that. On top of it all, Gojo's death was horrifically anticlimactic and, ultimately, meaningless. His fight with Sukana was meaningless. It amounted to nothing, and changed nothing. Not a very good send off for the supposedly most powerful sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. His death was also done off-screen, another bizarre way to handle getting rid of one of the story's main characters. At the end of one chapter, Gojo is declared the winner, and at the start of the very next, he's just... dead. Terrible writing, terrible execution.

As for explaining how Sukana did it, I'm right there with you in not understanding most of the cursed techniques, and this is another of my main criticisms of the manga. It's just way, WAY too bogged down in convoluted, never ending explanations for one cursed technique after another, none of which really do anything or serve any purpose beyond confusing the hell out of the reader. Sukana has some form of "cutting" technique, and the ridiculous explanation for how he was able to get passed Gojo's infinity had something to do with cutting "the world" in half. I honestly have no clue what that's even supposed to mean. If he cut the world in half, shouldn't everything IN the world have been cut in half, along with Gojo? Beats me. We aren't given any, real explanation for it that I can decipher.

Anyway, yeah, it does, at this point, appear that Gojo really is dead and isn't coming back. The story has moved on to every other character battling Sukana now, with hardly a mention of Gojo since. Which also makes no sense to me. Gojo was always spoken of in awe-inspiring terms. Everyone always talked about him like he was orders of magnitudes more powerful than anyone else. The way they spoke about him, it was evident that anyone trying to fight him would just die immediately. And yet, somehow, Sukana, who's just killed Gojo, all while supposedly holding back, hasn't just done away with every other opponent immediately. Great logic there, huh? We didn't even get to see any of the other characters reactions to losing Gojo. All that build up, years and years of it, since the start of this manga, all amounting to diddly squat. Can you tell I'm mad about it, lol?

Anyway, I hope I was able to answer your question. I could be wrong. Maybe Gojo will magically appear, alive and well, somehow. But I'm not holding my breath. It's all just very disappointing.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #sukana

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missingn000 · 1 year

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I LOVE READING YOUR THOUGHTS. i’ll send all of the others and feel free to choose whichever one(s) you want to talk about and have the energy to write about. no pressure at all :) for this one: anything about kashimo!

i'm so reassured to hear that!! sometimes i feel like i'm just rambling 😭 thank you for sending me these requests! and for giving me freedom to talk about anything kashimo -- because you know i just gotta talk about their relationship with mahito.

as i've mentioned before, those two make me literally insane. i have a playlist for their dynamic because i think about them so much. it's tough to talk about them without delving into major spoiler territory since they've only had one scene together, so i'll limit this analysis to themes implied in that scene and what i've mentioned elsewhere.

kashimo and mahito: pride, ego, and protecting something beyond oneself

analysis below cut!

as we know in canon, kashimo lives to fight strong opponents. their singular goal in life is fighting sukuna. however, when studying the hakari vs kashimo fight in the manga, i noticed something interesting. when kashimo loses the fight, they tell hakari to kill them.

...bruh. WHAT? this is someone who has traveled 400 years into the future to fight sukuna. it's likely they allowed kjk to brutally mutilate their body into a consumable object as part of their binding vow. so this request really, really stood out to me.

we can conclude that kashimo views defeat in battle to equal defeat in life. after all, if strength is the only thing that determines worth, how could they have any worth if they're defeated? don't get me wrong, i don't think kashimo has self-worth issues, at least none that they're conscious of. i don't believe they have enough emotional intelligence to truly grasp the roots of their outlook. it's a product of their time -- ancient sorcerers valued their pride over their lives. if that pride is gone, it's only logical to them that their life should end, too.

in kashimo's first scene with mahito, many of their lines imply they have a huge yet fragile ego. they snap at mahito for belittling them and instantly decide they're stronger than nanami, who mahito openly reveres, without even knowing anything about nanami beyond mahito thinking he's interesting. mahito, whose emotional intelligence is extremely high, immediately notices this, and continues to provoke them during their conversation, severely annoying his new partner.

clearly, mahito's presence is a hindrance to what they currently think is their life's "purpose." so not only is kashimo irritated with kenjaku for reviving them before sukuna is incarnated and partnering them with someone so irritating, the idea of protecting something disgusts them. they don't hesitate to express this to both mahito and kenjaku.

it's safe to say kashimo will not react well to the idea of caring about something beyond themself, especially when it could jeopardize everything they've worked for. where is the victory in that? the ego, the validation? the victory they're used to is based solely on defeating and killing others. there's no pride in simply making sure someone does not get hurt, especially if it went beyond duty and into, god forbid, personal feelings.

for fuck's sake, we're talking about a curse here. curses have never had any value to sorcerers, ever, let alone in the moral system in which kashimo was raised. how the hell are they supposed to cope with being the first sorcerer in history to actually want to protect a curse? to stay beside him?

wish them luck, yall. they're going to need it. (hint: their character foil, gojo, may or may not have something to say.)

#im having fun coming up with the little taglines summing up these rants #that picture is the same one on the pfpk playlist btw. go check it out. be mentally ill over them with me #patchface & pikachu #tpg

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isthisselfcare · 2 years

Text

Answering a few of the quicker asks today -- I have others I want to write proper posts for at another time, so sorry for the delay!

Crowded Room by Selena Gomez reminds me of you story. Reading it really is better the second time round :) Thank you sm for your creativity, I believe you have created one of the best written novels (including the published ones) that I've read. Would you consider making a playlist for the story?

I thought Crowded Room was a book and I tried to look it up on my Kindle. Right. It’s a song! My brilliance astounds me. But what a beautiful song. The lines about dizziness and the whole room feeling slow-motion are lovely!

On the playlist, I have a collection of songs that vaguely have to do with the story, which I am going to make a separate post for. Thank you for your kind words!

Hi, LOVE your story! I read that you’re doing edits so I’m waiting for that to be done before I bind it (personal use). Any chance you will convert those “--” into actual M dashes during editing? Lol sorry for my picky question

You must send me photos of the bound copy if you take any, I love seeing them! And yes, I hope to finish the edits in the next week. So sorry about my lazy dashing (dashed lazy) habits. I’ll see if I find a spurt of motivation to fix those for you. I should note I prefer the spaced en dash over the closed-up em dash -- the former is more common in British publications (more information on the difference). There, a picky answer to your picky question xx 😂

I'd just like to ask what your irl job is? And! If you're planning to post other dhr fics after this?

I don’t talk much about IRL things under this pseud, so sorry. Things are too easy to triangulate and I am keeping isthisselfcare in a separate bubble for various reasons. On future Dramione, I have no plans at the moment (I am rather wrung out -- desiccated, really -- by the effort of the last year’s work) but never say never, etc.! Thank you very much for your interest!

Are you famous in real life? I feel like you should be if you aren't 😂

Haha, no -- I am the height of mediocrity in all things

Would you consider turning DMATMOOBIL into a Netflix show?

Whom would you choose as your cast for DMATMOOBIL?

YES, and I enjoy the implicit assumption that we could somehow sidestep the nightmarish legal kerfuffle surrounding fanfic and make this a reality

As for the cast, I have stared blankly at this question for five minutes. I haven’t really thought about it as I am awful with faces and have more vivid impressions of personalities than physical appearances! I am open to suggestions for my upcoming Netflix show

Hello you fanfic writer I would like to have a pint with, I have a lot of questions for you but the most pressing for me is: is the skull of Mary Magdalene inspired by Morte, the talking skull in the timeless classic RPG: Planescape Torment?

G&T for me, cheers! I have not heard of this game, but Googling it I found “His sole weapon seems to be his mouth, whether by taunting or biting” which sounds brilliant! Someone ought to write an obscure crossover fic. I ship it

Are u real?

…I am struck by sudden doubt

What's the most bizarre question you've received?

Under this nom de plume, perhaps the one above, haha

Hi! Excellent work, I enjoyed reading it so much! Thank you for sharing. My question is about the arithmancy scene - do you have a background in math at all? I quite enjoyed your explanations. Either way, how did you come up with your understanding of arithmancy?

I always thought arithmancy should be some kind of magical maths beyond divination and sort of… went with it (though Draco does use the predictive elements of the discipline in his explanation). I enjoy reading about pure mathematics & mathematical logic but it is not an area of specialisation. I am pleased you enjoyed it as that was a rather niche inclusion on my part!

What happened to fernsy and the trolls 😭

Why is this question so funny?! Fernsby caught the troll pornographer and did not develop a complex!!

And thank you to everyone who sent me kind words through the asks box, I blush to reblog those but am so touched and will keep them in the inbox to read on grey days

#asks

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tracybirds · 2 years

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Something with EOS

Thank you! Do I have any cheerful songs? We'll have to keep shuffling to find out because this was not it, my bad, rolled No Ordinary Thing by Opshop, inspired by the lyrics “I know it’s not working; knowledge will capture comfort one day.”

Failed mission, in the moment, unnamed character does very much die :|

---

“EOS, give me something,” snapped John, his hands flying over the controls.

She was silent.

What could she say that he didn’t already know?

“EOS?”

A touch of desperation bled through and she responded as fruitless as the calculation would prove.

It didn’t matter how she approached the problem, didn’t matter how many errors were identified and accounted for – a man whose parachute failed him fell the same way any other mass did. The acceleration of freefall didn’t particularly care if you had a wife and kids at home, wasn’t interested in the tragedy of it all.

It just was.

Her sensors tracked Thunderbird One, Scott careening from her nose and willing his jet pack to reach the man, reaching beyond the laws of physics into sheer determination that this man would not die.

And John knew all that already.

“Scott will reach the man in 40.3 seconds. He will not be able to match his speed. He will not be able to decelerate in time. Both will be killed unless he alters his course.”

“And if he alters it?”

“Scott will survive.”

John’s jaw clenched.

“Pull out, Scott.”

“I’ve nearly got him.”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“Now, Scott.”

“No.”

EOS saw what John would do before he did it and threw herself at the control system the moment he gave the command, flying through Thunderbird One, leaping to Scott’s remote system and grasping all the threads that powered his jet pack and handed them over to John.

The process took barely a second, and she was rewarded with Scott’s startled yelp as he was jerked upright in the air.

“NO!”

John was unrepentant, his lips pressed tightly together as Scott yelled and flailed in mid-air.

EOS broke off the sensors as the man hit the ground with a sickening crunch and Scott grew still.

“I could have reached him.”

His whispers echoed around the silent station.

“EOS,” said John in a choked voice. “Give Scott his controls back. Send Virgil the data, he can deal with the authorities.”

“John,” called Scott’s frantic voice.

“Thunderbird Five out.”

His request was silently fulfilled and she hovered over him, waiting for some indication that he knew this was not his fault. That it had only been the logical end to the problem and there was nothing more to be done.

“John?”

“Don’t, EOS. I know.”

She knew he knew. She also knew that knowing that never seemed to matter. There forever lay a disconnect between them, something she had yet to grasp. His response was only logical, yet so distinct from her own logical response.

There would be no solace in knowing.

#eos #john tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #another pause for din-dins #as my sister calls it lol

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yokohamabeans · 1 year

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Hello Yoko !! ( I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time but didn’t think it was worthy enough for sharing, still, here I am)

Remember your headcanons on “what type of girls the Tenjiku boys would like” ?

I think all of them are on point, tho (TW: cringe) I was a tad bit disappointed that Kaku’s ideal type description didn’t fit me, but that’s not the point; what I really like is that Yua doesn’t exactly fit the “nice girl next door” criteria either, but you still managed to make Kaku fall for her, and I really like that! Because not only doest it give more depth to their bond it also makes Kakucho really like her for her and not because she fits into a certain category. Their interaction reminds me a lot of Van Gogh's relationship with Sien, Van Gogh said: "A love like mine for Sien is the only kind I'm capable of (...) She & I are two unhappy people who keep each other company and share a burden, and that is precisely why unhappiness is making way for happiness, and the unbearable is becoming bearable"

You don’t find that everyday amongst fic writers, because most of them mold their OCs for the sole purpose of being a certain character’s love interest, and so the OC is only tied to that role and has no character depth, even their bond is surface levelled cause they can be replaced by anybody with the same description, it feels like they’re just a copy of a copy.

it's either that or they make their OCs flamboyant and “different” and nothing about them really makes sense, I personally prefer simple and average characters (I find their simplicity charming) , just like Murakami’s protagonists, and Yua has that sort of vibe to her, that’s why I really like her.

(but no hate to anyone who likes/ writes that type of character)

In short, I really like Yua’s character and how you constructed her bond with Kakucho, i find everything to be logical and realistic in ROAC which is why it’s my favourite fic, I think your writing skills are amazing! Love you Yoko!! keep up the good work and have a nice day/ evening <3

( I usually send anonymous asks, but today I’m in high spirits and feel brave lol)

Hey Pickle!!! As mentioned to you, the quote you gave about Yua's and Kakucho's relationship is SO ON POINT that I absolutely have to share it on my blog AHHHHH I'M STILL SO THRILLED THAT YOU FELT THAT WAY ABOUT YUA!!

When I wrote their meeting, I seriously wanted to depict a kind of bond that can only happen to people who have lost, because they understand each other on that level. Kakucho's lost his family, dream and Izana and Yua's lost her mother and family and her life was a shitshow, so they both had gaping holes in them. I'm really so so so happy and thankful that what I wrote gave you that impression!!

About creating Yua as an OC: I've always wanted to write a jaded, icy-prickly, I-just-wanna-get-by kind of character so I had her haha! And because it was an OC I really did want her to exist beyond being a love interest. I'm really having fun writing her!!

Again, thank you so so so so much Pickle!! And so sorry for how late it took for me to push this ask out!!! I hope you've been doing well and will be even better! Let's all hold hands in spirit as we approach the end of TR and await a Tenjiku story in the bonus DVD chapters!! ❤️

#asks #tokyo revengers #roac braindumps #lonelyypickle

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melody-of-lost-souls · 2 years

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Hellooo! (Please don't get tired of me yet)

So.. My frustration level with this fandom is over the limit, it constantly keeps me awake. SS/NH stans going feral when we get significant symbols, brush it off with "tHeIr BrOs" 🙄🙄. Then they plagiarize OUR symbols into their ship and somehow it's like "So cute😍😍😍!! I'm dying! This is so breathtaking 🤧🤧.. Ugh 😩 Someone stop those lovebirds, my heart can't take it 💕💕" Where is the logic behind the sudden change 🤨🤨?? If those symbols are platonic with Sasu and Naru, why is it suddenly romantic when Sakura and Hinata are involved?

Whatever...

Sasuke and Naruto doing things for each other that goes even further than regular friends or brother things, is "OMG stop being delusional 😀😀. Their BROTHERS!" Sasuke looking at Sakura, Naruto holding Hinata's hand is suddenly "OMG!! STOP THIS IS TOO CUTE 😍😍😍" Like huh 🤨?

Okay...

Naruto wishing upon a shooting star for Sasuke is "IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING 🥱🥱" Sasuke forgetting his revenge for Naruto is "MEH.. Just because he sets his goal aside for Naruto and not Sakura doesn't mean much, he still loves her anyway. THEIR BROTHERS EITHER WAY 🤣🤣" Naruto saying he acutally likes people like Hinata Hime, and Sasuke thanking Sakura is "OMG!!! 🤩🤩 LOOK AT THOSE SNS STANS, LITERALLY SO DELUSIONAL 🙄!! NOW THEY KNOW THAT SASUKE LOVES SAKURA AND NARUTO LOVES HINATA!" 🤔🤔

Common logic, correct?..

Naruto going six tails for Hinata is "AWE 🥰 LOL HE ONLY WENT FOUR TAILS FOR SASUKE! 🤣🤣 THAT PROVES THAT NARUTO CARES ABOUT HINATA HIME MORE THAN SASUKE!!" *casually forgetting Jiraiya's death, and the destruction of the village, and that Naruto only had to hear Sasuke's name to go four tails.. Yep yep 🙂👍👍*

What do you think?

Hello, been busy jeje

Well you said it all xD It's always the same thing with them. They are few SS or NH stans who are able to recognize that the moments of SNS are beyond "brotherly" In my case, i dont get triggered or offended when someone says their bond is platonic. I dont know if they take the meaning in a wrong way or so, but the meaning is very deep, and it has to do with the myth of androgines which is absolutey interesting and beautiful. I dont understand why a lot of fans despise people who says SNS are platonic. Because Sex is not in the way? They are putting themselves on the same place as SS who only cares about fucking¿ In any case. To such as SS and NH who joke us saying ñiñiñi SNS are just platonic bros, i would send them to read some things. Its because their poor content also, that they do exaggerate every single moment of their ship together even if it is jus them sharing a god damn pannel. And its because the amount of content we have, that they need to dismiss all of ours in order to validate theirs.

It will always be like that with BL fandoms. a friend of mine who ships ERURI (levi x erwin - i personally dont like them anyway) told me is the same way with LeviHan shippers. Who always harrass them. Despite these 2 ships have strong solid content. They fight the BL ship a lot so... its the same shit in different fandoms. They get triggered with the ships who risks their ones i gues

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btsrunmylife · 2 years

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sweetest darling sam, hello ;u; ♡ i love your comfort drabble series idea so much, i feel like this was made for you - not just by you. i hope you have fun with these, even providing comfort for your own self too in the process~

ah, to think i have a request already maybe says a lot that i go through this so often ^^; i will indulge with a little daydream of a drabble: i'm someone that takes care of others most of the time - and i love doing it, always and without a doubt - but there does come a point where i think... i give way too much? that i grew up way too fast... and next thing i know, i'm beyond exhausted, feeling bleak about getting myself back up and running, etc. (i'm a huge crybaby in private too, if it adds to oc's character at all kjhsdkjfhg) + despite being the youngest most of his life, could i have comfort!jk take care of me in return? ;-; ♡

Hello sweet cee 🥺💜 I just have to say before I post the drabble that I can very much relate to everything you've said. Us givers tend to give a lot of ourselves and forget to take or give to ourselves too! It’s something I’m still trying to remind myself to do.

The fact you said this project was made for me instead of by me really resonated with me, by the way! I’ve felt sort of called to do this for a while now, so I’m glad I’m finally getting the chance to! Thank you for sending something in and sharing with me! I hope this provides you the comfort you deserve, lovely! Wishing you the best with lots of love and support! 💜

The Comfort Drabbles -- About | Masterlist

One of the things about caring for other people is how draining it can be.

You became so good at caring for others that you no longer know how to take care of yourself. You don’t know how to slow down and ask yourself what you need. You’re too busy bouncing from one task to the next, ping-ponging between people who need you or want your help. “Because no one does it as well as you do,” they’ll say. “No one else gets things done as quickly. You just get it.”

Truthfully, you’ve spent most of your life anticipating the needs of other people – looking for physical and unspoken cues to tell you the right thing to make them feel (or to make the situation) better. You’ve also spent ridiculous amounts of your mental energy looking for the easiest, most time-efficient ways of getting things done. Because you know that before you’re even finished with one task or problem, someone else will be asking for your help with another.

Your to-do list is never ending. Not at work, not at home, and not amongst family and friends.

You actually think you’ve been on the go for so long, you’ve lost track of the off switch.

If there ever was one.

Logically, you know it’s in your best interest to slow down. It’s in your best interest to say “no” and take more time for yourself. To actually relax for once.

But you never do.

You just keep going until you hit a wall and there’s nothing left to give, not even to yourself.

This is one of those times.

You’re just getting home from a visit with your family. You love your family, you do, but you always feel drained afterwards. Between the dance of keeping up with conversation and trying to be an emotional and physical support for them, you feel exhausted.

So, yes, you love your family, but sometimes it feels like you give more than you have to give and rarely get the same type of support in return.

You push through your apartment door with a sigh, feet all but dragging across the floor.

“Babe?” you hear from the other room.

“Jungkook?” you call with a panicked pause. You hadn’t been expecting him. You feel a small part of you die a little inside at the thought of entertaining another human being. Even if it is your delightful, thoughtful boyfriend.

“Hey,” he greets with a smile, helping you out of your jacket and nudging your slippers toward you. He squeezes your hand and places a quick kiss to your cheek.

“What are you doing here?” You hope you don’t sound disappointed. You’re not disappointed to see him, you just wish you had some time to recuperate first.

He doesn’t seem to take it personally, merely links your fingers together and pulls you further into the apartment. “I’m cooking you dinner.”

“Why?” you can’t help but ask. With his crazy schedule, you’re usually the one to cook for him.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, like he’s somewhat offended. “Do I need a reason to cook for you?” He ushers you toward your bedroom. “Go wash up. It should be ready by the time you’re done.”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wondering what the special occasion could be, but you’re too tired to think about it for long. Instead, you do as you’re told, grab some comfier clothes, and head for the shower.

Washing up helps to ease some of the tension in your body, helps you release the emotions that you carry – some of them not even yours. You watch them evaporate in the steam that billows around you, your body feeling lighter and mind a little less cluttered.

It’s a relief, you think, to dry off and see the pile of skin care items lining your bathroom sink. You smile at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness, eyes immediately drawn to the face masks and body lotions he’s set out for you. It feels a little indulgent to apply them, but it also feels good to take the time for yourself. To focus more singularly on what your body needs in that moment.

Your stomach rumbles as soon as you step out of the bathroom to the smell of your favorite food.

Jungkook smiles when he sees you, nose wrinkling happily at the sight of you in your face mask. “Ah, you found them!”

You hum. “Laid out right where I could find them.”

You’re moving toward the small table in the corner of your kitchen when Jungkook shakes his head. “No, no, we’re eating on the couch tonight.”

You blink. “You hate it when we eat in the living room.”

He shrugs. “But you like to…and I have a movie picked out to watch while we eat.”

Once again, suspicion tickles your chest. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Doing what?” he asks innocently, blinking at you with his wide, bambi eyes that have admittedly gotten him off the hook many times before.

You motion to the food, the mask on your face, and the living room behind you. “All of this.”

“Ah,” he nods, brow furrowing like he’s thinking it through. “You were with your family today, right?”

You nod slowly, not sure where he’s going with this.

“And you’re tired now, right?” he continues, eyes flittering across your face.

“I’m always tired after I visit with them.”

He smiles, reaching for your hand. “Yeah. So, relax and let me take care of you.”

You open your mouth, ready to protest. You really don’t need him to take care of you.

But he already knows what you’re going to say before you say it.

He gives a firm shake of his head and waves his hand in front of your face. “Ah ah ah, no. Go sit and let me feed you. We’ll cuddle and watch a movie. You don’t have to worry about anything tonight.”

The stubborn part of you that’s so used to taking care of everyone else wants to argue.

But the part of you that’s just too tired is beyond relieved to not have any responsibilities tonight.

“Are you sure?” you ask meekly.

“I see what you’re doing.” He sighs. “You don’t have to feel guilty for being taken care of.” His thumb skates across the back of your hand. “I like taking care of you. Will you let me?”

Your heart swells in your chest and you nod, unable to conjure the words to properly thank him.

He grins and leans in to kiss you, only to pull away with a wrinkled nose and a swipe of his hand across his lips. His tongue pokes out between his lips. “Face mask.”

You giggle and his grin widens.

“Go, go,” he laughs, ushering you toward the living room.

You go quickly and he follows closely behind, two plates of food carefully balanced in his hands. He sits next to you, the warmth of his body next to yours comforting. As the two of you shift and get comfortable on the couch together, with your favorite comfort movie queued on the TV, you can’t help but wonder how you’d gotten so lucky.

Because after spending so much of your time taking care of everyone else, it’s nice to be taken care of…and it’s nice to be reminded that it’s important to take care of yourself too.

“Hey Guk?” you mutter with a shy side-eye.

He glances at you after taking a rather large bite, food spilling from his lips as he hums in question. You can’t help but laugh at him, watching in amusement as he tries to shovel the rest of it into his mouth with his chopsticks.

“I love you,” you laugh, your tone full of fond amusement.

His eyes crinkle with laughter as he covers his mouth with his hand and mutters around his mouthful, “I love you too.”

And yeah, you really are lucky, you decide.

#btsrunmylife.prompts #the comfort drabbles #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #cee💕

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ptergwen · 3 years

Note

omg what about a peter blurb where the reader turns their phone off to study or sleep or finish work to meet a deadline or something and they haven’t talked to peter al day bc of that and he freaks out imagining the worst (bc he’s seen the worst poor boy) and comes over to the reader’s apartment and they’re so confused and like make fun of him for being so worried 🥺 idk i just think it’d be cute

oh wow this one really got me :,)

peter 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

hey babe, hope you had a good sleep ♥️ wanna go for breakfast?

peter 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

i’ll take you to that place with the smiley faces in their pancakes :) the ones made of fruit

peter 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

it’s getting kinda late y/n... where are u?

Five missed calls from peter 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

too many thoughts are running through peter’s head as he jumps into his form fitting suit. his alter ego usually takes sunday’s off, but he’s making an exception for you. he’s insanely worried about you and why you haven’t returned any of his texts or calls. it’s well past noon already. you’re usually up by now, and you’re never not on your phone. something just seems off.

peter quickly swings through the neighborhood until he gets to your apartment building. he moves so fast that it’s reckless, banging into poles hard enough to leave bruises. that doesn’t matter to him, though. all he wants is for you to be okay. he wants to see you and know that everything is fine. you two haven’t hung out this weekend, so it’s been a couple days since he’s properly checked in with you. anything could happen in that timeframe.

you could’ve gotten hurt, or been taken, or much worse. peter isn’t even willing to let himself think what worse entails. he’d like to be logical and assume you slept in. maybe, his texts simply didn’t send. may has been meaning to make a complaint about their building’s spotty wifi.

in peter’s world, everything is unfortunately beyond logic. he’s freaking spider-man, which means people are out to get him. they’re out to get you. he has no clue what he’d do if they succeeded.

you spin around in your desk chair, earbuds playing music loudly while you read over your notes. final exams are coming soon. you’re using every free second you have from this point on to study for them. sighing, you star a definition you’ve been struggling with. your music drowns out the sound of peter frantically knocking at your window.

he can’t see you from where you’re sitting, so he isn’t sure if you’re there or not. it’s when you finally look up that you notice the red and black clad figure peering in. you gasp, startled at his sudden appearance. you pull out your earbuds and make your way to the window. peter lets out the biggest breath of relief when he sees you approaching.

“sorry, i was-“ your explanation is cut off by peter’s rambling. “are you okay? where have you been? i was... i was so scared something happened to you, y/n,” he admits in a high pitched voice, you only stepping back so he can come inside. continuing, he pulls off his mask. “did you not get my texts? or calls? i was trying to call you all morning. please don’t forget to answer me, y/n/n. you know how i get when-“

“i’m fine, peter!” you reassure him with a giggle. he’s out of breath from talking so much and rushing to you. “i’m right here. i’ve been here all day.” you grab his broad shoulders, which relax under your touch. “well... why didn’t you reply?” peter wonders, frowning as his arms come to hug your waist. “did you not wanna go out with me?“ confused, you tilt your head to the side. “i haven’t checked my phone in hours. i was studying. wait, you wanted to take me out?”

peter can calm down at last. you’re not in danger, you weren’t ignoring him. you were simply busy doing schoolwork. that, he actually applauds you for.

“for breakfast, yeah.” he manages a shy grin as he coaxes your body closer to his. “i’d ask if you’re still interested, but it’s a little too late now.” you raise a challenging eyebrow. “i love brunch.” “i love you,” peter deadpans and pecks your lips sweetly. humming, you bring a hand up to the back of his head while your lips press to his once again. his messed up curls brush your face as he leans in and kisses back.

“i love you, too,” you mumble against his lips, earning a real smile from peter. he’s still smiling when he breaks the kiss. he gives you a final one on your forehead, arms never leaving you. “how about you get dressed so we can bounce?” “will you swing me there? you came prepared,” you tease, heading over to your dresser. his face starts to heat up. “i thought you might’ve been in trouble.”

“in trouble of failing a test, not being sacrificed by a supervillain.” you’re laughing to yourself while you get your clothes together. fully blushing, peter takes a seat on your bed. “you never know.” he toys with his gloved fingers. “just wanted to make sure i could protect you, if you needed me.” “peter... baby,” you coo, walking back over to him with your outfit tucked under your arm.

“i appreciate you dropping everything and coming here, i really do. shows me how much you care.” you cup one of his pink cheeks in your hand, willing peter to look at you. he does, threading his fingers through yours. “i care a lot.” “so much that you drive yourself insane,” you agree. his lips stretch into a small smile. “trust me, you’re the first person i’m calling when bad guys try to capture me.” your thumb brushes over his skin, eyes softening.

“that makes me feel strangely better. i’ll think before i overreact next time,” peter decides and kisses your palm a few times. “you didn’t overreact. you’ve been through some shit, pete.” you nod to stress your point. “it’s a normal response, okay?” “thank you, baby. for... i don’t know, existing,” he chuckles softly. you ruffle his curls with a goofy grin.

“let’s go get some smiley face pancakes.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

What Could've Been

Requested By Anon: "pls do a rosé or jennie imagine where the reader is into them but they just keep rejecting her. then they just cross the line one day and say hurtful things to y/n so the reader just ended up stopped pursuing them. then someone else (could be the other rosé or jennie also of yk what i mean) became interested in y/n and they get all petty and jealous yk djajdua,, COULD BE ANY ENDING HFHSHAU I'M JUST A REAL SUCKER FOR IMAGINES LIKE THIS TYSM"

Pairing: Love Triangle -- Jennie x Fem!Reader and Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,333

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Rejection, Crying, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: ⚠️ Important ⚠️ Class, gather round -- we have some things to discuss. I'm not angry, just... disappointed. *dramatic music*

First off, I want to address something with asks: as I've stated before, there's no certain amount of time that any one request will take me. Sometimes I'm more inspired by one than others, and sometimes I legitimately lack the time or brainpower to write a piece that holds true to my standards.

Please, refrain from messaging me multiple times about a request. Once is fine, especially if it's been awhile since you first asked, but I'm doing my best to give you starving fans the content you wish to see, and that takes time.

To those of you who continue to be patient with me: I sincerely appreciate it.

Secondly, I hope you enjoy this. ♡ Happy Reading ♡

PS ~ Anon, I still love you. Now enjoy this fic or you're grounded.

PPS ~ It gets better as it goes on

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Thank you," you politely say to your driver, handing him some money before stepping out of the sleek black car and onto the sidewalk. The bottoms of your shoes crunch lightly as they come in contact with the concrete, steadily announcing your course towards the performance hall.

You let out a breath as you stand in the elevator, alone with your thoughts in the small space as it ascends.

Your hands nervously palm the fresh bouquets of flowers you purchased on your way here -- the girls just finished a comeback stage, so you've decided to surprise them and show your love. You spent time picking out a personalized batch for each of them, making sure to mix their favorite colors and types, but you went even further for Rosé: you hand picked a larger, special array, choosing them based on their meaning and how much you think she'll appreciate them. Over the years, you've made sure to note her favorite ones; that came in handy tonight, and the florist assisting you definitely appreciated your attention to detail.

Too chicken to go to her first, you decide to bring the other girls their gifts now and save Rosie for last. All of them are unwinding independently in their dressing rooms right now, enjoying some much needed alone time before coming back together later to celebrate.

"Jisoo-yah!" You sing-song, rapping lightly on the door. It's slightly ajar, but you still knock out of respect for her privacy.

In an instant, the door swings open to reveal a very happy unnie. "Y/N! I've missed you!" She nearly shouts, pulling you in for an eager hug. A surprised noise leaves her lips as her hands come in contact with the bundle behind your back, crinkling the plastic slightly in her excited state.

"I got you a present," you say, smiling softly. Jisoo can feel the way your cheeks raise up, brushing against the skin of her neck as your head rests there, and her heart melts. After pulling out of the embrace, she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"Well? Let me see!" You do as she asks with a chuckle, pulling her bunch out of the hold of the rubber band that's keeping them all together. "I got your favorite." You grin, sticking them out for her to see. Her eyes widen at the sight, and she's touched by the kind gesture. Flowers aren't particularly unique in terms of what companies and fans send them, but seeing the effort you put in makes it incredibly special. She couldn't be happier.

"Y/N, you're the best." She presses a small kiss to your cheek as a thank you, and invites you in right after. Jisoo considers you to be one of the closest friends she has, so being apart hasn't been easy on her. You're the only person she's okay with venting and crying in front of, and she's been needing that lately. Sensing this, you pull a chair up to her vanity and let her fill you in on all the mayhem you missed out on during your time away, holding her hand for reassurance. When she gets a little frustrated, you rub her back gently, telling her to take her time.

Jisoo is beyond thankful for you, and that becomes more and more apparent the closer you two get. Times like these hold a special place in her heart and remind her of why she loves you so much. You truly are a great friend to have, and there's no one she'd rather have in her corner.

----

"Incoming! 3...2...1…" You call out, standing in front of Lisa's door, ready to knock it down and barge in. The greeting is an inside joke between the two of you, though neither of you know where its origins lie.

"Yah! Hold on!" She shouts, nearly tripping and falling from how quick she rushes to the door. You laugh at the sounds of chaos coming from inside, wincing slightly when a thud rings out. Hair slightly disheveled, she opens the door with a huff. "This had better be good, because I almost died."

Wordlessly, you reveal her present and smirk as the halfhearted scowl on her face disappears completely, giving way to a dopey grin. "You remembered?" She asks quietly, running her fingers over the petals of her all-time favorite flower. The fact that she sounds so shocked makes you sad -- not many people take enough time to notice the little things. They'd rather focus on profiting off of the girls' talents than actually caring enough to get to know them.

"Of course I did, Lisa. You're one of my best friends; how could I forget?" The maknae pulls you in for a meaningful hug, allowing the gesture to tell you all the things she doesn't know how to express. She's not always the best with her words, but she makes up for it with her actions.

"I really love you, dork. You know that?" She asks as she pulls away, ruffling your hair lightly. She cracks that smile that seems to make the world stop, and you just shake your head.

"You'd better. Your flowers were the most expensive!" You tease, dodging her when she reaches out to grab you for that one.

"Get back here!" She shouts, chasing you down the hall like a 5 year old, planning to get her revenge.

---

"Jendeukie, open up!" You squeal, pounding on her door while throwing a look over your shoulder. Lisa is dangerously close, ready to tackle you as she continues charging down the hall.

"Y/N?!" She exclaims from the other side of the door, clearly not expecting you to be here.

"Hurry!" You can hear footsteps eagerly rushing towards the door, and just as she opens it, disaster strikes.

Lisa's arms wrap around your waist, pushing you forward and right into Jennie. The three of you fall into her dressing room in a messy heap, limbs splayed in various positions as you yell together on the way down. You manage to keep the flowers out of harm's way, thankfully, and your arm remains stuck out just in case Lisa tries anything else.

"Hello to you, too, Y/N." Jennie groans with a chuckle, the words coming out a little strained from all the weight on her. Lisa stands first, pulling you up right after, and you turn to help your best friend up as well.

"I sure know how to make an entrance, huh?" Your lopsided grin makes Jennie weak in the knees, much like it has ever since she met you all those years ago, and she has to fight to contain the blush that rises to her cheeks. After bantering with Lisa for a few more moments you eventually push her out of the room, shoo-ing her back to her own in order to give yourself some one-on-one time with Jennie.

You stick your tongue out at the maknae one final time before shutting the door and turning around, finding a very soft looking Jennie peering back at you. Her cheeks are pulled back in her signature gummy smile, and the fluffy sleeves of her Chanel sweater engulf her small hands as she cradles her face in them.

Perhaps, if circumstances were different, you'd be hopelessly pining for this 5'4" angel instead of Rosé. Love knows no logic, though, and you're stuck chasing after a certain Australian beauty that never seems capable of giving you the time of day.

"I missed you," she pouts, pursing her lips adorably as she steps forward to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull her in and pick her up with a spin, smiling into her neck when she giggles in your ear.

"Well, I'm here now. And luckily for you…." you start, allowing for some anticipation to build, "I come bearing gifts. Well, a gift. Singular." Jennie chuckles at your rambling -- it's one of the traits she finds most endearing about you, and she always hates it when people cut you down for it. It's adorable in every way.

"Oh?" She asks, intrigued as she raises an eyebrow -- she's keeping the act up for you, of course, too fond of the cute smile on your face to tell you that she already knows what it is. You hand over the flowers with a little jig, too excited by how happy she looks to contain yourself.

"They're beautiful, Y/N." She stops herself from adding a, "just like you," to the end of the phrase, wishing she was able to say things like that. You deserve to be reminded of how special you are everyday, and she knows her bandmate fails to do so.

"So, what've you been up to?" You amble over to the couch that's tucked away in the corner of her dressing room, plopping down onto the cushions with a small bounce. Rosé's flowers lay beside you, and Jennie eyes them.

"Same old, same old," she says, finally looking back at you with a tiny grin. "Practice for the comeback has kept us really busy lately, and somebody hasn't been there to tell us jokes at 3AM and keep us going." She playfully rolls her eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

"My most sincere apologies," you hold a hand over your heart in mock regret, bowing your head with closed eyes. "On the bright side, though, I'm back in town for next month or two. I finished the business deals we had to handle abroad, so now I'm all yours."

She knows you didn't mean hers, but that doesn't stop her from pretending.

A happy noise of approval slips past her lips, and she claps excitedly. The sight reminds you of some of the childhood videos she's shown you, the two looking eerily similar to one another. No matter what may happen in her life, Jennie will most certainly remain that innocent young girl at heart, getting scared by everything that moves and loving with her all. She's an amazing person to know, and part of you feels sorry for everyone who'll never get the privilege of knowing her personally -- after all, everyone deserves a Jennie Kim in their lives.

"Are you celebrating with us later?" She asks from in front of her mirror, now brushing her hair to busy herself. She runs the risk of making her feelings too obvious if she doesn't keep herself occupied.

"I was planning to, yes. But that might depend on Rosé." You inform with a nervous chuckle, an anxious smile playing on your lips. When you look up and find her brows furrowed, you elaborate.

"I'm gonna try to ask her out today when I bring her these flowers." You lightly chew your bottom lip out of habit, rubbing your hands together. The mere thought of such a task is daunting, especially with your not-so-perfect track record when it comes to her. You still try to cling to what little hope you have squirreled away in your heart, wishing with all your power that your sweet present will convince Rosé to at least give you a chance.

Distracted by your thoughts, you don't notice the way that Jennie's face falls. Her heart is breaking in silence, splintering into pieces far too small to put back together. She knew this day would come eventually, given that you're a determined person and head over heels for Rosé, but that doesn't mean she was prepared to find out like this. The lovesick glimmer in your eye hurts Jennie even more, knowing that you're probably imagining what it would be like for her to say yes to you. This whole time, Rosé has been stringing you along -- giving you just enough hope to keep coming back to her, using your devoted acts of kindness selfishly -- and Jennie would do anything to make you see that. You don't deserve what she puts you through.

"...Earth to Jennie!"

The brunette snaps back to reality and clears her throat, attempting to gather her thoughts again.

"Sorry, just got lost there for a second." She says, looking back into your eyes after a moment. A curious look plays in them, and she can practically see you debating on whether or not to question her further. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief when you accept her answer, choosing instead to smile at her.

"It's alright. But what's not alright, is that I've been sitting here for 5 minutes and you haven't come over to cuddle me. I mean seriously, a girl's gone for forever and her best friend doesn't bombard her with love?" You shake your head with an amused smile, throwing your hands in the air.

Oh, the things she would do to change that title.

Successfully suppressing the pang of longing that runs through her, Jennie quips back, "A month and a half is hardly forever, Y/N."

"It felt like it, though. I missed seeing you."

She finds you pouting, your arms folded across your chest like a toddler, and her heart melts. Any amount of time without you is too long for Jennie's liking, and she's happy to know you missed her as well.

"Fine, I guess I can spare some cuddles." She pretends to be put out as she approaches you, really playing the part by huffing and looking uninterested. Inside, though, she's celebrating. She can't wait to hold you close again, even if it may lead to her hurting herself with the what-ifs and scenarios that play in her mind.

"Yay!" You shout, pulling her into your lap before laying your head on her shoulder. Her heart beats rapidly at the proximity, and she prays to every higher power in existence that you don't notice it.

She relaxes after a moment, releasing the tension from her muscles as she sinks into your embrace. It's warm and comforting, and she never wants you to let go. Her head rests on top of yours, and she's content just running her hands through your hair, feeling your calm breaths against her skin.

She's so in love it hurts.

-----

This'll convince her, you whisper to yourself, attempting to sound confident -- key word: attempting. If there's one thing you know about Rosé, it's that she loves to be difficult with you. You caught feelings for her years ago when you were first introduced to each other at a company event, and ever since then you've done nice things for her nonstop, hoping that she'd fall for you with time. The longer you wait, though, the more discouraged you get. Regardless, those times that she appreciates your efforts make up for all the rest, and you'd gladly take 100 instances of the "bad" in order to have even just one of the "good".

After taking a deep breath, you knock on the door a couple times.

A sigh can be heard, sounding like a complete 180 from the reactions of the other girls. The subsequent footsteps are heavy -- like she's dragging her feet, not even wanting to get up in the first place -- and they work to dishearten you a bit. Nevertheless, you imagine how happy she'll be when she sees the surprise, and a small smile makes its ways onto your lips. All you want to do is brighten her day, if only for a moment.

An indifferent expression rests on her face when she first opens the door, likely expecting someone else to be standing in your place. Not much changes when she realizes it's you, though a sliver of a smile does quirk up at the corner of her lips.

"Hiya Rosie," you greet sweetly, unable to contain how wide your smile grows at seeing her again. She makes you feel like a giddy school girl, and you can't decide if you love it or hate it.

"What's up?" She asks, more out of common courtesy than anything else. Her body leans against the doorframe, her left arm resting behind the door. She didn't throw it open or invite you in like the other girls, so that tells you that she probably doesn't want visitors.

When you take too long to answer, she asks dryly, "Are you just gonna stare at me?" Her voice is laced with a slight undertone of annoyance -- one that makes you shrink down a bit. You can practically hear how exhausted she is, and part of you feels bad for disturbing her with your presence.

"N-no, sorry." You curse yourself for looking like a fool. "I got you something that I think you'll enjoy." Her eyebrows raise slightly and you can tell she's intrigued, even if she may try to deny it.

"Here." You declare, nervously fixing the plastic as you hold the bundle in front of you. You want it to look perfect for her.

"I, uh, hand picked it."

"Thank you, it's lovely." She says politely, taking them from you and bringing them up to her nose. She admires the gentle, pleasant scent of them, and smiles appreciatively at you.

You blush under her gaze, slightly tripping over your words as you respond, "Of course, I'm glad you like it."

Now, the part you dread: when the conversation dwindles down, threatening to end entirely unless you step up to keep it going.

"Well, how've you been?" You cringe at the overused question, but you're willing to employ it in order to hear her sweet voice for a little longer.

"Look, Y/N, I really appreciate the gift and all, and I'm really happy to see you again, but I don't feel like talking right now. I just want to enjoy myself for a little bit." Her denial makes you scrunch your face up, embarrassed beyond belief as her words sink in. You should've known that flowers wouldn't suffice. Perhaps that last line stung the most -- you try not to read too far into it, but the idea that she doesn't enjoy herself when talking to you nags at your heart.

"Yeah, yeah. For sure." You scratch the back of your neck, awkwardly taking a step away from her door and back into the hallway.

"I'll see you at the get together later though, right?" You ask, kicking yourself when you realize how hopeful you sounded. You have to get better at hiding it.

"Sure," she nods, sending you a smile and little wave before saying goodbye and shutting the door.

Well, that was a bust. Damn. Back to the drawing board, it is -- though your ego will need a few hours to recover.

---

"Lisa, I swear to god, if you come near me with that I'll punt you across this room."

Your very serious, totally-not-exaggerated warning evidently worked against you, because the maknae soon raises her head to look at you, grinning like a maniac. Frosting from the cake she just messily cut into covers her hands, looking threatening as she wiggles them at you.

"I mean in!" You shout as a last resort, slowly backing away. You accidently bump into Jennie in the process, but you fail to realize that it was part of the plan all along: she and Lisa are in cahoots. When the maknae lunges, swiftly striding across the room towards you, you attempt to move out of her path and get somewhere safer. Steady hands on your waist keep you anchored in place, though, and you try to fight them.

"Jennie?! Let me go, she's right there!" You squeal, trying to pry her fingers off of your hips one by one. She merely laughs, whispering a sorry into your ear right before Lisa's hands run across your cheeks and neck. You squirm, leaning further back against Jennie to evade the younger girl as she does her worst.

Now, practically having a face mask of frosting, you step away from the girls and glare at them.

"Bullies, I tell you." You say to Jisoo, groaning when she busts out laughing. It doesn't take a genius to know that you look a mess, and you'd probably laugh at yourself if the roles were reversed. The others soon join in, and a chorus of belly laughs fill the air around you.

"Go ahead, laugh it up," you tell the girls, nodding your head, "Just wait til I get my revenge. I'm coming for you, Manoban." You point a finger at her as you exit the room, grinning when you hear the oooo's that they let out at your threat, and you make your way to the bathroom at the end of the long hallway before you.

On your way back, you hear Rosé's voice filtering in from one of the lounge rooms that branch off of the main corridor. Intrigued, you stop walking and listen in.

Big mistake.

Your ears perk up when you hear your name roll off her tongue, though her subsequent sentences crush your spirits.

"...I know, right? She's honestly so annoying. Like earlier, I was finally getting cozy after our performance and then she just showed up."

Too shocked to leave now, you stay where you are and try not to let her words hurt you too much. She listens to the person on the other end of the line, laughing at something they said. That sound -- one you’ve grown to love more than anything else in the world -- is turning into something you hate. It feels like she's laughing at you; which, in hindsight, she probably is.

"Exactly! She had flowers for me, as if I don't get those almost everyday already, and I guess she really thought that that would win me over. It was sweet but, c'mon, you know?"

Every insecurity you have is nagging at you, and you can't stop the few tears that roll down your cheeks at her brutal honesty. She's really hurting your feelings, and you can't help but want to call her out for it. So, you do just that: you step into the open room, one that lacks an actual door, and say, "Next time you wanna talk shit about someone, maybe you should make sure they're not around to hear it."

Her smile falters slightly, and she spins around to face you. A hint of guilt plays on her features, but you're sure it's only because she got caught -- she definitely meant everything she said.

"Y/N--"

You don't stick around to listen to what she has to say. Her change of behavior surprised you, and you can't trust that she's even sorry for it.

Your pace quickens as you hear her voice become clearer -- she's in the doorway now, calling after you, but you don't even turn around. The salt of your tears greets your tongue, and you're once again reminded to wipe your face as you rush down the hall, rounding a couple corners and darting past countless doors on your way. You just want to get out of this place and be alone.

A new voice slows your strides as it greets your ears, feeling like a security blanket in its gentleness. It's Jennie. "Y/N? Why are you crying?" She came to look for you when you took too long to return from the bathroom.

You're far too embarrassed to look at her, so you simply sniffle and raise a hand up in her direction. "Don't worry about me, Jen. It's not important."

"Hey, yes it is. You're upset and that matters." She steps towards you, saying the words that you had no idea you needed to hear so badly. Your heart aches, still shocked by the fact that Rosé would say such things about you. You thought you were friends, if nothing else, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

When you don't move away, Jennie takes that as a sign to bring you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest. The kind act hurts your heart more for some reason, and you want to pull away. Jennie senses this and decides to rub soothing circles on your back, her warm embrace comforting you as she says, "I don't know what happened, Y/N, but I'm right here. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, either, but please don't leave like this. I hate to see you upset."

Something about the way she's holding you, so close and tenderly, is comforting beyond belief and you can't find the desire to leave anymore.

"Can we at least go to your dressing room? I don't want everyone to see me like this."

"Of course, sweetheart. Come on."

Sweet phrases of reassurance are whispered to you as she leads you away, keeping you safe from prying eyes the entire time. Jisoo appears in the doorway of the party room, raising a concerned brow when she sees the two of you approaching. Jennie shakes her head at the unnie before she can utter a word, giving her a silent answer as she uses her eyes to communicate what's happening. Jisoo eventually understands, and she offers a sympathetic nod when you pass by.

-------

7 Months Later

"Hey Jennie, do you think you can go answer the door? I'd do it myself, but…" Jisoo trails off, glancing down at the bowl of partially mixed dough that sits in front of her on the counter. Her hands continue to knead the mixture as she looks up at the younger girl, subtly sighing in relief when she agrees.

There's more than one reason behind having Jennie be the one to answer it.

The brunette grabs a pen as she pads her way over to the door, ready to sign for a delivery package -- that's usually the only thing they get at the dorm, considering guests are discouraged for the most part. Screw YG and their rules.

Being a bit clumsy, Jennie accidently knocks her phone out of her own hand as she opens the door, muttering out a quiet “shit” as she bends down to retrieve it. Her eyes trail over to the stylish boots that set just a few feet away, and her breath hitches.

"Hi baby." You greet with that healing smile that she's missed so much, peering down at her with a look in your eye that makes her heart trip and stumble over itself.

"Y/N!" She shrieks, jumping up from the ground and right into your arms.

"Uumph--" you let out in surprise, making sure to catch her and prevent her from falling. Ever since you two began dating a few months ago, leaving has become harder and harder. Jennie is beyond thrilled to have you back again, and she tries not to think about the next business trip you'll have to take. It's a methodical rhythm -- a month or two abroad and the same amount back home, then you're left to repeat the cycle over and over. Both of you hate it, and you'd much rather spend all your time with her instead. After all, ever since the incident with Rosé all that time ago, Jennie has steadily worked her way into your heart and become someone you can't live without. You were close before, but you've reached a new level now -- and that's about the only thing you can thank Rosé for. By hurting you and showing you how little she cared, she effectively pushed you right into Jennie's waiting arms.

"I'm so happy you're home." She says with a sigh, truly grateful to have you in her arms again. You wrap your arms tighter around her waist and sway a little bit, both of you content with just holding each other for a while longer. The weather outside is dazzlingly perfect; signs of summer apparent in everything around you. Birds chirp their looping songs as they fly through the air, feeling the sun's gentle heat on their wings all the while.

You move your head enough to be level with hers, bringing her in for a long-overdue kiss. She smiles into it, cupping your cheek with one of her hands as she languidly moves to deepen it.

Rosé should've stayed in her room. She should've ignored her stomach's incessant grumbling for a snack; but she didn't.

She gave in, and now she's stuck, rooted in place as she watches Jennie kiss you, the one that got away. It's like watching a train wreck: she can't look away, and part of her psyche knows she deserves this. The apple in her hands is the only thing working to distract her, and she grips it tightly within her clutch to comfort herself. You look good -- so good -- and Rosé doesn't know whether to be happy or not. She knows she didn't treat you right -- then or ever -- but for some selfish reason that she doesn't dare give voice to, she wants you to still be hurting. She wants you to be suffering like she is now, crying into your pillowcase at night when she crosses your mind. She wants you to miss the good times, though there may not have been enough of them, and she wants you to want her again.

You've turned the tables on her, and she doesn't know how to cope.

She realized what she had once it was gone -- once you were gone, too busy falling in love with Jennie to pay her any mind anymore. She misses how devoted you were to her and how much care you put into everything you did; she misses the consistency that you offered; she misses every sweet thing you ever did for her. Hell, she even misses hearing you ramble and seeing you blush when all she did was smile at you.

But you're gone now, destined to be with her member when all she wants is another chance. She'll never get it, certainly not after everything she's put you through, and she resents herself for treating you so badly. All you ever did was care, and she was too self-centered to give a crap.

She deserves this. She deserves to see you happy with Jennie, happy in a way she could never make you. For you, she deserves to hurt; to silently cry in her room when she hears the two of you on call, laughing about whatever new thing you experienced that day. Because it wasn't just the one instance of pain she inflicted on you; it wasn't just that one night at the performance hall -- it was a steady build up of rejection and half-assed excuses, and even she can't blame you for getting tired of it. She wishes she hadn't been so stupid to deny you.

What's worse is that she's actually fallen for you now; she imagines what could've been, what would've been, had she given you an honest chance. She's never tried to deny how gorgeous you are -- that's a given -- but now you're bruisingly beautiful, shining with the happiness that Jennie's worked hard to instill in you again. Shining with the love you hold for that 5'4" angel.

Maybe, if circumstances were different, you'd be in Rosé's arms right now. Perhaps in another life.

---

"Do you want to come in? Jisoo's working on some dessert for the lunch we just made. We can heat you up a plate in the meantime…" Jennie trails off, hoping to persuade you. She knows it's risky, considering the tension that feels almost tangible anytime the three of you are together, but she doesn't want to let you go so soon.

"I don't know…" The uncertainty in your voice is clear, and Jennie watches as a slight grimace crosses your features when you look past her and into the dorm. Luckily Rosé had already found the will power to move to the dining room, so you're spared from seeing her just yet.

"If things get weird or uncomfy we'll leave, okay? I promise." She says, knowing she's convinced you once you give her a little nod.

"Okay. But I'm only doing this because I missed Jisoo's cooking." A playful glint shimmers in your eye as you quirk your head to the side, teasing her.

"Hey!" She groans, pushing your shoulder as the two of you walk down the little concrete path that leads to the front door. "I'm kidding! I missed Lisa's jokes, too."

You laugh at the gasp she lets out, and you make sure to turn around and press a kiss to her temple to stop her from pouting.

"So, Y/N, where did you go this time?" Jisoo asks, leaning against the marble island of the kitchen as she pops a piece of tanghulu in her mouth. The crack of the sugary coating pulls your attention away from Rosé, where it had momentarily been -- she looks awful. Bags rest underneath her eyes, her normally vibrant features crestfallen now as her gaze scans across the food on her plate.

You look at Jisoo as you answer her. "The states. We worked with some local companies and small businesses to get more promotional material out in front of people. It's actually pretty amazing, guys -- you're blowing up over there. They love you." The girls smile at your words, feeling a sense of accomplishment swell within themselves. Back when they were trainees they never imagined that they'd end up this far, and yet here they are, seeing their dreams come true, day after day.

You're just happy to be along for the ride. It's not easy by any means -- people often crack under the pressure and get discouraged by the hustle and bustle of everything that such a major operation entails -- but you've never been more thankful for a position in your life.

"As they should," Lisa smirks, looking self-assured with the little cocky motion she does. You almost choke on the piece of food you just stuffed in your mouth, laughing at how ridiculous she looks.

After successfully not dying, you look at her and shake your head. "Lisa, what is wrong with you?" She puts on her infamous meme face, pretending to be shocked by your question, and you cackle again. The sound makes Rosé jealous; she wishes she were the one making you laugh like that.

Another hour or so passes with the 5 of you just relaxing and snacking together at the table, taking turns trading stories and jokes in the meantime. After finishing your dessert and complimenting the unnie's cooking skills, you make your way towards the kitchen with a groan of, "I'm so full" thrown over your shoulder.

You begin washing the dishes, finding it only fitting seeing as they spent all that time preparing such a good meal. It's the least you can do. A smile tugs at your cheeks when you hear the door open, followed by light footfalls against the hardwood. Jennie.

Warm arms snake around your waist as she hugs you from behind, resting her cheek against your back. Your brows furrow when you notice an unusual thing -- either Jennie grew a few inches in the last 5 minutes, or someone else is holding you. Their cheek reaches a place Jennie isn't tall enough to, and it all hits you.

It's Rosé.

You go to shut the water off and step away, but the sounds of her quiet sniffles give you pause. "Please don't." She whispers into your shirt, bunching the material up within her fingers against your stomach. A pang of sadness pulls against your heart strings, the long forgotten feeling reignited by the waver in her voice. "Rosé," you start with a sigh, ready to launch into the practiced speech of how happy you are with Jennie now and how you've moved on. She tugs at your shirt, slowly turning you around, and you can't find it in yourself to break her heart even further in this moment. Her eyes are filled with what tears have yet to stream down her face, brimming with the salty liquid you hate to see.

Even after everything, you can't stand to see her cry.

So, perhaps stupidly, you allow her to lean forward and rest her head against your chest; you let her fall into your arms, sinking into the embrace she never intended to miss so much.

It was innocent. Completely, utterly innocent, but Rosé couldn't stop herself -- not when you were there again, right in front of her, looking so good it hurt. She wrapped her arms around your neck, pushing her lips against yours in a kiss you weren't prepared for at all. Her mouth moved quickly against yours, knowing you'd be shoving her away at any moment. But she was okay with being selfish again -- she needed you then, and you allowed her to keep kissing you until you realized what was happening.

As you go to stumble away and put distance between the two of you, the door once again opens; only this time, it's actually Jennie. Her eyes immediately dart between the two of you as she notices how Rosie's hands are still holding you close, both of your lips swollen from the kiss. All at once you realize how the situation must look, and you begin panicking. You knew this was a bad idea from the start.

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." You shake your head, finally freeing yourself of Rosé's grip as you take a couple steps towards your girlfriend. She takes an equal amount back, scoffing lightly at the memory of the scene she just witnessed.

"Yeah, okay," she says, sounding anything but convinced as she makes her way towards the door. You go after her, but she holds a hand up -- after knowing her for so long, you've learned that that signal means to give her some time alone. Both of you know you'll go after her again later, but she needs some time right now. As she leaves the dorm, the heavy sound of the door shutting is the only noise that cuts through the palpable tension.

"How could you do that?" You ask, voice small, not even turning around to look at Rosé. You doubt that she's even sorry.

She isn't sorry. At least, not for kissing you. It felt good to have you like that, and she doesn't regret it. However, from what angle of your face your side profile offers to her, she can see how upset you are. That's what makes her feel the slightest bit guilty for her timing.

"I spent so much time trying to get you to notice me, and now you choose to do that? You're unbelievable, Roseanne-- I'm finally happy, and what, you want to ruin that?” She takes the blows as they come, staying quiet. “If you've ever cared about me at all then you'll stay away." You set your jaw, willing the tears to go away. You've wasted too many on her, and you'll be damned to look weak right now.

"Y/N, I-"

"No. Don't apologize when we both know you don't mean it. You've always been selfish, Rosé." You bite back, not caring if the words cut her down like her old ones always used to do to you. Earlier, before her little stunt, you were starting to feel sorry for her; clearly though, that was yet another mistake on your part.

You leave without another word, praying that she doesn't further complicate the situation by following after you. Jennie is the only thing on your mind as you hop in your car, having an idea of where she might be.

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think."

Your worried voice replays in her mind for the millionth time, further tormenting her. She's been cheated on before, so that phrase isn't a new thing to her.

She was always afraid this would happen. She used to lay awake at night, overthinking as usual, wondering when the beautiful thing the two of you created would ultimately come crashing down. It was too good to be true, and she curses herself for foolishly believing any different.

The better part of an hour passes by as she sits on the park bench, reminiscing on all the memories you've made here. The idea of ending things with you and starting over with someone else sinks in, and she hates the feeling. She only wants you -- she's only ever wanted you -- and the thought that things could really be over now hurts her more than she cares to admit.

Your eyes scan across the park, ghosting over the playground equipment until they zero in on her, sitting near the fountain that you shared your first kiss. Such a sap, you smile bittersweetly.

You ruffle through the plastic bag that sits in the passenger's seat, moving the receipt out of the way so that you can pick up what you're really after. Returning your hands to the steering wheel, you grip it while giving yourself a little pep talk before exiting the car. You press a kiss to the present in your hand for good luck, hoping this encounter will go well.

Water spouts from the top of the fountain, the sound growing louder the closer you get to Jennie. Her back is turned to you, and for that you're thankful -- you're not quite prepared to see how she'll be looking at you. Now just a few feet away, you say, "Marry me."

You’ll do whatever it takes to show her how crazy you are about her.

Her head whips around, completely taken aback by your proposal. She thinks that there's no way you're serious, but when she looks down to find her favorite flavor of ring pop in your hand, her eyes widen. You're sick of wasting time, and seeing that she hasn't yelled at you or turned you away yet, you take advantage of the situation.

"Marry me, Jennie," you repeat, taking small, careful steps towards her until you're right next to the bench. "She kissed me, but I tried to push her away. I told her that you're the only one for me."

She blinks, taking in your words as she notices you nervously toy with the plastic wrapper of the candy. She knows you're telling the truth; you're a terrible liar, and you wouldn't be here right now if you didn't want her back. If you wanted to choose Rosé over her, you had the perfect opportunity to do so back at the dorm.

But you don't; you want Jennie, and now you're standing in the middle of your favorite park, proposing with a piece of candy to prove that to her. The things you do for love.

"It just scared me, Y/N. Seeing her wrapped around you like that--"

"I know, baby. I know. But I promise I didn't want it, and it meant nothing to me. I'm so in love with you, Jennie Kim."

She smiles at the dopey grin on your face, seeing how smitten you are.

"Okay," she answers back, yet again looking at your hands.

"Is that a yes?" You ask, slowly beginning to tear open the wrapper.

"Yes, dummy. I'll marry you." She declares, nodding her head with a laugh at how slow you are sometimes.

"Yay!" You shout, stepping forward to pick her up in your arms. You set her back down with a smile, slipping the ring onto her finger as your heart soars.

Jennie kisses you, letting the action convey all the emotions she's been through in the past few hours. "I love you." She sighs, resting her forehead against yours.

"I'd surely hope so, jagi," you smirk against her lips, giggling at the squeal she lets out when you playfully pinch her side. Her kisses are replacing all traces of Rosé, and she's comforted by the fact that you'll so adamantly choose her, everyday.

With a smile, Jennie realizes something: never again will she be forced to dream of having you in another life -- her wishes came true, and now she'll have you in this one, always.

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tunafishprincess · 3 years

Text

Darkening Seas

A DFO Secret Santa gift for Moon_Lantern

——————————

Izuku feared many things in his short sixteen years of existence.

As a child he feared the wails of ocean storms, huddled in bed with his mother as rain and wind pounded their small home, a common monster for the children of his small village. She would whisper spells of protection as he clung to her form, as if the storm itself were trying to get inside.

It wasn’t until he didn’t receive his mark that he learned that there were greater fears, the kinds that haunted him to this day. Fears of losing friends, for one. For another, fear of the village’s suspicions whenever something bad happened. The Markless weren’t a common bunch and in his childhood home, he was the only one in several generations not to be blessed by a god.

In spite of all the fears he had, however, there was always hope. His mother, even on her deathbed, always promised him a better tomorrow. Even if today was bad, there was always a chance that the next day would bring a better outcome. She was right in a way. It was hope that brought him to All Might, a hero beyond compare that bestowed his own Mark onto the boy, a power that still hummed beneath his skin.

His muddy fingers rose subconsciously, patting at the tattoo on his shoulder. Traveling with All Might had been a dream beyond comparison.

Sadly, all dreams must come to an end.

As a teen, he learned to fear more than village discrimination. At fifteen, he discovered that not all gods bestowed gifts.

All Might taught him to respect the old gods, but not to bow to their whims. When the sea attacked the land, Izuku followed his mentor to the battle, ready to die a hero. Instead, his mentor had been swallowed by the sea and Izuku---

Well, death would have been preferable at this point.

Another itch broke out near his neck. He scratched at the spot but the move did little to soothe the real problem: he needed a bath.

Begrudgingly, he stomped out the rest of his fire, gathering his things to make the small trek to the lagoon he’d been eyeing days before. There wasn’t much to pack, though he wasn’t sure whether he should be thankful or not about that. His food rations had dwindled considerably these past few weeks, his fear of exposure outweighing his need to resupply. He still had aways to go before he got back to the great city of Musutafu. Even if his ailment could not be cured he at least had friends who would care for him there.

His throat bobbed. Well, he hoped he still did.

He arrived at the lagoon within a few hours time, the area as empty as the first time he’d spotted it. It set him on edge.

As beautiful and blue as the seawater seemed, the Kamino sea lay just beyond the exposed shoal.

He licked at his cracked lips nervously. His skin ached to be cleaned and he knew he probably smelled horrendous from so many weeks on the road without washing. Peeling off his dirty clothes, he set them aside from his bag, hiding both in-between the rocks high above the waters.

Goosebumps ran up his arms as he approached the waters. The sun was still high enough in the sky, though a few clouds did beckon across the skyline, the promise of rain both a blessing and a curse with his current predicament.

Hopping onto a large rock, he observed the depths before finally taking the plunge.

Fire traveled through his veins as the curse took hold. He closed his eyes to avoid it, but he felt the changes, bones cracking and reshaping to the curse’s preference. Where once were two average feet now had melted together like butter, soon followed by his calves and thighs until it was all one limb. His nails transformed into claws as he clenched his fists. Tiny pinpricks of pain erupted across what were once two legs, the formation of scales and webbing overwhelming to his enhanced senses. By the end, he was a shaking pitiful mess, his now alien tongue running along the rows and rows of teeth inside his mouth as he took in his first breath of seawater.

He hated how much he had craved this.

His ears flipped back and lowered as far as they could go, a subconscious response to his predicament.

Old Gods be damned, he inwardly cursed, lowering himself down to the sand. He brushed his body with the coarse material, ridding himself of the dead skin and grim he’d accumulated. Moments later he rolled over on his back, repeating the process for several minutes until he was clean.

The first transformation he had cried, mourning the loss of his mentor and fearing the loss of his humanity. Now, on his fifth time, he just wanted to get it over and done with, hating all the strange sensations he had now as one of the very creatures his mentor fought back into the sea only a few months prior.

He blinked, second eyelids a half-second slower than his first, observing the underwater world around him with interest. He didn’t have much time to enjoy his surroundings, however.

The scent of food captured his stomach’s attention. Before he even had time to think his body began to move, less the awkward teen he was and more of the predator he had become.

On a normal day, he would not have been so adventurous, but Izuku had finished his last meager rations two days ago and hadn’t had meat in an even longer time. It would be fine, he reasoned, he was still in the lagoon and the sun would be up for several more hours.

The pristine sand landscape slowly transformed into a dense rocky forest of dead coral. It was a beautiful but haunting reminder of how cruel the sea could be, giving and taking away life like the gods who ruled them.

The water tickled his hair as he swam down the slope of the lagoon, the scent growing stronger as the light began to fade.

He hoped it was something edible, perhaps a glow whale like the one meal All Might introduced him to so many months ago after his first battle. His lips pulled upwards at the memory. Even the tough skin of an Armored Squid or a greasy Floor-Feeder Fish would taste like heaven at this point. His stomach gurgled, instincts driving him further and further away from shore.

Strangely, the slope seems to be reversing the further he swims, ascending until he spots a familiar group of rocks he had come across but only a few days before. The problem was, he thought with a nervous gulp, they had been part of the shoal that protected the lagoon.

He shook his head. No, no that couldn’t be right. That would mean the waters had risen by several meters and Izuku would have felt that.

But what about the high tide, the logical part of him pointed out, sending his mind into a frenzy.

His gaze flickered to the sky, noting the sun’s position with alarm. Had it truly been more than an hour? He returned his attention to the rocks. It could be his mind playing tricks on him. It wouldn’t be the first time. Paranoia had been a constant companion since he lost his mentor. The small fading hope that All Might was still alive had battled with the fear of the old gods wrecking further vengeance upon the teen for stepping into their domain.

His stomach ached. This was no longer a want, but a need. His hand glided over the Mark on his shoulder. The warmth pulsed beneath his palm. He would get the food and get back to shore as soon as possible. His tail swished impatiently as he drew out the energy of One for All. Veins of light traveled down his scales. With one kick he was zooming past the white rocks, deeper and deeper into the watery expanse.

The first change he noted was the life in this part of the waters. Tiny fish (not edible, he thought grimly) danced between colorful seaweed, the warm waters giving way to a refreshing coolness as he followed the scent.

The scent ended as he approached a dense forest of red coral, jutting out like tall trees from the seagrass. At the center of the grove, the corpse of a small glow whale lay between two rocks. His teeth sharpened, the needle structures in his mouth extending as he approached. Still, he held back from digging in.

It was a fresh kill. Strangely, however, there was only one cut on the creature’s body, a thin slice between its thick blubber. He scanned the area. It had been out here for as long as he’d been in the water at least and not one scavenger?

His stomach gurgled, overriding his thoughts. Flexing his claws, he cut off a piece from the broken skin, taking a small bite.

He almost groaned. So delicious. He took another bite, then another.

He ate as if on autopilot, human manners forgotten as the creature’s hunger took hold. He was almost halfway through his meal when he noticed it.

The hairs on his neck prickled. A shadow danced across the sands. He froze. The Mark on his shoulder burned, blisteringly so.

He looked above.

The mers he and his master fought were minuscule in comparison to this one. The creature’s tail is the first thing Izuku noticed, four meters in length and the same color as the coral surrounding them. How...how long had it been here? As it drew closer the teen took in its human features. The mer was male, he thought, judging its large upper body that was covered in scars. Most of them were old, but they all told Izuku everything he needed to know: this creature was dangerous.

He drew away from the meal, hands waving frantically as he apologized for taking its food. He hadn’t known it was his. His Mark sent pulses of pain down his arm, urging him to continue his retreat.

“Once again, my apologies,” he said, hoping his words were understandable underneath the water. “You are welcome to have the rest. I’ll just leave you to it.”

He doesn’t get very far. The creature blocked him with his tail, tilting his head as he asked in an oddly deep voice, “Where are you going?”

The sound echoed through the waters, sending a shiver down the teen’s spine. He never should have swam out this far, food or not.

Izuku lied, “My master is waiting for me.”

A dark, foreboding smile played across the creature’s lips. He caught a glimpse of several sharp teeth as he spoke, “Your master?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, pulling away as fast as he could. The more distance he put between them the better. “I have to be going now.”

“Do you now?” The mer inched closer, never allowing the teen more than a meter of distance. “Why not stay? Come. Eat.”

“I can’t. I’m really sorry. I don’t want to worry him,” Izuku replied hurriedly. His Mark sent a burst of adrenaline through his blood. Hopefully, it would give him enough energy to get back to shore.

“He won’t be worried,” the mer said, drawing uncomfortably close as he continued to circle Izuku.

“No, he really will be,” he insisted.

“He can’t be,” the creature stated into his ear. “The drowned do not feel.”

Ice filled Izuku’s veins. Without a second thought he swished his tail into the sand, drawing it up to blind the now familiar monster.

He didn’t stick around, the roar of anger more than enough to drive the teen back through the way he came.

One for All bleed through his being, the lines of light providing him distance. Unfortunately, in his panic he had lost sight of his original path, now swimming blind as the light above was fading. How long had he been eating? His breathing grew labored.

That was All for One. It had to be. He remembered those eyes, back on the day his master was swallowed by the sea, staring him down from inside the waves. He had been a lot bigger then, an unseen force of nature that belaid a constantly changing shadow of otherworldly horror.

Of course an old god could take the form of one of its creatures. Izuku would have hit himself if he weren’t swimming for dear life.

His mind worked through realization after realization at breakneck speed. So long as he held the Mark of One for All, All for One would come for him. That was why he’d cursed Izuku in this form. It had been to get him back to his domain.

Black tendrils shot up from the sand. He avoided them by twisting into a narrow group of rocks. He eyed the surface. His energy would only last so long. He needed a direction back to land.

Inwardly, he grasped onto the power All Might bestowed upon him, mumbling a prayer to god. Like an arrow he shot up from the rocky formation, too fast for All for One’s tendrils.

He gasped as he broke through the surface. The sun had been overtaken by the earlier clouds. Faintly, he could smell an incoming storm. Turning about, he frantically searched for land.

Desperation gripped his soul. Nothing but dark gray seas surrounded him. No, he couldn’t have gone out that far. The distance he’d covered was short, unless…

Unless someone intentionally made it so.

His heart rate skyrocketed. The lagoon must have been submerged into the Kamino Sea when he was under the waves. The shoal had been the first clue. How long had All for One been planning this?

The water shifted beneath him. Izuku’s eyes widened as a dark shadow spread out beneath him, steadily growing and rising from the depths. In one last ditch effort he poured the rest of his energy into escaping. He doesn’t get very far.

A tendril grasps his arm, jerking him back. Another joins on his opposite arm. Izuku frantically shifted about to shake off the tentacles. Fear gripped his soul as a hand from the depths shot upwards to grab his right fin, tight and unyielding.

Izuku struggled to escape the old god’s grasp, yet the hold on his tail dragged him deeper and deeper into the depths. Another sharp tug brought him into the monster’s arms. Izuku clawed and bit at the offending limbs. To his dismay, the skin was too tough for him to break. A low vibration from All for One’s chest began to slow his movements, muscles no longer working for him but rather against him, falling limp to the soft hum. Was the old god laughing?

“This has been fun. I haven’t had a good chase in quite a while,” the elder god chuckled.

Izuku growled. Despite how terrified he was, he refused to yield. “Let me go.”

“Now, why would I do that?” The arms tightened around the teen.

“You can’t have One for All,” he ground out.

“Oh? But he’s right here, isn’t he?”

Large fingers grasp his shoulder. His body bucked as the burning from the Mark exploded. Flashes of color invaded his vision. One moment the monster had on a younger face, unblemished by scars and cruelty. The next moment the face returned, though it had been tempered with a layer of curiosity.

“Does it hurt?”

Izuku gasped as the aches continued through his body. “Yes.”

A cruel smile danced across the old god’s face. “How interesting. Even now my little brother continues to resist me.”

They sank deeper, much to Izuku’s horror. In the distance, he heard an unnatural roar, followed by more and more, until the sound nearly overwhelmed him. The teen tried to cover his ears but the elder god pulled them down, refusing to give him relief.

The depths took on an uncomfortable chill. He shivered.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked between breaths.

All for One buried his mouth in the teen’s hair. The needle-like fangs were unnervingly close to his scalp. “We’re going home, my little guppy. Where you always belonged.”

Izuku blinked, energy leaving his body as he thought over the monster’s words.

“My home is on land,” he mumbled.

“Yes, it was. Once,” he whispered as the rest of the light faded from view. “But not anymore.”

The low hum returned. Izuku’s body loosened and relaxed, even as his mind and Mark screamed at him to move. All for One seemed to sense this, pressing him closer to his body so as to block any attempt at escape.

Amidst the blackness, he made out a great shape, a mockery of the castle he and his master once visited. The miasma surrounding it made the teen’s stomach roll with disgust.

“Welcome home, Izuku.”

#dad for one #mha fanfic #izuku midoriya #mha au #mer dfo #mer deku #dfo secret Santa

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Note

what about a villain ‘reformed’ by being given like nasea-inducing things (hsjahd i forgot the word) whenever they show violence? like they project a scene that involves violence in front of the villain and then give the thing so they become conditioned to feel sick at the mention of violence? idk :,)

This is such an interesting prompt, and honestly I wish I had time to do more with it! Conditioning is one of my favorite tropes, but I’ve only ever seen it with fear/pain, not nausea (and don’t worry I can hardly ever spell that word correctly either.) I hope I did your great prompt justice here! In a very weird way this is also pretty much what I did at work today so. Inspiration I guess??

For obvious reasons, please take care reading if you have emetophobia or are otherwise sensitive to depictions of nausea or vomiting. For this reason the story is beneath a readmore.

CW//Captivity, restraints, tied to a chair, restricted vision, IVs, very minor eye whump, nausea, vomiting, medical malpractice

“What the- What are you doing?!” Villains head turned on a broken swivel, struggling to look in every which direction at once. Yet, even if they could accomplish this goal, it would do nothing to provide their answers.

The room was dark-- they could see that. A sort of artificial darkness, nearly reminiscent of the interior of a movie theater, pausing to breathe between its shows. Yet, any attempts to gain further details were thwarted in an instant.

They couldn’t tell how many hands there were, and counting them would have been a waste of time as much as energy. Regardless, there were more than enough hands, more than enough bodies, to overpower them. To place them where they pleased.

And, in that instance, their intended location just so happened to be a chair.

The piece of blocky furniture was the only object in the whole chamber that Villain could definitively name. More than a chair, it resembled perhaps a block of metal, from which a seat had been carved.

They struggled, of course they did, lashing out with whatever limb was not at the moment held by strong grip. But, as soon as their spine was slammed into the chair’s flat back, that singular, final hope of escape was evaporated.

Those grasping and gripping hands found themselves with a new goal: Securing the thousands of straps that hung from the chair in which Villain had been forced. The leather grabbed their wrists, their arms, their ankles and legs, anchoring their chest and shoulders to rings that had been placed for that purpose.

“Let me go!” Even their screams were restrained, their lungs given nowhere near the room they needed to properly expand. “What are you-”

Villain’s voice was clamped shut alongside their jaw, teeth clacking together and sending a shot of dazed numbness through them. The arrangement was secured with an unseen apparatus, tightened around their head, holding their jaw closed, their vision restricted by dual pairs of blinders, allowing them to look nowhere but forward.

As though they had any freedom of movement remaining, the restraint device upon their head was forced back, secured to the chair’s back and allowing not a millimeter of squirming.

Their muscles strained, chest heaving, but they had been trapped within themself. Even their eyes could not close, something holding their upper lids firmly open.

Villain tried to scream, but had not the voice or breath for it.

“Good.”

A simple, single word, and the chaos ceased. With a series of nods and hums, the swarming mass of bodies cleared. Though, if any remained, such was invisible to the villain. Not even their eyes retained their freedom.

With a loud thud, the door closed, leaving Villain alone with the bare, tiled wall before them.

“Place the line.”

They inhaled sharply. Not alone. They had no indication of where the remaining people stood, but they were there. It was more than certain.

One of them drew closer- no, two, two sets of footsteps, approaching from either side. The villain’s eyes swiveled back and forth, only to be met by the restrictive blackness of the blinders, refusing to show them the slightest glance.

While one of the invisible strangers gripped their arm, the other took their head.

With the latter’s actions, their last vein of freedom was severed. A pair of heavy, over-the-ear headphones, placed over their skull and secured to the restraint that already existed there. When the other stranger acted, they could not so much as hear their footsteps.

Their sense of hearing stolen from them, Villain had no warning for the rubber tourniquet, gripping their arm, nor for the freezing alcohol wipe, or the sharp stab of pain that followed in the inside of their elbow. A whimper died in their restrained throat.

For several, agonizing, terrifying minutes (or perhaps moments), the world stilled. When it at last began to move again, it did not do so in the form of pain or touch. Instead, in their restricted vision, Villain watched as a projector screen was pulled down, until it filled every last inch of their sight.

The light that shot from the screen urged them to flinch, to close their eyes, yet they had the capability to do neither.

“A civilian managed to capture this footage, live from the scene.”

The voice sent a jolt of panic through the restrained villain, instinct insisting that their whirl around to locate its source. Yet, when logic returned to them, they realized quite quickly where the noise had come from: Their headphones.

Before them, the screen ignited to life, filling their field of vision with technicolor pixels.

A video.

The camera shook, ever so slightly, as it zoomed in on a far-off rooftop. As it did so, the two figures atop the building came into clear view.

If Villain had the capacity, they would have gasped. A friend and a rival. A villain and a hero.

The former struck first.

That was when the warmth began.

There wasn’t an ounce of comfort about it. Instead, it was a sickening heat. That exuded by the forehead of the fevered, flowing into their arm.

The villain could not feel as the sickness spread through their veins. Instead, it only made itself known when it reached their stomach.

On the screen, the villain sent a blast of ice forth, knocking their opponent to the ground with a crunch and shattering of crystals.

In their ice-cold seat, Villain’s body lurched forward, bile shooting from their stomach to their throat. Nausea struck them, all at once, twisting their intestines into balloon animals and making them dry heave until their throat felt to have been shredded by cat’s claws.

As though timed, when their desperate gagging at last ceased, so did the video. Of course, not an instant of rest was allotted. The next series of colors and sounds began in an instant.

“Thank you, everyone! It’s a delight to see you here at the 5th annual Festival of Heroes!”

The applause that burst from their headphones threatened to explode their eardrums.

This time, the warmth that flooded their veins came not with sickness, but, instead, with the soft heat of a blanket.

Beyond Villain’s restricted sight and hearing, two lab coats leaned against a wall, sipping coffee as though it were a synchronized sport.

“Do we really have to stand in here the whole time?”

“I guess, yeah. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Eh, who knows. Come on, it’s only three hours.”

“Yeah, three hours we can’t be in the lab.”

“It’s like a long break, kinda.”

“Fair enough. How often do we have to do this?”

“Seven days a week.” The lab coat shrugged. “Until expected results are achieved.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As though watching flowers flash by from the window of a roadtrip-bound vehicle, around Villain, the identical walls of the HQ sped by.

Their direction was irrelevant, as was their aim. There was one, singular thing that mattered in that moment: They were free, their limbs moving under their own control. No chair to hold them down, no blinders to restrict their eyes.

They didn’t care how long it lasted. It was a euphoric, momentary liberty, and the fact that it had happened at all was enough to keep them going.

They made it about two hundred feet. Two hundred feet of hallway, two hundred feet away from the Experimental Conditioning Center. They hardly managed to stop, retaining their balance by the slimmest of margins as they skidded to a halt.

The guard was at least twice their size. Perhaps more. There was no hesitance to their swing, nor was there any to the villain’s dodge, sending them out of the blow’s range.

And sending a shot of warm, sickly bile, directly into their stomach.

When the lab coats at last caught up to Villain, they had been reduced to shivering on their hands and knees as everything they had ever eaten, so it seemed, was expelled from their mouth in the form of green sludge.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop?”

“Dunno.”

“You’ve gotta admit, though, it’s kinda funny.”

“It gets less funny when you see it three times a week.”

#villain whumpee #doctor whumper #lab whump #sickfic #sick whump #hero villain whump #whumpblr #whump community

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jj-babebank · 3 years

Text

Room 107 // chapter III // JJ Maybank (smut)

This story picks up where season 2 leaves us.

TW: May contain mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CAN BE FOUND HERE: one ; two

Chapter 3 - La Ganga

Samara’s hand was still resting on JJ’s knee as her eyes sultrily bored into his, waiting for his response. JJ’s head was spinning in a thousand different directions, trying to assess what exactly was going on. The main issue he had with this whole ordeal was that she didn’t in fact invite him over because she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. The sad truth, as JJ came to realise, was that this annoyingly attractive girl had simply overheard him boasting to his friends about the gold that they had found, and respectively lost, and now she wanted a piece of that instead. JJ sighed loudly. As much as he hated to admit that this was a bad idea, he pushed that thought very far to the side and tried to negotiate with the part of his brain that didn’t think logically, which in his case was the dominating one. What exactly could he lose here? The chances of them finding the Royal Merchant gold were extremely low, to the point where they were almost non-existent. This girl was voluntarily offering to help them find it, and she was also willingly to let them stay in her family’s hotel for free until further notice. How JJ saw this was extremely straight-forward and simple - Samara asks for part of the gold, Samara offers her help in return for the gold, JJ accepts said offer and lets her help, growing closer to her in the meantime, seducing her and eventually winning her over, so that even they don’t find the actual treasure, she realises that the real treasure was right there with her all along, at it wore worn down biker boots and went by the name of JJ Maybank. Yep, that sounded like a great plan, one of his best plans yet, if he did say so himself. He looked down at Samara’s hand still on his knee, a ball of excitement growing in his stomach just at the sight of it being there, then he looked up at her face, twisting the corners of his thin lips into a smirk. “You have yourself a deal, gorgeous,” he said, his confidence suddenly returning to his body. The old JJ senses were coming back headfirst and he was feeling great about it. Samara smiled in return, raising her glass for a toast, “To working together,” JJ clinked his glass with hers, sending her a wink, “To working with each other,” The pair sat in silence for a moment, JJ mostly admiring the girl sitting next to him, before she broke the silence, “Where did you say you were from, JJ?” “We never got to that part, actually,” he answered, glad that Samara was taking interest in him, “I’m from a place called the Outer Banks, more specifically Kildare. It’s in North Carolina, right by the coast.” He explained, painting an imaginary picture of what he was saying with his hands, "You know, prior to ending up here, which was a total coincidence by the way, the furthest I’d been from Kildare was Charleston. I, uh, I haven’t really been anywhere.” Samara was studying his face while he was talking. She had asked him a simple question and was expecting a simple answer, yet this boy could just seemingly not stop talking. She couldn’t decide whether it was annoying, or strangely endearing. She almost felt bad for having to shut him up to change the topic to what she had actually called him over for, “So tell me about this gold,” Lucky for her, JJ didn’t seem to mind her direct approach to the change of subject, instantly going into another story - the one that interested her the most. “Funny you ask,” he said enthusiastically, taking a rather big sip of his wine, “So as I said, I’m from the Outer Banks. Let me describe the OBX to you - it’s an odd place, you see, a place much like any other in the sense that it’s divided into rich and poor, however that divide is a suuuuper big deal to us. You’ve got the rich and elite bastards called the Kooks, and you’ve also got the not so lucky ones who work for them - the Pogues. Me and those guys you so kindly invited into your home, are, well, were Pogues. Except for Sarah, she was rich-rich.” There it was again - JJ getting completely side-tracked in his own thoughts, talking about irrelevant to the topic of conversation things.

Samara somehow found it entertaining and she wasn’t particularly bothered by it so she just let him speak, hoping that he’d eventually get to the point. “- so one day, it turned out that John B’s old man was dead, although he’d left behind all these clues and well, one thing lead to another, we found the gold, except we weren’t the only people looking for it, obviously,” Bingo, there it was - the gold. Samara knew this was her cue to focus, “- so when we were finally within touching distance of the gold and the cross - boom - we threw ourselves of the ship to dodge getting totally killed, and, well, here we are.” JJ wrapped up his story, leaning back into the couch and sighing contently with what he believed to be a great short summary of what had happened to him and his friends, finishing the rest of his wine. Samara frowned as she did the same, “Hold that thought,” she said, standing up and disappearing into the diner for a brief moment, before coming back with a bottle of the infamous whiskey from earlier, it had just enough contents to fill up one more glass each. JJ smirked at the sight of her when she sat back down next to him and she frowned dramatically, “What? I thought this called for something a bit stronger.” JJ didn’t protest as the pretty brunette refilled their wine glasses with the harder liquor, “I have a cousin up in Daytona,” she said as matter-of-factly, “He owns a motel in the Holly Hill area. We can crash up there while we head up north. We’ll leave first thing Thursday morning, before my aunt and cousin come back. I’ll make sure we have everything we need by then, we have just enough time.” “Why are we heading up north?” JJ looked puzzled, “And how many cousins with hotels do you have?” “Seeing as we know virtually nothing about where these people were heading, the most logical thing that we can do is go back to the Outer Banks and try finding out as much as we can from there. There must be someone who knows.” The more she spoke, the more it made sense to JJ. Ward would have made sure to erase all of his traces by now, Rafe would have tried his best to follow in his father’s footsteps, however there was one member of the Cameron family who was, for the lack of a better word, messy. And that was Wheezie Cameron, Sarah’s younger sister. JJ was sure that Ward would have changed all of their phone numbers, if they were even still allowed to have a phone, however the thought of Wheezie Cameron totally removing herself from social media was by far absurd to JJ. He was sure that they would be able to somehow trace her even without having to go all the way back to the OBX, but before they could do that, this was their only option. Samara had turned out smarter than he had made her out to be initially. She was cunning, generous and helpful, all traits that JJ never thought he’d find this attractive in a woman. Hell, up until now he’d never even looked for any traits in women beyond their physical appearance, yet here he was - a changed man. “You, miss,” he pointed at her with the hand he held his wine glass in, “Are a genius. Has anyone ever told you that?” Samara snickered, although she couldn’t help the slight blush that was painting itself across her tanned cheeks, “Don’t push your luck too much, JJ, we’ve only just met,” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, almost appearing shy for a split second. This didn’t go unnoticed by JJ and he took it as a green light to scoot a bit closer to her, to the point where their faces were inches apart. He couldn’t help but breathe her scent in, and boy did she smell alluring, her perfume heavy and somewhat oriental, at least that’s how JJ would describe it. It reminded him of all the times he’d served tables down on Figure Eight and rich Kook girls would walk past him, leaving behind a scent of expensive designer perfume. Samara almost reminded him of a rich Kook girl, she looked so well put together and so on top of her shit. Good thing they weren’t in the OBX anymore, otherwise his friends would grill him for breaking the one promise he had made to himself

long, long ago - never getting with a Kook. Except she wasn’t a Kook, they weren’t in the OBX and much to his dismay - him and her were hardly getting with each other. He realised that winning Samara over would take time, and lucky for him, he had all the time in the world. Finding Ward and the gold would take a while and he was up for an adventure, especially since it included this gorgeous young lady. He studied her some more. Her skin looked so soft, and so did her lips - so soft, so inviting. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, shaped like almonds, and the way she batted her luscious lashes almost made her seem like she was keeping a number of dark and dangerous secrets. JJ knew that deep down she saw something in him, too. She just needed the right push to admit it. A stray strand of her hair fell in her face and before she could react, JJ gently tucked it away behind her ear, taking his time when his fingers met her face. He let them linger there for a second before pulling his hand away. “Thanks,” was all that she could say. “Don’t mention it,” he said gently, “We’re gonna be partners after all, we’ve gotta help each other out, right?” Samara almost rolled her eyes at the sound of JJ referring to them as ‘partners’, but she withheld from it. Something about this boy was very endearing to her, in a lost puppy type of way, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she didn’t entirely dislike his company. Au contraire, it had been a while since she had had someone around. This didn’t seem all bad to her - she would go for a little adventure, make some friends, and if all goes to plan, she’ll come home with a bag full of gold. Hell, if she felt frisky enough she could even JJ the time of day once or twice - no strings attached, of course. He seemed keen enough, that much she knew. And she had never been with anyone in that way before, much to everyone’s disbelief. She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course, especially not now. Perhaps it was the alcohol speaking, but she suddenly found him so attractive. He was her usual type - seemed like the local bad boy back home, the one who didn’t abide by the rules and got himself in trouble more often than not - and only God knew just how much Samara liked the bad boys. His fingers, although rough and calloused, left the softest touch, and she was ashamed to admit she wished he’d left them there for a moment longer. She crossed her legs and sat up straighter, trying to regain her composure. She knew she’d had enough to drink. She couldn’t do this here, especially not tonight, not in her aunt’s hotel. She knew that if she didn’t call quits to the night now, things might get ugly and she didn’t want to lose her composure with JJ yet. “Shall we?” She said, trying her hardest to sound as confident and unfazed as she could, “Head to bed I mean,” She quickly added, mentally kicking herself for not clearing it up and potentially giving JJ the wrong idea. Judging by the growing smirk on the boy’s face she realised she’d just dug herself a hole. “I thought we’d only just met, Miss La Guardiana,” he winked, standing up and offering his hand to help her up. She accepted it and turned on her heel towards the stairs as soon as she was on her feet, sassily flipping her hair as she did so. JJ followed after her, smirk only growing as they walked up the stairs and into the hallway to their respective rooms. When they reached JJ’s room, they both stopped, Samara leaning against the wall. “Fill your friends in on our plan so far,” she said, “About heading up to Daytona, I mean. I’ll take care of everything else until then.” JJ raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what she meant by ‘everything else’. She noticed his confusion and decided to clear it up, “I’ll sort out some clothes for all of you, food is on the house, we’ll also need some cash so…” she eyed JJ up and down, an idea forming in her head, “Perhaps you could be useful while we’re still here and work for it, I’m thinking… waiter?” JJ almost laughed, “Baby girl, you name it - I’ve probably done it. Back home, there isn’t a job I

haven’t worked, just to make enough to put food on the table. Besides, serving food and drinks is the least I could do to repay your kindness,” his eyes darkened as he took a step closer to Samara. His face was getting dangerously close to hers, never breaking eye contact, “It’ll be my pleasure to work for you, miss La Guardiana,” Samara held her ground, trying to keep her cool as much as she physically could. On the inside, she was on fire. “Likewise, mister Kildare,” she whispered, inching her body closer to JJ’s; she wanted to push his buttons as far as she could in the moment. They stood there in silence for a moment; they didn’t need to say anything - their eyes were doing all the talking. JJ couldn’t keep his eyes off Samara’s lips, though when he finally gave in and leaned forward, the girl took a sudden step backwards towards her room, leaving him breathless. “Make sure you wake all of your friends up early tomorrow,” she simply said, “You didn’t think you’d be the only one who’d have to work for a living around here did you? “ she faked a grimace, still stepping backwards towards her room, “Meet me tomorrow in the lobby at 8. We’ve got work to do,” she stopped in front of her door, pressing her key into the lock, “Oh, and JJ?” Her door clicked open, “I really enjoyed tonight. Looking forward to our next date. Goodnight,” with that, she was gone. Did she say date? JJ stood in the hallway for a moment before going into his room. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face even if he wanted to. Samara totally had a thing for him and he couldn’t wait to dive into this new adventure - the gold being the last thing on his mind, because maybe, just maybe, Samara wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

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