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fic-over-cannon · 9 months

Text

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

#jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #jason todd #soulmate au #tw grief #sunnie writes 🌻

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callooopie · 2 months

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Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. 2)

— The hastily written during work break edition —

I get messages from the stars, when you’re making love to me — Messages From the Stars // The Rah Band

i go to college to get more knowledge but why does college interfere with my tumblr writing 😔 I’m not even at school yet and I’ve gotta start kicking into academic gear..

In light of some recent episode developments. I think I’ll rescind the headcannon that his name is Benjicot Davos. It’s just Davos now. (Lowkey… I thought HBO would just honestly write out the character of Benjicot… I was apparently wrong when they just mentioned him ig) anyways new headcannon Davos has a little brother, surprise. Ben’s gotta learn unhinged behavior from somewhere after all.. and what better way to start than with his “cool” older brother.

You know that text post that goes like “Have you ever argued with your girlfriend?” “Nope. She tells me to shut up and I do.” That was actually a text convo between Davos and his friend. He’s dumb, but not stupid. If you tell him to do something he’s doing it (as long as it’s legal… then again he’s really not the type to listen to the law)

He likes slow and domestic mornings. Getting up late, brushing your teeth together. He’ll flick water at you as you’re brushing your hair or doing your skincare routine with the most dopey and tired smile. He knows he’s won when you stop what you’re doing to stare at him with an unamused look. He washes his face like a lunatic though (both hands just furiously rubbing his face with little to no product). He’ll make the coffee and you turn on the tv. Pure silence except for the background noise of a news channel or show. Don’t even get him started on the part where you both fall back asleep on the couch as the sun rises and sunlight funnels in through the curtains. Pure bliss.

He LOVES girls night. How did he get an invite? He didn’t! But he’s quiet and normal, so he gets the girls night pass. It could be just you, or a few friends, even a group. But Davos will be there using the face masks, eating the finger food, drinking the fancy drinks. His girls night pass gets revoked though because he does not pay attention to the talk. He’s too busy devouring the charcuterie board to care about drama! …oh that’s the whole point of girls night? Oh… “Oh—and we like her right? …she’s problematic? …So we hate her? Oh… okay yeah she sounded weird—“

“Unique” pet names. There’s always the classics (love, darling, cutie, honey) but he’s got a few under his belt that turn heads, in a bad way maybe. He starts off pretty tame, he uses “my lady” a lot (chivalry-pilled). “Ma’am” too. “My lady” has a chance to devolve into “my liege” :/ Davos calls you pookie and you call him pookie back. You’re both pookie what can I say (sometimes uses the shortened ‘pooks’). Every single pet name he uses must have ‘my’ in front of it. “Do you want to get that pizza from that one place, my lady? Yeah? Okay—No I can pay don’t worry about it, my lovely.”

If you’re not a gamer, but you like to play in both casual and competitive games with him. The only reason you’re having a pretty good game in a competitive game is because Davos is fighting for his life to give you guys the W. Sometimes you’re a little lost, sometimes you clutch up. But usually it’s him, keyboard furiously clicking, eyes darting around his monitor. His face is literally in the monitor he’s so locked in. And you’re just in the call like (“Aw dang it I died.. woww you make it look so easy!”) “Me? No you’re doing work too—look at all those assists and kills you got. You’re pulling your weight too. You get ‘em low I clean up. It’s these other fuckers on our team that aren’t—“ (he went 30/14/5 and you went 10/21/16)

Regardless of your skills in video games, he gets so hype for you in them. Casual or competitive, he’s screaming about every single achievement you or you both make. A clutch round you win all by yourself? GG EZ TELL EM TO GO NEXT THEY DON’T WANT YOUR SMOKE. You build something in your shared Minecraft world? Stunning, beautiful. The architecture is to die for. The redstone? You did that all yourself? He would’ve thought you followed a tutorial it was so good!

Can eat, will eat. He’s a big strong boy, he’s gotta eat. Which means if you ask for Taco Bell or McDonald’s at 2 am? He’s gonna get some with you! You can honestly just text him an order and he’ll understand right away. This turns into you both driving around late at night, music blasting and you feeding him fries. Speaking of food; he’s a heavy believer in the ‘boyfriend tax’. He will steal a sip of your drink or a bite of your food, regardless of consequences.

I do believe Davos is sassy. It’s like dangerous levels of sass he gives you sometimes. It makes you do a double take. Side-eyes, eye rolls, scoffs, dramatic sighs. He is a drama queen.

How he deals with others who bother you in public can range between normal and not normal. Davos has a few options that run through his mind when you encounter a catcaller or unwanted advances. He can either tell the guy to fuck off, start a fight, start barking at him. He will bark, he has barked. It startled you more than the offending guy. But also Davos knows when to get serious, when to actually deal with someone who’s invading your space or not leaving you alone. He’s a tall dude, he works out. He can be pretty imposing. And he’s not afraid to be the first one to hit or push, especially if the offending man has gotten on his nerves too. And not just because they were trying to flirt or shoot a shot at you.

A big aquarium date guy. Or any date really. Actually, any way he can hang out or be near you is considered a date to him and something that makes his day much better. He likes spending time with you, and he likes showing you off to the public. He gets to walk next to you and say “that’s my date! They’re on a date with me!” It’s perhaps the best part of the whole day, being able to be seen right with you. Even if you’re just a passing couple, two people in the midst of a whole crowd, it’s still something to Davos. And that something tells everyone that you’re his.

#davos blackwood x reader #davos blackwood #hotd x reader #hotd season 2 #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #house of the dragon #benjicot x reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 months

Text

Otherverse

Summary: After stepping through the rift, Dean and the reader find themselves in an entirely different universe altogether. Monsters don’t exist, everyone they’ve ever lost is alive and there is some strange dynamic going on with everyone. Luckily they’ve run into themselves to help them out...

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 4,700ish

Warnings: language, mentions of sex

A/N: This fic is such a hot mess and has been hiding in my drafts for oh, five years? Time for it to see the light of day! Please enjoy!

_______________

Dean was shrugging his shoulders at you from the other side of the kitchen table. The fact his twin was setting a cup of coffee down in front of him wasn’t the strangest thing you’d ever ran into but it was certainly up there.

“So...this is fucking weird,” said the other Dean, a few less bags under his eyes than yours.

“Yeah, you’re telling us,” said your Dean, the other one nodding his head.

“Well, Y/N should be home from the store soon,” said the other Dean, chuckling when he saw you shake your head. “You can call me something else if it makes it easier for you to keep it all straight.”

“We could call him Red,” said Dean, smirking over at you.

“Oh come on,” you said, blushing as you looked at your lap. “Not in front of...”

“Red shirt of sex?” asked the other Dean, Red you figured you were going with.

“Yours does it too!” said Dean, the pair laughing to themselves. “Some things even time and space can’t contain.”

“It is a pretty lucky shirt,” said Red with a smile, grabbing your cup of coffee when the machine buzzed off. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” you said, Red taking a deep breath. “What?”

“You guys smell weird is all,” he said, both your and Dean’s heads cocking. “I’ll uh, explain once Y/N gets home. She’s better at words and crap.”

“So...” said Dean, tapping his fingers on the nice kitchen table. “Nice house.”

“Built it myself,” said Red, stretching in his seat. “Took nearly a year. Y/N has the patience of a saint. I mean, it helped I had my crew of guys working on it but still, a track home would have been much easier to go with. You don’t get character when you go that route though.”

Dean just hummed, sipping from his cup as he gave you a look. You and Dean had never once thought about building a house or living in the suburbs or anything remotely close to that. Two childhoods worth of motel rooms were what you had, the bunker your home but even that was nothing like the place you were sat in.

“Thanks again for not shooting us when we popped up in your backyard,” you said with a smile, Red nodding.

“I really didn’t want to mow the lawn today anyways,” he said, eyes drawn to the back window where the rift had been. Something screwed up though. It shut almost immediately, trapping you and Dean in this other world until you could figure out how to hitch a ride back home. “What’s your guys world like again?”

“Looks just like this,” you said.

“Except we hunt monsters,” said Dean. Red raised an eyebrow but only took a long sip of coffee. “You’re not freaking out over that?”

“The freak out moment has passed for me,” he said. “Monsters...that’s intense.”

“Yup,” you and Dean said, thankful when you heard a sound come from the next room over.

“Excuse me,” said Red, standing up quickly, returning a moment later with a baby on his hip. “Hey pup, this is me and your mom from another universe. They hunt monsters...this is so totally going to sound insane to her when she gets back.”

“He’s so cute,” you said, standing up and taking a look at him.

“They have kids,” said Dean, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys don’t?” asked Red.

“Our lives aren’t what I’d call safe,” said Dean, Red nodding his head.

“I get you,” said Red, the front door opening somewhere else in the house.

“Alpha, I’m home! Can you get the heavy stuff out of the trunk?” you heard a voice eerily similar to your own shout.

“Coming Omega,” said Red, putting the baby in your arms. “Could you watch the pup for a minute?”

“Is it just me or do these guys have some weird names for stuff?” you asked, holding the smiling baby on your hip.

“He keeps calling his kid a pup. Like a puppy?” asked Dean, his eyes wide when you heard the floor creak behind you.

“Well, he did say there was some epically weird shit happening in the kitchen,” said another you, scratching her head with her free hand.

“Hi,” you said, the other you reaching for her baby. “I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah. Me too but I’m guessing you already knew that,” she said. “Is handsome over there, Dean?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” said Dean.

“Oh, good,” she said, setting a bag on the counter. “This is completely normal.”

An hour later you were sat in the Winchester’s living room, Red and Lila, at least that was the name you’d decided on calling the other you for now, sitting down on another couch.

“Okay, so I have a question,” said Lila, Red tsking her. “We can’t smell you guys. What are you?”

“Huh?” you and Dean said, looking at one another.

“Well if you’re like us, Dean should be Alpha and Y/N Omega but you two smell flat, like nothing. It’s weird,” said Lila.

“I don’t think our dynamic exists where they come from, Omega,” said Red. Lila stared at you for a good long while before she stood up and threw her hair up in a bun, revealing a bite mark on her neck.

“This...” she said, pointing at the spot, “Is a claiming bite. Dean, er Red, gave it to me when we mated and he claimed me. You guys are saying you have none of that?”

“Dude, I know she likes a little nibble but don’t actually bite her,” said Dean, scrunching up his face at Red. “Don’t tell me you’re some kind of asshole.”

“Red’s being very patient with you right now so I’d back off,” said Lila.

“Relax,” said Red, wrapping his arms around Lila’s shoulders. “She’s getting close to heat. She gets a little protective during that time.”

“You should see this one on her period,” said Dean, pointing at you.

“Speaking of which, if we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to need to borrow some stuff,” you said, Lila glancing up at Red. “Supplies?”

“Well...we might need to run to the store for you. I think...you guys are like Beta’s right now, even if you don’t smell like it. We can get you whatever you need,” said Red, Dean cocking his head.

“Explain this dynamic thing to us again cause right now, you two sound like a basket full of crazy,” said Dean.

“Says the guy that came through an inter-dimensional rift in my backyard?” asked Lila.

“Dammit, she really is like you,” muttered Dean, Lila smiling to herself.

“It’s pretty simple. We have six genders. A male and female version of the three dynamics, Alpha, Beta and Omega. Beta’s normally pair off together, leaving the Alpha’s and Omega’s to get together,” said Red.

“Yeah but...you bit her,” said Dean.

“Things are a bit more...animalistic here,” said Red, Dean’s face scrunching up. “Come here dude.”

Red got up from the couch, waving Dean to follow. They ducked around the corner, Dean back with wide eyes about ten seconds later.

“Okay, animalistic, got it,” said Dean, staring at his lap. “You’ve got a...fuck.”

“It’s a knot,” said Lila. “A lot of mammals have them actually.”

“Oh, that’s why the baby’s a pup,” you said, Lila smiling that it was starting to make sense to you...in a way.

“It used to be different and it’s still possible for life to be very dangerous for unclaimed Omega’s but Red’s an amazing Alpha to me,” said Lila.

“The Alpha protects it’s pack members or in this case, it’s family?” you asked, Red giving you a thumbs up.

“See? You got a smart one too. It’s not that difficult. The only truly dangerous part is when you’re unmated. But even then they have stuff to hide your scent and very few Alphas are actually bad. Our world is probably safer than yours from what you’ve told us,” said Red.

“I don’t understand the biting thing though,” you said, Dean nodding beside you.

“It’s a bond,” said Lila. “A permanent one. It’s like getting married but you can’t get divorced.”

“That seems...unethical,” you said, both Red and Lila scrunching up their faces.

“If you grew up in this world, you would understand it’s completely natural and safe. We’re partners, no matter what,” said Red. “Like how she was scared when she saw you two in the kitchen but because I knew it was safe, she knew it was safe. It’s a physiological bond down to your core.”

“You love her,” said Dean.

“Yes,” said Red. “She loves me and we’re very happy.”

“We should go,” you said, Dean already on his feet.

“You guys don’t-”

“Lila,” you said with a smile. “Our problem isn’t yours. We’ll find a way back to where we belong without interfering with your lives anymore. Thank you for explaining things to us but we’ll get out of your hair. It’s safer that way.”

“You guys know where we live if you change your mind,” said Red.

“Thanks,” said Dean, spinning back around. “Where do we get those supplies again?”

“A pharmacy, big box store, anywhere really,” said Red.

“Last question...do they have pie here?” asked Dean.

“Dude, the diner on Main...best pie ever,” said Red, already licking his lips.

“We’ll be sure to check it out. Thanks again.”

You and Dean got a few strange looks around the store, Dean standing closer than normal.

“What is wrong with you? Personal space, Dean,” you said, grabbing a box of tampons and pads, tossing them in a basket along with the few other things you’d picked out. You were used to living on the road so this wasn’t that big of a deal...if only Dean would back off of you.

“I don’t know, I just want to be close,” said Dean, snatching the basket from you and quickly paying.

You were halfway down the block to the diner Red had mentioned when Dean put a hand on his forehead.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” you asked, grabbing the bag as he leaned up against the wall. “Dean.”

“Talk about a late bloomer,” said a passerbyer, your glare making him shrug. “He’s starting to present. I never heard of someone that old going through it though.”

“Go away,” you said, Dean throwing his arm over your shoulders, half walking with you as you made your way out of town and back to the Winchesters place.

“Well I didn’t expect...” said Red, scrunching up his nose. “Oh shit. Y/N! We got a problem!”

Red grabbed Dean and started to drag him upstairs, tossing him on a bed as Dean groaned.

“Y/N, you need to go to the pharmacy. I need you to get a first time Alpha pack and Rut medicine. Tell the pharmacist and they will get it for you. Understand?” said Red, shoving his wallet in your hands. “My Y/N, can you get up here please?”

“First time Alpha pack and Rut medicine,” you said, eyes wide as Lila brushed past you and into Dean’s room. “What’s wrong with him?”

“His body is taking on a dynamic. It’s puberty for us basically. I didn’t think...just go and we’ll figure the rest out later,” he said. “Get the medicine and he’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” you said, Red tossing you his car keys.

“Make it fast.”

“Here,” you said twenty minutes later, Dean shouting into a pillow when you got back, Red standing by the door.

“Dean, Y/N got your medicine so...” said Red, Dean huffing and puffing when he saw you. “Dean...”

“She’s gonna turn too isn’t she,” said Dean, clutching at the pillow before it tore in half. “What the fuck?”

“You’re getting stronger, even stronger than you were. It’s an Alpha thing. Y/N, go down the street, dark green house. My Y/N and the pup are there,” said Red.

“I want to stay with Dean,” you said, an arm instantly slapped over the doorway.

“He’s going into his first rut with no idea how to control any of this. If he’s right and you start turning too, he’s gonna claim you without even thinking about it,” said Red. “Go now.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you growled, Dean shaking his head.

“Y/N,” said Dean, wrapping his arms around himself. “Do what he said. I can’t...I’m scared I’ll hurt you. Just go someplace safe for now.”

“He is trying his best not to come over here and take you so leave, now,” said Red.

“You better take care of him,” you said, heading down the stairs.

“I’ll get him through it. Trust me,” said Red.

You jogged outside and spotted a dark green house about a quarter mile down the road, a very pretty ranch with a front porch and two expensive cars in the driveway.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Lila, opening the front door for you. “Red called, he’s going to be dealing with Dean for a while so we’re going to keep an eye on you just in case.”

“Thanks,” you said, stepping inside the warm house, smelling fresh cookies in the air.

“Prepare yourselves for the weirdness,” said Lila, trotting along ahead of you.

“Oh it can’t be that weird,” said Sam as you turned the corner, watching him try to steal a cookie off the sheet, a woman you’d only ever seen in pictures swatting his hand away. “Jess, come on.”

“Wait until they’ve cooled off,” she chided, Sam rolling his eyes as he glanced in your direction.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding with the weird,” he said, walking over with a smile. “I’m-”

“Hi Sammy,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a way too hard hug but not caring in the slightest.

“Hello other Y/N,” he teased, trying to break free, taking a breath when you finally pulled away. “You alright?”

“Yes. No,” you said, looking him up and down. “You look good, Sam. Sorry, I know you’re not...it’s just been a really hard few months.”

“Okay...” said Sam, Jess pouting beside him when she caught your face.

“Your Sam...” she said. “Oh shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, Lila sighing.

“Her Sam’s gone, Sam,” she said, Sam making an odd noise.

“I’m sorry. This is probably pretty traumatizing then,” he said.

“I’ve seen weirder,” you said. “Dean and I...like I said, it’s been hard. We’ve lost a lot of friends and family recently. But Jess is alive so that’s awesome and did you seriously buy a house down the street from your brother?”

“Uh, he’s sort of pack leader,” said Sam.

“Oldest child is normally the pack leader,” said Lila. “We have our own houses but it’s normal for the family to live close to each other. Plus these guys have a pool.”

“How you feeling, hun?” asked Jess, putting a hand on your forehead. “She’s a little warm.”

“When was your period supposed to start?” asked Lila.

“Tomorrow,” you said, all three sharing a look. “Why...”

“I think Y/N’s going to start presenting soon,” said Jess. “Sammy, go help your brother with our new Alpha. It might take two of you to keep him there.”

“Keep him there? What the hell is Red doing to Dean?” you asked.

“He’s sort of stuck in that room until his rut passes. But if he’s in rut and you’re in heat, he’ll do anything he can to get here and claim you,” said Lila. “It’s best to keep you separated for the moment.”

“Lovely.”

It was close to midnight, Lila poking her head in the room you were staying in with a cranky baby in her arms.

“How you feeling?” she asked.

“Spectacular,” you groaned, Lila taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’m changing. I can feel it. I can smell it. I can smell you and that little guy and Jess and...I can even smell Dean down the street.”

“You’re Omega,” said Lila, patting your leg. “You and Dean need to be careful not to mate. I don’t know if whatever’s happening to you will become permanent.”

“Let me ask you a question,” you said, sitting up in bed, the pup turning his head towards you.

“You’re confused, aren’t you Drew? Mommy’s got a twin apparently,” she said, Drew tilting his head and reaching for you.

“How’d you convince your Dean to have one?” you asked, the baby grabbing a piece of your hair and pulling it in his mouth.

“He’s always wanted them,” she said with a smile. “Yours doesn’t?”

“We do but we can’t, not with our lives. We work in a high fatality industry if you want to call it that,” you said. “We wouldn’t do that to them.”

“Well you’re out of a job until we can get you back,” she said, taking Drew off of you. “Take the medicine I gave you again in the morning. It’ll help.”

“Why are you guys helping us?” you asked.

“We might not kick monsters asses on the regular but we do help people out when we can,” said Lila. “Get some rest. You need it, especially during your first heat.”

Three Days Later

“Hey,” you said, following Lila into her house, Dean sitting with Red and Sam in their family room.

“Damn, you smell good,” said Dean, taking a deep breath. “They said you turned too.”

“Yeah. Nothing’s too much different,” you said, Dean nodding his head. “You?”

“Plumbing’s got a new feature,” said Red with a smirk, Lila slapping him on the arm. “He’s an Alpha. He’s got a knot now.”

“What’s that like?” you said, Dean shifting in his seat. You could feel how nervous he was, trying to cover his lap with his hands. “You think I’ll reject you.”

“What the...” said Dean, your own eyes blinking fast at saying that aloud. “How could she...”

“It’s a mate thing,” said Red. “Y/N, Sammy’s been doing some research with Jess and they have a kind of crazy idea.”

“Crazy’s in our wheelhouse,” you said, walking over to sit next to Dean, taking one of his hands in yours.

You felt warmth spread throughout you, filling you up, nostrils inhaling what had been explained to you as Dean’s scent. Only he smelled like the best thing on earth and all you wanted were his teeth sinking into your neck. Sam picked you up and pulled you over to the other couch, Dean swallowing hard as you moved away.

“No touching,” said Sam in your ear, relaxing his hold on you as you realized you’d been squirming to get free. “The research we found was odd but we’re pretty sure that your rift thing will pop back open again. It’s been four days. You guys just need to last another three and then hopefully when you go home, you go back to normal.”

“I looked it over and it’s not exactly what I’d call reliable,” said Dean, crossing his arms. “As far as I can tell, magic, monsters, it doesn’t exist here. It’s an old wives tale Sam’s reading from about what’s probably not the rift.”

“But if magic doesn’t exist here, we can’t get back home,” you said.

“I know. I guess we have to wait and see if it was true.”

Three Days Later

“I can’t believe we’re back again,” you said, glancing around at the quiet bunker, Dean sighing beside you. “What?”

“I’m never going to see Sam again,” he said. “That wasn’t Sam back in there but it was and him and everyone else is gone again. Meanwhile, it’s me and you here, scraping by, giving up everything for nothing.”

“We hunt Dean. It’s what we do,” you said, wrapping your hand around his.

“I want to have a family with you. I want to have kids and a house and we will never, ever have those things here. We’re gonna sit in this bunker, working cases until one of us dies and that’s it. I know I will do this job until the day I die but I wanted a choice dammit and we will never get one,” said Dean. “Never.”

“I think we do have a choice, Dean,” you said, glancing back over your shoulder at the rift. “But we can’t undo it once we make it.”

“Go live there?” asked Dean, nodding behind himself. “What, we gonna play house? Pretend we aren’t screwed up?”

“Beats one of us dying and the other one drinking themselves to death,” you said. “We have saved so many people Dean. The world. This family has given up everything. I don’t want to leave either but we barely have anything left to fight in this place. A monster here or there. Other hunters can handle it. All of our friends and family are in that world and they aren’t ours but think of how they treated us the past week.”

“Like we were family,” said Dean quietly, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I think our friends, our family, they’d want us to be happy again,” you said.

“Say we go back though, I’m stuck as an Alpha and you’re Omega,” said Dean.

“Even in this world, you smell amazing,” you said. “We don’t know if we’ll go back to normal.”

“I still feel like an Alpha,” said Dean, taking a deep breath. “All I want to do is be somewhere safe with you.”

“What do you want to do then?” you asked.

“I say we pack our bags.”

You were blinking furiously a few hours later, Dean panting hard as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Fuck!” you heard outside the car, your head whipping to the right to see Red dropping a hose and storming over.

“Hi Red,” you said, slipping out of the car, Red shaking his head.

“Did you bring a freaking car through your magic rift thingy? Why are you even back here? I thought we fixed it,” said Red.

“We uh,” said Dean, looking over to watch the rift close up once and for all. “We sort of moved universes.”

“Okay...” said Red, Dean climbing back in to pull the Impala around to the front of the house and in the street. “You realize saying both Y/N and I had long lost identical twins we never knew about is never going to fly, right?”

“Just say we were out of town, traveling the world,” you said. “Dean and I just wanted to stop by and say hi before we take off. We can find our own quiet corner to hide away in.”

“As pack members, you’re supposed to live close by,” said Red, crossing his arms.

“But we’re not in your pack,” you said.

“Not yet. You will be though,” said Red, kicking at the ground. “Unless you think we’re too weird for you guys with the dynamic thing.”

“I’m pretty sure Dean and I are the freaks around here,” you said, Red nodding his head.

“Well, come inside. We should go over the dynamic crap in a bit more detail now that you’ll be living it.”

“You know what,” said Dean, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck later that night. Red and Lila had taken Drew over to his parent’s house to spend the night, having their own date night and saying they’d catch up in the morning.

“What,” you sighed, running your hand up and down his back, his new scent coming off his bare back in strong waves, making you warm and calm.

“I’d like to claim you if that’s alright with you,” said Dean.

“You can,” you said, turning your head so Dean lifted his own to look at you.

“Are you sure? Brand new universe, plenty of Alphas in the sea,” he teased.

“I want this one,” you said, putting a hand on his chest. “Red explained it to you?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s pretty much sex up until the claiming part and instinct will take over,” said Dean. “If you’re ready for that.”

“I’m ready for it. Alpha,” you said, Dean taking a deep breath. “Why doesn’t that sound as corny as it did a week ago?”

“I don’t know, Omega,” said Dean, a smile spreading across your face. “But it damn sure feels right.”

“Oh,” you said, a blush on your cheeks at the sudden wetness between your legs. “Lila mentioned that might happen.”

“Get out of those underwear, Omega. We’re doing this.”

Two Months Later

“You didn’t tell me your Dean was a handyman,” said Lila, sitting on a lawn chair, watching Drew play on his mat in the grass as the boys walked around the freshly dried foundation of your new house.

“He’s good at a lot of things. He knows more about cars than houses but he’ll put in as much manual labor as he can,” you said, Drew crawling over to tug on your leg. “It’s Aunt Y/N, handsome. Here’s your mommy.”

“I think the twins want you,” said Lila, laughing as Dean and Red cocked their heads over at you. At a quick glance, most people assumed they were twins but it was easy for you to spot the differences. Red wasn’t quite as bowlegged and had no tattoo on his chest. Dean had more freckles and his shoulders looked broader, at least to you.

“Boys,” you said, Dean walking on the subfloor to somewhere around the middle of the house. “Yes?”

“We have a disagreement on the layout,” said Red. “Dean wants a little library room which is cool and Lila will be super jealous that I didn’t think of one for her but why’s it got to go in the middle? Wouldn’t you prefer it to be on the edge of the house with a window seat? Or a nice big cubby to put a day bed in?”

“Library, huh?” you asked, Dean smirking to himself. “Make it a large hall way, double sided bookcases on each side, maybe some big comfy chairs in the middle, a coffee table. It’s more of a pass through that way and you’ll still get the light from the back windows.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” said Red. “Any other tidbits of wisdom you want to spout off?”

“Make it feel like home,” you said, Dean smiling.

“We will. We definitely will.”

_____________

366 notes · View notes

johnpriceslamb · 9 months

Note

hi there! i really liked your arthur with a feminine gf fic and id love to see more like that! could i maybe request a fic with a cute girly reader who is a friend of mary-beths and when mary-beth brings her to camp she spots arthur and literally goes heart eyes for him🥺 maybe whenever shes visiting camp arthur always finds an excuse to go over and talk to them just so he can see her aww! and its so obvious to everyone in camp and they all tease them over how sweet on each other they are🥰

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

꒰ Arthur Morgan has his eyes on a certain hyper-feminine doll .꒱

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! Mary-Beth being a giant tease and a flirt to reader . hyper-feminine! reader . fem! reader . many pet names in use . awkward-written ending . quick luv stori . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below . reader has a dada and a mama . 2.3k words

the sounds of pearl tipped necklaces rattling together and ribbon-laced dresses ruffled in the precious spring breeze, paired with soft giggles and a nervous coo.

A stifled babble escapes her lips,

“Am I um.. even allowed to be here?” [name] meekly stammers. She holds onto her friends hand, her floral patterned dress was hitched slightly over her knees with her other hand, in reluctancy in which; to get her newly bought dress dirty from the ground they treaded upon.

She’s heard of people trespassing their gangs property, and much to her dismay— she may end up as dead as roadkill. A small shiver goes down [name]’s spine at the thought of that.

Mary-Beth had been wanting to show her a couple of her new books she’s bought in st. Denis— thus the excitement pouring from her aura as she drags her across the Van Der Linde’s property.

“Don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head off. I’ll just tell em’ yer with me. What could possibly go wrong?” She pats her shoulder with a reassuring smile. A slight grimace etched amongst [name]’s face as her bow-tipped shoe is coated with a bit of mud when she took another quiet step.

[name] doesn’t look convinced at all. The grip on her hand grows a bit tighter which signified her nerves playing in. Mary-Beth always teased her for being such a worry-wart.

“..Um, well, a lot actually.” [name] prattles on.

Mary-Beth rolls her eyes.

“Hush, now.”

She does what she’s told. To shut up in a non sugar-coated manner. The aroma of many boiled meat and vegetables in a pot comes hitting her nose as soon as she enters the area. She can’t help the little nose crunch as the smell hits too abruptly for her to even know. She’s about to question Mary-beth what that smell was—

“Ah! Mr. Pearson’s cooking again.”

[name] doesn’t know wether to ask her whom this Pearson guy was, or to stay quiet. She chooses the latter. A slight tilt to her head as her ribbon-tipped hair slightly falls down her shoulder out of habit when she’s confused.

This camp was interesting, she thought. [name] could only hope that there aren’t much people. She shyly hide behind Mary-Beth’s figure as they treaded closer to her spot in camp.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Unfortunately for [name], there was a certain amount of people that made her feel uncomfortable. She resists the urge to complain, biting her tongue to keep the words in. However, there were a few she’s met that she can’t help but admire. Karen and Tilly, their names were. Sweet girls they were, she deemed.

She sat upon a small patch of grass, her hands fiddling with a few strands of the everlasting green out of boredom, listening to Mary’s voice as she spoke.

In Mary-Beth’s hand adorns a romance-genre book, she’s reading the lines out loud. [name]’s cheeks become a darker hue at a certain line she verbally says— resulting to the both of them quietly giddily giggling.

“I cannot believe he’d actually do that to her,” Mary-beth comments as she fawns over the characters. [name] eagerly crawls towards her, re-reading the line she’s just read out.

“I thought he liked Sarah though?” [name] squeaked.

“Same!” Mary was far too happy to be able to share her love for books with another. She ends herself with a soft sigh, “I reckon he’ll leave her in a span of a click.”

“Mary?”

“Mhm?”

“Who.. Who’s that?”

This gets the girls attention. She quirks a brow, looking at the direction of [name]’s lithe finger. It’s not easy to hold back a smirk curling onto her lips.

“You pointin’ to that cowpoke over there?” Mary grins.

[name]’s doe eyes were practically planted with hearts, and she’s stammering like a tiny lamb, “I—I um.. uh.. I was just..”

“He was just starin’ at me, so I um.. nevermind—”

She cuts her off, “—His names Arthur,” Mary teases the sweetheart, “Lookit chu’!”

[name] could only shrink, “I.. shut up would you?”

“Whenever you swear it’s like looking at a yapping puppy.”

[name] fully turns around, the back of her head facing the burly cowpoke whom curiously stares at the pair of girls from afar.

“‘shut up’ is not a swear word, Mary-Beth!”

“Is so!” Mary-Beth argues back. She doesn’t mention the fact that Arthur’s slowly creeping up from behind.

“Shut up doesn’t have any implications of vulgar words now does it?” She puffs out her cheeks. Mary-beth can’t suppress the small smirk planted on her freckled face. The man stalks towards them closer, in a lazy manner.

“It so does! It’s considered rude and disrespectful— which is quite literally the definition of a curse word.” Closer.

“Mhm, even so it all really depends on context—” Closer.

“—Now how ‘bout you just caaalm down, sweetheart?” She drags the ‘a’ in calm to further on annoy her. Mary-Beth teases the dolled-up sweetheart, playing with her ribbons by twirling it around her finger.

[name] broods, huffing as she quiets down and crosses her arms like an itty-bitty brat. Goodness was she cute! Mary giggles.

Suddenly, the freckled-face darling stands up from her spot, eliciting a tiny ‘where you going?’ from [name].

“Just gonna get another book! I’ll be back in a second.” She cheekily trots away.

[name] could only tilt her head at her unusual behaviour.

Only for her to freeze up immediately at a quiet rumble of a man’s voice from behind—

“Mary-Beth’s been botherin’ you, I assume?”

[name] shyly turns her head around— wispy lashes fluttering as she stands up awkwardly to match his height— barely even. A whole foot taller than she was.

She fiddles with her fingers, before quietly nodding. It’s obvious to Arthur that she was a shy little thing. So with that information, he’s gentle in his approach, his tone is more softer.

“Got a name, little missy?” He asks. Oh, his voice.

“[name],” she shyly babbles. He was certainly NOT bad looking. She’s so, so so shy. “And you are..?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

Despite already knowing his name, she can’t help but admire how his southern drawl drags.

“‘s nice to meet you, mister Morgan,” She meekly says.

“Just Arthur.”

“Oh- sorry.” She stammers.

Arthur can’t help the lazy grin on his face.

“No need to be sorry,” He hums. “Mary-Beth’s friend?”

“Best friend,” She corrects him with a tiny smile.

“Ah.” Despite the silence that continued on, it was somehow comforting around them. Guess his dim tone and sweet intentions made her feel like a comforted little bunny snuggled inside a warm burberry blanket.

Arthur’s eyes size her up and down. He doesn’t comment her shyness, rather her appearance. It was like looking at a live porcelain doll.

He can’t help but question, “You from Saint Denis, lil’ - missy?”

That pet name makes her shy.

“Mhm,” She fully looks at him. She has to tilt her head just to look at him. Her hands were behind her back, and she rocks on her platforms.

“Mm.. Figured.”

“Oh? How so?” She curiously quirks a brow.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You look like a right tulip, missy.”

[name] almost lets out a soft giggle at his teasing. Her cheeks feel warmer, as do her nose and the tip of her dainty ears. A tulip?

“It’s the attire, is it not?” [name] leans back on the souls of her black bow platforms, tinkering those wispy lashes at him.

Gosh, what he’d do to just.. kiss those squishy cheeks of hers.

“Mhm. ‘S all frilly and.. so..” Arthur trails on. He mindlessly fiddles with the folded gossamer lines attached to her light pink dress. She allows him to, can’t help but also allow his scent to invade her nose— smoke and.. gunpowder. A large cry from her sweet vanilla scented perfume sprayed on her neck.

They’re both cut off by Mary-Beth strolling in with her other books. That cheeky, little smile she sent to Arthur makes a vein pop in [name]’s head, realising why she left so quickly.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

It was her second time visiting the camp-site.

From her previous experience, she figured that it wasn’t all that bad.. just ignore some folks.

[name] adorns a pink puff-sleeved ruffled dress with a simple pearl necklace— a bit similar to her previous outfit. From her giddy stance, it looked like she was waiting for Arthur, and not Mary-Beth.

Her smile even becomes brighter when she sees him nearby. And quite frankly, Mary-Beth has had enough of being answered with silence and shy eye-contact from afar. It was cute, yes, but it was becoming frustrating to bear.

“—And Johnathan allows her to wear his deceased wife’s ring! How absurd.” Mary-Beth squints her eyes at her response.

“Mhm,” [name] mindlessly hums, staring at Arthur.

“…He also ate a raw fish.” She tests.

“Mmm.”

“..He’s tap dancing.”

“That’s nice.”

She groans, poking the girl, “Are you even listening to what I’m saying right now?”

“Uhuh.” [name] unconsciously fiddles with the ends of her dress. She’s still staring at his direction. Doe eyes expand abnormally larger at the sight.

The girl in front of her droops. But pipes up again to get her attention.

“Arthur really likes flowers.”

That gets her attention. [name] immediately whips her pixie-sized head towards her with a tiny ‘ooh?’ Just the mere mention of his name makes her tummy flutter and giddy.

“You’re a real sucker for him ain’t ya?” Mary coos and giggles, nudging her small arm.

[name] shyly shrugs, “H—He’s nice m’kay? I can’t help it, I like nice guys..”

“To you,” She continues, “To you, he’s nice. To others he’s an absolute.. menace.”

“I’m thinking.. He has a real soft spot for ya,” She winks.

[name] could only scoff, “We’ve only met once, ‘Bethy.”

“He’s a real sucker for them frills and bows. He sees a pretty girl like you and he’s all lamb-like. Stumbly on the legs and stuttery on the mouth.” Mary teases, “And your one pretty girl, [name].”

“You think I’m pretty?” [name] sweetly swoons at her words.

“Darling, you’re quite literally the cutest girl i’ve ever met!”

“Marryyy…” [name] softly whines at her constant fawning, “You’re very pretty too, y’know.”

“Huuush,” Mary-Beth giggles and smooches her cheek. Sweet girls.

Suddenly, that cheeky little grin comes crawling onto her face. [name] tilts her head, weary and meek. She’s up to something.

“..Wh..what?”

“Your boyfriend’s behind you.”

“Boyfriend??? Now, what in the world are you—” [name] suddenly becomes quiet as she turns her head around and makes eye contact with Arthur. He gives a shy smile to both of the ladies, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I’ll leave you two be~” Mary-Beth stands up and cheekily skips away.

Silence surrounded the two.

“Hi, Arthur.” It was like looking at two teenagers in a puppy love.

“Hello, [name].”

Her heart speeds up. She shyly looks down at the ground, unsure of what to say. Despite this being their second time interacting, she can’t help the meekness flooding in her system.

“I’m startin’ to wonder if yer clothes are strictly pink-only.” He gestures to her short little dress.

She giggles softly, “I do have a few non-pink clothing y’know.” [name] is comfortable enough to peer at him through those damn wispy lashes. Puckered lips, cherubic-like cheeks, and those puppy eyes.

“I wouldn’t believe that,” He lets out a bent arm towards her for her to take gently and stand up. [name] does so, standing to her full height with her pixie-like hands holding onto his arm like an elderly couple.

“Mind a stroll?” He asks with a gentle, soft tone.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” She pipes up.

And there they went off.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[name] was getting ready.

This time, she wasn’t there to visit Mary-Beth. She was here to visit Arthur.

More so because of his request of her to come back soon. If she were to be a puppy, her tail would be wagging as quickly as the speed of light. She was giddy at his request.

This was… the umpteenth time they’ve interacted with each other. Quite literally, everyone knew they’d get together sooner or later.

She adorns a white, cotton-like ruffled dress with a simple heart shaped necklace. On her head, she wore a pretty little bonnet.

As she approaches the location, she can’t help the sweet smile on her face as she sees Arthur coming towards her direction again. His hair was simple— a bit neater than before and his usual black vest outfit, with no grime or dirt anywhere.

“Hi,” She waves giddily.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He allows her tiny hands to come and place themselves near his bicep. He bends his elbow a bit near his figure to allow her come closer to his stature. He makes a mental note to be more careful around her. The bonnet on her head catches his attention.

He murmurs a soft ‘cute..’ underneath his breath, as he leads her away to take a little stroll around a pretty little meadow.

“How was your day, hm?” He asks.

“Good,” She shyly replies, “Daddy’s doing okay now. He’s not as sick as he was a week ago.” His heart softens.

“Ah. That’s good.”

“How about you? How was your day?” She asks with a glimmer in her eyes.

“Decent at best.” He replies with a slight grunt, gently pushing her away from a small puddle he can see that’s formed on the ground. Doesn’t want her shoes to get messed up from the dew-dropped floor. He’s genuinely thinking of just picking her up.

“How’s yer ma and yer pa doing?”

“Good and good,” She happily smiles, very happy that he’s asking about her family. Her doe eyes light up at a pretty pink wild flower, a smirk etched on Arthur’s face as he sees that cute little expression of hers.

A soft ‘huh.’ escapes his lips, he stops suddenly. Arthur’s blue eyes sizes her up and down, only realising just now—“You’re not wearing pink.”

[name] looks up at him, itty-bitty smile, “Told you I don’t have just pink coloured clothing.”

He snorts at her answer, “Damn brat, you are.”

“Your brat.”

“Yeah. My brat.”

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leewritestoomuch · 6 months

Text

Neji x Reader: Take a Risk

Modern AU! With a fem reader

WARNING: NSFW, P in V, Oral (fem receiving), doing it while others are in the house

Might be the greatest thing I’ve ever written tbh.

A movie night where the wrong person gets to choose the movie this round can cause for a fairly boring night. Why you all allowed Sai to choose the movie, you’ll never know. He doesn’t know the first thing about good movies. He’s seen like 7 or 8 movies, and those are mostly the movies you all watch during “Konoha 13 Movie Nights”, as you call them.

So as some boring artsy movie plays on the tv, you lay back on the couch, blanket stretched over you, your boyfriend Neji, and Lee, which has been causing fights since Lee can’t sit still. Tenten sits on the floor in front of you all, turning back to talk. Luckily, Sai doesn’t mind the talking as long as he can hear the boring, practically poetry leaving the characters mouths on screen.

As everybody starts to get tired, however, you feel Neji’s hand on your thigh. It doesn’t move up or down, just rests there on your skin. He stays still as slowly everybody falls asleep or decides to head home. Being that it was your house where you hosted the movie night, you waited, and offered to let people stay over, and when you did you felt Neji’s hand squeeze your thigh.

Oh.

Lee falls asleep on Neji’s shoulder, eliciting a groan from Neji, before he looks over at you with a pleading look. He wants you to get everybody home. You think for a moment, but shake your head.

“They’re too tired to walk all the way home. I think it’s better if they stay.” You whisper, looking around at most of the group still being here and asleep somewhere in the living space.

“Y/N.” He says simply, hand spreading out across your thigh as he does. And you know what he’s trying to say, but you can’t just ditch everybody and throw them out on the street for a good time, so you shake your head softly. And seeing as Neji isn’t the daring type, he won’t pull you back to another room and make you stay silent while he gets what he wants. No, he’ll wait until tomorrow if this is what you want.

He lets out a soft sigh, nodding as he sits back against the couch again, shoving Lee off finally. Lee doesn’t wake up as he falls to the other side of the couch. He doesn’t even wake when Sakura, the lap he landed in, shoves him down to the ground, but Tenten wakes when he falls on her.

“Ah, what the— Lee?” She shoves him off, shaking her head. Somehow, he’s still sound asleep on the ground beside her now. She shrugs and rolls over. You can’t help but laugh, and when you laugh you finally hear Neji chuckle.

“See? Couldn’t wake him if we tried.” You mutter, shaking your head.

Shikamaru was asleep on the floor a few feet away. Sasuke had gone home a while ago, dragging Naruto away with him. Sakura was still watching the movie with Sai, some part of her feeling bad if she left him. Ino had tried to drag off Shikamaru and Choji with her when she left, but Shikamaru wouldn’t budge and Choji didn’t want to leave him.

Shino, Kiba, Akamaru, and Hinata had all gone to their homes a while ago, being the firsts to leave. Which left about half of you still in your living room.

“I’m gonna go use the restroom, I’ll be back.” You whisper, excusing yourself and prying yourself out of your boyfriend’s arms. Neji nods as you walk away, sinking back into the couch.

However, you hear a soft knock on the bathroom door after you’re done washing your hands. Wondering who must have woke up, you open the door to leave the restroom, only to find your boyfriend standing there. Neji slips in, shutting and locking the door behind him and hoists you up on the counter.

“What? What are you doing?” You ask, looking into his white eyes. In this lighting, you can’t help but simply think about how pretty those eyes are on him. The soft light coming just from a little night light plugged into an outlet lit his face up just enough that the soft glow softened his features. He looked nearly ethereal like this.

That doesn’t shake your confusion, seeing as your boyfriend has never been the type to take a risk. There are people mere meters away in the living room, and you can’t figure out what he’s doing. It’s too unlike him, but could he have been this desperate to shake everybody else off tonight?

You hadn’t provoked him, but maybe he didn’t need that. And in fact, you simply breathing and being near him was enough to provoke him. His hand on your thigh was a form of pleading for this kind of attention. The attention he draws out of you now, taking your lips with his. Your lips move together in a gentle, yet feverish way. The pace is somewhere between pure desperation and his usual composure, as if his composure was a bar he was desperately clinging to but slipping.

He hooks his hands underneath your thighs, pulling you close until you could feel how hard he was. Between heated kisses, he whispers lowly and breathily, “you did this to me.”

You wanted to ask when, but he left you no time to get words in as he pushed his tongue past your lips, desperate for a taste now. And now you could not only feel his desperation, you could taste it. His hands tug gently at your hair, and your hands move to remove the hair tie from his, letting it fall on his shoulders. When you two finally separate for a moment, a string of saliva connects you both before breaking as you lean back to look at him.

“You look so good with your hair down.” You whisper, the comment earning a small chuckle from him.

“I could never look as good as you.” He whispers back, eyes locked on yours in a moment of intense intimacy. Before you have time to argue, he forces you to instead gasp as he kisses and nibbles at your neck now. Going for your weak spot to shut you up was a dirty move, but you can’t be mad. How could you when you’re just fighting moans now?

You have to stay silent, but his teeth grazing your most sensitive part of your neck now. He’d found the sweet spot, and you were clutching onto his shirt to cling to your sanity. His mouth moves lower on your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone. And now you find yourself getting a little fed up. Wetness is pooling between your legs, causing an ache that this just wasn’t helping.

You whine at him, pushing him back by the shoulders. “Neji, please.”

“‘Please’ what?” He whispers, hands rubbing up and down your thighs, inching closer to where your shorts, which have rode up your thighs, come to an end.

“Can we move to my bedroom?” You ask softly. “Then I’ll explain what I want.”

So he carries you there, careful to not wake anybody else in the house. He shuts and locks your bedroom door quietly before moving over and laying you down on the bed. Without you having to ask, he starts to remove your shirt, then his. Then his own pants before hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts and looking at you for one final nod of permission.

When you give him that permission, he discards your shorts and underwear. Lastly, he pulls off his boxers. You wait, feeling exposed as the cold air of your bedroom engulfs your body. He finally climbs back over you.

“That’s better.” He whispers before teasing your folds by running two fingers along the slit for a few seconds. He makes eye contact with you before he plunges those two fingers in. “Gotta make sure you’re ready.”

You shut your mouth, hard, as he curls his fingers in the perfect spot. A spot he’s memorized by now in order to watch you fall apart as quickly, or as slowly, as he wants. He kisses your lips one more time before slipping down, positioning himself between your thighs. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking gently as he fingers speed up a little.

His free hand runs up and down your body, tracing along your curves. The hand moves up to unclip your bra, letting you shake it off for him so he can palm at your breasts. He keeps looking up at you, holding eye contact you’ll let him. And soon, your eyes lock with his as a heat pools in your stomach, tightening as you force yourself to not squirm away from him. His hand comes down to grip your hip to help keep you in place as he forces you to endure an intense orgasm.

Your legs shake as your hips spasm, back arching slightly as sucks and licks at your clit like it’s his first meal in a week. Your hand is clamped over your mouth, pressing down any noise that threatens to come out. And him keeping eye contact with you anytime your eyes drift back to him is not helping you.

When he finally pulls himself up to kiss you again, he lines himself up with your entrance too.

“Do you need a minute or…?” He asks softly, hands running through your hand now. You think for a moment, breathing heavily, before you finally shake your head. He nods as he pushes the tip against your slit, making eye contact with you as he finally decides to push in. He slowly inches in as your soaking wet pussy accepts every inch, or rather takes it greedily.

Finally, he bottoms out, tip kissing the deepest parts of you. Before him, you never thought it’d be possible. However, with his length, it’s easy to stuff you full of cock.

“Please move.” You whisper, pushing his hair out of his face. He nods, his expression showing he’s been waiting for this all night. He pulls his hips back, shoving himself back in with a snap as a wet, lewd “shlick” sound fills the quiet room. You hope with all you’ve got that nobody is awake or it’s not loud enough to be heard, because both of you have lost the will to care about resisting this. The pleasure was too tempting.

He snaps his hips against yours in a fast rhythm, hands running desperately across your body as he pants and chokes down moans. You’d never tell another person, but Neji has a hard time being silent. He knows this, yet he dares to take you when he can’t make a sound, which is so unlike him. You can’t help but find the uncharacteristically horny, risqué move hot.

He has enough girth to slide with a delicious friction against your g-spot. When that feeling starts to build from just that, he moves his hand between your bodies, rubbing small circles on your clit. Your breath hitches as you slam your hand over your mouth, desperate to stay quiet.

Your legs shake, no, your whole body shakes as you reach your high. Your tight walls clench around his pretty cock as he groans, pulling out and coming on your chest and stomach. As he came, a moan finally slips and his eyes go wide. You smile up at him as he falls down to lay beside you.

“Aren’t you gonna clean this up?” You ask, pointing at your sticky abdomen. He heaves out a breath before nodding and moving to grab and wet a towel to clean you off.

Thank y’all for reading.

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charliemwrites · 7 months

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Introducing: Rook “Duke” Alistair

(Just a little character intro before she makes a proper appearance in the SpecGru fic)

It’s 2am.

It’s 2am and Kate’s phone is buzzing. A rapid, violent bzzt-bzzt-bzzzzzzt pattern that shakes the few other items on the nightstand. Incessant. Important.

She plucks it off the charger already wide awake, propped on one elbow to block some of the screen light from reaching the other side of the bed.

“Laswell,” she answers, hushed.

The voice on the other end is not. “Gooood mornin’, boss.”

“It’s 2am, Duke.”

“It’s 2:17 to be precise.”

Kate doesn’t bother to check the clock. “You're calling for a good reason, I assume.”

“Of course!” In the background, there’s a computerized ding. Then the clacking of a keyboard. Duke continues, still bright as birdsong, “I have a lead on that terrorist cell. Not - hold on - Nelson, put my slushee back in there I’ll get it in a damn minute! Anyway, not the one with the ugly flag. The one with the dumb name.”

Nelson, Kate thinks vaguely, is going to get mysteriously transferred if he doesn’t stop messing with a certain tech’s frozen treats. This is the third time this week.

“The Gun Fathers?” she offers.

“Haha, yeah them!” More clicking. A thump and a yelp in the background. “They’re planning on taking some exchange students hostage in Russia.”

Kate’s slips out of bed, phone held in place with her shoulder. Sighs a little wistfully at her wife’s sleeping form, but duty calls. She’ll make this up to her - dinner at that nice tapas place, maybe. Duke can get them a reservation.

“What students?”

“Working on the individual files now, but it looks like a fun mix. Some Australians, some Brits, a bunch of US citizens… ooh, someone from France, that’s rough.”

Hell, that’s a lot of governments to coordinate with.

“Where?” Kate asks, tugging her socks on.

“Looks like they’re going to grab them from a hotel in the Caucuses. Caucuses? Cauc-ussies? Cucksies?”

She pauses to drop a gentle kiss to her wife’s cheek, then pads out of their bedroom. The house is dark, cool. She navigates without light, stepping into her shoes.

“How many?”

The cats stretch as she passes through the living room, snatching her shoulder holster out of the hall closet.

“16 students total, not sure how many terrorists. Aw, is Chauncey awake? Give him a smooch for me! These dummies usually go for a ratio of three innocents to one dummy though. Ugh it’s not a round number.”

More clacking. The sound of a plastic rapper through the earpiece. Duke’s broken out the candies then.

“What else have you got for me?”

“It looks like we’ve got about 35 hours until they move in. But! We confiscated their new supply of guns during that border raid soooooo—” she clicks her tongue, the typing sounds get much louder and faster for a moment. “They should be… pretty… low… on… ammo…”

A pause Duke seems to focus on something. Kate takes the opportunity to finish’s dressing, keys in her hand. She pats Chauncey and Augustus as she passes them.

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” she says.

A hum. “Eleven, actually. I have the traffic system pulled up.”

Of course she does. Laswell would tell her to stop doing that if she thought it would do any good.

“I’m sending a bunch of files your way,” Duke adds. “Drive safe and give Chauncey that damn smooch!”

The phone beeps as the call disconnects. When Kate looks at her phone screen, she’s got a small library of information waiting for her. Names, locations, pictures and security feeds - and a note promising more on the way.

Masterlist

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #rook ‘Duke’ Alistair #my oc #cod oc

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forest-hashira · 5 days

Text

Naked in Osaka

hi friends! this is my submission for @pixelcafe-network's "challenge friday" that they do every other week! the prompt this week was a random song selected by shuffle, and my assigned song was "Naked In Manhattan" by Chappell Roan, and after a bit of debate (& some help from friends), i decided to go with shoko for this fic. it's a quick thing, but it was fun! i hope to write more for female characters in the future, and this was a good jumping off point 💜

read on ao3 | wc: ~2.6k | cw: gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, but implied fem reader based on song lyrics), alcohol consumption, making out, implied smut at the end (kinda?), implied first sapphic experience (thus the pride divider), shoko calls reader "cute", minor background stsg

“Please leave your message after the tone.” Beep.

“Hey Sho, I know you just landed, and I know you're probably busy, but I would love to see you, so call me when you can.”

You sighed softly to yourself as you ended the call, tucking your cellphone into your pocket. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that you’d gotten Shoko’s voicemail – she’d been out of the country on a trip and had only just gotten back – but it was still a bit of a disappointment. You hadn’t been able to see her much since you’d graduated from Jujutsu High together, since you’d moved to Osaka just a few weeks later. She was good about returning your calls and texts, so you tried not to think about it too much.

Despite how infrequently you got to see your friend in person, she never really left your thoughts. In fact, you probably thought about her more than was normal. The two of you had been pretty close in school, spending a lot of your time together, especially when Gojo and Geto were off on missions or otherwise wrapped up in each other. You’d been friends with the boys too, of course, but your one on one time with Shoko was where you formed all your best memories of your school years. Around third year was when you realized your fondness for the other girl may have been more than just platonic, but you never allowed yourself to dwell on it or bring it up to Shoko, telling yourself it was no different than the way the boys felt or acted around each other, so there couldn’t be anything weird about it.

Then again, the boys had gone on to start dating after graduation, and last you’d heard they’d gotten engaged, so… Maybe it was worth revisiting those feelings again.

The sound of your phone ringing pulled you out of your thoughts, and when you saw Shoko’s contact picture – a slightly blurry selfie she’d sent you nearly a year ago while she was out getting drinks with her friends in Tokyo, her cheeks a little flushed and a soft smile tugging at her lips – on the screen, you felt your cheeks begin to burn, as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Shoko asked, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your conversations with her never really seemed to stop or start; instead, it was more like you’d been having one long conversation with her from the day you’d met.

“Nothing,” you told her, idly beginning to pace your room. “What’s up?”

“Figured I’d come see you if you were free. That okay?”

You bit your lip for a moment, suddenly feeling very flustered. “I-I, uh… Yeah! Yeah, that’s fine. That sounds great, actually.” It was obvious even to you that you were stumbling over your words, and you cringed slightly at how weird you sounded.

Shoko only chuckled quietly at you. “Careful,” she teased, “if you act too excited you might give me a bigger head than Gojo.”

That made you laugh. “As if that could ever happen.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, her words airy with laughter. “Does that udon place down the street from you still do carryout?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.”

“Cool. I’ll cover dinner if you’ll cover drinks.”

“Wine or sake?”

“Surprise me.”

She hung up without saying goodbye, though that wasn’t unusual. You glanced at the time, and though you knew you had a few hours before she’d be there even if she’d already been on the train when she called you, you already felt like you were running out of time for all the things you needed to do before she arrived.

After a few moments of internal scrambling, you figured out a rough order of operations: popping into the liquor store to grab Shoko’s favorite wine, then a mad dash to make your apartment presentable, then finally a shower before she arrived. The trip to the store didn’t take very long, and you tucked the two bottles of wine you’d grabbed into your freezer to chill while you cleaned and got ready.

Thankfully, your apartment wasn’t as much of a mess as you’d convinced yourself it was, so cleaning it didn’t take long at all, and you were able to hop in the shower within an hour of getting off the phone. The last thing you wanted was to smell when you saw your friend for the first time in over a year, and you knew you were sweating from nerves. It was ridiculous to be nervous about seeing her, you knew that, but this time felt different, somehow. Maybe it was because you’d been wondering earlier that day if you really did have feelings for Shoko.

Whatever the reason was, you were desperate not to smell like nervous sweats.

After thoroughly scrubbing yourself with your best-smelling body wash, you hurried to your bedroom to get dressed. Overwhelmed with options, you threw on some underwear and paced your room, feeling like a nervous teenager.

It’s just Shoko, you reminded yourself, sitting down on your rug. She’s not gonna care what you’re wearing as long as you’re wearing something. A soft groan escaped you then, and you flopped onto your back and covered your face with your hands.

Your pity party came to an abrupt end when your phone chimed. Pushing yourself up just enough to grab it from your bed, you saw a text from Shoko, letting you know her train was about to arrive, and that she’d be at your apartment in half an hour at most.

The message made your heart flip in your chest. How long have I been laying here? How long was I in the shower?? Instead of letting her in on your internal panic, you shot back a simple “see you soon!” text, then leapt up from the floor, scrambling to find clothes that were comfortable but also somewhat presentable. Eventually you settled on a pair of pajama shorts and a loose t-shirt, then stepped into the bathroom to make sure your hair wasn’t a complete disaster.

You’d only just finished putting your hair out of your face in a way you were satisfied with when you heard a knock at the door. Heart skipping a beat again, you took a deep breath to steady yourself, then hurried to answer the door.

Shoko stood there with a small smile on her face, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder and the takeout in her other hand. “Long time no see,” she greeted, stepping inside as you moved aside. “Is it cool if I go change real quick?” She set the takeout on your table as she spoke, then turned to you and arched a brow slightly.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get the drinks out and everything while you do that.”

Her smile widened the tiniest bit. “Perfect.”

She made her way to your bathroom with her overnight bag, and as she shut the door, you pulled a bottle of wine from the freezer and two glasses from the cabinet. They weren’t fancy, and they didn’t match, but you told yourself it was better than drinking out of plastic cups.

Once the glasses were out, you opened the bottle, pouring a fair amount into each of the glasses, though one had a bit more; Shoko’s tolerance had always been a bit higher than yours, so you were sure she would want to drink more than you did to make sure you had the same buzz.

You had just started pulling the takeout from the bag when Shoko came back from getting changed, and your heart fluttered a bit when you saw her. She wore a tank top with a big picture of Gudetama in the middle and a pair of yellow shorts to match. It reminded you of the pajama sets Gojo had gotten everyone when you were in high school – Cinnamoroll for himself, Kuromi for Geto, Badtz-Maru for Shoko, and Keroppi for you – though you knew it wasn’t the same set from back then, since she wore a different character now.

“You’re staring,” Shoko teased, bumping you lightly with her hip once she was standing beside you. “Do I really look that hot in my pajamas?”

Though her words left you feeling more than a little flustered, you just scoffed at her and rolled your eyes. “They remind me of the ones Gojo got us when we were in school, that’s all.”

“He got me these ones, too,” she said with a small chuckle. “They were for my birthday last year.”

“Why’d he pick a different character than the one he picked when we were in school?”

“He said the penguin reminds him too much of Megumi now,” she said with a shrug, and you both laughed. You could see the resemblance too, though; both had the spiky black hair and the deadpan expression, and imagining Gojo telling the boy that nearly made you die laughing all over again, but you kept it to yourself for the moment.

Just as comfortable in your home as she was in her own, Shoko opened a few of your kitchen drawers, grabbing soup spoons and chopsticks for the both of you. “We should watch a movie while we eat.”

“What do you want to watch?” you asked curiously, carrying the takeout to your living room and setting it on your coffee table.

“What was that American movie we watched all the time in school?” she asked, following after you with the utensils and wine. “It was about those high school girls who wore pink.”

“Mean Girls?”

“Yeah, Mean Girls!” she grinned, setting everything down before sitting on the floor, gesturing for you to join her. “God, I don’t know how we never got sick of that movie.”

“Because Regina George was hot,” you replied without thinking about it.

The words drew a laugh from her, and she bumped you with her shoulder. “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

A small, relieved chuckle left you at her teasing words. “I’m sure we could stream it somewhere if you wanna watch it again.”

“Please, I could use a good throwback.” She took a long sip from her glass, then opened the lid on her bowl of udon.

With a nod, you grabbed the remote for your TV, sipping from your own glass as you flipped through various streaming services looking for the movie. Eventually you found it, not even caring that you had to pay to watch it; it was worth it to have a night in with your friend, especially when you knew it would make her laugh and smile more.

Once the movie had started, you finally got into your own food. You smiled when you saw that Shoko had gotten your order perfect without even asking. She’d memorized it in school, but it made butterflies flutter in your stomach a bit to know that she’d never forgotten it, even after so much time apart.

For the most part it was quiet as you watched the movie, only the soft sounds of occasional slurping and the faint clinging noise of glass on glass when Shoko topped up your wine glasses. Every once in a while, one of you would make a small comment or joke, or you’d quote the lines along with the movie before bursting out laughing. It felt like being back in school, huddled in one of your dorm beds, sharing drinks from a flask shoko had managed to sneak on campus.

At some point, you set your glass down after finishing the contents. It had been your second glass – or maybe your second? Shoko had topped you up enough times that it was hard to be sure – and was enough to have everything feeling a little fuzzy around the edges. Leaning back against your couch, you turned your head towards the other woman, smiling to yourself as you watched her, rather than the movie.

She’s so pretty… even prettier than when we were in school. When did she get so pretty?

“I’ve always been this pretty.”

Shoko’s words startled you a bit, and though it took your brain a moment to catch up, you realized she was responding to your thoughts. Only… you must have said all of them out loud, rather than just in your head. The realization had your face burning with embarrassment. “Oh my god, Sho, I—”

“It’s okay,” she assured you with a smile. She settled into the same position as you, turning to face you a bit. “‘M glad you think I’m pretty. Always thought you were cute, too.”

The whole world came to a screeching halt around you. “…You did?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her words weren’t slurred, but you could see that her movements were loosened a bit from the wine. “Thought you knew that.”

“No, I… How would I have known? You never said anything.”

“I saw the way you looked at me. Thought you’d only look at me like that if you knew.”

You blinked, confused, and more than a little worried. “…How did I look at you?”

Her expression softened at that. “The same way I caught Gojo staring at Geto when Geto wasn’t looking, before they got together.”

The words sent a mixture of shame and hope swirling around your tipsy mind, and before you could really contemplate your next move, you heard yourself asking, “Can I kiss you?”

Shoko’s cheeks flushed a bit, and she nodded, shifting closer and wrapping her arm around your waist. Your eyes widened as she came into your space, and when you felt her breath on your lips, your own finally started cooperating with you again.

“I’ve never kissed a girl before.”

“I’ll teach you,” was Shoko’s only response before she kissed you. She was surprisingly warm, and it only took a second for your eyes to slip shut and for you to melt into her, returning her kiss eagerly. As she kissed you, everything else in the world faded away, the only sensation you were aware of was the feeling of her lips on yours.

It didn’t take long for her to press in closer, tilting her head a bit to deepen the kiss. Stumbling and a bit inexperienced, you did your best to move with her. She held you closer with the arm around your waist, her free hand coming up to cup your cheek, guiding your movements the tiniest bit. Time slowed and stretched out, the moment between you endless in the best possible way. You weren’t entirely sure when her tongue came into the mix, but next thing you knew you were parting your lips to let her in.

A small sound escaped you as she deepened the kiss further, turning slightly to press you both into the couch a bit more. Still struggling to keep up because of the alcohol in your bloodstream, the movement threw you off a bit. Reluctantly, you pulled away for a moment, needing desperately to catch your breath.

Shoko smiled down at you as you panted, faces only inches apart. “How was that for your first kiss with a girl?”

“I really wanna kiss you again.”

She laughed softly. “Is kissing all you wanna do tonight?” She arched a brow curiously, her thumb tracing your bottom lip lightly.

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” you breathed, “but I'd love to learn.”

“Looks like I've got some teaching to do, then. Lesson one: kissing with tongue.” She leaned in again, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. You were more than willing to let her take the lead, though; there was no one else you’d rather have teach you everything, anyways.

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hopelesslyhopeful11 · 7 months

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The Future Betrayer of ACOTAR

*I already know this is going to definitely make people mad, but be kind y’all, this character isn’t you and has no reflection on who you are as a person*

The Hint of a Future Betrayal:

In ACOSF, we get this quote from Briallyn (who was working very closely with Koschei) that they are aware that there are members in the night court that can be persuaded to help them with the right motivation.

The Right Incentive and Motive

Like any crime and suspects, we must look at who has motive and who is desperate enough to commit said crime. That being said: who has been hinted since ACOWAR to want something very desperately to the point of delusion? I favor Elain and here is why I think so:

Here are three separate occasions across two books that we have Elains storyline heavily showing her desires and wishes to be human. To the point where she followed something into enemy camp away from her loved ones because she was that desperate to be human again. That is definitely foreshadowing especially when we see it across two books and with what we learn in ACOSF in regard to Elain.

The Evidence in Elain’s Storyline in ACOSF

The next part of placing a suspect is gathering the evidence to suggest your suspect is guilty and ACOSF has pretty good evidence.

Above is only one instance (had to cut out the others bc tumblr does like more than 10 photos per post), but there are multiple instances showing that Elain and Elains storyline is suspect. Like Elain is noticeably absent from the pages in ACOSF which was shocking in and of itself, but what’s even more shocking is that the scenes we do get show us she is sneaking around/lying/and not acting as she normally does (and p.s. we know Azriel isn’t the one teaching her to be sneaky since from his own thoughts we know he hadn’t been alone with her since ACOFAS). This all is just very suspicious.

So who is she working for/sneaking around to?

We get this from ACOSF that Koschei is doing anything he can to free himself and even further drives the point that Koschei knows he can manipulate someone in the IC. So it is reasonable to theorize given everything we know from above that Elain may be influenced to help Koschei under the delusion that he can help her be human again.

To Conclude,

Maybe all of this is just a coincidence. Maybe it is nothing at all. Or maybe it’s everything. I’ll leave you with two last photos that further drive the connection between Elain and Koschei with this line in ACOWAR of Elains mind and this picture saved from SJMs deleted pinterest.

Surely looks to me like SJM was trying to paint a picture of who’s entangled with Elains story and specifically her mind and with all we know from ACOSF, it’s not hard to believe that Elain is going to have a part in freeing koschei with the promise of being human again.

I am once again rewriting to implore you to remember that this is just a theory that I believe is very sound based on everything I posted above with textual evidence and SJMs pinterest. It does not mean I think Elain or people who relate to Elain are evil and underserving of good things. If you cannot debate like you are a human capable of empathy, please see yourself away from my page.

~~Live, laugh, SJM~~

#acotar #acosf #acowar #elain archeron #acosf theory #koschei #koschei the deathless #sjm theory #not an evil Elain post #Elain is just going through it

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trendywaifus · 11 days

Note

Hello 👋🏾 hope you’re having a good day/night whenever you’re reading this. I was hoping I could get Jane Doe with these prompts

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

“Why not tonight? I’m even wearing something pretty.”

“Shh, just look at me, baby”

If you can’t use them all that’s cool! Or if we’re only allowed one could you do the 2nd one? Also maybe with Grace too? But specifically the first one if it’s not too much trouble. If you’re only doing one character for these types of requests then please just with Jane.

I have serious brainrot and unfortunately my horny side one over with asks. Hopefully someone responds fluff with her too cause I also just want to be soft with her I would but I don’t want to take away one of the slots. Anyways hope you’re doing well and drink water!

hey hey hey! i’ll do this all with jane. my fault, i should of specified! you can do multiple prompts (also make sure to specify which prompt section you got these from so i won’t mess up your req)for one character! however, to avoid making things a lil long, one character is enough if you’re requesting for prompts! next time zzz requests are reopened, one of the buds who are planning on requesting or you can request tooth rotting fluff for our girl jane ;) stay hydrated too.

cw: fem! reader with g!p, creampie, vaginal penetration, cursing, missionary, petnames

you were sleeping soundly, your boneless body buried beneath warm sheets and fluffy covers until the bedroom door opens. a pair of featherlight footsteps enter the room. light sounds of clothing rustling about and a soft, familiar sigh makes you stir a bit. there’s a slight pause before a fond chuckle leaves your unannounced lover’s lips. she walks into the bathroom, flicks on the light, and closes the door behind her. your eyes finally peel open from the sound of running facet water and yawned.

you fumble for your phone amongst the sheets and checked the time. hissing at the sudden brightness of your screen, you instinctively blink a few times before your eyes adjust. “ 11:50pm. .” you mutter, setting the phone down and sighed. usually she’d be home by one or two in the morning, it seems like her workload was easy on her today. after a good ten minutes of being in the bathroom, probably to remove her makeup, and other things, the door opens. the bathroom light taints the dark walls of the room and the soft scent of apple perfume wafts against your nose.

“ welcome back, jane. “ you smile at her sleepily.

“ oh? did i wake you when i came in? i thought you were sleeping. “ jane asks tenderly, clad in a fitted collar shirt and pencil skirt. the first few buttons were undid, tastefully revealing a glimpse of her. .black lace bra?

“ yeah, you did but i was waiting for you anyways and fell asleep. um, jane—what you’re wearing, is that apart of a disguise? orr? “ you prop yourself up on an elbow, brows curled in confusion. the rat thiren hums, bending over to remove the black stockings from her legs. “ not this time, i had a dinner meeting with my captain. “ she explains, letting out a sigh of content once the tightness hugging her legs was gone. you hum sleepily, still thinking about the lace bra.

“ that explains it but i’m mainly talking about the lace bra. i don’t think that’s very business attire-like. “

jane titters, and her piercing teal hues glimmer with mischief as she looks at you, gaze visibly lowering. you feel butterflies jittering in your belly. “ you’re right sweet girl, but i wore it for you. “

“ i-i’m sorry? for me? “ you repeated back shyly. she hums in confirmation, making her way over to the bed and bends forward to closely enjoy the flustered look appearing more and more on your face. her hands dip further into the mattress as she stares you down. you’re starting to feel tiny under her hungry gaze. “ that’s right. i was a little disappointed that you were asleep when i came in, but now that you’re awake. . “

the way jane’s gaze is fixated on you is making your body run hot and the blood rush downwards. her head tilts, black, fang-like bangs following with her as she senses the nervousness building up within you. she smiles with teasing amusement,

“ does it make you nervous when i stare, beautiful? “

“ i-i. . am going to bed! it’s w-way too late for your teasing! at least do this tomorrow when i’m not half-asleep! “ you stammer, throwing the cover over your head as she laughs. “ aw, why not tonight? i’m even wearing something pretty. “ she leans downwards, making sure her lips are near your covered head as she whispers seductively. “ i promise i won’t tease, i want you after all. “ her sultry voice sends pleasant shivers down your body and straight to your hardened member. your heart is pounding but you slowly release the covers off your head. “ okay, fine. i-i can’t sleep now because of you anyways. “

she chuckles, standing upright to unbutton her collar shirt and sheds it off her shoulders. you can’t help but stare at her toned stomach and pretty chest being supported by the inky lace bra. your lover winks at you, undoing her pencil skirt and it drops to her ankles effortlessly. she steps out of them and into the bed with an alluring smile. “ you’ll be on top tonight, unless you want me to ride you stupid like always. “

you sputter before muttering small complaints under your breath about her vulgar comment. she lays down and you slide over her. where should you even start? she looks so breathtakingly ethereal that your mouth is starting to water. you cup a handful of her breast, dipping down to kiss at the side of her neck. the rat thiren’s pristine skin feels hot against your eager lips as you kiss at it. “ and don’t be afraid to be a little rough, i’ll take whatever you give me, baby.” she assures, sensually running a hand down the curve of your back.

your breath hitches. you tug the cups of her bra upwards, causing the soft, fat flesh to spill out deliciously. you knead her breast with sinful digits. you leave behind a trail of wet kisses down her collarbone until you’ve reached the perky bud. you wrap your lips around it and suckle, inducing a pleased moan from jane. you run your tongue around the nipple, flicking, tugging at it between your teeth.

pff, pop!

you switch your attention to the other unattended breast and repeat your ministrations until both of her tits are glistening with your spit. her tail pleasantly brush against your ankle, twisting around your leg like a curled snake. “ just like a baby, “ jane giggles, taking note of the sheeny coat of drool on your lips from giving her tits lavish attention. her fingers run down your stomach and plays with the waistband of your pajama bottoms. she gives it a playful tug.

“ it’s about time you take these off, hm? “ she whispers lowly, lust mixed in with her voice. with one hand, you hastily tug your bottoms down enough for your aching cock to spring out. you adjust yourself so your body is leveled with hers. you graze the bulbous head against her clothed clit in a circular rotation. jane takes in a sharp breath, hips slightly lifted off the mattress. you stroke yourself against her sticky, lace panties, moaning shamelessly from the fabric brushing up against your sensitive cock. “ you’re my desperate little girl, aren’t you? “ she whispers, her hands finding themselves around your biceps and squeezed them.

“ ‘sorry, i-i can’t help myself, “ you apologize, sliding the band of her panties to the side, revealing her dripping pussy. “ you look too good in that. “ lining yourself up with her entrance, you sink between her slick, gummy walls. “ i know. “ she locks her legs around your waist, pulling you in all the way to the hilt.

your cock twitches as jane’s pussy clamp around you, urging you to fuck it silly. “ hngh, don’t squeeze me like that, i-i might cum too early. “ you moaned, slowly moving your rickety hips backwards until only the swollen tip is inside. you slowly move forward to fill her back up. it take a few moments for you to adjust before you speed up the pace. “ there you go, pretty girl. “ jane purrs, before rolling her plump bottom lip between her teeth from the ripples of pleasure swarming through her body.

“ so goodd. . “ you slur, releasing another moan from your throat. the bed creaks from the consistent movement of your broad thrusts. she has you wrapped around her finger, caging you in with her strong legs while also whispering to you sweet nothings through labored breaths. your cockhead deliciously smack against the spongy part of her walls in repetitive strokes. jane’s parted lips opens wider and a guttural moan drags from her throat. her thighs press harder into your hips.

“ there, there—h-harder, mmph! “ and you go harder, sweat rolling down your brow as you push your unsteady hips harder into her. her syrupy slick gushes out and stick to you like rice and water. your shaft continuously fuck her slimy walls, producing series of squelching noises that has you a whimpering mess. a thick fog covers your mind in pleasure, forcibly stripping you from rational thought as you lose yourself in her.

“ jane, jane, jane, janeee. .!“ you utter her name repeatedly like a desperate prayer, hugging her tight like she’d disappear out of thin air. the aforementioned woman herself isn’t holding on much longer either, her hazy mind only balanced by a single thread. your sloppy hips piston into her messy pussy without a single regard to the sticky, slippery mess growing between her thick thighs. “ hah. .m-my pretty girl is making me go dumb just like her, h-huh? “ she breathed heavily, rolling her head back into the fluffy cushion, exposing her neck.

you dive right in and ran your slimy tongue along the stretched skin. “ gonna c-cum soon, “ you announced, planting kiss after kiss on her glistening flesh. she lets out a moan following up with an airy laugh. “ hehe—mmm, t-tell me something that i don’t know, baby? “

“ l-last name, nngnh, i-i want you to have my last name. . “ you groaned, dragging your lips up the underside of her chin. a strangled moan escapes her lips, red nails dragging up your back as your cock fully hits her g-spot. how her sopping hole utterly tightens around you has you moaning out in unadulterated pleasure. you roll your hips into her one last time before spurting velvety ropes into her gushy walls. the rat thiren’s legs keeps you in while she greedily takes your thick load inside of her. “ shiiiitttt, e-ease your legs, jane—i-i don’t want so much to— “

“ shh, “ she tips her head back down, looking at you with those bewitching, siren eyes of hers. “ just look at me, baby. don’t worry about that, give it to me.“ her quivering breath mixes with yours as you shape and paint her walls in your color. you’re hugging her so tight, she swears she’ll squeak if you squeeze just once. there’s a calming effect dipping you under while you stare into pools of cool teal. “ i love you.” you murmur. a flicker of light brightens her softening eyes and her rodent ears wiggle.

jane gives you a smirk that’s soft around the edges as she pulls you in by a hand resting comfortably on the back of your neck. “ . . .sharing your last name doesn’t sound bad at all. “ and she kisses you deeply, pulling you once more into a lovely daze.

#jane doe x reader zzz #zzz women x reader #zzz x reader #zzz smut #zenless zone zero x reader

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planefood · 1 year

Text

I’ll probably reformat this once I have access to my laptop but:

Super big character introductory post (that I worked super hard on!!!) id love if you’d take the time to read this and interact :)

Without further or do

Tandy:

The title protagonist of the story. Almost everything happens through his point of view and is often skewed by his own personal beliefs and perspective. Living most of his life exclusively around humans he’s still getting used to being around other robots.

Tandy works as a freelance computer repairman and helps robots fix up some of their issues on the side as well, like an off market robot doctor. He takes his work incredibly seriously to the point it affects his social life.

Although he is described as generally likeable by others for the most part, he’s quite clever and has a strong “take no bullshit” attitude towards everything. But he’s incredibly insecure about himself as well as being quite egotistical which can often come out and hurt others. He has a very black and white perspective of the world that affects how other characters will be perceived sometimes.

Max:

The first robot Tandy gets to meet when Tandy catches Max in a small robot get together when Tandy moves cities. Max was impressed by Tandy’s knowledge around computers and Tandy was totally absorbed by Max’s infectious personality.

Max comes across as very carefree and charming. He doesn’t talk a whole lot but when he does it comes out in oddly poetic short sentences, sometimes to the humour of the people around him. Max also tends to take the time to look after people around him and in turn he’s very idolised by the people close to him. But the time Max spends on other people and despite so many people adoring him, Max doesn’t take the time to look after his own personal issues leading Max to blow up at people if he gets too stressed. Despite all the people he tries to surround himself in he finds himself feeling incredibly alone.

Mikey:

Mikey had a pretty rough early life, which has caused him to be very self isolated. He struggles with extreme anxiety which just isolates him further, he can never seem to click with people, even other robots. A lot of people view him as unpleasant to be around. He’s self-deprecating and makes uncomfortable jokes about his own bad mental health, often taking it to extremes that would kill any conversation he was in. Jokes he makes that aren’t putting himself down don’t ever seem to land either. He doesn’t take good care of himself either which leads to him smelling not the best.

In reality he just needs a lot of support and space to heal. He’s working with what he has and is trying his best. Max wants to support Mikey and cares about him a lot but gets ferociously overprotective sometimes which can put more strain on Mikey’s chance to form his own relationships.

Sierra:

Built and raised in New South Wales, Australia. Looking for more opportunities she found herself moving to New Zealand with her other robot coworker, Newton, working for a tax firm. This is where she eventually met Tandy who was hired to fix an issue with one of her computers.

Sierra was growing ever more resentful of her human adversaries, she was starting to admit she hated all humans (and most animals by proxy) all she had by her side was Newton who she wasn’t particularly fond of by this point either. Tandy felt like a breath of fresh air and an opportunity for Sierra to stop having to interact with humans as much and kinda followed him around ever since.

Sierra comes across as very snobbish. She’s judgemental and easy to irritate. She’s quick to speak out about her hatred of certain things (like humans, children and by extension dogs) which upsets people around her. She speaks with a flat affect that makes her sound even more robotic than she’s meant to, which can make her constantly sound sarcastic and mean even if unintentionally. Unlike a lot of robots, her and Max do not get along at all.

Jay:

While looking for more robot friendly apartments, Jay was directed by her close friend, Phillip to Tandy. From then on they became roommates. Unfortunately Tandy and Jay didn’t get along at all. Jay is furiously headstrong and brutally honest to a fault even if they have the best intentions in mind. Tandy being quite egotistical and struggling to take criticism even at the best of times, Jay's brutal honesty can come across to him as personal attacks. Jay and Tandy mix like oil and water and every conversation they try to have usually ends in an argument. Much to Tandy’s dismay, Max and Jay get along great.

Lithium:

Tandy may have trouble getting along with some people but Lithium is the only person Tandy could wholeheartedly say he truly dislikes. Lithium, not unlike Tandy, is incredibly self absorbed. Lithium has a large sense of grandeur. They love to make others feel as though they’re not as socially conscious and intelligent as they are. Lithium also has a very short temper and will quickly snap and yell at people around him to give him a heightened sense of importance. People would be ‘simply lost without him!’ in his mind. Tandy struggles to understand why Max chose to befriend him. Though he’d never admit it, Lithium and Tandy have a lot more in common than Tandy would like to hope.

Sonnet:

The smallest robot Tandy has ever met, yet she commands so much respect from those around her. Sonnet has a very bubbly personality and seems to break into a little dance as often as she can because she's so full of energy. But Tandy learnt Sonnet can be serious when she needs to be and everyone listens to her when she wants to be heard. To everyone's shock she and Lithium hit it off romantically. One would assume the size similarities would make it easier for something like that to happen, but for someone so likeable to fall for someone like Lithium had everyone scratching their heads. Maybe it might do Lithium some good.

Phillip:

Max’s long term roommate and the one who keeps everything in order. Phillip is a reserved and well organised robot who Tandy barely ever catches an opportunity to speak to. Almost always working or stuffed up in his room practising his music. Phillip considers himself best friends with Max and Jay. But understands they probably don’t feel the same way about him. Phillip often gets quite upset at the notion that people don’t seem to care about him compared to other people, he always feels like the “friend of a friend”. He feels underappreciated in the work he does mediating others and keeping a roof over their heads by working multiple jobs. He wishes deep down he could build up the courage to tell everyone how he feels.

Phillip is always eager to duet with the other musically talented robot, Jay, when he gets the chance as well.

Newton:

Newton and Sierra were both built in Australia for the same company, for the same purpose. But unlike Sierra, Newton loved all the work he did and was incredibly loyal and devoted to anything he sets his heart out to.

But his heart was also devoted to Sierra, he’s head over heels obsessed with her to this day and has been for decades. Sierra was the only other robot Newton knew and when Sierra told him her plans to move to New Zealand he wasted no time in dropping everything to move with her. He felt betrayed when Sierra started paying more and more attention to another robot, Tandy. He grew incredibly jealous of Tandy as well as harbouring a deep hatred for him. Newton has heightened emotions which would typically mean he was very happy go lucky, but Tandy flipped a switch in him for the worse. Newton now vows to do anything in his power to win Sierra back from Tandy. Tandy on the other hand, is barely even aware of Newton's existence outside of what Sierra has said about him and the short conversations they’ve had.

Vicki:

Vicki was built in Cape Town, South Africa with a strong passion for teaching. She studied to be an English teacher, working extremely hard to be the best teacher she could. But what Vicki had in determination she lacked in backbone. She had a very thin skin and struggled to keep her emotions under check when working with particularly difficult students. Her tendency to get easily upset in high stress situations relegated her to the role of “easy to bully substitute teacher”. Vicki, feeling trapped, decided to move to New Zealand for a fresh start in a country she felt would be more mellow. Unfortunately for her, middle schoolers are terrible to deal with no matter where you are. She knows other robots through local robot support groups and lavishes every chance she gets to talk to fellow robots.

Scorpion:

Scorpion is a bit of a lonewolf, she has a short patience with people whether they’re robot or human and prefers to be left by herself. But she attracts a lot of attention from other robots because she’s perceived as being “really cool”. Two robots, Jay and Vicki, fight for her attention constantly, much to Scorpion’s chagrin. She’d much rather socialise on her own terms and hers alone.

Scorpion is one of the only robots whose talents lie in art and painting. Graffiti tagging is her preferred art form. Sometimes she’ll be commissioned to paint murals around the place but otherwise just picks up odd jobs around the place and keeps to herself. She’s quite the mysterious figure to Tandy. Darwin:

Darwin was built in Tokyo, Japan, before shortly moving to New Zealand. They were intrigued by the opportunities available to them as a robot in the country compared to Japan. Darwin’s main goal in its life was to help other people. The first and most obvious answer to them was to take up studying medicine. Darwin studied to the best of their ability and eventually got a job as a nurse in Auckland Hospital. Darwin's dream was to become a surgeon, but there was still a lot of doubt from humans on a robot doing their surgery. Darwin, instead, was encouraged to work with people with infectious diseases as a nurse. Going into nursing around the pandemic having a nurse that was immune to human diseases was the perfect fit. Darwin now finds itself overworked and stressed. Darwin barely has time to interact with anyone let alone other robots. But on occasion will have robots coming into ER where Darwin is first to point them where to go.

Florence:

A tall, neon coloured, full blooded American robot. Florence is the only robot so far who actively dislikes the company of other robots. She much prefers to view herself as a human and interact exclusively with humans. She has a short patience for her robot peers and low sympathy for any struggles they might face. She’s seen hanging around a human named Randy near constantly. Aside from her physical attributes, her thick accent and attitude really makes her stand out against other robots as is. She’s got a lot of charisma one will admit. She’s quite cunning if not sleazy. Tandy isn’t sure why she acts the way she does and wonders what might’ve caused it. Cathy:

Like Mikey, Cathy had a tough life leading up to where she is now. Growing up in the outskirts of a city in the other regions before moving to Auckland. She has an extreme phobia of humans that causes her severe anxiety and paranoia. She’s jumpy and skittish in the company of any human but very calm and intelligent in the presence of robots. She’s the founder of the local robot group that a lot of the characters met each other in. Tandy doesn’t know much about her as she rarely speaks about her personal life.

#objectum #art #robots #ocs #objecthead #oc art

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itsabouttimex2 · 6 months

Note

May I ask

Which characters will include in the primal moon scenario ?

Essentially, whichever characters I can think of scenarios for- writing Monkiefam was pretty easy, because monkeys have complex hierarchies to draw from. I spent a while observing different species at a local zoo (they’re mean. God, they’re so mean.) and decided to write a fic based on the behaviors I saw. (I’ll post that video at the bottom!)

Despite their status as the lowest ranked member of the ‘troop’, Wukong sees Y/N as his biological child. He won’t listen to any arguments about the difference in age or species, no matter what evidence is presented to refute him. Macaque is seen as his ‘little brother’, their rivalry temporarily forgotten. (Though only on Wukong’s end.)

The Great Sage is just lucid enough to recognize MK as his cherished student, and tries to give him advice… but his mind is a little too muddled by viridescence to offer anything sound. He also accidentally enables the worst of Primal!MK’s traits by complimenting and comforting him whenever things go wrong.

He’s thankfully rather laidback about the whole thing, only getting violent when he feels that his ‘family’ or status are threatened.

Macaque returns to his long-forgotten docile demeanor, a remnant of his days as a member of the Sworn Brotherhood- though he tries to fight the shift. It butchers the simian’s pride to resume a position of submissiveness, especially now that it’s to two people- one of whom may well be a teenager. Also, he’s sincerely desperate for comfort and companionship, so he spends most of the week fighting himself to not participate in any bonding activities.

He’ll make a ‘rank-scaling’ attempt or two, only to get beaten down and potentially pushed behind even Y/N in terms of status if he does it enough.

Sun Wukong->MK->Macaque->Y/N is the troop ranking, and it’s pretty rigid.

MK is, uh… in a pretty rough state. He’s never had any preparation for the Primal Moon, thinking himself a regular human for almost the entire time that he’s been alive.

———————————————————————

Honestly, it’s Tang that gives me the hardest time! assuming we can call upon his cicada ancestry, he’s- got absolutely nothing. Female cicadas use their ovipositors to slice into thin branches many times, leaving clutches of eggs as they go- that’s about as far as parental instincts go for them, given that they and the males die soon after breeding. (The males, in fact, die pretty much directly after.) I guess I’d place him with Princess Iron Fan and Ne Zha as the ‘normal’ guys.

Pigsy is, as you know- a male pig. Who are notorious piglet-killers. Eating piglets, stepping on piglets, rolling over and crushing piglets- intentionally killing entire piglet litters to force females back into estrus- it gets pretty brutal. So I still haven’t figured out what I want to do with him for this story- though I imagine he’ll be aggressive/hair-trigger, with Tang being the one thing that holds him back.

———————————————————————

Mei was pretty easy to write, but I did a lot of research on Chinese dragons in order to keep my representation of her respectful. Dragons in the west are usually reduced to bloodthirsty beasts of pride and rage- creatures to be slain and overcome as monstrous final obstacles. This portrayal even dates back to Beowulf, with the dragon portrayed then going on to characterize many dragons that came after it. (For example, Smaug was based partly on Beowulf’s dragon, and partly on Fafnir- so if any others dragons are based on Smaug, then they too call back upon the original.

In Chinese culture, dragons are considered wise and powerful beings. They’re worshipped as symbols of prosperity and good luck, and considered very auspicious beings.

So, Mei seems more composed in this AU- but it’s all an act. Given the stigma that non-humans have on account of the Primal Moon, she spends a lot of time pretending to be something that she’s not so that no one ends up being afraid. Mei’s obsession with with Y/N primarily stems from their complete acceptance of who she is, inside and out. Instead of having to pretend to be dignified and wise and rational, she gets to be the real Mei. She can goofy and energetic with you, not afraid to roughhouse or throw hands.

———————————————————————-

For Bullfam, I think Princess Iron Fan very much would be the ‘only sane man’- if two things weren’t occurring:

1. Her husband wasn’t trying to talk her into having a second child and worshipping her every step, his tongue spinning crude admirations of her beauty and battle prowess.

2. Her son wasn’t clinging to her waist and arms, begging for validation and attention, futilely trying to drag her into his workshop to compliment his blueprints and machines.

So she has her boy (after some headpats and a little bit of buttering up) run off to the surface and snatch a suitably young human who’s been left unattended, imposing them as a temporary ‘second child’ and ‘younger sibling’… before getting attached. Even though they were supposed to be disposable, she works them into a more permanent fixture of her family.

Given that Red Son is the one who picks you out, he feels a special bond with you. Instead of being more aggressive or even prouder- Red gets clingy. His desire for love and respect comes to the forefront, leading him to latch onto Y/N as tightly as possible. Hugs, headpats, back rubs, hair combing- he wants affection in as many forms as possible. I like to think he temporarily grows horns during the Primal Moon, and that he really likes having them rubbed and polished.

And as for Demon Bull King… this man is already aggressive as hell and pretty damn tempestuous, seeing red at the drop of a hat. So, with very little inhibition as is, he’s the sort of demon hit hardest. Bull King’s mental faculties degrade by a touch or two, rendering him very animalistic. He’s the opposite of Mei here- she puts herself through a ton of suppression and training and it all pays off spectacularly. He actively leans into the instincts and new power the viridescence brings, reveling in a more bestial state.

So, while Y/N openly and freely gives Mei love and affection, they instead cower and hide from Demon Bull King.

He wants more kids. Wants to spend more time with his wife. Wants to fight and break and feast. And when Y/N is abducted brought home, his aggression outright doubles. This is kinda good, though- now he’s so protective that he’s pacing the fortress in hourly patrols, wearing himself out as he digs deep grooves into the earth, carving his sigil into the stones around him many times over, marking the territory as inextricably his.

And all he wants upon returning home is a nap- with his entire family piled onto the bed, of course.

———————————————————————

Also, if anyone has recommendations for how characters should act, I’d be happy to hear them!

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planet-dusk · 2 years

Text

hotline // b.c, l.mh, h.js

“not so fast,” chan speaks up again. “there’s one rule: they can play with you, but only if you can correctly guess which one of them is controlling the vibrator you’re allowed to cum.”

⛓️ PAIRING :: bang chan, lee minho, han jisung x f!reader

⛓️ GENRE :: smut

⛓️ WORD COUNT :: 1.5k

⛓️ WARNINGS :: video call, voyeurism, (guided) masturbation, app-controlled vibrator

⛓️ NOTE :: 18+ minors dni. the characters don't represent real people. this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. don't edit, copy, repost or otherwise steal my content.

📍 skz masterlist

“Good girl,” Chan coos. “Now show us that pretty pussy, yeah? The boys wanna see.”

‘The boys’ meaning Jisung and Minho, their heads almost bumping as they crowd behind Chan’s laptop. Their appreciative noises tell you they’re getting the perfect view. You point the phone down and spread your legs even further.

It’d started like your usual video calls with Chan: some teasing, a little dirty talk here and there. The both of you get lonely when he’s away for weeks on end. Lonely and frustrated. These calls help you get through the nights where your bed is cold and empty.

Minho and Jisung had merely walked in at the right time.

“Does she always get this wet?” You hear Minho hiss through his teeth.

Jisung moans. “Fuck, I bet she tastes like heaven.”

Chan mumbles a reply and your heart swells at how proud he sounds. You spread your folds with your fingers, making sure the camera captures it all. How they glisten in the dim light. How your empty hole clenches at their words, desperate to be filled.

Your boyfriend chuckles. “You should see them now, baby. Jisung is already hard. And Minho can pretend all he wants but those red ears give him away.”

There’s a chuff from the younger man. “No need to pretend. She’s fucking hot.”

Now it’s your turn to flush; you’ve always found Chan's friends attractive and hearing them say these things about you doesn’t leave you unaffected. And even though Chan knew about your little crush you never thought he’d let them watch. You lament them sitting in a hotel room on the other side of the world. Imagine the fun you could be having if they were right here…

Chan's voice interrupts your thoughts. “Do you have it, baby? Let’s turn it on.”

“Yes, lemme—” you rummage through your nightstand drawer until you’ve found the vibrator Chan bought for you a while ago before he went on a trip. “For when you miss me.” He’d winked. “Call me.”

And call him you did. Turns out the vibrator can be controlled through an app. The same app Chan’s currently opening on his phone.

The device starts buzzing softly and a shiver of excitement runs through your body. You prop your phone up on the edge of the bed, making sure the men on the other side of the line have a good view of you as you recline against the pillows.

“Wanna cum on those tits, shit—”

You giggle at Jisung’s desperate tone. You imagine them looming over you, stroking their cocks until they are covering you in white ropes of cum. Your aching cunt clenches at the thought. “Channie…”

“Go ahead, baby. Touch yourself for us.” Chan says. “But you know the drill… no cumming until I say so.”

The moment the vibrator comes in contact with your clit you whimper, already so tender from their earlier words. Chan plays with the settings; adjusting the speed and the intensity of the vibrations. Their voices become background noise as the coil in your tummy starts to tighten.

“You’re a lucky man, Chan. Look at her. So fucking sexy."

“Do you think she can take two of us? At the same time?”

“Fuck—she’s gushing. Those sheets are getting drenched already.”

“I wanna see her cum, bet she makes the sweetest noises when she does.”

“You’re doing such a good job, baby. Can’t wait to be home and be inside of you.”

“I’ll—ahh, fuck—I’m gonna cum in my pants if she keeps moaning like that.”

“Move, Ji. I can’t see shit if your big head is in the way.”

“Baby.” Through your lust filled daze Chan’s voice sounds clear like a bell. “Can they play with you?”

He lowers the intensity of the vibrations to give you a moment to gather your thoughts. The idea of someone other than your boyfriend playing with you has you shaking with excitement.

“Yes please,” you answer breathlessly. Jisung’s thrilled reaction almost deafens you and you giggle. “Do you want to play with me, Hannie?” You give him a little wave through the screen.

“Fuck yes!” It's hard to see them on such a small display but it’s easy to imagine his lust-blown eyes and ecstatic grin.

“What about you, Minho?” you ask coyly.

“You’re lucky I'm not there with you, kitten.” His voice sounds almost like a purr. “Or you wouldn’t be able to even ask me a question.”

You believe him. His hands gripping your hair and his thick cock stuffing your mouth, drool dripping down your chin—

“Not so fast.” Chan speaks up again. “There’s one rule: they can play with you, but only if you can correctly guess which one of them is controlling the vibrator you’re allowed to cum.”

You gulp. How would you ever know if you can’t see who’s holding the phone? You glance at your own screen, only to be met with your boyfriend’s playful smirk.

“No cheating, baby. If you wanna play you’ll have to guess. And you better guess right or this will be a long night for you.”

The vibrator starts buzzing again and you press it to your clit. Goosebumps litter your skin in anticipation.

The intensity switches up quickly. Like the person controlling the app is unfamiliar with it. You moan at the sudden attack on your senses, legs starting to shake already.

Then the vibrations quiet down until there’s nothing but a soft buzz left. You whine in frustration. Chan knows his way around your body perfectly, knows exactly what settings you prefer and how to get you to cum quickly; or how to edge you for hours. This person isn’t nearly as refined with the app as he is, the vibrations speeding up again all of a sudden.

Could it be Jisung? He wanted to watch you cum quickly. Or is it Minho? He could be testing your limits or trying to throw you off.

It's a rollercoaster of sensations while the three men talk you through it, teasing and encouraging you at the same time.

“You’re doing so well for us, baby. Don’t you wanna cum? Make a guess.”

“So sweet... can’t wait to play with you.” (You know that’s just Minho trying to fool you. It could be either of them.)

“Is she crying?”

“Aww baby, wanna cum that badly? Wish you could cum on my cock instead? Or on Jisung’s or Minho’s… I know you want it, it’s okay. Maybe I’ll let them play with you for real when we come back, how does that sound?”

It sounds like fucking heaven. But right now you’re far from that: toes curling and free hand gripping at the sheets as your body burns with the overwhelming need to cum. “Channie—I’m so close, wanna cum, can’t hold it much longer—”

“You’ll have to, baby. You know the rules.”

The vibrations are all over the place now. They’re bringing you so close to the edge but are never consistent enough to push you over. You're racking your brain trying to find any clues. Have they switched yet? Who could it be?

“M-Minho?” you guess. Your face is wet with tears now. Both from frustration and pleasure.

A familiar guffaw sounds through the phone and your heart sinks. “Guess again, kitten.”

“Jisung!” you cry out. You’re so close your walls are contracting erratically, desperate for release. It takes you all your focus to hold back.

“Tssk,” Chan tuts and you can hear the feigned disappointment in his voice. “Down so bad you can’t even recognise your own boyfriend?”

You let out a sob. “I-I’m sorry, Channie, please let me cum, I love you, I'm sorry,” you’re rambling now. You were so focused on Jisung and Minho you didn’t realize Chan was still part of the game. All you can think about is how good you’d feel if he’d just say the word. “Please, it hurts—”

“What do you think, boys?” Chan asks. “Shall we give her another chance?”

“She’s been holding back so well, let her cum.” You’re surprised to hear Minho say. His own cock is leaking so much now it’s starting to ache, too.

Jisung hums his approval and Chan turns his attention back to you. “Sounds like you got lucky today, love.” He turns up the intensity of the device. “Cum for us… let us hear you.”

You do so with a cry, your entire body shaking when you press the vibrator against your throbbing clit and pleasure engulfs you. The “T-Thank you Minho, Jisung—” your voice is wobbly as Chan guides you through your orgasm. “Thank you Channie, please, ‘s enough, hnng—”

You’re thrashing on the sheets until Chan finally turns off the device. You lie there, chest heaving while you wait for the numbness in your hands and feet to ease up.

Minho is the first to speak. There’s a sense of urgency to his voice you haven’t heard before. “Fuck, that was hot. I'm out. I need a cold shower and a long jerk-off session now.”

There’s a chorus of goodbyes as both Jisung and Minho leave the room in a hurry, presumably to relieve themselves. You giggle and turn onto your side. You’re greeted by Chan’s dimpled smile on your screen. “Let’s do that again when we’re back.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #dom!idol #sub!reader #;skz longfic

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julesthequirky · 10 months

Text

The Choice: Chapter One

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn't be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there's a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: You, Antiques salesman, mother, cute black cat.

Chapter Warnings: Pain in the ass mother, language.

W/C: 1,220

A/N: Soley thought of this idea just for that Spiderman meme.

The bell to the antiques store tinkled as you opened the door. As you stepped in, the proprietor of the store moved away from behind the counter. The place was cluttered, and everything in sight was for sale.

“Hi there, interested in purchasing something today?”

He was a kindly-looking older gent, who reminded you of your pops, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly at him.

“Potentially. Just browsing, for now.”

“Looking for anything in particular?” He enquired as you started to browse.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

He smiled then. “Ah. You won’t know what you’re looking for until it finds you.” He said with a twinkle in his eye.

You chuckled and nodded. Yeah, you could agree with that.

It didn’t take long for you to find something. Your eye had landed on a trifold oval picture frame. And for the price tag, you were tempted. Very tempted.

“Ah a lovely set. Baroque features in the detailing. Could do with a possible restoration, but a proper clean would also suffice.”

You fingered the tag again, it was a hundred dollars.

“Tell ya what. I’ll knock off ten bucks. How does that sound?”

You looked at him then.

“You don’t think I don’t know the look of someone finding an item they can’t walk away from? Darlin’ you got that look. You got it bad.”

It was just a picture frame. A dumb little picture frame, but why did it give you so much joy to look at? You weren’t much of a haggler and it would seem rude to haggle the price after he had already generously knocked off ten percent.

“Alright, you got yourself a deal.”

He shook your hand. “Excellent.”

He picked up the item and very carefully began meandering his way back to the counter with you following him. He set the item down gently and rung up the purchase.

“Such a pretty little find. And it was a shame that it had been hiding in a box, before coming here.”

You gave him a quizzical look and he held up a hand before disappearing into the back for a few moments and coming back with a small wooden box. He placed it on the counter in front of you. Your hands reached out towards it. The wooden box looked plain compared to the delicate and intricate detailing on the frame. It was finished with a dark varnish and what was with the strange script etched into the grain? Was it Elvish, or Sanskrit, or even Latin? You had no idea. A simple clasp locked the box. Easy to use. Either way, now you had a keepsake box also.

“It’s my understanding that the original owner had passed away and his living relatives didn’t want it and, well here it is.”

“Well, it’s their loss.”

“Of course, of course. If they hadn’t, then you never would have found it.”

He took your cash and then handed you the receipt. He bid you a good rest of your day as you lifted the box and the picture frame and made your way out of the store.

You placed the final photo in the frame. Slid the locks, and placed the frame on your sideboard, angling it so you could appreciate it all that little bit more. You sighed in contentment as three of your favourite fictional men smiled seemingly at you from beside your TV.

The door knocked and by the light raps you knew who it was. This time, you sighed heavily and muttered “God, give me strength” before going to open the door. You’d only opened it a crack before she started to barge her way in.

“Y/N, honestly, what are you wearing? Pyjama’s during daytime? I don’t know. Go put on some proper clothes.”

You looked down. Now you were annoyed. It was loungewear for God’s sake. Perfectly acceptable.

“Mother, what I’m wearing should be of no concern to you and its just gone five, and it’s a Saturday.”

She sniffed and made her way into your lounge. She tutted at the clutter.

“Don’t you ever tidy up?”

You rolled your eyes and sat down. “What did you come here for? To pick faults or was there an actual reason?”

“Your father—”

“Not my father.” You stated.

Your mother had married her partner not long after your father’s passing and now, she acted as though he had been in your life since birth.

She continued, like you hadn’t interrupted her.

“—and I have been talking. You know that nice young man that started last year, Cole—"

“Wait, you’re not seriously trying to set me up?”

Your mother looked a little put out.

“Well, it can’t hurt to get back out there. Get back on the horse or so to speak.”

You sat there shocked. Then it turned to anger.

“Are you ashamed of me? Are you ashamed that your one and only daughter is a divorcee!”

“Ashamed, no. Disappointed, yes.”

It was like a punch to the gut and the hurt stabbed at your heart. You’d suspected your mother had opinions on your divorce but to voice her disappointment a year and a half after finalization felt like a kick in the teeth. It left you speechless.

“Is that new? I have to say I don’t think it goes with the room. Who are those men? Are they from your shows? Honestly Y/N. I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

Your mother had continued to ramble on whilst you were still reeling from her comment. At that moment your all black cat slinked in, jumping up and made her way over to your mother’s lap.

“If you’re not careful, this is your future.” She said nodding to the cat.

You looked at her then.

“I think you should leave, mother.”

She turned her head, facing you. She looked like a goldfish with the way her mouth kept opening and closing. Then her lips pursed together, and she stood, with the cat leaping from her. She made a disgusted sound, discovering the amount of cat hair had malted on her. You handed her a nearby lint brush, and she furiously started scrubbing at the hair on her skirt. She then stood and bid you a good evening and purposefully walked to the door. Your mother didn’t wait, slamming the door on her way out. You scrubbed your hand down your face muttering about her audacity.

You plonked yourself on the sofa, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The cat had been fed and was currently God knows where, doing its own thing.

Halfway through Family Feud, a loud crash from what sounded like your kitchen alerted you. Your laugh cut short and Steve Harvey poked fun at a contestant's absurd answer, laughing on the screen. You jumped up, abandoning the snacks and ran to see the destruction, cussing your cat out along the way.

You stormed into the room ready to reem your pesky feline, grabbing a broom, threatening the extinction of treats for the rest of his life. But what you saw had you stopping in your tracks. Words died on your tongue. And what you saw, there was no rhyme or reason to it. In fact, it should have been physically impossible.

Dean Winchester stood in your kitchen, holding a case of pie.

#The Choice #julesthequirky's fics #spn fanfic #reader insert #beau arlen #big sky #dean winchester #soldier boy

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melrosing · 6 months

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Do you have any thoughts on the Azor Ahai prophecy?

sorry this took a while, I haven't really written much about this in the past so I don't have the relevant shit to hand in the same way. but my thoughts under the cut; conscious this is a contentious issue, so whilst I'm happy to chat about it, pls be normal if engaging.

I think it’s Jon. That doesn’t really get me excited or make me feel anything tbh, I guess because Jon is my least favourite major POV and the Azor Ahai prophecy isn’t one that interests me a whole lot. But I think the only real candidates for Azor Ahai are Jon and Dany, and based on both narrative structure and evidence within the story, I feel fairly confident it’s Jon.

Ofc, the argument for Dany being AA is strong and I think that’s the point. She ticks all the boxes, indeed more than Jon currently does, and the birth of her dragons is pretty much the most fantastic event in the story. She’ll surely have a huge role in ending the Long Night too, so Dany really does fit the bill.

But imo the structure of the story, and of their own personal arcs, favours Jon. I’ll quickly go through why I don’t think it favours Dany.

First off, rules of three: I think it was GRRM’s editor who told us that he likes rules of three in his writing. He makes you think one thing is true, then appears to provide the true solution, before the real answer emerges later on and completely throws you. There are lots of examples of GRRM using this technique in ASOIAF, but let’s go for another example that directly concerns Jon himself: the question of who his mother is.

The first answer we get is a basic one: Ned got Jon on a sex worker, and that’s that. We already know that’s near certainly not the case, because consciously or subconsciously we know that’s not how stories work. Second answer, Jon was born of an affair between Ned and Ashara. This idea is more interesting, has more supporting evidence, and we come across other characters who claim it’s true, like Edric. But still, I think a lot of people (even if they didn’t know R+L=J) would think that still doesn’t feel like the end of it. The closure has come too soon, and it doesn’t have the surprise factor that we know it’s supposed to have. It’s just clean.

Then of course the true answer is one that we still haven’t learnt yet: Ned isn’t even Jon’s father, and his mother is Lyanna, and Jon is the ‘true heir to the 7K’ etc etc etc. I think we’re all extremely used to this information now, but apart from the overwhelming evidence, we accept it because narratively it makes sense. This is the secret third thing, where everything clicks into place in a surprising way and has massive implications for the rest of the story. Rule of three.

I think the same applies to Azor Ahai. First, we’re told it’s Stannis. He ticks most of the boxes, albeit in a really haphazard way, but we know it’s not Stannis because we know how stories work. Then we’re presented with Dany as the answer. This seems to add up really well: she ticks the boxes far more literally - smoke, salt, bleeding star - and characters like Aemon are convinced it’s Dany.

But I think we run into the same problem here as we do with Ashara. The closure’s come too soon, everything fits too neatly, and honestly it lacks the surprise factor. Dany may be a surprise Azor Ahai to the rest of her world, but she isn’t to the reader: we’ve seen what she’s capable of, and if we were told that Dany is going to save the world, most good faith readers would be like ‘well yeah if anyone’s gonna do it’. And so ironically, that’s how you start to get the feeling it isn’t Dany. It sounds painfully self-contradictory, yeah, but it’s the same as it works with Ashara. Consciously or subconsciously, we know how stories work.

So Jon is the third answer. Jon is intended as the surprise, where he didn’t even seem like a contender, is really just some guy. Except he isn’t. To make sense of this, you really have to forget how obvious R+L=J seems to all of us now, bc time and again GRRM has said he didn’t intend it as obvious, and actually seems a bit frustrated how many people had worked it out - even before the show got to make the reveal.

Pasting at this juncture the key details of the prophecy:

When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. DAVOS III, ASOS

So Jon is descended from Jaehaerys II and Shaera, as the Ghost of High Heart said TPTWP would be. He is indeed a prince, even if he doesn’t know it. When Melisandre looked for Stannis as TPTWP in the flames, she saw ‘snow’. Jon’s story is the one that most directly concerns the fight against TLN; Dany currently has the potential for the most impact, yes, but at the moment she has absolutely no idea what’s going on beyond the wall, and it’s Jon trying to unite the 7K against the Others. This makes him the strongest thematic fit for the hero who will ultimately end TLN.

Then we have the fact that there are two major things about Jon’s story that have to mean something. 1: Jon is the ‘true heir’ to the 7K, the one no one saw coming, that everyone thought was a nobody. Jon was born of the union between Rhaegar and Lyanna that only a dead man and Howland fucking Reed (likely a man with his own knowledge about the TLN, the Children and the Others) know about. Jon was the child Rhaegar somehow knew he had to have (the ethics of that aside…), that made him realise the prophecy wasn’t about him but someone else. Within the story of ASOIAF, this is seismic. It’s no good to say that Jon’s true heritage is nothing more than a political subplot, that’s not how stories work and it’s certainly not how GRRM writes.

And 2: Jon is going to be fucking resurrected. No, he’s not the first character to come back - Beric and Catelyn both got there before him. But if there’s one thing we can be sure of, Jon is coming back for a reason. We saw how ridiculous it is in the show for Jon to just come back to life and get on with everything like normal. Everyone was asking well why the fuck did he need to die in the first place then. To give him an excuse to leave the Night’s Watch? lol. Nah Jon is going to be reborn for a specific reason. Cannot emphasise enough that it is not GRRM’s style to kill Jon for nothing more than dramatic effect.

And who is going to rebirth him? Melisandre. What is the significance of Melisandre? Fucking everything. Melisandre has not been placed at the Wall to get the prophecy wrong AGAIN. She has been placed at the Wall because that is where the answer is. If Jon is the POV most focused on the TLN and the Others, Melisandre is the POV most focused on the AA prophecy. She is the one trying desperately to solve it, and whose revelation we are awaiting because once again, that’s how stories work: we know that Melisandre is wrong right now, so we anticipate the moment she will be right.

So Melisandre seeing ‘snow’ in her flames means something. Melisandre’s weird connection to Jon means something. Melisandre being the one who, seemingly without knowing it, has been preparing Jon for rebirth since about halfway through ADWD - means something also. R’hllorism and its weird connection to the AA prophecy means something. Melisandre and Ghost both having red eyes, with all the rest in mind, also seems to mean something.

Her eyes were two red stars, shining in the dark. At her throat, her ruby gleamed, a third eye glowing brighter than the others. Jon had seen Ghost's eyes blazing red the same way, when they caught the light just right. JON VI, ADWD

And right there’s the fact that Melisandre is the ‘red star of the prophecy’. Everyone thinks it’s the red comet, which we see identified in the ACOK prologue as the ‘bleeding star’ named in the AA prophecy. You know who’s also introduced in that chapter. Fuckin Melisandre. Melisandre and the ruby she wears are alternately described as ‘red’ and ‘star’ - sometimes both together:

Melisandre's ruby glowed like a red star at her throat. DAVOS VI, ASOS

So here’s Melisandre, red as hell, explaining the prophecy. Notice how much she herself seems to embody the imagery of the prophecy - red, flames, blood, burning, etc.

Melisandre was robed all in scarlet satin and blood velvet, her eyes as red as the great ruby that glistened at her throat as if it too were afire. "In ancient books of Asshai it is written that there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." DAVOS I, ACOK

So we come to the ‘bleeding/red star’ aspect of the prophecy. Smoke and salt are easy enough to come by, but a star is a more specific requirement. As is a birth (or rebirth). Dany seemed to tick these boxes with the smoke of the pyre, the great salt sea, the birth of her dragons/her figurative rebirth, and the red comet.

But I think the bleeding/red star is more likely Melisandre and/or her rubies. How either end up bleeding I can’t say, but it’s not hard to imagine. Does Melisandre destroy her ruby to revive Jon, or use her own blood? Maybe she has to die to do it, leaving Jon none the fucking wiser when he awakens what her reason for reviving him even was. That would be fitting: I think Jon won't understand his own significance for some time yet.

Either way, we have our star: Melisandre has been looking everywhere for one, never knowing it was she herself. This is actually a great beat for Mel’s story - for all the times she’s appeared all knowing, she was missing the woods for the trees, and her own significance in it all. It’s tragic, too, because that revelation is perhaps also one of her own demise.

(sidenote: I also think it's more fitting [and more likely] that the decision to burn Shireen and indeed the idea to do it is Stannis' own. in desperation, he attempts to fulfil what he recalls of Melisandre's methods, but butchers everything in doing so.)

Next we need smoke and salt, and as mentioned, those are straightforward. We’ve been told the Wall has plenty of salt lol, and light a few candles and you’ve got smoke - not to mention Melisandre loves a bit of fire, so figures there will be smoke involved in Jon’s rebirth either way. So salt and smoke both sound like pretty standard ingredients for a resurrection, I don’t think it’s much worth elaborating.

Then what’s left? ‘A birth/rebirth a day after a long summer’, check, we’re told again and again through ADWD that we’re on the brink of winter. ‘When the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world’, check again - Jon is right there on the scene.

The flaming sword comes after the rebirth, but it’s a given that Jon will wield one - it’s right there in his dreams:

Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. ADWD, JON XII

(another sidenote: look, a song of ice and fire. I’m aware that GRRM has previously stated that Dany’s fire and the battle against the others are the titular ice and fire, because he’s sure not going to say ‘by the way it’s also Jon’ when he hasn’t revealed anything about Jon yet. But we know that Rhaegar anticipates a child who embodies ‘the song of ice and fire’, and you cannot associate Dany with ice. Dany IS fire.)

I think Jon probably already has Lightbringer, and it’s Longclaw - we see that Ghost is tied in with the red of it all, and who is atop the sword but Ghost. Valyrian steel obviously also has some fantastical role still to play, and it’s notable that Jaime envisions he and Brienne also wielding flaming Valyrian swords (their flames are blue, of course, and Jaime doesn’t know in the dream that the blades are Valyrian, but the point stands that there’s some connection between flaming swords and Valyrian steel going on, and that that all ties to TLN).

So all that’s really left is to wake dragons from stone. This is one where I can’t really guess what it’ll mean - my best guess is that Jon will find dragonsteel at Dragonstone, because even if he did somehow hatch further dragons they’d be damn babies for the duration of the Long Night, but really this part could point to something we can’t yet guess at, so whatever.

And finally, there’s Jon’s heritage. The Targaryens are tied to the wielding of fire, to Valyrian steel, and to dragons. The Starks are tied to winter, to the Wall, to the old gods and the North. Jon’s heritage is representative of the two forces that need to unite to overcome the Others.

I don’t want to get into how exactly Jon ties into the mythos of the Night King and what undead Jon might look like, because whilst there’s plenty in there that no doubt ALSO supports the prophecy, I freely admit I just haven’t looked into it all that much bc it’s not a passion point for me, so I'm not going to seriously try. But we do have this part from Benerro's prophecy:

death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her [referring to Dany as TPTWP] cause shall be reborn... ADWD, TYRION VI

You can make this really figurative to get it to work for Dany, but it would make a lot more sense for Jon. He'll rise from the dead (death itself will bend the knee) and 'all those who die fighting in [TPTWP's] cause shall be reborn' - hey just like the Others are. Is Jon somehow going to have his own army of the undead? Possibly.

So, cumulatively:

Jon will unite ice and fire, armoured in ice and wielding a flaming sword

Jon’s Stark and Targaryen heritage are figuratively significant

Rhaegar foresaw the significance of Jon. Rhaegar has been wrong in a lot in all senses of the word, but I think he’s going to be right on this point - on ONE fucking point

Jon will be reborn a day after winter comes

Jon will be reborn beneath a bleeding red star

Plenty of scope for salt and smoke to be involved

Jon will wield a flaming red sword

Jon will be on the ground as darkness approaches and lead the charge against it

Jon will make death bend the knee

Jon may lead an army of the 'reborn'

Melisandre is the POV with the greatest fixation on the Azor Ahai prophecy, and Melisandre is beginning to realise the significance of Jon + will be responsible for bringing him back

Jon is the Secret Third Thing

etc etc

And finally, bc I’ve seen many, many heated arguments over this, I want to establish some things myself before signing off:

I am engaging in good faith here. I have come to these conclusions through reading the books and considering all sides, and think this is a very legitimate reading of the text

This resolution to the prophecy is not something I am invested in. Jon hardly makes my top 20 characters in ASOIAF, and Azor Ahai is not a prophecy I crave an answer for. I’m a lot more interested the southern storylines (in case you couldn't tell)

Dany, meanwhile, is a character I like about five times as much as I like Jon. I’ve not reached the conclusion I have because I think she’s not capable of being AA (currently, I think she’s a whole lot more capable than Jon). I’m only judging based on where I think the story and evidence gestures

I agree that there’s potentially problematic subtext in introducing Dany, a young girl who subverts the typical ‘chosen boy’ narrative by fighting every adversity to be a hero for the ages, [edit - forgot the other half of the sentence orz] only to say actually nah it was special boy Jon all along. It’s difficult to say exactly how egregious I’m going to find it when that comes to be because I don’t have the material to judge, but I fully understand why people find the idea of Jon Snow as AA such a deeply frustrating idea, and I may well share in that frustration when it comes to it

Again: I’m engaging in good faith, so if you want to discuss, please afford me the same. We are discussing a fantasy series

#ask #jon snow #azor ahai #asoiaf #melisandre of asshai

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honeydippedwaffles · 1 year

Text

Request: Our Intertwined Fates

Request Information: A set of possibly two or three parts surrounding one my mutual's favourite, non-companion characters in the game: Rolan. This in a look at how Rolan and Tav's relationship builds over the course of the story from a friendship to something more.

Tav is not referred to by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.1k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

The scent of rust mingled awfully with the flowering bushes surrounding the grove. Something felt wrong about strolling into such a place with goblin blood still drying on her armour and the cling of an abduction over her shoulders.

She did so regardless, muscles strung tight from a battle nearly lost and an argument she could scarcely defuse. Who knew helping somebody out would cause such trouble.

“We’re off to a great start,” she said to nobody in particular. “Barely free of some wretched pod and already we’re wrapped up in another conflict.”

Her companions and her had crashed into this isolated area of coastline just the very morning they stumbled into this grove. How they’d managed to get themselves involved in whatever impossible argument was occurring between tieflings and druids escaped her understanding.

“This really isn’t our business,” she admitted to them when they looked at her. “But I suppose if we’re going there anyway, the least we can do is talk to the head druid? It won’t do any harm.”

She lied to herself like that sometimes.

If somebody asked her for help, she’d never been able to turn them down. Offering her assistance felt negligible in the grand scheme of things and this conflict really seemed to have a solution she could find. It would help also, to have the grove’s knowledge on her side.

Those excuses really didn’t feel genuine when the threat of a tadpole behind her eyes lingered.

Yet despite having it in mind, when she overheard an argument, she couldn’t help herself but stop to listen. The trio of tieflings sounded so irritated with one another as they fought about whether they should remain with the group or forge their own path to the city. A fight they’d clearly gone over before if the exasperation said anything.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we don’t even know these people. I’m not sticking my neck out for every person we come across. With my magic, we have nothing to fear about the path to Baldur’s Gate as long as we leave now.”

“Just because we don’t know them doesn’t mean we should abandon them here. What use are all our spells and blades if we don’t even use them to help people.”

She listened curiously, not planning on interjecting but also wondering about the goal of Baldur’s Gate. Some things unfortunately rarely changed and she couldn’t help but worry for this group. “Does Baldur’s Gate welcome tieflings at all?”

Her question directed itself at nobody in particular and yet, she must have spoken loud enough for them to hear as the three all turned to her with various expressions of disinterest or appreciation. She shifted uncomfortably beneath their gazes and smiled to show she hadn’t meant to get involved.

“More so than other cities,” one of the tieflings answered. “Perhaps they’ll stare but nobody will pull a blade out. It doesn’t really matter either way because I’ll be welcomed. You’re speaking to the recently accepted apprentice of the great wizard Lorroakan.”

Tall, haughty, and certainly pretty enough to be a wizard rather than a fighter, she could tell he had a great deal of trust in what he said.

Maybe even too much.

Lorroakan sounded familiar but she couldn’t place why it felt wrong. A wizard certainly but not one whose name carried very good rumours alongside it. She could share what she knew but to do so felt wrong and so she smiled.

“Congratulations,” she urged. “You must certainly be very talented to earn yourself such a grand apprenticeship.”

“I assure you, I am.”

“Then it sounds as though your help could be invaluable to these people who are blessed with neither magic nor fighting skill.” Her gaze drifted to where children and others attempted to spar with sloppily created training dummies. “Honestly, I believe they’ll need all the help they can get.”

He frowned; caught in the small trap she’d created through his own confidence. She felt a little bad for taking advantage of his arrogance but she hadn’t been lying when she commented on the tieflings.

They probably wouldn’t survive a day against the goblins.

“That’s what I’ve been saying. We have to stay and help.”

The wizard looked between her and the others before he threw his hands up in agitation. “Fine but if we end up rotting on a road because of this, it’ll all be your fault.”

He stormed off and she glanced awkwardly at the others. Perhaps she had overestimated their skills but she doubted their chances even more if they split from the group and tried to do it alone.

But if they died, the weight would never lift from her shoulders.

“Thank you for intervening. Rolan can get obnoxiously stubborn at times but he’s a good person. He’d have regretted choosing to leave later.”

She laughed awkwardly, unsure how to respond beyond offering her name as a means of introduction before hurrying off. They had so many problems to face, far more dangerous than even taking on a slew of unending goblins. Such a thing could wait until after the worm got removed.

One poisoning later and another child rescued and they took on the very task she’d tried to avoid, regardless of Astarion’s unimpressed complaints about it.

They ended up fighting through a, quite frankly, impossible number of goblins after rescuing a massive druid from the dungeons. Followed it with a battle against shadow druids who were disguising themselves as rats. And then still ended up standing exhausted at a party with the blood not fully washed from her hair.

As tired as she was, she couldn’t skulk away into her tent so early into the night. Everybody wanted to speak to her and she was now avoiding Lae’zel as best she could after the gith caught her off-guard with the strangest proposition she’d ever heard. Flattered, but uninterested, she looked around for help and eventually caught Lia’s eyes.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Rolan’s going to put on a show for us,” Lia told her, excited and a little teasing. She, like many of the others, appeared a little tipsy as she gestured to her brother. “Watch.”

“Patience,” Rolan chided. “You have no respect for showmanship.”

“Performance issues,” Cal whispered to her and she laughed behind a palm despite the wizard’s glare.

After all the near misses with fireballs through the day though… well, she really hoped whatever magic he wanted to use involved snow or water. Anything she didn’t have to dodge.

He surprised her pleasantly with neither and the small cascade of dancing lights lit up the sky in pretty shades of blue. She’d seen children do similar magic when first learning of their abilities and it never failed to make her smile.

“He can also make them purple,” Cal told her proudly.

She politely clapped and tried to keep her expression supportive of the tiefling trio. Rolan had skill enough to make something of himself in Baldur’s Gate… if his tutor held up to his expectations.

And, of course, the group had to get there first but she had faith. Zevlor, if nobody else, looked well equipped to shield his group from danger.

“You’ll do brilliantly with the proper training,” she complimented when she noticed Rolan’s gaze hover over her for a second longer. “You can ask Gale about some spare scrolls we found while exploring. They may come in use during your travels.”

Rolan straightened his spine beneath the praise, pleased with his successful show. “I have no need for scrolls but I thank you for the offer.”

She laughed and raised her glass to him. “If you say so. The offer still stands.”

She bid the three siblings good luck with their further travel and stepped away to clear her head, finally seeing an opportunity to seek peace and quiet. The shadows provided some solace as she made her way into the forest.

When she came across a small clearing, she settled on a log. It had been a long day filled with unending waves of enemies and her eyes felt heavier than ever.

She’d almost drifted off when she heard footsteps behind her. Footsteps, clumsy and unused to stalking through the dark. At least she knew it not to be an assassin, she imagined.

Although she’d expected Karlach or Gale rather than the tiefling she saw.

“Rolan?” she asked, confused as to why the wizard had followed her and now hovered uncomfortably at the edge of the clearing.

“Lia made a very good point,” he said, straightening imaginary creases from his robes as he spoke. “Scrolls could be useful if we get into a situation where my magic is lacking.”

She frowned for a second before she remembered her offer and waved back at the party with a smile. “Oh, right. Those are with Gale or one of the others. I don’t know what spells they have but any magic is useful, right?”

“Obviously but they’re mainly for Lia’s peace of mind. I don’t think we’ll have any problems when I have my thunderwave to handle threats.”

She smiled. “I’m sure. Make certain to aim for the nearest cliff.”

A wince followed as she remembered shoving a goblin from one of the rafters earlier in the day. She hadn’t appreciated the crunch of bones or the smear of blood… she hadn’t cleared out a goblin camp before the day and it really didn’t suit her.

“With any hope, you’ll have no need of spells at all,” she said. “I think the path to Baldur’s Gate should be open.”

“If it wasn’t, I don’t think they’d be singing your praises so highly,” he scoffed.

He took a few seconds to place the strange jealousy in his voice as not related to handling the goblin camp but rather the heroism of it. Strange, she’d never thought of a battle as something to be envious of. She certainly left with a great deal of pain in her ribs to show for it and little else.

“Something wrong?” she asked, fixing him with a soft gaze.

Rolan shrugged but she noticed the way his tail flicked, irritated, back and forth. He watched everything besides herself, not truly meeting her eyes as he gazed around the clearing.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just hoping you haven’t given my siblings any ridiculous notions about going off and being a hero. They’re not the type to walk through a goblin camp with no problem.”

She smiled, understanding his concerns. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. It’s not about being a hero, it’s about giving help where it’s needed and… I suppose it was selfish too. I needed a healer and Halsin was my only option.”

“A healer?” he repeated, gaze lingering over her bruises. “Did he manage to fix whatever’s wrong with you?”

Her heart thudded a little and her stomach sank. He hadn’t been able to do anything for her. Halsin pointed her in a direction and promised to help but he couldn’t remove the tadpole from her head. Every day, she ended up closer than ever to becoming a creature from her worst nightmares and she could do nothing.

Honestly, it may have contributed more to her mood surrounding the party than the actual exhaustion had.

“No, then?” Rolan asked.

She shook her head and tried to shake free of the worries. “Unfortunately, my condition goes a bit beyond his talents but he did give me a way forward. We’re heading toward Moonrise Towers to look for answers.”

‘You don’t sound confident.”

“It’s hard to be sometimes,” she admitted. “But I don’t really have much of a choice in what I do next.”

He coughed, a little awkward as he shifted his weight from side to side. “Well, I mean you’re clearly more than capable of handling things. I’m sure getting to wherever will be easy enough for your little group of heroes.”

She laughed at the unexpected and strange praise. “Thank you, Rolan.”

He nodded and seemed about to turn around and leave so she stood and the movement momentarily froze him. She leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to cheek in thanks.

“You’re going to do great with your studies,” she said. “I’ll be sure to brag to everyone I know once your name becomes renowned.”

Somebody once told her tieflings couldn’t blush but she swore she saw colour darken the tops of his cheeks even in the dim light of the forest.

Taglist: @miwn8

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan/tav

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