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#genuinely might be an impossible choice
adventure-showdown · 10 months
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What is your favourite Doctor Who story?
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ROUND 2 MASTERPOST
synopses and propaganda under the cut
Flatline
Synopsis
Separated from the Doctor, Clara discovers a new menace from another dimension.
But how do you hide when even the walls are no protection? With people to save and the Doctor trapped, Clara comes up against an enemy that exists beyond human perception.
Propaganda no propaganda submitted
The Return of Doctor Mysterio
Synopsis
The Twelfth Doctor once more faces off with an alien species that wishes to conquer the planet: the Harmony Shoal. This time, however, he has more backup than usual, and with a little twist: a real-life superhero called the Ghost.
Propaganda no propaganda submitted
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quietwingsinthesky · 6 months
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you ever just think about. “You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more.” you ever just. oh, they made him and they discarded him. it’s never going to be quiet again for him, and that’s just collateral. they let the sound rot through his whole life, his whole timeline. because that’s the kind of easy sacrifice you can make when you want to save yourself above everything else, one that doesn’t ask anything of you. you dig open a child’s mind and you bury your survival inside him and when he follows the noise back home, when he does exactly what you groomed him for, you call him ruined for it. that’s. you ever just think about that.
#it’s genuinely such a horrifying sixkening thing that they unveil. what was done to the master.#and it’s like. it’s so important that he is awful. he really is. but he still does not deserve to have had this done to him.#the drums are a tragedy that cannot. would not. be a punishment earned no matter how terrible he is.#they’re such a violation of his mind. isolating and constant and violent. and it drives me insane that this is just. in the show. okay cool#ill never be normal again.#they literally pulled his head open. during a ceremony that we. as far as i know. have to assume is not exactly voluntary. and is at the#best of times. already traumatic and horrifying. but they went into that moment and they put the drums in his head and they made him into#something repulsive to them. because they did that to him! in this thing alone the master had no agency and no way out and this thing that#was done *to* him is what makes him. to them. a broken thing now past its usefulness now that he’s done what they wanted him to.#sorry im rotating him in my head again and again. this is the thing that makes him ‘diseased’. it’s that they chose to do this to him. there#is nothing he could do to not be this. he was a child and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. he’s an adult and he’s#doing the impossible exactly like they shaped him to do and he can’t stop this from having happened to him. so he might as well follow the#drums. and then. and then rassilon calls him diseased. and im going to. lose it.#there was nothing he could have done…………..#everywhere else he has choices to make and he can burn the world and keep it as a toy and he can fuck with the doctor and he can do.#anything. anything he wants. but he can’t. there’s nothing he can do to make it stop. there’s nothing he can do to make it so this never#happened to him. and i am spinning in circles here do u see why he makes me insane.#and the doctor doesn’t even really fucking believe him that the drums are real until the master makes him listen……. oh im going to be ill.#doctor who#simm!master#the master
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aethernightmare · 6 months
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#i'll be real i've been feeling some kind of way this week and needed this reminder.#the refusal by him to go to therapy is also a conscious choice.#the refusal to at least attempt to get sober is a conscious choice.#the refusal to still pin blame on you when you're not the addict and you didn't lie or cheat in the relationship is a choice.#the refusal to improve any area of their life (job - therapy - medication - better friends - an apology to those they hurt) is a choice.#so much of what i mourn is that my partner was genuinely a different person before the substance abuse.#i don't know who this current man is but it feels like a stranger who murdered my husband and stole his body.#because the man i loved might as well be dead. i don't even see glimmers of him anymore. not towards me or other people.#there's no comparison anywhere. not even in appearance.#i can't even know if he'd go back to the way he was if he got sober - because it was impossible to get him to quit more than 3 days.#if it wasn't alcohol it was weed. if it wasn't weed it was alcohol. often blended with days of not logging off mmos.#like none of these things in a vacuum are bad but his relationship to them at the expense of everyone and everything else was.#to this day he thinks i 'left him' when -in an inebriated rage - he told me to never talk to him again. so i haven't.#when he was the one who burned our bridges - so it's also his responsibility to improve and reach back out. even just as friends.#which he said he'd do - but never has.#he may not even remember some of the awful things he said and did to me at the end because he was always getting blackout intoxicated.#but as a result he thinks i was the one gaslighting Him when his memory was full of holes. because he thinks he's above being that affected#he probably thinks i'm manipulative for wanting him to get help and do these things.#but if he actually went to therapy (and was honest) or attend AA he'd see these are the professional steps - not ones i 'randomly made up'.#idk. some days are harder than others to deal with the absence and the silence and the trauma he left behind. today is one of the hard ones#a letter to my ex
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Mc accidently got splashed with a (obsessive) "love potion" and she falls in giddy love with first person she lays her eyes on.
All she wants to do is give them kisses and hugs...and yea she also is clingy and she follows them around even duuring class. She is ready to do anything for her "love" ( like whatever they ask of her) she wants them to be happy . She is convinced that they are dating and it's honestly pointless to try and explain things to her.
How would Azul, Jamil, Malleus, Duece and Floyd hanndle the situation/what's their reaction? ( they were not dating before ) 
Azul Ashengrotto:
Azul was doomed by yet another situation he couldn’t see himself out of. He hardly knows how to handle you normally, or rather how to handle his feelings for you, but you’re much harder when you’re like this. Having you clinging to his side and demanding his attention made it impossible for him to concentrate, and feelings be damned he wasn’t going to let his business suffer. Since Jade and Floyd refused to escort you from his office (finding Azul’s flustered face and inability to actually push you away the best comedy bit they’d seen in years) he ordered them to instead find a cure for the nightmarish love potion that ailed you. They do agree but take longer than they need to, wanting Azul to endure his torturous thoughts a bit longer.
Deuce Spade:
You have poor Deuce stressed OUT. He’s too worried about your well-being to hear any of Ace’s teasing, also focused on keeping his lips covered in case of another surprise attack. He wouldn’t mind under normal circumstances but this doesn’t feel genuine (and he had a much more romantic first kiss in mind for the two of you). He boldly confided in his seniors about you in hopes of them helping with a solution, tightly holding your hand to keep you at bay. He’s willing to go to any length to cure you, even if he’d miss the closeness.
Floyd Leech:
Floyd is willing to milk this situation for all that it’s worth. He particularly enjoyed the squeezing contest you had, and how tightly you clung to him even after he clearly won. He would have loved to keep you all to himself, using your condition to get out of working at Mostro Lounge as it would be hard to cook with you attached to him like you were. Jade is surprised with how long Floyd indulged your clingy behavior, even when he seemed fed up, he knew if he really wanted to push you away and lock you up so you’d leave him alone, he would do it.
Jamil Viper:
Jamil would have used you for all you were worth if he didn’t have feelings for you. He’s frustrated that yet another responsibility was thrust upon him, but turning his back on you was not a choice under these circumstances. It makes it hard to go about his day when he has two different people bothering him all day, but you proved to be the bigger challenge (for now). If he could concentrate he’d have an easier time of finding a solution but there was a part of him that longed for you to continue to worship him, curious how much of this might mirror your relationship if you ended up dating.
Malleus Draconia:
You had always been more honest with Malleus than others, but this was certainly new. As much as he enjoyed your emboldened behavior it didn’t take him long to detect something was off, leaving him conflicted. He wouldn’t mind having a close relationship like this with you, maybe some more boundaries discussed for the sake of Sebek’s heart and everyone else's eardrums, but he was disappointed to know this wasn’t you acting on ‘real’ feelings. He’s even more suspicious about how and why you were splashed with such a potion to begin with, growing rather possessive at the concept of someone trying to steal your heart away from him.
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luveline · 20 days
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i'm missing coworker!james so much... is he doing okay?
James is poorly :( fem
James is a cruel kind of ill. Desperate to escape the dreaded ‘man flu’, he tries hard to portray the common cold. Doesn’t whine, groan or moan, simply suffers the near constant sneezing and his twinging neck without comment. 
Luckily, he has two —two! because you like him enough to be concerned! barely!— nice deskmates who ply him with tea and worry alike. 
“Did you take that antihistamine?” Remus asks. 
“I did, yeah. You watched me take it an hour ago and try as I might, I haven’t regurgitated it yet.” 
“Don’t be disgusting, he’s just worried,” you say. 
A month ago, you might’ve said it with deep, genuine ire. James annoys you and his choice of imagery is hardly workplace appropriate, but for some reason you’re good to him lately. You’re softening, and why shouldn’t you be? James is a boy worth softening for. 
He sneezes hard into a tissue in his palm and knocks the desk, sending his small crowd of figurines skittering, their light green bodies scuffed with scratches. They fall over each day. You like rearranging them. 
You also like feeding James biscuits, and pretending you don’t like him. Or maybe pretending you do. It’s hard to tell what’s real. 
“Jesus,” he says, forgetting to be demure as he drops his forehead against his closed fist. “I can’t take it much longer.” 
“You need to calm down, is all. Every time you sneeze you trigger the inflammation in your nose, which makes you more likely to sneeze again,” Remus says. He doesn’t sound particularly pitying, but he does then stand to grab James’ mug as he heads to the kitchen. 
In an office made up of mostly Brits, it’s extremely common for everyone to make one another a tea or coffee when they get one for themselves, but it’s a sweet gesture for Remus to keep James topped up nonetheless. It also provides for moments like this: you and him alone. Not awkward anymore. 
“Do you have painkillers?” he asks.
You open the drawer of your desk and offer him your pouch. “Here.” 
Inside are many things. A box of lil-lets, plasters in sterile wrappings, throat soothers, ibuprofen, a treasure trove of cures for little ailments. 
“Just, help yourself to anything you want.” 
“You’re an angel.” James unveils a shiny purple chocolate bar. “I can have Freddie?”
“Freddo,” you correct. “Come on, James, it’s on the packet.” 
He doesn’t truly want it. He doubts he could taste it, and he drops it back in. 
“Oh, no, you can have it!” you say, softer. “I’m just being pedantic.” 
“Thanks, but I don’t think I can do chocolate right now.” 
“Right, um… well, I have a sandwich?” 
“What kind of sandwich?” he asks. 
“One of those impossible BLT’s. But I can get you a proper sandwich, James. They have those sesame seed rolls in the vending machine.” 
James doesn’t understand why you’re being so nice to him. “I must look awful,” he murmurs, letting his aching, pulsing head drop onto the desk. He sniffs uselessly. Fuck, he hates work. Why can’t he go home?
“You never look awful,” you say. 
James turns his face to see you’ve lowered your own, resting your cheek in your hand, your knuckles grazing the table. 
“You’re being too nice to me. I’m dying.” 
“You’re the one who’s mean to me, James. I’m your unwilling victim.”
“As opposed to being my willing victim.” James hates being ill, his lips are dry and his throat feels sharp and he’s changed his mind, he does want the Freddo. “Please be nice to me again.” 
“You know what’s good for this? Nasal spray. That’ll fix you.” 
“You could fix me,” James says. You don’t answer. He presses his nose to the table. “My days are always good ones when you can't be bothered to pretend you don’t like me.” 
“Who says I’m pretending?” 
James whines. “That’s worse.” 
You tease a bit of his hair behind his ear. James is content to let you, content to never move again, balmed by the softness of your touch as you draw along the outline of his ear to his jaw. “Don’t press your glasses into your nose, you’ll start sneezing again,” you whisper. 
James refuses to move. “Stroke my hair,” he demands.
“No way.”
“You’re no fun.”
“But I’m having a much better day than you are.” 
He sulks. This is exactly why James hides your stuff and leaves you off of email chains you should probably be in. You’re horrible, awful, evil, with no sympathy for him and no friendliness, either. James was far better off when he was solely annoyed at you, and not whatever useless state of being this is where his mood depends on your willingness to make friends. If James could, he would—
“Are you okay?” you say, your voice as soft as your fingertip where it traces slowly through his curly hair. “Maybe you should go home and rest. I’m worried about you…” 
James might fall in love with you if you keep whispering sweet stuff like that. You hesitate at the nape of his neck before dragging your hand up through a tuft of curls. 
“If you don’t get better soon, your voice will go and I’ll have to talk to Lang and Co. on the phone again. You know I hate their finance team leader,” you finish. 
You sound so pretty that James almost misses your slight. Then decides he’ll allow it as long as you keep stroking his hair.  —
coworker james au
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tomsparkyr · 4 months
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𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓
*✧・゚: *✧・゚
summary: y/n is on her world tour and sings a surprise song that might be dedicated to someone …
oscar piastri x fem!reader
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You paced around backstage, twirling your hair with your fingers and going over every step and lyric in your head. Despite it being your 48th show on your world tour, this one felt more intense, more pressuring, purely because you knew he was in the crowd.
You were brought out of your thoughts by a light tap on your shoulder, causing you to snap your head around to the perpetrator.
Oscar Piastri’s wide smile adorned his face and caused a familiar feeling of butterflies to swarm your stomach; reaching your arms up and wrapping them around Ocsar’s shoulders.
He quickly caught into your embrace and cradled the back of your head, kissing your temple. “You’ll do great, I know you will.” He whispered, his free hand running down the embroidered bodysuit that hugged your figure. His brow raised at the beautiful sight of you and couldn’t wait to take the outfit back home.
You heard the crew call your name so you backed away from your boyfriend, “I’ll see you after, I love you.” He bumped his nose with yours, “I love you too.”
He leaned down to kiss your lips and sighed into you, your hands reaching into his hair. You pulled back, “Ok, Osc I really have to go.” He pulled you back in by your waist.
“They can wait.” He mumbled, “They’ve paid and sat in this boiling weather to see me, you see me every day, Osc!” You laughed as he reluctantly let go, “I’ll bring the orange bodysuit home if you let me go now.” He quickly dropped his hands off your waist and skipped back to his VIP tent, hearing your laughter as he disappeared further from you.
*✧・゚: *✧・゚
Rumour spread pretty quickly that a Formula 1 Driver was spotted in the VIP tent of your concert. But fans didn’t think much of it, rather traded friendship bracelets with him and took blurry, grainy photos of him for fan pages.
However, fan’s perception changed as you sat down in front of your piano for the surprise songs.
“Hello Sydney!” You laughed into the microphone, hearing the Aussie crowd erupt in cheers and hollers at the song of their hometown. “I hope you’re all enjoying the show!” The reaction from the crowd was enough to tell you that they seemed to be more than happy with it.
You cleared your throat, taking a subtle glance to the VIP tent as you saw a bright orange cap catch your attention. You smiled at his direction, knowing his would return it despite you not being able to see his face.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, Sydney…” You couldn’t help your broad smile lighten up your face at the screams from fans at the barricade.
“The song I’m going to play you is one I haven’t done before… it’s one of my favourites and it means the a lot to me and …others.”
The crowd got impossibly louder, “Here we go…” You adjusted the microphone and looked down at the piano, smiling to yourself and you played the first notes.
None of the fans had clocked onto which song you were playing yet, which made it much more enjoyable for you; taking a deep breath as you sang the first lyric.
“My love was a cruel as the cities I lived in”
Fans began screaming and so many flashes of people filming appeared, people crying and jumping up and down at the song choice.
“I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you”
Your red cheeks and genuine smile was pure and making the fans go wild.
Oscar stood in the VIP tent with a smile and blushing cheeks, swaying to your voice knowing he wrote this song with you. He mouthed the lyrics in time with you and looked at you with heart eyes; a pure look of raw, scream-it-from-the-rooftops love.
“I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight”
You peered over to the VIP tent and saw his orange cap moving along to the beat, the same colour matching the dress that covered your shoulders as of now.
It took the fans a moment for them to realise what was going on, connecting the dots; the love song, the interview, the colour of your dress, the colour Oscar Piastri sports, why Oscar was there, the blush on both of your cheeks.
Holy shit. Y/N Y/L/N and Oscar Piastri were in love.
“I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden”
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yourusername just posted!
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liked by landonorris, taylorswift and 12,392,392 others
yourusername all the love songs were about u, my lover🧡
tagged: oscarpiastri
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silantryoo · 6 months
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baek harin x reader
WARNINGS ; TRIGGER WARNING! heavy manipulation, love bombing, possessiveness, gaslighting, physical and emotional abuse, spoilers up to episode 8 of pyramid game
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your thoughts ran wild.
harin probably already knew. somehow, she always figured out what you were thinking, as if you were an open book. she could tell your worries and your fears by glancing at you.
you did well. you knew that she would be proud of you, but still...
you shook your head. now wasn't the time to be nervous.
smoke wafted around the baekyeon heiress as you approached her, her eyes drifting in the distance. in her hand, a cigarette, laced with gold and stuffed with toxins that harin always seemed to indulge herself in.
her head tilted towards you, a dull sparkle in her eye.
"so?"
her voice was monotone, carrying out a sense of boredom that she only showed to a few others.
you watched her in all her beauty, the curls of the fog shaping the area around her. the heiress was stunning, and it always took you a couple seconds to reel yourself back to reality.
harin rolled her eyes as she approached you, tapping the side of her smoke as a warning.
instinctively, you straightened, your eyes wide as she smiled.
there was something so addictive about frightening you, something that was true genuine fear laced with an undying loyalty. you were impossible to replicate, a faithful dog waiting by her bedside.
you took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke through your nose. "i got ambushed by jaeun, suji, and them."
"i thought so." another puff of smoke exited her mouth. "did they mention anything?"
anything else?
you bit your tongue, your face ridden with guilt.
you were tired of the game, tired of getting hurt. as much as you yearned for harin's happiness, the exhaustion was getting to you. you just wanted one day to yourself, without eunbyeol and harin breathing down your back.
"no."
harin's eyes hardened, her gaze trained on you like a hawk. her pupils took in the sight; your quivering mouth, your avoidant stare...
she smiled.
"why don't i believe you?" harin clicked her tongue, pointing the end of her smoke near your cheek. "is it because you're lying to me?"
she knew. how did she know?
"no, i just..."
("join us.")
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you never questioned why class 1-5 were in the middle of nowhere.
the building was nice, decorated with marble columns and sleek white paint. the washrooms were clean, close by, and rarely messy except for the occasional tissue lying on the ground.
it felt as if you were purposely isolated, the twenty-four other girls in your class being the only ones in reach.
sometimes, you even forgot other classes existed.
"harin's a fucking bitch."
you paused. kim dayeon?
a girl like her wouldn't be caught dead in the library. there was no reason for her to be here, much less talk shit about the heiress of the entire school.
you kept your mouth shut as your thoughts wandered to the girl in question.
baek harin.
pretty, intelligent, soft-spoken. from what you've seen, all those things were right. you were always too shy to approach her, your thoughts clouded by the beauty that she held. from what you heard from others, she was the embodiment of niceness, going out of her way to lend others money with nothing in return (yet).
why would dayeon even say these things about her?
"god, you think she's all high and mighty." dayeon muttered, her feet shuffling as she paced back and forth. "that psycho probably wants us to worship the ground she walks on."
psycho? baek harin wasn't a psycho.
"a hierarchy game?" dayeon could already see it in her head. she had no choice but to agree at that moment, wanting to spare herself from her father later that day, but when harin had mentioned it... "is she demented?"
"pyramid game, dayeon." seo doah. that made sense as to why dayeon was here. "if you're gonna insult it, at least name it properly."
"shut it."
"you might also wanna check if anyone else is in the library." your throat ran dry as doah stood up, staring at you across the room. "right, y/n?"
you shot up, your eyes wide as dayeon stared at you. there was something in her eyes that was unfamiliar.
fear? what was she scared of? surely, it wasn't harin.
"um..."
"fuck." your eyes widened at her words. never in your life would you have thought that the eccentric kim dayeon would swear like a sailor. "don't you dare say shit, you understand me?"
you shook your head, your body stiff. "i won't-"
"you don't know what the fuck is at risk here." dayeon's anger roared throughout the library, her fist shaking. dayeon wouldn't hit you... right? "open your mouth and i'll stitch it shut."
you nodded, trembling as you packed your things to leave.
"jeez, dayeon..." doah shook her head.
you stood up, your bag half open, and your textbooks barely inside. in your arms, you gathered everything that you could, arms shaking as you rushed out the room.
a spark of fear lighted up inside you when you saw daeyeon fingernails imbed themselves into the soft skin of her palm. the crescents swelled a bright red, and you knew that she wasn't joking.
she was gonna hurt you. was she gonna hurt harin as well?
you needed to get out of here, maybe even tell harin how insane and dangerous her friend seemed.
how was that even possible? how could someone like dayeon hold a rage inside themselves like that? you could understand it from that suck up, wooyi, but dayeon?
you stumbled slightly as you turned the corner, the books nearly falling out of your bag as you collided with someone. a strong, sculpted hand grabbed your elbow, electricity shooting up your arm.
that feeling...
"is something wrong?"
her breath smelt faintly of nicotine, her perfume - one you assumed cost at least a couple hundred dollars - blocking the scent enough to not register in your brain.
you bit your tongue. "no..."
"you can tell me, y/n-ah." your heart leaped at her words, a cloud of affection and care seemingly coating them. "i don't bite."
harin's smile seemed so soft and elegant, like the status she so desperately upheld. her eyes gleamed gently (and if you looked any closer, void of life) as her cheeks dusted in a costly blush.
don't snitch. you thought as her worried gaze peered into your soul. why should i protect dayeon?
you bit your tongue, your chest bursting with guilt at the thought of dayeon laying a finger on the heiress in front of you.
"dayeon..." you whisper as an eyebrow on her pretty face raised. "she, um, she might hurt you."
you waited for harin's face to shift into worry, into fear, into a normal reaction. you waited for her lips to part and ask 'why?', to ponder what your words truly meant.
instead, she laughed, as if the thought of dayeon hurting her was a part of some greco-roman comedy and not a tragedy.
harin let go of your arm, moving your hair out of your face as your eyebrows furrowed.
"so i'm guess you heard about my game as well?"
you nod. you had forgotten that those threats had stemmed from some game dayeon had mentioned.
a hierarchy game... a pyramid game.
"what do you think about it?" harin's eyes shone in a playful demeanor, full of curiosity and excitement. you couldn't fathom why or how she wasn't worried. "doesn't it sound fun?"
the air shifted around you as her irises seemed to blacken. a heavy burden settled on your chest as she face twitched into a smile, and you felt compelled - forced - to agree.
"it does," you chuckled awkwardly. "i guess."
a soft hum escaped her mouth, her eyes glancing at your face, taking in the fear that had shifted from dayeon to her. behind your eyes, she saw something... something exciting.
the heiress smiled.
"i hope you're in 'a' with me." you had no idea what she meant, but the thought of being near baek harin made the room spin. "it'll be lonely without you."
she stepped beside you, a gentle touch on your shoulder. her breath wafted close to your ear as she spoke with a stiff voice, one you wouldn't recognize as harin's.
"thanks for the heads up about dayeon." you shivered, a cool line shooting up your spine. "i'll deal with her."
she walked away as a deep pit in your stomach emerged.
deal with her?
you gripped your books tighter as you listened to the fading footsteps, and the soft "hello, can i speak to mr. kim? it's harin." in the distance.
you didn't know why, but somehow, you made the wrong decision.
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you were never scared of blood.
it was a liquid that flowed inside you and every person's body, just like how water seeped from the sky and into the ground. blood was a natural process, nothing more and nothing less.
but when you saw that knife, drenched from your classmate's fresh wound...
you shivered at the thought, while harin's soft hands fiddled with a strand of your hair.
"do you feel bad for her?" harin's smile never disappeared, not since the game started. it didn't disappear when crimson dripped onto the floor, either. "woori?"
her lifeless eyes bore into yours, jolts of electricity and fire rising throughout your fingertips and cheeks. her hand, close enough to feel your breath, paused as the rest of harin's body stilled.
all of her stopped, as if so curious about your thoughts that each cell of hers had to still.
"you can be honest." her breath laced in nicotine once more, her perfume no longer covering the overwhelming scent. "i wanna know."
woori was an 'f'.
being an 'a' yourself, you had the right to torture her, to manipulate and ridicule her.
you never did, leaving it up to dayeon to do whatever she pleased with her. part of you still felt bad for what happened earlier in the year, and each time you blinked, you remembered the heavy-handed bruises left on dayeon's face the day after you had told harin about the library incident.
you understood woori, though. the mental toll it must've taken, being bullied throughout the day, months on end without another student looking your way. telling the teachers only resulted in a beating at best, and at worst...
your eyes clenched tightly as your brain replayed that video.
"a little..."
harin chuckled, pulling her hand away and fishing out a cigarette.
"you saw her cut jaeun up." harin muttered through her smoke, her delicate fingers wrapped around the golden band.
you remember the marble on the classroom floor stained red in a way that you didn't think it would.
blood wasn't scary. fear was.
"i did."
"and you still feel bad." harin inhaled, smoke leaving her nostrils as she looked you up and down. "interesting..."
as of late, harin had been smoking around you more and more often. whether it be behind the shed or simply just the two of you in the library, clouds of smoke seemed to follow her, and in turn, you.
the first time it had happened, you had coughed violently, taken off guard as the heiress smiled. your tears were exciting to her, much like your overwhelming sense of loyalty clashing with your morality.
she had never met anyone who was so inwardly conflicted.
"did she really drop out, harin-ah?"
harin blinked, standing up from her chair as she snubbed the end of her cig on some random book cover in front of her. she threw the smoke onto the floor, grinding it with her heel. her eyes were cold, and dark, and you knew that you had messed up again.
you didn't cough this time around. she had no reason to be mad.
the heiress gathered her belongings, sparing not a single glance your way.
"y/n?"
your heart skipped a beat.
"yeah?"
"my name's harin." she glanced at you, unamused. "don't call me that again."
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seong suji.
the girl was nice, a little naive to the happenings of class 2-5. you could tell from a mile away that the girl wanted to stay low and let time pass its course, but you knew better than anyone that she had a target on her back.
everyone's attention had been on her from the moment whispers spread about a new girl transferring into the class. the moment she stepped into the room, you watched as harin's eyes lit up, and a fire blazed inside you.
you didn't know whether it was guilt or jealousy.
"are you stupid?" harin clenched her teeth as she hovered over you, her eyes hardening like coals under pressure. "telling the new girl about my game?"
suji didn't hear the predators hiding in the tall grass. she didn't see their eyes, nor did she notice their bloodlust-filled gazes, but she felt it, and there were only two people in her mind who seemed to lack the barbarity that lingered in the empty halls of the complex.
"look at me!"
your eyes snapped to harin's, anger exuding from her lips as puffs of smoke filled the air and ashes fell onto the ground.
you winced.
"harin..." you had never seen this side of her, not directed at you. you had always watched from the distance as opposed to being the target. "i just thought-"
"did you?" harin's lips curled in a way that could only be described as disbelief, your utter incompetence boggling her mind. "or are you just as stupid as your dropout brother?"
you winced, the low blow winding your self-esteem.
"she looked confused." you tried your best to reason with an iron wall. "i didn't want her to feel like-"
harin's eyes widened, and her usual curiosity morphed into an unfiltered rage.
"like who? woori? jaeun?" she exhaled another cloud, your face getting covered in smoke as you struggled to breath. "you're so fucking stupid."
you felt the heiress lean closer, the tip of the cigarette centimeters away from your cheek.
"i'm sorry."
"you're sorry?" harin could feel her blood boiling. everything was ruined. "i had a plan. you ruined it for me. you ruined my game, y/n."
you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sharp words and the blanket of burden that harin enveloped you with.
you just wished harin would go back to being curious and playful, and leave you ignorant to the fact that deep down, she was the monster dayeon had implied many months ago.
with a weak voice, you tried to reason. "i didn't mean to..."
"you didn't-" harin backed away, ripping the smoke from her lips and into her fingertips. "give me your hand."
your eyes widened.
"harin-"
she grabbed your wrist with a surprising amount of strength. her nails dug into your arm, your teeth grinding together at the dull pain. the heat of the cigarette hovered over your palm as you struggled to pull back, and you couldn't help but choke out a strangled gasp.
"harin, wait-"
the smell of flesh burning invaded your senses as your arm shook from the pain. lightning seemed to replace your veins, as a fire replaced your blood. your vision fuzzed, the tears in your eyes falling down your chin.
harin glanced at you, a small smile replacing her grimace. you were always so pretty when you were in pain.
"remember this." she threw her smoke onto the ground, her grip on your wrist tightening. "you mess with my game, you upset me. you don't want that to happen again, do you?"
the last thing you wanted was to see harin frown in your direction.
"no."
harin smiled, glancing at how your lips quivered and how your eyes held an intoxicating mixture of fear and want. quietly, she wiped a tear with her free hand, chuckling as you flinched at her touch.
"then stay away from seong suji." she leaned in, her voice soft except for the threatening undertone. "if i see you even look at her without my permission, i'll make your life hell."
her grip loosened, harin's eyes softening as she looked at you with what seemed to be worry and understanding.
"i..." you blinked, agreeing like an obedient dog. even now, you couldn't help but wonder which harin was the real harin, but all you knew was that you didn't want to disappoint her. "i understand."
harin sighed, glancing at the burn in your hand with contempt. "i don't like doing this to you."
you paused, your face brightening as the smell of tobacco stuck to your blazer.
"you don't?"
harin smiled. it was like catching a mouse in a well placed trap. you were predictable and easy to please. a couple right words and you'd be under her spell all over again.
"you think i do?" the heiress frowned, biting her tongue.
she loved it.
"no..."
with a giggle, she took your wrist, much more gently than before.
"let's get you patched up."
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harin liked putting on lipgloss around you.
she liked the way your eyes darted to her mouth for a split second before they looked anywhere else in the room. the redness of your cheeks delighted her in the sense that she knew that no matter what, you'd be stuck under her thumb.
you were her stupid, little puppet. your strings strong and unwavering, and your heart tainted with a loved one that you thought she didn't see.
it was adorable, like a puppy chasing its own tail, or a whale, no longer strong enough to go up for air.
harin liked to send you on mindless errands.
it was a good way to keep you in check, much better than instilling fear. she could sense that someone like you liked to feel needed, even if it's something as simple as fetching her more of her favorite brand of smokes or picking up items that she used for bribery.
it gave her a good laugh when you would come back, beaming as if you accomplished something when in reality, one of her maids could have easily done the same.
you were none the wiser, currently on your way to getting her more coffee (well, to get doah coffee per harin's demand).
you were just about to leave the campus, but a strong yet gentle hand yanked you aside, dragging you out of sight from the windows of the complex.
"sorry, y/n-ah."
you tried to shake her off, but she was too strong.
"jaeun, let go." why was she doing this? more importantly, why was she taking you to the nearby convenience store. "i can't be talking to you. you know that."
jaeun stopped, and you thought that she had finally gotten tired of you complaining so much. instead, you looked at the scene in front of you, two girls sitting in the shade of a foldable umbrella.
harin was gonna burn you alive.
"harin's pet?" jaehyeong shook her head, staring at the taller girl beside you. "jaeun-ie, are you sick? do you have a fever?"
you frowned. you weren't 'harin's pet'. so what if you liked being around her?
"she's nice." jaeun muttered, ushering you to the other girls. you tried to turn away, but she moved you in such a way that you couldn't escape. "she helped suji out."
"that was a mistake."
suji raised an eyebrow. she didn't know what was wrong with you. how could someone change so much in a matter of two months?
her eyes wandered your figure, stopping at the burns that littered your right hand.
oh. that makes sense.
"hey, y/n-ah."
"yerim?" you turned around, your jaw hanging open as the trainee sat with the girls, sipping on a can of coffee. you glanced at her phone, watching as she scrolled through eunjeong's instagram. "what the hell is going on?"
you looked around, their eyes glancing at suji with hesitation.
"you're not gonna convince her, suji." yerim shook her head.
being in rank 'a' herself, she knew firsthand how you followed every word harin said. she could tell from a mile away what it was, yerim herself victim to the feeling with a certain swimmer.
but there was a difference between the two of you, one that could prove to be detrimental.
you needed someone to follow, while she didn't.
"i can." suji glanced at your hand again. "i know i can."
"convince me?"
you felt a lump in your throat, praying that somehow, in some way, harin would come barging in and save you from whatever was going on here.
you took a deep breath, and sensing danger was near, gripped your wrist for safety.
jaeun frowned.
"i was serious about bringing down the game, y/n."
the pyramid game.
that stupid game that harin focused all her energy into, hellbent on keeping the perfect hierarchy intact. the one where you watched your classmates get beaten to a pulp, bloody and broken to the point of mental disarray.
you had never spoken it out loud, but you were tired of it, watching everyone you know either do the hurting or get hurt (most times both).
but this was harin's game, and you'd rather hurt yourself than upset the girl you loved.
"harin'll be pissed."
yerim chuckled, a knowing smile on her face. she didn't expect anything less from you.
"aren't you?" suji glanced at your hand, one you held for dear life, as if you were afraid it would get burned again. "after everything you've done for her, she still burns you."
you frowned.
harin did it with good reason. she needed to keep you in line, to keep you from lashing out. she did this to you because, unlike wooyi or dayeon, she trusted you enough to understand.
harin did it out of the pureness of her heart.
"that was an accident."
"an accident?" suji could feel your doubt starting to seep through. that was enough for her, to see the light beyond the cracks of your love. "hurting you multiple times the same way was an accident?"
was it an accident? it had to be, otherwise, harin was just hurting you to hurt you.
you shook the thought out of your head, missing the way the girls looked at each other, satisfied.
"what do you want, seong suji?"
there was a beat in the air.
"join us."
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she knew. how did she know?
"no, i just..."
you liked harin, even when she suffocated you with her smoke, staining your white shirt with the ash of her cigarettes. her eyes wandered yours routinely, and it felt as if she was trying to dig deep as if she needed you.
"i figured out a way to get to them."
harin's eyes sparkled. she would have never thought that you, docile and timid, would ever think of something other than her and school.
it was... exhilarating.
"sim eunjeong." you rattled out a breath, your eyes clenching at the very thought of what you were doing. "yerim... likes her more than we think."
the heiress laughed, the excitement in her chest bursting at the thought of you ignoring your morals just to please her and only her.
she leaned close to you, her face in front of yours as she moved a single lock of hair behind your ear. shivers ran up your spine.
"do you feel bad, y/n-ah?" harin hadn't felt this happy in a while. "ratting them out to me must be so heavy on your consciousness."
she looked you up and down, your eyes avoiding hers. your cheeks were tinged in red, and the guilt written all over your face didn't help the giddiness that was starting to overtake her.
"you're fun, y/n."
you'd do anything for her, even when she hurt you. even when everyone screamed and yelled at you to leave, ignoring the bright red stop signs.
"i like you."
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> main masterlist.
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meanbossart · 29 days
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Sorta related to the breeding kink stuff between DU Drow and Astarion and other related art you've posted... How do you write all that filthy dialogue? How do you write so good dirty talk? I always struggle so much writing it myself, it always comes out as trite shit from bad porn.
Huh! Not entirely sure how to advise you there. While I'm not into the same things that DU Drow is into, I do "format" his dirty talk in a way that I would find titillating, which might make them seem more genuine. Also, not overthinking your word-choice, repetition, and incorporating some borderline incoherence reflects better how real people practice dirty talking, not to mention writing things that are genuinely embarrassing on purpose because people arent going to be ashamed of acting that way around their partners.
And of course, Dirty Talking is about as personal a preference as these things get. What works for one guy, will do nothing for someone else, and so you should just focus on writing something that is sincere and let it connect with whoever it will, instead of taking on the impossible task of striking the horn-dog chord with everyone who reads your work.
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pastryfication · 13 days
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hii! i was wondering if u could do a fic about leclerc sister and carlos alcaraz once again? maybe they went to see her brothers race? :D
ferrari fan
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pairing: leclerc sister!reader x carlos alcaraz note: had to do this after carlos was spotted in the alpine garage!! haven’t proofread this so i’m sorry if there’s any mistakes i’m sorry!! xx
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sometimes it still feels surreal to be dating carlos—the young tennis superstar who’s swept the world by storm and somehow, amidst his packed schedule of grand slams and training sessions, found time for you. today, though, there’s a clash: carlos has been invited by alpine to the monza grand prix, and while he’s excited, you’re already committed to ferrari for the weekend. monza isn’t just any race—it’s the tifosi’s heart, and it means everything to your brother and the whole team. you’ve grown up surrounded by the red of ferrari, and skipping monza just isn’t an option.
you’re in your hotel room, getting ready for the day, when carlos walks in, holding two paddock passes—one from alpine, one from ferrari. his smile is cheeky, and you already know he’s gearing up for some playful teasing.
“so, ferrari or alpine?” he asks, waving the alpine pass in front of you with a mock-serious expression. “think you can survive a race not in red?”
you laugh, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. “oh, please. monza with alpine? i might get disowned,” you tease back, reaching for the ferrari pass and snatching it from his hand. “besides, if charles sees me in any color that isn’t red, i’m pretty sure he’ll never let me forget it.”
carlos grins, leaning closer, his eyes sparkling with that boyish charm that makes it impossible to resist him. “yeah, but imagine how much fun it would be to wind him up. ‘oh, charles, i’m just here with alpine, no big deal,’” he says, mimicking your voice dramatically, and you both burst into laughter.
“you’re so annoying,” you say, but there’s no heat in it, just affection. “look, if you want to go with alpine, i get it. but i’ve got to be with ferrari. it’s monza.”
he watches you for a moment, the playfulness softening into something warmer. “nah,” he says, his voice softer now, “i’ll go with you. wouldn’t want to miss the chance to see the italian grand prix through your eyes.”
you smile, touched by the gesture. “good choice. plus, you look way better in red,” you add, poking his chest lightly.
before long, you’re both at the circuit, dressed in your ferrari gear, surrounded by the roars of the crowd. you’re in the ferrari garage with charles’s girlfriend, alex, who’s always a comforting presence, and lorenzo and his girlfriend, charlotte. it’s a tight-knit group and carlos fits right in, trading jokes with charles, arthur and lorenzo like he’s been a part of this world forever.
as the race unfolds, cameras catch glimpses of you and carlos in the ferrari garage, cheering, reacting to the twists and turns on track. you’re leaning into carlos’s side, both of you engrossed in the action, and he’s got his arm around you, his other hand gesturing animatedly as he tries to keep up with the fast-paced energy of the pit wall.
you’re filmed laughing with alex during a particularly tense moment, then celebrating together as charles makes a great move on track. lorenzo and charlotte are nearby, sharing smiles and excitement, and the cameras keep circling back to your group, catching every genuine moment of joy. the tifosi love it—they love seeing the leclercs together, your little family surrounded by support, and they’re intrigued by carlos, the tennis champion who’s enthusiastically embraced ferrari red for the day.
social media explodes with clips and photos of the two of you, the shared intrigue between the racing world and tennis world creating a buzz. people can’t get enough of carlos’s easy fit with your family, of the way he stands next to you with that familiar, relaxed confidence, clearly enjoying every second. it’s rare to see him outside of his own sport, and fans are eating it up—there’s something so refreshing about seeing carlos, the world number one, just being a supportive boyfriend at a formula 1 race.
when the race ends, you’re all smiles, swept up in the post-race adrenaline. carlos wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as the cameras catch the moment. you glance up at him, your heart full, and he just grins down at you, both of you perfectly at ease in the whirlwind of it all.
“see?” you say, bumping his hip lightly. “told you monza was the way to go.”
he chuckles, nodding in agreement. “you were right. ferrari suits us.”
and in that moment, surrounded by your brother’s team, your family, and the roar of the ferrari fans, everything feels exactly as it should be.
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max-nico · 5 months
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It's Tails first birthday with Sonic. Sonic estimates the kid is turning about 4, maybe 5 today. They're sitting at a little diner in some middle-of-nowhere town, partially because they don't have the funds for much more, but also because Tails only said he would like to go to a restaurant for his birthday.
It seemed like an odd choice for a kid, Sonic is pretty sure kids usually ask to go to things like amusement parks, or trampoline parks, or... Regular parks. He's not quite sure what kids like outside of parks, so maybe he's overthinking it.
Still, he asks Tails why he would want to go out to eat anyways. It seems like an odd choice for a rambunctious 4 (5?) year old.
"Oh." He mumbles, "Well I dunno what people do for birthdays, but one time I heard people back at the island talkin'bout going to dinner! I thought that's what people are s'posed to do, am I wrong?"
Sonic frowns for a moment, unsure of how to answer his question. It takes a little work to make the words he's looking for bubble up from his throat, still pretty unused to talking more than what's absolutely necessary.
"No, not really. You're-You are supposed to do what you want for your birthday. Whatever you want." Sonic's words drag in all the wrong places, and linger when he chokes on vowels. "Like, go to the park or.. something. Would you want to go to the park?"
Tails thinks for a moment and shakes his head.
"No, you don't play with me at the park, and I wanna spend my birthday with you, Sonic!"
Way to hit a hedgehog in his heart strings, huh? Normally when they're at a park there's other kids, so he lets them entertain themselves while he takes a nap on a nearby bench. He's not playing because he doesn't want to play, he's trying to encourage Tails to make friends. It seems, he may have screwed up somehow, not in any unfixable way though.
Sonic frowns, "If we go to the park I'm happy to play with you. Do you want to go?"
Tails shakes his head again, "I'm hungry."
Sonic laughs.
The diner staff are polite. They all have slow drawls that make it practically impossible for Sonic to actually listen to them, but by Gaia does he try. They just ask general questions; drinks, food, sauce, sides. Things like that. Sonic makes sure to mention Tails birthday as well, and the lady promises to come back with two free cupcakes.
The entire dinner flies by in no time at all. Tails does most of the talking, as usual, but Sonic tries harder to contribute to the conversations and ask engaging questions. Even when the fox starts going on and on about plane parts and upgrades that Sonic can't even begin to pronounce, let alone grasp what they do.
Soon enough, their dessert is out. Sonic has never been big on any types of sweets, so as soon as the happy birthday song the waiters sing is over he slides his cupcake to Tails side of the booth. It's more than worth it, even if he would've wanted the cupcake, because the kids eyes light up like Sonic has just handed him the stars.
"Are you gonna blow out your candle first?" Sonic chuckles, pointing at Tails own still sparking cupcake.
"Well duh!" He sasses, grinning.
"What're you gonna wish for?"
Again, Tails thinks, wrinkling his nose as if this is the most important question he's ever had to answer.
"It has t'be small." He says. "Just in case."
An eyebrow raise is shot Tails' way. "In case of what?"
"Well, the elders at the island always said wishin' comes at a price, that's why I was born with two tails y'see? So it can't be big, just in case, cuz I can't accidentally trade ya'up! You're more important to me than any wish ever!"
Before Sonic can respond, Tails has blown out his candle. The hedgehog's eyes are a little misty, and his nose is a little runny, unbeknownst to the little fox across from him. Never in Sonic's life has he had anyone be so.. so genuine to him. He's so beside himself with fondness he isn't quite sure what to do with it all, he feels so swollen with love he might explode.
Quietly, Sonic asks him what he wished for.
"Your long and pro-prosperous health! That means ya get to stay healthy for a long long time." Tails smiles but his face is deadly determined, as if he's truly trying to will his wish into existence by sheer force of will alone.
Sonic supposes he'll have to wish for the same thing on his birthday, just to make sure they're even.
Heyyyy y'all !! Should I probably wait until Tails actual birthday to post a birthday fic? Maybe. Do I care? Nope !! Come talk to me !! I don't bite I swear !!!
Sonic, in this fic for some reason: do you want to go to the park?
Tails: no I do not
Sonic: Have you ever gone to the park?
Tails: no I have not
Sonic: will you go to the park?
Tails: maybe...
Sonic: when will you go to the park?
Tails:
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silence-burns · 9 months
Text
The Death of Me //part 1
Fandom: Aquaman
Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.
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The sun was blinding, but unfortunately, not enough to make the man standing before you disappear.
“You're in surprisingly good shape for a dead person,” you said.
“And you look terrible for someone supposedly alive,” said Orm.
You shrugged and immediately regretted it. The tight bandages keeping your shoulder in place worked as a poor reminder it was out of commission for the next few weeks.
“How I've missed that princely charm. Piss me off some more and, half-dead or not, I'm gonna kick your ass back into that desert I got it from. It might be the last thing I do, but if I become a ghost, I'll brag about it for eternity.”
Your mood soured further with every minute you remained conscious. Surprises and resurrections, you could deal with, but your ability to be polite left long ago. There were a lot of impolite and certainly unprincely words bubbling in your chest, but they all disappeared when the most magical, impossible, and straight-out-of-fairy-tales thing happened.
Orm, of his own volition, smiled.
The sun was still doing its best to blind your already red and swollen eyes—it failed yet again. You examined the strange occurrence, with the furrowed brows and all the small wrinkles and tiny folds in the skin that usually accompanied a person’s smile looking perfectly normal on his face. It was a genuine smile. You could only blink at him for a moment
“I thought scowling was the only expression you had. Like a factory setting, you know.”
“I'm glad to hear you are as sharp as ever, despite your current shortcomings.”
“Excuse you, I'm in great shape.”
The man in front of you politely didn't argue. It was rather clear from his expression that he had some serious doubts about not only the state of your body, but also about your mental capacity of acknowledging said state, but he made the wise choice of keeping these thoughts to himself.
Wise was your middle name; therefore, you allowed the silence to confirm your words. At the same time, you shifted more of your weight against the doorframe, hoping your grimace came across as menacing rather than painful. Your leg needed a bit of rest, nothing serious. It totally wasn’t almost crushed to pieces a few weeks ago.
The smile on Orm’s face, an expression you could get used to seeing, started to shift into a look of concern as he watched your eyes. You looked away, afraid of how much he could see. Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you inside the house.
It was a pretty house, very spacious, just like old rich men tended to enjoy—which might explain why Batman bought it a long time ago as a safehouse far from any prying eyes, and why he allowed you to occasionally use it as such.
Yet, despite all the initial spaciousness, it was rather easy to clutter if the person living inside had a few cracked bones, general lack of energy to move, and never invited anyone around to see the mess.
Orm raised an eyebrow when he noticed a sofa dragged into the kitchen area and the amount of empty, crushed packaging laying around it. You hated how much could be expressed without saying a word.
“Put me down.”
Your words came out weaker than intended. Orm held you in a bridal carry which put immense pressure on your cracked ribs and sent flashes of pain every time you inhaled. But he was so warm and close that your anger sizzled and faded.
With your head on his shoulder, you had the perfect view of his perfect profile and the perfect frown deepening the wrinkles between his brows.
“So, this is how you live now?” was all he said, in a controlled tone.
“I know you're not deaf and heard me the first time. Put me down. Preferably on my beautiful and completely normal kitchen bed, thank you.”
You sighed with relief once he finally listened. Even though the pressure of his arms around you disappeared, somehow you still felt his warmth, as if it seeped into your battered, bruised flesh. You felt your face getting hot and decided against following that train of thought.
Your heart, for a reason you also chose to ignore, skipped a beat when Orm turned on his heel and walked back to the front door. It took him comparatively less time than when you had to drag your ass to open it a few minutes ago.
But rather than walking outside and disappearing from your life again, Orm only closed the door. And then turned the lock too.
“I don’t like where this is going,” you said, in vain hope that all of this was just a bad dream you'd soon wake up from.
“What a shame,” Orm said with no shame whatsoever in his voice.
“Why are you here? I might be a little late with that question, but I'd still love to know the answer.”
Orm took measured steps to the kitchen table, assessing the seat with the least amount of trash surrounding it, and sat down. He sat upright, posture uncompromised in the face of a backless stool, and folded his hands on the table. How he looked royal surrounded by trash and cold leftovers was beyond you.
“As you have witnessed, thanks to Arthur, after that final battle I got a way out of my old life. I enjoyed it for the most part, and even wandered the surface world for a while. And then I heard about your accident and came to settle my debts.”
“You don't have a debt to me.”
“When I was awaiting sentencing for my crimes, you were the one that took care of me. And not so long ago, you helped Artur break me out of that prison. That alone guarantees my utmost respect.”
“Your debt is paid, you owe me nothing.”
“That's not how it works.”
“I don't need a nurse, especially one who isn’t wearing a sexy costume.”
“I'm afraid that part is not negotiable.”
“Wait.” You squinted, doing your best to focus your thoughts despite a rising migraine. “This cottage is in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest town a few hours on foot and only if you already know the way. And the only people that knew I got… a little roughed up, were those in the Justice League. Did Artur give you a ride here because he felt guilty he didn’t stop that building in Venice from falling on me?”
“Every day I am thankful that I don't know the inner workings of my brother’s mind.”
“So he did.”
You let your head fall back onto the makeshift kitchen-bed. It was too much for you.
You grabbed the pills from your secret under-the-pillow stash of meds and swallowed some painkillers.
“I'm going to kill your brother.”
“May you have more luck than I did. Now, do you even own any clean clothes?”
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nono-bunny · 5 months
Text
Losing my mind because it somehow took me literally until right now to realize that a Zuko and Katara encounter is a part of every season finale of ATLA, like, literally, what the fuck? And all of those are strong jumping off points for fics to boot, like???
"You rise with the moon, I rise with the sun" is like. Such a big deal in the fandom, and while it tends to feature in all kinds of fics, it perfectly encapsulates the enemies phase in the enemies (to friends) to lovers of these two. An unreasonably sexually charged line too, wtf were they on about with that scene if not ship bait?
Fics diverging from the crystal catacombs are like. Such an obvious and natural evolution of that scene- it's the "something awful happens there, but what if it didn't?", I think. It was, in fact, the first fic I went out looking for- was rewatching the show and once again felt the accute disappointment of what could've been, and I wanted to read what could happen if it had. Ultimately I think the show made the right choice there, because Zuko getting what he always wanted and realizing it's all wrong is important, but it did rob us of him being a part of the gaang for longer, and that makes me sad.
Then there's the final agni kai.... Literally how can you watch that one without expecting them to kiss after? Genuinely don't get it, impossible. Peak Zutara. Possibly the single best fight of the show, and undoubtedly the best finale scene. A perfect resolution to the bond between those two- that gets completely thrown away to give Aang his woman shaped prize. Of course it's also a popular jumping off point for plot divergent fics!
Genuinely wild that they have THREE romantic coded finals, and yet they don't even end up together. Kataang and Maiko are barely even a factor in the first two season finals, too! Mai literally doesn't exist in the first, and in the second is very obviously representative of Zuko making a mistake. Literally cannot think of a Kataang scene in the first season finale (but I might just be forgetting? I obviously do not care for that one, lmk if there is one and I'll add it, but me being unable to think of one feels a bit telling given how much I hate those scenes), and the big thing for them in the second one is literally recreating a pose evoking a mother and son relationship, which is a big fat F on the shipping factor if I ever saw one.
"Kataang is baked into the show's DNA"- shut the fuck up, Bryke, and maybe have a look at what you ACTUALLY did with it. This isn't the kind of thing that you can just brush off... Especially because those are all scenes people associate with big emotional plot points of your show, and guess who's doing the heavy lifting there? It's definitely not Aang, that's for sure.
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mononijikayu · 6 months
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tears are getting sober – gojo satoru
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With a heavy heart, Gojo Satoru began to speak, his words a balm for the wounds that still lingered within him. He told you about his life over the past decade, the trials and tribulations he had faced, and the moments of joy that had flickered amidst the darkness. He talks as though you were still here. As though you were still alive. He teases one moment and he laughs about a memory the next. You were never dead to him. Not for one second in these past ten years did he get used to talking about you in the past tense. He thinks his brain can’t ever process the thought. He could never understand it. And he has come to accept it, after all this time. Nothing about it would ever come to be the past. You will always be his present. You will always be his future. He did not doubt that one second.
GENRE: Hidden Inventory Arc - JJK 0, 2006/2007 - 2017;
WARNING/s: Angst, One Sided Romance, Pining, Grief, Mourning, Death, Depiction of Trauma, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Blood, Depiction of Corpses, Depiction of Injury, Reminiscing;
masterlist
listen: tears are getting sober by victoria
note: i've been thinking about this for the past few days and i wrote this while on my online law class. this is the satoru pov of ghost of you!!! enjoy it!!! i hope you have a good day, i love you all!!!
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HE THINKS LOVING SOMEONE IS A TOUGH JOB. As Satoru approached his twenty-eighth year, with the threshold of twenty-nine looming ever closer, he found himself grappling with the complexities of love and human connection. It wasn't that he didn't love others—of course he did. He was a human being, after all, with the same innate desires and needs as anyone else. Love was not just a luxury for him; it was a necessity, an essential part of his existence.
Yet, despite this fundamental longing for love and connection, Satoru couldn't shake the feeling of distance that seemed to separate him from those around him. Even in the company of close friends like Shoko and Yaga-sensei, he couldn't escape the sense of being an outsider, a solitary figure navigating a world that had grown increasingly unfamiliar.
He remembered a time when things had been different, when he had felt more human, more connected to those around him. There had been moments of genuine intimacy and camaraderie, moments when he had been able to express himself freely and without reservation. But as the years passed and the weight of responsibility bore down upon him, those moments grew fewer and farther between, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.
Now, on the cusp of another year, Satoru couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to that sense of connection, that feeling of being truly human. It was a longing that gnawed at him, a yearning for something he feared he might never recapture. And yet, deep down, he held onto the hope that someday, somehow, he would once again find himself among those who understood him, who accepted him for who he truly was.
Because during that time, he had a choice.
Because at the time, he can see Suguru smile.
Because at the time, you were still smiling alive.
There was never a moment when Satoru didn't love you. It was an all-encompassing feeling that seemed to permeate every facet of his being, impossible to ignore or suppress. Even if he had tried, he knew deep down that his love for you would persist, unwavering and unyielding. It was the kind of love that consumed him entirely, the kind that defied reason and logic.
As he reflected on his feelings, Satoru couldn't help but marvel at the power of young love. It was a force unlike any other, capable of transforming even the most mundane moments into something extraordinary. Even now, as he stood on the precipice of adulthood, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you, the center of his universe.
He vividly remembered the day he first laid eyes on you, a moment etched into his memory with startling clarity. It was a day like any other, until it wasn't. Everything changed the instant you walked into his life, your presence casting a vibrant spectrum of colors upon his once monochrome world.
The sight of you, adorned in your dark blue uniform with that bright yellow hoodie, was like a revelation to him. Suddenly, the world seemed to burst into bloom, vibrant and full of life. The delicate petals of chrysanthemums mirrored the rosy hue of your cheeks, while the golden rays of the sun felt warmer when filtered through your radiant smile.
In that moment, the confines of his existence melted away, replaced by a sense of boundless possibility and wonder. The four corners of the room no longer felt suffocating; instead, they expanded to accommodate the enormity of his newfound emotions.
From that day forward, you became his guiding light, his source of inspiration and joy. Every smile, every wave, every word exchanged between you was a testament to the profound connection you both shared. And as Satoru gazed upon you, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the color you had brought into his life, forever altering the course of his destiny.
The mission briefing room was abuzz with excitement as Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you gathered around the table, eagerly awaiting your first assignment as a team. Yaga-sensei had to work hard to stop the gossiping from all of you. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, each of you eager to prove yourselves in the field. Much so, he and Suguru—who realized that they were polar opposites of the other, began to think of each other as the only rivals worth having. Satoru thinks he can one up the guy with the bangs. He could do it properly too.
As the mission details were laid out before you, Satoru couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, his heart racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement. You and Shoko were conversing about how best to provide support and defense while Suguru busied himself with asking Yaga–sensei about the best ways to conduct offense campaigns.
He had been looking forward to this moment ever since he had learned that you would be joining their team, and now that it was finally here, he found himself feeling more determined than ever to make a good impression.
With the mission parameters set, the four of you set out into the night, the cool breeze of autumn stirring the leaves as you made your way through the city streets. The mission itself went off without a hitch, each of you working together seamlessly to accomplish your objectives.
You and Suguru both gained new cursed creatures, which made you quite happy. You like having good friends in these creatures, you said. Somehow it reminded you of Pokemon. He didn’t say anything, he liked Digimon too. But he supposed, if you ask him one day—he’d watch Pokemon for you.
As you made your way back to Jujutsu High, all of you were too exhausted to come discuss any dinner plans. Shoko suggested you guys stop by a convenient store. This is the one of few times Satoru’s ever been to a convenient store.
Before, he had been far more confused than anything else, no one would expect the head of the Gojo Clan to know about the outer world beyond what he’s been told. But now that he has experienced it, he found his way around it. It felt like a comfort, he supposed, that he’s able to do this at all. 
Satoru found himself beside you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Shoko was by the counter, pushing a fake ID with a grin on her face. Suguru was just behind her, his face unimpressed about her rule breaking in order to buy some cigarettes. 
"Hey," Satoru said, his voice soft as he fell into step beside you. "Great job back there. You really held your own out there."
You returned his smile, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at his words. "Thanks, Gojo–kun," you replied, your voice warm with gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without your guidance."
Satoru's heart skipped a beat at your words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the sight of your smile. “You know you don’t have to call me so formally. Aren’t we friends?”
You look up to him again, away from the sandwich section. You blink at him. “Hm?”
“You call Geto and Ieiri by their first names.” 
“And?”
“Why not me?” 
You blink again, and then you laugh at him. He could feel more warmth emit through his body. Your laughter was such a beautiful sound. Far more gorgeous than the temple bells he heard in all his life. You were so beautiful. 
“You could just ask me, you know.” You replied to him, smiling at him. “If that’s what you like, Gojo–kun–”
“Satoru,”
“Satoru–kun,” You corrected yourself, eyeing his happy gaze. “Then you should call me by my name too, you know?”
His lips slowly quivered into a smile, his dark peering shades lowering to reveal his eyes. “You have yourself a deal!”
As you browse the aisles together, you both share your opinions about different types of food. You liked a lot of savory dishes, Satoru loved really sweet things — which you had in common, in a sense. But well, you preferred dark chocolate to his sweet milk choco. You liked matcha and coffee more than you liked choco and strawberry milk.
But you both expressed a good love for mochi ice cream. You told Satoru that you’ve had it since you were a kid and you’ve never looked back since. Satoru’s continually eaten it since he discovered it a couple of months ago.  
You got everything you wanted by then, Satoru insisting he should pay for your basket even though you were arguing with him that you had enough money to cover your expenses. But that had become a bad idea because then Shoko had goaded him with ‘What about us, Satoru?’ followed by Suguru’s lips quivering in a Cheshire grin in the back. Satoru did not care. He thinks he could pay for all your meals for the rest of his life and he would be happy — because you pouted at him that way. And it was adorable.
Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous excitement building within him. As you all walked towards the train station, he started reaching for his own plastic bag as he kept up to your pace. He reached out to grab a box, offering it to you with a small smile. You looked at him as you both stopped for a moment, Shoko and Suguru lost in their conversation as they walked in front of you both.
"I thought you might like these," He said, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “I didn’t know which brand you liked best. But this is my favorite. Consider it a reward for a job well done."
Your orbs shone like stars. “You didn’t have to, Satoru–kun.”
“I bought this for you.”  He tells her, tenderly. “You can enjoy it.”
You accepted the box slowly with a grateful smile, your eyes meeting him as you thanked him. In that moment, Satoru felt his heart swell with affection, the warmth of your smile sending a rush of happiness coursing through him. You opened the box and looked at him and grinned. You pull out one mochi container and give it to him. It was his turn to blink.
“It’s not fun to eat it alone.” You grinned wider, taking one and putting the box inside your plastic bag. You remove it from the container and start munching into the mochi. You looked at him encouragingly. “Go on, Satoru–kun!”
As the two of you made your way back to Jujutsu High, the taste of victory and the sweetness of mochi ice cream lingering on your lips, Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the future. And as he stole glances in your direction, he knew that this was only the beginning of something truly special.
Satoru sat alone in his room, a single mochi resting delicately between his fingers as he stared off into the distance. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside his window and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on his desk. But in the silence, his thoughts were consumed by one thing and one thing only—you.
As he brought the mochi to his lips, his mind wandered to memories of you, your laughter echoing in his ears like a sweet melody. He remembered the way your eyes would light up with joy whenever you indulged in your favorite treat, the happiness radiating from you like a beacon of light in his life.
But now, as he savored the familiar taste of the mochi, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The once sweet flavor seemed to have lost its luster, the simple pleasure of indulging in his favorite snack now tinged with a bitter aftertaste.
With a sigh, Satoru set the mochi aside, his appetite suddenly vanished as he found himself consumed by thoughts of you. He missed the warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way you would brighten up his darkest days with just a simple gesture or word.
Closing his eyes, Satoru allowed himself to bask in the memories of your time together, his heart heavy with longing. He missed you more than words could express, and in that moment, he realized just how much he craved your presence in his life.
As the minutes ticked by, Satoru remained lost in thought, his mind drifting back to the memories of you. And as he sat alone in his room, the taste of the mochi still lingering on his lips, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness gnawing at his heart—a longing for the sweetness of your presence that he feared he may never taste again.
As Satoru reflected on the passage of time, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the days gone by. It had been a decade since you left, yet in his heart, it felt as though it were just yesterday. Time may have marched on, but for him, it would always be 2007—a year etched into his memory like a precious gem.
In his mind's eye, he could still see you as clearly as if you were standing before him, your laughter echoing in his ears and your smile lighting up his world. Despite the years that had passed, he knew that a part of him would always be with you, forever frozen in that moment in time.
And he wasn't alone in his longing. Suguru, too, harbored a deep affection for you, his heartache mirroring Satoru's own. They had both loved you fiercely, with a passion that transcended time and distance. And even now, a decade later, the memories of you still lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what once was and what could have been.
As Satoru gazed out at the world beyond, he couldn't help but wonder if you ever thought of them, if you ever longed for the warmth of their embrace as much as they longed for yours. In his heart, he knew that some bonds were unbreakable, woven together by the threads of love and longing that refused to be severed by the passage of time.
And so, as the years stretched out before him, Satoru held onto the memories of you, cherishing them like precious treasures. For in his heart, he knew that no matter where life took him, a part of him would always belong to you, just as a part of you would always belong to him.
And just as Suguru cursed you back to life,
You left and cursed Satoru back to life too.
He would never love anyone like he loved you.
He lived, just as Suguru does, to remember you.
Because that’s all he could ever truly do.
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HE WAS SURE YOU WERE THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE. As Satoru wrestled with his emotions, a tumultuous storm raged within him, tearing at the seams of his heart with every passing moment. He knew better than to say anything to you, for he believed that you deserved nothing but boundless happiness. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find true happiness with him, knowing the burden of his past and the shadows that loomed over his future.
In his eyes, you were a free spirit, a radiant gem in a world filled with darkness and uncertainty. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing you trapped in the confines of his world, shackled by the political machinations of the clans and the dangers that lurked at every corner. Even if you were to reciprocate his feelings, he feared that you would be sacrificing too much of yourself in the process.
The specter of his father's untimely demise and his mother's constant struggles loomed large in Satoru's mind, a grim reminder of the dangers that surrounded him. He knew that he could protect you, that he was the strongest among them. But he couldn't shake the feeling that you deserved so much more—a life free from the shadows that haunted his own existence.
And so, Satoru resigned himself to loving you from afar, content to cherish you as a friend and companion. He found solace in the knowledge that he could still keep you in his life, even if it meant keeping his own feelings hidden deep within his heart. For him, your happiness was paramount, and if loving you from a distance was the price he had to pay, then so be it.
When you confided in him about your feelings for Suguru, Satoru felt no malice or jealousy in his heart. Instead, he embraced your words with a sense of understanding and acceptance, knowing that your happiness was all that truly mattered. And as he watched you walk away, his heart heavy with unspoken longing, he couldn't help but silently wish for your happiness, even if it meant sacrificing his own.
You four were sent on a mission again — not too much of a hassle, considering it was just a minor deity and no one was injured, which Shoko seemed pleased about. She and Suguru were getting the camp site’s benches ready, so you all could eat dinner together. It was rare to be in such places, so you all decided that this was an opportune moment to eat some of the extra packed meals you brought along.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the tranquil waters of the lake as you and Satoru sat together on the grassy bank, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair. It was a peaceful afternoon, the perfect setting for a heart-to-heart conversation.
As you gazed out at the shimmering water, a sense of nervousness fluttered in your chest, your thoughts consumed by the confession you had been holding onto for so long. Taking a deep breath, you turned to Satoru, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Satoru, there's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice hesitant as you searched for the right words. "I... I think I've fallen in love with Suguru."
Satoru's expression softened at your words, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and understanding. He had suspected as much, yet hearing you say it out loud still came as a shock. But despite the pang of heartache that echoed in his chest, he knew that your happiness was paramount.
"Really?" Satoru replied, his voice gentle as he reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "That's wonderful news, you know? Suguru is a great guy, and I can see why you've fallen for him."
Your heart swelled with gratitude at Satoru's supportive words, a sense of relief washing over you as you realized that you had made the right decision in confiding in him. His encouragement gave you the strength you needed to finally take the next step in your journey.
"Yeah, he really is," you replied, a smile spreading across your face as you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. "I've been thinking about telling him how I feel, and I think today might be the day."
Satoru nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with genuine warmth as he squeezed your shoulder gently. "You should go for it," he encouraged, his voice filled with sincerity. "Life's too short to hold back your feelings. And who knows? Maybe Suguru feels the same way about you."
With Satoru's words of encouragement ringing in your ears, you felt a renewed sense of determination wash over you. Taking a deep breath, you stood up from the grassy bank, ready to seize the moment and finally confess your feelings to Suguru.
"Thanks, Satoru," you said, turning to face him with a grateful smile. "I couldn't have done this without you."
As you walked away, the weight of your confession lingered in the air, casting a shadow over Satoru's heart. He watched you go with a bittersweet smile, his own feelings swirling beneath the surface like a tempestuous sea. Every step you took towards Suguru felt like a dagger through his heart, each moment a painful reminder of what could have been.
But despite the ache in his chest, Satoru knew that he had to push his own feelings aside for the sake of your happiness. He had always been there for you, offering unwavering support and encouragement whenever you needed it. And now, as you embarked on this new chapter of your life, he couldn't bear to let his own pain stand in the way.
So he plastered on a smile, masking the turmoil within as he watched you disappear from view. Deep down, he longed to hold you back, to tell you how he truly felt. But he knew that now wasn't the time—not when your heart was set on someone else.
Instead, Satoru forced himself to focus on the positives, finding solace in the knowledge that you were pursuing your own happiness. He reminded himself that he had played a part in helping you find the courage to confess your feelings to Suguru, and for that, he felt a sense of pride.
But as he turned away from the lake, the ache in his heart remained, a constant reminder of the love he had kept hidden for so long. And though he knew that he would always cherish the memories of your time together, he couldn't help but wonder what could have been if he had been brave enough to confess his own feelings to you.
‘No,’ He thought to himself as he took a deep breath. ‘It’s better this way. There’s no one I trust more than him. Suguru would be good. It’s better this way.’
As Satoru grappled with his inner turmoil, he often sought solace in the mantra that he had no regrets. Yet, as he reflected on the choices he had made, a nagging sense of remorse crept into his heart. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should have told you the truth, should have confessed his feelings before it was too late.
In hindsight, he couldn't help but wonder how things might have been different if he had been brave enough to lay bare his heart to you. Perhaps you would still be alive, by his side, sharing in the joys and sorrows of life together. But now, as he looked back on the past, he knew that dwelling on such thoughts was futile.
It was too late for "what ifs" and regrets now. The past was set in stone, immutable and unchangeable. All he could do was carry the weight of his unspoken feelings and forge ahead, determined to honor your memory in the best way he knew how.
And so, despite the ache in his heart and the burden of his silent regrets, Satoru resolved to live each day to the fullest, cherishing the memories of your time together and carrying your spirit with him wherever he went. For in the end, he knew that dwelling on the past would only serve to hold him back from embracing the future that lay ahead.
You were too far for him to reach and too far for him to love.
You were like that when you were alive and now even in death.
But he thinks he will never love anyone else as he had loved you.
In this life and in the next and the other one after that, it’s only you.
In that next life, he hopes that he could finally tell you everything. 
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HE MEMORIZED EVERY MOMENT HE HAD WITH YOU. As Satoru's mind replayed the harrowing scene of finding you that fateful day, the vivid imagery seared into his memory with agonizing clarity. Your blood, a stark contrast against the dark cavern walls, painted a gruesome picture of the tragedy that had unfolded. It coated the steep stairs, pooling around your lifeless form, a haunting testament to the violence that had taken place.
As Satoru stood frozen amidst the horror of the scene before him, the weight of the moment bore down upon him like a suffocating blanket, threatening to crush him beneath its unbearable heaviness. The sight and smell of your blood, mingled with Riko's, assaulted his senses, leaving him reeling with a nauseating mixture of shock and despair. 
Your blood, brighter than any ruby stone he had ever seen, stained the ground beneath him, a vivid reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded in the depths of the cavern. It coated his shoes, a tangible testament to the violence that had torn through your lives with merciless force.
But amidst the horror, there was a poignant sense of sacrifice and bravery that lingered in the air. You clung to Riko with every last bit of strength and warmth you possessed, a selfless act of protection that spoke volumes of your innate goodness. Satoru had always known you to be a good person, perhaps too good for the cruel and unforgiving world of Jujutsu sorcery. He had feared for your safety, knowing that your tender heart could easily become a target in a world devoid of mercy.
The realization that you had died protecting another, that you had given your life to save someone else, sent a shiver down Satoru's spine. Died. Lived. The words echoed in his mind, their meaning lost in the unfathomable depths of grief and disbelief. They were both past tense, both irrevocably done, leaving him grappling with the unbearable finality of your loss.
In that moment, Satoru felt the overwhelming urge to scream, to lash out against the cruel injustice of it all. But as he stood frozen in place, his body trembling with suppressed emotion, he knew that there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. All he could do was bear witness to the devastating aftermath of your sacrifice, haunted by the knowledge that he had lost you forever.
For Satoru, who had always known himself to be the honored one, a god among men, the scene before him was a brutal awakening. Despite his divinity, he stood immobilized, his mind unable to process the enormity of the loss before him. You lay cold and lifeless, your once bright eyes now devoid of the light that had captivated him so.
As he knelt beside you, his heart heavy with grief, Satoru felt the weight of his own mortality pressing down upon him. In that moment, he shed the facade of godhood, allowing himself to embrace the raw humanity of his emotions. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he mourned the loss of everything good in his life, stolen from him in the blink of an eye.
And as he grieved over your lifeless form, Satoru realized the bitter truth that even his godlike powers were powerless to bring you back from the brink of death. In that moment of profound sorrow, he was just a man, left to mourn the loss of the one he had loved so dearly, forever haunted by the knowledge that he could never bring you back to life.
As the days passed and the reality of your absence settled in, Satoru couldn't help but notice the profound impact your death had on Suguru. It was as if a darkness had descended upon his once bright and vibrant friend, twisting him into something unrecognizable. Satoru watched in horror as Suguru's grief morphed into madness, consuming him with a relentless fury that knew no bounds.
It was Suguru who had led the charge to burn the village to the ground, a devastating act of vengeance fueled by the pain of losing you. And as the flames engulfed the once peaceful streets, Satoru felt a sense of helplessness wash over him, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop the chaos and destruction that Suguru had unleashed.
But perhaps the most haunting moment came when Suguru turned to him, eyes burning with a fierce intensity, and posed a question that would haunt Satoru for years to come. "Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru?" Suguru's voice was like a whisper in the darkness, his words laden with a weight that Satoru could hardly bear. "Or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest?"
It was a question that cut to the core of his identity, forcing Satoru to confront the very essence of who he was. And as he grappled with the weight of Suguru's words, a sense of panic began to claw its way up from the depths of his soul.
In the solitude of his bedroom, Satoru was overcome by a wave of overwhelming emotion, his chest tightening with each labored breath as tears streamed down his face. He cried out for you, his voice choked with anguish and longing, as he reached out for the comfort that could never be found.
In that moment of profound despair, Satoru realized just how deeply he had loved you, and how your absence had left a void in his heart that could never be filled. And as he lay there, trembling and broken, he knew that he would spend the rest of his days haunted by the memory of your loss, forever yearning for the one he could never have again.
The weight of his grief was like an anchor, dragging Satoru down into the depths of despair. With each passing day, the pain of your absence grew more unbearable, a constant reminder of all that he had lost. The thought of leaving to find you crossed his mind more than once, a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating grip of his sorrow. But every time he entertained the idea, he was met with the haunting memory of your eyes, filled with judgment, disapproval, and above all, hurt.
In those moments, Satoru realized that he could never bear to be the cause of your pain. The mere thought of seeing the disappointment in your gaze was enough to send a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of the love and compassion that had always flowed between you. He couldn't bear to imagine you grieving for him, carrying the burden of his loss on your shoulders.
No, Satoru knew that he couldn't allow himself to wallow in self-pity and despair, not when your memory was still so fresh in his mind. He owed it to you to honor your legacy, to live his life in a way that would make you proud. Despite the overwhelming grief that threatened to consume him, he resolved to carry on, to strive for nothing less than your happiness.
For in the end, that was all that truly mattered to him—to see you smiling, to hear your laughter, to know that you were safe and content. And so, with renewed determination, Satoru vowed to carry your memory with him always, a guiding light in the darkness of his grief.
And so as those tears dried each and every day.
Your picture was tucked away in his inner pockets.
He thinks he had to live on, so that you could live on.
He thinks that he stays alive for you, no matter what.
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SATORU THINKS HE REMEMBERS YOU LIKE THIS. On that rare day off, when the usual hustle and bustle of Jujutsu missions seemed to fade into the background, you and Satoru found yourselves with an unexpected opportunity to spend time together. With Suguru and Shoko occupied elsewhere and Haibara and Nanami tied up with their own commitments, it was just the two of you left to fend for yourselves.
As you pleaded with Satoru to accompany you on a day of exploration, he initially feigned reluctance, claiming he had other things to attend to. But your persistence wore down his defenses, and soon enough, he found himself agreeing to join you on your adventure.
Despite his protests, Satoru couldn't deny the excitement that bubbled within him at the prospect of spending the day with you. Your infectious enthusiasm and boundless energy were like magnets, drawing him irresistibly towards you.
Dressed in vibrant pastel hues that seemed to complement your radiant personality, you looked utterly captivating in Satoru's eyes. He couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat at the sight of you, a rush of warmth flooding his chest as he marveled at your beauty.
As you set out together, exploring the nooks and crannies of the world outside the confines of the Jujutsu world, Satoru found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you. Every laugh, every smile, every twinkle in your eye seemed to etch itself into his memory, imprinting itself upon his heart in indelible ink.
Despite the uncertainty and chaos that often defined their lives as Jujutsu sorcerers, in that moment, everything seemed perfect. It was just the two of them, lost in the magic of the day, reveling in each other's company and the simple joy of being alive. And as Satoru watched you, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the precious moments they shared together, and the gift of your presence in his life.
As you and Satoru ventured deeper into the botanical garden, the serenity of the surroundings enveloped you like a comforting embrace. Each step you took seemed to lead you further away from the chaos of the world outside, immersing you in a tranquil oasis of greenery and blossoms.
The air was redolent with the delicate fragrance of flowers in full bloom, their perfumed scents mingling together to create a symphony of olfactory delight. Every inhalation fills your lungs with the sweet perfume of roses, lilies, and jasmine, transporting you to a realm of pure sensory bliss.
Sunlight filtered through the lush canopy overhead, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow upon the verdant foliage below. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze provided a soothing soundtrack to your leisurely stroll, accompanied by the occasional chirp of a distant bird or the soft hum of buzzing insects.
As you meandered along the winding paths, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the beauty that surrounded you. Vibrant bursts of color greeted your eyes at every turn, as though nature itself were putting on a dazzling display just for you.
You reached out to touch the velvety petals of a blooming rose, marveling at the delicate intricacy of its design. Satoru watched you with a fond smile, his own eyes alight with appreciation for the natural splendor that surrounded you.
Together, you continued to explore the botanical garden, each moment filled with a sense of peace and tranquility that seemed to wash away the cares of the world. In this enchanted sanctuary, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor every precious moment spent in each other's company amidst the beauty of nature.
As you strolled hand in hand, Satoru couldn't help but notice the way your eyes lit up with wonder at the sight of each new flower you encountered. He found himself captivated by the joy reflected in your expression, a stark contrast to the darkness that often clouded his own thoughts.
At one point, you paused in front of a bed of sunflowers, your favorite flowers, and exclaimed in delight at their cheerful appearance. Satoru watched you with a fond smile, taking in the way the golden petals seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, illuminated by the warm rays of the sun.
"What is it about sunflowers that you love so much?" he asked, genuinely curious to hear your thoughts. He admired the way your face lit up as you spoke about the flowers, your passion and enthusiasm shining through with every word.
You turned to him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you explained, "Sunflowers always remind me of hope and resilience. No matter how dark things may seem, they always find a way to turn towards the sun, seeking out its warmth and light. I find that incredibly inspiring."
Satoru listened intently, his heart swelling with warmth at the sincerity of your words. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the botanical garden and the company of someone he cherished deeply, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him.
As you continued your leisurely stroll through the garden, Satoru found himself feeling grateful for the simple moments of joy that you brought into his life. In your presence, he felt a glimmer of hope and optimism, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty to be found in the world. And for that, he was truly grateful.
In those ten years, not a day had gone by without Gojo Satoru thinking of you, longing for the warmth of your smile and the gentle touch of your hand. Your absence weighed heavily on his soul, a constant reminder of the void that had been left behind when you departed from this world.
As he stood before your grave, surrounded by a sea of sunflowers swaying in the breeze, Satoru felt a wave of bittersweet nostalgia wash over him. The vibrant blooms seemed to echo the radiant spirit you had embodied in life, their golden petals a testament to the joy and beauty you had brought into his world.
With trembling fingers, Satoru traced the letters of your name etched into the stone, each stroke a silent prayer for your peace and happiness in the afterlife. Though he couldn't bring himself to admit it, a part of him still clung to the hope that somehow, someway, you were still out there, watching over him from afar.
But deep down, Satoru knew the truth. You were gone, forever beyond his reach, and no amount of longing or regret could change that fact. And so, with a heavy heart, he bowed his head in silent reverence, offering up a silent vow to honor your memory for as long as he lived.
In that moment, amidst the sunflowers and the gentle rustle of leaves, Gojo Satoru found solace in the quiet beauty of your final resting place. And as he stood there, lost in his memories. Memories that were dried and gone, leaves that had seen autumn over and over. Memories that had gotten him through the coldest whispers of winter and frostbite.
As Satoru knelt before your grave, he couldn't shake the haunting realization that your soul was bound to this earth, tethered to Suguru by an unbreakable bond of love and guilt. He had messaged Suguru, informing him of your final resting place near Gojo Manor, but he knew deep down that Suguru wouldn't visit you. Not out of lack of care, but out of overwhelming guilt and remorse for the role he played in your tragic demise.
Suguru had loved you too much to let you go, and in his desperation to protect you, he had unwittingly sealed your fate. Your body lay here, beneath the soft earth and sunflower blooms, but your soul was intertwined with Suguru's, trapped in a perpetual cycle of longing and regret. He liked to believe that you split your soul, that somehow you gave him a part of you. To feel that he would not truly be alone. But he knew better than that. He was deluding himself. Still, he did not care. He promised to take care of you. And he would. He’d always take care of you, as he had these past ten years. As he would all his life.
As Satoru gazed upon your grave, a sense of profound sadness washed over him, mingling with the guilt and remorse that weighed heavily on his own heart. He had failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe from harm, and now he was left to mourn your loss in silence. No one truly could love you like he and Suguru had. No one knows this pain other than his best friend. 
"Hey there," he began softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Ten years... feels like a lifetime."
With a heavy heart, Gojo Satoru began to speak, his words a balm for the wounds that still lingered within him. He told you about his life over the past decade, the trials and tribulations he had faced, and the moments of joy that had flickered amidst the darkness. He talks as though you were still here. As though you were still alive. He teases one moment and he laughs about a memory the next. You were never dead to him. Not for one second in these past ten years did he get used to talking about you in the past tense.
He thinks his brain can’t ever process the thought. He could never understand it. And he has come to accept it, after all this time. Nothing about it would ever come to be the past. You will always be his present. You will always be his future. He did not doubt that one second.
"I've been doing my best to honor your memory," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "But it's never easy, you know? Sometimes, it feels like I'm just going through the motions, pretending that everything's okay when it's not."
As he spoke, Satoru's hand reached up to his silk bandages, lifting it away to reveal the vibrant blue eyes that had long been hidden from the world. You have loved his eyes at one point. You told him how they remind you of the blue sky in summer. Yet now that you were gone, he couldn't find it in his heart to let the world witness them again.
For a moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let his guard down and show you the depths of his pain. You were the one person, besides Suguru, that saw every facet of him. Perhaps you will always the the person left in this world, even when you weren't here anymore, that will see such side of him. You were the person he could only ever be so truthful to.
"I miss you," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "Every day, in every way, I miss you. And I wish... I wish I could turn back time, change the course of fate, and bring you back to me. But I know that's not possible."
With a heavy sigh, Satoru replaced his blindfold, shielding his eyes once more from the world. But as he rose to his feet and prepared to leave, a sense of peace settled over him. Though you were gone, your memory would live on in his heart forever, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume him.
"Rest well, my dear," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your headstone. "I'll always be here, watching over you. And I promise... I'll never forget you."
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whitedarkmoonflower · 5 months
Text
Little Seer
Pairing: Sihtric x reader(female) x Finan
Authors note: there was something in the air again 😅 Brainstorming and writing together with the talented and amazing @little-diable is an absolute pleasure. Thank you so much for co-writing this little story with me! 💖💖💖
Warnings: SMUT 18+, a bit of angst, the usual things
Summary: as if being Skade's sister wasn't challenge enough, you are faced with an impossible choice between two warriors, competing over your heart
Word Count: 4,8 K
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You closed your eyes and inhaled the cool, crisp morning air. A fleeting aroma of freshly baked bread wafted toward you, evoking a vivid memory of work-worn hands kneading dough on a high table, so tall that your nose barely reached its surface.
"Go fetch your sister," a soft voice urged, and you giggled as a finger touched your nose, leaving a white flour mark on it.
"Skade, Skade, where are you? Mom is baking bread," you called out cheerfully, your voice ringing through the yard like a bright, joyful stream. Your small feet carried you from one building to the next.
"Shhh, what are you doing? Stop yelling! You just scared all my spirits away," an irritated hiss made you freeze in your tracks as your lively, smiling eyes met two stormy, piercing blue ones. Your face twisted into a mocking grimace as you stuck out your tongue at your sister. Her giggle was soft and sparkling, reminiscent of a tiny bell's chime, as she took your hand and you both skipped joyfully back to the house.
Long before the big wooden gates of Dunholm creaked open to welcome the small traveling party, you had already known she was approaching Dunholm. The runes never lied to you. Bound by the same blood and the same divine gift, your destinies were intricately woven together in a delicate tapestry of love and hate. You knew you couldn’t escape each other and  no matter how hard you tried to defy this fate, you had always failed.
Your palm tightened around the shaft of the Nithstang you had crafted tonight, wet and sticky with the warm blood dripping down your fingers, as you forced your eyes open. Your steps, steady and resolute, carried you to the small paddock across the inner yard, now a makeshift prison.
"Release him!" Your voice, edged with a metallic tone, carried a hint of the anger simmering deep within you. Something stirred in the shadows at the back, and a silhouette began to move closer to the bars. Two familiar, deep pools of dazzling blue met your gaze.
"You know I won't," a challenge danced on the plush lips curved into a smirk. "You should know me better by now, little sis."
"Don't make me use my power against you," you warned, your breath forming small clouds of mist as you spoke, casting a shimmering, translucent veil over your sister's face and giving it a mysterious glow.
"You wouldn't dare," Skade smirked, tilting her head defiantly.
"You leave me no choice," you replied, not with anger but with a surge of resolve. With a loud cry, you swung the Nithstang high into the air, driving it deep into the ground to face the place where your sister was imprisoned.
Your love for her was deeply rooted in every fibre of your being, yet you despised the monster she had become, transformed by power-hungry men who sought to use her for their own ascension. It was this profound care for her, this need to protect her even from herself, that had driven you to carve the ancient runes into the wood under the cover of night. The power of love was stronger than the power of hate, yet your sister, as mighty as she might be, still failed to recognize this simple truth.
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Fear and caution had long been your constant companions, often mingled with respect, but genuine fascination and appeal seldom visited your life. You struggled to suppress your smile as you constantly felt two pairs of eyes almost burning into your back each time when you turned away.
The dark brown eyes exuded warmth, strength, and protectiveness, creating a comforting presence that seemed to envelop you each time you entered the great hall. The peculiar, mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, radiating a sense of possessiveness. They darted around the room, absorbing every detail, as if laying claim to every word you spoke and every move you made.
An Irish-accented voice, rich and booming, reached you near the stream just as you were about to lift the heavy buckets brimming with water. "May I help you?"
"Thank you, that's very kind," you replied with a smile, watching the sturdy, well-built Irishman effortlessly lift your load and nod for you to lead the way.
To break the somewhat awkward silence, you inquired, "How's Lord Uhtred?"
"He's well, thanks to you, lady. On the way here, I had my doubts he'd even make it," the warrior replied, his voice thick with genuine worry and care. The soothing quality of his words made you turn and cast a warm smile back at him while noticing his shoulders straighten and his eyes light up with a friendly glow.
Having seen him spar before, it was clear that beneath his somewhat soft and pappy shell lay a core of steel, marked by agility and resolve.
"Lady, I was looking for you..." greeted a cheerful voice accompanied by a bright smile at the steps before your hut. "I... I was riding out the horses, and there, in the meadow, I thought of you when I saw these," stammered the young, handsome Dane, revealing a bouquet of wildflowers he had been hiding behind his back. His gaze quickly shifted to his feet.
The bouquet was not a mere haphazard cluster; it was artfully arranged—a vibrant swirl of colours with bright yellow flowers at the centre, gently transitioning to soft pink and white ones around the edges, framed by green leaves.
"They are beautiful, thank you so much, Sihtric," you said, your eyes widening in surprise. Your fingers lightly brushed against his as you accepted the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. A muffled scoff from behind made you bury your face deeper into the bouquet to hide your amused smirk upon seeing Finan roll his eyes in annoyance.
"Lady, let me..." Sihtric hurriedly ascended the few steps and swung the door open for you, you stepped inside and Sihtric followed you, letting the door close just before Finan could enter. You turned to him with a surprised smile and, hearing Finan’s disgruntled curse behind the door, Sihtric quickly opened it again to let in the visibly annoyed Irishman.
"Please put the buckets there," you directed, pointing to a wooden bench in the corner while turning to fetch a vase for the flowers from the cupboard.
The sound of shuffling feet and muffled murmurs behind you indicated that both warriors were hesitant to leave. As you turned to face them, Finan spoke first, "I... I placed the buckets on the bench... I..." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting around the room, seemingly searching for something to say.
"Oh, your door is half ajar; it needs fixing," Sihtric suddenly exclaimed. "I'll fetch some tools and be right back."
"You've never held a hammer and nail in your life, you don’t even know what they look like, and now you want to pretend you can fix a door?" Finan scoffed, clearly upset he hadn’t noticed the issue first.
Sihtric hurried off to fetch the tools, leaving Finan behind, still bristling from the earlier mishap and determined not to be outdone by the young Dane. “I can fix that just fine without his help,” Finan muttered, eyeing the slightly ajar door as if it were a direct challenge to his capabilities.
When Sihtric returned, he clumsily carried a bundle of tools wrapped in cloth. Finan was already examining the door, squinting critically. “Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Sihtric announced with a confident swagger, setting the bundle down with a thud.
The two warriors stood side by side, peering at the assortment of tools, which included a couple of misshapen awls and a few worn hammers. “This one looks about right,” Sihtric said, picking up an awl with an uncertain glance.
“That’s not how you hold it, give it here,” Finan scoffed, snatching the tool and holding it upside down. You watched, amused, as they fumbled, each trying to outdo the other with bravado that was clearly unfounded.
“Here, you need to tighten the hinges,” Sihtric suggested.
“No, the alignment’s off. It needs a new hole,” Finan countered, eyeing the frame as if he could will it into compliance.
Sihtric attempted to use a hammer, gently tapping around the hinge as if coaxing it to tighten by itself. Meanwhile, Finan, now wielding an awl, tried to carve a new hole in the wood, his efforts resulting in a crooked and unnecessary indentation.
The result was a door that hung even more awkwardly than before. 
“You know, maybe we should just ask the carpenter in the village,” Sihtric finally conceded, stepping back to examine their handiwork, which looked worse than when they started.
Finan, though reluctant to admit defeat, nodded in agreement. “Let’s just say woodworking isn’t our calling,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.
You couldn’t help but laugh at their earnest but bungled efforts, appreciating the entertainment, if not the craftsmanship. “I think that’s wise,” you agreed, still smiling. “But thank you both for trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?”
Everything went quiet suddenly, with just shy glances and nervous shuffling of feet filling the air. It was getting awkward, but it was obvious neither warrior wanted to leave. The question in their eyes was so clear and so charming that this time, you couldn't help but let a grin slip.
Their fondness for you was apparent, neither attempting to conceal it, as they'd been playfully fighting for your attention for a week now, and you'd be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. The two warriors were as different as fire and water, their contrasting energies sparking against each other with every word and gesture. 
You really appreciated how Finan always looked out for you, always there to lend a hand, careful and attentive. His support was rock solid, his eyes always warm, and he never missed a chance to gently tease you.
Then there was Sihtric, with his wild, spontaneous streak that drew you in just as much. He’d show up at all sorts of odd times with flowers, or suddenly appear at your hut with a huge smile and a basket full of goodies, just because he’d found the perfect spot on a nearby hill to catch the sunset. No matter how tired you were, his laughter and sheer joy were contagious, always managing to sweep you up in another adventure.
Both warriors truly brightened up your life, even helping you momentarily forget the deep worry your sister's presence constantly evoked. As time passed, it was clear Uhtred was committed to his decision to stay with his brother, which only seemed to make the boys more hopeful whenever they looked your way. But what really amazed you was something quite rare, something you hadn’t seen before—even with their ongoing competition for your attention, their friendship didn’t waver—not even a bit.
They were both waiting for you to make a choice between them. And honestly, as much as you wanted to decide, making up your mind just seemed impossible.
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Stars were twinkling in the sky as you rolled your head back, letting the river run through your hair as you took your bath. Darkness wrapped itself around you like a veil, hidden from the drunken men you didn’t want to cross paths with, the nosy fighters who’d give a lot for a good look at your naked frame. 
Your body had ached as you found your way down to the river, desperate for some moments alone, away from the confusion of being close to Sihtric and Finan pushed through you and the confusion your sister managed to push through your veins with every rising of the sun. It was a steady back and forth you should be all too used to by now. 
“Here’s good!” The raspy voice echoed through the air, dripping with his Irish accent while forcing your eyes away from the sky to watch the two men walk closer. For a moment, you didn’t move, letting your curious eyes watch the two as you waited for them to notice you. But Finan and Sihtric kept undressing, not picking up on your closeness just now.
“It’s not very honourable of you to disturb a woman’s bath, now is it?” Humour flushed through you as you spoke the word, chasing the protection the dark water offered. Only your head and throat were visible, hiding the body both Finan and Sihtric had been imagining the past days, chasing highs with their minds solemnly focused on you. 
“Apologies, lady.” SIhtric stumbled over his words, drawing a loud laugh from you as you kept on watching them. 
“Would you mind some company?” It was a bold question the Irishman asked, knowing that this could take an ugly turn. Perhaps it was the mead flushing through your system, perhaps it was the thrilling coldness of the river, whatever it was, it forced your mouth open once again, giving room to your words rolling off your tongue. 
“If you can behave, I wouldn’t mind your company, no.” The hum leaving Finan seemed to snap Sihtric out of his trance, averting his gaze as the two kept undressing. For some more seconds, you allowed yourself to study their muscular frames, a sight that left you trembling with heat pooling between your thighs before you eventually let your eyes wander back up to the sky. 
“It’s a beautiful sight, aye.” Finan’s voice wrapped itself around you as he moved closer, marvelling at the starry sky. Even though you kept your eyes focused on the sky, you couldn’t help but focus on the heat he emanated – a heat that only grew stronger as Sihtric also stepped towards you. “But we are fortunate men, us two, we don’t have to look that far for a beautiful sight.”
The words left you laughing, unable to bite down your smile as you turned towards the two men. Mischief was swimming in their pupils, it seemed as if whatever back-and-forth they had felt between one another had found some end, a compromise perhaps. Whatever it was, it drew them even closer, giving you the chance to pull away before overstepping any boundaries 
“Others may no longer respect your honour if they see you here with us, lady.” Sihtric’s husky voice was about to draw a moan out of you, reminding you of the words you had imagined them to speak as you had chased your high just this morning, thinking of these two warriors now caging you between their bodies. 
“And why is that?” Slowly, you rose, exposing your naked chest to Finan, who was standing in front of you. You felt Sihtric tugging himself against your back, with his tensed abs pressing into your soft skin, with his hardening cock pressed against your behind. An unfamiliar heat took over, guiding your every moment – you were about to slip up, about to give in while your mind was silenced. And for the first time, you were alright with letting go, diving head-first into an adventure you had been dreaming of for days. 
Sihtric’s hands found your waist, keeping you pressed to him as Finan’s warm hand cupped your cheek. You could feel their breaths teasing your skin, making you feel as if you were their sacrifice, one with the fire they were about to toss you into, leaving you trembling and aching – all because of them. 
“Once you lose your honour to us, we won’t let you go again, little lady.” You scoffed at the nickname Finan used for you, a sound that was turned into a moan as Sihtric’s fingers danced down your stomach, finding their way to your pulsing bundle. The moan that clawed through you had nothing human-like to it, torn between a warrior’s cry and an animalistic growl. A sound so sinful, you felt both men chuckle; a chuckle of victory; a chuckle of excitement. 
Tonight you were theirs. Tonight you wouldn’t break free from their grasp. Not tonight. 
“Oh, gods.” The words clawed through you as Sihtric’s fingers began to move in circular motions, rubbing your bundle of nerves just enough to make the hairs at the back of your neck rise. It felt as if you were trapped by some kind of spell, chaining you to these two men who explored your body with their lips. Finan’s beard scratched your skin as he kissed your throat, dipping his head down to find your hardening nipples, all while Sihtric’s teeth teased the spot where your shoulder met your neck. 
“No gods will answer your prayers tonight, pretty lady. For now, you’re ours to play with.” Sihtric’s raspy words were about to push you over the edge, chasing your release without feeling either one of them buried deep inside of you yet. You were desperate for more, torn between different sensations that left you trembling and aching for more. 
“I want you, please.” It was pathetic almost how needy you were, too far in to pick up on the sly grin tugging on Finan’s lips, wordlessly communicating with Sihtric. 
“How do you want us?” Finan’s lips teased yours, not kissing you fully, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But nothing could pull you from these two, not tonight at least. Sihtric tightened his grip on you as you kept quiet, adding more pressure to his moving fingers, toying with your pulsing bundle. 
“Speak when you’re asked to, don’t play any games.” You choked on your gasps at Sihtric’s demanding command, leaving you shuddering between them. 
“Both of you, I don’t care how, I just need you.” Within moments you were shifted around, pressed down on a nearby stone to balance your body as Finan positioned himself behind you. You were close to passing out, letting your racing heart guide you as your glassy eyes wandered down Sihtric’s muscular front, straight to his twitching cock. The Dane positioned himself in front of you, fingers pulling your hair together to draw your mouth closer to him. 
“Who are we to deny a pretty lady’s wish, huh?” Finan pushed into you without another warning, tearing another moan from you that was silenced by Sihtric’s cock. Your mouth engulfed him, lips wrapped around his tip to suck on him. His taste stuck to your tongue, a taste you’d forever remember, just like the feeling of Finan finally fucking you. The Irishman didn’t grant you any mercy, he fucked you as if the Devil himself was chasing him, a sensation so strong your walls kept fluttering around him.
“What a devilish mouth for such a sweet seer.” Sihtric’s praises shot shudders down your spine and drew sounds from you that vibrated on his cock as he pushed further down your throat. You were close to seeing stars, close to letting the darkness that called your name swallow you. Tonight you didn’t care about what may happen to you. Tonight you didn’t care about losing yourself to these two handsome warriors. Tonight you were simply theirs. 
“You feel divine, lady.” Finan groaned his words as he fucked you even deeper, pressed down on the cold stone that would surely leave its marks on your body. This night would leave its bruises on you, bruises you’d forever remember, while silently hoping that they’d leave some more on your body in the upcoming days and weeks. 
Tears ran down your warm cheeks, tears of desperation and lust, drawn from your eyes by the feeling of Sihtric’s cock nudging your throat, by the feeling of Finan’s calloused fingertips rubbing your overstimulated bundle, pushing you over the edge within moments. 
Finan fucked you through your high as Sihtric groaned your name, painting your tongue and cheeks white with his release. You didn’t dare break eye contact with the handsome Dane as you swallowed, not even as you felt Finan stain your behind with his cum. It was a moment so intimate that you were sure neither Finan nor Sihtric could ever forget about it, just like you. 
The three of you were heavily panting as silence wrapped itself around you, drawing a laugh out of you as you rose back to your feet. You couldn’t help but shake your head as you studied the two for another moment, trying to accept what had just happened. 
“What’s so funny, lady?” Finan pulled you against his broad chest, grinning in success as you clung to him, wordlessly telling the two that you weren’t planning on running anytime soon. 
“I’m just happy, I think.” Your eyes wandered towards Sihtric, grinning at the man who looked at you as if you had hung up the stars in the sky yourself, a true masterpiece only a few were fortunate enough to take in. 
“We won’t let you go again, we stay true to our words.” As much as you wanted to give in, to let this dream suck you into its grasp for some more moments, you couldn’t, breaking out of your hazy trance. Carefully you stepped away from Finan to sink back into the cold water, cleaning yourself for one last time that evening. 
“Don’t make any promises, Irishman. You don’t know what’s coming upon us, it will be cruel, guided by my sister’s hands.”
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The clang of weapons and the wild shouts from the crowd echoed off the walls of Dunholm, deafening you with the force of a thunderstorm. You had always been certain of the foolishness and recklessness of men, yet they continued to surprise you.
Your decision to serve Ragnar was based on his ability to listen and consider matters without letting emotions cloud his judgement—a rare trait among men. But this time was different.
Your eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of Skade at the far end of the square. How had you missed it? Distracted by a fuzzy haze of love and admiration, you hadn't noticed the spider spinning its web behind you, the viper weaving its venom into the hearts of men. Now, you were forced to watch as arrogance and false pride shattered the fragile peace you had so carefully helped to nurture.
"Are you satisfied? Do you really think this will bring you anything?" you hissed into Skade's ear.
"I’ve won, little sister. I always win, whatever it takes. There’s no turning back. Uhtred is mine. He will come to rule all Danes and Saxons; he’s been born to lead. I’ve seen that. And I'll rise with him. He's bound to me, and there's nothing you can do about it," she whispered back, her words slicing through you like the sharpest knife, reopening old wounds you had struggled to heal.
“This is no game, Skade. Stop this madness. You’ve gone too far. You took a life that wasn’t yours to claim, just to replace her. This will have consequences, and you know it. Release him and stay here with me. Please, sister,” you pleaded, knowing deep down it was likely futile, but you had to try.
There was a subtle shuffle of feet before your sister finally turned to face you. Your pleading gaze met her icy stare, the chill from her eyes almost freezing your words in midair.
“Did you enjoy the company of those two fools, calling themselves warriors?” she asked coldly, her chin lifting slightly as she tilted her head to the right, scrutinising you through her long lashes. “Tell those two hounds to stay behind, or if they're foolish enough to follow their master, tell them not to interfere with me. You know better than anyone what happens to those who get in my way.”
You couldn’t remember how you got home, the sound of the door, shutting behind you with a loud thud as you slammed your back against the gnarled wood, startling you. You slid down the door to the floor, elbows on your knees, cradling your head in your hands.
Sobs wracked your body, starting quietly and gradually becoming louder and uncontrollable, until you threw back your head, releasing a loud, desperate cry that tore through you. Yes, you knew all too well what happened when someone interfered with your sister. You knew the agony of feeling like your heart was being ripped from your chest, leaving a wound that wouldn't heal, a wound that lingered for years.
She had taken everything from you once, and without a moment’s hesitation, she would do it again. Of that, you were certain.
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"Come with us," Finan urged, his large, rough palm reaching out for yours while his thumb gently traced circles on your skin.
"We will care for you, protect you," Sihtric added, his two-coloured eyes searching for yours, but you stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. You pulled your hands away from Finan’s gentle grip and, needing something to occupy them, began nervously adjusting and straightening your clothes. You shook your head, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. 
"Stay here, both of you, stay with me," you countered, finally lifting your head, your eyes pleading as they moved between Sihtric and Finan.
Silence stretching between you, Finan stepped forward first. He enveloped you in a strong embrace, his arms a fortress that for a brief moment, warded off what was about to come. As he pulled back, his hands cupped your face, and he leaned in to place a tender, lingering kiss on your lips
Sihtric, his expression a complex tapestry of regret and resolve, moved closer. His farewell was quieter, more restrained, as if he feared that any show of passion might crumble his resolve. He took your hands in his, holding them between you both, his gaze finally locking with yours. Slowly, he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them softly, his breath warm against your skin.
Words were superfluous; everything that needed to be said shimmered in the air around you, poignant and bittersweet.
“Be careful. Don’t underestimate my sister,” you finally broke the silence, “She can turn Uhtred against you.”
You saw the disbelief in their eyes and sighed deeply. “You have no idea of what she is capable of. This is just the beginning.”
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376 notes · View notes
just-a-ghost00 · 2 months
Text
What they thought the last time they saw you?
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Decks used : Threads of fate oracle & White Numen tarot. Warning : this reading might be triggering depending on the group you pick.
Group 1
Note : I had to redo this reading because of interferences. When you last met, their might have been other people trying to get your/their attention. I also had to do an unusual type of spread and pick the cards myself instead of shuffling because of these interfering energies. So the context in which you met may have been unusual for you or unpredicted. You or they could have had to change the way they proceed in order to get what you/they wanted.
The Creator, The Pillar, Compassion, Get wild | Knight of swords, 7 of cups rx, ace of swords, 10 of wands
The focus is put more on what they felt than what they thought. And I guess that says a lot about this person. They felt very excited and adventurous. There is a sense of novelty surrounding this meeting. Like this person is taking a new founding step in their journey and they are very optimistic about it. I feel like here we are talking about people that only recently met or whose connection is in the beginning stages. It's more like a crush / new encounter / fresh friendship energy. There might have been a wall or an important structure standing behind this person. Like something that litterally and metaphorically supported them. Right away I am picking up on a stage. Because the image depicted on the Pillar card it reminds me of Paris (Arc de Triomphe) and Italy/Roma (Arch of Titus). If there is maybe one thought that crossed their mind, it was that this moment with you was somewhat magical. They were very grateful, hopeful and beyond amazed by the amount of support and love they felt. It gave them wings and made them want to surpass themselves. But with this feeling of bliss also came a feeling of dread. They felt pressured. Pressured by time and space. Pressured by the passion, by the acts, the words, the people around them. They felt like they were not given a choice or given time to process what was going on. They felt pressured because they didn't know what to think and yet they were expected to have thoughts. They knew that you expected a lot from them and they felt like they were not in a position to honor their duty towards you, to give you proper thought and attention. To communicate clearly how they felt and what they hoped for. Things were going too fast too soon and as much as they loved being with you, they also regret how it went. I was drawn to the depiction of he knight of swords which I mistook for the queen. This knight looks very friendly and charming, and that to me felt unusual. So another thought that might have crossed this person's mind was that your friendliness was suspicious or didn't feel genuine. Maybe because they aren't used to such reactions from other people. They thought it hid something and it made them a little uncomfortable.
Group 2
Note : for this group I felt like picking more cards than the first. I interpret this as them having a lot on their plate. There were a lot of things they regret not doing or not saying. This is them showing that they still care. Then when I started interpreting I felt the urge to cover the cards. They didn't want to see the truth of what was happening.
Ancestors, Speak truth, Death, Sacred sexuality, Reflect | 5 of cups, The Sun, The Tower, The Hanged man, 8 of pentacles
They thought that they were losing something very precious and dear to their heart. And that it is almost impossible for them to get it back unless they work really hard on themselves. We're talking here about people who are in separation and/or in conflict. They realized that you were important to them when it was too late. They thought that had they told you the truth about their family, about their past, potentially about their children, things would have unfolded differently. They thought about telling you they missed you and that losing you would break their heart but they didn't. They were too shocked to speak up. For some people, we're talking about a deceased loved one. There might have been a hidden truth in the family regarding the passing of someone. Possibly a child. That feels like only a small portion of you though. For others, I'm picking up on someone not telling you about their sexual preferences. They didn't have the courage to tell you they couldn't love you the way you hoped because their sexual preferences were different than what you assumed. And as long as they don't regret who they are and what they love, they regret not telling you because they know they betrayed your trust. They thought they ruined your friendship. They though that a time apart from each other was necessary if they wanted to be able to come back into your life. That you would need time to heal and this could only be possible if they weren't a part of your life for a while.
Group 3
Note : for this group I felt the need to shift my position. I was sitting on the ground and I turned my back on the soread. This tells me that one of you has chosen to turn their back on the connection. There was only one card I didn't have to pick. Somehow I think it's relevant to the reading but I don't know what that means.
The Weaver, Soul work, Ancestors, Release | Queen of wands, King of cups, White Numen rx, Queen of cups
"I gave you all and yet you chose to turn your back on me". I heard that very clearly in my head looking at the spread. "There wasn't much to hesitate about. I was right there. It was pretty obvious. You shouldn't have had to pick, just to listen and pay attention". They thought that you were made for each other, destined to be together but you didn't see eye to eye with them on that matter. My skin feels very itchy right now. It's like it didn't feel right for this person to be ignored and chosen over someone else. There could have been several scenarios : some of you could have prefered your family over this person, others you chose another romantic partner over the one that was interested in you. They thought that by chosing a different path, you ruined all chances of this connection to bloom into something beautiful. They truly believed in the potential of what you shared, they were willing to put in the work and they don't understand why you couldn't see it. They're like "everything was written, all conditions were aligned for this to work and yet, you discarded it like it never mattered". For others I feel like you chose your status and career over the connection. They feel like your fame and success mattered more than their feelings or the happiness you could have built together. They thought this situation was unfair. That they have nothing to be blamed for because they know in their heart they did everything in their power to make it work, that they never caused you any wrong. They feel like they were never enough for you or that you didn't like them in the first place.
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wolfjackle-creates · 6 days
Text
I took part in the Demon Twins Who Wrote That game over on the Haunting Heroes DPxDC server and author reveals were today. So now I can finally post the fic I wrote for it!
No Place Left to Hide
Danny is on the run. He wants nothing more than to see his family, but they're out of his reach at the moment. Then he sees a magazine article and accompanying photo of Damian Wayne. His long-lost twin brother. Maybe he does have some family he can check on. Just to spy from a distance, of course. Getting too close would only make his situation worse. But when he gets caught in the halls of Gotham Academy, he might not have a choice in the matter.
AO3 Link
Word Count: 3.1k
Rating: T
Warning: a trans Danny mentions his deadname to Damian
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Danny stared down at Gotham Academy. Damian was just inside those walls. All he’d have to do was go intangible and he’d be able to see his twin for the first time in eight years. The thought made his core ache, a throbbing that echoed in his still-healing injuries.
He was descending before ever consciously making the choice to actually see his brother.
It was stupid. What if Damian caught him? Told Talia, or worse, Ra’s? Then it wouldn’t just be the Fentons and the GIW after him, but also the League of Assassins. And he was already injured.
But he had to see. He hadn’t seen Damian in years. Had lived half his life without his twin at this point.
He should leave. He shouldn’t be here at all.
A moment later, he’d phased through the roof and floated invisibly in the middle of a locker-lined hallway. He allowed gravity to once more take control of him and his feet settled on the linoleum floor.
Now, to find Damian. Just to see him, make sure he was safe. The rest of his family were out of his reach; the GIW was monitoring them too closely for Danny to risk visiting. Or even just check in from a distance. And Danny’s core was demanding he check on his loved ones.
He’d been debating risking a visit to them regardless of the risk when he saw the magazine article: Wayne Boy Volunteers at Animal Shelter. The attached picture brought a smile to Danny’s face. One of the few genuine smiles he’d worn since being forced on the run. In it, Damian was glaring at the camera, but his arms were gentle as he cradled a puppy. Behind him stood Bruce Wayne, grinning widely. In the article, Bruce talked about how proud he was of his youngest son and his big heart. Back when they’d been with the League, Danny had been the only one to know of Damian’s gentleness.
Reading the article, seeing the picture had healed something in Danny. Damian had gotten out. Something he’d thought impossible when he left half a lifetime ago.
And now he was here to confirm it. To check on the twin he’d left behind. Make sure he was healthy and safe and happy. He’d never seen Damian be any of those things before. Not beyond fleeting moments carved out in secret.
Though… He looked around the empty hallway and bit his lip. The school was huge and he had no idea what Damian’s schedule looked like. Where should he even start?
Footsteps echoed down the hall and Danny instinctively moved to the side to let whomever it was pass.
Only to feel a hand grip his shoulder.
Danny just barely kept himself from twisting and throwing a punch at the person. He wasn’t able stop himself from jumping a foot in the air, though. And if he hung in the air a bit longer than gravity should’ve allowed, well, Danny could only hope the person gripping his arm didn’t notice.
“Wayne, why are you in the hallways out of uniform rather than in your class?”
Danny blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked. This guy couldn’t actually have mistaken him for Damian, could he have? They weren’t identical twins. They didn’t even have the same skin tone!
Though Danny did suppose he’d gotten more tanned lately. Being on the run meant he was spending much more time outside than normal and he always did tan pretty well, one thing to thank Talia for he supposed.
The hall monitor rolled his eyes. “Where are you supposed to be right now?”
Danny opened his mouth, then shut it again. Should he disappear? But what if the teacher reported it? Would the GIW come to investigate? Would Damian, growing up around Lazarus pits, ping on their sensors?
He stayed put and he stayed silent.
The teacher sniffed and pulled out his phone. After tapping a bit, he announced, “History with Mr. Binder. I’ll accompany you back and we will be contacting your father about this behavior.”
He grabbed Danny’s shoulder again and marched him through the hallways. Danny allowed it, not sure what else to do. And still so desperate to see his brother.
When they reached what must be Damian’s classroom, the man knocked once, then pushed the door open.
“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Binder. But I found one of your students wandering the hallways.”
Danny had barely glanced inside the classroom when his eyes fell on Damian. Everything else fell away. He didn’t see the other kids, didn’t hear Mr. Binder’s response. All he could see was Damian.
Even sitting, it was clear Damian was taller than Danny. His hair was shorter, his muscles more defined. And he was holding his pencil like it was a dagger he was going to throw through Danny’s throat.
Danny grinned and, speaking a language he’d barely used in eight years, said, “It’s been a long time, brother.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed further, but he kept his posture relaxed. Except for his grip on his pencil. “You’re no brother of mine. Who are you?” asked Damian, also in Arabic.
Danny clutched his hands to his chest. “How could you not remember me?” he wailed. But he couldn’t keep up the feigned offense for more than a second and grinned. “Though, I suppose you did used to call me sister. A lot’s changed in eight years, brother. Liat died in the league; I go by Danny now.”
At Danny’s mention of his deadname, the pencil fell from Damian’s hands. The sound of it hitting the floor was loud in the otherwise silent room. But when Damian spoke, his voice was steady. “Prove it.”
Danny inclined his head in a mock bow. “If you insist,” he said, switching to English. “The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house, all that cold, cold, wet day.”
Damian stood, sending his chair tumbling to the floor. “Enough!”
Danny obediently stopped reciting and grinned at Damian.
Damian hated The Cat in the Hat. Danny had heard it when he’d been sent to a daycare on one of his first missions to slip a child a mild poison that’d leave her sick for a few days and a letter for her father, a man who’d been planning to betray the league.
Danny had fallen in love. He’d smuggled the book out with him when he’d finished his task. The idea of a cat in a hat coming to the league and causing a bit of destruction helped him withstand the endless trainings and trials. Besides, their grandfather and mother deserved it. And Damian just didn’t see.
Though now Danny realized that was because Damian had never been allowed to glimpse what life could be outside the League. Danny, on the other hand, had been trained in spying and infiltration. Which meant he had to understand how kids his age worked and thought and acted. So he had to be around them with some regularity.
What he’d learned was that he wanted their lives, not his own. A lesson he tried, and failed, to teach Damian.
Before either Damian or Danny could think of something to say to each other, the History teacher cleared his throat. “Damian, what is going on here?”
Damian immediately stood to attention, just as Talia had taught him. “I apologize for the intrusion. My… brother came for an unexpected visit. May we be excused to the office so I can call my father?”
“I wasn’t aware you had another sibling your age,” said the teacher with a raised eyebrow.
“He’s from my mother’s side,” said Damian.
Danny hummed. True enough, he supposed. They did share a biological mother. Even if Danny refused to ever acknowledge her as such ever again.
He really didn’t have much luck with mother figures, did he? Maddie had turned out to be just as bad as Talia.
In the end, the teacher really didn’t have a choice but to let them go. Though the hall monitor who had caught Danny insisted on accompanying them all the way to the office despite Damian’s protests that he knew the way.
Danny hid a scowl at the situation. He’d had no intentions of meeting Bruce Wayne and now it looked like he’d either have to reveal his powers and run or meet his biological father. His core ached at the thought of leaving Damian, though. And he couldn’t risk letting Ra’s or Talia find out about his powers.
He ignored the longing he felt at the potential for a true family, for a father who loved him unconditionally. He was zero for three on parental figures. No way was he going to try for a fourth.
“How are you here?” asked Damian in Arabic as they walked.
Danny shrugged and answered in the same language. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be. Saw you in a magazine and figured I’d check in.”
“In a—” Damian cut off with a noise of frustration. “I thought you were dead. Did Mother put you in a pit?”
“As far as I’m aware, both Talia and Ra’s are also under the impression I am dead-dead. Though now that we’ve had contact, I don’t suppose that will last much longer.”
“How did you survive?” demanded Damian.
Danny stared ahead and bit his lip. After a moment, he said, “I did try and take you with me, you know. You were the only thing I regretted leaving behind.”
The resulting silence lasted until they reached the front office. Danny didn’t know how to break it.
They were instructed to sit in plush seats facing the office staff where they could be observed as Damian spoke to their his dad.
Damian pulled out his phone, but before he dialed, asked, “How did you get caught? Have you forgotten all your training?”
Danny didn’t bother to try and hide his blush. He’d been relying on his powers and must’ve let his invisibility drop by mistake. It was just…he’d been on the run for almost two months now. He was hungry and tired and in pain. If Jazz knew, she’d scold him for neglecting himself. He should’ve expected something like this would happen the moment he got distracted.
But how to explain that without explaining everything? “The last few months have been hard,” he settled on. “Due to certain circumstances, I am no longer welcome at the place I’ve called home the last few years and had to leave suddenly. Thus, I am not currently at optimal physical health. I grew careless.”
Damian frowned and looked down at his phone. Rather than answer, he opened his contacts and dialed the one labeled “Father.”
Danny probably should be more cautious. He probably shouldn’t trust Damian. But this was his brother. The only good thing from his early childhood.
And he was so, so tired.
Danny let himself slump against Damian’s side. Damian tensed for just a moment before he relaxed.
“Hello, Father,” said Damian into the phone.
Danny let his eyes drift shut as he listened to Damian’s side of the conversation.
“No. I am well. But there’s been a situation.”
Danny snorted at that description, and Damian pinched his thigh.
“It is not something I can explain over the phone, but I need to be picked up from school. Immediately.”
Bruce Wayne’s voice was just indistinct enough that Danny had a hard time understanding it, though he could hear the worry in it.
“It is a family matter. You will wish to be here quickly as there is a strong possibility we will not have the chance again.”
“Think I’m that good, do you?” huffed Danny under his breath. Damian just pinched him again with a tut.
“Could you stop and pick up a smoothie on your way in? With extra protein powder?”
Danny’s breath caught. Was Damian asking on his behalf? It’d been so long since he’d been around Jazz or his friends. He hadn’t had anyone look out for his wellbeing in months.
He screwed his eyes tight against the burning and focused on keeping his breathing steady.
The rest of Damian’s conversation consisted of stilted goodbyes and promises of explanations once they got home.
Despite his apprehension at meeting Bruce, sitting in a comfortable chair leaning against his brother after months of being on edge was enough for him to slip into a shallow doze. Damian would keep him safe. Whatever disagreements they’d had as children, that had been a constant. Danny was vaguely aware of the office staff talking and making noises. Damian’s shoulder shifted slightly as he did something on his phone. But Danny was more asleep than awake.
Until Damian tensed and shrugged his shoulder. “Father’s here,” he whispered in Arabic.
Danny was instantly awake, though he kept his posture relaxed. Bruce Wayne was someone who had attracted the attention of Talia al Ghul. Whatever face he presented to the public had to be a lie, and Danny didn’t know what to expect from him.
One thing Danny did know, though, was that he refused to go back to who he’d been with the league. The formality was so exhausting. And his very core rebelled at the thought of going back to a life of violence and suffering. He’d left to be a regular American kid, and that was what Bruce Wayne would meet.
Maybe his second death made that life impossible, but while he still had breath in his lungs and a heart that beat, he was going to cling to the dream.
So, rather than follow Damian’s lead and sit up straight and formal, Danny stretched his arms up and yawned loudly. “Ope, sorry for falling asleep there on you Dami,” he said in his strongest Midwestern accent.
Damian shot him a look, but didn’t respond. Still, when he stood, he offered a hand to Danny to help him up as well.
Danny grinned as he took it. Then he took a fortifying breath and turned to face Bruce Wayne, his biological father.
Bruce stared at him, face blank. His eyes lingered on where Danny still clasped Damian’s hand. To his disappointment, Damian let go at the look.
The stern look only lasted seconds before Bruce smiled broadly and his body language became relaxed and open. “You must be a friend of Damian’s! I take it this is for you?” He held out the smoothie for Danny.
Danny hesitated. His stomach ached with hunger, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. This was his biological father.
Damian misunderstood his hesitation and grabbed the smoothie himself. He took a deep swallow and in Arabic said, “It is safe, brother.”
If Danny hadn’t been staring so intently at Bruce, he would’ve missed the small twitch the man made at the word “brother.”
Danny grabbed the smoothie and took a long drink. He couldn’t stop the quiet sigh at the taste. It was the best thing he’d had in weeks. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I’m parked right out front! Let me just sign you both out and we can be on our way.”
“Oh, you just have to sign out Damian. I’m not a student.”
“Well, I suppose that explains the lack of a uniform! How do you know my Damian, then?”
“Father,” hissed Damian. In Arabic he said, “I will explain what I can in the car as I promised.”
Danny just took another sip of his smoothie and remained silent.
Bruce’s eyes flicked to Danny, gaze sharp. But he remained relaxed and ruffled Damian’s hair. “Of course, of course.”
Damian glared at him as he smoothed his hair back down.
Bruce laughed with the office staff and signed the requisite paperwork, then the three were making their way outside.
The car out front was a fancy sports car. Danny hesitated a moment before entering. He glanced down in both directions, but knew a school like this would have too many cameras to hide from.
And now that he had Damian in front of him, he was certain his core would protest if he tried to leave.
Damian made a sharp gesture to him, ordering him into the car. Danny slid in. The door shut behind him. He gripped his smoothie with both hands to mask their shaking and took another sip.
“Father,” started Damian. “This is…” he broke off.
“Yes?” prompted Bruce after a moment.
“This is my twin brother, Danny. Your other biological son.”
Bruce froze. Danny didn’t even think he was breathing. One hand rested on the gear stick where he’d been planning to put the car in drive, the other dug into his own leg.
“What.” Bruce’s voice was hard and flat, not a hint of the jovial man from the office.
“In his defense,” said Danny. “He thought I was his twin sister. And that I was dead.”
Bruce’s eyes closed and he took several deep breaths. “Your name is Danny?”
“Yep.” Danny popped the p. “Chose it myself six years ago.”
“It’s…a good name.”
“Thanks! It was my dad’s dad’s name.”
“Your dad?” asked Bruce.
Danny hummed. “Yeah. Got myself adopted after I ran away from Talia and Ra’s. But that living situation fell through a few months ago.” Which, really, understatement of the century, but Danny wasn’t going to go into it. “So I had to leave. Thought I’d check up on Damian. Mind if I come over to visit after Damian gets out of school for the next few days? I’ve got a hotel room lined up in the city,” he lied. Squatting was way easier when you were half-ghost.
Damian broke in at that. “You will be staying with us, not in some hotel,” he spat the last word. “And not just for a few days. Live with us.”
“Can’t stay more than a few days, I’m afraid.” The GIW or his parents would definitely find him if he did. “But if no one minds, I won’t turn down a room if you’ve got a spare.”
“Father’s house is large,” said Damian. “There are plenty of spare rooms.”
“Damian is right,” said Bruce. “I insist you stay with us. We can discuss more over lunch when we’re comfortable.”
Danny shrugged. “If you insist.” He’d disappear, of course. Too risky to stay and lead the GIW to Damian when he still wasn’t sure of the connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus pits.
Bruce let out a long sigh and put the car in gear. “I do,” was all he said.
Danny watched the scenery go by, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes glued to him.
After several long minutes of uncomfortable silence, Bruce spoke again. “I am glad to meet you, Danny. I’m happy you came to Gotham.”
Danny hummed. He supposed time would tell if any of them would come to regret it.
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Hope you enjoy!
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