#obvious that there are many things seriously wrong with me
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werezmastarbucks · 3 days ago
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12. horseradish behaviour
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flowers over boys masterlist
in which oppa chokes you
word count: 2946
warnings: it's not harder daddy. it's more of a "imma mcquacking kill you because you piss me off so bad" type of choking. :( so tw
you admire the way the magnolia branch looks gilded, too, in the rich light from the lamps.
the room is specifically designed for the late audiences; in the sunlight the intricacies of the paintings aren't as obvious as now, the orange hopping light of the fire highlights the blood on tops of the mountains. it's a beautiful and eerie trick that the threat posed behind the king's back only becomes visible when it's night, that is to say, too late. the columns become blood-red. flowers in one corner you've managed to decorate look sacrificial. you get why he used to keep the shutters closed.
you turn as you hear the door slide closed, and see Yoongi, an inseparable continuation of the room. even though there's no stone, he produces echo as he steps forward once. his presence is in itself a loud sound, even though he is quiet. it's just the fiery persona of his simple black dragon robe and the hair that takes in the fire and becomes liquid gold.
"night owl?" you suggest and step closer to the magnolia branch. suddenly you're shy about the unfinished work. he wasn't supposed to see it only 10% done. reading your movement, his eyes move up to the blood-pink small flowers that will look spring-like and ethereal tomorrow. now they look like an omen.
"i was walking to the chambers when i saw the light in my throne room. so late at night".
"moon isn't even half-way across the sky", you wave it away. Yoongi lifts up his chin a little and you are glad the abilities of him do not include reading minds in literal sense. cause you know that robe is hiding insanely strong shoulders and the muscular back that he could potentially theoretically hypothetically throw you on.
"are you liking the new job?"
"the pay is shit".
"i don't pay you anything".
"exactly".
you shift in place. a week ago you would've barged past him out of the room, because the saw is still lying under the magnolia tree, and a second branch needs to be cut down and brought here, and you start feeling tired already. his eyes never give you any break, and now his tongue joins them, going over his upper lip ponderously.
"you still have something of mine".
to busy yourself with something, you begin gathering small pieces of leaves and sticks from the floor.
"did you know", you croak, sitting yourself on the first step of the platform leading to the royal seat, "that magnolias are so ancient that they already existed at the time when dinosaurs strolled this planet?"
he looks relaxed. not spiteful. although calling him spiteful, even when he was angry, would be wrong. he looks like he isn't about to try to cut, or poke, something out of you. that's it. mildly curious, putting his hands behind his back. he took off the earrings already. but tail looks so neat, like he fixes the state of it every ten minutes.
"dinosaurs".
"i know it's not your fault but it's kinda embarrassing that i get to explain a word to you guys every other day. i mean", you point at his robe, "dragons".
"serpents?"
"yes. it was such a long time ago when magnolia genus appeared, that even bees didn't exist yet to pollinate them. beetles had to do it. that's why the magnolia petals are so meaty and sweet, you can eat them. practically it's fruit".
"the word that you said first sounds Greek. terrible... lizard".
you're seriously impressed. so much that at first you fail to see that he keeps taking steps forward to you.
"how many languages do you know?"
"how many do you know?" suggestive, deep voice. you narrow your eyes.
"you're not getting your knife back. quit sneaking up to me".
"once again you demonstrate knowledge of things far out of the scope of what someone like you should know".
"ugh, and who is..."
"and yet demonstrate the complete lack of understanding of the palace code".
"i know, i know", you pat yourself on the lower back, "i think we were past the informal conversation pearl clutching".
"standing - or sitting - in between the king and his seat is punishable".
you rub your face.
"let me guess. by death?"
"no", he smirks like he is so benevolent, "merely flogging".
your nose feels scratchy.
"i'll pass". this is not the time for innuendos. you almost bite your tongue literally. you want to keep some dignity. but Yoongi takes a step aside, looking around his throne room like he sees it for the first time. the way his tail tilts, it makes you think he's having fun. he steps to the window, curious like a cat, pretending again: he is playing nonchalance so well. what he fetches from a depression in the wall under the window makes you go wide in the eyes.
Joseon Yoongi is threatening you with his stick.
"did you find time to wonder", he utters, intentionally looking everywhere except at you, as you tense up on the first step, assessing the situation, calculating an escape plan.
"why i keep so lenient with you?"
"love at first sight?" you throw it out there, just in case. Yoongi doesn't seem to hear you. pale stick in his hand, twenty inches long, looks like it's going to break skin even through the dress.
"naturally one would think it's my guilt acting up, my consciousness, for killing your father. so, every time i see you, i am reminded of my cruelty for hanging an almost-innocent man".
you note that now he doesn't mess up the manner of murder. it doesn't matter to him anymore.
"that is, if you were really his daughter".
finally he looks at you. the stick points at you shortly, like he is the teacher and you need to start reciting a poem just about now.
"if you touch me with that, i will bite you", you warn him, "i've had just about enough of your senseless violence, including that time you hung my father".
Yoongi drops the act a little, grinning.
"i'm pretty sure he had a son".
"oh".
there are more things to think about, to ask him. but he motions with his funny stick:
"well, get up".
you plant yourself more firmly into the step.
"you will feel very bad after".
"i will feel peaceful".
your throat betrays you and contracts.
"no", you put a hand in between yourself and him with a finality.
"you're not spanking me with this thing. i mean it", your voice turns serious. it's all really fun, kinda hot, but really. being flogged is very painful. if someone so much as had given you a list of rules of this ridiculous palace, at least. sent you a heads up in excel or something. now you keep breaking the order you have no idea about. next thing you know, it's going to be forbidden to sneeze on full moon and the punishment will be Hoseok shaving your hair off.
"you have a way out, of course", he suggests, "tell me who you really are".
"that won't do either".
you put your hand into the depths of the hanbok. had sewn another secret pocket last night. so that the fans of asking to return the knife can't retreive it from the outward one. blade is pressed to your throat now. you stand up, beginning a small semicircle, moving your feet very little and very slowly.
"i think killing yourself will hurt a little more than this", he murmurs like he isn't the raging psychopath here.
"at least it won't be humiliating".
"humiliation is the only path for you", Yoongi concludes.
"so far you've tried only threats. not a single normal conversation with your Majesty". you press the knife to your neck with no intention of slitting it, it's out of the question with the unfinished throne room. but you feel cornered. moreover, indignation rises in you again: stubborn. you've seemingly run out of aces. Yoongi makes it worse by flicking the stick. he once again somehow cuts the space between you; you're sure he stands too far away to reach, and yet you blink, and the tip of flexible twig burns your hand, and you let go of the blade in reflex. it falls on the floor with a metallic thud as you clutch your ALREADY HURT PALM.
"that's it, bro".
you charge at him. another stinging flick keeps you awake, like you are the tiger now; this stick in his hand works almost invisibly, so quick that you don't see it coming - and maybe you don't need to. squeezing your eyes together, you allow him to flick you again, thinking about only one thing. a great author from twentieth century, known as J.R.R. Tolkien, wrote a story once, about a beautiful and brave elf who never put away his luxuriant long hair. he was a tremendous warrior and a very intelligent being, however his loose hair was eventually his demise. the hair, just like ribbons, has the tendency to adhere to laws of physics even when the bearer seemingly doesn't. it means, when he moves, the long hair stays there for a second yet. another burning slap lands on your shoulder, and you grit your teeth, almost blind with rage. your hand extended, you jump at Yoongi and naturally he avoids you easily, but you do not aim for his ghost-like face. your healthy palm catches the very tip of the horsetail and you form a fist, falling to your knees with pain, and pulling him after you.
a strong hand gets into your hair, too, and you both crash on the floor. your other hand searches around for the damn stick and, miraculously, it's under your palm.
"you fuck-.." you mumble, out of breath. your clutch on his tail is stone-firm, you put all your might into that hold like your life depends on it. at the same time, the room spins: Yoongi's hand slides around your head and lands on your neck. he needs to decide what he wants to do, you think. he either lets go of the stick to unclasp your fingers from his hair. or of your throat. he goes with the first. the twig becomes vacant in your clutch, and you use it on his side, slapping him relentlessly, tugging on the tail, pressed into the floor. his shoulders cover you from the light, your own breath beating in your ears as you hit him repeatedly, releasing the frustration.
he is absolutely silent, his face stays almost unmoving, save for a scary smirk that makes the depths of your guts twirl in an impulse you don't even care to decipher. his knee on your stomach, heavy, knocks the breath out of you. as the stick lands on his ribs, there's a poor chance it does anything at all. the scars on his back that you witnessed today were from a sword, and perhaps that part of his body even has less sensitivity. his hand almost crashes your fist as he first squeezes it, and the pain makes you wanna scream out, but he is choking you. it's all kinds of messy. you release his hair but hold on to the stick, your feet beating but only reaching his legs every other time. Yoongi looks like he's about to smother the life out of you, giving you a direct ticket back home. the grasp of his big palm is so strong that your head starts going numb. you brace yourself, your tongue rolling around your mouth, trying to get a grasp of your mother language. you are way too used to the frustration by now, because death is an enthusiastic and unpredictable companion for a time traveller.
you aren't saved by a palace worker, curious about the noise. or by Jimin who's been hiding like a moth somewhere in the dark corner this whole time. Taehyung doesn't sneeze thunderously in the garden, shifting his attention. the king has mercy on you, his slow, focused eyes search something on your face, they look almost with tenderness, then his hands release you. the weakened left fist and the throat. he even lifts himself up like there's straps attached to his back, and he doesn't need to unbend knees. just stands up smoothly, and you can see the room again, lit by the fire lamps. you roll on your side, throat pulsating, cough stuck in there, the artery fighting for your life. the flogging stick is under you, your little prize that you're clenching onto. sounds like Yoongi picks up his knife and puts it away. then he steps to the wall. you try not to lose him from your field of view, but eyes tear up with exertion and you squeeze them shut to produce a long cough.
"once i get up..." you whisper, coarse, your hand in the air, "it's over for you. you better run".
Yoongi tilts his head forward and looks at his horse tail. studies the tip of it that you'd clutched, with his lower lip stuck out, then retrieves Jiyoung's scissors from the shelf you'd forgotten them on. you cannot believe your eyes. he cuts off several inches where your hand has been, then approaches the lamp and throws the hair in the open fire. it hisses for a second, salivating at his gift. you lift yourself off the floor, your left hand shaking with pain, and sit, then uncurl the fingers to check if they are broken. honestly pain makes it hard to tell. there's also a new red wound on your right palm, and the side starts hurting, but everything is dwarfed by the irrational sensation of sore arousal. it's hard to breathe, feels like the throat is crashed. Yoongi is still busy with his tail, trimming the tips and throwing the small invisible hairs into the fire. finally he graces you with a glance.
"cunt", you croak.
"you sound like one of those lizards you spoke about", his mouth twitches. he is mocking you, chin up, the whole damage he sustained just burned in the lamp behind him. he really isn't won over as easily as the others, huh. he'll be so much work. the other boys just accepted you almost immediately. Seokjin simply went, eh, little sister. Jungkook heard you cheer for him once and went all in. Jimin probably doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Hoseok was like, medium level. Taehyung is up there with Jimin. but this character. this is the mad king. the Agust D emperor. the only thing Yoongi about him is his attachment to his boys, whether he even realizes it or not. you click your tongue, even the roof of your mouth hurts.
"i'm taking a day off tomorrow", you whisper, can't go higher because the voice simply doesn't return.
"take two", he allows, gently, "think about the epithets you're going to use to tell me the whole truth".
"is that what's it about?" you demand huskily. it hurts to speak. you push yourself against the floor and stand up, fixing the hair with the hurt hand. one ribbon is missing from your braids and you look around on the floor for it.
"of course. also, basic respect, but i am growing sceptical about that".
"respect is earned", you mutter, your eyes scanning the wooden floor. hand going through the hair mindlessly. "not demanded. not pulled out like bones through punishment".
"clearly you still haven't got a taste of this century".
your eyes dart to him. ribbon is forgotten. it all gets very clear and very serious very fast. even a portion of your voice returns.
"what did you say?"
"i go very easy on you", he adds, a rumble akin to the fire crackling while eating his 'contaminated' hair.
you skip the last part, still stuck on the century. it's Jimin's work, no doubt. you gently rub your throat in a comforting gesture.
"i can't give you what you want".
it's you begging him to back off. you know he won't. has no reason to. if he were someone else, any other person and not one of the boys, you'd simply laugh it off. stab him in the side.
the subjects who learn the truth are terminated. simple rule number two.
but you know you will get yourself stuck here. you know you want to be here. and you also know the loop cannot be spoken about. you know your time traveller integrity has never been tested like that before.
"you will", he confirms gently. you don't like how understanding he is all of a sudden, so calm. almost smiling. almost the :]. his soft cheeks look kind. you flip him off and he must know it's something rude, even if he doesn't understand the gesture. then you leave the throne room, abandoning the scissors in his hands, the knife, the ribbon somewhere on the floor. you have properly lost this round, you think. limping, hand on the throat. only the pale stick left in your hand. as you leave the palace through the gate, you throw it away with a feeling, cursing under your breath. night birds chirp in the trees and the moon is so close and beautiful, round and clear. you think, if Min-ssi oma so much as approaches your futon in the morning, you're going to put your fist through her old, mean skull.
taglist: @cerulean1riz , @kiki-zb , @mar-lo-pap , @ashyiiy , @enfppuff , @coolpeanutskeletonpersona , @jajabro
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anxiouslybrainrotted · 2 days ago
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Alternate, slightly funnier, definitely less angsty version of this;
Lysa gets hit and falls in love with Charlie, but similar to Vikram, no one knows. Lysa isn’t acting any different, because, well, she’s already crushing on Charlie, that’s just how she acts around someone she’s into.
There is actually precedent for this too, Vikram is the only person we as the audience know who gets hit, and he acts pretty much exactly how you think he would. He’s dramatic and poetic, he’s there for his interest in everything she needs, pretty much exactly how we can guess he would’ve acted with Anya based on how he talks about her. More importantly though, as soon as Marie says she wants revenge, he’s there. He stops the flirting and works with her on the perfect revenge plan, making sure she has everything she needs. Exactly, I’m sure, what he’d do with someone he has real interest in. We can be pretty sure the arrows don’t change how you act when you’re in love because of this.
But anyway, this ain’t a Vikram post, back to CharLysa;
We, as the audience, have already picked up on a hundred little displays of love between the two. A lot of it focuses on how they are always leaning into each other, you can see it every time they’re giffed together, they are in each other’s space more than necessary, their bodies are always tilted towards each other even if they’re just walking side by side. Any time something notable or funny happens, Lysa will pretty much immediately look at Charlie, who will be looking back.
Even if you don’t read that as romantic, it is love in some way. Look at both of their backgrounds.
Lysa, as far as we can tell, is a loner. We don’t know of anyone’s she’s close to, we know her parents died when she was young, and we can extrapolate that she probably didn’t make many connections out of (probably subconscious) fear that she would lose them randomly.
We can also tell, partly as a character read and partly through Olivia Morris’s acting, that she likes to be listened to. She loves when people pay attention to her, not because she narcissistic or anything, but because that’s how she processes love. When someone is paying attention to her and taking her seriously, that’s how she knows they care about her, and thus, that’s how she shows she cares about others. Her love language (platonic and romantic) is not through grand gestures or heartbreaking poems, it’s through the little things, like paying attention, and being near people, the things you miss the most when they’re gone.
Charlie is really similar in this way. We know she gave her all, for presumably years, into getting into The Library, being a Guardian. So we can guess that she probably also didn’t have many connections outside of it (especially if she was aware of the ‘no relationships outside The Library’ rule). And we can definitely tell, through writing, through acting choices, and through some obvious character reads, that Charlie is desperately lonely. Look at how fast she folded when Lysa asked her to brunch in And The Ghost Train. That was episode 3.
And yes, part of her job is to be observant and attentive, but the degree to which that attention is paid to Lysa goes beyond her duty in my opinion. Every scene I can think of where Lysa is talking, you can see Charlie paying rapt attention. I don’t particularly recall her leaning in to anyone else the way she does Lysa (though I could be wrong on that one, Lysa’s the only character I really pay all that much attention to behavior-wise).
So while it is her job to pay attention to people, I think she pays attention to Lysa because she wants to, it makes her happy. And I think receiving attention is probably a big thing for her, as someone who was passed over for Guardian, because it’s a form of validation, a thing she desperately craves.
I could be wrong about all of this though, I’m just a casual fan and this really wasn’t meant to be a character study, so feel free to tell me if you disagree (respectfully of course), I’d love to listen to and talk to people who’ve paid more attention to these characters than me.
...and the Thief of Love
The reason that Charlie tackled Lysa was because she didn't want her being affected by one of Cupid's arrows. If she was, she might fall in love with one of the guys. Or it might have made her fall in love with Charlie, and then Charlie would never be able to trust Lysa's feelings. Were they real or caused by the arrow? Oh, how magic can mess with the head...and the heart.
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byhuenii · 20 days ago
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YOU-ology
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Pairing Bucky Barnes x Reader
Syonpsis Bucky has been trying to understand you—your habits, your silences, your smiles. You speak in gestures more than words, in shared glances and cups of coffee left just right.The problem? He doesn’t know what a “love language” is. It sounds like a literal dialect. So naturally, he puts on his reading glasses, makes a study binder, and asks Peter Parker to teach him Gen Z slang, but he knows one thing for sure: if loving you means learning everything—he’s ready to graduate with honors.
(Inspired by TXT 'Love Language')
Word Count 2.6k
Tags + Warning Soft misunderstanding / no angst, fluff overload, accidental confession via ASL, soft!bucky
— YOU-ology Researching you-ology, all about you, from A to Z
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“I can’t read your mind,” he says, voice low. “But I want to.”
The sunlight hits just right in the Brooklyn apartment. You’re sitting on the windowsill, nursing your third cup of coffee, and Bucky’s leaning against the kitchen counter like the world isn’t tilting every time you look away from him.
You don’t speak right away. You’re used to silence. He’s learning that.
He watches as you stir your coffee absentmindedly. You always stir five times. Clockwise. Never more, never less.
He’s been keeping track of things like that.
Like how you always set out two mugs in the morning, even when he doesn’t sleep over. How you keep an extra blanket folded at the end of the couch even though he insists he doesn’t get cold. How you hand him a protein bar without asking if he’s eaten.
You don’t say much. But you do a lot.
And Bucky? Bucky’s trying to figure out if this—whatever this is—means what he hopes it does.
He’s never been great with feelings. Too many years pretending he didn’t have any. But with you, he wants to get it right.
“I think I might be speaking the wrong dialect of love,” he tells Peter Parker seriously. “Is there a Duolingo for romance?”
Bucky has fought in wars, survived brainwashing, outpaced death—and yet, nothing has confused him quite like you.
Well, you, and this strange thing Peter said over lunch the other day.
"Oh, love language? Yeah, it's like how people give and receive affection. You gotta know your partner's love language to really connect.”
Love language?
Bucky had blinked at Peter from behind his coffee, the words rattling around like marbles in a tin can. “There’s a language for that?”
Peter had shrugged like it was obvious. “Yeah, there are five. Physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, and gifts. You know… the usual.”
Bucky had nodded slowly, like he understood. He did not understand. He thought "acts of service" was a military term.
Back home, Bucky had pulled out his reading glasses (the ones Sam doesn’t know he owns) and Googled:
“What is love language.” “Love language translation.” “How to know if you’re good at love.”
Twenty tabs later, he had a headache, a notebook full of bullet points, and a tiny post-it with your name surrounded by little doodled hearts he definitely didn’t mean to draw.
STUDY NOTES:
☑ Quality time → you always wait for him after missions
☑ Acts of service → you make his tea how he likes it (2 sugar, no judgment)
☑ Physical touch → light shoulder pats, a knee against his under the table, casual-but-not-casual hand touches
☑ Gifts → brought him a vintage Captain America comic once. He almost cried.
☑ Words of affirmation → okay this one’s harder. You’re quiet. You show love, but don’t say it much. Still… he catches you looking. That means something.
He circles the last one twice.
One morning, Bucky shows up to your door with a homemade dictionary titled:
“You-ology: A Comprehensive Field Guide to Understanding You” (Vol. 1 — Beta Edition)
It’s leather-bound. Handwritten. Indexed.
There’s a doodle of you on page one that looks suspiciously like it was done by a man lying on his stomach with his feet up and his legs kicking.
You flip through it, trying not to grin. “You made me a… glossary?”
Bucky pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’ve been decoding your signals.”
“You’ve been—what?”
“You say things without saying them. And I figured maybe if I could learn your dialect, I could say things back.”
You’re stunned. Speechless. Warm all over.
“Bucky,” you say, “you’re literally learning a love language like it’s a spy code.”
He squints. “It’s not?”
Once Bucky learns that love languages aren’t actual dialects, he’s a little embarrassed. For five whole seconds.
Then he decides:
“Fine. Then I’ll try all of them. Just in case.”
And he does. With alarming dedication.
Words of Affirmation: You wake up to a note on your fridge:
“You’re the smartest person I know. Even smarter than Banner. (Don’t tell him.) - B”
And another on your coffee cup:
“You deserve the world. But I brought you coffee instead. I hope that’s okay.”
When you turn around, he’s leaning on the counter, flushed red. “Too much?”
Acts of Service: You offhandedly mention your sink is dripping.
The next day it’s fixed. And your drawer doesn’t stick anymore. And your laptop’s updated. And your favorite hoodie that you thought you lost? Folded on your bed.
He salutes you on his way out like it’s a secret mission. “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”
Quality Time: He clears a Saturday. No missions. No distractions.
You watch four movies, eat terrible microwave popcorn, and fall asleep on his shoulder.
He doesn’t move. Not for hours. His arm goes numb. He doesn’t care.
He tells Sam later: “Best damn day I’ve had in decades.”
Gifts: He leaves a flower on your desk. Not a rose. A tiny forget-me-not. The tag says:
“This reminded me of your laugh. Kind of small. Kind of magic.”
You keep it in a book. He notices. Doesn’t say a word. Smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.
Physical Touch: He used to flinch. Now? He leans in.
You touch his hair once and he forgets how to breathe. Next day, he wears it slightly messy. Hopes you’ll do it again.
One day, you reach for his hand. He holds it like it’s fragile. Like you’re holding him. His thumb rubs soft circles into your palm.
“Just… letting you know I’m here,” he murmurs.
You squeeze back. “I know.”
Peter Parker ends up being his unofficial relationship coach.
“Wait—what’s a ‘green flag?’” “Peter, what does ‘simp’ mean?” “Is it normal to dream about their smile for six nights in a row or is that brain damage?” “Be honest. Am I down bad?”
Peter: “...You’re down astronomical, sir.”
One rainy night, you both get stuck in the Tower’s media room during a storm.
Bucky fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie. You notice he’s scribbled something in the corner of his You-ology notebook.
You tilt your head. “What’s that?”
He doesn’t look up. Just says, “It’s… new vocabulary.”
He passes you the notebook.
 He wants to understand you like he’s memorizing a secret language only the two of you speak.
He clears his throat. “I’ve been… trying to study you. Is that weird?”
Your brows raise slightly in amusement. “Study me?”
“Yeah,” he says, running a hand through his short hair. “Like—figure out what you’re saying when you’re not actually saying anything.”
You look at him now, eyes softening. “You’ve been reading my… ‘you-ology?’”
He laughs. It’s a quiet, rusty thing. Rare. But so warm when it happens.
“I guess I have,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I know you like your coffee sweet but pretend you don’t. I know you always hum when you’re nervous, and you’ll never ask for help, but you’ll stay up until 2 a.m. helping me.”
His metal hand flexes. Nervous.
“And I know you look at me like I mean something… but I don’t know if I’m reading it right.”
Your voice is soft. “And what if you are?”
He stops.
His heart stops.
The sun hits your cheek just right, your smile so shy it breaks something open in him.
“I don’t talk much,” you add, “because I never really had to. Not with the right people. But I make sure they’re warm. That they eat. That they know I’m there, even when I can’t say it out loud.”
He swallows hard.
“Then I guess,” Bucky says slowly, stepping into your space, “I’ve been speaking your love language this whole time.”
You smile, fingers brushing the inside of his wrist. You trace the edge where skin meets metal. He shivers.
“And you?” you whisper. “What’s your language?”
He thinks. He’s never been asked that.
Maybe it’s not words. Maybe it’s quiet, safe mornings and the way he remembers your favorite color. Maybe it’s standing between you and the crowd even when there’s no danger. Maybe it’s showing up. Not running.
“I think,” he says, “it’s time. Sitting with you. Watching dumb movies. Letting you talk or not talk. Just… being.”
You nod. “Then you’ve been speaking mine too.”
His hand curls around yours.
Chapter 6: When I’m With You, Everything Makes Sense
Coffee = comfort
Silence = trust
Laughter = home
You = safe
You = mine? (still unsure. researching.)
Your throat tightens. “You big dork.”
He glances up, hopeful. “But… like, a lovable dork?”
You kiss his cheek. “Fluently lovable.”
Weeks later, you hand him a little leather journal.
On the front:
“Bucky-ese: A Guide to Loving You Back (YOU-ology)”
He flips it open.
Page One:
“Your love language is: All of them. But especially being seen. And I see you.”
He presses the book to his chest like it’s holy.
Then: “You wanna watch that stupid baking show and drink tea out of mismatched mugs like we’re 80?”
He grins. “That’s my favorite dialect.”
There’s no grand declaration. No fiery kiss.
Just soft, sacred quiet.
But that’s the thing about love languages. You don’t always need to hear them. Sometimes, you just feel them.
And Bucky?
He feels you.
Lately, he’s gotten really into studying TikToks and music videos you like. You walk in one night and he’s watching TXT’s “Love Language” choreo on repeat.
He’s squinting at the screen, rewinding and mimicking one particular moment — where the members make the “I Love You” sign in ASL, fingers shaped just right.
He sees you enter and lights up like a puppy who just figured out how to sit.
“Hey! I think I cracked it. That hand thing—like, this?” He does it—thumb, index, pinky up. “It’s like, modern slang for love, right? Like Gen Z emoji but with your hands?”
You pause mid-step.
Your heart thuds.
“Bucky… do you know what that actually means?”
He blinks. “Yeah! It’s like, ‘you’re cool’ or something? Peter said it’s used in dances a lot. You know, like ‘🤟 vibes only.’”
You stare at him. He’s still holding it up—so proud, so casual—like he didn’t just set fire to your entire nervous system.
“James.”
Your voice is soft. He stops.
You step forward slowly, take his hand in both of yours, and gently lower it.
“That sign isn’t slang,” you whisper, eyes searching his face. “It’s American Sign Language. It means ‘I love you.’ Literally. Not ‘cool.’ Not ‘vibes.’ Love.”
Silence.
His eyes go huge.
His mouth parts—then shuts. Then opens. Then shuts again. He is rebooting.
“…Oh.”
Then—quiet panic.
“…Oh.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait. Wait, I’ve been doing that for, like, three days. To you. While you were making dinner. On the couch. That one time in the elevator—”
You nod, very calm. “Yes. You told me you loved me 17 times. And yes, I counted.”
He is bright red. Apocalyptic red. He looks like he might spontaneously combust.
“I—I didn’t know—*I mean I do, I mean not like—*I mean obviously I do—” He’s flustered and fumbling, hands waving.
You grab them. Hold them gently. Steady.
“You really do?”
His voice is barely a breath. “Yeah.”
Your smile cracks through the tension like sunrise.
“Then say it again.”
You release one of his hands. He looks at you—heart on his sleeve, nerves frayed.
And slowly, deliberately, he lifts his hand again.
Thumb, index finger, pinky.
I love you.
And this time—he knows exactly what it means.
BONUS:LATER THAT NIGHT!!
He flops onto your couch face-down and groans into a pillow. “I confessed on accident like some kind of boyband backup dancer.”
You’re sitting next to him, stroking his hair. “It was perfect.”
He peeks up. “You sure?”
You grin. “Fluently perfect.”
He groans again—but he’s smiling.
“You’re my safe place, and I think I just proposed to you using the wrong hand sign, oh my god—can we rewind time or am I gonna die here on this rug?”
Bucky has a Plan™️.
After accidentally telling you “I love you” 17 times in ASL (without realizing it) and then on purpose (with realization), he’s decided he wants to learn a full phrase.
Something simple. Something sweet.
Something like:
“I’m happy with you.” Or maybe: “You’re my home.”
So he goes to Peter. Again.
Peter, to his eternal regret, pulls out a basic ASL learning app and walks Bucky through the signs.
Problem is, Bucky’s fingers don’t cooperate yet. His muscle memory is stubborn. His brain is full of you and short-circuiting.
What he meant to learn was:
“You make me feel safe.” (“YOU — MAKE — ME — FEEL — SAFE”)
What he accidentally signs, in a combination of nervousness and fumbled syntax, is:
“YOU — MAKE — ME — YOUR — WIFE.”
He doesn’t realize it.
You, who actually knows ASL, absolutely do.
It’s a quiet afternoon in your apartment. Rain against the window. Music low.
Bucky has that look again—the one where he’s clearly been practicing something all day and is about to do it nervously but dramatically.
You’re curled up on the couch when he stands in front of you, face serious, eyes way too shiny.
He clears his throat.
“Okay. I’ve been learning more. ASL. Because I wanna speak it the way you do. With your hands. With your heart.”
You melt. Instantly. He’s fidgeting, biting his bottom lip. He looks like a storm in a sweater.
Then he signs.
Slowly. Carefully.
“YOU — MAKE — ME — YOUR — WIFE.”
You freeze.
Your eyes go wide. Your heart? Gone. Brain? Empty.
Bucky is beaming.
“Did I get it right?”
You blink. “Um. Almost.”
“Yeah?” He looks so proud. “I practiced for, like, six hours. I wanted to say you make me feel… y’know, safe. Like… like I’m home.”
There is a pause.
Then you start laughing.
Not a mean laugh—a breathless, overwhelmed, you-are-so-stupidly-perfect-how-is-this-my-life laugh.
Bucky’s face crumples. “Wait. Did I say something weird?”
You can barely get the words out. “James Buchanan Barnes—you just proposed to me.”
He freezes.
Like—winter soldier frozen mid-mission freezes.
“…Wait. I what?”
You take his hands gently and show him.
“WIFE.” You do the correct sign. “SAFE.” You show the actual one. “Different hand shape.”
Bucky looks between your hands and his own like they’ve betrayed him.
His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
“…Did I really just—?”
You nod, biting your lip.
“…Oh god.”
He immediately flops to his knees, hands in his hair, face in his palms. He’s red everywhere.
“I didn’t mean to propose. I can’t propose like that—there was no ring, no speech, no flowers—you were in socks—”
You blink. “Would it have been better if I wasn’t in socks?”
“YES. I mean NO. I mean—GOD.”
He’s pacing now. “Do we take it back? Is it binding? Is this like vampire rules where once you say it it’s done—I didn’t even kneel on purpose—”
You walk up to him.
Cup his cheeks.
He’s still spiraling.
“…Was it weird? Was it bad? Was it too soon? Do you wanna break up with me and then date me again so I can do it right?”
You shake your head, smiling.
“Bucky.”
He stops.
You lean in, press your forehead to his.
Then you sign, clear as day:
YES.
He freezes.
“Wait. Yes what?”
You say it out loud this time. Soft. Steady.
“Yes. I’ll be your wife.”
His breath leaves him like someone knocked it out with a hug.
“…Even though I proposed by accident?”
You kiss his nose.
“Especially because of that.”
Bucky buys a ring the very next day.
He still does the ASL sign for “I love you” every time you leave the room. You never get used to it.
And one day, he signs perfectly:
YOU — ARE — MY — SAFE — PLACE.
You tear up.
And then, just to mess with him, you sign back:
MAKE — ME — YOUR — HUSBAND.
He drops his drink.
You both laugh so hard you forget the world.
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(You've got mail!) well well well..WELL WELL WELLLLLLLL. this has been fermenting in my drafts so uh hereee. its very fluffy and cute and so much grandpa barnes code. i whole heartily believe hes such a cutie like you can not convince me otherwise. stream txt love language tho! i rmbered i had this while i was kinda making a txt series avengers masterlist so uhhhh yeah! ALSO I HAD NO CLUE THAT HUENING KAI WAS TRYNA LEARN MY YOU-OLOGY IM BLUSHINGGG
Tag List (For Mr. James Buchanan Barnes is open)
@bbsbrina @herejustforbuckybarnes @barnesandbouquets
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delphi-shield · 7 months ago
Text
— 「 BODYGUARD 」
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lighter lorenz x reader — 2.2k summary: you're not his responsibility (not yet), but the guilt will eat him alive if he doesn't get your drunk ass home safely. content: lighter's pov, vomit, alcohol use, sappy lighter, jealous lighter beyonce's bodyguard is so him to me i can't do this anymore fellas
You call; he answers.
Some things in life are just that simple. Lighter tries to keep it that way for you.
You don’t normally call in the middle of the night, though. Lighter doesn’t mind – honest, he doesn’t. He had been tossing and turning since he laid down, passing the time by picking open old wounds, letting the regret sting the raw edges. It takes time to realize that the ringing isn’t in his ears, that he’s flat on his back in bed, not in the ring. He almost ignores the call, but when he rolls over and sees your name flickering back at him, he dives to pick up before the last ring.
You're silent on the other line, nothing but muffled talking and rustling against the microphone. All sorts of scenarios race through his head. You're stuck somewhere - trapped in a hollow, or cornered by a rival gang. His past has caught up to him, mired you in all this ick. His stomach turns.
Adrenaline works way better than caffeine and he’s known that for a while, but he wishes he wasn’t so familiar with the helplessness that grips him. Lighter sits up, swings his legs over the side of his bed, poised to run to you.
It’s nothing so serious. When you finally get your phone up to your face and greet him with a (too loud, too sloppy) ‘hey!’ it becomes painfully obvious. You're drunk. That's what all of this is about.
Lighter needles the details out of you bit by bit, trying to glean information from your ramblings. Stranded out in Badger Springs. You met some guy out there for a date, he went to the bathroom and didn’t come back. You don’t laugh when he offers to deck the guy, and he can’t tell if you’re really torn up about this or if you just didn’t hear him.
Lighter pinches the bridge of his nose. He exhales long and low, away from the mic. He shouldn't encourage this. Can't keep bailing you out every time you get yourself in a sticky situation. But the thought of you drunkenly stumbling around the Outer Ring, bumbling your way into real trouble, has him fumbling to get his arms through his jacket.
“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”
Badger Springs. Seriously? Why’d you have to go so far out? What was so wrong with getting a drink in Blazewood?
Irritation pricks at him, has his hands feeling staticky even when he grips the handlebars of his bike. You probably went out there so no one would interrupt your date. What, were you trying to hide it? Did the girls know about this? No. No way. You would have called one of them to pick you up if that were the case. Right? You weren’t trying to hide it from him, not specifically.
He has a long ride ahead to stew about it, to knot the meaning of your actions into ugly shapes and then smooth them out, only to twist it all up again another mile down the road. This wouldn’t have happened - he kicks the stand down on his bike - if he’d manned up, if he’d asked you to watch the movie he’d rented. (New release, independently produced, apparently based off some old civilization tapes that had only been spoken about in a scant few records - some horror flick called Seen that you had been raving about. Not his thing, but your eyes lit up when you spoke about it. He figured he could just watch you during the bloody parts.)
But he didn’t ask, and now he’s here, freezing his ass off in the middle of the night, parked outside this shithole bar, two towns over. The bar is a dump. Looks like your date couldn’t even take you anywhere nice. You’re off by yourself at the end of the bar, shoulders drawn in close, crowding over your drink. At least the regulars are leaving you alone. A quick look around tells him that there’s too many people in this place for it to be a quick fight, if it came down to that.
He strolls past tables and booths, lets his hand fall heavy on your shoulder. You jump, turning sluggishly to look up at him - eyes wide and red. C’mon - don’t tell him you’ve been crying over this prick. Your expression smooths the moment that you recognize him. 
“Lighter!” Your arms fling around his middle, squeeze him tightly.
The tide of adrenaline that he washed in on pulls back, drags his relief away. Anger shores up, quick and sudden. It soothes in another pulse of his heart; understanding. It's kind of flattering if he doesn't think about it too hard. You trusted him enough to come pick you up. Probably couldn't even think clearly - just knew you wanted to go home. Knew he would get you there, safe and sound. Not a bad prize for driving all the way out here; he tries to enshrine this moment in his memory. Later, trying to fall asleep in his room, he’ll feel like a sleaze for delighting in being your hero like this.
He pats the top of your head, takes advantage of the distraction to wave the bartender over, check if you’ve still got an open tab. He slips him a couple extra denny for the trouble, keeps you distracted and talking with carefully placed ‘oh, really?’s and ‘mhm’s.
"You're wasted, huh?"
“Not that bad.”
You sound confident. He steps back, lets you hop off the bar stool on your own. Lighter hooks a thumb in his pocket. He drums his fingers against his thighs, watching you sway back and forth in front of him. Your eyes are hazy and unfocused, looking in his general direction with a dopey grin on your face.
Pride feels better than anger. He latches onto that. You make it so easy to feel when you cling onto his arm, lean into him. He keeps you close, ignores the whispers he overhears about the Red Scarf. His step quickens. He’s not getting into any trouble, not when he’s here for you.
You struggle to keep up, all uncoordinated limbs, your head probably spinning. He helps you onto the back of his bike and passes you a helmet. He’d grabbed it on his way out - figured if you were as trashed as you sounded on the phone then it was better safe than sorry. He’s glad he did.
Somewhere along the ride home, you stopped babbling. He had felt your words pressed against his back more than he had heard them. He stops just before home to check on you. Can’t have you falling asleep. He doesn’t want to hear it about riding in with you all banged up on the back - he’d never let it down. He’d never let himself live it down, more accurately, but his bike starts back up before you hear that part.
Honestly, he’s almost positive you won’t remember much past when you first called him. That doesn’t stop him from treating you gently. He helps you off his bike, keeps your hand in his to guide you around stray milk crates and cacti that just seemed to leap into your path.
It’s just a little further. He’s almost got you back to your place when he hears it. That ominous groan. Your face pallid, cold sweat breaking out against your forehead.
“Gonna throw up?” He asks, big hand rubbing slow circles on your back.
You shake your head, the force of it knocking you off balance. You would have stumbled right into a cactus if he hadn’t hauled you into his side by the back of your shirt. (Like scruffing a kitten, he catches himself thinking. Cute.)
He tries to guide you to the closest trash can, but you can’t quite make it. Your legs are quaking, all the strength sapped from you while you expel that contents of your stomach into one of Old Demir’s flower pots. He gathers your hair back from your face gently, caging it all in one hand to rub your back with the other. Somewhere between gentle coos of ‘there you go’ and ‘let it all out’, he manages to make out your garbled apology. You thread it between heaves, between sobs, but he catches it all the same and shushes you for it.
“All better?” He asks when the dry heaving has stopped. You nod slowly. The tiniest whimper he’s ever heard drifts from your lips. He knows from experience that much more movement than that will hurt.
Lighter sighs. The scent of your perfume curdles with the stench of vomit. He arranges your hair back as best he can, trying to replicate the way you had done yourself up - all pretty for another man, he remembers. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, and he pulls the end of his scarf free.
“No, Lighter–”
Your hands are clumsy. He dodges your attempts to stop him easily. He clicks his tongue and swipes the vomit from your chin. “Don’t worry about it. This scarf has seen worse.”
It’s about time to get it cleaned, anyway. Add that to his growing list of chores.
You’re moving slower than before. He tucks you into his side to give you some more stability. When you pause at the steps to your place, he sweeps an arm under your knees, cradles you close to him. He had expected a protest, or an apology - something in line with the rest of your behavior this evening, but you curl closer to him. 
It’s a fumble to find your keys - shifting your weight from one arm to the other until he finally finds them in your back pocket. He knows your place well enough to dodge the shoes left in the entrance way, to step around the box that sticks out into the hallway from your bedroom. He settles you into your bed, rolls you onto your side - just to be safe.
Lighter keeps watch for a few moments, making sure you’re not going to roll onto your back, pressing the back of his hand against your sweat-chilled forehead. Once he’s certain the worst has passed, he leaves to fill a glass of water for you. Your eyes are half-open when he gets back. He draws up a chair, tries to figure out how to ask if you want his help changing into something more comfortable without sounding like a creep.
You rip that idea from his head when you blindside him with a question.
“D’you think it’s my fault?”
“Course not,” Lighter answers before he can even put together what you’re asking. “Everyone has too much fun sometimes. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re not even gonna remember this.”
“No, I mean…” You curl tightly around your pillow. He could have sworn he heard a hitch in your voice. His heart lurches. Christ, you can’t start crying now. He can’t take it. “Why would he just leave?”
Lighter has to remind himself not to pull a face. Not what you need right now. He’s already said too much. He’s just going to wind up upsetting you more. He wants to tell you that guy is a douchebag, that none of it had been your fault. The guy just wasn’t man enough to be upfront. That was all.
“I just don’t think I’m meant for this,” you whisper. His train of thought crashes abruptly. "Like– love, and stuff.”
“You’re so much fun to be in love with,” Lighter says, and if you were sober you would clock him for just how quickly he did so, “and someday, someone’s gonna see that.”
“How do you know?”
Because my heart feels like it’s buckled into a roller coaster and I can’t figure out if I’m having fun or if I’m scared shitless. Because I’ve got eyes. Because it’s you.
He can’t say any of that. Not now, while you’re shivering and small, a little bundle of raw nerves that he rescued from some dump. Christ, you really are a kitten right now. He chucks your chin with a knuckle, his smile twisting to something bittersweet.
“C’mon. You should know not to bet against me by now.”
For the first time since he got you through the door, you smile. Barely there and flimsy, but you’re only just clinging to consciousness. Your cheek presses back against your pillow, eyes slipping shut.
“Thanks, Lighter,” you murmur.
You’re out cold within the next minute.
Lighter lingers overlong. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in your room while you’re passed out like this, but he can’t bring himself to rise. His shoulders hunch, expression dropping, stomach churning. Through your window, dawn is just beginning to break. The Outer Ring is bathed in a cool blue light, the horizon tinging purple at the edges.
You have a hell of a morning ahead of you. He runs a hand down his face and forces himself to stand, to get his day started properly. Another sleepless night. Maybe the next time he finds himself awake, staring at the ceiling and tormenting himself, he’ll call you first. Maybe he’ll do it before anyone else has a chance to.
Lighter locks your door on his way out and tucks the key under your mat. He should act. He should tell you.
He walks back to his place in silence, resisting the urge to grab his phone, to text you and say let me know if you need anything.
Maybe one day.
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hearts4pbaz · 12 days ago
Text
Walked Into Your Love
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd
Words: 4.8K
Warnings: mild sexual content, mentions of sex
Synopsis: the covid fic y'all already know
Notes: WE ARE SOOO UP FAM. lowkey didn't mean to drag the release of this on for so long but here we are. this is a lil shorter then i'd like but whatever. tell me what you think, enjoy!
Paige doesn’t know exactly when she became more than friends with Azzi. She thinks the obvious answer would be the summer of 2018, when they were shoved into tiny hotel rooms together while traveling with Team USA. A forced proximity that allowed for tentative kisses and cuddles between the pair, not going any further, both girls too scared, too innocent to cross a larger physical boundary. Or, maybe it was earlier than that, the year prior. Immediate chemistry on and off the court, sparking questions of what could be. 
Whatever the answer is, Paige doesn’t care. Because right now, Azzi’s on top of her—naked—straddling her. And decency-wise, Paige isn’t much better, dressed in only one of Azzi’s hoodies. Shorts and underwear, god knows where.
Azzi leans down to whisper something in Paige’s ear but she doesn’t register it because holy shit, she thinks. She’s about to lose her virginity. To Azzi. Her best friend. Under her parents' roof. The same parents who so graciously let Paige stay with them to train over quarantine.
And, oh my God, she’s about to have sex with Azzi.
Before Paige can overthink anymore, hands start to wander, grasping and kneading at skin, then mouths explore, while soft, breathy gasps escape from them. Limbs tangle together, fumbling through every touch and adjustment.
The whole thing is almost painfully awkward and very much the opposite of graceful or fluid, but Paige doesn’t care one bit. In fact, in her mind, she thinks she actually might have died and gone to heaven. 
At one point, her hand starts to slide down from Azzi’s stomach, and then lower. Azzi sucks in a breath, and then her brows furrow together. Paige notices almost instantly, pulling her hand away, “You okay?” she questions, heat blooming on the back of her neck, thinking she’s done something wrong. 
Azzi doesn’t say anything at first. Just taking Paige’s hand and guiding it back downward, repositioning it, “Like that, a little less pressure, slower.”
Paige follows Azzi’s directions intently, adjusting. And almost immediately, she notices a change; Azzi’s eyes close, her mouth opens slightly, breathing becoming ragged. Paige takes a moment to bask in her pride until Azzi shifts her leg, pressing it upward between Paige’s. And at that, all of Paige’s thoughts evaporate.
Paige inhales sharply, body answering on instinct, hips shuffling down, firmly pressing into the muscle, she forces herself to suppress a moan. Instead, something of a choked gasp leaves her throat—or maybe it’s a sob. Paige doesn’t know. And it doesn’t matter what you call it—it was high-pitched, needy, and a little pathetic. It makes her sound desperate (even if she is). It makes Paige seriously consider how Azzi still finds this whole thing hot. 
Nevertheless, Paige doesn’t have time to ponder because just as she feels herself start to fall into a pit of embarrassment, Azzi moves again, slowly—rhythmically, and Azzi’s head drops down, coming to rest on Paige’s shoulder, allowing Paige to hear every sound that tumbles from Azzi’s lips. And in virtually no time at all, Paige goes from worked up to teetering on the edge. 
Paige has gotten herself to the edge, to release, many times on her own. But not like this, not with the sound of Azzi’s breath in her ear and the warmth of Azzi’s skin on hers. The coil forming low in Paige’s stomach holds a different kind of intensity. And Paige isn’t sure she’ll survive.
The pair’s movements start to grow messy, soft gasps and whispered pleas fill the charged air. And when they both finally topple over the edge, Paige feels the moment crash over her like a wave, every nerve alight. Paige swears she sees God. She honestly didn’t know it was possible to feel that good. But leave it to Azzi to always amaze her.
Azzi collapses onto Paige, nestling her head into the blonde’s chest, just under her chin. Quite a tension still buzzing in the air. Azzi looks up at Paige, giving her a look that nearly makes Paige melt on the spot. The younger girl plants a peck on Paige’s lips before snuggling back into her, closing her eyes.
……………………………………………………………………………
Three days after she had sex with Azzi, Paige feels like she’s going insane. Like, in dire need of medical attention, insane. The thing nobody tells you—or well, maybe just nobody told Paige, about having sex with a girl that you’ve been obsessing over since you were fifteen, is that, after you have sex, the little fluttery feeling you get in your chest and belly when she’s around does not go away. Instead, it grows. It grows a million times larger. It grows like a 14-year-old boy during summer break. And frankly, Paige feels like a 14-year-old boy right now.
Every time Azzi is near her, which is pretty much all the time when you’re stuck inside, she feels like she’s dying. Flashes of that night flood her mind literally 24/7. 
Paige can see it now, her headstone reading: Paige Bueckers 10/20/2001 - 4/28/2020
Death by sudden onset attraction overwelmingization
Right now, though, as she gets ready to turn in for the night, Paige finally gets to have a rare moment to herself. A moment to think about nothing as she steps into the shower, letting the hot cascade of water flow over her skin.
But of course, her mind won’t allow her to spare herself from all her embarrassment. Now flipping to yesterday evening, when they were all eating ice cream out on the deck. Paige was already trying really hard not to look over at Azzi eating her ice cream. But, she only had so much willpower, and the exact moment she flicked her eyes to look at Azzi was also the exact time when a drop of melted mint chip rolled from the younger girl’s cone and down her wrist. And like any normal person without a napkin in reach, Azzi licked up her wrist, capturing the small drop of ice cream with her tongue. 
The sight nearly made Paige choke on a piece of frozen cookie dough. Slamming her bowl down on the table, she quickly ran inside to the bathroom. 
Mid-splashing water on her face, Paige heard a knock at the door, “You okay in there, Paige?” Katie asked sweetly, genuinely worried. 
“Yeah, I’m all good, Katie,” Paige croaked back.
As she finishes replaying her own humiliation, Paige realizes that she’s probably been in the shower for much too long. Turning off the water, she steps out of the shower, dries herself off, and then pulls on an old hoodie and basketball shorts before she makes her way into Azzi’s bedroom.
Azzi is curled up in her bed, waiting for Paige. As Paige tucks in under the covers, she notices the blonde’s stiffness. Azzi turns to look at Paige, “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been weird since we you know…” Azzi says, trailing off, giving Paige a worried look before she begins again, “Did I do something wrong? Did you not like it?” Azzi questions, the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. “'Cause if I knew having sex would push you away, I would’ve never done it with you. God—”
Before Azzi can finish, Paige interrupts her, “God no, Az, You—you didn’t do anything wrong. At all. I’ve just been an idiot. And honestly, I think I liked sex with you more than I thought I would, and that scared me.” Paige takes a breath before she continues, “Az, I’ve been basically obsessed with you since I was fifteen, and when we had sex that night, I thought that it would be a way for me to avoid confronting my true feelings. That one night of sex would let me release any “too big” feelings I had. Which thinking about it now, that was dumb as fuck for me to believe that.” Paige grabs both of Azzi’s hands before continuing, “And I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like you were less than perfect.”
Azzi’s looking up at Paige now, eyes squinted in admiration, “You’re so stupid. I thought I suck or something,” she says before leaning over to kiss Paige. 
When Paige ultimately breaks the kiss she says, “You definitely didn’t suck,” smirk plastered on her face.
Azzi hums in response, before leaning back in, “Shut up,” she says, then deepening the kiss as she throws a leg over Paige's hips.
……………………………………………………………………………
The ice now broken, Paige feels free. Like she’s floating on a cloud with no worries in the world, she has never been more thankful for her own mind for thinking of staying with the Fudds a month ago. Living with your best friend is great—amazing even, but what is even more great, more amazing is living with your best friend and also getting the perks of having sex with said wonderful, amazing, so-fucking-hot best friend as well. Paige wonders if this is how people become sex addicts. Honestly, Paige thinks she wouldn’t mind being a sex addict if it meant being with Azzi.  
As it turns out, when you're stuck in the house with your best friend that you also happen to be sleeping with, doing things becomes sort of a pastime—a hobby if you will. It’s been almost a week and a half since Paige and Azzi’s conversation that night, and Paige has gained at least 6 new hickeys, all of them hidden away, covered by clothing. 
Something that surprised Paige, though, was how eager Azzi was. Someone who Paige previously thought of as soft, innocent, even, had a surprisingly high libido. 
One evening, two nights ago, just before dinner, both girls were finishing up their final pieces of school work (online school coming to an end). When Azzi finished, she shut her computer, rolling over to Paige. Azzi then pushed up the fabric of the blonde’s shirt and started to suck marks onto the pale skin of Paige’s lower stomach. But before anything could go further, they were interrupted by the sound of Katie’s footsteps thumping down the stairs, calling the pair up for dinner. Both girls jumped away from each other in fear of what Azzi’s mother might walk in on them doing. They both adjusted themselves before making their way upstairs.
Paige sat at the table looking as if she’d been struck by lightning for the entirety of dinner. 
They haven’t actually had sex during the day yet, always waiting for the rest of the house to be asleep. Until now. Katie and Tim had gone out on a very necessary Costco run, and Jon and Jose had somehow convinced them to come along on the basis of “acclimating back into the real world.” Taking advantage of the empty house, clothes are now strewn around Azzi’s room, and Paige is finding a lazy rhythm between the brunette's legs.
Paige is listening to the sounds spilling from Azzi's lips. And she thinks there isn’t anything that could bring her down from her high right now. Until something indeed sends her plummeting from the metaphorical cloud she was on. The unmistakable sound of Azzi’s door swinging open, then Katie’s voice saying, “Hey girls—oh shit.” Then the sound of Azzi’s scream, followed by the bang of the door being slammed closed.
Paige doesn’t even have time to process what just happened before Azzi is yanking the covers over both of them. Paige quickly rolls to the side, climbing up from out of the blankets as she looks at Azzi, stunned. Paige locks eyes with Azzi and immediately clocks that the younger girl is freaking out. 
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, Paige! Fuck—” Azzi gasps, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay, Az, just breathe,” Paige reassures, pulling Azzi into her arms. Paige is trying to keep a calm facade for Azzi’s sake but internally, she’s freaking out just as much. Mortification doesn’t cut it.
“No! It’s not! They weren’t supposed to be home for another hour. My dad is gonna kill me!” Azzi sobs into Paige’s chest.
“Shhh, Az, it’s gonna be alright, I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you. Also, when have your parents ever given you the impression that they’d love you less for anything you did?”
Paige asks in an attempt to calm Azzi down.
They stay like that until Azzi is able to calm down some. Her head still resting on Paige’s chest, listening to the shallow sounds of the blonde’s breathing. The sound of her phone buzzing on her nightstand makes Azzi turn her head. Reaching over to grab her phone, Azzi’s heart rate picked up. And as she suspected, there was a text from her mom at the bottom of the screen. 
It read:
Mom 🩷: Can you come upstairs? I want to talk, just you and me.
Azzi looks up from her phone at Paige. The look on Azzi’s face makes Paige’s heart her, with an obvious look of fear behind her glassy brown eyes. “It’ll be okay, I promise,” Paige reassures before giving Azzi a peck on the lips before continuing, “Just start with the truth, you didn’t do anything wrong. She’s your mom, and she loves you. I’ll be here waiting for you.”
Azzi stares at Paige for a moment, then exhales hard through her nose. She nods, though she looks far from convinced. Slowly, she swings her legs over the side of the bed. She threw on her previously discarded pajama shorts and shirt. Before padding over to the door, slipping out of her room, leaving Paige in silence.
Azzi climbs the stairs like she’s headed to her own execution. Each step heavier than the last, her heart is still threatening to beat out of her chest. She feels physically ill. When she reaches the top of the stairs, she sees her parents' door cracked. She closes her eyes for a moment before taking one final deep breath, as she goes to knock gently on the door frame.
Her mom’s voice floats out, calm but not readable, “Come in, sweetie.”
Timidly, “Azzi steps inside, suddenly feeling like she’s 8 years old again, having gotten caught doing something she shouldn’t. And maybe that’s what happened, she did get caught doing something she shouldn’t.
Katie is sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her expression was soft, but still serious. Not angry, though. That gives Azzi a morsel of hope, still hovering awkwardly in the door frame.
Her mom pats the space beside her, “Sit.”
Hesitantly, Azzi obliges, making her way over to the bed, avoiding eye contact as she sits down.
There’s a pause as Katie studies her daughter, “You okay?” she asks gently.
Azzi swallows, “Not really,” she says weakly.
Katie hums in response like she expected that answer, “I’m not gonna ask what you two were doing,” she says. “I think we all know.” 
Azzi’s face burns. She looks down at the rug on the floor and wishes it would come alive and swallow her whole. “I’m sorry.”
Katie’s voice stays steady, “Azzi, you don’t have to be sorry.”
Azzi blinks. She looks up.
Katie meets her eyes for the first time. “Surprised?”
“A little,” Azzi admits, her coming out small. “I thought you were gonna yell. Or cry. Or—I don’t know…” she trails off. “Tell me I disappointed you.”
Katie reaches out and takes one of Azzi’s fidgeting hands in hers. “I was surprised,” she says. “Yes, I didn’t expect to walk in on that. But Azzi, I need you to know that I’ll never be disappointed in you for being who you are.”
Azzi feels her throat tighten. “So you’re not mad?”
Katie gives her a tired smile. “No, of course not. I am mad at myself for not knocking, though,” she says, laughing lightly. 
And that forces a laugh out of Azzi, too. It’s a small, watery thing, but nonetheless, it’s still a laugh.
Azzi’s mom speaks again, “However, I do have to ask… how long has this thing been going on for? Between you and Paige.”
Azzi looks down again. “Umm, the physical stuff,” she cringes before continuing, “Like two weeks maybe? I don’t know. But if I’m being honest, I think our dynamic changed a long time ago.”
Katie hums again, “I figured that was the case. I just didn’t know how far you two had gotten.” 
There’s a beat of silence, then Katie continues, “So, you and Paige? Are you guys official or…? What’s the deal?”
“Uhh, we haven’t really put a label on anything yet. But I know that I like her, like a lot, like so much. And I think she really likes me too. So, yeah.”
“Okay,” Katie replies. “Because I’m your mom, though, I just want to tell you that intimacy is a big step. A powerful one. And I just want to make sure you’re safe. That you’re not feeling pressured for any reason. That’s something you wanted.”
Azzi nods quickly. “I did. I do. Paige would never—”
“I believe you,” Katie says. There’s another pause. “I love you, Azzi. That doesn’t change because of who you love. Or what you do behind closed doors. But next time, maybe make sure the doors are locked.”
Azzi lets out another teary laugh, covering her face with her hands, “Oh my God, Mom.”
Katie laughs, reaching to pull her daughter into a hug, “Sorry, sorry.”
They sit like that for a while, tension finally dissipating. Katie smooths Azzi’s curls down like she did when she was little. Eventually, Katie speaks up again, “When you go back down, can you call up Paige for me? I want to talk to her too.”
Azzi lifts her head. “Yeah, just try not to give her a heart attack.”
Katie chuckles, “No promises.”
The entire time Azzi was upstairs, Paige was planning her escape. Was she able to make it to the airport and get back to Minnesota? Or maybe she could hitchhike to Storrs early. Either way, Paige felt like her stomach was in her throat and her throat was in her stomach.
Just as Paige decides to give up her basketball dreams to work at a surf shack in Jamaica, Azzi rents her room. Paige snaps her head up. “How’d it go? Do I need to flee to the North Pole?” 
Azzi makes her way over to the bed, sitting down. “I’ll talk to you about it later. She wants to talk to you first.”
“Umm, what?” Paige responds nervously. “Are you sure she won’t behead me while I’m up there?”
“No, Paige, I promise, just go up there.”
Paige gulps before slowly making her way out of Azzi’s room and up the stairs.
Paige climbs the stairs, slower than she’s ever done anything in her life. Her palms are sweaty, her legs feel like gelatin, and she’s suddenly reminded she’s wearing Azzi’s hoodie. Great.
The door to Azzi’s parents’ bedroom is still cracked open. Paige stares at it for a beat, as if she dares to enter, she might not return. 
She raises a shaky hand to knock on the door frame, and before her fist can even make contact with the wood, Katie’s voice calls out, “Come in, Paige.”
Paige’s stomach does ten backflips. She steps inside like a student being summoned to the principal’s office. Except this is worse. Way worse. Paige would take anything over this, sprints, five miles running—hell, she’d even drink that nasty immunity booster for breakfast, lunch, and dinner over this.
Katie is seated on the edge of the bed. Her posture straight, composed. She gestures to the spot on the bed beside her. “Sit down.”
Paige obeys, sitting down still and silent. She folds her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her fingers. She doesn’t make eye contact. “I’m so sorry,” she blurts out before Katie can even speak. “What happened earlier, it shouldn’t have happened. Not here. Not in your house. That was so beyond disrespectful of me, and I—I knew better. I know better.”
Katie says nothing yet, just listens. Paige continues, words tumbling so fast that if she stops, she’s afraid she’ll never be able to say them again. 
“You’ve done nothing but welcome me in, feed me, and make me feel like I belong from the very beginning. This house is like—it’s safe. It's yours. And I went and ruined that by starting something selfish. Impulsive Stupid. I crossed a line with your daughter; I never should’ve crossed under your roof. And I’m so, so sorry.”
Finally, Paige dares to look up, her voice cracking, “I don’t want you to think I take any of what you do for me for granted. Or that I take Azzi for granted. I don’t. I never have and never will.”  
Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, now knuckles white. “She means the world to me,” Paige says. “And so do you. And I hate that this time, the first time, and the other times happened in the home of someone who feels like a second mom to me. It makes me sick to my stomach. I shouldn’t have let it happen the first time, here, and I shouldn’t have let it continue.”
Paige swallows hard, forcing herself to stop before she spirals into full-blown tears.
Katie lets Paige’s words hang in the air for a moment. She studies her—this girl who is clearly unraveling, who looks ready to self-destruct just from the weight of her own conscience. Finally, she speaks, gently, “Paige… honey. Take a breath.”
Paige does, shaky and shallow.
Katie softens, her voice warm but firm. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend I wasn’t shocked out of my mind earlier. That’s just the truth. But I’m also not gonna punish you for loving someone. Especially not when it’s Azzi, and especially not when it’s this clear how much you care.”
Paige’s eyes drop again.
“And for the record,” Katie adds, tilting her head. “You didn’t ruin anything. Sure, the where was not ideal. I could’ve gone my whole life without walking in on that. But what happened does not make this house less safe. Or make you less welcome.”
Paige blinks hard, nodding once, trying to keep her chin from wobbling.
Katie leans back on her hands slightly. “I know that wasn’t easy to say. But I’m glad you did.”
There’s a short beat of silence, and then Katie exhales, “So… has anyone ever actually talked to you about sex?’
Paige chokes, she feels her eyebrows literally fly off her face, “What!?”
Katie laughed a little, “I mean like… the actual talk, not scare tactics or weird metaphors about flowers.”
“Oh my God,” Paige mumbles, flopping down on the bed, covering her face with her hands. “Like no…My dad, as much as he’s great, gave me a pamphlet and told me not to get pregnant. And that was it.”
Katie winces.
Paige groans again, dragging her hands down her face, “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
“I promise to keep it short,” Katie says with a smile.
Paige lets out a strangled noise, something rivaling a laugh, “Fantastic.”
Katie’s tone turns a little more serious, “Look. I’m not here to judge you for having sex. It’s normal, it’s a part of relationships—especially when there’s real love involved. But it is a big deal. Emotionally. Physically. It’s easy to forget that when you’re in the moment, but it changes things.”
Paige nods slowly. “It already has,” she says quietly.
Katie watches her for a second. “And it sounds like the first time really mattered to you. Which is good. It should matter. But if you want this to work long-term, for real… you’ve gotta keep checking in with each other. Are you both ready for the next step? Do things still feel right? Are you still on the same page?”
“I think we are,” Paige says quietly, ‘But… I know we’ve been kinda skating around stuff. Trying not to mess it up. And that’s probably not sustainable.”
Katie nods. “Exactly. You don’t need to have everything figured out today. But if you’re going to keep exploring this with Azzi, you need to be honest with her and with yourself. And what you want, and what you need, and what scares you.”
Paige shifts on the bed, inching to get back to Azzi. “I will, I promise.”
Katie smiles gently, “Good. Because she loves you, Paige. I see it. And she’s figuring it all out, too. But if you’re careful with each other—if you communicate—you’ll be okay.” There’s a long pause. “Now,” Katie adds, standing up, “I think we’ve traumatized each other enough for one day. I have to get started on dinner.”
Paige laughs softly, standing too. “Fair.”
Katie gives her a light, one-armed hug and says, “Please don’t run away to Minnesota in the middle of the night.”
Paige pulls back just enough to say, “I actually had landed on Jamaica.”
Katie grins. “Let’s keep it within state lines, yeah?”
Paige nods. “Yeah.”
As Paige heads back downstairs, she feels a little lighter. Sure, she’s still definitely scarred and probably will be for the rest of her life but at least she knows she didn’t royally fuck up and doesn’t have to flee the country.
Meeting Azzi’s door, Paige slowly pushes it open, stepping back into Azzi’s room. Azzi’s in bed, curled up under the covers. When she hears Paige by the door, she snaps her head up and smiles, “Hey, look who made it out alive.” Paige pads her way over to the bed, lifting the covers and settling in beside Azzi. “How was it?” Azzi asks. 
“Humiliating, I honestly wish she’d actually killed me during some parts. She gave me The Talk,” Paige replies, cringing at the too-fresh memory.
Azzi’s eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly. “No, she didn’t.”
“Trust me, I wish she hadn’t.”
Azzi lets out a baffled laugh, “Oh my God, I might kill her.”
Paige chuckles in response, “But she did bring up something we should probably talk about.”
Azzi’s brow furrows in curiosity, “And that is?” 
Paige meets Azzi’s eyes, taking a breath before continuing, “Az, I think we both know that we need to figure things out in terms of what we are before we continue what we’re doing in any way. I don’t know if you want things to be official or what. Or if you want to keep things casual, because I know I have to leave for college in a few weeks. And I just want you to know that I really like you, Az, like a lot, like so much so sometimes I scare myself a little. But whatever you want this to be, I’m okay with it ‘cause I just want to see you happy.” Paige takes in another breath as she finishes. The last part is somewhat of a lie; she always wants to see Azzi happy, of course, but if she’s being really honest with herself, she also wants to be Azzi’s, to be loved by her, claimed by her, she wants to be Azzi’s girl. And she wants Azzi to be hers as well.
“Paige, you have no idea how long I’ve spent wanting you. Like it’s an embarrassingly long time,” Azzi laughs, then continues, “When I finally got to have a piece of you, I was kinda terrified how much I wanted all of you. I think for a long time I was scared to take things further because I thought it meant risking losing you, but you being here with me—with my family, has proved to me that you’ll never leave. And I don’t give a shit about you leaving, you could live on Mars and I still want to be with you. I want to be yours, Paige.” 
By now, both girls are a little teary-eyed, and Paige is almost stunned. “I love you so fucking much Azzi,” Paige says before grasping the younger girl’s face, kissing her. The kiss is sloppy, emotionally charged, and a little too wet, but it’s perfect, Paige thinks. Because doing anything with Azzi is better than doing it without her.
When the kiss is finally broken, Paige tugs both of them down, laying on the bed, pulling Azzi into her chest. A wave of sleep from the much too stressful day, falls over them.
Later, when dinner is finally ready, Katie makes her way downstairs to call both girls up. She pauses at Azzi’s door, knocking, and when she gets no response, she knocks again. Still nothing. “Hey, Az, Paige? Dinner’s ready.” Silence is all she’s met with. So, Katie makes the ever-brave decision to walk into the unknown. What she is met with is not anything traumatizing, Thank God. But instead, she sees her daughter curled into Paige’s side, the blonde’s arm slung around Azzi’s shoulders. Katie decides that they can have dinner later.
This time, she’s just happy that she walked into their love.
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liminalmemories21 · 3 months ago
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911 - Ficlet
"You know what I'm really tired of," he says when Tommy answers the door, pushing past him into the house he's only ever been to a handful of times, but whose address he still has saved in his GPS as Tommy (home).
"Please, come in.  Make yourself at home," Tommy says sourly.  "Evan, what are you doing here?"
He makes a beeline for Tommy's fridge, and god he always has such pretentious fucking taste in beer.  Good, but pretentious.  And he's such a prissy bitch when you call him out on it.  He'd loved that about him.  Loves that.
He grabs one at random, hunting for the bottle opener in the drawer next to the sink.  "Maddie thinks I need to learn how to be alone again."  Takes a swallow.  Tommy just stands there in the doorway, staring at him, not moving.  "She's wrong.  Couldn't manage to graduate from college, but I've got a fucking PhD in how to be alone."  Takes another swig, and then pauses to look at the label, but this is actually really good.  "What I need to learn is how to get someone to want to stay.
He looks at Tommy, who's still frozen in the doorway.
"She agrees with you, by the way.  Also thinks I'm in love with Eddie."  Takes another drink and then goes to root through Tommy's pantry for the doritos he knows are there somewhere, because Tommy won't admit it, but he loves them.
Makes a low triumphant noise when he finds them.  Takes a handful and holds the bag out ot Tommy, "You want some?"  Tommy shakes his head mutely.
He shrugs, "Your loss."  Crunches his way though a few.  "You're both wrong, you know.  Even if it would be really fucking convenient for the narrative."  Tommy starts to say something, and he cuts him off.  "Am I sad that my best friend is gone?  Yes.  Am I not dealing well living in his house?  Also yes.  Fucking sue me."  Crunches a few more chips and chases it with a swallow of beer.  "Eddie's house was one of the first places I found where I was always welcome.  He trusted me to take care of the most important thing in the world to him.  I think I get to be upset that he moved back to Texas.  I get why he went.  I don't even disagree with it.  I wish my parents had loved me half that much.  I still get to be upset about it."  Points the beer bottle at Tommy.  "Okay?"
Tommy holds up his hands.  "Okay."
He nods.  Takes the last swallow of beer in the bottle.  "What was I saying?"
Tommy shakes his head.  "I have no idea.  Evan, why are you here?"
He frowns.  "Oh, I came to apologize."
Tommy's eyebrows go up.  "This was an apology?"
He waves a hand.  Contemplates whether he wants another beer.  "No.  I wanted to apologize for what I said, about not having feelings for everyone I slept with.  That wasn't about you, but I realized that probably wasn't obvious."
"No," Tommy says, and finally crosses the kitchen to get a beer of his own.  "It wasn't."
He takes the second beer when Tommy holds it out to him.  He can uber home if he has to.  "I was mad," he offers.
"Got that, thanks."
He snorts without really meaning too.  "I missed this."  Tommy's eyebrows go up.  "The way you're bitchy and mean."  Sits down at the table opposite Tommy.  "I missed you.  I don't know if I'm still in love with you, but I know I'm not over you, no matter how many things I bake."
"Bake?"  Tommy echoes.
"I baked every time I wanted to call you, or thought about you.  I could have opened a bakery with what I made."  Rubs his hand down his jeans.  "With what I'm still making."  Risks a look at Tommy from under his lashes.
"Okay," Tommy says slowly.  "So, if the comment about not having feelings for everyone you sleep with wasn't aimed at me, who was it aimed at?"
He grimaces.  "Everyone?  No, really.  Everyone keeps telling me to get back on the horse, or there are other fish in the sea - and seriously, what's with all the animal metaphors.  It's creepy."  Takes a breath.  "So I did.  I tried that.  Downloaded grindr and hinge, went to a bar.  Hooked up with a girl.  Hooked up with a guy.  Didn't like it."  Rubs his hand on his pants again.  Takes a nervous swallow of beer.  "The thing is, I want it to be true.  I want to have feelings for the people - person - I'm sleeping with.  But the only person I want that with is you.  And you keep leaving."
"Evan."
He closes his eyes at the sound of Tommy saying his name.  "That's not fair?"
"No," Tommy admits.  "It's fair.  I run before I can get my heart broken.  That's my MO.  Doesn't," he lets out a shaky laugh.  "Doesn't seem to be working well when it comes to you."
He puts his hand on the table, palm up.  "Were you serious about Saturday?"
Tommy stares at his hand.  "Yes?"
"Pick me up at 7?  Not," he adds hastily, "Micelli's.  That place has bad karma."
Tommy lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.  He can relate.  "Not Micelli's," he promises.  Then, "I'm not over you either."
He nods.  "Good.  Maybe we can both learn how to not be alone."
"I was always good at math," Tommy says, and finally finally takes his hand.
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wordbunch · 6 months ago
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a/n: to all my moots and friends, no you didn't see me post this and yes im still your comfort lotr girl!!! to all others, hello & welcome to my newest obsession yes I have been corrupted. ENJOY!!!!
emperor Geta headcanons
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warnings: toxic behavior obviously lol, mild nsfw-ish mentions, this man should be taken with caution by all means
this man loves like he was starved and then brought to a feast - he inhales and devours every inch of you, every texture, scent, sound, personality trait, quirk, he will eat you UPPPP in every sense of the word; he wants his senses full of you and he can't ever get enough
he is definitely a very obsessive and possessive person, observant, sharp, witty. also when it comes to prayers and sacrifices, he means business - he dead seriously prayed for a wife who was headstrong, intelligent, passionate and fearless; someone who could match him in every way, whom he could verbally spar with, word for word, but also someone who'd have his back unconditionally as he doesn't really have many people to genuinely rely on. he wanted an equal, and he was also hoping for someone either his age or even a bit older - he was afraid of having a childish partner who wouldn't properly fill in a tremendously important role
he is 110% a switch and it fully depends on what kinda day he'd had and the mood he's in
contrary to many interpretations and rumors, he isn't horny 24/7!!!! like yes he IS insanely attracted to you, but his days can be so impossibly draining and tedious so sometimes he would just rather lie down with you and have you close, than do anything else. also, he doesn't do quickies or anything of the sort; he likes to go all in and take his sweet time with you, or let you have your way with him. he enjoys being dedicated and not distracted in bed with you. all in or nothing for this man. and yes he is vocal.
one thing that makes him feel absolutely AMAZING (and you realized quite quickly thankfully)is when you draw him a bath - yes it must be YOU specifically who does it - and then either give him a shoulder rub or wash his hair, or both. he will become putty in your hands and relax more than he can explain in words. pamperrr him sometimes 🥹😭 he finds it so thoughtful that you do this for him at the end of a taxing day; after all, there is nothing in the world he wouldn't do for you.
speaking of, when Geta notices something is off with you, he won't ask if he can make you happy again somehow, he will ask you to name what you want him to do, and he will do it. you are the only person with that effect on him.
most definitely is turned on by someone who is smart and witty and perceptive. also he has very keen eyes and he can read even your slightest signals, even in a crowded room, especially in a crowded room, and he also appreciates when you can read him without him having to verbalize anything to you
the most Protective Person of all time, God forbid someone looks at you wrong!!!
showers you with gifts
you will LOVE this - he likes when you match in some subtle, or obvious, way, like the same pattern on your robes, the same gems on your jewels, anything that shows off your bond and shows that you belong to him and he belongs to you completely. 🤍
almost weekly he has night terrors and horrible dreams either about his childhood/how they were treated by their father, or about something awful happening to you. you always do your best to comfort him, knowing that you're the only one who can do that and the only one allowed to see him in such a state
so you whisper sweet nothings to him, like promises you would never hurt him in any way and that you will always do your best to protect him and love him
touch starved, touch obsessed, cannot sleep without you in the bed, cannot sleep when you are on a journey somewhere and misses you terribly; can barely wait for you to return and then grip you in his arms and just breathe you in
obsessed with your scent
very often you are his impulse control and you just have the power to center him when he's losing his grip on a situation
he is so used to being in control (or having to be), that he will really spiral when a situation is getting out of hand and he feels not powerful enough to stop or change something. he is really bad at holding it together when shit is going down, and half the time he seems to be two steps away from a breakdown. honestly, sometimes you just have to let him rage, panic, and vent it out in whatever way, and he will come back to himself- and to your embrace-shortly.
he needs your approval and appreciation like air. if you don't think he is doing a good job, if you don't think (and show) he is smart, capable, if he isn't the center of your universe, nothing else matters at all
he will combust if he doesn't have at least a hand on you at all times
sometimes he still can't believe how you love him - people who touch him usually either want something from him, fear him, despise him, or all those - your gentle touch is an unfamiliar, yet welcome sensation; he can't get enough.
let's be real he can get anything he wants from you when he looks at you with those gigantic brown eyes, but somehow he seems unaware of that (and you already give him everything anyway)
if big gatherings and constant celebrations aren your thing, he will not let you out of his sight and, as much as you need him there to comfort you, he needs you on his arm to feel happy, safe and fulfilled. you just complete each other. 💛
as much as he enjoys every single loving nickname you give him, especially if you call him 'your' anything - your love, your darling, your heart, your pride and joy - but even more he will melt if you just call him by his name, as one of the very few (if not only) person who utters it with love, softness, adoration...unlike many who spit it out hatefully like poison
Geta feels veryyyy smug and proud of himself when he does an act of service for you, such as giving you a massage or bringing you a drink - look at him, he gets served things left and right, but he remains SO devoted to you only.
well, was that something? leave it to me to humanize the worst (actually historical) person ever and give him some PROPER FLUFF🫠
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idolomantises · 6 months ago
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I find Sarcastic Chorus's video on why he's quitting Helluva Boss really interesting but I'm kind of baffled by the number of people straight up not understanding his reasoning for quitting. I think it's interesting how both his video and the online reaction to it is basically the consequences of modern fandoms treating art like its something to mindlessly consume and not worth analyzing and critiqing, or else you're consuming it "wrong".
Like his argument isn't that he hates the show or that he was forcing himself to criticize the show, in fact one of his main problems was that he couldn't be MORE honest in his reviews because of how fans would react to it. The problem was that when your job is to analyze a show, and it has way too many problems to ignore, and you're dealing with a hyper-sensitive fanbase that's hostile to criticism, you end up feeling exhausted or flat out disinterested in reviewing it.
I actually find it really concerning that fans are coping so hard with him quitting that they're framing it like its his problem because he was "looking for problems on purpose" when it was pretty obvious that it genuinely makes him kind of miserable trying to pick apart the show's issues. I remember when he was SO confident that Hazbin Hotel would be amazing and "prove the haters wrong" only for him to acknowledge that it was a complete mess. I'm honestly more confused by the fans who watch a reviewer and then get mad when he... reviews things. It's not even that they disagree with him, but the audacity to even point out very noticeable flaws in the product is enough to set them off and accuse him of being a clout chaser and a hater. Like do you want to see a review or did you just want to watch someone lie to you and blindly praise a series for 30 minutes, because i find it really odd that so many fans are insistent that he should've done the latter.
I also got pretty annoyed by this insistence that he wouldn't have turned on this show if he didnt criticize it and "turned his brain off" instead which is the same stupid excuse people gave for Hazbin's sloppy writing. and I just find that just... baffling? Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, as extremely flawed as they are, are clearly shows made with the clear intention of being taken seriously. Ffs the crew calls Helluva Boss "queer Bojack Horseman". Helluva Boss tackles topics like abuse, trauma, classism, racism, toxic relationships and redemption and Hazbin Hotel tackles themes like sexual trauma and abuse, redemption and religious oppression. But the problem is that both shows do it so poorly that people genuinely think that it's meant to be slop content that you're just supposed to turn your brain off and listen to.
I'm not going to forget when these fans were treating Helluva Boss's season 1 like peak queer representation and writing and insistent that Angel Dust was this amazingly well written gay male character that people only hated because he was messy and imperfect. Honestly kind of funny that I was chastised for saying that Angel Dust is just a sex joke only for the show, the crew, the merch, and even the damn playbill reduce him to just that. Slapping on trauma (especially knowing that its more of a fetish than a genuine exploration on male sexual abuse) doesn't really negate the fact that Angel Dust is poorly written. Side note: his fans are way too unhinged and aggressive, its getting very weird.
So its funny to me that now that Helluva Boss season 2 completely nose dived and Hazbin Hotel is a sloppy mess that feels more geared for children than adults, that now people are being told they're not allowed to analyze these shows or even pay attention to their problems, and are treated like idiots for doing so.
I think the problem is that I kind of think fans also notice the lowered quality of writing in both shows. because why aren't people actually defending the writing and character progression? instead of "Sarcastic Chorus is wrong because his criticism is incorrect and misses these points" its "Sarcastic Chorus is wrong because he should have shut his brain off and treated these shows like its cocomelon for adults"
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nobodyfamousposts · 6 months ago
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Scarlet Lady Top 10 Favorite Characters: Number 10
For @zoe-oneesama
Number 9 Here
Okay, I realized as I was writing these that there is way way WAY too much to each of these and why to be able to put them all into one post, so I'm breaking them down into individual essays focusing on each one to keep them palatable.
So without further ado....
Number 10: EVERYONE
Yeah, I know it may be cheating but at this point it was the only choice I could make.
I came to regret making this list, specifically because I couldn’t seem to make up my mind as far as who all would be on it. I reread the entire series. I kept switching people in and out as I was reminded of characters or scenes I loved. And I came to a realization that there is no character in the whole of this series I didn’t enjoy to some extent that they didn't deserve some love in this list and I kind of wish I could have added all of them just to give them all some spotlight.
Yes, it is partly because everyone is vastly improved compared to Canon. But as I reread the series, it came to mind that if Canon didn’t exist and I didn’t have the comparison between the characters, I still very much would have loved this series and everyone in it.
Cause and Effect Exist
It's important to have a setting in which the characters and their actions make sense for the world they live in. When the setting is supposed to be modern day earth, we need the people to be able to show that they are capable of surviving in it on a day to day basis without being so massively incompetent that they would do something like accidentally ingesting poison. Or forgetting how to breathe.
I would think it would be obvious, but sometimes Canon makes me wonder. Which is never a good look for a show that is supposed to have some level of seriousness and involve superheroes.
Here’s the thing Canon can’t seem to get: when a majority of the things that go wrong in a plot are because of everyone having to be stupid to make the plot work, you have a problem with the writing. Changing the material in a story so that younger people can enjoy it does NOT mean dumbing down the characters and throwing in arbitrary lessons with no real reason to them. Even if the show itself is geared towards kids, you can’t treat the audience like they’re stupid.
In Scarlet Lady, the people aren’t stupid.
Silly, yes. Wrong, often. Overdramatic, definitely. But while they may make stupid choices sometimes, they aren’t so dumb that anyone should have concerns about their ability to function at a higher level than an overcaffinated 2 year old.
They’re fooled initially the way many of us would be with a biased story that hits the news first. Oblivious to the problems in a situation that they logically wouldn’t have much direct insight into. Prone to making mistakes and incorrect judgement the way that anyone would. That's normal. That's expected.
But they’re not so incapable as to forget things that happen right in front of them between one day and the next. Or even between one scene and the next.
Things carry over. We see cause and effect. We see consequences—bad and good. And those consequences extend not only for the episode or season but for the entire series.
Aurore KNOWs Alec cheated her before and maintains a tight control over him and prevents more of his antics.
Adrien and Alya maintain a cold attitude towards Lila for some time after her reveal as a liar. And it even remains a point against her as used by Chloe as herself and as Scar to discount what she says.
The boys of the class remember Adrien’s “love letter to Marigold” and try to win him her merch because they’re bros like that. 
Adrien himself remembers the instances of his dad being a massive prick and instead of being surprised and “sad boi uwuwu” each time it happens like it’s supposed to be a surprise that the massive prick would choose to be a prick, he very clearly moves through the stages of grief to the point of a sort of acceptance that involves planning around and even for him.
Gabriel’s horrible parenting and general lack of concern for Adrien or his wellbeing as he ends up a casualty of various akuma attacks was played off for laughs when such incidents occurred. Then they were brutally called out against him in the Finale as a way to counter his claims of doing everything for Adrien’s sake. And the big reveal of the Birthday Scarf…utilized in the last way anyone would have wanted.
And Chloe is perhaps the biggest example as her antics ARE NOT forgotten or ignored by anyone. The classmates still interact with Chloe and are relatively nice to her, but they don’t just forget that she’s treated them horribly. They don’t act surprised when she does anything horrible. Nor does anyone just laugh it off or excuse it as “just who she is”. We see follow up to her behavior—the class fully expecting her to cause trouble and actively try to plan around it. People calling her out on past behaviors. And even bigger consequences as time goes on. Such as Adrien breaking off the friendship. And a blink and you miss it fridge logic moment in Ikari Gozen when you realize that when they said she was banned from all future Gabriel-involved competitions, they meant it.
The fact that by the time the big reveal happened that Chloe was Scarlet Lady, no one was shocked.
Story-wise, this is showing the passage of time and the effect the events of the story are having. It’s showing that there is lasting impact and that what happens to the characters matters.
Meta-wise, this is Zoe rewarding us for paying attention.
Continuity exists in Scarlet Lady. Time exists. The people exist. When anyone does anything, you get the sense that they aren’t operating in a vacuum. The things they do matter. There are consequences. There is an impact. And if there is an impact in the story, there will be an impact on the audience.
Which leads to…
Character Depth/Character Growth
Usually in TV shows of this nature, if there ARE character arcs for the side characters, they only occur over the course of a single episode devoted to focusing on them before moving on elsewhere. 
Canon didn’t give us that much at all in favor of having every episode that should focus on other characters learning and growing instead forcing Marinette to be wrong in some way and learn an arbitrary lesson that often would have better served for someone else.
In Scarlet Lady, the arcs we get are impressive for all that they’re relatively unobtrusive. They aren’t big. They aren’t world-ending. And the thing is, most change in life isn’t. It can just FEEL that way.
Like the way it felt for Kim when he first found out Ondine liked him and then had his confession to her screwed up.
And the way it felt for Kagami when she lost that first match against Adrien.
Then there’s the way it felt for Chloe when she was dismissed by her mother, had her popularity go downhill, and ended up losing her Miraculous.
…or the way it felt for Adrien when he discovered his dad was Hawk Moth.
The reactions we witness are in a great part due to actions outside of the characters’ control, but are ultimately a result of the experiences they have had and the ways they have changed as a result.
The question becomes: are the characters that we meet at the beginning pretty much identical to how they are at the end? Is the world?
The answer in Scarlet Lady is no.
Whether because the characters themselves change or our perception of them does, we can see that they have all undergone some sort of events that create a difference between the start and end points.
Not all of them HAVE to undergo some big emotional arc. Not all of them NEED to. But the characters still mostly go through some sort of growth by the end that I feel make them stronger and healthier people.
You’ve got the big life-altering changes like Lila and Sabrina.
You’ve got the little changes like Nino and Ivan.
You’ve even got the most minuscule, beginning stages of change in Chloe.
You’ve got growth that creates such perfect setup with Mylene when she starts off scared and traumatized by how things went with Stoneheart then is the one who confronts him in the end. And the parallel between the finale and the beginning when she returns him to normal by kissing him just like they did in that first episode to change him back then, too! (Just….GOD, I CANNOT GET OVER THIS!)
You’ve got them reaching out and making friends and relating to people they hadn’t before.
And by the end of it all, we get characters who feel like people rather than props.
They don’t all have to change. They don’t necessarily need to go through an entire emotional arc and back again. They just need to be part of the world they’re in.
Nino doesn’t just pop into existence when Adrien or Alya need someone to interact with. Kagami isn’t just a non-horrible or non-evil love rival for Adrien or a stepping stool for him to “practice“ at being in a relationship before it’s time for him to try the “real thing” with his endgame pairing. Luka isn’t just a decent guy who is the only actual form of support for the female lead and yet only lacking that precious “male lead” title or all around just not “Adrien enough” to fill the role.
Adrien isn’t just a “sad boy” meant to be a main love interest, Villain’s Morality Pet, and the one everyone idolizes and chases after just cuz he’s the male lead and that’s how you show he’s desirable I guess. Marinette isn’t the atlas keeping the story alive because no one else is apparently capable of learning lessons and changing, or even just the bare basics of functioning as individuals. Chloe isn’t just there to be horrible for no reason and get away with it so she can continue to be horrible until the writers suddenly need her to be sympathetic.
And the rest of the classmates aren’t just some Greek chorus there to fill the background.
We see them interact. We see them making jokes or jabs. We see them even…*gasp* having different opinions!
And on something as major and life-controlling as feelings about the “Hero of the City” no less! Why, that’s the sort of thing that would break up friendships and determine who you can sit next to at the cafeteria! The horror! The scandal!
And…oh hey. This puts the characters in different groups. It links them with characters other their Canonically designated pairings and groups. This lets them disagree on things and not need to vilify any of them. This creates implications that add depth to the story and to the people in it.
The characters can disagree without being enemies. They can be wrong without having to be evil. They can make mistakes without having to be stupid. And they can change and grow—both for better and worse.
And we see both and in different ways. SO many different ways.
Adrien goes from excited and impulsive to buckling under the forced responsibility and weight of a partner who hinders more than she helps.
Lila goes from selfishly bad and self-serving to selfish but friendly with better direction of her talents in a less self-serving way.
And Chloe just goes from selfish and bad to selfish and worse..
I mean, it says something that the combination of Lila’s growth and Chloe’s fall from grace resulted in Hawk Moth being unable to use Lila as a tool for his Heroes Day plot like he originally intended.
The key is that whether they necessarily grow or become better people, these characters are still IMPACTED by the events around them and AFFECTED as a natural result of the world they live in. 
You can’t help but feel for them in some way as a result. It’s part of why I love them.
The other part of why I love them is a bit more epic though…
Crowning Moments of Awesome
If there’s one thing I love, it’s seeing characters be awesome. I love it when characters get to be awesome. I would love to see more of it. Especially when the ones involved are characters you wouldn’t normally expect or get to see have a chance to shine.
And it’s when you see these characters be awesome that you really get the sense that yes, this character would work as a hero.
Seeing Max help against Robustus. Seeing Kim help against Odine. Alix stepping in during Pharaoh, calling out her brother’s fan fiction, and helping the heroes escape the security system at the Lourve. Alya stepping in during Copycat to clue Chat in to what’s going on and later keeping Anansi distracted to keep her away from Chat while he’s trapped. Rose kicking Nightmare!Chat in the face to defend Marinette even when she’s dealing with her own nightmares in Sandboy. Luka leading groups twice to stepping in and helping the heroes deal with akumas. Nathaniel standing up for Marinette and Sabrina when they’re accused in Rogercop and then helping the heroes in Reverser. Seeing the entire class step up to try and protect Marinette in Befana. Seeing all the friends working together to compete in the Friendship Contest in order to protect Adrien from a less serious but still potentially terrifying outcome.
These little moments of support make such a big different and really make it make sense that the heroes would trust these people with magical jewelry to help them in battle.
And the little moments of characters being petty or strong or smart or turning the tables or just showing off what they’re capable of. Even without superpowers.
Adrien getting petty revenge for Nino and finding a tactic to counter Gabriel in the future.
The Police Force in Rogercop just saying “Nope” to obeying an obvious akuma. 
Zoe manipulating akumas twice to help the heroes. Her two Reasons You Suck Speeches to her mom and Bustier.
Every instance of payback that Tikki gets against Chloe.
Everyone in the Finale. Just…EVERYONE in the Finale. The characters who manage to avoid akumatization by either spotting the flaws in the illusion or refusing to give in to fear and even protecting others. Nora smacking any akuma that enters the home. Claudie pulling off Power Mom and ordering Max to stop attacking the city then helping to calm him down. Prince Ali and Juleka freeing Rose by kissing her! Chris, Ella, Etta, and Manon saving Mylene! Mylene saving Ivan with a kiss in a direct callback to how they first got together in Stoneheart! (Yes, I am still stuck on that!) Ondine saving Kim! Lila and Sabrina saving Alix! Luka facing Riposte alone and unarmed and then Kitty Section saving Kagami! ALL of the Heroes making a final comeback to help take down Hawk Moth for good! Just—AAAAAH!
How could Miraculous have peaked with this in Season 2 when this is Grand Finale material? Because there are few things more awesome than getting to see ALL the characters the heroes met and befriended and helped throughout the course of the story stepping up at the final battle to help take the Big Bad down!
Like…can we just take a moment to appreciate how everyone gets a chance to stand out in some way? Not all of them necessarily good, exactly (looking at you Andre). But still stand out and be memorable. Even characters who didn’t originally get much focus. Especially characters who were originally functioning as cardboard cutouts to fill a scene.
Anyone remember Aurore? How for the FIRST akuma in the pilot of the series and one who is quite frankly the most interesting and noteworthy, we don’t really get to see her again except in the background.
In Scarlet Lady, we got to actually look in to the contest and how she lost as well as the aftermath. She wasn’t some arrogant showoff who deserved to lose to the “sweet down to earth rival”, she was a girl who legitimately tried her best and had valid reason to be upset. Seeing her get revenge on Alec for cheating and humiliating her on live TV was well worth it.
Or how about the Photographer? Just there to take photos of Adrien in the park for a photo shoot or be the school photographer, but otherwise has no personality and is only remembered for his weird “spaghetti” line.
In Scarlet Lady, his role is two-fold. He acts as a sort of supporter for Adrien in his crush. Taking really good pictures of him being happy with the girl he likes. Taking more class photos at the behest of this girl for the sake of a friend who missed out on the class picture. And then there’s his OTHER role as a sort of antagonist to Chloe. He becomes one of the only ones in the early seasons willing and capable of dismissing her tantrums.
They’re both given more character. They get moments to stand out and BE awesome. So is everyone.
EVERYONE. From the classmates and big named characters we see regularly to the side characters who only appear once or twice. They all get some good scenes and focus that give them their own identities. All of them are memorable. None of them can really be ignored or forgotten. And part of what made making this list so difficult was that I found myself getting attached to pretty much everyone as I came across each of them that I couldn’t quite make up my mind.
Everyone in this fic has done something to make me happy and warrant my approval. Even the characters I normally wouldn’t like at all had their moments to shine and elicit an “okay, that was cool” from me.
Thus I grant this spot to everyone. To all the characters I don’t get the chance to mention. To all the ones I like albeit somewhat less than others. To all the ones I know are horrible but can’t help but like regardless. To all the ones I fought with myself for THREE MONTHS over which one would get this spot.
I love all of them.
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violetarks · 1 year ago
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third year! bakugou katsuki thinks it's pathetic how everyone tries to ask you to be their valentine while you stand absolutely awkwardly and oblivious to their advances.
he rolls his eyes, scoffing at how you tilt your head and ask 'what do you mean?' when a new second-year tries to confess through a heartfelt letter a week before valentines day. he's sitting in the cafeteria, a few tables away from you where you stand with your tray. his friends catch his line of sight and begin to watch too as you awkwardly take the letter and mention how it's your favourite colour, what a coincidence.
"man, poor y/n." kaminari sighs, "been getting bombarded with valentine's day proposals."
"acting like you werent one last year." sero snickers, elbowing the blonde, who replies with 'shut up!'.
"y/n, todoroki and momo have to be the most popular third years. i saw todoroki carrying a fruit arrangement yesterday with 'be my valentine' on some flags." mina states, drinking her orange juice.
jirou retorts, poking her food, "did you see y/n's shoe locker when they opened it? they were basically drowning in all those letters. and their desk was full of teddy bears and hearts and flowers."
"yaoyorozu told me that she felt so bad because she rejected someone who choreographed a flash mob for her." kirishima inputs, "but seriously, so many people have tried getting with y/n, it's insane."
katsuki only rolls his eyes again as you thank the person, who runs away giddily. you're so uninterested in the person that you just pocket it in your blazer for later. katsuki chuckles at the action before returning to his food.
he thinks it's so funny that everyone is fawning over you. he understood todoroki and yaoyorozu, they've been popular since day one. but you? what did anyone see in you?
"hey, bakugou, are you alright?" you ask, standing in front of him on the porch of the dormitory. it's now five days later and he blinks himself back to reality and swallows the lump in his throat. "you were kinda' just staring at me and that girl just then..."
it's true, he was. a first year, some lovesick teen girl, came to confess to you just then. you hold some chocolates in your hand and a bouquet of roses in another. your third this week, he tallies.
"i—i wasn't." he stammers, looking away. he was leaning against the pillar, watching you as he took in some fresh air. it was pure coincidence, he says. "what... did you tell 'em?"
"i felt a bit sorry, she cried a little when i said i'm not a fan of this kind of chocolate." you express, showing him the box. katsuki smirks. you were so blunt. "i still accepted it though, to make her feel better. i don't even know her, though."
"strange." he responds, staring at you, "so what now then?"
"do you want it?"
"i don't want your fucking confession candy." he scoffs, furrowed brows. he's irritated at the offer and you just tuck the chocolates underneath your arm. "why'd you say 'no'?"
"i... don't know her." you state as if it was obvious. he blinks and looks away. "i dunno', i've been getting asked a lot recently."
"that so?" it's so pathetic, how anyone would trip and fall at your feet at the slight chance to share valentine's day with you. he could think of a thousand things better to do tomorrow than spend it with you—
"how come you haven't asked me yet?" you inquire, pursing your lips, "to be your valentine?"
"hah?" he huffs out, making the most outraged expression on his face, "what the hell did you just say to me?"
you sigh, opening the entrance door with your new gifts, "nevermind."
he stares at you as you leave him alone on the porch. questions swirl in his mind, making him think about you even more. is this how you made so many admirers? you just... made them think about you? you were absolutely crazy.
that's got to me the most pathetic thing about valentine's day, right?
wrong.
katsuki annoyedly drops the chocolates that he knows for sure you love. and as he passes the flower section, oh god, the amount of time he spent trying to figure out which ones were the perfect ones. the cashier looks at him knowingly, wishing him 'goof luck' on his endeavour. katsuki scoffs and tells them to shut his mouth.
what's pathetic is that katsuki readies himself for asking you. now that he's got confirmation that you were expecting him to, he would do it. he is standing in front of your dorm door, holding the flowers and chocolates and teddy bear in his arms. he knows you have hundreds in your room right now, but... he's pathetic.
when his hand goes up to knock on your door, the elevator reaches the floor and opens to reveal you in the sports uniform.
you walk up, typing on your phone when you look up to your dorm to see him. "oh, hey."
"hey." he mumbles, trying his best to hide the presents behind his back, "went on a run?"
"no, quirk training, actually." you respond, unlockong your dorm. you walk in and turn your head. "did you need to talk to me?"
"well... i—"
"are those for valentine's day?" you point to the flowers that are badly hiden behind him.
katsuki grunts, finally revealing them, "y—yeah... i don't know how to do this."
"come in." you say, inviting him into your dorm. he nervously enters and closes the door behind him. you sit at our desk, leg over your knee, almost like you're inspecting him thoroughly. "so, who is it for?"
he stops. "huh?"
"i mean, who are you asking?" you mumble out. he doesn't know what to say. do you not remember asking him to ask you yesterday? "you're looking for advice, aren't you?"
suddenly, he's on the fire. he's in the position that he made fun of those other people for being in. and it fucking sucks.
it takes all his courage to sigh out, "no... no, you idiot. i'm asking you."
"wha—? me?" you point at yourself.
"yes! here!" he practically shoves them into your hands and steps away away. "i... want you to be my valentine tomorrow. please."
his harsh tone makes you rethink his statement. but katsuki sees a smile dawn on your face regardless, something the others who have asked you haven't seen.
"thank you, bakugou. i love them."
he knows damn well you do.
"i'd be happy to be your valentine." you confirm, standing up and placing the flowers on your desk. you put the chocolates and teddy on your bed, smiling the whole time. he gulps in anticipation, despite you already saying 'yes'. "thank you, truly. it's perfect."
katsuki clears his throat, hands in his pockets and he looks away, "'s nothin'."
you chuckle and step towards him, hand on his shoulder as you give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.
"whatever you say. where did you wann' go tomorrow?"
he thinks it's pathetic how on valentine's day, you drag him to all the couple stalls and events, and even do a hand-reading (katsuki lets out a sigh of relief when they said that you two are quite the perfect match), but when it's with you, it's a lot less embarrassing to do it. in fact, he'd relive this whole day again if he could.
what's pathetic is how all those people thought they could have this time with you, when all you ever wanted was bakugou katsuki himself.
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o-sachi · 11 months ago
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Fell First & Fell Harder Pt. 1 ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars. (Request)
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ଳ you fell first, but they definitely fell harder ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, barou shoei, reo mikage, rin itoshi ଳ tags; fluff, gn reader, no y/n
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ᯓ Isagi Yoichi
"Hm? You wanna go get dinner? Of course. Let's go."
Getting your feelings reciprocated wasn't all that hard. You liked each other and it was all good then. But it was obvious that you took the relationship seriously early on. For a lack of a better term, it was quite one-sided for a while.
He'd be thinking about that fact a lot. Should he be happy? Should he be guilty? So so many thoughts racked his brain.
Eventually—after thinking about it so much—it's like his brain reprogrammed him. A switch was flipped and one day he was lovesick with you. He realized that life wouldn't be the same if you weren't there for him.
Everything you did for him—piled up—and his heart caved. Isagi thought he was the biggest fool for not taking you seriously as well when you first started off.
The whippest of whipped men—I tell ya. He'll indulge you in every little wish and desire you had. Absolute princess treatment from him. But he does unironically call you "queen."
ᯓ Barou Shoei
"What are you talking about? I've always been serious about you!"
The only reason he didn't pour in as much effort at first was because he was too focused on football and improving himself. You fully supported him and his dreams though. Instant brownie points!
He realizes how determined you are to stand behind him no matter what. Slowly, but surely, he builds up so much gratitude for your efforts that he softens over time.
He also realizes that you don't deserve to just cheer him from behind. As a matter of fact, you should be right beside him instead—celebrating his wins as if it were your own.
Barou tries to do the same and support you in the things you love. He'll even learn a thing or two about your hobbies so that you can bond over that as well. He tries so hard to make the relationship so equal and fair. His attempts give you the butterflies.
He will deny at all costs that he didn't love you as much as he did now. Barou will insist that he had loved you soooo much ever since. You knew he was sugarcoating to save your feelings, but it was endearing how he tried nonetheless.
ᯓ Reo Mikage
"New shoes? What about some jewelry? C'mon, let me spoil you a bit."
He was a bit reserved about your relationship at first. You were lovely and every positive adjective out there—but he had his reasons to be iffy. He's stinking rich and people have definitely taken advantage of that before.
However, you weren't like his previous lovers. You could care less about his wealth; you loved him simply for him. Painstaking as it was—you made sure that he'd realize that somehow.
And he does notice this. It was subtle, but he'd slowly ease up on you—becoming more open, spending more time with you, and being more affectionate overall.
You know he's wrapped around your little finger because he just introduced you to his parents. That's when you know it's getting SERIOUS.
When he does fall deeply in love with you, he does a whole 360 and starts spoiling you like crazy. He'll treat you out to 5-star restaurants, buy you designer brand clothing, and bring you to places all over the world. As much as you try to refuse and settle for something more lowkey, he will never back down.
ᯓ Rin Itoshi
"You're so annoying... yeah, yeah... I love you too."
He was hesitant at first because he has major abandonment issues (poor baby). He liked you, sure, but that was as far as he'd allow himself to fall for you. "Love" seemed too serious and dangerous for him to get into.
His doubts bled into your relationship and made it difficult. Truthfully, there were times when you questioned if it was worth it. But you persevered; you wanted to prove him wrong.
After a major fight, he was sure that you were going to leave without another thought. He anticipated this moment yet, he felt like he wasn't ready at all for your departure in his life.
Rin was about to go into an existential crisis when... you somehow came back to him. You smiled at him as if nothing had happened. You told him that you still loved him for all his faults. It felt like he was slapped across the face (in a good way).
Once you had helped him overcome his issues, he felt a bit more comfortable with the idea of "loving" you. So much so that he'd do everything in his power to keep you happy at all times. He was sure that he will never come across someone like you again in his life.
o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.
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untitledgoosegay · 1 year ago
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re last reblog I do see fanfic culture pushing/replicating a certain model of "what trauma looks like," "how trauma works"
this is a problem across all areas of society obviously, but transformative works are, well, transformative. they're about crafting and modifying narratives where the fan-creator sees a flaw or a lack -- often for the better! don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of "I take a hammer and I fix the canon," it's the main thing that gets my creative gears spinning -- but what happens when that "flaw" is simply a narrative not conforming to popular expectations?
some people just don't get PTSD from events that sound obviously traumatic. they're not masking, and they're not coping; they just straight-up didn't get the permanently-locked stress-response that defines PTSD. they walk away from a horrible experience going "well, that sucked, but it's over now." some people do get PTSD from events most people wouldn't find traumatic. we don't really know why some people get PTSD and others don't. but fandom has an idea of events that must be traumatizing, of a "correct" way to portray trauma. you see the problems with this lack of understanding in e.g. fans pressuring the devs of Baldur's Gate 3 to add dialogue where the player character badgers Halsin about his own feelings on his abuse -- because he must be traumatized, and his trauma must fit a certain mold and presentation of sexual trauma, under the mistaken impression that anything outside that narrow window is somehow "wrong" and disrespectful or even harmful to survivors.
take, for another example, the very common trope of a traumatized character who hates touch or sex "learning" to like touch or sex as a part of their healing process. certainly that can be healing for some people; other people will never like, or want, touch or sex, because of trauma or because they just don't. the assumption that someone who doesn't want sex or doesn't like to be touched must be traumatized, must be suffering from this perceived lack, is seriously harmful -- to asexual people, to people with sensory issues around touch, and to people for whom healing from trauma means freedom to refuse sex or touch.
and there's a secondary trope, one that's slightly more thoughtful but ultimately repeats the problem -- that once someone has learned that their boundaries will be respected, they'll feel it's safe to soften those boundaries. once they feel safe refusing touch or sex, they'll feel comfortable allowing it on their own terms. but many people don't, and many people won't! many people will simply never want to be touched, and never want sex, and they are not suffering or broken or lacking because of it. the idea that proving you'll respect someone's boundaries entitles you to test those boundaries -- the paradox is obvious, and yet this is something i've seen hurt (re-traumatize) people i care for.
people are imperfect victims. people don't heal in the ways you expect. many people have positive memories of their abuse, of their abusers. many people hurt others in the course of their trauma, in ways that can't easily be unpacked in a 5k oneshot. very few narratives of trauma and recovery actually fit the ones put forward by popular children's media and romance novels -- which are the ones I most see replicated in fandom spaces, because they provide the clearest narrative and easiest catharsis, and so they're easy and soothing to reach for.
that's not necessarily a bad thing! i am not immune to goopy romance tropes. i am not immune to teary catharsis. not every fic has to grapple with ugly realities. but there's a problem when these narratives become predominant, when people think they're accurate and realistic depictions of trauma, when the truth of trauma is unpleasant and uncomfortable, and doesn't fit any single narrative, let alone one of comforting catharsis
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shoyastars · 2 months ago
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Big thank you to @n0t-evenhere for looking over my fanfic! I appreciate the help, go check them out!
Now then! Onto the birthday celebration!
Birthday Photo - NSFW
April 30th - Ray’s Birthday
Headlines and even the news announcing the Hero Binary Star’s birthday. You sigh as you know how these things usually go, everyone will want to give your boyfriend or Binary Star their gifts and attention, while you just want to spend time with him. You can’t help but curse the NAHA for hogging him.
You bring yourself to be reasonable again, after all… if everyone’s favorite hero wasn’t able to be seen on his birthday then people might cause useless drama over it, however some people still criticized the NAHA for making him work on his birthday too. A double edged sword, if only he had a cloning ability… wait scratch that, you didn’t… who knows what type of shit he could pull if he had one…
You turned off the tv and decided to go back to making a cake instead of going to a store. He liked your cake last year, so why not do it again this year but with more practice and with the help for decoration from YouTube tutorials that you thought Ray would like. You were more confident in this one, but only setting a cake didn’t sit right with you… yes you did it last year, but what gift could you give him? He can buy anything he wants, of course you were an option, but it really didn’t make your thought easy. You sigh tired, as you hummed to a relaxing melody playing in the background, somehow causing you to drift off into sleep, you felt so relaxed your eyes completely shut..
The buzz of your phone against the table annoys you enough to reach for it, in your half asleep state, you yawn and manage to answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey Star, just wanted to call and see how you were holding up at home.”
Hearing Ray’s voice causes you to wake up instantly, looking at the date, you sigh in relief that you didn’t sleep the full day away.
“I’m good, just um… watching some tv and doom scrolling… a lot of things popped up about you.”
“I bet… but I’m more interested in spending time with you after all this…”
You felt your face head up, as much as he is supposed to have his birthday about him, he still can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you.
“Yeah yeah.. why make it about me though? Seriously if anything I should be more excited to see you today of all days.”
Ray chuckled as you smiled on the other end of the phone. Sometimes you wonder if you still were dreaming upon how the two of you crossed paths… it would’ve been one hell of a dream… but reality always has its surprises… speaking of surprises… his gift… many times have you thought of getting his gift for his birthday…. Yet… the obvious always settles in…. He can literally buy anything he wants or needs, but you were someone he’d rather have over any object he can use anytime.
“I’ll see you when you get home! Happy Birthday Ray.”
Ray smiles on the other end, a light pink across his face, hearing your voice was at all was definitely the best gift he’s had all day.
“Thank you Star.. I’ll see you soon.”
The beep as the call ends, the settling thoughts come in, you had no idea or at least have an idea for a gift for his birthday… maybe some would say it’s unnecessary, but you really couldn’t think of a better idea. You knew him well by now, you weren’t dumb not to notice. However… you were sure you didn’t have anything too interesting to the eye.
You saw an interesting thing come on your feed though, taking Burlesque photos… though they came up as a show for the groom during the wedding or at reception… you remember having a having a camera that could help you take one… it is old however.. you would have to see if it still works, after all what's wrong with this idea? If anything it’s been awhile since the two of you…
You shook your head and decided to go through with it, even if you end up regretting it later… At least you won’t have work tomorrow… all the better for it. At least you hope.
You searched for awhile, till finally finding the old thing. Though you wiped away the dust, you pressed the button to take a quick photo to see if it’s still useable, lucky it still does…. You did need a shower.. you didn’t like how sweaty you were after taking a nap.
When you did take pictures of yourself, looking at them now, you were hoping it was good enough, you took at least three, one you accidentally made blurry, the other you didn’t like, third you were ok with. You sigh as you then decide to at least keep it on your nightstand. You wondered how to actually give it to him after he comes back. Last time you tried to send him a photo of yourself, you immediately regretted it when you were running late to your job in the morning. So that’s off the table.
You wondered if you had a small box, maybe you could do one of those annoying open a box to another box…. No… that doesn’t even sound like a good idea for just one photo of you…
You looked online again, only find the people doing this were handing it to their partner, or had a whole damn photo book of themselves to give to their partners. You were annoyed at this point, you were starting to think this was a bad idea, you grabbed the photo when suddenly you hear the door open and shut.
‘Fuck! What time is it??’
“Star, I’m back!”
“Uh…”
You quickly turned off your phone and went to get the photo, you didn’t know what to do. Only for Ray to look over at you in your panicked state and wonder what exactly you’re worried about.
“Something wrong?”
“Nope! Nothin, nothin at all!”
“Star…”
“Aren’t you going to take a shower? You probably should go!”
You go to push his towards the bathroom as he looks confused, yes he was still in his hero suit after a long day, but he was mostly concerned for you.
“Star, what’s going on?”
“You just arrived at a bad time is all! Besides I need time… to do something…”
Ray looked at you, he really wished he didn’t promise to not read your mind unless it was an emergency.. He really didn’t like it when you hid stuff from him, but he seems more focused on your facial expressions. It’s become a new habit, when he finally caught on he only smiled a bit.
“Alright, I’ll be out soon.”
“Perfect! Ah! I mean… ahem! Just, don’t take too long.”
Ray chuckled at that as he closed the door behind him, you let out a sigh of relief, now you just needed to think, or at least whisper to yourself what exactly to do…
You didn’t want to just give him a photo, maybe… maybe it would be better if you and him were to-… you honestly were at a loss, why did you think this was a good idea?
Well… you took it, so you might as well go all the way.. you go to get something more suitable for tonight, you liked what you saw, he’ll probably like it too, however you also needed to keep things settled until the right moment to give it to him. When you went back to the kitchen for the cake, you made sure it was all good. You were hoping this will all work out. Despite the fact it was a trend online instead of an original idea for his birthday, you take a deep breath and as you mapped out a plan on how to give him this gift… or at least what you call a gift.
You heard the bathroom door open and close, when you saw him peak in you felt you’re heart racing. Ray seemed to notice you’re nervous movements, however you had to go through with this. You can’t just pull out now, you were a fucking villain before, you faced the dangers of criminal life in the shadows, and faced double, even though he nearly cut you’re finger off. You took the cake you made and Ray smiled as you placed it on the table. He patted you’re head, perhaps to ease you’re nerves.
It really didn’t help.
“Looks like you took time to make me a cake yet again, thank you Star.”
“I did my best to improve my baking skills this year, so enjoy it while you can.”
“I know I will, since it’s made from you.”
Ray took the fork you provided along with the cake, and as you did with your own slice. A bit of talking would pass as you slowly begin to ease you’re nerves over the surprise. You and Ray would eventually go to the bedroom you two would share when he stayed over, usually it’s just you’re bed but you and him would share it mostly. Ray would open the window and light his cigarette for a quick smoke. You begin to lay back in bed, Ray gives a small smile seeing you so relaxed.
“Tired already?”
“What can I say? Made a cake and waited for you to come back.”
“Sorry, can’t really help it.”
“No, it’s fine. After all… it’s a double edge sword situation where you have to go, if you didn’t fans would rally around.”
Ray laughed a bit at that, you looked at him as he did. Giving him a bit of a look.
“What?”
“Were you… nevermind..”
“No, tell me!”
“…Were you jealous of me getting all the attention from fans of that guy?”
You felt you’re face heat up, Ray begins to laugh again. You covered your face with a pillow.
“Shut up!”
“Star- it really isn’t that serious.”
“Really? Especially since they get you all day?”
Ray sighed and put out his cigarette, sitting beside you, as you peaked at him with some of your face still in the pillow.
“They can have Binary Star, but I recall that you wanted me, Remember?”
You grumbled into the pillow, but knew he was right. You could care less for Binary Star… you said you wanted him, so you have him. Yet again, Ray was alway the guy you fell for… so to say the people had him… was wrong.. because that wasn’t him but a mask he put on for a show he’s forced to play…
“Yeah… I guess, I’m just upset that I couldn’t spend most of my time with you.. especially on your birthday. I want to spend time with my Ray ya know?”
You laughed a bit awkwardly, Ray ruffled your hair smiling at you. You smile as you then go to fix your hair. You two shared a quick kiss before gone to get off the bed, only to stop.
“Something wrong-“
“What’s that?”
You looked where his gaze was, that’s when you remembered. The photo! You quickly go to reach it only for him to take it before you could. You immediately knew this was the moment you wished you could just disappear. Ray looks at the photo and you a couple of times, he runs his hand through his hair a bit, still sat on the the edge of the bed. You want to say something, but what? Surprise??? You hated how you forgot about one simple thing on your bedside table! So embarrassing… so humiliating how you didn’t go through with your plan!
“So uh.. this is you?”
“I- wanted to give you gift this time…”
“Oh, a gift huh?”
“Don’t start…”
He looked at you as you go to cover yourself with the blanket. After a bit you felt the bed shift by his movements, he moved the blanket away from you, meeting eye to eye now. You tried to look away but one of his hands cupped your face, his thumb moving over your bottom lip. You saw the look in his eyes, a familiar desire.
“I think it’s cute..”
He leaned in close to your ear, making you’re heart race again, you swear you were going to have a heart attack. His hot breath can be felt against it.
“However, I prefer the real deal. Wouldn’t you agree, my star?”
You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at his words, he chuckled at you’re reaction, moving away from you’re ear to look at you. Was he really teasing you right now? Well you did take the photo knowing he was going to be like this, so why are you still getting flustered like some teenage virgin reading smutty books?
“I didn’t know if that would be a good gift ether way so-“
“So, I’ll be sure to cherish this when I think of you.”
“Ray, what the fuck!”
“Ah ah! You said it was a gift.”
“I- well, true… but-“
“So easy to tease.”
“Fuck off!”
You cover your face with your hands, as much as you are glad he likes it. Does he really have to express what he’s mostly going to do??? What else would he do other than jerk it to your photo? Ray smirked as you kept you’re hands to your face. However, he wasn’t really planning on just teasing you.. especially after seeing you like that for him..
You felt as his hand went under you’re shirt, you immediately turned your attention to him.
“Ray- Wha!”
“What? Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting me to not adore you after giving me such a thoughtful gift.”
Feeling his warm hand trailing over your body felt good, you couldn’t resist it… you wanted it.. however a deep part of you still felt more embarrassed by the situation. Jesus Christ, why can’t you just pick a struggle today?
Small sounds of pleasure came from you as he began to kiss and nip your neck, you liked how he did that.
“Did you also plan ahead by picking out these clothes for easy access for me?”
“Shut… up..”
He let out a small laugh as his hand trailed down, you wanted it, you really did, his touch was drawing you in more and more. He really did know what he was doing.. him hearing the small gasps of pleasure were even better, he continued to treat you like this, he wanted you to know how much he loved his gift, this was definitely the best gift he’s been given all day, instead of those gifts those people though he might like… maybe for that guy, this though…. He loved this one more..
The small whispers of his name as he continued were beautiful to him, he always liked hearing you say his name. His name. No one else’s… you were his, he was yours. He hoped you knew that, even after all this time…
“Ray-“
“You’re doing amazing Star.~”
The time you let yourself go with him felt right, so safe, so good. Ray smiled at you as he went to take off both his sweater and undershirt, his scars and muscular frame now visible to your eyes, he leaned in to kiss you, a deep passionate kiss. Assisting you in taking off your clothes as you two were so lost in each other's lust. Finally hearing that stupid belt come off, you were both eager to continue this dance with each other. Hands intertwined as you continued to feel this pleasure with him, the moans between the two of you were sweet melodies to each other's ears, such passion, so much love for one another, it drew both of you in. Two broken souls, two who wanted to find each other, to try and become something beautiful together. The hunger along with the love in Ray’s eyes only further shows how you don’t regret your decision, and how you have no regrets.
The moan of your name with so much affection in saying it was enough to make you feel content, to feel so satisfied with this outcome. The two of you now breathless, sharing one more tender kiss. How close his face was to yours, causing the both of you to feel content in this moment. Just the two of you in this moment of bliss.
He cherished this gift, as you treasured his love for it. Resting in each other’s embrace, no longer a care in the world.
In the Morning, the sun shines on your face as you groaned in annoyance, you realized that your clothes were still on the floor as you woke up a bit, going to get off the bed proving impossible, your tired boyfriend clinging to you. You signed in as you ran your hand through his messy hair, a hum of approval from him as he kept his arms around you. This moment is counted as a beautiful moment of peace for you. You stayed like this for a couple more minutes, the rest of the day, despite it not being his birthday anymore, was enjoyed by the two of you.
Just being with you made his day all the more brighter, the people can have Binary Star, Ray on the other hand, was all yours. Forever and always.
You were His Star, as much as he was Your Ray.
Happy Birthday to our Favorite Hero! <3
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angstywaifu · 4 months ago
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Black Dahlia - 37. Disappointed (Garrick)
Summary: Both Garrick and Dahlia have survived the year in the rider's quadrant, but their now found relationship is already causing some issues for the marked ones.
Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)
Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links
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I’m thankful for the breeze that chooses to blow my way as I make my way down the path. Despite being late in the evening, the sun having set long ago, the summer heat was still notable. My black cloak only making it worse. The things we do to make sure no one can tell who we are if they do see us.
“You’re late.” Xaden states as he looks over at me from where he leans up against a tree.
“Barely. Not easy to sneak off when there’s no classes or outposts I can say I’ve been called to.” I tell him bluntly.
He nods in agreement. We might be in third year now, but the week between years is usually quiet for all cadets. Barely any classes to attend, and only preparation for the new first years being a priority for anyone in leadership roles.
“She’s not exactly easy to fool either. You’re going to have your work cut out for you.” Bodhi adds as he smirks at me knowingly.
As much as I wanted to snap back at him, he wasn’t wrong. Dahlia was easily one of the smartest and observant people here. Something that was seriously going to be an issue now I’d publicly laid out my feelings towards her. Yes I had been known for sleeping around here and there. But never once had I shown public affection towards someone. Especially like that. But it was fucking worth it.
“Yes, which is why we need to discuss this. How the hell do you plan on hiding our supply runs from her?” Xaden asks with a raised eyebrow.
Yeah. That part I did not think through. Last year it was easy. I hadn’t really gotten to know her till later in the year, and even then it wasn’t like we were hanging out every day. But now, it was going to be significantly harder.
“We just use the same cover up we’ve always discussed. Say we’re out doing third year things. Second years aren’t told about what we go do.” I say with a shrug, walking over and leaning against one of the trees.
“Or we just tell her.” Bodhi says as if it’s the most obvious answer. “We know she’s trust worthy. And she’s defended us on countless occasions. And if she knew what was going on I think she would help.”
The thought had crossed my mind many times once it was clear she was not like her family, and shared very different opinions. Especially with her comments on Reunification Day. But the only way to be certain was if we could read her mind. And that wasn’t something we had access to.
I look over at Xaden who furrows his brow, as if thinking what to say. “That’s a big if. We can assume all we want, but without knowing her intentions it’s too much of a gamble.” His voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.
“So now you choose to get iffy on her intentions? At the start of last year you were the one telling him to give her a chance and she wasn’t like her family.” Bodhi adds, angrily gesturing towards me. “And now you’re starting to talk like she could be.”
“This is different Bodhi.” Xaden snaps at him, narrowing his eyes at his cousin. “There is a lot more at stake here. All your lives are on the line if the wrong person gets involved or finds out. Especially not with Dain’s signet. I can’t risk him touching her and finding out.”
Bodhi scoffs and shakes his head. “He’s just as likely to get his hands on her as he is us. Hell she can probably shield him out better than we can with the work she’s been doing to control her signet.”
“He’s right.” I say as I hang my head. I hated having to lie to her. Having to hide this. She was going to be pissed when she found out, because one day she would. “We can’t verify what she would do with the knowledge. One day when we’re ready she can find out.“
Bodhi looks between us and shakes his head, clearly disappointed in the outcome. “Let me guess, you’ll let her train any first years that cross the parapet and need help though?”
“She’s good at combat. She’s nearly got as many patches as Garrick now. I’d be stupid not to.” Xaden tells him. She’d already gotten the most patches of her year for how many weapons she was proficient in. We’d be stupid not to ask for her help, though I’m sure she would offer it all of her own accord. “All your lives are on me. And I’ll be damned if I don’t use the skills of those around me to make sure you all survive.”
“But you’ll keep her in the dark just because of her last name. I thought we were past this with her.” He says sadly, clearly knowing he’s lost.
I hate agreeing with Xaden. I want to fight for her like Bodhi is right now. But there’s too many lives at risk.
“We'll let her in one day Bodhi. Just not yet.” I tell him.
Bodhi turns and looks at me, guilt coursing through me with how he looks at me. Disappointed. Yeah… so was I Bodhi.
@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus
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marsmaximoff · 6 months ago
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🎄; 25th of december ❄︎⋆˚⊹☃︎
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content warning: fem!reader. pure fluff. many curses. reader is 20 and calls him “dym” as a short name, he calls her “love, darling and my love”. they’re dating. let me know if i missed something.
word count: 732 ❣️
author’s note: i wasn’t planning on posting anything for Christmas, but i got this idea and i had to write it. so, i apologize if the quality is not that good, as i usually spend days on my writings while this was all done on a matter of hours. also, english is my third language, so i’m sorry for the mistakes. constructive criticism is welcomed as always. thank you so much for the support on my last post, and merry christmas everybody! 🤍 happy hanukkah, kwanzaa, diwali or any other celebrations too 🫶🏻 and if you don’t celebrate anything, have a happy end of the year ✨ p.s.: god im in love with dmitri and almost no one is posting anything, i’ll probably post more of him. anyways, enjoy!! <3
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the silk grazes my fingertips as i stretch my arm. i tentatively palm the bed looking for some warmth, for him. but the sheets and pillows are the only things left around me.
the screen of my phone clears up as i blink. 11:28 a.m. with a bit more of focus, the notifications slowly reveal themselves and my eyes travel through them searching for his name. nothing. he’d have texted me if something had requested his presence back at the office. although, he couldn’t have business to deal with on Christmas, right? not this soon, at least.
the pearly white snow greets me through the window making me stand up with a smile. how gorgeous. i make my way to the kitchen to grab something to drink while knotting my robe, and the shiny decor welcomes me effusively. i don’t realize at first, but a big and unfamiliar shadow catches my attention from the corner of my eye while i open the carton of juice.
“holy fuck. dym?”
our christmas tree, stunning as always, lays now almost drowned in presents. in fact, the stack is such, that i can’t even make out the floor for a good four-five steps. some light chuckles behind my back fill the room with the warmth i’ve been craving since i woke up. “beautiful, isn’t it?”
i turn around to dmitri sitting on the couch, staring at me with a huge grin. as if that number of gifts was the most normal sight in the world. “what the hell?” “you’ve had me waiting, darling. did you sleep good?” he asks affectionately.
“what are you, on your Santa Claus era?” i say looking at the presents again. he grants me that laugh that i adore so much as i try to give them a quick count, but after the twentieth, it starts to feel simply bonkers. they’re not even small ‘little treats’, oh no. there’s large boxes and bags everywhere.
“seriously, are you giving gifts to your whole fucking building? or is every one of your men getting one?”
“wrong. and. wrong” he says proudly, and once he’s in front of me, he just smiles. there are obvious love and joy in his eyes, which sends a cute fluttery feeling to my heart. “dmitri-“ his lips seal my words with a gentle kiss. “merry christmas, love”. a sparkle makes space on his gaze that could so easily compete with the star of the tree itself. wait. oh. oh. there’s no way.
his hands take mine and softly walk me towards the swimming pool of gifts. then, he sits close by and points at them with his head. “come on, darling. you’ve had me feeling all impatient”. he looks so excited. so cheerful. but i can’t help the slight guilt that takes over me. “dym, you’re crazy. tell me these are not only for me. you can’t- god do you even have an idea of how many there are?!” “40”. he doesn’t even take a single second to think about it. seriously, what the actual fuck? “two for every christmas i couldn’t spoil you in” this has to be a damn dream. “we’ve been friends since school!” i say grinning. “but we weren’t dating. so it doesn’t count. i wanted to make it special.” “you really didn’t have to” i refute. “i wanted to. please don’t make me wait anymore i need to see your reactions”. with a final glance, i turn around and grab the first one. “ohhh you’ll love that one!”
how can he be so cute? he wasn’t wrong, tho. it was a special edition of one of my favorite books. during the next hours, i go one by one, filling the room with gasps, yells, curses and many “oh my good”s and “thank you so much”s.
by the end of it, i’ve got clothes, books, headphones, plushies, a phone, jewelry, plane tickets, merchandising, signed stuff from famous people i love, and the cherry on top; a new car.
“you are mad. i love you so much but you’re mad” i say hugging him still shocked. “madly in love with you, you mean” he answers pulling back. “you liked them, then?” “loved them” he gives me another kiss, longer this time. “good. merry christmas, my love. i love you” he adds.
he can only hope i’ll love the ring just as much.
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alwaysless · 4 months ago
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posh gang as chess pieces lets discuss
We all know that Annabel treats other characters like chess pieces. Annabel herself is the queen, and Lenore, from her point of view, is the king who must be protected at all costs. I admit, however, that Annabel may be wrong about this, because unlike the chess king, Lenore is quite an active participant of the game. Interestingly, in this frame, the king is white (Annabel's color) and the queen is black (Lenore's color). Perhaps this is a reflection of how their roles changed after death, or perhaps it means that Annabel initially misinterpreted their positions with Lenore.
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As for the others, in the comic Annabel clearly says that Prospero is a bishop and Monty is a rook. I would assume that Duke is a rook as well, solely because it makes Annabel's attempt to save Lenore by immuring him in the wall a castling.
What about the other characters? I won't consider the misfits but I want to talk about Ada and Will, as the last members of Annabel's group.
Will is obviously a pawn. Most people don't take pawns seriously, and they're not even always considered pieces in the game. Will is at the bottom of the characters hierarchy, he is nothing more than a tool to achieve other people's goals, even misfits treat him very leniently, absolving him of responsibility for his actions. And I mean it in a bad way, as if they see him as an extension of Monty's willpower, and not as an independent person. I love Will, but seriously, what reason did they have to stop Monty in that one scene?
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However, many underestimate pawns. They have a lot of advantages: they are numerous, and this reflects Will's ability to clone himself. What's even more obvious is that when pawns reach the end of the board, they can transform into any other piece, just like Will can transform into other people. This is one of the many things that make me think of Will as a dark horse among the cast: after all, every pawn can become a queen. A pawn can replace any piece on the board except the king, but no piece can replace a pawn.
In addition, pawns usually open the game. Either pawns or, a little less often, knights.
And now we're moving on to Ada. In fact, at first I've chosen a knight for her by elimination, because all the other pieces are already occupied. But let's be honest: it suits her. In the first season, Ada has long been one of two characters (along with Morella) who "torn" between the two groups, so she is the most unpredictable among the entire cast. You never know what to expect from her. Similarly, the knight's movements cannot always be predicted, because unlike other pieces, knight "jumps" through the diagonals, stepping over chessmen just as Ada is ready to go over students heads. In addition, Monty calls Ada his "ace in the hole," that is, his unobvious advantages. This also corresponds to the style of playing knights, whose moves are often simply not read by the opponent in advance.
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An interesting feature of the knights is that when attacking it, the attacking piece remains safe, because the knight needs space to move, it is useless up close. When Ada is attacked by other characters (and this happens all the time), she cannot defend herself. The only exception is her first manifesting against Prospero, but even in that scene she is technically unable to protect herself. She just snaps at him and uses violence, which in the long run does not change his attitude towards her. No one begins to take her feelings seriously, she remains alone and becomes an easy target for Monty. He gets as close to her as possible, and she becomes defenseless.
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However, when she finally does have the strength to attack? She is unstoppable, deadly, she will sweep away everything in her path. You can attack the knight without the risk that he will respond, sure thing. But if the knight attacks you? Good luck.
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As someone once told me on this website: let Ada become her own knight. The girl deserves it.
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