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toukatan · 3 years

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You read every gojohime fic???? That's amazing!!! What are your favourites?

hello anonie! i guess i can say i’ve read at least a good 80% of all the fics, at least. probably. most likely because the fic tag at the start of the year was tiny and now the community’s grown so much there’s almost 600 of them. that’s insane to me. like hello?

i have a lotta fics that come to mind, that i should honestly make a master post on because i love them all. so here are a few many that came to mind immediately as i typed this up.

gojohime fic recommendations!

multichapter

limitations by ohmytheon

“Parenthood chooses you," her mother used to tell her, but Utahime never understood that saying more than the moment she realized she was pregnant with Gojo Satoru's child. They were never meant to be something serious - never meant to be more than they were - and yet they both suddenly find themselves in a world that doesn't care about their desires - and that brings them closer in a way that no one else can understand. It won't be easy and it won't be kind to either of them, but it appears as if the universe has other plans for them

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon

The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

and touch me like you never by ohmytheon

In public, Gojo is a special grade bastard, especially to Utahime, and has been all their lives. He knows exactly what insults to throw and what buttons to push to drive her up a wall. In private, however, he's got quite a few other things to tell and show her, which only makes things more confusing. It would be easier if she could avoid him entirely, but for some reason, he won't let her go entirely.

gravity by aerfei

This is Utahime, fierce and indomitable, and this is Satoru, who despite holding the world’s regard, still craves something that Utahime has had all her life. Coming together is sometimes an act of desperation, and sometimes a deliberate choice. Or: An Iori Utahime character study, through the lens of her relationship with Gojo Satoru, starting from the beginning and ending at the Goodwill Event arc. Manga spoilers and (at least 95%) canon-compliant through (at least) chapter 135.

count every single leaf in autumn by florieneofthesea

“I told my family we’re dating.” Utahime’s hand hovers over the door. “What?!” (or: Gojo tells his family that he's dating Utahime to get them off his back, so of course they invite her to the dreaded family dinner™)

favourite colour by otherthingsonhold

At 28, Satoru Gojo's responsibilities only start to multiply. With his clan looking to him to lead the family, and the balance of the universe in his hands, Gojo isn't thinking of much else. But when his mother brings something to his attention, the only thing Gojo can do is follow through. But how is Utahime Iori part of all of this?

gojo catoru by ashittywriter

Utahime is tasked to catsit a suspiciously large Persian dollface cat with pristine white hair, the most boop-able nose, and to top it off the cutest cerulean eyes. Too bad the cat also happens to be her idiotic colleague Gojo Satoru.

at the tail-end of spring by florieneofthesea

Utahime doesn't expect to remember her ex's number off by heart but it comes in handy when she's a little less than sober outside a club in a city she's not familiar with and her battery on three percent. She just wishes things turned out differently for them. (Or, post-break up exploration where outer forces refuse to let them have their happy ending.)

a second chance by onewordmore

In another world, it wasn't Geto who sneered down at humanity, regarding them to be worthless monkeys that deserved to die. In another world, it wasn't Geto who openly defied the Jujutsu Council and brought down terror and fear to all. In another world, it wasn't just Amanai Riko who died that day, amidst the cheers and delighted cries of the insane. And Utahime was going to learn, first hand, the consequences of her own death.

from you to me by onewordmore

A drabble series regarding Gojo and Utahime. From fluff to smut to angst to love. This is going to have it all.

oneshots

oceansize by aerfei

The marriage is arranged by their families, small clans both, with all their hopes and traditions laid gently upon the shoulders of their only heirs -- and yet, this distance is impassable.

under the cover of darkness by ohmytheon

It takes a little alcohol, early morning hours, and a game of truth or dare for Gojo and Utahime to admit some difficult truths to each other.

risk/reward by ohmytheon

No punishment had ever been more effective in making Gojo do his actual job than receiving praise from his secretary - or more grueling than when Utahime withheld it.

like a good roommate by ohmytheon

Utahime has a problem: her bed wasn't delivered to the new apartment. Her ridiculous roommate, Gojo, has a solution - but he's kind of panicking on the inside.

aware of us by halspur

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Gojo put his phone down after taking several dozen photos of Tsumiki walking across the stage, his eyes soft. “I mean, we were just kids, too.”

love song by halspur

“Because you’re weak.” Gojo said, muffled into the thin skin of her throat. “I can’t leave you alone.”

tear you apart by halspur

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Utahime’s cheek was pressed into his spine, her voice muffled. “I like you.”

cuddles are for clean boyfriends by just_trying_my_best_everyday

Utahime finds Gojo Satoru sitting right behind the door, blindfold hanging on his neck, completely soaked in blood and petting her cat with both hands. And he stinks.

honey by florieneofthesea

Gojo Satoru experiences love a decade before he fully realises it.

roots by florieneofthesea

At the start of winter, Utahime starts to cough up blood. She thinks maybe its just the lingering damage from her last mission, but the coughing persists and it starts to scratch her throat, and itch at her lungs and when she finally makes the trip to Tokyo to ask Shoko for her help, she doesn't even get the first word out. Shoko welcomes her at the entrance to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School and Utahime hacks up a single, pale blue petal, smattered with blood. She stares down at the flora on the ground and wonders if she's been cursed. Utahime looks up, and Shoko's eyes are wide.

to have and to hold by ashittywriter

“M’sorry," Gojo said his voice slurring at the end. "But please go away, I have a girlfriend." Utahime blinked in confusion. What the fuck?

souvenir by PrettyKittyLuvsU

“Aha!” Gojo tugged something out of his pocket, his long fingers curled around it as he held his hand behind his back. His other hand waved before him, a cheeky grin splitting his lips. “Ora, ora! Hold out your hand.” Utahime stared flatly. “Ora, ora!” Gojo persisted, continuing to wave his hand as he grinned. “Hold out your hand already!” Utahime scowled at the hand swaying infront of her face. She had half a mind to slap the man instead, but her students were closely watching. Even Gojo’s students, the second years mainly—for Sukuna’s vessel was apologizing profusely as the brown haired girl continued kicking him while the quiet one made no effort to stop her— looked in fascination at whatever ridiculous souvenir Gojo wanted to hand her. Utahime slowly lifted her arm, already planning on throwing the thing back in Gojo’s annoying face. Gojo gets Utahime a very special kind of souvenir. Set during the start of the Goodwill arc.

dayum this exposes me huh? i do be reading a lot but what can i say i love to see it. all these fics are amazing, to the writers y’all are doing fantastically like my goodness you be really putting ya girl in a loop with some of these fics with your plot-lines and doing it flawlessly. can’t thank them enough for them, their hard work and time!

be sure to show the writers some love and support with comments, bookmarks and fight that dayum kudos button when it smiles at you because lemme leave more—

i think they’d really really appreciate it when they hear the bing and be sure to check out all of their stories including the ones in the pairing tag! happy readings 😙✨

#there’s so much more. i gotta make a master post but yeah send your love to the writers #they’re amazing and deserve all the love and support #🤍💫✨#gojohime #fic rec #anon #asks #replies #nitatalks

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sciderman · 3 years

Photo

Was going through some old writing files (of which there are hundreds!!) and stumbled across a high school AU I was writing a while ago! (an actual one! not a tantalising dream-sequence involving cheerleaders, though we all know I love those...)

I don’t know if I’ll resurrect it, but there’s a bit of fun to be had - Peter’s anger issues are something that I’d like to see explored more in spideypool fic, and I just... I love high school AUs okay...

Read some of it under the cut!

-----------------------

“What’re you in for?”

“Something stupid.” Peter grumbled.

“Love it.” The boy said, grinning. Peter noticed a missing tooth. “I hid a frog in the student counsellor’s desk. You should’ve seen him scream.”

Peter was quiet, but his lips quirked.

“Immature”, he eventually said.

“The guy’s a dickhole. And,” the blond rocked on his chair, buzzing, “technically, I saved a life.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Saved the frog from one of the labs. They were gonna slice him open. Imagine you’re just sitting on your lily pad one day. Chilling. And then some jackass scientist scoops you up and cuts you open. Starts prodding inside you. Gross.”

“Okay, yeah, gross.”

“My name is Wade, bee-tee-dubs.”

Wade. Peter remembered. He’d only joined the class at the beginning of last semester, and sat near the back of the class. He hadn’t recognised him by his face because he’d always had his hood up. Not that Peter had ever paid enough attention to his peers to remember them by face anyway.

“Uh.” Peter said, eyeing the hand he was being offered as a greeting. He didn’t return the handshake, but he responded with a simple “I’m Peter.”

“Cool.” Wade nodded, looking at his feet, heels bouncing off the linoleum floor. His shoes were scuffed and worn.

A moment of silence passed. Both boys turned their attention to the floor, as though it were suddenly the most interesting feature of the room.

Peter side eyed his company, in the moment of quiet. There were shallow craters on the boy’s face, Peter noticed, like chickenpox scars that hadn’t fully healed. Wade definitely seemed conscious about it, with his hood being nearly always drawn, and his shaggy hair that often covered his face.

“Peter Parker.” The principal called, peering through the door at the boys. The principal glared at Wade, who put up his hands in response. Clearly Wade was a regular.

A wave of smugness came over Peter, who leant in close to Wade.

“I broke Flash Thompson’s arm.” Peter whispered, before standing up to enter the principal’s office. For a second Peter saw Wade’s face light up, like that was the coolest thing he had ever heard.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mr Parker, I recognise you’re going through a tough time – And I’m sorry.”

Peter sank in his chair, eyes fixed on a hole puncher sat on the desk.

“I understand you must be going through a lot of emotions at the moment, but you,” the principal wrung his hands, “you hospitalised one of your classmates. Eugene Thompson –”

The principal’s voice faded in and out of Peter’s attention. As usual, he stood alone on Planet Peter Parker.

He thought about Aunt May. Her eyes, pink and puffy. Thin hands trembling as she held them by her mouth, recounting all she remembered about that night to the police. The police, who with empty looks, mechanically took down notes. Jaded. Like a family hadn’t been just destroyed. Like a good man hadn’t just been murdered in cold blood.

Peter's uncle was a humble man. Simple, but good. He wasn't ambitious, or gifted, or clever. But he was wise.

Clever. Wise. Peter hadn't understood there was a difference between the two.

He took him for granted, Peter admitted to himself, as he cried that night, and the days following. He cried for the first time in months. Months of distancing himself from the world, before the world decided to stage a head-on-head collision with him.

“Peter? Peter, are you listening?”

Peter at last looked up, and with the movement, a tear managed to escape his eye. He brought the heel of his palm up quickly to wipe it away.

“Look, son, I want you to see the student counsellor tomorrow.” The principal said, taking down a note. Peter scowled at the pen, as it scribbled. “It will help, Peter. I want you to see the counsellor every Tuesday and Friday, last period. We’ll keep track of your healing process.”

Peter took the note when it was offered to him, and pocketed it without a word. He turned to leave.

“Peter. I didn’t dismiss you.”

Peter sighed, turning back, red-eyed and tired.

“I’m sorry about your uncle. But when Eugene returns, you will apologise.”

Peter swallowed, voice quiet when at last he spoke. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Whether that was true or not, Peter was still undecided on.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The school day dragged at an excruciatingly slow pace. Peter couldn’t hear the teacher. All he could hear, all day, were the whispers amongst his peers. Right now, Peter wished the walls he built to keep the world out were soundproofed.

“Did you hear? He put Flash in the ER.”

“Puny Parker? No way.”

“He’s an absolute freak.”

“He’s probably really screwed up right now, guys. I think his like, Uncle died or something.”

Peter snapped his pencil.

“Can I be excused, miss?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter ran as fast as he could out of the school doors, gasping in air as deeply as he could. He was at his breaking point. If everyone in class saw him crying, he’d really never hear the end of it. He’d be seeing the school councillor until he graduated.

The air was cool but his face was scalding hot, tears streaming down his cheeks. He buried his face in both hands and screamed. With all the effort he could afford he tried to steady his breathing. In and out, in and out, until he started to feel lightheaded.

He could’ve broken the school doors off its hinges. He could have slammed his fists so hard on the walls, until they crumbled, or he did.

He threw a kick so hard on a nearby trash can that it flew across the courtyard.

He hated this school. He could’ve tore it down right where he stood.

“Dude.”

Peter turned so fast his head nearly knocked off his shoulders. Wade stood, back against the wall, casual as anything. He had a cigarette in hand.

“You’re an animal, dude.” Wade said, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Peter’s mouth hung open, finding it difficult to find words. He brought up a sleeve to wipe up his face.

“I, just. I –”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I hate this place.”

Wade nodded, a calm demeanour about him that almost served to calm Peter by osmosis.

Peter Parker was always a very rational boy. Quiet. Reserved. He never lost it like this. He’s never –

“I heard – about your uncle.”

Peter’s eyes were exhausted from crying, he couldn’t afford anymore tears. Peter’s entire body felt it was going to sink through the earth. And Wade could see it. Wade could see it on Peter’s face. He looked to Wade for mercy. To let him fall off the planet’s surface.

“Listen, if it were me I’d – I’d kill him. I’d kill whoever did it.”

Peter was quiet. Wade’s words felt like an electric jolt, sobering him up.

All the hollow words of consolation had left him numb, but this rang through Peter’s ears.

Eventually Peter found his voice again.

“You’d kill him, but you’d save a frog?”

“Yeah.” Wade said, as if it were obvious. “The frog didn’t do anything wrong.”

Silence followed. Peter couldn’t look up from the ground. His hands formed fists at his sides.

All the way home, Wade’s words replayed in Peter’s head. I’d kill him. I’d kill whoever did it.

The police were apathetic. Crimes go unsolved. And that made Peter’s blood boil hotter than it ever had. The thought that someone – out there – would be getting away with it.

That Aunt May might always carry that hollow, broken look in her eyes.

Later that night, Peter threw on a red hoodie, pulling the drawstrings tight. He snuck out his bedroom window, like he did every night.

News reports tell of an escaped robber cornered in a building downtown.

#spideypool #fanfic #high school au

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writings-of-a-british-fangirl · 4 years

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Everything Has Changed [Zuko x Reader]

Title: Everything Has Changed Summary: Even after returning to the Fire Nation, you weren't happy. Zuko on the other hand seemed to be having a lot better time. Maybe, he would be better off without you here, ruining his happiness. Warnings: A little bit of angst? Request: N/A

A/N: This wasn't requested, but I've been rewatching ATLA recently because it's been added onto Netflix and I'm feeling inspired <3

PART 1: EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED PART 2: CHANGE IS GOOD PART 3: CHANGING SPIRITS PART 4: A HEART OF CHANGE

Zuko~Everything Has Changed

You'd been Zuko's best friend for as long as you could remember. And, although the friendship hadn't always been easy -the Prince had quite a famous temper- you couldn't even imagine a world in which you weren't friends. This is why the inner turmoil you were feeling inside was making you feel all the more guilty.

You had returned back to the Fire Nation when Zuko had reclaimed his honour by fighting the Avatar along with his sister, Azula. Since you didn’t side with the Avatar and the 'traitor' Iroh, you'd been welcomed back with open arms. However, it wasn't quite the life you were expecting. You were still happy for Zuko! Of course- this is what he'd always wanted. In fact, you'd always supported Zuko in his journey to find the Avatar but something about this felt wrong. Especially since Aang had helped Zuko's uncle, Iroh, to find and rescue Zuko from the caves under Ba Sing Sai.

So, now you were stuck in a very difficult position.

It had almost been a month since you and Zuko had returned to the Fire Nation, and yet you'd barely spoken a word to each other. Once, you had felt like he was the only soul in the universe that understood you completely… And, now? It felt like you didn’t even know him. He'd been far too busy celebrating the fact he was now recognised as the Crown Prince. You'd also noticed that he'd been spending more time with Mai- along with Azula and Ty Lee.

That didn’t sit right with you. As long as you live, you promised yourself you would never trust Azula. Where she was involved, it meant trouble. She was the type of person that always had an ulterior motive- even when there didn't seem a need for one.

And, as for Ty Lee and Mai, you just saw them as Azula's attack dogs. Not that she needed help fighting people, but you couldn't exactly call them her friends. Azula didn't have friends. That required her to care about other people. The only way she knew how to relate to people was through fear. Yet another reason you found to keep as far away from her as possible.

Zuko seemed to be doing the same to you. Maybe him and Azula were more alike than you thought.

You had gone down to the Royal Gardens for some peace. As much as the 'Hero's Welcome' was a good ego booster, it wasn't good for the soul. And, right now you were doing some serious soul searching. You'd helped the Fire Nation. You'd fought the Avatar. You should feel good. Right? Except you didn’t, you felt awful. When Aang was shot down, all you could see was a child. A 12 year old kid who hadn't chosen this role in the world. Who was just trying to survive. Who was trying to help the universe.

Sighing, you put your head in your hands. What had you done? What had Zuko done? You thought of Uncle Iroh… How you had betrayed him. You told yourself that you were doing it to survive, that you couldn’t survive a Fire Nation Prison, but the truth was that you were a coward. A coward who couldn’t do the right thing.

You hadn’t realised you had started crying until your tears had slipped down your cheeks. Quickly, you wiped them away. Crying was weakness.

Your attention was caught by a small turtle duck quacking loudly. He appeared to be suck in a weed within the pond, meaning he was separated from his family. You could sense his distress from where you sat. Gently, you moved to the little creature, and slowly removed the weeds from around the turtle duck. Hurriedly, he swam to his mother, who welcomed him immediately. You watched the family of ducks swim happily away. Together. Loved.

"Why can't I just be like you, little turtle duck?" you murmur to yourself, "You seem so happy. I wish I could feel like that again."

It was only then you noticed how dark it had gotten. It was best to return to your room before the guards started asking questions- and 'suggesting' you return to safety. Despite being welcome in the palace, it felt more like a prison.

What you hadn't realised while you had been sat in the gardens, was that you hadn't entirely been alone. Zuko had walked past the entrance to the caught yard and you had caught his eye. At first he saw a glimmer of his mother sitting by the pond. She had always loved animals, especially feeding the turtle ducks. But then his vision cleared and he had seen you. It made his heart sink. He hadn't spoken to you in weeks. He didn't entirely know why…

Zuko watched you disappear out of the garden and down the corridor… Away from him.

He hated to admit it but being back in the Fire Nation wasn't bringing him the happiness he thought it would. His honour had technically been restored and yet he was feeling more ashamed than ever.

Part of him wanted to follow you; the other half knew he should visit Mai as he had promised earlier. The latter part of him won, but he couldn't help but look back in your direction. As soon as he reached Mai's room, he knocked softly.

"Hey, what took you so long?" Mai asked, dragging him into the room, "I thought you'd never show up."

"Ah," Zuko let out, "I didn’t- I just got caught up. That's all."

"Whatever," Mai smiled.

As much as Zuko wanted to enjoy his girlfriend's company, you were still nagging on his mind. Even when Mai was speaking, he was still thinking back to you. How sad you looked. How guilty he felt about ignoring you. Mai started noticing how distant Zuko was being.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Zuko said defensively.

"What's with you? You don’t have to snap at me. I was just asking a question," Mai replied, leaning away and folding her arms.

Zuko sighed.

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired," he said, "I need to go. We'll talk tomorrow."

Mai attempted to reply but Zuko was gone.

---

You'd been inside your head for the past hour. It was as if everything was slowly coming together. You knew what you had to do now. It wouldn’t be easy- but when was the right thing to do ever easy? Some part of you broke knowing you'd have to leave Zuko behind but in the end you couldn't let him control your destiny- not when he seemed to want no part in your future.

You began packing as quickly as you could. Throwing a few items of clothing into a bag as well as some medicine, basic hygiene products and a blanket. You didn't know where you were going but you knew you had to get out.

Just as you finished packing, you heard a knocking at the door.

"Hello?" you reply after a moment of hesitation.

Zuko hesitated.

"Who's there?" you replied, walking closer to the door.

With one hand you slowly began opening the door, with the other you had a small flame building. It never hurt to take a precaution when living in a place like the Fire Nation.

You fully opened the door and saw Zuko: you were stunned for a moment.

"Zuko?" you asked.

Gently, you let your hand drop, and the flame went out with it. You opened the door and walked back into your room, leaving it open to Zuko whether he was going to follow or not. He was surprised at your lack of response. He was expecting you to cry at him or yell at him, but there was nothing.

He followed you into your room and shut the door behind you.

"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" Zuko asks.

"I don't think it's going to matter much longer," you tell him, "I don't think anything you're about to say is going to matter much longer, Prince Zuko."

"Prince Zuko?" he repeated, "You've never called me that. Not even when we were kids."

"Yeah, well things have changed since then."

"For the better!" Zuko insisted, "You're telling me you preferred it when we were sailing in the frozen South Pole for weeks at a time than being a war hero in your own nation? You can't be serious?"

"Maybe I did."

"You can't be serious! I- We were miserable!"

"Maybe you were! I wasn't!" you yelled at him, walking closer to him, "I had my best friend! I don't even know who you are anymore! You haven't spoken to me in weeks!"

"Y/N, I-"

"-No! Don't Y/N me!" you snapped at him, pressing a finer to his chest, "I was there for you. I never stopped believing in you. I never left your side. But, the moment you get back here, the moment you have your precious honour back, you forget I even exist!"

Zuko was silent.

"And, the saddest part is that I waited for you," you murmured, all your anger gone, "I waited. I thought maybe you're just busy, off doing Prince stuff. But, then I saw you with Mai. Even Azula. And, I knew something had changed. I thought I was your friend; that we had a friendship that was unbreakable. But, now I see you were just using me as a replacement. As a place holder."

"No," Zuko cried out, "That's not true."

You turned away, trying not to let him see your tears building.

"Then tell me why I feel this way. A stranger in my own nation. A prisoner in my own nation."

"I'm sorry… I didn't think-"

"-No you didn't think."

Zuko tried to reach out towards you. And, then he noticed your bag on your bed. It was full and there was items strewn around your room. Something was going on.

"Y/N, what are you doing? What do you mean it's not going to matter anymore?"

"I'm leaving."

"You can't."

"I have to."

"You can't leave me here, please," Zuko pleaded.

"You'll be just fine," you sadly smiled, "You haven't needed me since you got back. I'm sure you won't even notice I'm gone."

"That's not true!" Zuko argued.

"Then what is the truth?"

"The reason… The reason I couldn’t talk to you… Is because every time I looked at you I was remined of that day in Ba Sing Sei," Zuko murmured, "I… I've realised I made the wrong decision that day. Looking at you just reminded me I didn't need to be in the Fire Nation to be home. I just needed you."

"Oh, Zuko."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I truly am. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything."

"Leave with me."

"I want to leave," Zuko promised, "But it needs to be the right time. The solstice."

"I'll wait," you agreed, "But promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me things will be different this time. I'm tired of fighting against the world's last hope. I'm tired of not doing the right thing."

"I know my destiny now. My uncle helped me see the light," Zuko said quietly, "I know what I must do now. I'm going to find the Avatar, and I'm going to help him defeat the Fire Lord."

"Not 'I'. We. I'm coming with you."

Zuko nodded at you. And, for the first time in what felt like forever he had hope.

#zuko #zuko x reader #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #avatar #Avatar The Last Airbender #Avatar the Last Air Bender #atla #zuko imagine #zuko imagines #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #alta imagine #one shot #reader inser #imagine #imagines

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jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

Teacher’s Pet

A/N: As requested, here is the first part of our professor!harry series. As usual, this we put our little twist on things and we hope that you enjoy! - n+d

send feedback and requests here

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: smut, mutual masturbation, use of sex toys

word count: 6.2k

While Harry tried not to show favoritism in his courses, it was hard not to be caring towards the students that showed effort but struggled. That was the case with little Y/N. She was young, pretty, had a bit of an edge to her. From what he had noticed she was kind and often let people borrow pens and once gave a diabetic classmate her muffin when she saw he was a bit pale and taking his blood sugar.

He wasn’t everyone’s favorite professor. He was a tough grader, had a bit of a resting ‘bitch’ face, and he wasn’t necessarily warm and fuzzy. It wasn’t what Harry wanted at all— but it had to be done so that the students wouldn’t just see him as a peer. He had learned that early in. He had to be strict and get respect or he would be stuck with slackers or people who thought he would ‘do them a solid’ as one student had tried to ask with a fist bump. But when it came to sweet students with dyed hair, a devastated little pout, and even watery eyes, he knew he would have to say something.

‘If you would like some help, please come to my office any time after 4. I would be happy to assist in figuring out the material.’

It was written next to a poor grade. He could tell that she had potential— she just wasn’t getting it. He also worried about her word usage. If what he thought of was correct, it would make sense why she was struggling.

School was never one of Y/N’s strong suits. From the beginning of her school career she struggled with getting the hang of concepts and her teachers grew a distaste for her because they thought she wasn’t trying. Y/N was a hard worker though, she did genuinely try, but her best was never enough. A few teachers pointed out that she might have a learning disability, but her parents denied that ever being a case. Her other siblings, both older and younger, were able to grasp concepts easily and were all incredible book smart in addition to being talented outside of school. It seemed that Y/N was just the bad apple of the bunch. Her parents would joke, but of course it hurt. She didn’t even want to go to college originally, but her parents forced her to at least try and get a degree so she wouldn’t be a low life. Y/N only agreed because they said they’d keep paying for her band. Of course, you can only really go to college if you pass though and Y/N wasn’t doing too well.

Professor Styles had always intimidated her, but he just took his job seriously. She could tell by the way he talked about everything that he was passionate about making sure people understood the deeper meaning behind these books and Y/N could appreciate that. It was just a shame that she struggled so much in his class. There were students that excelled in his classes and he was always giving them praise, little surprised smiles and nods, a small ‘good job’ or ‘correct, yes’ here and there. Y/N found herself wanting to try harder in his classes just to get a praise out of him, but she was too nervous to raise her hand even when she did know the answer. This was her third time getting a not so passing grade in this class and Y/N was growing more and more frustrated. She understood the material, or she felt like she did, but whenever it came to reading and remembering, she found herself getting stuck. Little frustrated tears formed in her eyes but she blinked them away, thinking she wasn’t going to muster up the courage to see him today.

But she did.

He had a soft spot for the students that he helped. It was human nature to care for those you spent time with. It wasn’t like how he thought about Y/N though. Okay— he knew it was bad. But he was intrigued by her. Why? He wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe her edgy look, maybe it was because she was seemingly submissive and every time he caught her eye she looked like a deer in headlights. She stares at him a lot, he could notice that. But he likes it. So he was pleasantly surprised when she came to his office, looking skittish but also curious. She needed help and he would offer it to her.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you.” Harry adjusted his glasses and sat up straighter, putting the final mark on a test before looking back up at her with a gentle smile. He had to approach with caution, she already looked like she was going to shit herself. “I’m glad you got my note and weren’t offended. But I was wondering if you’d like some help.” He didn’t say what because he wanted her to tell him what exactly she was struggling with.

Y/N was very nervous, mostly because she didn’t like asking for help from anyone. She didn’t like to seem unintelligent in front of men, especially when they were as attractive as Professor Styles. All the girls on campus talked about how hot he was, how his dominance was a turn on and how none of them were properly able to focus in class. At least they were getting passing grades.

“Hi, professor...” Y/N said softly and closed the door behind her before taking a seat. “I, um... I’m not really good with asking for help.” She explained, pushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear before fixing her septum piercing. Y/N was playing with the hem of her skirt, one of her fingers playing with the fishnet stockings she had on. “I feel like I understand when you’re explaining it and then I go and take the test and it’s like I can’t remember anything you said. But I’m not good at academics anyway so...” Y/N let out a sad chuckle. Her self confidence was pretty low in all aspects, it was a shame because she was a pretty girl. She didn’t seem to think so, hence why she dressed up. At least her clothes she could control.

“Now, don’t say that.” Harry tutted. “I’m sure that’s not true. I bet you just have a different way of learning. If you understand verbally, but freeze when it’s written, that may be the case.” He hummed, flipping through the last work she had handed in. “My question is... it isn’t meant to offend you at all. But do you find difficulty in reading itself?” He approached it gently. You’d be surprised how many adults realize later on in life that they have dyslexia. They were labeled as not the smartest but he was because it took so long for them to understand because the words and numbers get jumbled up. “I’m asking because I notice in your writings, you spell things in a unique way. Or it seems the letters are flipped. This isn’t to embarrass you so please don’t be upset— we just need to figure out why it is that you struggle with the tests.” He leaned forward on his desk, licking over his bottom lip. She was beautiful. In that way when women didn’t know they were beautiful. He wished he could see more of her body— fuck, not going there. Absolutely not. Even though technically it wasn’t like he would be fired, seeing as half the damn staff fucks students. It was always that forbidden element. Either way, he was far too much for this sweet thing to handle. “I would like to help you if you would let me do so.”

Y/N felt really anxious, bouncing her leg to try and keep her composure. She didn’t think she was smart. She wasn’t good at math, wasn’t good at science, she was decent at English but even that seemed to be difficult now that she was reading classics that were barely in modern English. She just decided that learning wasn’t for her.

“I’m not a reader, no.” She shook her head, Y/N found herself having trouble focusing for a long time and when it came to reading words get jumbled up and she struggled a lot. Especially when she started thinking about it too much. Of course Y/N was embarrassed even though he said he wasn’t trying to embarrass her. It was more just her feeling incompetent. She didn’t like making eye contact with him for too long because she felt like he was staring straight into her soul. She was a bit shy and timid when it came to new people. She appreciated that he wasn’t judging her though. “I don’t know what you could do to help, but if you’d like to try we can? I—I don’t want to waste your time.”

“There’s no wasting time if it helps improve your learning, yeah? Please don’t think of yourself like that. You are an important person, just as important as my other students. I want you to succeed.” Harry promised. It kind of broke his heart that she was so sure that her time with him would be wasted. It made him sad that she felt that way. Why? “How about we set up a time... let’s say two days a week? I have time around now, so 4:15 to 5 where I can help you.” He normally wouldn’t do it for most but he wasn’t going to let her suffer. A passion project, so to speak. “I don’t know your schedule but I would be here during that time normally. I basically live in this office anyways.” He smiled in a joking way. “We can work on understanding first what was wrong and then we can have time to work on the new material.”

Y/N nodded her head in agreement, but it did make her worry. Of course she could only try her best but she was so used to failing that she wasn’t sure how much harder she could try. She was barely passing her other classes and frankly she was thinking about dropping out all together. Maybe she was the lowlife her parents made her out to be?

“Can do... Monday’s and Thursday’s..” Y/N told him, “if that’s okay, I have band practice on Wednesday’s.” She wasn’t sure why’s she told him but part of it was to show that she wasn’t just a stupid girl that she did have some talent or at least she thought she did. “It’s um... it’s really nice of you to do this, thank you.” She told him genuinely, though she was terrified of letting him down. He seemed so cool. He wasn’t like this in his classes, he seemed much more approachable this way. Maybe in another life they could have been friends or more than that... no, he probably wasn’t into girls like her. She needed a cigarette.

“Of course. You have my email if you need to reschedule.” But he could see right through her. Of course he could. “But... if you’re nervous, tell me. I can soothe the worries. I’ll be awfully disappointed if you don’t show up and don’t let me know.” He knew she was skittish. He didn’t want her to back out and not take the time to try at the very least. “Let’s just work on it a day at a time. I hope to see you soon.”

When she walked out, he was ashamed to say he was entranced by her ass. He was such a bastard for thinking about a student like that. So bad. But it didn’t stop him from seeing her eyes when he fucked his fist later that night.

----

The next couple of days left Y/N worried. Coming out of professor Styles’ office had left her feeling on edge, wondering if it was even worth trying. She felt like nothing would save her at this point but this was going to be her last attempt. If it didn’t work out she’d just drop out and couch surf. But she didn’t want to have to do that, her kitty Jinx would have to find a new home and that was something she certainly didn’t want. It was Monday and Y/N didn’t go to her classes today, feeling like it was justified because she was meeting with Professor Styles today.

If she was going to work on herself she wanted to be in the best shape possible, so she smoked some weed in the morning to get her day off right and got her things together before getting her skateboard and making her way to his office.

Harry was pleased when she actually showed up at his office. He was half expecting her to drop his class with how terrified she had seemed the past time, and he was curious to see how she had thought about what her grades and his revisions on her test. He had worn a dark red button up today with suspenders, his blazer off and hair a tiny bit messy. His glasses hung off the end of his nose while he looked up at her with surprise, before a smile came on his face.

“Y/N! I’m very glad to see you’ve come.” He hummed, sitting up and leaning back in his chair. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Would you like a water?” He had a mini fridge in his office. Without listening to an answer, he pulled one out anyways and handed it to her, rounding the desk so he seemed less scary. The desk was a position of power. One he loved, but also didn’t want to take advantage of when Y/N obviously was terrified of it. “Alright. So... you’ve seen my revisions?” He sat on the other arm chair across from the couch, glasses pushed up now with his copy of her paper. “Good. What do you think about your mistakes? Were they because you didn’t understand the material, or didn’t know what to say in paper?”

Y/N gave him a small smile, setting her skate board up against the side wall before taking a seat on the couch. No amount of weed could have calmed her down, she wasn’t even that high anymore it was just the residual feeling. Right now, she was more concerned about having to tell him what was going on inside her mind when she was working on assignments.

“I—I um... both?” She felt a blush creeping in on her cheeks. “I tried to like... watch videos about it, cause whenever I try to read I just get frustrated.” Y/N explained fiddling with the paper. She didn’t like this feeling, it was obvious that it was something that made her emotional which was why she didn’t really talk about it. She let out a breath, looking over what she wrote and seeing all the red pen. It made her want to crawl up into a ball despite how nice he was being. He was trying and so she would also try her best to keep it together. “I find it really hard to focus..”

“I don’t doubt that you do, Y/N. I’m thinking that maybe this isn’t something to do with your focus, but maybe it’s with your reading? You could learn differently than other people and that's absolutely alright.” Harry felt poorly that she was so sad and embarrassed about it. “Look at me.” When she didn’t respond he was trying a different tactic. Soft but very obviously meaning business. “There we are. Now, this doesn’t mean you’re stupid or unable to learn or do well in my class. You just may need to learn differently.” He stood up and grabbed a book from his shelf. “So this book— I got it online. It has some illustrations in it, and I find they’re pretty self explanatory. Maybe this will help you understand it better. Having an image opposed to words in your mind.” He handed it to her. She didn’t need to know he had bought it himself.

Y/N glanced up at him as he told her to look at him, seeing his face go much softer but his eyes still held that same intensity. She followed his with her eyes as he went to get the book. It was much thicker than the others due to all the illustrations but of course it made her feel like a little kid again. She just wished she could be normal.

“Okay...” She said softly, willing to try anything at this point. Of course she was nervous about going forward with his class seeing as she knew things would only get more difficult. Y/N gave him a small thank you as she looked through the book but part of her felt like it wasn’t going to work. No one was determined in helping her learn, they never have been. She’d always gotten very poor, passing grades because she assumed teachers felt bad for her or knew her siblings and assumed maybe she was just the rebellious one. “Sometimes I feel like I do better on the essays, cause I feel like I get it... but I end up getting better grades on the tests than the essays and it’s... disheartening.” She explained with a small frown, “cause I guess on the tests a lot of the time.”

He furrowed his brows, listening to what Y/N had to say. It made sense if she had dyslexia that she would be frustrated and upset with learning altogether but it was important to her and him as well, that she was able to do what she was meant to do. Whatever it was she had wanted.

“I think you should outline your essays more. Each body paragraph, with reasoning and thought. Come up with 4 to 6 reasons for each, word them how it makes sense to you, and write it that way. The structure taught isn’t the only way to do it.” He explained. Writing down on a piece of notebook paper an example of how she could do it. “I know it must be very frustrating— especially if it’s been years that you’ve had to deal with this. I understand. But I do have faith that you’re able to do this. You are intelligent, Y/N. You just have to figure out the right way to show it.”

Y/N let out a sigh, swallowing thickly as he gave her some advice on how to structure her essays in a way that would make more sense. She would try her best, especially with knowing that he was going to be grading things knowing what her situation was. Y/N was going to try her best to sound smart or collected, but she will admit she hadn’t been paying attention for years.

She pulled out a folder of her English work, pulled out the notes she had taken and the lay out for her essays and bit the inside of her lip. Y/N handed it to him and immediately went to pay with her own fingers. Observing him as he looked through what she had done previously.

“I—I try my best, I really do.. but anytime I get the courage to try it just gets worse and I go back to not trying at all because at least then I know I’m failing cause I’m doing it on purpose and not cause I’m stupid.” Y/N was trying to share her feelings to try and make him understand. “‘s really intimidating being in class with people who pick up information easily and I end up just tuning out cause it’s too fast for me to follow... and I don’t want to be that one girl that holds up the whole class with a stupid question.”

“You aren’t. If you have a question that you aren’t comfortable asking in front of everyone, you are always welcome to email me or come to my office at any time I’m here.” Harry promised. Poor girl. Jesus, what happened to her to make her self esteem like this? “You are very capable. Very much a smart girl. You need to tap into different areas of your brain. I promise, we can get your grade up together, alright?” He felt softness and fondness because he knew that sometimes professors weren’t the most understanding. Granted, he was only like this towards students that came for help— and oddly, even more so towards her, but still. “You don’t have to stop trying. You just need a different approach and we can help you find the right one. Do you like movies?” He suddenly remembered that. At her confused look, he continued. “Movies are scripts. Books. Visual. Do you find it easy to follow along with movies?”

She found it hard to believe him because no one really called her smart, ever. Y/N gave him a small smile and nodded her head, pushing pieces of hair away from her face before nodding and realizing she reversed the work she’d just done. He was a very nice man, it was clear that he was committed to helping her and it was definitely appreciated. She just didn’t know why he believed in her so much when no one else did?

“Well yeah... I can follow conversation and stuff.” Y/N let out a small chuckle, sniffling a bit before she continued. “I think another problem is I get too confused about things like.. the deeper meaning stuff in books. Like the themes and whatever you call it. Cause in my head I know what I think it means but then it’s meant to mean something else and then I think I just didn’t understand correctly.” Y/N was definitely more of a creative. She didn’t like following set rules, she liked going with the flow and following her own thing. It worked when it came to her music, she was able to focus then. But she taught herself guitar.

“I think that you need to first take the book at face value. Don’t look for the hidden meanings the first time you read because it will confuse you more.” Harry cleared his throat. She smelled really good. Like peaches and citrus. He wondered if her bed smelled like that, but stronger.

“Tell me some things you like.” He leaned back into the seat. “Things you think we can connect to projects. You said you’re in a band? Have a band?” He remembered that from last time. At her nod he continued. “You can find a song or make a playlist of songs that connect your head to the book. Say... Romeo and Juliet. Hmm.. check yes Juliet, We The Kings. If you’ve heard of that. You can find songs that help you remember.”

“Yeah, I’m in a band.” Y/N nodded her head a bit at him, “it’s like a indie punk thing...” She wasn’t sure what kind of music he listened to but he seemed young enough to think that indie music was good. Who knows, maybe he was one of those jazz guys with all the sweaters he wears. Y/N wasn’t one to judge though. The check yes Juliet reference made her chuckle, remembering middle school and highschool momentarily. He couldn’t be that much older then. “Yeah, I know that song.” She giggled and shook her head, “but yeah, I understand.” She spoke and took note of that in her mind. Y/N didn’t know how she was meant to explain to him that she spent the rest of her free time doing drugs. Tripping and writing music, hanging out with her kitty. That’s about it. Skating, going out in nature. Fucking. She definitely was a bit of a nympho. She assumed it was because of her need for attention.

“Okay. That’s good then. Use that to try and correlate.” He had felt weird watching her leave the room, seemingly in a better mood than she had been before but still nervous. It didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten laid and didn’t really want to have sex with someone else right now. God, if only he could spread her open and dip his cock into her soft cunt. That’s something he was dreaming of.

He thought about it the next night too. So, with his bored and needy thoughts, he went home and did his chores he needed to do, before he went to lay in his bed with his laptop. To be honest. Most porn didn’t do it for him. He much preferred erotic writing or even more so, cam girls. Sex workers deserved support and he always tipped well, though rarely talking in any of them. He was scrolling down the alternative tab when he found what he was looking for. Tattoos and plump lips, tits for a profile photo and a tongue sticking out. Interesting— and she was live.

He just never expected the exact woman in his head to be placed on the screen, smoke coming from her mouth.

Fuck.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how she thought about starting camming but it all sort of just fell into place. She started off just selling her nudes and videos for attention and money but then she realized that people would pay really good money to watch live stuff. It’s a good thing too because Y/N loved being watched. Her cams were usually regularly scheduled, but other times they were spontaneous because she was really horny. bbybunnie was her username, most people just called her pet names though, never by her actual name for obvious security reasons. She had quite the following too. People seemed to love her content. She was fun and bubbly and she felt like she put in a great show both literally and physically. Y/N had just done a bong rip, having her windows open to let the smoke out. She didn’t like smoking around Jinx so she’d let her in once she was properly stoned. She was dressed in a black crop top that said princess on it in gothic font, fishnets, and little black panties.

“Been really stressed lately with college and stuff...” Y/N answered a previous question as to what she’d been up to. “Working on assignments in stuff but it gets hard.” She pouted, turning her head when she heard Jinx scratching at the door. “One second.” She giggled and went to grab Jinx, leaving the door open so she could roam. “Here she is, say hi to everyone.” Y/N cooed in a baby voice. It was quite the sight. An alternative girl all soft with her cat, just starting the broadcast. Her vibrator was clearly in frame, already plugged in. A subscriber bought a heavy duty one for her.

And Harry should have clicked off. Right away, he should have exited the screen and said ‘gotta go’ because this was his student. His student he tutored and had fucking come on here to jerk off to a look alike. But he couldn’t. Not finally getting a look at her body. Soft and curved and delicious. Her tits strained the tank top and little tiny panties, some fishnets. Jesus fucking Christ. He let out an audible moan as he watched her sit back on the bed, talking back and forth with some of the comments.

He wasn’t sure what made him comment.

DaddyH: you look beautiful. I love the fishnets.

She did. And he loved them. A lot of the comments were dirtier but not to the point he could see it turning a woman on. He didn’t get an associates in sexology for nothing.

Y/N was pretty good with responding to comments, they were paying after all, but a lot of them were much nicer than most would think. Her community was used to her streams taking a bit to get going because she liked to get super horny, so once she was properly high she usually talked with her comments about things she’s been fantasizing about and what they’d like to see her do.

DaddyH. He was new.

“Hi daddyh, thank you! You’re new aren’t you?” Y/N said with an excited smile, she liked newcomers. It meant someone was interested in her. “Well we’ve got a special show on our hands then.” Her viewers loved when new people came because the shows were always better. She was visibly hornier. She shifted a little bit so she was leaning farther back on her pillows, bringing her legs up and out so she was spreading like a little butterfly. Of course the panties kept things covered but not much. Y/N pulled them up so they were tight on her, “Gotta get me real wet first, yeah?” She hummed, “love knowing you’re watching me... love when you tell me what you like...” It was strategic to talk dirty as if she was talking to one specific person.

Fuck shit motherfucker. Fuck.

Harry didn’t even see her pussy fully yet and he was nearly drooling. What the fuck had he done in what past life to get this type of luck? He wasn’t sure but he did know that whatever he did, he was thankful. He got a good look at her, her lusty eyes. He was a dirty talker. He loved to sex— fuck the English teacher in him. He loved making women a mess of whines and slick and speaking their darkest fantasies into their ears as the writhe underneath him. Y/N would be a fun one to play with. For sure.

DaddyH: you could play over the panties. They’re cute.

He had a thing for panties and fishnets, and she was going right to his kinks.

“But that’s no fun.” Y/N pouted at the comment, wiggling her panties a little bit so she could rub against her clit some. She let out a tiny moan and hummed, letting her hands move up her body to squeeze her tits through her shirt. She was properly eye fucking the camera too, teasing as she started to pull up her shirt. “I’m frustrated, daddy...” Usually she waited till she got a certain number of tips before she took her clothes off, but she was only a few dollars away so she pulled off her shirt revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The tightness of the tank top kept them up, but these men seemed to love natural tits. Her hand slipped down to start rubbing over her clit over top her panties, letting out little breathy moans of pleasure. “Really want to be fucked...” She explained, “Wanna be full...” Y/N pouted and quickened her pace.

“Bent over a desk.”

Harry had a big oak desk he could bend her over and absolutely destroy her. If that’s something she would want. Harry would wreck her. His hand palmed Over his cock as he took her in and looked at her tits. He was an everything man but tits? He could happily suck on hers for an hour and make marks all over, just to listen to her mewl and feel her on his tongue. He squeezed over his sweatpants, feeling himself heat up as he watched her. She was topless, his student. His student was topless and rubbing her clit over tiny little panties, giving a pout and looking at the camera too fucking similar to the way she looked at him in his office today. And while his rational mind knew he wouldn’t be able to look at her the same— he would want to fuck her even more than he had— he couldn’t stop watching.

It was clear that Y/N’s interactions with Harry had spilt over into her mind while she was getting into it. It was that intense stare that he had, his ringed hands, of course there was also the tone of his voice. How he asked her to look at him that one time. She could only imagine him asking her much rougher and in a deeper voice.

“Daddy...” She whimpered out, teasing her own self over her panties as she read over the comments. Y/N giggled are some, loving he praise if men calling her cute and telling her she was pretty and her moans were turning them on. She went and took off her panties cause she really couldn’t take it anymore, revealing her fishnet covered cunt. “Want a better view, hmm?” Y/N smirked, moving to rip them right over the crotch so everyone could see. “I’m so fuck wet for you... look..” She said all excited, pulling her fingers back to show the strings of wetness on her fingers.

Harry was in heaven. Truly. Or hell, because he wasn’t able to be the one ripping the fishnets up and fucking her in them. Her thighs looked soft and delicate and probably so easily bruised. He could do some incredible work down there.

DaddyH: Lick it clean, sweetheart. I know it’s sweet.

There was no way she wasn’t so sweet that his teeth would fill with cavities. No way. He wanted her taste all over his tongue. He was a very giving dom, very much eager to make his lovers cum again and again and again so long as they complied with his soft rules. It wasn’t difficult.

Y/N’s stomach filled with warmth as she read over the comment, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking on them properly as if they were a cock. She was starting to like the Daddyh character. He was so sweet and polite in his choice of words, paid well. What was there not to like? She removed her fingers from her mouth giggling a little bit as she decided to show off some more. Y/N pushed the laptop back a bit, turning so they could see her ass and how she arched her back for them relieving that she’d had a butt plug in the whole time. Sleek and black with a little gem at the end. A lot of the things she had were gifts from subscribers. She had an Amazon wishlist specifically set up for them as well as a regular P.O. Box that then routed to her home. She had tons of back up fishnets, some used ones she sold online as well. Lots of other things. She quite enjoyed it.

When did she put that in? Harry needed to know. Was she wearing that when she was sat on his fucking couch? He would surely lose his goddamn mind if that was the case.

He tipped her $50, asking the question he needed the answer to.

DaddyH: Have you been wearing that all day, pretty girl?

The idea of her squirming in class occurred to him. And then the idea of a little vibrator inside of her that he had the remote to, pressing it on to see her reactions. He would buy her one, fuck. He would buy this girl anything if it meant getting to see her squirm and hear her beg him to let her cum.

Y/N wiggled her bum a bit, turning on her back again with a hum. “I’ve been wearing it all day...” She nodded, reaching over for her vibrator because she really couldn’t wait anymore. Everyone who streamed her knew she was impatient, sometimes if they paid a good amount she’d wait and tease herself first but she was needy today. She just kept thinking about professor Styles. “‘m so needy... been so horny lately, might be on for a while.” Y/N blushed, “or I’ll film some special requests on my onlyfans...” She smirked because she knew she would get lots of money for men begging her to stay but loads for custom content too. Y/N turned the vibrator on it’s lowest setting, starting to move it down on to her cunt where she let out a pleaser sigh. “I wanna cum so bad... just wanna cum.” She pleaded, reading to see what everyone was saying. Y/N turned it up a few notches, letting out a content sigh as she moved it over a specific spot. The feeling was indescribable and the noises that left her just showed how relieved she was.

Harry nearly fell over. Her ass was stuffed when she sat on his couch— and it wasn’t from his cock. Harry particularly loved anal, it was a very hot thing to him and the fact she hadn’t been warming his cock like that was near criminal. Truly.

“Sweet Jesus.” He breathed, finally taking himself out of his pants. Spitting thick on to the head, he spread it over his cock and waited for her to continue. She had an onlyfans? He would be subscribing and buying content. He didn’t give a fuck. He wanted it and it would be the best way to keep her close but far. He was watching how her legs trembled and her mouth fell open at the feeling, her body arching into the buzzing of the vibrator. Oh, how he would hold it against her and finger her until she squirted all over the bed and make her clean it up with her tongue. He was a sexual man but kinky more than anything. The idea of it all... it was so hot and wrong and taboo and it was even better in his cock’s mind that she was a no go zone. Made it hotter.

DaddyH: you’ve got such a pretty pussy. How many times can you cum?

Y/N read his comment and let out a whine, turning up the vibrator a few settings higher once again so she could get even closer to her brink of orgasm. “Let’s find out.” She breathed out and continued to crank up the settings. The closer she got the more she thrashed and bucked her hips both up and away from the vibrator. She was very enjoyable to watch she’s been told, specifically because she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and that she was willing to take a lot. Y/N must have sat there for a few hours just making herself cum over and over again, both with the vibrator and the dildo she had. Once she was all fucked out, 5 orgasms deep, she just laid there and watched the comments roll in. She giggled at a few, breathing heavily as she slowly walked herself down from the blissful headspace she was in. “Thank you, I’m feeling so much better...” Y/N cooed, giving them a smile. “Have a good day or night!” And with that she’d logged off, happy that she had made a new regular.

-------------------------------------------

[part 2]

A/N: bet you weren’t expecting that huh? 😈 and yes!! punk!y/n - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #professor!harry #professor!h #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

The aftermath of Merlin snapping, and yelling at Arthur in the middle of the forest;

Arthur pushes for change, the gang takes bets on when Merthur will happen, and someone, somewhere, is grumpy.

Part 2 of Merlin’s Angry Outburst.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Once Arthur has a first draft of the repeal, the first people he brings in on it (with Merlin’s approval, of course) are the 5 knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana.

(Morgana, who later that evening comes back to Arthur's chamber in tears (Merlin is also there) to reveal her magic, and thank him for not being Uther.)

All of them enthusiastically agree, after only a little conversation.

Elyan and Leon are the most... dubious, but only because of the practical factor, they don't disagree with the actual repeal.

After months of the gang working in secret, they reveal their best draft to the council. At least half the council are new members that Arthur appointed, the rest are left over from Uther’s time.

They argue back and forth for a while, half vs half. A few of the older members, who were around before the purge, slowly start changing their minds.

In the end, it takes them maybe a month to get a majority, and Arthur overrules the remaining opposition. He is King after all, technically, he doesn’t even have to have a council.

Days after the agreement is reached, Arthur goes out personally to collect a few specific Druids, who had been waiting just outside the border for the go ahead.

It takes maybe another month to go through all the laws thoroughly, changing and editing and altering what needs to be altered. With the help of Arthur's close advisors on the political aspects, and the help of the Druids, Merlin, and Gaius, on the magical aspects (what should be allowed freely, what should be monitored, and what should remain fully banned).

The city celebrates when the announcement is made, they all loved the new King anyway, and had been overjoyed with the drop in executions, and deliberate ignoring of small instances of magic.

After a feast to celebrate the new found freedom among the people, the gang gathers once more, in private, and Merlin tells a shortened version of the story he'd told Arthur all those months ago.

None of them are that surprised (Gaius, Morgana, and Lancelot already knew, of course).

If they hadn't suspected Merlin of being a sorcerer before this whole thing started (Leon, Gwaine, and Gwen definitely suspected) , then they had certainly begun to in the last few months. They cheer when Merlin finishes telling them "just how often I've saved your oblivious arses" .

They cheer even louder when Arthur announces that he would be made court sorcerer, and it would be made official in a ceremony before the week ended.

There are no cheers when Morgana stands.

Curious eyes land on her, probably due to how terrified she looks, but the small encouraging nods and little smiles she gets from her brother (her Brother), Merlin, and Gwen, give her the strength she needs to tell everyone of her magic as well.

They see she is frightened, they imagine how difficult it must have been, being at first Uther’s ward, and then his daughter. They smile gently, and she receives hugs a plenty. Once all the congratulations are out of the way, she sits back down next to Gwen, still shaky and full of adrenaline, but happy.

She spends the remainder of the group’s quiet celebrations with her hand gripped in Gwen's under the table.

(Read this how you want, I personally envision it as the start of something)

So the days draw on, Merlin is announced Court Sorcerer, Arthur hires another manservant and gives Merlin a large set of chambers in the same hallways as Arthur's, complete with all the books on magic Arthur can find, and several of the magical artefacts that had previously been kept locked away (Merlin and Arthur are the only ones who are able to gain access to the room, something magicky I guess).

(No one mentions that that corridor is supposed to be for royalty only. Leon figures they're bound to realise that they're in love with each other any day now, and then Merlin will practically be royalty anyway so... might as well cut out the middle bit of having to shuffle chambers again later on).

The kingdom is prospering, and for months after the initial announcement, and implementations of the new laws, sorcerers and nobles from all over Albion, visit Camelot, to give congratulations to the King.

They give gifts and provide knowledge.

The Druids, however, are a slightly different story.

The ones who had been helping with the paperwork, had been... odd(?) around Merlin. But they respected his wish to keep all of that under wraps, or at least until it was announced publicly.

Arthur and Gaius know the whole Emrys story. Lancelot and Morgana know bits of it... but other than that... as far as anyone is concerned, the newly promoted Court Sorcerer is just another wizard.

The new Druids entering the kingdom are paying brief respects to the Forever King (I mean... at this point, he's still only King of Camelot... which is what he was before the magic ban repeal), before staring in reverence at the Court Sorcerer stood by his side.

They respect his wishes to keep the worshipping and gift giving to a minimum, though they still come to him for requests of miracles and ask him to perform druid ceremonies (blessings and name-givings and weddings and funerals (though they prefer to call them celebrations of life, rather than commiserations of death) and such).

Merlin can only brush off so many displays of such awe before the rest of The Gang demands to know what’s up, at which point he has to come clean about the whole... “Most Powerful Warlock To Ever Walk The Earth” thing.

Much to Merlin’s chagrin (and everyone else's amusement) the Druids still insist on calling him Emrys. The stubborn ones sometimes even go for "My Lord Emrys", which gets them a scowl from Merlin (and barely concealed laughter from everyone else).

Maybe... later on... when Morgana is more comfortable with her magic, after a few months practicing with Merlin (with a supportive Gwen Always at her side) , she is announced as the Court Seer.

Merlin had never had much luck with prophetic visions, but once Morgana’s fear died down, once she learned to let it flow, and breathe through it, the visions come easier, and kinder.

She stops seeing only visions of doom, and worst case scenarios, instead she has dreams of the many paths the future may take.

She does not panic when a path seems grim and dark, for she has a King and a Warlock and Gwen, by her side. Always. And they work through the future together.

So the ban has been repealed officially for around 6 months.

Arthur is a couple months away from completing his second year as King. And he and Merlin are still beating around the bush.

The betting pool for when they’ll finally get together has been growing bigger and bigger. Practically the whole castle is in on it now, with Gwen and Morgana as the ring leaders. Whoever wins... will be very lucky.

(It's Leon in the end, he pays attention, and he know what his boys are like. But he's a noble and has no need for the money, he pays for a few rounds of drinks and donates the rest to one of children's homes in the lower town).

But the war comes first.

Camelot has been prospering, and has many supporters throughout Albion, but one of the kingdoms, it doesn't matter which, you decide, does NOT like this.

Scouts and small patrols have been needling Camelot’s borders for months now, and Arthur and his Council (and Inner Council) have been making quiet preparations. They know that some sort of... something, is coming soon.

Especially when Morgana begins to dream of battles and blood and lightening.

They prepare for, and expect, a full scale war, but they hope for some negotiations and a peace treaty with the opposition.

Their hopes are dashed, when a messenger is escorted into the throne room, wearing The Opposition’s colours, with a letter.

Said letter is an angry rebuttal of everything Camelot stands for, full of accusations of abandoning tradition, and spitting in the face of great leaders, of which this soft boy-king should NOT be counted as.

At the end, there was an official declaration of war.

The messenger boy was obviously scared to death, and once Arthur read the P.S, which invited Arthur to torture and/or execute him to the whatever extent he wants, he understood why. Without any hesitation, he offers the boy a job in the stables, a new wardrobe of clothes, and a servant’s bed in the castle.

After the official council meeting on the matter, setting up war committees, laying out contingency plans, organising the distribution of emergency evacuation plans, and discussing potential aid that could be requested from allies, Arthur pulls the gang together, for their own meeting.

“We knew this was coming, and there is no need to panic yet. Our outer borders are well patrolled, and we’re still getting up to date reports. The city walls hold strong, but I want to send out patrols to warn the villages of what’s coming. Start closer to the border, and work our way in. Leon?”

“My Lord, I have teams prepared for exactly that already, I just need to give the word and they’ll go.”

“Good. Morgana, I need you to try and keep focusing your visions, if we have even a small idea of how they might try to initiate the first battle, it’ll be a huge advantage.”

“Me and Merlin have been practising some new techniques to control where and when I can see, we’ll write everything down, and ask the Druids if they’ve seen anything as well.”

Arthur holds in a smile at the confidence in her voice. He is unendingly proud of how far his sister had come, and made a mental note to tell her that when all this was over.

“Brilliant, keep me in the loop. Gwen, when we’re done here, go and let the forgery know, the Royal Household will pay them extra to push out as much long range ammunition as they can. Arrows and crossbow bolts, we need as many as they can produce.” Gwen nods, and Arthur finally looks towards Merlin:

“And Merlin, I need you to be ready. Don’t wear yourself out too much in the next few weeks, I need you in good condition, if we’re to win this with minimal casualties-”

He glances over at Morgana before he continues:

“If the two of you could also ask the Druids if they have any volunteer healers. Make sure they know they aren’t obligated to come, but any help in the infirmaries would be greatly appreciated.” Morgana nods once more, as does Merlin, before he speaks:

“There’s a camp a couple hours ride outside the city at the moment, we’ll head out at first light-” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head, before looking to Morgana:

“They’re expecting us.”

Arthur addresses the room again:

“Right. I think that’s all for now, anyone have anything to add?”

Gaius responds after a moment:

“My Lord, if I could make a request for a few servants to help me set up supplies for the infirmary? Extensive preparations will need to be made to ensure that I have all I’ll need. Preferably people with rough herbal knowledge, if at all possible.”

Arthur nods straight away, responding:

“Yes, of course, I’ll ask the Housekeeper and the Steward who they can spare this evening, and they’ll be ready for you in the morning. Anything else?” At the silence in the room, Arthur tells everyone to get to work.

Leon marches straight down to the training grounds (Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan following him) to ring the summoning bell and inform the knights of the developments, and their tasks.

Gwen heads straight to the forgery (her and Elyan still oversee work there, but they have employees (and a few trainees) to run it) to give the Kings order.

Gaius shuffles out, and makes his way back to his quarters, already making mental lists of ingredients needed, and work to be done.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin are left, the royal siblings thinking to themselves, and Merlin thinking to someone else. Arthur contemplates that the whole mental link thing he had going on with the Druids was extremely useful.

Both his and Morgana’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin huffing, and clenching his fists as he opens his eyes, obviously unhappy with whatever was said:

“Merlin?” From Morgana has the Court Sorcerer looking up from scowling at the table. He replies after wiping the frown off his face:

“Oh, it’s fine. They just made a... stupid suggestion is all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Stupid? Doesn’t sound like the Druids. What was it?”

Merlin looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and replies slowly:

“It... doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you another time. It’s late, you should practice some meditation and head to sleep, no potions tonight. And remember to keep some parchment and a quill by your bed, so you can scribble down anything you see-”

Merlin stands abruptly and heads towards the door:

“-I’m going to check the wards on the outer wall, and push a little more energy into the wells. I’ll see you both bright an early.” With that, Merlin heads out the room swiftly.

Arthur looks to his sister questioningly, but she shrugs as she responds:

“Who knows. “I’ll tell you later” means he doesn’t want you to know, OR he’s hoping I’ll forget because he doesn’t want either of us to know. He’s right though, I should meditate for a while-”

Morgana stands at this:

“- hopefully I’ll see you before we head off, if not, I suppose it’ll be dinner in the evening. Good night, brother.” Morgana leaves the room gracefully, heading in the direction of her chambers.

Arthur thinks for only a moment, before rushing off, catching up with Merlin as he readied his horse, preparing for the journey to the outer walls:

“I’ll come with you. I find I quite enjoy watching you do magic, and to be perfectly honest, I could do with some fresh air to help me think.”

Arthur pretends to ignore the slight blush that dusts Merlin’s cheeks, and readies his own horse. The two of them ride out of the stables and make the journey down the cobbled roads in comfortable silence, side by side.

They take their time on the journey, and the 15 minutes of companionable silence is finally broken by Arthur, who looks at Merlin curiously, as he says:

“So what did they suggest?”

Merlin looks up sharply at that, broken from his deep train of thought as he dumbly replies “What?”

“The Druids. What was the stupid suggestion?” Merlin’s eyes widen at that, and he blushes once more as he looks determinedly forward:

“Oh. That. I told you, it doesn’t-”

“Merlin...”

“Oh fine! They suggested that I... that I forge a mental link with you. Like the one I have with them.” The sorcerer purses his lips at that, and continues to avoid Arthur’s gaze:

“You can do that? Well... would it be such a bad idea? I mean we aren’t going to be able to meet and discuss things as often as I’d like through this whole ordeal. AND you’re basically the Kingdom’s powerhouse, I’m sort of relying on your magical know-how here. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing? For us to be able to converse across the battle fields?”

Arthur, in an effort to not be hurt, reminds himself that he doesn’t know all that much about magic, and it very well could be a stupid suggestion, instead of one that Merlin is just personally opposed to.

Merlin, in response, looks to Arthur in great shock, before sighing and looking down to his horses mane:

“It.... is possible. And fairly easy, technically. But it would be painful, AND permanent. I wouldn’t be able to undo it after we won. And a temporary connection takes far too much energy to maintain, even for a short time. I just figured you wouldn’t want me in your head for the rest of our lives.” He tries to inject a little humour into his words, but it falls flat, and he just seems sad.

Arthur pretends he doesn’t notice however, and responds quickly:

“How painful are we talking? I mean I’ve been hurt pretty badly before. And... how exactly does it work? Would we be able to read each other’s mind constantly, without the other knowing? Or what?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows in shock at that, and his answer comes out slowly as he looks at Arthur:

“Like... a really bad headache? Imagine the hardest you’ve ever been hit, without passing out. It would last for a few minutes after the connection is initially forged, but would fade slowly over the next day or so. And no. Once the connection is established we wouldn’t be in each other’s head all the time, we would just be able to sort of... project our voices to one another. Other thoughts would be safe, even if you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t hear it unless you were thinking to me... if that makes sense.”

By the end of his explanation, he’s looking nervously at the King, who is deep in thought:

“Hmm. Ok. I... only if you agree but... it might not be a bad idea. Even after the war is over. There have definitely been times where I’ve needed your opinion on something but you’ve been elsewhere, or we’ve been in the presence of someone else. Of course we’ve been fine so far, if you don’t want to, but-”

Merlin interrupts him, speaking quickly:

“I’m fine with it. I agree, it would be useful. So... I can bring what we need back from the camp tomorrow?”

Arthur nods firmly:

“Yes. The sooner the better, we can do it tomorrow evening, if that’s enough time for you?” Merlin once again looks shocked at this, as Arthur stares at him:

“Oh! Yeah, Yes. That’s fine. Like I said, it’s not particularly difficult, and I can ask Gaius to prepare us something for the pain during the day. Are you... are you sure? It is Permanent.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and huffs:

“Yes, you said that already Merlin. Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded his head decidedly, and spoke confidently:

“Yes. You’re right, it’s not a bad idea. Come on, if we hurry, we’ll make it to the walls, and then to the main well, and then back to the castle, before dark.”

The pair of them hurry their horses, and after another 10 minutes of comfortable silence, they finally reach the City Gates.

The guards give a quick bow, and The King and The Court Sorcerer jump off their horses before handing the reigns to one of the Gate stablehands.

Arthur (and the guards) watch in barely concealed wonder as Merlin presses his hands against the rock of the wall, and closes his eyes.

The golden glow can still be seen from below his eyelids, and he hums slightly as he frowns in concentration, seeming to push into the wall.

Arthur sees a short of... sheen, ripple across the rock, and extend into the sky. Merlin steps back and nods, admiring his handy work:

“They’re holding strong, I’ve extended the height as well. Kilgharrah and Aithusa should be the only ones able to get over it without alerting me now, from the air at least-”

Merlin heads to retake his horse, Arthur following him, before he continues:

“Though I still want to check the tunnels again at some point in the next few days.”

“Of course. Relax Merlin, it’s barely begun, and the borders still hold strong. We’ve plenty of time before things kick off in any way.” He makes sure to speak quietly. A public announcement hasn’t been made yet, and it would be bad if rumours started spreading before The King had time to put together a proper disclosure.

Merlin nods distractedly, and urges his horse to go faster as he heads towards the main well, in the town square. It’s late, not long until sunset, so there shouldn’t be many, if any, people there. Arthur speaks again:

“Why are we visiting the well? I wasn’t aware of any problems?”

“There aren’t any, but once the announcement is made, and once the outer villages are told what’s happening, we’ll have hundreds, probably thousands, of people flock to the city for safety. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for such an influx, and boost our water levels a little.”

Arthur nods at his response, but doesn’t say anything. He chooses instead to admire the man Merlin had become. He held himself differently, more strong, confident in who he was. Just like he had back when he was still a manservant, he served Arthur, and his people, above and beyond his job description. Merlin took upon himself, not only the politics he was supposed to oversee, but the personal safety of both the King, and every Camelot citizen, and he did it all with an alarming amount of grace.

Arthur sometimes catches himself thinking that it was almost as if Merlin was built to be a king. He may not like the spotlight, but he was a protector, and leader, unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you, Merlin. It feels like years ago now, that you yelled at me in a forest.” He says it with a grin, but Merlin flinches. He continues before The Sorcerer interrupts him though:

“Really Merlin. Thank you. You were right, I would’ve got there in the end, but it wasn’t fair for people to suffer in the mean time, and you took the fall in their place. You’re a hero to your people... and to me. You should be proud of your accomplishments, I know I am.”

Arthur resists the urge to duck his head as Merlin looks at him in bewilderment, a definite flush on his cheeks as he replies:

“I... thank you, Arthur. I always had faith in you-” Merlin begins to grin before he continues:

“-and besides, someone had to knock you down a peg. Perhaps you should hire someone to take you into the forest and yell at you every once in a while.”

Arthur laughs at that, and Merlin tries to push down the blush as Arthur responds:

“Now Merlin, why on earth would I hire someone for such a job, when I already have you?”

Merlin chuckles as he answers:

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, My Lord. Hold the horses, I’ll just be a minute.” With that, Arthur realises they’ve made it to the well, and dismounts as Merlin has, holding both of the horses reigns as he watches Merlin approach the well.

The Sorcerer crouches down, and once again closes his eyes in concentration as he presses his hands into the stone of the well. The glow is a little less bright this time, but Arthur admires it nonetheless.

Merlin finishes quickly, and gathers his horse from Arthur once more, nodding towards the castle.

Arthur follows as Merlin hurries towards the looming building. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush, but he only begins questions it when Merlin hurriedly hands the horses of to a stablehand, and continues to run up the castle steps.

Arthur can only just keep up with Merlin, not having the breath to ask him what’s wrong, before Merlin suddenly comes to a stop, catching his breath for a moment to go through a door leading to the highest balcony on the West of the castle:

“Merlin... what.... what are you-”

Merlin wordlessly interrupts The King as he points to the skyline, the sun only a few minutes away from touching the horizon.

There’s not a cloud in sight, and the sky is painted in oranges and pinks in front of them, bleeding into deep purples and blues behind the castle.

Merlin finally mutters, not looking away from the sunset:

“Call me a girl all you want Arthur, but nothing compares to this. It’s beautiful, I come to watch it whenever I’ve got the time.”

Arthur had only glanced briefly at the sunset before looking back at Merlin in wonder, a fond smile on his face (not that Merlin would notice).

He stares at the side of Merlin’s face, the orange sky making the gold in his eyes look even brighter, and the glare of the fading sun making his hair shine. A gentle breeze has Merlin shiver slightly, and Arthur’s smile widens as he responds, so quietly he’s not even sure if Merlin hears him:

“Hmm. Beautiful.” He doesn’t look away.

THIS IS COMPLETED! All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific let me know✌️

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 4)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: some awkwardness, and almost-nudity, and a sex scene but not the kind you’re expecting (lol) just fluff y’all!

moodboard and inspiration credit to @evnscvll

Mrs. Alberti asking you for the rent made you realize a month had passed. You couldn’t tell if it had gone by quickly or slowly; a little of both, perhaps.

You pulled the finished page from your typewriter and placed it in the stack. You were finally done with the first chapter; pretty good for a month of time to work, incredible for how distracted you’d been. Still, as you flipped through the pages you’d worked on, you appreciated that this was simply the very beginning of a very early draft. You realized you should probably write the ending next, as that was usually how you handled a mystery like this, but you were compelled to try a different method this time and see if you could get the first draft done chronologically. You got the sense that this story wasn’t going to end the way you’d thought it would when you’d started it...

Your evening jog took a new path this time, one which happened to run right past the smaller cottage that Mrs. Alberti inhabited. You noticed her windows were open— as they should be on a day as nice as this— and for a second you glanced and saw someone inside…

Wait, is that… Arnold Schwarzenegger?

With a chuckle, you realized that you were seeing the TV. As you ran further ahead, the angle changed to show it was Sebastian sitting on the end of her bed and watching it. She’d mentioned that she was going out for groceries today… was he just hanging out in there to get some TV time, or was he taking a break from something he’d been doing for her?

This pressing question needed answers ASAP. The only solution now was to go inside and talk to him, of course.

His eyes stayed glued on the screen even as you stepped into the house and pushed open the creaky old door to the bedroom. Seeing the TV again, you realized that this wasn’t just any old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie— it was the best Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.

“Are you watching Terminator?” you asked with incredulous joy, and he finally turned around.

“Da!” he beamed. “Terminatorul,” he explained, pointing to the television. “Ma voi intoarce,” he mimicked in a deep voice.

“I’ll be back!” you translated as you realized he was quoting the most iconic line, sitting down next to him on the foot of the bed and watching the movie as well.

It was dubbed in Romanian— technically you couldn’t tell that it was Romanian just by hearing it, but you could tell based on how entranced Sebastian was by it; he must’ve understood what was going on. The best part was that you understood it too, based mainly on context clues and your vague memory of the movie. Being able to share something with him was unexpectedly gratifying.

He was over halfway in, and you were trying to figure out what was going on now; this scene was all a conversation, so it was all lost on you. Sarah Connor and what’s-his-face talking about something, presumably about how her son was the future leader of the resistance against the machines. You realized that this was a sort of strange movie. And why was the guy shirtless for seemingly no reason? No wonder Sebastian likes this movie, this guy must be his role model, you thought as you chuckled to yourself.

Okay, they weren’t talking anymore… they were kissing. That’s fine— good for them right? It’s not weird to watch this right next to Sebastian… although it is weird that they’re still kissing...

Oh god. This movie has a sex scene? Why didn’t you remember this part?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him. But that just meant you were staring down the screen, and didn’t that make it seem like you were really into Linda Hamilton getting sensually railed? So you glanced to him to break the tension and nope, that definitely made it worse as you both suddenly made eye contact and then instantly looked away. Your heart was racing for no particularly good reason, and your palms were all sweaty— just in time for his hand to brush against yours. You didn’t want to jerk away for fear of seeming flighty. Nothing wrong with the side of his hand touching yours, right?

Well, a lot of things were wrong with it, specifically the way that it was making your breaths short and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you didn’t want him to know any of that so you stayed still.

It seemed to go on forever, and it would’ve been laughably cheesy if you were with anyone else. Normally, you had no trouble at all laughing with Sebastian, but this was different.

“Această parte este... interesantă…” Sebastian mumbled.

“I didn’t realize it was going to go on this long,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s probably good to break the silen— oh shit, that’s a boob!” you gasped. “They can show this on TV?!”

Sebastian laughed a bit, apparently noticing how your change in tone conveniently coincided with the nip-slip.

Just a few more minutes of excruciating awkwardness and it was over; you both let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief when it ended.

“I thought it would never end,” you chuckled nervously.

“Nu fi gelos, ea nu este nimic în comparație cu tine,” he replied, still looking at you even though you were looking anywhere but back at him. You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again after that— not that it had ever been easy for you. But now that he was staring at you it felt even weirder to not look back. So you did, just for a second, only to be startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening.

You jumped up from the bed, and Sebastian turned as well.

“Oh!” Mrs. Alberti gasped. “I didn’t expect to see… both of you in here.”

“Ți-am răsturnat salteaua și ți-am schimbat așternutul,” Sebastian offered as he jumped up, motioning to the bed quickly. What could he possibly mean by that?

“We were just watching some TV,” you explained.

“Uh huh,” Mrs. Alberti smiled. “Well, Sebastian, that’ll be all, thank you,” she dismissed him with a smile and a little bow.

“Mulțumesc. Bună seara,” Sebastian bowed in return, nodding at you before scurrying out of the room. You started to leave as well, but Mrs. Alberti stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, were you two really just watching TV?” she asked quietly, eyebrow raised in question.

“Um, yeah…” you replied, confused.

“Then why did you both jump up like I was interrupting something important? Seriously, I was concerned you were in the middle of ruining the sheets he’d just put on for me.”

You choked but broke into an awkward grin. “Uh, I’m not sure. I guess you just startled us.”

“Yes, well, it’s my room, so you maybe shouldn’t be so surprised when I show up there next time. You two have the whole house to yourselves, not sure why you had to come all the way over here—”

“Mrs. Alberti, really, it’s not like that,” you assured.

She squinted as she leaned in closer, examining your face. With her incredibly short stature, she had to pull you down towards her to get a better look. “Hmph,” she frowned suddenly, “I don’t think you’re lying. Honestly? I sort of wish you were.”

“Wh— why?” you stammered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I suppose I thought you two would make a handsome couple.”

“Yeah, well, he’d be doing most of the heavy lifting in that department,” you chuckled.

“You speak poorly of yourself too often,” she frowned again, slapping you on the shoulder. “You’re perfectly deserving of someone like Sebastian.”

“Well, that’s sort of irrelevant, isn’t it? We don’t even speak the same language,” you reminded her firmly.

“Did you and your ex-husband speak the same language?”

You stopped, straightening up and looking back at her with wide eyes.

“I’m old,” she explained with a glimmer in her eye, “but I’m not stupid. And I’m sorry that you’re going through that.”

“Um, thank you,” you mumbled, still shell shocked from her deduction and from hearing someone refer to your husband as your ex-husband for the first time. You figured you should get into that habit soon, but it was difficult to imagine. Even as much as you’d loved being here so far, part of you imagined that it was just a vacation, and soon you’d go home and go back to the life you’d had. Of course you would go back home someday, it wasn’t like you were moving to the Hungarian countryside, but the home you’d be going back to was going to be entirely unrecognizable to you. “And, to answer your question,” you continued, “of course my hu— ex-husband spoke English…”

Mrs. Alberti laughed, but in a sad way. It was the saddest you’d seen her since you’d arrived, even more than when she’d told you about Mr. Alberti’s passing. “Sweetheart,” she sighed, “obviously you both spoke English. But I don’t think you spoke the same language at all.”

You furrowed your brows as you pondered that. You’d known what she meant the first time she said it, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to accept it. Mostly because it made you immediately realize that she was right about your marriage. If only she’d thought to tell you before it had ended the way it did.

“Goodnight,” she smiled, stepping past you as you left her room, and her house, and stepped into the night.

You usually worked in your room, but it was feeling a little extra musty this morning so you decided to haul your typewriter to the lakeside and work in the sunshine and fresh air. You could’ve asked Sebastian to lift it for you, but frankly, you'd been hoping to avoid Sebastian as he had been the biggest barrier to your writing progress so far. And yet, with your luck, of course he would appear— and not to garden or hammer or do anything like that, but simply to bring you coffee.

"Cafea," he smiled as he offered you the mug.

You accepted it with a smile of your own, although you wondered if he could tell you were nervous. "Thank you—”

You were cut off by him lifting your empty mug from this morning, which had been holding down all of your completed pages. The wind inconveniently picked up at that moment, and instantly the pages were swept into the air and right towards the lake.

"Shit!" you yelped as you lept up, pushing him aside to run to the pier. Still, you couldn't even get close to catching any of them, and watched helplessly as they fell into the water.

You felt yourself be shoved away and didn't realize until he was in the water that it was Sebastian, diving past you to swim after your papers.

"No, don't— it's not worth it!” you called out, but he ignored you, paddling ahead with all the determination and speed of a professional swimmer— maybe he was one before he did this, you wouldn’t know. You chewed your nails and felt horrifically guilty for all the work he was doing, and with a burst of foreign courage, you found yourself shirking your cardigan and shirt to join him. Maybe he didn’t mind getting his clothes wet with dirty lake water, but you did.

As you shimmied your skirt down, he looked back at you and his eyes went a little wide. When you woke up this morning, you had no intentions of stripping in front of Sebastian, let alone near-skinny dipping with him, but then again, you hadn’t planned on half your novel blowing away either.

You tossed your clothes aside and took one last stabilizing breath before diving in.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” you screeched once your head was back above the surface, and you heard him laughing. You weren’t particularly in a laughing mood as you tried to grab the soaked papers around you.

“Arăți ca o pisică care a căzut în cadă,” he chuckled as he swam closer again, holding a ball of wet parchment in his hand and grabbing a few more on the way.

After fishing a few final pages out of the reeds, the two of you awkwardly walked up to the shore. Now that you were in your underwear with the wind blowing on you, you were jealous of his wet clothes which, while doing almost nothing, did at least shield him from the elements.

You dashed into the cottage side-by-side, like kids racing down the street— though really it was just a matter of self preservation. When you did make it inside, you started to lay the papers flat on the table to at least start the drying process; you hadn’t even realized he’d left the room until he came back and wrapped a fluffy towel around you, giving you one of those gentle smiles that made your heart just melt.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, noticing the way his hands rested on your shoulders longer than they needed to. Even through the terrycloth his hands felt strong, and warm, and his touch made you shiver in a way totally irrelevant to the cold.

“Cu plăcere,” he replied.

“It’s a shame you can’t understand me,” you sighed. Only as you said it aloud did you realize that he did understand you; sure, he didn’t understand the words you were speaking, but, in a way no one else had before, he understood you. Somehow.

“Nu vorbesc engleza, dar înțeleg limba iubirii,” he spoke softly, nearly a whisper. “Și cred că înțelegeți și voi asta.”

Even with no idea what he was saying, the way that he was looking at you said even more. You wanted to kiss him more than you'd wanted anything in a long time, but even in that wretchedly perfect moment you knew it wasn't worth the trouble. First of all, you couldn't be sure that he felt anywhere near the same way about you. Secondly, even if he did, this was exactly the wrong time— and place, now that you thought about it— to be starting something. Thirdly, he probably didn't want to start something at all! He was just a nice young man who did exceptionally stupid things in order to make you happy. That's normal handyman stuff, right?

'Odd jobs,' that's what Mrs. Alberti had said he did for her, and for you by extension as a guest in her place.

"Cafea?" Sebastian offered you, stepping back towards the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you," you nodded quickly, smiling at him. He smiled back and carded his fingers through his damp hair before disappearing into the kitchen to start a fresh pot.

Odd jobs indeed.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fanfic

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Making an additional post to respond to @fuyunoakegata’s response to @fiyaerrigan’s post here without derailing or going too far afield from the OP:

I think an additional thing to consider that the other kids had by benefit of Dick being the eldest is......every single one of them to varying degrees had Dick to look to as a precedent for like.....reassuring themselves that their presence in Bruce’s life wasn’t a temporary thing. Dick’s constant or recurring presence was an affirmation of permanence - that no matter how bad things got between Bruce and one of his kids, since things HAD been very dicey between Dick and Bruce for awhile - Dick still was there, at the end of the day.

Now, the obvious sorta exception to this is in Jason’s POV, with it being a sorta exception cuz there’s a couple different ways you can play this. By emphasizing how much Bruce and Dick were on the outs from Jason’s POV while he was living with Bruce, you CAN cast doubt on the idea that Dick was proof things would never get so bad with Bruce that he would just stop being part of their lives. And then this in turn can be used as a sort of explanation for why Jason was so convinced that there was no coming back from a lot of what he’d done by his return to Gotham, even without the events of UTRH....like, you can make the case that this is why Jason escalated things to that extent period. He thought reconciliation was never truly ever an option.

But by the same token, you can also use the fact that Dick IS reconciled with Bruce by the time of UTRH to seed doubts about this in Jason’s head, because he DOES remember just how bad things were between Bruce and Dick when he was younger....and if they could come back from that, maybe it WASN’T just wishful naivete to think that there could be a future for Bruce and Jason’s relationship as well, y’know?

To cycle back to the beginning though....it should be acknowledged imo that Dick never had the benefit of this proof of permanence, this security blanket of knowing that no matter how bad things got with Bruce, there wasn’t truly a point of no return. That WAS in doubt for him a lot of the time. Which gives him all the more motivation to see what we so often see evidence of in the comics - Dick going above and beyond to stress to his siblings that they aren’t temporary in his eyes, and their connection is not just limited to being via Bruce. They’re his siblings with or without Bruce in the picture.

Now to respond more directly to what @fuyunoakegata had to say in that last reblog addition, I think the fact that Dick is so good at translating what Bruce leaves unspoken is actually a key part of the conflict between Dick and Bruce at so many points. Because the thing is....Dick should never have HAD to become that good at it. He became good at it by necessity, because Bruce does leave a lot unspoken and taken for granted, and at a certain point Dick realized he’d just have to fill in the blanks himself.

But given that Dick was the traumatized kid that Bruce chose to take in as an adult - no matter how young of an adult he was - there’s an inherent disservice in not recognizing that it should never have been on that kid to feel HE had to be the one to bridge the communication divide between himself and his guardian when said communication felt lacking. That is the responsibility of the guardian or parent, its literally a key part of the sense of security its their job to offer the traumatized orphan in their care.

That’s not to say, however, that its not realistic for this to happen this way - and for reasons that actually have nothing whatsoever to do with Bruce, and everything to do with Dick. Because it is possible that Bruce just never quite clued into just how much Dick was assuming the burden of translating Bruce’s intentions into actual communication and filling in the gaps where Bruce was leaving stuff unsaid.....because as I’ve said before, for all their similarities and parallel tragedies, a key part of Dick’s tragedy that Bruce simply couldn’t relate to, was the abandonment fear of being sent away for not being good enough or being too much of a burden. Bruce has HUGE abandonment issues due to his own tragic loss of his parents - but his abandonment issues tend to be more geared around losing people to tragedy or death.

Now from a parental standpoint, he does have fears of driving his kids away by not being good enough for them or by hurting them in various ways, true.....BUT the specific overlap he lacks is that he’s never really identified from the perspective of a child, with that fear of a parent or guardian not wanting to deal with him or be burdened by him anymore. When he was raised by Alfred, he feared losing Alfred in a variety of ways, but not really so much by driving Alfred away or making him sick of him....because there has always been at least an implicit awareness, even while acknowledging that Alfred basically raised him, that Alfred still technically worked for the Wayne family, and Bruce simply wasn’t ever in a position to feel quite as dependent on Alfred and say...his ‘whims’ or whatever, as other children might in regards to their own parents. Alfred’s loyalty is readily apparent and of a more....fundamental sort than most others can claim, y’know?

So I think one of the key divides between Dick and Bruce, a NATURAL area of oversight for Bruce, who tends to take for granted at times how much he and Dick are alike in certain ways.....is that it wouldn’t necessarily ever occur to Bruce just how much Dick feared being a burden who could and might be sent away at any time he became too difficult to be worth putting up with anymore. And by not realizing how big a role this played in Dick’s thoughts as he grew up, its natural that Bruce wouldn’t necessarily notice just how almost....eager Dick was to jump at filling in gaps in communication himself rather than risk having to insist Bruce clarify himself or his intentions in order to be understood instead. Dick didn’t want to give his guardian any reason to send him packing - so he voluntarily took up the role of Bruce-translator early on, before ever even alerting to Bruce that there was anything about his communication tendencies that might be lacking and left Dick occasionally grasping for assumptions to fill in the blanks.

But see, the problem that naturally arises from this sort of inherent miscommunication or oversight, no matter how understandable it is....is that it over time builds in an expectation or even reliance on Dick doing the majority of the work and emotional labor when it comes to understanding each other. And the precise problem this creates lies in when Dick for whatever reason - such as believing Bruce has already as good as cast him aside and no longer wants to be burdened with him - like, if for whatever reason Dick STOPS doing the majority share of their communication, if he no longer sees a reason to translate Bruce’s thoughts into actual words of affirmation and read approval into his actions or assume the best of Bruce’s intentions......if Dick basically just stops TRYING here, because he’s convinced there’s no longer any reason to try and the worst has already happened, the very thing he was going above and beyond in filling in Bruce’s gaps in communicating himself in order to avoid happening in the first place....

Then Bruce is going to flounder, naturally, because all of a sudden its going to seem like nothing he says or does in the ways he’s always been used to communicating himself like, seem to be getting through to Dick or leaving him with the same understanding or awareness of Bruce’s true feelings that he’s grown used to Dick having, based just on whatever Bruce DOES actually do or say.

So from Bruce’s perspective, its going to be like nothing he says seems to make any impact on Dick or convey to him that Bruce does in fact still love him and care....BECAUSE Bruce hasn’t quite realized yet just how much Dick has HAD to fill in those blanks for himself, because Bruce’s actual communicating of them has not actually involved ever FULLY expressing those sentiments.

Hence, their complete communication breakdown after Dick was fired and/or Jason was made Robin and adopted without consulting or even alerting Dick to the fact beforehand, or reassuring him that this didn’t actually say anything about Bruce’s feelings for his eldest. As well as Bruce’s seeming obliviousness as to why.

And another thing I want to add here is that I always tend to push back a lot against people bringing up how young Bruce was when he took Dick in, and how that explains his lapses in parenting....

Because the thing this fails to take into account IMO is that like.....by and large, and with obvious occasional exceptions like Robin: Year One.....its almost unanimously agreed that Bruce was at his BEST as a parent to Dick - whether thinking of himself as his father yet or not - in their early years together. So I don’t see how Bruce’s young age can excuse his later lapses in parenting Dick, when it was at his YOUNGEST, that Bruce was at his BEST in parenting Dick. To me, his age has nothing to do with it. The difference in Bruce’s effectiveness in being a parent to Dick at various stages in my mind lies entirely in the fact that in those early years, Bruce was most consistently putting in his most effort into being there for Dick, being the person Dick needed him to be, etc.

Basically, those early years were so good between them, compared to other periods, because even with Dick assuming more responsibilities than he ever should have had to - but for completely understandable reasons ie Bruce simply not REALIZING Dick was so desperate to not be a burden he was making sure Bruce never realized there was a problem here at all - the bottom line was it was in those earliest years that Bruce most consistently TRIED. He put his best foot forward. He did the WORK.

And thus the problem in the later years of Dick’s youth, IMO, had nothing to do with Bruce’s own relative youth - it was that I think Bruce had just gotten comfortable with their dynamic and lost sight of how much of that was due to his own EFFORT. He started to take Dick for granted, and thus defaulted more towards frustration when he didn’t understand why Dick did something or where he was coming from....where previously, he would have been more patient as he applied his intellect towards trying to figure out for himself WHY Dick was acting the way he was or what it might signify.

BUT. The point of all this digression is like.....me working my way around to how there’s not JUST an opportunity for Dick to buttress Bruce’s lapses in parenting for his younger siblings, and for them to benefit from him having gone first.....BUT, if people WANT there to be....there’s also every bit as much to fix or address a lot of the flaws in Bruce and Dick’s relationship via Bruce learning from things with his younger children like....an awareness of WHY he and Dick grew apart and how it can be addressed.

For an example.....with Jason. I’ve commented before on how a lot of authors doing revisitations of Bruce and Jason’s early years together in fic actually do a GREAT job of showcasing how patient Bruce is with him, and understanding of his history and why he behaves in various ways or reacts to things differently than Bruce would or expects.

And a lot of focus is put on how in the comics, when Bruce talks to Dick about why he took Jason in, he describes himself as having seen Jason as being a lot like him, and thus thought he could help him with his anger, etc.

See, I have always, ALWAYS, called bullshit on this point. (And that’s aimed at the comics canon btw, not fic writers).

Because uh, I just don’t see it at all. First off, Jason has always had even less in common with Bruce than Dick did, and second like, the only thing that Bruce has ever pointed to as feeling similar to Jason in....is Jason’s anger.

And like....early Jason, even after the post-Crisis origin retcon, like...wasn’t that angry! His supposed anger issues come from all of like, two different stories and that’s it. And I don’t buy that Jason was the first kid in all the time Bruce had been Batman by that point, that like, Bruce saw as a kindred spirit due to just being ANGRY. Umm, no. Sorry. That doesn’t track for me.

Especially because like....when Bruce first encountered Jason? When he first MADE the decision to take Jason in? First when meeting him stealing his tires, at which point he took him to Ma Gunn, and then after finding out that was a criminal front and deciding to take Jason in himself? Jason was like....literally not even angry in any of those encounters, lol. He just wasn’t.

Jason was scared. He was defiant. He was stubborn. He was proud. He was vulnerable. He was doing his damnedest not to show it. He was a lot of things.

What he wasn’t.....was...angry.

And so I truly don’t believe that Bruce took Jason in for reasons that had anything to do with identifying with him and seeing himself in Jason.

I think Bruce looked at that tiny young vulnerable but proud, spirited and defiant kid before him, utterly unrepentant about stealing Bruce’s tires and then hitting him with a tire iron and then with the Ma Gunn storyline....

And Bruce saw a young Dick Grayson reflected in the boy before him.

Bruce missed Dick and took Jason in as a kind of do-over, a chance to fix the mistakes he barely understood making with Dick to lose him from his life or drive him away in the first place....and just resolved to do BETTER this time. To not make the same mistakes. To be patient, understanding, to try and get why Jason did and thought the things he did instead of just making his own assumptions.

And the painful irony is that despite Bruce’s best intentions in the comics, history DID repeat himself. He and Jason became estranged, even before Jason’s death - by Bruce projecting himself and his own issues and viewpoints onto Jason rather than see Jason as an entirely different person from him. He grew to take Jason and their dynamic for granted the same way he did with Dick. A significant element of the Garzonas story that never gets talked about is that after they captured Garzonas the second time, after Gloria’s suicide and before taking him into the police where Garzonas ended up just walking again....

Bruce stood back and literally encouraged Jason to take out his anger and frustration on the man. The same way Bruce sometimes did with criminals himself. He literally stood there and watched as Jason vented his anger by beating up Garzonas further.

And THIS is the heart of why Bruce reacted the way he did with Garzonas’ death, I think. Especially when you couple it with how much of Bruce’s reactions in UTRH are based around how HIS entire reason for being unwilling to kill the Joker is because he doesn’t think he could just stop there, couldn’t pull himself back from doing it again. I think Bruce just ASSUMED that Jason had pushed Felipe to his death, because he projected himself into Jason’s shoes, and saw that moment playing out from how he feared HE HIMSELF would have reacted in that moment, if he were say as young as Jason still was at the time, and frustrated by how futile everything felt. He assumed the worst of Jason, because he identified with Jason, and in that moment, was projecting his own worst assumptions of himself in a parallel moment of intense emotional frustration and anger.

Like I said.....he drove Jason away by making the same mistakes he’d made with Dick in essence - he projected too strongly on identifying with them and thus viewing their actions or choices through the lens of how he would behave in similar circumstances and WHY....and he stopped doing the WORK of keeping in mind that they were very different people from him with very different reasons for choosing the things they choose, different histories, different priorities, different contexts.

So the point is like.....instead of letting things play out like that, since fic IS an opportunity to improve upon canon, you can draw upon literally ANY of these ideas, and like.....examine what happens if not only Dick helps his siblings in their relationships with Bruce by drawing from his own experiences with him and the mistakes there.....

But you can also examine what happens if Bruce is helped in his relationship with Dick by drawing from his experiences with his younger children and using those to identify mistakes he made with Dick specifically, and address them even now....instead of just writing off his relationship with Dick as the best it’ll ever be now and damaged beyond further repair and so instead devoting himself to trying to just do better with his younger kids.

Because see what happens then, if you use Bruce’s patience and understanding while raising a young Jason, and awareness of just how different Jason is from him....to glean for HIMSELF, without having to be told by others....an awareness that no, maybe he took in Jason for reasons that had far more to do with regrets having to do with Dick than because of identifying with Jason just himself. And from there.....a simple examination of his relationships with Dick and Jason respectively, like, even just to wonder what’s so different about his differing dynamics with the two and why is so much better now than the other...that’s literally all that’s needed for Bruce to become AWARE of how patient he is with Jason and his seeming idiosyncracies, to acknowledge the work and EFFORT he puts into building and maintaining his relationship with a young Jason....and from there....the realization that....holy shit, he’d taken Dick for granted, and THAT’S why things broke down between them. He’d stopped TRYING to understand Dick the way he was working so hard now to understand Jason, and instead just started getting frustrated with the fact that he so often DIDN’T understand Dick, period.

And once you have Bruce HAVE that epiphany, GAIN that awareness....

Its the easiest thing in the world to just write him GOING to Dick and just like...acknowledging this. Owning his faults. Admitting that he took Dick for granted and put too much reliance on Dick doing most of their communicating, fell back on it being easier that way and stopped placing importance on being the one to take the LEAD in their relationship and addressing its flaws, as the PARENT.

And just saying.....its not too late to fix this. If I can do it with Jason, if I could do it with you in the first place, I can do it again. All I need is for you to give me the opportunity to try to do just that, to do better, and instead of demanding that or expecting it from you or even just hoping for it but never actually voicing it....here is me asking for it, but letting you know I understand if you don’t trust me with that or want to risk yourself like that again.

And whammo zammo, you’ve got yourself a road to a healthier, happier Batfam, and it doesn’t require actually vilifying anyone or expecting anyone but the patriarch of the family to like....take the actual wheel.

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the-shiniest-plant · 3 years

Text

OC Interview: Fionnuala

Draw (or use an old drawing, don’t worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions!

(I was tagged by @uselessidiotsquad and @thoseofuswhoblossom! Hi, guys!)

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

- Hi! I’m Fionnuala, Nuala to friends, family, and anyone who finds my name difficult to pronounce. I’m a member of the Crystal Bloom, one of Aurene’s Champions, former Slayer of the Order of Whispers, former Warden, and Maker of Friends! Nice to meet you all!

What is your Gender Identity, Orientation, and Relationship Status?

- Cisgender Female, Panromantic Demisexual, and Single. Turns out not a lot of people want to date someone who’s dragon-branded… which I can understand.

When and where were you born?

- I was born in the Grove about…. Five minutes after midnight… sometime in the Season of the Phoenix, in… 1310! Yeah, that’s about right. I can’t remember what day, but the day doesn’t really matter to Sylvari more than the time of day, so… I guess it makes sense. Does that answer your question well enough? Yes? Good! What’s next?

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

- I fight with two longswords - one in each hand - and though I’m heavily armored I can and prefer to jump in and out of the Dream like most Revenants do the Mists in order to get the drop on my foes. I do use hammers from time to time when I need to hit something far away that I can’t get to. Though, most of all, I like to use the magic of Aurene to lend support to my allies in battle - regeneration, strength, cunning… though I can’t do that too much or it wears me out. Still makes me happy knowing my allies may have survived because of these gifts.

Lastly, are you happy?

- Well, I’m as happy as my current life situation allows me to be. I know I could be happier, if I had different circumstances, but right now I feel like I’m… content at the very least - my brother is safe, my Mother is getting healthier by the day, and I’m always willing to answer Aurene’s call to service. I’m a bit lonely, in all honesty, when apart from my friends in Rurikton, but for now I’m okay with that - I figure when the right person for me comes along, I won’t be so lonely anymore.

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

- I have a pod-brother, Sitheach! He’s a wonderful person, and I love him dearly. We’re very close, and we write to one another all the time when he’s on missions for the Pale Reavers, just to keep each other posted on current situations. He’s been home for a bit now, which is a blessing. His boyfriend misses him terribly when he’s away so seeing them back together warms my sparkly little heart!

Have you ever run away from home?

- Nope! I’ve been called everywhere I’ve been, so technically I haven’t “run away” from anything.

Would you consider marriage or having children?

- Well, marriage is a foreign concept to Sylvari, as is childbirth, but I would absolutely love a partner, and would certainly adopt orphaned children of other races if my partner was also okay with raising them, as I highly doubt with my duties as a Champion of Aurene would allow me to effectively raise a child alone. I like to think I’d be a good mother, though.

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

- Pfffft, what kind of a question is that!? Why on Tyria would you call someone a friend if you secretly hated them? How silly!

Which friend knows everything about you?

- The only people on Tyria that know all about me are my brother, and my best friend Elspeth. That being said, I’m rather open to questions so if you see me in public and want to know more about a specific sliver of my life, just ask! I’ll do my best to answer.

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

- I can definitely read and write, as most if not all Sylvari can do that from emergence, and… does the Dream count as schooling? I know learning from Mentors does, but I feel like I learned more from the Dream than I ever did from my mentor - sorry, Maeryn, but it’s true!

What’s the eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

- I don’t think I’ve made any predictions like that, it’d be handy if I could, though… I wish I could’ve predicted the attack on the Grove during the World Summit… if we were prepared… maybe, just maybe Mother wouldn’t have been so grievously injured…

What is something that you were embarrassingly late in realizing?

- I partially understood how the other races weren’t born from pods, but what I didn’t know was the process of mammalian conception and live birth, until a kind Asura explained it to me during a stay in Divinity’s Reach. Hi, Quizz! Hope you’re well!

Do you have mental health or physical issues?

- Hoo boy, where to start… Anxiety and a bit of depression, mostly. Not being on the scene in time to help defend mother during the Shadow of Mordremoth’s attack… it really hit my self-esteem, so now, whenever I’m too late to save an innocent life, it… it haunts me for days…

What is your current main goal?

- My current goal is to protect the people of Tyria and help them in whatever way I can. It may or may not be a compulsion that I get from being Branded, but I’d likely do that anyway without the compulsion, so it works out.

Choices

Drinks or food?

- Drinks! Nothing like a good glass of Nectar after a long day of doing good things!

Cats or dogs?

- Dogs. Sylvan hounds. Specifically the puppies... I need to visit Danador’s Kennel again!

Early bird or night owl?

- Definitely a Night Owl! Which makes sense because of my Cycle. I thrive in the Evenings!

Optimist or Pessimist?

- My friends have never known me to be anything but optimistic in all my endeavors, and I certainly don’t plan to stop now!

Sassy or Sarcastic?

- Ooh, hard choice… they both have their merits… can I say “both”? Is that okay? I honestly can’t choose with this one!

Have you ever…

Been caught sneaking out?

- Of a Nightmare Camp? Yes. On several occasions, actually. I got a lot better at not being caught after I joined the Order of Whispers. Mostly because I didn’t have Ellie to help distract my foes so I could make an escape, if I was caught. Which I wasn’t! Not after Whispers.

Broken a bone?

- Never! Not even during Dragonstorm! Rather lucky on that front, my Priory friend lost her whole arm! Hi, Vledda!

Received flowers?

- No. Grown several myself, though.

Ghosted someone?

- Like, turned them into a ghost? Probably several people.

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

- Oh, plenty, when I was a sapling. I understood humor more and more as I kept living.

And there you have it! I tag @moonlit-grove again because I want Sitheach Lore, dang it!

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #guild wars 2 ask meme #Fionnuala #guild wars 2 oc #i love her #my baby #precious bloom #interview meme

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n-miri · 3 years

Text

come get your ghost!tommy au content, lads

cw for: mentions of death, blood

the world tilts on its axis and—

there is blood in your mouth. this, you know for certain.

the wheat fields shine golden beneath afternoon sunlight, on the cusp of harvesting. it smells of after-rain, somewhere distant. overhead the skies are clear. music—familiar, it’s so familiar, the name of the song is on the tip of your tongue—plays in the undertones of a delicate scene.

“Tommy?”

you turn, blinking spectral blood out of your eyes. what seems like stardust trickles into the grey form standing -floating, technically- in front of you, and he shines like a myriad of constellations, a portrait catching light.

the air tastes of childhood nostalgia. reeks of it, really. without a warning, you’re suddenly terribly overwhelmed with the feeling of homesickness. you never wanted any of this; to be here, to be stuck with Dream, to be more than the protagonist everyone makes you to be. yet here you are, always the brunt of a stupid fucking joke. here you are.

“Long time no see, Wilby.” and it must be hilarious, to bear such solemnness on a young face like yours. a child playing pretend-war. a soldier wielding a toy sword. counting scars on every finger and every toe like it’s a math game. it must be funny, to be a kid in this day and age.

you try for a close-lipped smile. there is still blood in your mouth, bubbling at the back of your throat; you don’t choke on it. the grey fluid trickles down the corners of your lips like saliva and despair. hopelessness and desperation and Dream! Dream stop, please, Dream, I’m on a- half a heart, stop-

a gust of quiet wind blows through the stalks of wheat, whispering its grievances. for a moment you can pretend to feel the sensation against ghostly skin and through ghostly hair. for a moment, your lungs work again and you can truly breathe.

then the moment passes. you try not to think about all the things you no longer have. things you should have never taken for granted. it hurts to do otherwise.

eyes straying from the halcyon view, you take to observing WIlbur. he looks better; less from Pogtopia and more from L’manburg. more like the brother you remember him to be. there is a stain on the right sleeve of his yellow sweater— coffee, probably. or dried blood. differences are difficult to tell.

endearingly enough, the collar is frayed from what must be Wilbur’s constant tugging. he always needed something in his hands to fidget with. once, a long time ago, he would have pressed the tips of his fingers against yours and laugh at the size difference. he would have called you child or big baby or even a softer Toms. though, he stopped doing any of that after the war... which war? suddenly, you can’t recall. you feel light-headed and shoulder-burdened all at once, floating in this timeless space. suffocating.

“Oh, Tommy,” your brother whispers, as wavering as a shadow. and ha, isn’t that funny. that’s exactly what you both are now—mere phantoms intruding upon a picturesque scene, devoid of all colour and light. unremovable stains. you flex your fingers, with blood under your nails, and wish you had taken up Karl’s offer to paint them, if only to see something that wasn’t muted.

the wheat shines in a way your hair did, once. specks of gold tousled from when Philza was still Dadza. when he could ruffle your hair without you flinching away. now your hair is darker than grey, damp with blood that will never dry. your body will decay and the lava continues to bubble; the prison works on and uneaten potatoes rot with it. people will know of your death and Dream will laugh at them all—these truths, at least, are clear.

you are nothing but a bad memory. that is the epitome of your life. it is you. this is how your story ends.

the realisation makes you curl into yourself, all tangled insecurities and an uncontrollable yearn for comfort. all anger and lashing out. a boisterous laugh, a green bandana, a soldier’s uniform, cobblestone towers. two discs separated and one disc broken. it’s all you. even after everything, it’s still you.

“Wilbur,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “Wilbur,” you call out, reminiscent of the times nightmares pervaded your sleep and you would climb into his bed for safety. “Wilbur,” you sob, because oh, you died, this is truly the end-

your brother crosses the field in an instant, cradling you in his arms like he did all those years ago, in the earliest of mornings, in the most gentlest of holds, in a house emptier than the afterlife itself. he hums Mellohi into your spectral ear; runs an awkward hand down your back. you cry into his translucent shoulder, all sunlight and hopes and obsolescent dreams.

“You did good, Toms,” your brother whispers. barely a flicker. barely a person. “You tried your goddamn hardest, and you were so, so brave. I’m very proud of you, Tommy.”

Wilbur’s words only make you cry harder. this is the first time you’ve cried since the beginning days of exile, when it finally hit you that your forever best friend had chosen a country -yours, his, ours- over you. it hurt that you understood. it hurt when you left. it hurt when no one came. was your role in history finished already? you had sacrificed so much for an illusion of freedom. you had exposed your heart for the cause. you had been alone and so, very afraid.

and now you’re here, despite it all.

( Dream treads fingers through your scraggly hair. whispers. Oh, Tommy, it’s always been you and me. his mask hides his face and you stare blearily at his chiseled smile. You’re just like me. No one’s going to save you now. )

the both of you stay there for a long, long while. and that is fine. there is far too much time left until the world collapses.

#mcyt #tommy-centric #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #phantommy #ghostinnit #trying out a new writing style #this doesn't make much sense but i'm here to have fun not be coherent #capitalisation and capitalism are the same thing #i respect no one but tommy sympathisers

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glimmerglanger · 4 years

Note

You asked for this, friend: In the oof!au, Obes is gonna need a new lightsaber isn't he? Or at least will need to heal Anakin's. You have any ideas how that goes?

HE SURE IS. I actually think it’s one of the things he gets around to earlier (so, chronologically he starts working on it before the arm is completed, but finished after). SO:

~~~~~~~~~~

So many things were broken.

Obi-Wan felt the cracks, the aching hurts through the Force; it was a constant kind of pressure, always there. He felt it from his men - even from Rex and Ahsoka, who were not, technically, his, but - and himself and…

And even the lightsaber that he kept in his quarters.

He did not know what Anakin had done to his lightsaber. Perhaps there’d been some grand plan in store for it. Perhaps Anakin had planned to use it to cut off his legs. Or to kill him, when Anakin ran out of ways to amuse himself with Obi-Wan’s body.

Whatever his intentions had been, they could no longer come to fruition. It was gone, along with everything else once placed upon the surface of Mustafar.

But Anakin’s lightsaber had come with them, had escaped off of the planet and stayed in Obi-Wan’s care. And it radiated agony, out into the Force. It took days - weeks - for Obi-Wan to identify that bit of agony; there was so much else to work through, first.

When he did, he froze for a long moment, staring at the metal cylinder. It was large, larger than he could comfortably hold. Anakin had not been rebuilt to scale, by whatever butchers had tended him. The saber was dark and grim and Obi-Wan did not like to look at it because Anakin had--

Made it the instrument of some much pain and suffering.

Enough so that the agony radiated out of it, still.

Obi-Wan curled his fingers up to his palms. He considered simply putting the thing in an airlock and spacing it, but… He understood the basic process used by the Sith to torture kyber crystals into compliance. He could not, he found, bring himself to abandon yet another wound caused by Anakin. He drew in a sharp breath and, carefully, went about dismantling the device.

It was easy to fall into the habit of breaking down a lightsaber. He had done it so many times in his life. Each lightsaber was different but each was the same, as well. He twisted and tugged and gently placed the pieces as he went, just as though he were repairing his own.

Except his crystal had never been so dull. There was no visible red glow to it, not the way he had half-expected. It simply looked shadowed. It had no shine. And it radiated agony out into the Force, a sense of corruption and wrongness.

“Sh,” Obi-Wan said, plucking the tiny crystal up and placing it in his palm. It barely weighed anything and felt terribly cold against his skin. He curled his fingers around it and cradled it to his chest, curling over, murmuring, “sh, sh.”

There were methods to heal a kyber crystal. Obi-Wan had heard of them, once upon a time, ever so long ago. He barely recalled them. He’d been a padawan, when he learned the lore and the rituals, and had not thought them something he needed to commit to memory.

After all, he’d assumed, the library would always be there to review the process.

He was still digging through his memories when someone knocked at his door. He did not have to stretch out his senses through the Force to know that it was Cody. After all, he’d been alone for nearly an hour.

That was, to date, close to a record for them.

Obi-Wan shook that thought away. Healing, he knew, took time. He stood, keeping the crystal tucked against his palm, and went to the door, and nodded, though he was not really hungry, when Cody asked if he wanted to go to the mess.

The crystal burned cold against his palm through the meal.

Obi-Wan grew familiar with the cuts and edges of the crystal. He studied it and kept it close and wondered, exactly, how he was supposed to heal it. He meditated upon it, keeping the crystal close, and found it easy to sink down into its presence in the Force.

Something lashed out at him when he did, something sharp edged that slid along his mind. He got the feeling, settled deep in the Force, that it was a strike not meant to cause harm. A warning, instead.

He exhaled, centering himself and refocusing on the crystal and when it struck at him again, he accepted the pain. Sometimes, he knew, healing required pain. A broken bone could not be set without hurt.

And he knew quite well how to handle pain.

The pain radiating out of the crystal did not ease all at once. It faded over time, in bits and snatches, until one morning Obi-Wan woke up and felt no hurt blazing out of it. He uncurled his fingers slowly, and found the crystal clear.

He smiled and curled his fingers closed again, relieved, at least, to have succeeded in fixing something.

He meant, really, to leave things there. The Order had fallen, the Temple had burned, he was...not the warrior he once was. What use did he have, really, for a lightsaber? But that did not stop him from reaching for his belt, more and more often, especially once his prosthetic was completed.

It would always be his first instinct, in a fight, to reach for a lightsaber, to stand as a shield in front of his men. A blaster could kill a man, or at least hurt someone badly enough that they would not rise again.

A lightsaber could deflect a killing blow, could stop a fight before it started.

And so he sighed, eventually, and pulled out the rest of the pieces of Anakin’s lightsaber, frowning over them. They were the wrong size to serve his purposes, but the basic components would work, if he managed to collect enough of what he needed.

He wondered how difficult it would be to arrange a trip to a market. Or perhaps two.

In the end, he made his purchases here and there, while they were going about other business. He thought he’d done a fairly good job keeping his work to himself, at least until Tektek stopped by his side in the mess one day and placed a small spring beside his hand. Obi-Wan had been unable to find one anywhere and looked up, startled.

“It wasn’t hard to make,” Tektek said, gaze cutting to the side, voice quiet.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, reaching his new hand out and gently lifting the spring. “I didn’t - you didn’t have to--”

“I wanted to,” Tektek said, and Obi-Wan could not help but noting that their conversation was suddenly drawing a lot of attention. Crys, a table away, had frozen and was staring at them, wide-eyed, as Tektek cleared his throat and said, “Some of us - we have some other parts. If you’d want them.”

Obi-Wan blinked, rapidly, trying to clear away the burn in his eyes. He said, carefully clearing his throat, “I’d - of course I’d want them.”

And by the time he left the mess he had all the pieces he yet needed, held carefully in his hands. He said, softly, to Cody, who walked beside him the entire way, “I didn’t mean to put everyone to any trouble.”

And Cody hesitated, for just a step, before he slid into motion again and said, “You didn’t.”

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. “I--”

“We want - we - it’s good, to help you,” Cody cut in, touching his arm, so softly that Obi-Wan only barely felt it. He came to a stop and purposefully leaned into the touch, hearing Cody’s breath catch a little.

They did nothing but look at one another for a moment, and then Obi-Wan nodded. He said, soft, “I have everything I need now.”

“So you can make one?” Cody asked, and Obi-Wan hesitated another moment before inclining his head, just a little. “Good,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan wished he could agree so whole-heartedly, so easily.

In the end, Obi-Wan found reasons to put off the construction, but a brutal fight and then another convinced him he could not wait any longer. He was a steady hand with a blaster. He could fight more than well with nothing but his body.

But…

A lightsaber helped. There was no way to deny it. And so he went back to his quarters, relieved when Cody followed him in and sat down at the table to clean his blaster. Obi-Wan laid out all the pieces and...made himself breathe as he constructed them.

It did not take long to complete the work. He closed his eyes and felt each piece in the Force, moving them together without touching them. He tested the balance of the completed saber, sliding the Force over each piece of it, feeling the thrum of the crystal inside.

He stretched out his hand and took it from the air, and it fitted perfectly against his palm and his fingers. He opened his eyes and exhaled, and Cody, who had been sitting quietly across the room asked, “Well, are you going to turn it on?”

Obi-Wan stared down at the saber in his grip, heart twisting unpleasantly in his chest. He knew, very well, that a kyber crystal reflected the person it attuned to, and that he had gently replaced Anakin’s impression on the crystal. He’d spent time with it, carried it with him, it would--

It would know him, when he turned the saber on. It would reflect him. Changes and damage and--

He shut his eyes, looking to the side, fingers clenching tight. “Perhaps later,” he rasped out, throat unpleasantly tight, too able to imagine what the blade might tell him about the parts of himself he didn’t want to see, about what Anakin had done to him, really, not on the outside, but inside--

“Sh,” Cody murmured, quiet, and closer. “It’s -- Obi-Wan.” He reached out, carefully, and gripped Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan blinked, could not help but lean into the touch, the comfort Cody was projecting down at him. He looked up, and found Cody watching him. And Cody said, quietly, “Try it now, please.”

Obi-Wan hesitated another moment, but, in truth, putting it off further wouldn’t solve anything. He swallowed and nodded, tried to center himself in the Force and activated the lightsaber and--

He did not intend to sob at the flash of blue light, but the sound escaped his throat, anyway. And Cody was there, curling an arm around his back, murmuring soothing words against his hair as Obi-Wan slumped into him, relief and disbelief and wild joy all swirling within him.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #oof!au #fallout of trauma #mentions of past torture #loss of a limb #recovery from trauma #codywan

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Plane Shift: The Boiling Isles, Brief Character Portfolio

Hello all, today I am going to go into some measure of detail for the characters in this crossover between the Owl House and Dungeons and Dragons 5e. Everybody clap your hands!!

Now, to give a little heads up, the way this portfolio is set up is based on the following Format:

Character Name

Defining Quote/Motto

Alignment Inclinations

Favored Classes/Known Classes

Brief Profile

Okay, now that the format is listed, time to get into the nitty gritty!

Luz Noceda

“Limits? What are those!”

Chaotic Good/Neutral Good

Primary Class: Wizard, Subclass: Order of Scribes. Secondary Class: Artificer, Subclass: Battle Smith. Tertiary Classes: Paladin, Rogue, and Bard.

The young daughter of the famed Plane Warden and Cleric, Camila Noceda, Luz has always had her head in the clouds, longing for adventure and friendship. Upon entering the Adventurer’s Academy, she proceeded to rock the very foundation of Plana and adventuring by choosing not one, not two, but FIVE classes to train in! She would’ve tried them all, but was talked out of it when they professors made it clear it would be physically impossible for her to take them all, and that the number she had selected would push her to greatest of limits. Luz lives life without limits or regret, and while her extremely impulsive nature has resulted in a rather poor social life, she is greatly beloved among the street dwellers and lower ranks of local organizations and groups of her home.

Amity Blight

“Perfection is impossible. That’s why we seek it.”

Lawful Good/Neutral Good

Primary Class: Warlock, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Artificer.

The youngest child of the affluent Blight Family, recently displaced from her home dimension, Amity holds herself to a strict standard of decorum. Her methodical nature, dedication to study, and respect for authority has made her a divisive figure within the Adventurer’s Academy, as while her new instructors find her dedication admirable, they also worry it will disallow her from living a healthy and happy life. Amity regularly runs afoul of Luz, but the human girl’s friendly nature, genuine endearment, and appreciation for magic and learning has served as a bonding bridge between the two. Hints of something deeper within her heart grow clearer all the while.

Willow Park

“Nature is a blessing to us all. We have a duty to care for it, and each other.”

Neutral Good/Chaotic Good

Primary Class: Druid, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Barbarian.

The only child of the Park family, Willow is a quiet, gentle child all around, but within her lurks a frightening power over nature itself that constantly threatens to break free if not for her ironclad self-control, and kind nature. Once friends with Amity Blight, circumstances forced a rift between them, and she holds that pain as a torch within her heart, always wary of letting it burn her down to nothing but unwilling to let go. Willow’s incredible connection with Plants has made her a rare talent among the Druid classes, and she is constantly called to demonstrate her power before her new peers, much to her delight.

Augustus “Gus” Porter

“So much to learn! So much to experience!”

Neutral Good/Chaotic Good

Primary Class: Wizard, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Bard.

A young prodigy who skipped several grades in his home dimension, Gus is still an outstanding figure when it comes to both technical skill and application of magic. Excitable, kind if somewhat insensitive on occasion, and with a fierce need to prove himself, Gus often finds himself in difficult situations, both socially and dangerously, but he never allows it to affect his optimism. He’s rapidly built a bond with Luz over their shared passion and energy, not to mention his excitement over befriending “an actual real-life human!”

Boscha Triplet

“I saved the day! Why? Because I’m a Star of Course!”

Lawful Neutral

Primary Class: Monk, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Artificer.

An athletic star with an incredible ego, Boscha is by all accounts an unpleasant individual, yet since coming to Plana, she’s gradually shown signs of a more vulnerable personality, one she vehemently denies and buries within herself, much to the chagrin of others. While she initially chose Monk as a joke, thinking it of a blow-off course or something similar, the relentless physical training, and the brutally humiliating smackdown dealt on her first day have served to motivate her to continue and succeed in the Class she chose, if only out of pure spite. The philosophical aspects of Monk training seem to go over her head, yet her friends and foes alike have noted her occasionally seem to verge on saying something mean or crude, only to stop herself and stare off in contemplation.

Skara Levine

“Just go with the rhythm. Everything will work out, right?”

Lawful Neutral

Primary Class: Bard, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Sorcerer.

A young girl who lived at the top, Skara had many halmarks of being a potential problem child, often being easily lead and influenced by those deemed her friends, Skara is typically very sweet and outgoing, but for all her social butterfly moments, they are undercut by her poor interpersonal skills, frequently stumbling onto sensitive topics without any inclination she understood why she shouldn’t bring them up. She is a paradox, being both kind and cruel, nice and mean, in equal measures, the parallel nature of her behavior often befuddles those around her. She’s recently begun stating that she hears things suddenly when no one is around.

Emira Blight

“Don’t worry, I can handle this on my own.”

Chaotic Good/Chaotic Neutral

Primary Class: Rogue, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Fighter.

The oldest daughter of the Blight family, Emira is a mischievous girl with a fondness for mayhem. Nonetheless, she cares for her family and friends, even if her methods occasionally leave much to be desired. Of the Blight Children, Emira is the most independent, often resentful of any perceived restrictions, but calm enough to find workarounds rather than lash out. She frequently professes that looks forward to the day she can live her own life, and enjoys teasing her sister along with her brother.

Edric Blight

“We got this, we just got to stick together.”

Chaotic Good/Chaotic Neutral

Primary Class: Rogue, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Bard.

The lone son of the Blight family, Edric is Emira’s twin, and is in many ways both her equal and her mirror. While sharing her sense of mischief and love of tricks, Edric is far more flighty and whimsical, often hyper-fixating on animals and whatever shiny thing catches his eye, often projecting a childish air about him. He is the most insecure of the Blight siblings, though he hides it well, and dreads the idea of being alone, particularly from his twin.

Viney Arkswood

“Animals are our friends. They have just as much capacity for good as we do.”

Chaotic Good

Primary Class: Ranger, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Druid.

One of three students sentenced to the Detention Track for their mixing of magical disciplines, Viney has a caring heart and a love of people and animals that manifested in a rather strange way, in that she attempted, and technically succeeded, in training her pet griffin to be a nursing assistant. Viney is genuinely unsure if she wishes to return, with the lone benefit in her mind being to see her parents again.

Jerbo Underslack

“I might be nervous, but that doesn’t make me incompetent.”

Chaotic Good/Chaotic Neutral

Primary Class: Cleric, Subclass: Nature Domain. Secondary Class: Druid.

One of the three Detention Track students, Jerbo’s love of plants and his fondness for the idea of loyal aides combined in his creation of plant monsters that trashed the gardens of his school. Jerbo is the most suspicious and leery of his friends, often being slow to trust and even slower to act, he nonetheless is a kind soul, and used his admittance into the Adventurer’s Academy to try and kind some new meaning in his life.

Barcus Howsberry

“Your soul glimmers with the joy of a newfound toy in the arms of a lonely child.”

Chaotic Good

Primary Class: Wizard, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Artificer.

Last and oddest of the three Detention Track students, Barcus’ unusual body and strange speech make him truly bizarre, and his cryptic demeanor doesn’t help. Barcus enjoys both the art of Potions and Prediction, and frequently seeks to join the two. Upon arrival, and confirmation that yes he is a sapient being, Barcus was checked by Camila, and was determined to have a hereditary curse bound to his being, and when offered to have it removed, his comfort with his form initially made him refuse, only to be told that the speech impediment and oddness of his form would destroy any chance of him being able to integrate into society, causing him to compromise and have the curse suppressed instead.

Camila Noceda

“To bring goodness and love in this world means I can rest easy, knowing I left it in the hands of those I love.”

Lawful Good

Primary Class: Cleric, Subclass: Life Domain. Secondary Class: None.

Mother of Luz Noceda, Camila is the current Plane Warden of Plana, being entrusted with guarding the city from extraplanar threats and to help guide and aid those lost between realms. Camila is a loving soul, but the strain of her job has worn on her over the years, with the sole reprieve being her precious daughter. Camila often adopts a motherly role for the displaced children now in her care, offering both advice when needed, and discipline as necessary. Camila also frequently aids and offers advice to the adults now sharing her living space, hoping to help them adjust to their situation.

Edalyn Clawthorne

“I’m the most powerful witch in the Isles, but it never meant a thing until I found someone to use that power for.”

Chaotic Good

Primary Class: Sorcerer, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Wizard.

Fiercest Wild Witch to grace the Boiling Isles since Belos’ ascension, Eda marches to the beat of her own drum, no exceptions, but she still holds a beautiful heart for those she cares for, and people in general, no matter how much she denies it. Eda was genuinely shocked to learn that Camila could, and did, heal her curse, effectively if not easily, and feels a deep sense of obligation towards the woman a a result, not to mention her all around soft spot for Camila’s daughter. Eda genuinely has no desire to return to the Isles at this point, beyond maybe a chance to reconcile with her mother and retrieve Hooty and all her stuff.

Lilith Clawthorne

“I am far from perfect, and have made many mistakes. This is the least I can do.”

Lawful Good/Lawful Neutral

Primary Class: Paladin, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Wizard.

Lilith Clawthorne, elder sister to Eda, means well, but is both painfully naive and far too trusting for one her age, as well as disturbingly childish and immature. For all that though, Lilith holds a good heart and thrives in a structured and ordered environment and system. When she received the knowledge that Eda’s curse had been cured, Lilith was nearly left catatonic, as the curing of Eda rendered all her efforts meaningless and her life without true purpose. When Eda bluntly stated that even with her curse cured she will NEVER join a coven, Lilith forced herself to accept it, no matter how much it hurt. Since that day, Lilith has attempted to find a new direction in life, and to help others as best she can.

Odalia Blight

“Like it or not, one’s word is their bond.”

Lawful Neutral/Lawful Evil

Primary Class: Wizard, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Bard.

Matriarch of the Blight family, and a near-Karen level individual, Odalia is both incredibly goal-oriented and driven by a desire to succeed. Domineering and controlling, Odalia exerts a highly unhealthy and toxic level of influence over her childrens’ lives, though she does truly love them. Odalia enjoys having the upper hand, and will do anything to allow her children and family to not only survive but thrive, and is very much fond of disproportionate retribution against her enemies.

Alador Blight

“This could prove interesting.”

Lawful Neutral/Lawful Evil

Primary Class: Artificer, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: Rogue.

Patriarch of the Blight family, and all around bizarre individual, Alador cares for little in his life aside from his inventions, his wife, and his children, in that order. Often dazed and easily distracted, Alador is highly curious and constantly seeks new inspiration for his devices and creations, no matter how dangerous the circumstances. He cares little for his wife’s antics and schemes, but in no way does he find them unacceptable, he often acts as a stabilizing influence upon her, and is perfectly fine with calling her out on her behavior when she genuinely goes too far.

Hieronymus Bump

“Dedication and Focus are important, but true passion and joy for what you do makes all the difference.”

Neutral Good/Lawful Good

Primary Class: Wizard, Subclass: Undetermined. Secondary Class: None.

Principal to the famed, some would say infamous, Hexside School of Magic and Demonics, Principal Bump loves to teach and help others learn, and is perfectly willing to play the system to ensure he can do so. While he genuinely loves all his students and wishes them to succeed, he is willing to admit he is old-fashioned to a certain extent and can have trouble keeping his views on a topic unbiased, and can occasionally act in unethical ways if it means finding a solution to a problem, though he does not enjoy such measures. He aids Camila in searching for a way to return home for him and his fellows, and often acts as a reasonable authority figure for the students who came with them.

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

O5+Itafushi sick/injured/comfort for Anon 😊 totally canon divergent since we still don’t know a lot about their backgrounds and the series is still on going 🙃 Hurt/Comfort, angst w/happy ending. *Does container manga spoiler aspects if you’re not up to date on it.

It couldn’t be helped... logically, Megumi knew this, but what his brain understood didn’t mean his heart could accept. Yuuji was fated from the beginning to die and he knew— Knew that all the man wanted was to die without regret, and saving their world... well how much more honor could one achieve by fulfilling his grandfather’s dying wish? He should be happy for his friend, content in the knowledge that Yuuji gave them a chance to rebuild a better world without the fear of Ryomen Sukuna ever destroying it. Should be... but he wasn’t.

How many times had Megumi convinced himself they weren’t heroe’s, they were just sorcerers. Spiritual police in a sense, there to protect without a desire for acknowledgement. And that their deaths were both inevitable and not immune to regret. All they could do was their best not to garner too much of it and become the very curses they swore to fight. It was why most jujutsu sorcerers learned from an early age not to care about humanity, or at least lie to themselves that it was a possibility. Such bullshit, really.

So, as he stood there staring down at what remained of his best friend’s body, Megumi couldn’t help the regret bubbling up in his very soul. This was literally and figuratively his fault. Yuuji’s, or rather Sukuna’s exorcism was a combined effort in which he’d participated in. That’s not something you can simply set aside. Yes! Megumi was glad that Sukuna was gone, but so was Yuuji! He didn’t care if his friend had been born into, or chosen to, or somehow been trapped in this fate. It wasn’t fair at all. None of this was fair to any of them, just as his own birth had been an unfortunate creation for revenge.

“Fuck!” Megumi gritted out a barely audible utterance as his nails dug into the clenched fists at his sides, and tears trickled down his face. This wasn’t fair at all!

He shouldn’t even be there. If Gojou sensei knew he’d snuck into the morgue he’d be in trouble. But he didn’t care! They didn’t even let him say goodbye to his friend before carting him off to Dr. Shoko. It was for his own good— pfft, fucking uncaring bastards! Yuuji was the first real person he’d ever connected with who gave him back a sense of the humanity he’d lost along the way. The man made him feel, and now. “Fuck...” Megumi knew he was screwed. His heart had crossed the line. Images of a smiling Yuuji play like a movie behind his closed eyes, bringing a pained smile curling on Megumi’s lips. He’d avoided admitting it to himself, but it was true. He’d fallen for Yuuji Itadori.

It had been an unspoken promise Megumi made to Yuuji, one he’d made deep within his heart the moment it had chosen to cross the line. He’d find a way to sever Sukuna from Yuuji and save his love from the ultimate sacrifice. This promise had never been proclaimed from his own lips, but there was no running from the covenant he’d created in his soul. As Sukuna once explained, certain pacts in their works simply could not be broken.

His knees weakened, crumpling Megumi to the floor in a position of summary execution. All of the emotional walls he’d learned to control, gave way in a flood, sending shadowed curse energy to blanket the room. He didn’t even try to stem the flow of power surging out from his pain. It was entirely selfish to lash out with his regret and anger, but Megumi couldn’t stop... didn’t want to let go. “It’s not fair!” He raged into the still darkness. “I should have saved you! If I was stronger, I could have saved you! But I’m too weak... even now, I can’t...” he hung his head head and closed his eyes, “I can’t even let you die properly because you deserve to live Yuuji...” Because I still need you... Damn the consequences, he’ll take whatever comes his way! “Yuuji!!!”

.....Megumi wasn’t exactly sure what happened, how he ended up passed out on his side, or even how long he was laying there. But something gentle brushed against his face, sweeping his hair aside, and caressing it to stir him awake. His body was groggy from the power drain, eyes barely able to focus in the amber emergency lighting. Whatever it was said nothing, just continued soothing him and coaxing with light prodding to wake up. It felt so nice... Wait! Fuck! Was he caught?! Was it Gojou, Dr. Shoko, someone else?!

His eyes flash open wide as he scrambled to sit up, ready to explain himself, but— “Sukuna?!” Megumi screamed in shock.

“What?!” The naked man stumbled back, looking around in a panic. “Where?! He’s supposed to be dead!”

Megumi adjusted his eyes better, because the form in front of him looked like Yuuji, but with all of the same markings as Sukuna, including the second set of open eyes. Although the voice was different... not exactly Yuuji’s, not Sukuna’s, maybe a mix of both. “Who are you?” He asked, noting that the curse energy flowing from this thing was akin to Sukuna in power and this could be a trick from the God of Curses. Is this what his regret had wrought?!

“It’s me,” the figure stepped forward in confusion, a hand over his chest. “Yuuji. Megumi how could you not know it’s me?”

“Because you look like and feel like Sukuna.”

Yuuji looked down at his body and could see the markings too. But that’s when he also noticed something else in the room. His dead body lying on the operating table. His eyes widen as they whip back to Megumi. “Am I?!” His shaky voice cracked.

It was becoming clear. Megumi nodded. “My regret brought you back as a...”

“Curse...” Yuuji breathed out. He was stunned, and yet somehow not surprised. “Wow... but I don’t look like a normal curse.” He could think and feel, “I’m like Mt. Fuji head?”

“I don’t understand it either. I’m so sorry Yuuji— I just couldn’t let you go.” The tears formed again in Megumi’s eyes. “I’d sworn to myself I’d save you, but I failed miserably and for that... n-now you’re a curse.”

“I should be mad at you.” Yuuji knelt down in front of his friend, smiling. “But I’m not. I know all too well how hard it is to let go of people we care about.”

Megumi shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m being selfish and that’s wrong! I just... I-I just... I love you too much to let you go.”

“You... love me? Like a friend, friend love or...”

Megumi turned away and if it wasn’t so dark his blushing cheeks would be glaringly obvious. “No, the other kind.”

“Brotherly love?”

For a second there, Megumi had to question his own sanity again for failing in love with an idiot. He ran his hand down his face in a huff. “The I wanna kiss you kind! I know you said you like women with big butts and all, but yeah,” he mumbled, “that’s how I feel about you idiot.” His face was truly on fire by this point, only made more difficult by the fact the man he loved was hanging out for all to see.

“Oh!” Yuuji chuckled and sandwiched Megumi’s face between the palms of his hands. “I’m just messing with you. I knew that for a while now.”

“Wait how?!” But dang if seeing Yuuji’s smile again didn’t just melt him. “I kept it hidden.”

“You did, but Sukuna sensed it in you when your domains overlapped, and he showed me.”

Yuuji leaned forward and brought their lips together in an awkward kiss. It was brief, but for Megumi, it solidified how he felt. That yes, he really did love this man and finally! He got to kiss him!

“There was a time I thought Sukuna had a crush on you actually,” Yuuji chuckled. “But then of course, it turned out he just wanted to use you.”

“So... you’re okay with me liking you?” As he spoke, Megumi pulled his coat off and handed it to Yuuji to cover up.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Yuuji smiled and put on the coat. “But what do we do now? Technically I’m not alive, I’m a walking, talking curse.”

“Fuck,” Megumi sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I didn’t exactly think this through, just lost control.”

Yuuji placed a hand on his shoulder, “hey, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Megumi couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled Yuuji into a tight bear hug as renewed tears pooled in his eyes. “I don’t care what you are, I’m just happy to have you back.”

Yuuji returned the hug. “Me too.”

Suddenly, clapping echoed through the darkened room seconds before the light switch was flipped on, causing Megumi to flinch. Shit! They were caught so quickly!

“I had a feeling this would happen.”

It was Gojou’s voice. Aww crap!

Megumi moved Yuuji and placed himself between the two men. “Leave him alone!”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head Megumi Chan, I’m not gonna exorcise him. I followed you here, so if I’d wanted to stop you, I would have done so sooner.”

“You’re messing with me.” Megumi narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “It’s our job to dispatch curses. Why would you make an exception.”

“Yes, under the old ways, but as you know, those ways were destroyed by us. As long as a curse is not a problem, I don’t care if they exist.” Gojou cocked his head in an evil grin. “Yuuji is now for you, as what Rika is for Okkotsu. I didn’t exorcise Rika, did I?”

“No...”

“Exactly!” He clapped his hands together. “Having powerful special grades on our side is a benefit in my eyes,” Gojou moved his mask to reveal his own, “and these eyes know everything,” he winks before affixing the mask. “Besides, who am I to get in the way of love,” he shrugged.

Megumi rolled his eyes at that last jab, but Yuuji let out a sigh of relief. “Gojou sensei, do you know why I’m like this?” He motioned to his body. “Shouldn’t I be more like Rika? But I can think for myself and talk, and I feel... well, normal.”

“That’s a good question!” Gojou cackled and pointed at Yuuji. “I have no idea!”

“Ugh!” Megumi slaps his forehead. This man never changed.

“But,” Gojou grew serious in an instant, “I can guess there are three factors involved.” He held up one finger, “Number one! You, Yuuji are no ordinary human but created by a curse at birth.” Raising a second finger, “Number two! You and Sukuna were bonded at the instance of death, so you’ve fused with him.” Adding a third finger, “and lastly, number three! When one special grade sorcerer curses another former special grade sorcerer, that amount of curse energy wasn’t going to create a lower lever spirit. So, voila! You were made Yuuji!”

“But is it like I still have control of Sukuna or something?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Do you still sense him?”

Yuuji paused in thought before shaking his head no.

“It’s likely Sukuna’s soul was fully exorcised, and since Megumi was only thinking of you, it was only you that was brought back. This is just the form your cursed energy has taken. We’ll need to test what powers you’ve retained, but from what I’m sensing, they are on par with Sukuna’s residual energy.”

It’s Megumi who speaks up next. “So, is Yuuji allowed back at school?”

“I’ll allow it, provided your classmates don’t mind. Remember, while you can see him, he’s no longer alive, so normal humans won’t see him anymore. He is just a cursed spirit.”

Megumi and Yuuji looked at each other, then back to their teacher with Yuuji taking hold of Megumi’s hand. “I think they’d get mad if we didn’t return,” Yuuji smiled.

Gojou tipped two fingers as he turned to leave, “then I shall see you in class tomorrow. Try to keep the noise down in your room.” He teased with a cackle.

Megumi flushed red. “He’s so irritating.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit Gojou sensei’s one of the cool ones.”

“Yeah,” Megumi sighed, but smiled. “Guess we should head back to school too.”

Yuuji squeezed his new boyfriend’s hand and nodded. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when I walk in!”

“Just, no practical jokes like phasing through walls to scare them. We don’t need someone actually trying to exorcise you.”

“Oh, right! I’ll behave.” Without warning, Yuuji then swept Megumi into a bridal carry. “Let’s test my powers! I bet I’m faster than Gojou sensei now!”

“Wait! What are you doing?!”

Yuuji grinned down at Megumi with ruby red eyes glowing. “Trust me.” Cause I’ll kill anyone who dares to hurt you now...

#Itafushi #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #yuuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #fushidori #yuuji x megumi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen manga #jjk spoilers #Itafushi fan fic #Itafushi fan fiction #hurt/comfort #angst with happy ending #fushidori fan fic

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yourneighborhooddisaster · 4 years

Text

Ravenous

Touch Starved Patton! I haven’t actually written stuff like this before, and I guess it could be read shippy, but it can also be read completely platonic. I would say warnings, sympathetic janus and remus, but they’re blessings.

Warnings: touch starvation, angst, hurt/comfort (kinda), not everybody really gets along but that’s okay

Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!!! Reblogs are cherished!! Also I’m just really excited I was able to stick to a deadline!

Fic under the cut. Please ask to be tagged! I’d be honored. Also you are always able to be removed from the taglist if you read something you don’t like or is triggering!!! I won’t be offended!

@genderfluidmoma @emiisanxious (that’s what you meant right? if not sorry)

All of the sides had needs.

They weren’t people. They were fully aware that they were all a fraction of a person, and they all cared for Thomas very much. They didn’t envy being a person, especially through all the wild stuff that was going on in the world right now. Technically, the sides didn’t need to eat, or sleep, even though it was possible for them to do so, as long as it was imagination food or during the night when Thomas was already asleep. But they did have needs.

Everyone was fully aware of Roman’s needs. Stimuli. Some sort of creative fuel. Even watching a documentary with Logan and Thomas could help him if he was in a particularly bad block. That’s part of the reason he loved Disney so much, and Patton always made sure they had time to watch a cartoon before bed when Roman was feeling down.

Logan’s primary need was obvious, although he hated to admit that he needed things, insisting it was to help Thomas. It did help Thomas, but not as much as it helped Logan. Logan needed structure and rules. It made a lot of sense. So sometimes when Patton noticed Logan’s smiles becoming tight, or when Patton felt he might not be listening to him enough, he would grin and ask what was on the schedule for that day.

Virgil was under a lot of stress lately, and that was because, as much as a lot of social interaction could overwhelm him, Virgil needed positive interactions with Thomas’s friends. Patton suspected that the sides may also be in that category, but he didn’t quite know, so he didn’t want to assume. He would often bug Thomas to call or text Joan, knowing Virgil wasn’t the best at bringing his own issues up.

Janus was tricky. Patton’s first instinct would be that Janus needed Thomas to take care of himself, but they all needed that, and Janus hadn’t seemed to suffer more than the others when Thomas missed the callback. Patton didn’t know Janus too well, but he knew him enough to finally understand that he was a little like Logan. Janus needed to be listened to. So if Roman and Janus had fought and Janus was sulking, Patton would insist that Janus pick a movie to watch with him. (And if Roman slunk out to watch Hamilton with them, well, two birds with one stone, right?)

Remus should have been a difficult one, and Patton would never admit that he had known right away. But Remus was simple. Patton didn’t really understand Remus’s thought process, and he probably never would, at least not all the way. But Patton understood Roman’s, and he wasn’t oblivious, no matter how much he was portrayed that way. Remus needed attention. He needed time, he needed the sides, he needed Thomas, and most of all, he needed to talk. So when Patton was up for it (and even sometimes when he really wasn’t), he would invite Remus to bake with him, as it was something they both, surprisingly, enjoyed, and something they both, unsurprisingly, were terrible at.

All of the sides had needs.

Patton wished he didn’t.

His was simple. Predictable. Expected, even. But it was just… so embarrassing. Because Patton needed physical touch, and didn’t that sound clingy and awful. Of course he could try to play it off, and he did. He was just happy pappy Patton, soft cuddly Patton, just your Dad Patton trying to give you a hug, kiddo! He felt so guilty all the time. And it hurt even more now that he was trying not to repress his negative emotions, because when he did admit he was feeling sad, everyone treated him as if he was made of glass. He dreaded when they asked him if he wanted to be alone, because no, he absolutely did NOT. And he says yes anyway. He wants to be normal, so why wouldn’t he? He knew none of the other sides wanted - needed this. It was okay though. He could always get in at least a hug or a high five in a day.

Until now.

Patton slumped against his door. He hadn’t been touched all day. He was frighteningly cold, but he didn’t want to go get a blanket. He had lent all of his to Virgil after he had a panic attack, and he wasn’t going to ask for them back. He wasn’t heartless.

“Thanks Pat, but… could I please be alone for a while?” The words rang in his ears, nearly deafening, though their speaker was quiet and polite. And Virgil was being polite, he had phrased it in the kindest way possible. It was just something wrong with Patton. He shook his head, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. He put on his hoodie to help with the cold, but it didn’t help with the hunger clawing right below his skin. Logan was reading, Roman was editing a video with Thomas, Remus would probably just make him feel worse. And he didn’t want Janus to sense all the lies he’d been telling. The most accessible of the sides was Logan, but Logan would hardly appreciate the interruption, especially as Patton wouldn’t be able to explain exactly why he was interrupting.

He was going to have a long night.

>><<

Patton hummed softly as he flipped some pancakes. He had managed not to burn them this time, even though the shapes were not really circles. Pancakes were easy. At least, he was better at making pancakes than anything else.

Logan’s better at it though.

Patton shook away the thought. It made sense that Logan would be better at something as adult and precise as cooking. Baking was where Logan was in need of help. Measurements usually fluctuated more in baking. Though Patton wasn’t really good at that either. He was usually a disaster in the kitchen, probably because he represented Thomas’s inner child, which was why he wasn’t offended when Logan declined the offer of pancakes, instead going to the commons to help Thomas schedule the day. Well, maybe a little offended. But not much. Logan had been under stress lately too, as quarantine tended to blur all the days together. So Patton dug into his pancakes himself, covering up all potential mistakes by drowning it in cheap quality maple syrup.

“Ooh, did you make pancakes, Patty-cake?” Remus all but bounced into the room. Patton put on a wide beam and nodded. Remus was still wearing his pajama pants and was shirtless, though he was definitely a morning person, so it was likely he’d already been up for a few hours. “I want some!” Patton laughed at that, pointing at a plate right next to the stove.

“The hot ones are over there, and make sure to tell me if you want anymore. If we do end up making more though, you’re on egg duty.” Remus half pouted, even as he shoveled pancakes onto his plate.

“But I like it when you get the shells in. It makes it crunchy.” Patton huffed, pretending to be offended. “Oh come on Patton, you know I compli-meant it!” Patton stifled a giggle, though a little unsuccessfully.

“Oh, that was bad even for me…” Remus shrugged, utterly unashamed. A lock of hair fell into Patton’s face, and he instinctively brushed it away, not really noticing his sticky fingers making a shiny trail up his cheek.

But he noticed when his fingers were replaced by something else.

Patton froze, his face hotter than the pan on the stove. (He should turn that off, his brain registered dumbly, but he was too much in shock to care if the mindscape could burn down.) Remus was clearly satisfied, grossly swirling his sticky sweet spit in his mouth. Tears pricked at Patton’s eyes, and he knew he was being stupid. Remus was lewd and touchy with everyone. He wasn’t special, and Remus certainly didn’t need this like he did. Remus just loved to be loud and obnoxious and throw everyone off.

Then why’d it feel so intimate and wonderful?

Why would he want such a gross touch?

“What’s got you so nervous Mr. Moral Compass?” Remus was watching him with a self satisfied smirk. “Did I do something to upset you?” That should have been reassuring, that Remus was happy and just his normal self. If everyone was happy, Patton would be happy, because he had no reason to be sad. No reason at all…

Patton broke out into loud ugly sobs. Crumpling to the floor, he was vaguely aware of Remus panicking, and no, he really didn’t want to burden him, and it just became worse when more people ran into the room. He couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears, and blurry tears distorted his vision and fogged up his glasses, which were slowly sliding off his nose. But then two hands gently grabbed his wrists, and they didn’t let go, and his wrists were burning but all he could think was more, more, more. And then a hand landed on his shoulder, but it was much too hesitant. Another hand over his heart, and that seemed to do it ever so slowly. The tears stopped and his breathing slowed.

But he may have preferred the rush of blood in his ears to the stressed silence. He made a move to wipe at his eyes only to find his hands still restrained. A blur of yellow - Janus - removed his glasses, cleaned them, and wiped the excess tears away before placing them gently back on his face. He was surrounded by faces, but only Logan and Virgil were touching him, and he felt so, so clingy, because this definitely wasn’t enough even though he should be grateful they were even still touching him. Thomas looked terrified. Patton dropped his head in shame and guilt.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Roman replied quickly, already knowing what Patton was about to say. “You have nothing to apologize for. My brother, on the other hand-” “No!” Remus was still looking panicked on the sidelines, and what Roman would’ve said next would have everything even worse. “It’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything.” Patton squirmed, his whole body on fire. Virgil made a move to retract his hand from Patton’s chest. And Patton. WHIMPERED, SO EMBARRASSINGLY LOUD. Virgil froze. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, of course you guys don’t have to touch me if you don’t want-”

“Patton.” Janus spoke calmly and slowly, as if he was trying to understand something. “So the problem is you want people to touch you, and you aren’t getting that attention you need, correct?” Patton nodded, biting his lip bloody so he wouldn’t make such a weak, embarrassing little noise again. All heads swiveled towards Janus, but he simply, albeit hesitantly, took off his gloves and cape and moved closer. Virgil and Roman glared defiantly at him, but one look from Patton and they stepped aside, and Logan gently released his hands, leaving Patton nearly about to cry again about the loss of contact. “I know this normally would be a little… inappropriate, considering our only newfound truce, but…” Janus spread his arms open wide. It was preposterous. Why would Patton hug Janus, even with their agreements? A ridiculous notion. (Now he was starting to sound like Logan.)

Patton jumped into the other’s arms.

He was suffocating, choking on air and new tears but he buried his head into the all encompassing warmth around him. Six arms squeezed him so tight and so close he felt like he was in a vacuum, but he didn’t mind at all. After a few minutes it started to get to be too much, but Patton didn’t want to ever let go at the same time, and he was just so confused. Janus seemed to sense this and he broke away. His hands were still holding Patton’s forearms.

“Hey, you’re not going to feel that bad ever again, okay? We won’t let that happen,” Janus murmured soothingly, and Patton shakily nodded because he didn’t even care if it was all a lie because it was so pretty and it felt so good. “Do you want to hear about what that was or would you rather just come watch a movie?”

“You know?” Janus nodded at Remus.

“Wait, how come you know and I don’t?” Logan was rather flustered and panicked looking. They all were, Patton realized.

“It’s touch starvation. Patton’s been lying to himself about it for a long time. He has a crucial need for physical touch.” Virgil inhaled sharply, and Roman glanced over Patton, but refused to quite meet his eyes. Logan gasped.

“I’m so sorry, Patton.” Patton blinked at the sudden and quick apology from Logan, who always struggled with admitting he was in the wrong. “I didn’t realize that by limiting my physical affection towards you I was harming you in any way. Can I… can I do anything to fix my behavior?” Patton smiled sadly.

“It’s okay Lo, I know you guys don’t really need it like I do. We’re sides, not people. You wouldn’t have assumed I was affected by things like that.”

“What - what did I do?” Remus asked tentatively. “I mean, I know I was being gross and all, but I touched you. I’m a very touchy person. So what happened to make you all snotty?” He immediately winced at his own wording, but Patton knew this was rather gentle for him.

“I just… I guess I couldn’t handle that you were only doing it to get a rise out of me… And it’s kinda started to burn when I get touched because I feel so cold the rest of the time.”

“Overstimulation,” Logan supplied helpfully. Patton nodded, and their conversation lapsed into silence. Then Thomas walked towards Patton, Janus helping him to his feet and guiding him into Thomas’s arms. He was exhausted but even the much looser two armed hug sent his heart and skin and mind spiraling into fireworks. They settled onto the couch.

“We got you, okay Pat? We’ll be more careful from now on.”

And Virgil would just have to trust that Patton understood, because before he replied, Thomas and Patton had fallen fast asleep.

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