#Bc I would’ve felt exactly the same way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caitlinbueckers · 18 days

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take care.

caitlin clark x reader type beat PART 2!!!!!!!!

6.2k (what the fuck)

ok. Listen!!!!!! This is long time coming and also is a disgusting amount of words and dialogue and like weird subtextual angst masked with smut honestly it’s pure delusion on a page also ending only slightly abrupt bc it was unfathomably long sorry

wasn’t gonna make the sequel so in depth like ??? How’d this one shot turn into a fic 😐 no Clue but all i know is that insecure sort of self deprecative caitlin clark with this soft dominance of a reader combined with two bitches who won’t admit their feelings is my crack!!!! let me know if a part 3 is even needed or if yall even care teehee

no beta simply just vibes

ANYWAYYZZZZZ love u guys sorry that i suck!!!

two weeks.

it had been two weeks since you’d texted that number with your name, a simple contact, and she’d liked the message, and that was it.

it wasn’t like things immediately changed— you still, somehow, made your flight despite the throbbing headache that reverberated in your skull, and you still were able to make sure you didn’t leave a toothbrush or a stray apple watch charger in the hotel room but, miraculously, you find a way to not mention a single thing about your one night stand until you touch down at home; manchester, connecticut.

you tell your friends all about it— probably missing some implied understanding about nda’s— and pretend like it isn’t that big of a deal that one of the biggest basketball players for women’s college wasn’t knuckles deep inside of you only the night before.

but it’s a big deal. and you know it is.

like her breath, fierce and rampant with each spellbinding curl of her fingers, wasn’t startlingly still replaying in your mind, her mouth soaking in each warm, huff of air that you expelled in the form of a moan. like she hadn’t watched as she fucked you, dark eyes somehow impossibly darker as her biceps flexed, the line of thick, corded veins that traveled her muscular arms somehow jumping with each pump of her fingers inside of you.

that the same, somehow blushing girl that stood in the elevator had regarded you like something to be challenged, like something she could fight for. something she could win.

you didn’t forget a single thing. not in the way she leaned down over you as her fingers quickened their pace, the force of it eliciting grunts from caitlin’s mouth as she tore you apart, piece by piece, licking the remains as her teeth grazed over a nipple, the sensitive jut of your collarbone.

“so pretty,” she’d murmured against your skin, almost absently, like she didn’t even realize she’d said it. “you like that?” obviously, it went without saying that you did (very much), but really, you’d learned that she wanted to hear you say it. it was in the same way that - as she’d recounted to you drunkenly in a hotel bar that night - she needed to hear the audience cheer. that the fans hollering and shouting was when she felt like she was on fire. it was the external validation that urged her forth, amped her up, kept her alight.

somehow, you could see exactly how it applied to her then, her eyes quick to scan over your face— your lips, to kiss them, before she’d ask again, urgently, “you like how i fuck you? huh? tell me.”

you’d nodded furiously, words tumbling past your trembling lips, “y-es, fuck, yes—“ god, it would’ve been impossible to pull more than a few words from you with how wrought you are, body unrelentingly tense, shaking and weak until she’d coaxed another orgasm out of you, her name sounding broken on your tongue as her fingers slow, the unrelenting grind from the heel of her hand finally relaxing to ride you through it.

she was unforgivingly good with her fucking hands, you’d come to realize.

and yet, beyond all of that, much to your friends dismay, you don’t call her.

no, in fact, you mute her name on twitter and block the IOWA womens basketball page because it becomes suddenly like a frenzy. she’s everywhere, more than usual, like some sick sign from the universe and as much as it seems almost the complete opposite of how you really feel, you decide that you can never see her again.

it’s not like the sex wasn’t phenomenal, or that when it’s late and your hand sneaks into your pants, your imagination doesn’t always seems to conjure up tall, pretty girls with brown hair and green eyes, or that she didn’t completely captivate you from the moment she’d looked at you, dumbfounded and sheepish in an elevator with a blush staining her cheeks.

it wasn’t that. in fact, it was the complete opposite.

it was because the moment you’d seen a picture of her online after the fact, looking tougher than you knew she was, you’d realized that the last place you’d seen her was from between your legs, and it felt like a fucking soul crush.

because she was beautiful, and smiling, and playing up that celebrity, all-star mentality that you knew she could back up, but that you realized wasn’t her in the slightest. because now, you knew her— sort of— and saw her in ways that nobody else had— that you knew of. more so, that she’d learned your body in the span of a night and then just left, and somehow that just wasn’t fucking fair.

there was a shroud of mystery that surrounded her, even if she belonged to the world, to her supposed boyfriend, to everyone, really— way more than she ever belonged to you, even if just for a night.

so you go on about your life, and you pretend you don’t notice the draft is coming, or that soon, the already well known athlete was gonna be world renowned, taking her biggest leap to play professional, and you’d be nothing to her, nothing but the girl she’d screwed in a hotel room when she’d gotten too drunk after the final four.

and sure, you find solace in it. but there’s also this lingering, nagging feeling of being unfinished, like there’s still more. there has to be more.

so, no, you don’t call her.

but, somehow, you find last-minute tickets for the draft— which, in the grand scheme of things isn’t completely selfish. the moment you’d seen nika muhl and aaliyah edwards up for the league, you’d known that you were going to try for tickets. you just, probably, maybe, weren’t actually expecting to hookup with the projected top number one draft pick, either.

but you did, so, you buy them anyway.

you let your friends tease you for picking a dress that’s sorta slutty and for spending more time than you should doing your makeup at whatever hotel you picked in boston, only a few blocks from the draft.

all in all, it goes exactly how you expect. caitlin gets number one draft, which only slightly makes you antsy in your seat, thinking about the fact that she doesn’t know you’re there, that she doesn’t know you saw her win big and that she possibly could’ve been thinking about anyone fucking else. your favorites, nika muhl and aaliyah edwards, get teams that you’re more than happy to celebrate, and watch paige bueckers and azzi fudd get shoutout after shoutout. it’s good, it’s fun— but fuck it.

you think you miss her. maybe just her fingers, or her mouth, but you realize in a weird swell of recognition as the guests are ushered out, your head spinning back every few moments to see if you can catch a glimpse of her, that you do.

you miss the cait you’d met— you just didn’t know the one that sat in the room now.

then, it’s all sorta funny, in a way, considering the situation you find yourself in once everyone begins to disperse, limos and SUV’s pulled up and parked outside of the venue, crowds of fans standing around the barricades to sit for their favorite athletes to pile out of the doors, to go to some super elite, exclusive party that you knew you had no place at.

you don’t expect any special treatment, and you don’t expect a text or a call— which is good, because they don’t come.

no, actually, they don’t come until later.

later, after you’d spent the rest of the night in a nearby bar with a couple of girls you’d met leaving the draft. they’re funny and they’re nice, gushing about the picks, talking miles a minute about all their favorites and making you pretend that the tequila doesn’t burn just a tiny bit more when they mention caitlin’s name.

it doesn’t come until you’re showered, dressed in sweats and pleasantly drunk, scrolling through the shitty channels when your phone buzzes once, then twice, then three times and it almost makes you click the lock button, shove it over in assumption of your friends bothering you about an unsuccessful night to woo a pro athlete— but then it happens again.

you can’t really decipher what makes you look at the random assortment of numbers and it suddenly click. maybe it was because you’d spent the past few weeks in a complete back and forth, scanning over a crumpled napkin with the name ‘cait’ and these specific numbers beside it.

you know who it is, and despite yourself, your heart catches in your throat.

“hello?”

“you made it.” her voice is deeper than you remember, and it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn almost immediately. fuck.

“huh?” you play dumb, mostly because it’s more embarassing to admit that you’d came all this way for this, for the slim possibility that she’d fucking notice.

“tonight, i mean. you- i didn’t know— i didn’t know you were coming.” you stay silent, because what else is there to say? had she seen you?

but she continues, “you should’ve told me.” and then, “i, uh— i would’ve liked to see you.”

she’s pathetic, and so are you. a hand comes up to shove back your hair from your face, breath increasing only slightly. “i have a hotel, like, smack in the middle of boston if you’re… like, if this is an offer.”

now, she’s silent. there’s a shuffle on the other end, a murmur of a voice that you don’t recognize, before she’s back, her voice closer, softer. “yeah. yeah, i’d, uh, i’d like that.”

you open your mouth to say something, probably alcohol fueled and embarassed, but she’s speaking now, a bit quicker, “just text me, yeah?”

then the phone clicks, and for half a second, you stare at the home screen as if this couldn’t possibly be fucking real.

but it is, miraculously, and god, it makes you kind of fucking horny to think that she’s willing to see you at half past three in the morning, so your fingers fly over the keyboard in record time— a pin being dropped through imessage with a confirmed ping.

it’s fucking go time after that.

you find the lacy, practically nonexistent underwear you’d brought, forgo a bra entirely, and try to find something a little less boring than your sweatsuit, before you realize with a sickening realization that the revealing dress you’d worn for the draft was the outfit you’d expected to see her in, and as much as you cared, you kinda fucking didn’t— she’d been inside of you, by now. clothing didn’t seem as pressingly urgent as it would otherwise.

it’s only about twenty minutes before she texts you, a simple ‘here’. you send a brief message, just the number of your hotel room, and pretend like your heart doesn’t practically pound out of your chest for each passing moment, eyes flickering from the door, to the window outside, the city bustling even at a time like this.

she knocks only twice, and it startles you enough that it takes your breath away.

the moment the door swings open, it’s like a wave of calm washes over you, a weird sense of solace that you hadn’t realized she could offer, mostly due to the fact that before you stood the caitlin you’d remembered from all those weeks ago, after final four. not the exquisitely dressed, superstar you’d seen earlier that night, in shades and clothing that you could never afford with an attitude you didn’t recognize.

instead, she stands before you at her startling height, in sneakers, sweats and a windbreaker, a hood over her head and her hands tucked into her pockets. once again, looking impossibly small for someone of her stature and it takes all that’s within you to not kiss her right there.

“you got here quick.” you mention, still only slightly breathless as she offers a smile that resembles more of a smirk than anything else.

“i was scared you’d fall asleep,” and it sounds as sheepish as it makes you feel.

you step back, let her walk in and inhabit the space, only slightly making your palms sweat to have her here, in front of you again.

you decide to take the initiative to plop onto the bed, looking up at her as you toy with a stray string from your hoodie, “i wasn’t gonna fall asleep,” you retort, looking up at her, catching a glance that you don’t break, “congrats on top draft pick.”

now, she’s blushing, shaking her head and pursing her lips, “still feels unreal, dude.” she murmurs, looking down at her feet before slowly, her movements unsure, she sinks onto the bed next to you. “you’re unreal.” you say quietly, smirking at her, because you know how she’d cringe at it, scrunches her face before shaking her head. “god, not by a long shot.”

you open your mouth to say something else, maybe tease her about it, but she clears her throat quietly, “but i don’t, uh- wanna talk about that right now?” she offers a mirthless laugh, “is that stupid?”

she turns to look at you, and it happens to only be a couple centimeters from your face once you look up, shake your head “then we don’t have to.” you agree quietly, and it’s impossible to miss the way her eyes flicker down at your lips, back up to your face, and it’s equally as impossible to ignore the flip you get in your stomach before you surge forward to kiss her.

she kisses the same, tastes like what you remember, if not marked by whatever cocktails she must’ve had, whatever liquor still sat on your own breath, and it washes over you greedily that you do fucking want her— more than whatever you tried to convince yourself of during the past two weeks, more than what you’d downplayed to your friends.

“been thinking about you,” it comes out rushed, murmured against caitlin’s lips, shakily from your own mouth as she lets out a slow, wanton breath. you turn to crawl up on your knees, swinging over her hips to push her back against the bed.

she makes a noise like it stems from disbelief, almost like denial, but doesn’t pull away, not even once as her hands, fingers long and palms wide, spread beneath your sweatshirt, span across the expanse of your back and grasp.

“i did,” you insist between breathless kisses, foreheads pressed together hard as her hand races up the front now, over your stomach, palm your breasts and elicit a pitchy gasp from the immediate contact of her cold hands to your sensitive nipples, “every fucking day.”

“shut up,” she denies it again, which only slightly irks you because as cliche as it felt to say during a makeout, it’s not like you would lie about how much you’ve craved this— or more specifically, her.

you try to really expand on the thought, but it becomes almost impossible when her lips attach to your jaw, suckling until her teeth are teasing the sensitive, thin skin beneath your ear, and you make a noise too embarrassing to recount before you can gather your words. “…missed you.”

caitlin makes a noise in her own throat, something between a growl and a groan as she arches her hips up slightly to press against you, before she shakes her head, pulling back only to look up at you from your position on her lap with this sick, almost torturous gaze. her eyes are lidded and feverbright, cheeks pink, and lips glossy, kiss-bitten.

“you shouldn’t think about me.” it comes out quick with her breath, her thumbs still slow in the circles they rubbed around your nipples, making your head arch back with a whimper before you swallow hard, her words almost too quiet to hear, “not worth it to think about.”

the admission surprises you, “fuck off, clark.” you snort, the words fall lazily out of your mouth, “so humble, huh?”

she gets hot at that, and you can tell from the way her face is pressed into your neck, the way a heat radiates from her cheeks right at that moment that makes your stomach swirl, your own hands coming up to tangle into her hair.

“…i‘m serious.” she insists, still mouthing against the same area of skin that you knew would be bruised, and pretend like her totally incognito, self deprecative words weren’t somewhat confusing and worrying you.

she was fucking perfect, didn’t she realize that? how could she not when practically everyone else in the world thought the same? maybe you were being dramatic or maybe you were just horny, but it felt achingly real in the moment that she knew that, even if she wouldn't listen, even if you'd have to show her instead.

“cait, i’m fucking serious.” you counter now, using the hands in her hair to tug, exploring the reaction that it elicits, which is something that apparently caitlin enjoys by the soft whine that jumps from her throat, the way her breath quickens, the wide eyed look she gives you.

it makes your head spin, your thighs clench involuntarily. she seems so fucking innocent, and yet, all knowing at the same time.

“is that… bad?” you continue, your own head ducking to latch your lips against her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath your teeth, “that i… touched myself and thought of you?” maybe it was the cocktails or the fact that this could be the last fucking time you see her, but it’s like word vomit— every thought and emotion that comes to you is spoken without hesitation, and apart of you wonders where you’d gotten such newfound bravery.

caitlin must be wondering too.

“not bad,” it comes out of her weak, weaker than she is right now, melting under your mouth and the tight grasp you have on her dark hair, the way each strand twines around your fingers to where even the most minuscule move of your fingers elicit a huff or a sigh, “it’s… fucking hot, what the fuck.”

it fuels you, in some way, to hear her validation. for some reason, you don’t try to hold off much longer— your own sweatshirt is being pulled off in record time, tangled in your arms momentarily and flung across the room as you go to reach for hers, “off?” you hum in the midst of the movement, to which she nods, quickly, obedient and yet, so unruly.

she was a dichotomy of everything she stood for. a shy girl pretending to be a superstar, and yet, even in moments like this, quiet and intimate, it felt like a superstar pretending to be shy. you knew just how easily she could unload, dominate the situation— pin you down by your wrists and eat you out within an inch of your life, because she had.

but now, she’s relenting, and it makes something within you burn, strengthening wildly to try and tame that beast that you knew sat fervent beneath her skin, to try and prove that caitlin didn’t always have to be caitlin clark, she could just be this.

just a pretty girl you wanted to fuck.

besides, maybe you were making up for lost time, returning favors you’d been too drunk and blissed out to give the first time around when she’d finished you off with fucking ease.

as soon as she’s exposed, her black sports bra yanked off with little effort to reveal her breasts beneath, pale and dotted with freckles, a red line from the band of it standing starkly against it, you find your mouth lowering to suckle on a spot near her nipple, teasing against the bud and licking gently at the skin until you hear her breath increase, breaking only slightly into a whine that makes you swallow hard.

you pull away, just to look at her— dark eyebrows furrowed, focused in a concentration that you can only discern as someone fighting for the need to control, to dictate, to display the same use of her strategic authority that she’s used time and time again on the court.

you decide in that moment, that you won’t let her.

“let me take care of you?” it comes out softer than you mean it to, and you can see the trust building within her, slow to register as safe— and you don’t blame her.

you both are practically strangers, knowing nothing of each other than drunken conversation that had turned too deep, nothing but the sound the other made when they came, the faces they made. it was intimately unfamiliar, and perhaps that’s where caitlin had found the solace.

maybe she knew that at this point in her career she wouldn’t have normalcy. it was practically impossible for any person knowledgeable in sports to not know her, or even just of her. to a further degree, even most, with the exception of being well versed in women’s sports, had at least heard of her, and that was simply a piece of herself that had been taken, one she’d never be able to retrieve.

but this, this might be the one standing, single piece of lucidity and realness that was hers— locked away in a hotel room in a city unfamiliar to the both of you, and it’s enough.

it’s enough for now.

“you wouldn’t even text me back.” she counters, but it’s clear in her tone, regardless of how ragged, that it’s to prod at you, and it works.

“shut up.” you murmur as you press your hands to her shoulders, push her back against the bed to straddle her fully as you brush your thumb over her abused nipple, reddened and too easy to bruise. she moans when you press on it, and it elicits a smirk to your face that’s impossible to hide. “you’re here now, aren’t you?”

for some reason, it causes a sad sort of smirk to her face that’s impossible to miss, regardless of how quickly she covers it with an exhale of want, one that you know isn’t feigned, “where else would i be?”

there’s a million answers to that. press, interviews, sleeping, with her fucking boyfriend, but you settle for a small smile, “good point.”

you hope it centers her a little when the bruising press of your fingers translate into something gentler, more of a caress against her chest that you trail up to her face, and it almost twists something inside of you to see the way her face relaxes, leans against it as if it was some type of treatment or medicine to some ailment you weren’t aware of.

you go to pull away, to begin working at the ties on her sweatpants to unwravel her even more, lost in the softness of the moment and yet still blinded by the hazy lust until she speaks, quiet and barely there.

“did you really think about me?”

it stuns you for half a second, because the simple confession hadn’t registered to you as something she’d recall, something she’d look to expand upon.

but you’d always been honest, brutally so.

“yeah,” you say it as if it was obvious, when truly it wasn’t, and more so, probably wasn’t reciprocated, “i had fun,” a gross understatement, a weak replacement for all that you really wanted to say. then, if not a bit more revealing of your inner voice, “didn’t you?”

caitlin makes a noise that resembles a huff, but it’s not impatient, it’s honest. you wonder how often she gets to do that. “you know i did.” it comes out like an admission of guilt, under her breath, yet her eyes are unrelenting as they are sincere and it makes your eyebrows lift.

it makes your breath halt slightly, “is… not having fun in your contract or something?” you lace it with a quiet chuckle, mostly because you don’t want to make it too deep, too revealing to ask, but part of you thinks it’s expanded beyond that already, had been since she'd called you at three in the morning, just to say that she'd seen you, that she wanted to see you again.

her hands rise from her sides to rest against your thighs, and the touch is welcome, one that you relax into before she manages a half smile, “might as well be.”

but then, you see that surge of confidence again, something in her eyes glimmering as she squeezes at the skin of your thighs, hard, but your eyes remain fixed, even as hers drop, almost shy in her show of strength. “it’s why… i’ve thought about you like, everyday since... final four?”

that certainly makes your breath halt, invoking a reaction in your stomach and between your legs that you choose to ignore as you swallow, thumb still slow in its brush against her cheek.

“yeah?” it comes out of you rough, and she grants you with a nod as a response, then, after only a moment, she whispers, an echo to your words from before. “so... is it bad that i missed you too?”

“god, shut up.” you repeat again, as if somehow that was a valid response to being told such a thing by a girl you’d only had met twice, by a girl you knew nothing about.

you wanna ask her a million questions, know anything and everything: ask her if she’s actually into girls, if she’s actually into her boyfriend. mainly, if she’s actually into this pedestal that she’d been thrust into, if the fame was too much, maybe if it was never enough.

but you settle for shutting her up for now, because you can see the way her chest rises and falls rapidly, can hear the strain that it took to admit, and you realize, selflessly, that maybe you won’t let yourself ask for more.

not now, anyway.

instead, you lean up, uncharacteristically tender as you slide your lips against hers, feels the way she relents against you, slow and subservient.

“can i show you how bad i missed you?” your fingers tease the edge of her sweatpants, and she lets out a creaking groan, head tilting back and eyes closing as if in exasperation, before she nods. “please.”

you get right to work.

it takes only a little bit of adjustment to get her pants off of her long legs, to reveal the simple pair of black boy shorts that she wore, before you can finally tease a finger against the soaked fabric, reveling in the wetness that you knew matched your own.

her hips jump up, caged in only by your legs as you arch your middle finger, riding the knuckle against her heat, watching the way her face twists only slightly, lips parted in silent noises that you wish you could beckon out of her.

it is fun, you realize in the back of your mind, to pull her apart like this. without the inebriation clouding your mind from the last time, you feel almost startlingly cognizant of your own movements, of her reactions.

when you finally pump your middle finger into her, you notice the way her stomach and abs flex involuntarily, the way her voice pitches up and almost keens in her throat, catching with every stuttered inhale.

when you lean down to press your lips against the slickness of her cunt, press the pad of your tongue to her clit, she says your name— loud. it’s something mixed between a whine and a plead, long, dexterous fingers tangling into your hair and holding on tight.

you devour her, tongue slow to slide against her slick folds, to feel the surge of wetness spill out around your fingers, mixed with your own saliva. you drink her in like she’s a potion, or an elixir, something that you swear you can find and savor if you just go deeper, harder.

it isn’t until you feel her thighs tense, clamping around your head as she lets out a sound close to a gasping breath, marked with a moan that makes your head spin— she sounds so fucking desperate, and you’re bound and determined to give her exactly what she wants. what she deserves, really.

she comes on your fingers, in your mouth, and you relish every bit of it, quick to clean up the excess with fervor. she’s sensitive still, her breath huffing out whenever you breach too close to her clit, but you’re gentle. that’s what this was all about, right?

it’s quiet after the storm, your wrist sore and mouth wet as you sit up a bit, eyes careful to observe how hard her chest rises and falls. the way her hair, having fallen from its loose bun, sat in messy waves around her face, nothing like the impeccably straightened strands you’d seen at the draft, and it sort of makes you smile in an off handed way that you can’t explain, especially not when she opens her eyes finally to look at you.

“quit.” she says, and there’s a smile, tired and breathless, teasing at her own mouth as the hand that had fisted your tangled locks finally released, dragging down the side of your head to push your chin away lightly,

you can’t help but snicker, raising a brow, “what?” she rolls her eyes, and you repeat yourself, this time with a snort, “sorry, you’re just— you just look pretty like this.”

it’s hard to pretend that something inside of you doesn’t wince when her smile drops slightly, and you pretend like it isn’t uncommon to compliment the stranger you just ate out with such sincerity and honesty.

she’s slow when she says it, “...you always look pretty.” and it sounds wistful, murmured in a way that you can’t help but flush a bit at, as you roll your eyes now as if to return the favor, “you’ve only seen me twice, drunk, in sweats.”

but for some reason, that makes her smile return and for half a second, you let yourself pretend.

that maybe, this random series of hookups between you two weren’t fueled by some weird attraction slash escapism slash secret infidelity that had to be shared between you, or tucked away from the world. for half a second, she wasn’t caitlin clark, women’s basketball superstar, future member of the indiana fever.

she was cait, a girl you’d met at a bar that you’d hooked up with who just happened to see you again, and maybe, if you were a little dumber, and maybe a bit drunker, you’d admit to yourself that there’s a part of you that likes her, and each time you’d thought about her in the past few weeks, it had become achingly apparent.

but, you’re smarter than that, and definitely not drunk enough, so you pretend that her next words don’t make your heart skip multiple beats, as if it doesn’t cause a flutter in your chest.

“still,” she scoffs, and she’s sitting up a little, her hand having laid lazily against her stomach, reaches over to grasp your wrist, almost absently, “plus, i saw you earlier tonight, in that dress?”

it shouldn’t make you almost stunned into silence, but it fucking does.

“sorry— not to like, be weird and say i was looking for you but, i dunno, i just— i remember you saying something about UCONN, so i just assumed you'd be ther—“

you’re kissing her before even you can register what she’s saying, or why she says it all in this shy, almost sheepish tone that fills you with a flood of endorphins, butterflies being set alight inside of you.

“god, you’re so…” you’re not sure where you’re going with it, but you can’t help the way your hand comes up to hold the side of her face, dip your thumb against her bottom lip as if to make her taste herself, all as your eyes watched, lidded and fixed.

then, you exhale, only a whisper, “i’m gonna get you in trouble.” you manage to say, despite the very obvious fact that watching her suck on your finger is doing unspeakable things to you, before you drag the wet digit out, her bottom lip pulling only slightly.

“with who?” she says it almost as if you both know the answer, both thinking about the multitude of bigger names and bigger people who had long since been the determinant in caitlin’s career— at least from the little that you knew— and it lapses you both in a measured silence.

until she speaks, and it’s quiet, and sincere. “you’re just like… the only thing in my life right now that has nothing to do with basketball.”

it's a compliment, wrapped up in something a lot more sad, a lot more sincere. it shouldn’t make you want to hug her, but it does, so, you do.

your arms twine around her neck slowly, your face lowering to bury against her neck, just beneath her chin, and you can feel her chest vibrate slightly with a chuckle or a laugh, before her arms are around you, squeezing you tight, “don’t go all sappy on me, dude.” she murmurs, but it’s present in the way she doesn’t pull from it, or really, the way she fucking clutches onto you, almost desperately, that you pretend once again that this doesn’t mean anything. that this is traditional, hookup behavior, and that once she leaves this hotel room, everything will shift right back into place.

a place where caitlin clark gets to be caitlin clark and you get to be you, and there’s no overlap.

except, that doesn’t happen.

no, instead, once you pull away from the hug she kisses you again, hungrier this time, her hands sliding from your back to your hips so she can hook fingers in the edge of your panties, urging you to sit up on your knees so she can pull them down.

instead, she lets you ride her thigh— both hands firm and strong, her own biceps lfexing to keep you glued to her thick, muscle corded thigh, your cunt unforgivably wet as she dragged your hips down, over and over.

your head tips forward to press to her forehead, and she kisses you through each desperate cry that escapes your lips, the friction and slide becoming wetter, slicker by the moment, drawing these high pitched noises from your throat that you know caitlin is drinking in, all while she murmurs to you in this soft little voice, “show me good it feels, lemme hear you.”

in the end, you both pass out there, somewhat in a laying position as caitlin lays on her back, arms loosely wrapped around you, who’s laying stomach down atop of her, a thigh lazily hiked up to hang against her hip, your face pressed into her neck.

it’s fucking bizarre when you think about it.

how you both had talked more than you ever had before, and when you look back on it in the morning, nothing but a ghostly reminder of her presence by the sheets that lay strewn about, the undeniable smell of sex and sweat that still hung in the air, you pretend like you don’t realize just how little you still knew about her, and just how much that you wished you knew.

you also pretend like you don’t miss her, or that when you’re gathering your clothes to check out, a soreness in your body unlike one you’ve really ever felt, you’re practically stunned to see her faded, gray, IOWA shirt, thrown lazily over the desk chair that makes you wonder just how accidental it was for her to leave it.

you wear it anyway,

it isn’t until you make it back to connecticut, making up some excuse for your friends as to how you hadn’t been able to meet up with caitlin, how she’d been too busy anyway and you’d spent the night drinking at a bar, that maybe, just maybe, there was a part of you that wanted to keep her protected, confidential.

maybe it was the post-sex fueled lust that wanted you to keep it close to your chest, a dirty secret only for you to enjoy, or maybe it came from somewhere softer, somewhere that remembered how caitlin had such little privacy, that it almost hits you like a pang just how much you wanted her to still have that, even if it was at the expense of not seeing your friends faces when you told them that you guys had hooked up, again. even if she'd never know that you didn't say a word.

fuck it. it’s the least you could do.

you try not to think about her for days really, not until you’re doing laundry and come across the grey t-shirt, deciding only then that you’d pull up your goddamn bootstraps and finally send a message.

it’s cheeky, the wrinkled t-shirt thrown on over your underwear, leaving your thighs on display and the peek of a hip that you know is intentional before you snap a picture, sending it with little hesitation, and subsequently throwing your phone afterwards at the bed.

“you left something”

cc loved your message, “you left something”

“i know”

“guess i’ll have to come get it back”

it’s stupid, you know it is, but it makes you smile, typing with an urgency only known when texting back the pretty girl you like, before you send it, bottom lip teased between your teeth.

“how close are you to connecticut?”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut #wcbb x reader #guys is this gonna become a series #im scared #caitlin clark

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saetoru · 5 months

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this blog is now archived !! find my MASTERLIST here !!

hi guys, and here’s a long overdue post that i wanted to take the time to make after collecting as many screenshots as i can for a lot of rumors that i think need to be addressed. before i do that, i wanted to apologize to all of my mutuals who ended up wrongfully harassed in their inboxes for simply knowing me—the irony of this issue being about bullying all the while people on this app have been simultaneously being genuinely awful to other writers who have zero involvement has been ridiculous.

i would’ve made this post sooner, but december was very busy—as you all know, i’ve been working with two separate companies for my capstone projects, and i had final presentations with boards to worry about. and then a cruise which was fun, but i was offline. now that i’ve finally had time to enjoy my break and collect my thoughts, i’d like to voice my own side to the discourse i’m sure you’ve all seen posted by @/garoujo, who is now @/gojoath.

first and foremost, i’ve been on tumblr for almost 4 years now, and while i may not have the brightest moments on here (no one will be spot-free in that amount of time), i’d like to think that if i actually went out of my way to vicious or bully people, this would’ve come to people’s attention a lot sooner. i’ve had a relatively large following across all 6 of my blogs in my time here, and while i don’t like to get into the metrics of my blogs, the reason i point this out is because i have willingly started my blog over 6 times. 3 of these were sfw blogs under my nickname tee, another 2 of which were my previous nsfw blogs under a different alias, and saetoru which is the current one, where i finally decided to combine my sfw and nsfw writing into one space. i just wanted to bring that up because i had quite a habit of leaving and restarting blogs before this one, and had i been obsessed with outperforming other writers in terms of follower counts, i would not have left the previous ones as often as i did.

that being said, i’ll also go through a timeline of events and how they’ve snowballed into an issue that is not as one-sided as most of you might think. i’ve been mutuals with emmie since my first blog, and i’d been mutuals with her through most of her blogs as well. we’ve never really had issues until her last blog @/garoujo, which she’d started after deactivating @/atsymu due to discourse regarding racism accusations. the reason why we had a falling out was because i felt that there were a series of odd coincidences that felt slightly purposeful, but i was still questioning whether or not i was looking too deeply into it to actually point any of it out.

admittedly, when i saw her first set of banners, i felt our layouts were a slight bit similar, but i really didn’t mind too much because i had been planning to change my banners anyway because i was bored of them. so i took that as an opportunity to do so. it just so happened that within a day or two of every time i changed my banners, hers would be changed too—i never said i owned the color gray, and i even fully acknowledge that the last two sets of banners, at first glance, wouldn’t be a red flag. because, like i said, i was more uncomfortable with the pattern of coincidences than the actual layouts. then i switched to my instagram theme, and not long after, i noticed her add instagram story visuals to her navi. again, no one ever said instagram was my original idea, and that no one else could use it, but it was an unsettling feeling having the same moot continuously make changes around the same time as you, and changes that are different enough that you can’t exactly point out an issue, but slightly similar enough that you can’t exactly ignore the slight oddness.

coincidentally, the same day, another blog (who i will not name bc they’re not very active anymore and are also not very relevant to this story) made the same theme as me and i was a bit peeved because this same blog is someone who has copied a few other things from me and a handful of other moots, so i made a subpost on my moots-only personal blog at the time. keep in mind, i made this post fully aware that emmie was on this blog because i didn’t intend for that post to seem like it was about her. but she reached out to me, and i explained to her the situation, and i even provided the relevant screenshots to show my points. i still considered her a decently good friend at the time, and even with the slightly off feelings, i was still adamant about brushing them off and considering them coincidences that perhaps i was being a bit too critical of.

it wasn’t until i woke up a few hours later after changing my theme and going to bed that i noticed she’d then fully switched to the insta theme. again, instagram is an app used by millions and, at one point, was a very popular theme used amongst most people on this app. i’m not entitled enough to believe i was the first person to do it, but like i said. there are just off vibes most of us will not help but feel when a series of coincidences continue to happen back to back to back by the same person.

there were, amongst these things, a number of other small touches that made me feel off. most of them i don’t remember by now or have screenshots of, so i won’t bother to go into all of them, but for reference, one example i’d also like to point out that i’d had the phrase “you’ve reached the hanmas” in my inbox when she was still on @/atsymu, and sometime after, her sfw blog @/loveatsu had the phrase “you’ve reached the miyas.” small things like this are not things i make an issue over and am more than capable of brushing aside, but like i have said and will continue to push firmly is that i felt there were multiple instances of emmie, in particular, making small tweaks to her blog shortly after me that made me feel were not all coincidentally similar. the issue was never themes or thinking i am the first or only person to do something a certain way, the issue has always been me countless times feeling that one particular individual is exhibiting a behavior that is persistent and uncomfortable no matter how minuscule the instances may be. maybe they were really just unfortunate coincidences that happened with poor timing, or maybe they weren’t. but i stand by the fact that anyone in my shoes would be valid to question the timing of each of these events over and over again.

i would also like to bring up kinktober (though this happened a while after the rest of what i will get into) because this was the first public discourse that emmie and i got into due to an anon’s claims of similarities between our posts. i had received an anon who told me “i think someone copied your kinktober masterlist” which i answered to ask if they could let me know who. they had come back to say it was garoujo, and i did not reply to the ask, instead, i made a post to vaguely tell the anon that i appreciate them letting me know, but i will just leave it be and continue on with my kinktober regardless of emmie’s mlist. i do think there were some vague similarities, but honestly not enough to really question it, so i figured a confrontation or issue was not necessary. a while later, several moots had messaged me to let me know they had received anonymous asks saying to “block @/garoujo she copied @/sakusins and she’ll copy you too” (or something along those lines, i don’t remember exactly.) i myself was very confused (and upset) by the situation because i did not, and still would not, want to be publicly name-dropped in other people’s inboxes over issues that do not involve them. unfortunately, it led to some not-very-kind asks to both of us, and while i am sorry she had to deal with that, it is not an apology from a sense of culpability. that situation was, and still is, entirely out of my control. i would not have seen the masterlist unless the anon had mentioned it, and i did not take part in having people send asks about her to other writers. especially not in a manner that was pretty much social suicide for me as well.

(this is a poorly made collage i know lol but i hit the picture limit bear with me here.)

i would also like to point out that i am not the only individual who has had issues with emmie and feels she had copied them. although i cannot disclose urls (they have been blocked out for privacy reasons) here are a few conversations i have had with my own mutuals, and i would wager there are more people whom i haven’t talked to who also feel this way. they might be small enough instances that sparking issues over them was not worth it to all of these people, therefore she has never heard from people herself about this issue, but the point does still stand that this claim about emmie is not one i alone make, and is one that i have heard countless times before. her never being approached by these individuals for the sake of peace doesn’t erase that they have been, and are, upset by these events, and it’s a habit that she seems to continually partake in. i would also like to link this post where she has been called out by another writer while she was still atsymu, which was posted while we were still friends. i’ve actually had a discussion with emmie about that post, and at the time, i had quickly skimmed the post and felt it was perhaps a reach, but after my own experiences, i went back to reread the post and considered perhaps there was validity to it, and that this might not be a one time occurrence. plagiarism in manners such as this will always have conflicting opinions, and it is hard to sometimes tell if something is a coincidence, a popular and overused idea, or something that has actually been copied. my point is that a number of people have all felt that perhaps there is a good chance this was not an accident, and please consider that so many instances of people feeling this way might suggest that there is a certain degree of validity to the claim.

at the beginning of all of this, when the masterlist banners had first started bothering me, i was upset, and i chose to vent to an ex-moot of mine who most of you would recognize as munsonsins. abby has deactivated a long while ago, but she’s relevant to this because i had chosen to vent to her at the time, and this is more or less what later caused this situation to escalate. at the time of venting to her, i knew she wasn’t mutuals with emmie because, as you can see, she’d told me as such.

one thing i would like to point out is that there were a handful of people i had vented to about my frustrations with emmie, but one thing i had always been mindful of was ensuring these were a) individuals who i considered close friends and not just random individuals, and b) were not friends or moots with emmie in the event that i accidentally made people who she cared about think lesser of her. had abby been mutuals with emmie, i would not have shared my feelings, and once again, i was not loose-lipped enough to just tell anyone because they’d listen. i told abby in particular because i had felt we were sufficiently close individuals who talked one-on-one and were able to vent to each other. a bit after i vented to her, though, she befriended emmie, which i had no such issues with because abby was/is her own person and is an adult who can interact freely and befriend whoever she wanted/wants to.

not long after that, on the night before eid (this detail is relevant in the future) an ex moot of mine @/kazuwhora reached out to me. if you guys remember, there was a discourse last year that was all over dash about how writers on this app should be open to criticism. a lot of people (including me and kc) were upset by that sentiment—which is still valid. please don’t give constructive criticism to writers without their explicit permission !! but regardless, kc sent me a screenshot of a mutual of mine who had posted their opinion on this discourse, and their point was clearly that while constructive criticism is important in some aspects, writers do not have to be subject to receiving it should they not want to. unfortunately, i felt as if kc misunderstood what this individual was trying to say, and i was trying to explain it to her, but we got into a small argument over how we interpreted the post. i felt some of the things she was saying about this individual were inappropriate, and i had made it clear that i was very fond of this person, and it made me uncomfortable to be having this discussion. regardless of whether she saw my interpretation of the post or not, i wanted to drop the discussion, especially because it was the night before eid. eid is the one holiday i celebrate, and there are traditions i quite enjoy the night before, and i didn’t want them to be spoiled with a poor mood over a silly argument. unfortunately, she wasn’t very willing to drop the topic, and it ended up making me upset. so i posted this screenshot to my moots only personal from the conversation that consisted of my messages only and said, “tonight i had to explain what a debate is.” it was petty, perhaps, but very harmless, seeing as there was no context given and no names/pfps to indicate who the person was.

truthfully, i had vented separately to cat, eris, and abby about this argument because i was friends with the three of them at the time, but needless to say, venting to your friends about arguments is a universal action, and i believe it is something all of us have partaken in.

eventually, i decided to softblock emmie because i felt it would be more comfortable for me on my blog to do so. after a bit, i was informed of a subpost that seemed like it couldn’t be about anyone other than me—to make things clear, emmie subposting me was not my concern. i did not hold it against her because she is more than entitled to have her own feelings and vents on her own blog, but the thing that did concern me was that it seemed slightly evident that she was aware of my feelings when i had never explicitly had a conversation with her. it made me question who would tell her, and as you may have guessed, the only person with whom i had shared my concerns who could also be in contact with emmie was abby.

at the time, eris had also voiced concerns that they had trusted abby with the ending of the plot for the diluc series they were planning, and coincidentally, one of abby’s friends had posted a fic idea eerily similar to their concept, to which abby had been commenting and reblogging more brainstormed ideas under. all of these ideas were very close to the plans eris had for their series plot, and understandably, they felt that it was not a mere coincidence that their entire plot was being brainstormed on dash by a person who was fully aware of their outline. i’d voiced my concerns with believing that abby may have also been sharing things i trusted her with, and as a result we both had made a few vague subposts that we liked from each other—a petty behavior, i will admit, but not something that i think is very out of the norm for a lot of people on this app. sometimes, we all just want to vent out our frustrations, and because we all more or less use tumblr as an outlet, these can sometimes be vaguely taken to dash. it’s not something that is ideally recommended (i’ve learned the hard way) but it’s also ?? not exactly something that only i’m guilty of, or is even a rare behavior. i think to shoot down one person for this behavior is quite frankly hypocritical. again, subposting isn’t a habit i would like to push as mature but it’s something i’d like to point out is very normal in this community, and is not something only i take part in. beyond that, i take to ensuring that whenever i do, i’m not explicitly exposing who i’m talking about in order to keep them out of unnecessary issues.

after this conversation with eris, it kind of solidified in my mind that i did not want to trust abby with any more personal vents, or information, and i had ultimately decided to soft block her too. i had also decided to take the opportunity to softblock kc as well because i figured i might as well just remove individuals who i felt made me uncomfortable. this is, again, my right to do so to curate my own space. not long after, cat, eris, and i had been softblocked/hardblocked by a number of moots, and we were a bit confused, until cat ended up having a conversation with kc. many accusations were made about all three of us, more specifically, about me to kc by abby because the two of them had been discussing that they’d both been softblocked by me recently.

the list of accusations we were told of is as follows:

me, cat, and eris have a “burn book” where we “blacklist people.” it’s important to note that every time this discourse resurfaces (this is now the fourth time), the “burn book” has fundamentally changed in its composition—it has changed from a discord server “burn book”, to a google doc “burn book”, to the current rumor that it was an entire blog that was used as a “burn book.” it is consistently changed to fit whatever narrative is trying to be pushed, and regardless, the rumor itself is entirely untrue and has been addressed multiple times. cat has had a tumblr theme, a collab theme, and a server theme all dedicated to the film mean girls. she simply had a channel that was to share the urls of minors to block for interacting with nsfw works, or people who were anti-dark content—this is something that i have seen in all servers i’ve been in during my time on tumblr, and is not a new concept for many of you either. it’s simply a precaution a lot of servers take to warn writers about potential minors to block, and potential anti-dark content harassers. the name of this channel happened to be “the burn book” because it was a mean girls themed server, so the name just fit. nowhere in this channel were other writers in the community “blacklisted” or spoken negatively of, and here are the screenshots of the channel. this was simply something abby had twisted in order to paint us negatively. here is the link to cat’s post addressing it for proof and explanation (i run out of pictures or i would include them myself.)

abby also claimed that i was using this channel to talk poorly about kc and a handful of other moots. this is also false bc this server had several strangers (as it was cat’s server and i didn’t know all her moots), but it also had several of kc’s mutuals/friends in this server as well. i’m not so dense as to talk poorly about other writers publicly in a server, let alone a server i know has people who are friends with kc

now, this next part, emmie has conveniently painted out to be about me, as i apparently harassed and blacklisted people for liking itto from genshin impact, but i have been playing genshin for over a year on this app, and quite a large number of you are my own followers who see my rambles and my writing and i don’t have to explain that i have never written for itto, nor explicitly expressed an interest in him apart from perhaps one or two posts from back when i did his story quest. i never had, and still to this day, have no interest in the character itto. i’ve skipped his banner, i plan to skip his upcoming banners should they come, and i have never written for him, nor do i plan to write for him. this issue with itto is between eris and another individual, and i do not have the details to this, as i was new friends with eris at the time, and i’m no longer friends with eris as of current time. quite frankly, even if i knew the details, i wouldn’t go out of my way to share them because it has nothing to do with me. plain and simple.

as you can see, there were a number of rumors spread here to kc by abby, and as you can see, all of which led me to seem quite vicious in character. i’ve provided, to the best of my ability, screenshots and receipts of why each of these is quite drastically out of context and far from true to what abby has claimed.

i did in fact, after these events confront abby because i was genuinely appalled by the way she knowingly and purposely twisted things conveniently to villainize me. she expressed that she was upset and paranoid by the subposts that she figured were about her once i’d soft blocked her, so i apologized for the posts. she had conversations with both me and cat about the rumors she’d started, and she also apologized for them to both me and cat.

the rumors that emmie has claimed about me in her post, which she conveniently provided no evidence of, are all rumors that are more or less a result of my differences with abby and kc. unfortunately, despite cat trying her best to explain to kc the falseness of most of these rumors, she didn’t really believe them—which is her business. to each their own. i’m sure if i had been in kc’s shoes and in one night, someone i had considered a friend had been painted to do a series of nasty things behind my back, i also would not know what’s true and untrue, and she is entitled to piecing together what she believes is her truth. what’s not fair, however, is for emmie to have no involvement/understanding of these events apart from a twisted narrative she heard from one person and dog pile them into her claims of my behavior to further paint me as a villain. emmie is more than entitled to have her beliefs on my character based on her own experiences, which she has provided her own evidence of, but simply slapping an “and i heard she also….” does not necessarily make claims true, and is very manipulatively thrown into the post to add a list of things that make my character questionable to further validate her point.

not only this, but she has made a point to openly admit that she and her friends have collectively mocked me for my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, who they have apparently labeled as my “fake” boyfriend that i used to get attention on this app. quite plainly, i get enough attention on my blog that i don’t need a fake boyfriend to amp that up. but furthermore, i am a south asian, muslim individual. my parents are immigrants with very strict religious and cultural beliefs that i feel are very restricting at times, and though i love my family, i struggle with my identity quite a bit as i live in a very western culture that clashes quite a bit with my cultural norms. i do not get to freely explore my sexuality or even romantic life in general, unlike some of you. my parents have been kept in the dark about my relationship because them knowing about it is something that could quite literally create a rift between us, and i find it very insulting and almost suspicious that a white girl is making a mockery of my cultural struggles and my personal life. many of you are either desi or muslim or simply children of strict immigrant parents with quite stubborn traditional views. i’m sure plenty of you understand where i’m coming from when i say that i have to keep my relationship hidden from the majority of the people around me. tumblr is the one place i can anonymously share bits and pieces of my life without worrying about if it will literally cost me my relationship with my parents, so sometimes i may have overshared silly or pointless things, but that is because it’s my own way of being able to express myself and my relationship the way i have always wanted to. apart from that, dragging and making a joke out of someone’s personal life is quite unnecessary in this case. the issue is about tumblr discourse, and i find it very hypocritical that i am being labeled a bully when people, more specifically a white and privileged individual, is plain and simple mocking and poking fun at my personal life and situation that i have no control of. that is my piece on that. whether some of you believe i had a partner or not is not my business, nor do i have to go out of my way to show you evidence of my personal life. what i will say, however, is that there are a handful of close friends i have on this app who are involved in my personal life and have seen evidence of my love life through pictures and private stories on social media. quite frankly, these are the only individuals who i have to justify the validity of my personal life to, and it’s honestly quite violating for someone to stoop to dragging someone’s outside life into issues about tumblr. i extend a very genuine fuck you to every single one of you that have ridiculed my personal relationship and just know that you are extremely bold to consider yourselves above bullying when this is the type of behavior you admit to engaging in. individuals with complex familial relationships, and identity struggles between cultural norms, their ethnicities, and the western world are not your playground to make a joke out of. some of us have very real struggles, such as not being able to pursue careers in favor of arranged marriages, not being able to pursue actual relationships that mean something to us due to a lack of familial approval, being forced to bear children at young ages due to familial pressure, and so on. they are not laughing matters, and are a part of my reality. and before some of you get started—yes, it really is that serious. i have struggled my entire life with having white girls poke fun and tease at my cultural norms, and i refuse to allow another white and privileged individual who already has a record of racially related discourse walk away with once more poking fun at my personal struggles and not be called out for it. i hope you had a good, long, satisfying laugh emmie.

onto my next points based on claims @/anantaru has made about me. the main thing i’d like to really point out here is that anantaru and i have never, not even once, interacted to the extent of my knowledge. they claim that cat and i cannot stand it when people cross us in numbers and that we go through people’s likes in order to find minors and blank blogs to explain all the notes. a) i am very bad at checking for minors and blanks in my own notes, so this is not even a logical approach on my end, but b) this claim is made because cat made this post under the tags of a post going around last year that asked to hear unpopular ficblr opinions.

what cat means to articulate here is that sometimes, when she is scrolling on dash and interacting with moots and their shit/talk-posts, she peeks at profiles she sees in the notes and has happened to catch minors lurking. cat, firstly, has never followed anantaru, so they are not a “victim” to cat glancing at their likes, but secondly, this is not nearly as psychotic as it’s painted out to be. cat is not, and was not, jealous of other blog's notes. quite plainly, she’s not exactly a tiny blog either, and she’s only stumbled upon minors in the talks-posts of moots, including me. shit-posts/talks-posts are easy to notice minors lurking on, and while most people recognize that it’s quite impossible to catch every minor and ageless blog in writing posts with numerous notes, a simple shit-post on dash is more simple, and her unpopular opinion was simply that blogs that grow rapidly need to be better about catching those minors because they are susceptible to having more of them lurking. it’s a really harmless sentiment, and she’s gently reminded me as well on more than one occasion to be more responsible about my habit of being lazy when scouting for minors in my interactions.

this is not out of jealousy, nor is it some sick and twisted habit she has to “explain” why people get more notes than she might get. it’s also out of a place of concern for her own content ?? i myself and plenty of other large blogs reblog from mutuals, and they are well within their right to be concerned that perhaps minors are lurking on our pages and interacting with works we reblog from our mutuals. cat has voiced this concern to me before, also out of goodwill and simple concern for my content, her content, and minors in general. there is simply no need to twist it into her viciously looking down upon large blogs and their notes counts and claiming they’re “only because they don’t block minors.” admittedly, though, i do need to be better about catching minors, and i have always appreciated her trying to keep me in the habit of being responsible about it. more importantly, it was a small passing comment under a post of unpopular opinions, a lot of them were hot takes, and this is hardly a serious one to get so heated over.

i’d also like to point out that anantaru has claimed we blocked them for being a gatekeeper and because we’re jealous of their notes. 💀. a) i am very grateful and very happy with the level of interaction i get on my writing, as more people than i imagine leave me countless comments and reblogs. i have never had an issue with comparing my interaction with that of other writers because i have always been abundantly content with the interaction i get. i have no other comment on this other than cat and i blocked anantaru at the same time because we happened to see a post of theirs reblogged onto our dash that made a joke that we felt was a bit insensitive to/alluded to SA—i’m sure it wasn’t meant to be taken that way, but it made us uncomfortable regardless. while we are both dark content supporters, and i myself have read more than one fic that includes noncon in particular, it doesn’t mean we have to like/enjoy everything related to it and we simply decided to block them. i’m not going to bring this post up bc it’s simply not important. they are an adult who is more than entitled to make jokes on their blog and cat and i do not have to like them !! we simply did what we were well within our rights to do, and that’s blocking them.

there’s more they go on to say about receiving hate asks and that apparently it’s because of our “group of friends.” cat and i don’t have a group of friends. i don’t have any group chats with her besides the one with her boyfriend because i get along with him sometimes as well, and we used to play genshin together a lot when i was in low ar. not that i have to explain my friendships here, but i quite literally do not have a group of people to “send after” anantaru because people are well aware of my close friends, who i text with my personal phone number. i’ve posted silly screenshots of convos on my blog multiple times, and none of these friends overlap because i do not have a “group” of friends, just individual friends who i talk to one on one. cat is not friends with my other friends, and my other friends are not friends with her. there are no inner circles that conspire together to send anyone hate because i “tell them to.” and if there are screenshots of me explicitly encouraging someone to send hate on anon, i would love to see it. if i had sent my anons after anantaru, it would have to be a public post, and i’m sure if there were a post of such nature, it would have been brought to light by now. they have also claimed they were given multiple urls of mine to block. i only have ONE writing blog, @/saetoru, and the only other two that are still up are archived blogs @/hanmine and @/katsuphilia, which are side blogs attached to saetoru and have been inactive for several months. there are however, multiple individuals on this app who also go by the name “tee,” and perhaps we have unfortunately been mixed up as the same person, but the only blog i have is saetoru, so there is no other active blog they have blocked me from that belonged to me and was able to harass them.

not only that, but anantaru has claimed that one person off anon sent them hate with a kaeya url which they insinuate to be me. once again, you are all more than aware of my history of urls, and many of you have all been here to see them. i’ve never once had a kaeya url, nor have i ever been particularly interested in kaeya outside of a small number of posts on a rare occasion. my genshin favorites have always been characters from sumeru and, at one point diluc, and once again i don’t have to ?? explain my selfships to you all ?? but literally, i have nothing to do with a kaeya blog or kaeya account, and im unsure why it’s being thrown into my name. quite frankly, i’m not sure what their moot has told them we have said about them, but the only conversations cat and i have ever had about anantaru was that one about the noncon joke, and that’s it. outside of that, there is literally no evidence of us speaking about this person because it simply doesn’t exist.

i implore you all to, instead of starting public discourse over things you hear, confirm them first. had anantaru reached out to me or cat and expressed that they are upset that we are supposedly spreading false rumors about them gatekeeping, then whatever misunderstanding it might have been could have been cleared. i would like to also point out that it is not above bullying when you simply dump numerous accusations that you have heard through half whispers from moots and provide 0 evidence for them. i am perfectly aware of why emmie may consider herself to have issues with me, but i have never had an encounter with anantaru, and truthfully, i’ve never actually even read their writing before. my main (and pretty much only) experience with them is seeing the joke i saw reblogged onto my dash, and as i stated earlier, the only thing i did for that was block and move one.

and lastly, the other point i’d like to make is that numerous blogs who i have been objectively very kind to have come out to take the opportunity to stomp on my character and reputation. for example, tumblr user @/osaemu, who used to follow me and interact with me quite often. i have always been excited to interact with her because she was really supportive of my gojo writing, and at one point, i had a small area of concern with her using the same exact title as me for a gojo fic. below are screenshots of our conversation regarding the titles.

i am quite confident that this is a very polite interaction, and i was very clear that i didn’t think that her writing elements, including gojo’s parent dynamics and his dynamics with the reader, were copied or even something that i felt she needed to change. i pointed them out as a way of indicating that between these parallels and between the fact that i know she reads my rb! gojo series, i find it difficult to believe that our fic titles being exactly the same is a coincidence, and it made me uncomfortable—my concern was not how she wrote gojo’s parents or his dynamic with reader. i never accused her of stealing ideas that were mine alone to use, all i simply wanted to do was shed light on the fact that based on these parallels, i figured the names being the same was a touch difficult for me to brush aside as a chance similarity. i was very clear to outline that i know these dynamics and themes in writing are generic, and that people can pull inspo from them because i have done the same thing. my only concern was the title, which i politely asked her to change, and she agreed. case closed. i have been, again objectively, quite kind to osaemu, and i had no intentions of blocking her like a moot had suggested because i felt it was a very silly issue to block over since she was very lovely to me.

i did, however, block her because she posted one-paragraph posts with multiple characters tagged. that’s not a crime on her end, and i’m certainly not here to police her posts in the tags, but as me and plenty of other people on this app have voiced multiple times, it is a bit irritating and feels like spam to see posts of these kinds in the tags so i blocked her. this is a very popular opinion and i refuse to be considered problematic for it. i am not here to police what constitutes an appropriate post to tag x reader tags on, and while i have made posts simply sharing my opinion on what i feel should and should not be tagged, osaemu is more than welcome to post whatever she feels she would like to into the tags. i do, however, block anyone who i come across who makes those kinds of posts because i simply don’t like them, and i don’t like seeing them. i don’t owe an explanation for why i block anyone, but seeing as i have been painted as some bitch for doing so, here is my reasoning. quite a lot of people agree on this sentiment, and to each their own, but i don’t enjoy seeing those posts. i did also unblock her at one point, as she mentioned. this is simply because a mutual of mine had voiced that they felt someone had copied the concept of their drabble, and i was helping them word a message to send, so i went back to this exact conversation to look back on what i said because it was a similar situation. as you know, blocking someone hides their dms from your dm list, so i had intended to temporarily unblock her just to see how i worded my message to help formulate a message for a mutual. there were no screenshots sent, i simply wanted to jog my memory of my points, that’s all. i did forget to block her again for a bit but eventually did, and that’s the extent of our interactions. i don’t recall posts telling people that i condone sending anons with death threats like she has claimed, and if she could point out the particular posts i have made where i encourage people to send anon death threats on my behalf, i would be more than happy to clear them up, or address them.

i have admittedly, on a few occasions said in my responses to anon hate itself, the phrase “kys” out of frustration, and there are i’m sure conflicting opinions on that, but i do not regularly use this phrase in my vocabulary. i have been on the receiving end of graphic sexual and violent asks in my inbox regarding me, my teenage sister, and my mother, during my time on here, and sometimes out of frustration i have said less than dignified things, but this is not a constant behavior, and frankly, i think once people make graphic, violent, and inappropriate comments about my 16 year old sister, saying “kys” in response is not the greater of the two evils. it is a tad bit hypocritical to expect benevolence from me to an anonymous hate ask just because there is “another person” at the end of the screen when they have not extended the same sentiment to me.

all of that being said, jumping on the trend to trample on someone while you have the opportunity to because you’re bitter they blocked you is also no better than bullying. apart from blocking osaemu, I have taken careful steps to always be respectful to her due to the very kind comments she’s left on my writing. leaving nice comments on my writing is deeply appreciated and welcome, but that doesn’t mean i have to subject myself to seeing posts i do not want to see on my dash on my phone. i pay for the phone bill, so i will cater my phone to show me what i want to see, and if that includes blocking a few people, i am allowed to do that !! i should not have to apologize for or be crucified for blocking someone and their feelings being hurt over it.

not only this, but several of you have somehow started a rumor that i am 26 or even pushing 30. that’s nowhere close to the truth. i’m 21, soon to be 22, and i have stated multiple times i am an undergraduate college student. of course, there is no timeline to college, and people of all ages complete their undergrad degrees, but i have made it a point to vent about my concerns numerous times that i am very stressed about taking extra classes every semester to compensate for changing my major late because i want to graduate on time. my graduation year is 2024 (as would make sense seeing as i will be 22 years old), and if you don’t believe me, i have celebrated my bday on april 12th of every year this blog has been active. you’re more than welcome to check my archive to see if that’s true, and for further reference, here is a picture i have sent to mods of servers i am in to be accepted. (note that my url used to be hanmas before saetoru.)

although there is no shame in being 26 or pushing 30, the reason why i wanted to address this is that i wanted to point out that yet another rumor has been fiercely pushed on my name and has been believed to be the truth. no one has to walk away from reading this post assuming that i’m a saint and i have never done anything wrong or that i have been faultless in differences i’ve had with other people. but a lot, if not all, of these claims are exaggerated with 0 evidence, and people have just run with claiming them as true. i physically cannot deny a large majority of these rumors with evidence or screenshots because half of them are made by people i have never interacted with or talked to, and i cannot produce evidence for interactions that never happened. i have seen blank, burner blogs post stories of their experiences with me, one in particular that claims i dm’d them to tell them their hanma fic was breathtaking before i harassed them about their theme, boyfriend, and parents. a) i do not dm anyone to compliment their fics because i am simply too shy to do that. i would have only reblogged the fic with comments if i enjoyed it. b) again, there is no evidence on their part, and i cannot dispel this story with evidence of my own because evidence of conversations that never took place does not exist. and c) i would like to think i do not come across as dense enough to attack someone in their dm’s viciously about their boyfriend and parents openly with my account, where they could easily spread the proof around if it had actually happened. i am not responsible for people’s internet literacy, and if people believe every story that is shared with not even a small piece of proof that it took place, i cannot do anything besides simply urge you all to formulate your opinions based on what you see, not based on what you hear.

i would also like to end things off with an apology to all of you—mainly because there was no reason for so many of you to be dragged into something that did not involve you and also because there are very disturbing and important issues going on right now in real-time in the world that are affecting a lot of people. i never want to be involved in something that takes attention off of important discussions such as genocide, and while many of you like to claim i am deflecting, i think it is quite telling that some people have posted nothing about something this important but have made multiple posts regarding discourse. i did not feel it was appropriate at that time to focus on discourse, and i still do not think so, but i wanted to leave off with my own statement.

i would also like to apologize if i have ever come across as unkind during an experience with me; it is never my intention to be that way purposely. i have a habit of being petty sometimes and can be a bit short-tempered, and it’s something i work on. with as large of a following as i have, sometimes it’s better not to say anything at all than say it—however vaguely it might be. i hope some of you who also have larger followings keep that in mind so that you can avoid discourse erupting into something grand scale. please vent to people you trust and be wary of having a habit to subpost. but mainly, please remember that people trusting you with their feelings and troubles is not something you should take pride in spreading. there is nothing to be proud of about sharing people's private socials, urls, and conversations. while i am not always able to keep my temper under wraps, and while i have had my fair share of petty moments, i, to the best of my ability, have always made sure that i don’t come across as intentionally cruel or mean, nor have i purposely broken someone’s trust. sometimes i have retaliated back a bit fiercely, but i stand by the fact that i never purposely chased or drove anyone off, mocked or belittled them, or sent people over to dislike/hate them. i have at times vented to those who i believe are people i can trust, sure—but this is something we as people are all guilty of. there’s no way any of us can hold one person more accountable than others for partaking in closeted conversations that are never meant to get back to people and hurt them.

i genuinely loved, and still love, writing very much, and i have always appreciated every ask, every reblog, and every comment. writing is a hobby i am greatly passionate about, and it’s always a hobby i was very excited to share with people on here because i don’t get to share it with people irl. i don’t willingly tell people irl that i enjoy making elaborate plots about anime characters, and i have always been very excited to share that hobby with you all, whether you are a reader or writer. i’ve read fanfiction for a very long time before i ever decided to try my hand at writing it, and i would never want to knock other people down simply because they “surpassed” me. i enjoy finding writers to read from, especially those who write better than me, because they are where i draw the most inspiration and motivation from. the moots i look up to most are moots who are in my opinion, far stronger writers than me, and moots who i always firmly believe deserve much more reach than i do on their stories because they’re far more fleshed out and in-depth than anything i can produce. and i am proud of them !! and even those of you who feel you are stuck not getting as much reach as you would hope, i am proud also of all of you for picking up a google doc or pen and writing and trying, whether you choose to share it or not. i will always strongly encourage you all to try your hand at writing if you have ever considered it because i have genuinely built such a better sense of self-esteem when being able to incorporate pieces of myself in my stories and express parts of who i am—i think some of you might really enjoy the catharsis that writing brings, and if you ever debate on trying it out, please do !! you might become really passionate about it.

anyway, this post is abysmally long. none of it is to clear my name in hopes that i will be “un-canceled” (LOL) because i have decided saetoru is long overdue to be put to rest. i hope you can all, at the very least, allow other writers some peace and stop harassing them in their inboxes for knowing me (because that is also bullying and very ironic of you), and i hope you all got some sort of understanding of where i am coming from. if you think poorly of me, that’s okay. i have an opinion of myself, and the close people who surround me, that i am confident in, and while i may not have always handled things in the brightest of manners, i am well aware of what my intentions have always been.

i’m deeply grateful to all 41k of you, and thank you for reading my works and allowing me to write for you !! thank you for all the very, very kind asks that i never got a chance to fully answer each one of, and thank you especially for all the supportive comments and love on the writing i’ve posted. they might be silly fics you read once and moved on from, but they’re all pieces of me, my life, and things that are important to me, and as cringe and cheesy as it sounds, it means quite literally everything to me when people read them and take away something from them.

also, as a parting gift, i will be posting the nerd gojo, ex-convict geto, and a marriage rb! gojo fic to my ao3 (also saetoru) for those of you who have been patiently awaiting those wips to enjoy. please (a little more patiently) keep your eyes peeled for those <3 i will no longer be posting or active on saetoru, and in the event that i keep writing, it will be posted on my ao3, so you all will know where to find me !!

so for the last time, i love you my little runts !! wishing you all the best, and goodbye to my lil saetoru bestees.

mwah !!

— tee <3

ps. i also have turned off reblogs for this post and limited replies to people i follow only. a lot of you will jump to say that it’s simply because i am “hiding,” but it is solely because i have said my piece and i intend to move on. thank you and have a lovely day shawtee ✌🏽

#thanks to all my mutuals who have reached out !! i love you all #and i will miss you tons !!

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theemporium · 7 months

Note

Ahhh🧸🧸🧸 lando with his teen daughter who got drink for the first time? Maybe she snuck out when she wasn’t meant to but instead of being mad he’s just sweet and taking care of her and glad nothing happened to her🥹 maybe a lil snarky bc he’s lando

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“And where have you been all night, missy?”

Lando pressed his lips together when he watched his daughter freeze at the bottom of the steps and despite her back being to him, he could envision the look on her face so clearly. He knew exactly where she was. He knew exactly what she had done. But it was still sweet that she thought she was being subtle with the whole thing.

He knew the second you said no to your daughter about a party she wanted to attend, that she was going to disobey anyways. He saw the glint in her eyes, the same glint of mischief he recognised on his own. He knew she would be sneaking out. And maybe he should have prevented it, but he would’ve rather his daughter rebel when he was aware rather than do something worse when he wasn’t around.

He stayed awake, keeping an eye on her location (which she had stupidly forgotten to turn off) and made sure he was prepared to jump in the car if something happened. Eva was a daddy’s girl through and through, and he knew he would be the first person she would call if something happened.

Thankfully, nothing had happened except for the door she accidentally slammed on her way into the house.

“Uh,” Eva cleared her throat, gripping onto the bannister as she started to sway. “Midnight walk?”

“At four in the morning?” Lando countered.

“Midnight walks are about the vibe, not the time,” Eva said, her back still to Lando.

“And did you happen to encounter any alcohol on this walk?” Lando asked, watching the way her whole body tensed before she turned around, an innocent smile on her face.

“Don’t be silly, dad,” she scoffed, only to let out a little hiccup before she could finish her sentence.

He gave her a soft smile. “C’mon, champ, let’s get you sobered up and in bed before you throw up on the carpet. Your mum will kick off if she wakes up to vomit stains, trust me.”

Eva opened her mouth to disagree, to wave her father off and insist she wasn’t drunk and that she was perfectly fine. But then she was stumbling and Lando was rushing towards her, and her limbs just felt so heavy from the walk between the taxi and the front door and she couldn’t be bothered hiding it anymore.

“M’sorry,” she muttered, the words muffled as she rested her head on her father’s chest.

“It’s fine, honey,” Lando assured her as he wound one arm around her back and the other behind her knees, swooping her up in his arms as he began to head upstairs. “You’re a teenager. It’s what you crazy kids do.”

“Are you mad?” Her voice was so small, so scared. He hated it.

“Never, Eva-Bunny,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her hairline. “Just wanna know you’re safe. That’s all me and your mother want.”

“I know,” she sighed, nuzzling her face against the soft fabric of the hoodie he was wearing. “M’sorry for lying.”

“It’s not me you have to apologise to,” he said as he gently pushed her bedroom door open with his foot. “You’re gonna have a killer headache as your punishment in the morning.”

Eva let out a whine. “I don’t want it.”

Lando snorted. “You don’t get a choice, honey.” He placed her down on the bed, lying her head on the pillow before he moved to grab some clothes she could change into while he went down to get her some water and painkillers. “If you’re lucky, your mum will make her infamous hangover cure. Use the puppy dog eyes, she could never say no to those.”

Eva gave him a sleepy smile. “Think you can do something to piss her off so she isn’t too mad at me in the morning?”

“And put myself in the line of fire?” Lando retorted before giving her a matching smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Anytime, Eva-Bunny.”

#cece's slumblurb party #lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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winksasleeplesseye · 1 year

Text

Late

A/N: I wrote this for my OC and Leon but decided to rework it to be reader fic (bc I’m nice like that but don’t be surprised if I end up posting that one as well at some point).

MINORS DNI!

Pairing: Post!RE4R!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon’s home resting from Spain, Jill invites you out but Leon wants you to stay in but you’re not budging, luckily for Leon, he’s always up for a challenge.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: straight up smut, oral (f receiving), Leon being hot

————————————————————————

You sat at the vanity, putting on the finishing touches of your makeup and your outfit. Jill had invited you out on the town since she was visiting, a momentary return to normalcy you both seriously needed.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Leon sprawled out on your shared bed.

If he wasn’t wearing his comfiest pair of sweats and an obscure band tee, you probably would’ve thought he was posing for a spread in Playgirl. Either way, you’d always want to climb all over him like a tree.

His eyes flitted back and forth between pages of a mission report, a pair of reading glasses perched at the tip of his nose, clearly not helping with reading.

“You know, it’s not too late for you to get dressed to come with me.” You offer, but you already know exactly what he’ll say.

“Or you can stay in with me,” You looked at him from the reflection in the mirror, he was making the cutest pout face in your direction.

Raccoon City and now Spain had changed you both in different ways fundamentally. Leon had become more of a homebody, while you didn’t mind going out into the world, had everything occurred differently, you imagined he’d come with. Yet, you couldn’t fault him for it, the hells and horrors you both endured certainly weren’t normal.

“That won’t work on me, Kennedy, I know your ways,” You laughed.

Papers shuffling and the springs of the mattress dipping sound behind you. “Oh, really?”

One thing you occasionally forget is that Leon Scott Kennedy is never one to back down from a challenge. And right now? His challenge is clear.

Leon is quick to wrap his arms around your middle, bringing you up to a standing position crushed against his front. He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, placing hot, open mouthed kisses against it.

The helpless sound that escapes your lips is equal parts pleasure and annoyance. “You evil man.”

He lets out the sexiest chuckle as his lips travel over all the exposed skin you have on display. The butterfly top you’d gotten only recently is now already disheveled as Leon works a hand underneath the cup of the fabric, rolling a nipple between his fingers.

You turned your head, pulling Leon into a frenzied kiss before pulling away for mere seconds only to face him fully in the kiss.

Your phone, a slim black Nokia was going off in your back pocket but quite frankly you were more lost in your fingers exploring underneath Leon’s clothes as he did the same to you. Jill would just have to wait.

Leon’s hands gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you with an ease that shouldn’t have been so sexy but it was.

Challenge? Oh, who were you kidding? You barely put up a fight. Leon knew exactly what would convince you every time.

“You really thought you could go out, looking like that?” he asked huskily, wrapping your legs around his slim waist.

Feeling particularly wicked, you answer with a smirk, “Yes.”

You felt victorious but that was going to be short-lived, Leon practically threw you down on the mattress, no care for the papers that now laid all over the floor.

You tried to contain your excitement as Leon undid the buttons to your black jeans, just barely ripping them off of you. Your underwear wasn’t so lucky, the flimsy material now laid on the floor alongside Leon’s papers.

For a moment, you shudder at the feeling of being bare.

You didn’t even have to wonder what Leon would do next; he was already sinking down to his knees, pausing long enough only to pull you to the edge of the bed. He didn’t give you any time to prepare yourself. His broad shoulders shoved your legs apart and his mouth was on your in an instant.

“Oh, shit, Leon,” You breathed. Your head fell back against the mattress as his mouth explored your folds. Your fingers found their way to his hair where they tangled themselves in his blonde locks with abandon.

Leon’s tongue licked kittenish and broad stripes up your pussy, earning him a tug that had him letting loose a small groan against your core. He’d always liked his hair pulled, but he seemed to like it even more now.

You couldn’t think of anything but Leon, focusing all your attention on looking at the man between your legs to find that his blue eyes already bore into you, watching for every single reaction, certainly feeling some gratification that he’s always able to do all of this to you.

His tongue alternated between licking between your folds and disappearing deep inside you. Occasionally his nose would brush your clit but he seemed to be ignoring it on purpose, driving you nearly mad with need.

“Leon, baby, please,” You pathetically whimper, eyes heavily lidded gazing needily at the man between your legs.

He gave you one last long, sinful lick before gazing up at you through lust-blown eyes. Clearly, you didn’t have to wonder if he enjoyed pleasuring you like this.

“You’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart. Now, what do you want?” he asked.

You bit your lip, you really didn’t want to voice your thoughts out loud, considering Leon knows your body so well, but you both knew he wasn’t going to budge until you said it. So, you caved. “I need your mouth on my clit. Ple-“

His tongue darted out and swirled around the engorged bud, instantly drawing a loud moan from your lips. you clapped a hand over your mouth, not wanting the entire building to hear you. “Like that?” he asked salaciously, looking up at you with now nearly black eyes, pupils overtaking the blue color. Before you could answer his mouth found your clit again, giving it a gentle suck. A strangled cry left your mouth and he relented to lavish the rest of you with deft licks.

“You really are an evil man,” You murmured fondly. You could practically feel him grin. To hell with Jill, this way was more important. You knew she’d probably be a little mad to be blown off for a few hours but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care; it felt too damn good.

In mere minutes, Leon had reduced you to a pile of jello on the mattress, you were pretty sure that your hand was the only thing keeping you from screaming your euphoria to the high heavens. “L-Leon, baby, I’m so fucking close-Oh my-ah!”

“That’s it. Come on my tongue,” he whispered filthily. Your breathing became unstable, vocal cords shaky as Leon’s name spilled feebly from your mouth; your toes curled, your legs shook as your thighs clamped down on his head as your orgasm sent your body off the edge of the earth.

Your fingers tugged sharply on his hair and his resulting moan felt like it resonated throughout your whole body. He worked his tongue over your clit until the sensation was obviously overwhelming then switched to spearing you with it, moaning as though you were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

When you were spent he finally ceased, standing slowly and removing your shirt in one fluid motion. “You’d better call Jill and apologize now,” he wore a proud grin, hands pulling up his shirt.

God, you love this man.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy with reading glasses?#I think YES #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #this may have a part 2

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danikamariewrites · 7 months

Note

could i request one with rhys x reader where he is so incredibly in love with her it’s ridiculous. He is such a simp for her, she literally only has to ask and he gets her anything she wants. one day she jokes about him being very generous and says

” i’m sure if i ask for a golden pony, you’ll find a way”

next day he’s visiting Helion and asks for a golden pony.

The ic even makes fun of how much he simps for reader. One day they’re all walking in velaris to go to ritas and readers strap on her heel slips. Rhys gets on his knees to fix it with no hesitation. The inner circle looks at him with incredible shock and their jaws are dropped. Bc in acomaf it says that he has sacred tattoos on his knees and will never bow for no one and nothing but his crown. it’s the first time they ever see rhys on his knees for someone. Reader doesn’t know ab it and just says thank you and they continue walking. After a while he confesses to her and she feels the same and live happy forever 😁😁

Only For You

Rhys x reader

A/n: this is so freakin cute and writing this had me kicking my feet giggling

Warnings: none

You and Rhys had grown up together, so his kindness and generosity was nothing new to you. Whenever you needed or even just wanted something Rhys would get it for you. New shoes? Done, he knows what style you like. Need new clothes? He has your size and his tailor knows exactly what to make you.

You had always insisted on paying you back but he never let you. Rhys would always say, “Nonsense y/n. I like biting you things so please let me get this for you.” You’d breathe out a sigh of defeat and cup his cheek. “Thank you Rhys. I swear if I asked for a golden Pegasus you’d find me one.”

Rhys cherished your warm touch. He loved your soft skin and how gentle you are with him. The High Lord was so clearly in love with you but he was too afraid to admit it. If Rhys lost you as a friend because of his feelings he doesn’t know how he’d go on.

And he didn’t forget about that golden Pegasus. It was your 450th birthday present and you named her Sunny.

Tonight you were all headed to Rita’s to unwind after a busy work week. Mor had teased you about Rhys while you got ready together. “He’s completely and utterly in love with you! How can you not see he is wrapped around your finger.”

You had just rolled your eyes and laughed at your friend. “We’ve been friends for centuries Mor. Rhys would’ve said something by now. I just have to deal with that.” Deep down you were mad,y in love with Rhys. You just kept telling yourself he didn’t feel the same way. It made everything easier. You two were just friends after all.

Walking to Rita’s you and Cassian were hanging on each other crying laughing at something Mor said about Amren. Your heel caught in a crack of the cobblestone, causing the strap of your shoe to come undone. “Oops, hold on a second, my shoe.”

The group stopped as you lifted your dress a little to asses the damage. Before you could fix it, Rhys was on his knees looking up at you with a small smile. “I got it for you darling.”

His fingers gently grazed your ankle, sending a shiver up your body. You watched as Rhys carefully buckled the strap around your ankle again. Without thinking he caressed your calf and looked up at you. You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

You run your fingers through his soft raven locks, bringing your hand down to caress his face, holding his chin. Giving it a small squeeze you say, “Thanks Rhys.” Mor giggles and takes your arm, pulling you ahead of the boys.

Cassian and Azriel stare at their brother with their jaws on the ground. Rhys stands, brushing off his pants. “I thought you said-“ Cassian started. Rhys cut him off, “Only for my equal.” Cassian didn’t think it was possible but he felt his jaw unhinge more at Rhys’s confession.

Rhys started to follow you and Mor while Cassian stood frozen. Azriel came up next to him closing his mouth and patting him on the back. “I can’t believe I knew before you.” He said with a smug look on his face.

When you woke up the next morning something felt different. You felt a light in your chest, pulling you out of your room.

Getting ready you follow that pull down the hall all the way to Rhys’s office. You find him sitting in his armchair, seemingly contemplating something. You felt nervousness radiating off him. Not only could you hear his heartbeat, but you swore you felt it in your own chest.

Pausing, you place your hand over your heart. You slowly approach him. Resting a hand on his shoulder Rhys leans back into the cushioned seat, placing his hand over yours. Rhys looked up at you with a hope on his beautiful face. The light of the fire in the hearth before him highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect jawline.

Closing your eyes you took a chance and reached out down that new glowing bond. Towards Rhys. Towards unconditional love. Rhys gripped your hand tighter as he let out a shaky breath.

Opening your eyes you found Rhys’s line with silver. You blinked your own tears away as you looked at him with adoration. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I said I’d never bow before anyone or anything but my crown. That changed when I found you, my equal in every sense of the word.”

Rhys pulled you onto his lap. “I love you too Rhys,” you whispered back, “I’ll share that crown with you for the rest of our lives.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #rhysand fluff #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand acotar #rhysand #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader fluff

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

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idk why but I think it would be funny reader stuck in the elevator with joe and reader freaking out bc the elevator stopped while joe is all soft and trying to calm her down

YES excellent – i merged this idea with another request from anon who asked for a story that starts on the tube, so, here we go... a new five-part series! here's part one! thanks for the request, you're well sexy and the best, love ya for life xo Wordcount: 2.6K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Rough night?”

You knew what this looked like.

You understood why the person who you'd sat down next to immediately got up and moved a few seats down. Why they avoided the drama of it all.

You understood why the lady opposite you stared at the floor and nothing but the floor, pretending that she hadn't seen you, probably because that would just be easiest for everyone involved, the politest thing to do.

You understood why the handsome stranger at the end of the carriage kept looking over, his big round eyes overflowing with pity for the runaway bride in the dirty dress, mascara stains all down her face and her hair a tangled up mess.

You got it.

You probably would’ve felt the same had you witnessed a girl in a wedding dress sit down in an empty seat, sort of dazed and empty-looking, numb to the stares and whispers – if people even whispered at all; the tube was notoriously quiet, always and forever.

“Rough night?” a boy from a group of four, maybe five, called over, and the rest of them all tried to hide their laughs.

Badly.

It was obvious they’d been drinking and you guessed they were on their way to the next party. Off to find another bar or a club that still let people in after the last tube had gone.

You made direct eye-contact with the kid, and you looked exhausted the way people can only look exhausted after they’ve cried for a good while.

Made sense, since, you know, you’d cried for a good while.

You just looked at this boy, who thought maybe he’d get a reaction out of you, but your lack of expression and unwavering stare quickly made him grow uncomfortable. Made his buddies shove his shoulders as they told him to leave her alone man, suddenly all respectful and well-mannered.

They felt the vibe. None of this was fucking funny.

It was enough to get him to back off, and thank fuck they all got off at Leicester Square – of course they did – and when the doors closed again, you noticed the carriage was mostly empty now.

A glance sideways told you the handsome stranger who’d been sneaking looks at you was still there.

Watching you.

What an outfit to be seen in by someone who had looks that would usually make you sit up a little straighter. Would make you faff with your hair a bit. Would make you stick your chin out and push your shoulders back, just in case he looked at you again.

You absolutely didn’t give a single shit about it now.

Couldn't care less about what you currently looked like.

You knew your face was a mess of streaky foundation with black mascara marks all the way down to your chin and, fuck it, you weren’t even planning on washing it off tonight. You’d wallow in bed and probably would cry some more before you’d fall asleep.

Tomorrow could be the day on which you’d care.

Maybe.

Right now all you’d wanted to do was murder someone, then sleep, and also, empty the rest of your bladder.

Perhaps that was the only thing about tonight that brought you secret joy; the memory of squatting over your boss’s handbag to piss right into it. You had to stop in a scurry when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and didn’t want to be caught, but, if you had been, ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered.

You had resigned with immediate effect when you'd seen them.

Finding her unguarded handbag on your way out was exactly what she fucking deserved. You knew you'd probably regret it later, but for right now, it was all you fucking had.

The train stopped at Covent Garden, and it took a second for your body to get up to get out. Like the signals your eyes and ears picked up took longer to travel to the right parts of your brain, that then following signals took longer to travel from your brain to the right parts of your body.

You had to lift up your skirt, two fists grabbing at the tulle, to make sure your feet didn't get caught up as you stepped onto the platform.

With the increasingly annoying See It, Say It, Sorted repeating itself for the millionth time within the fourteen minutes you'd been on the tube, the doors beeped behind you before you heard them roll shut.

The platform felt empty, just a couple other people making their way towards the exit, and with your zest for life currently non-existent, the sensation of the wind from the tube leaving felt nice. So, you took a second, just stood there and thought to yourself how long it would take for it to become weird that you weren't moving.

There were just too many things to freak out over, far too much to completely overwhelm you, but it was almost like none of it was real. As if every single survival mechanism your body held within itself had switched on. They all made sure that the only thing you had going inside your brain was a low, constant hum. Nothing else.

It was almost like you weren't even there.

Like the whole evening had been a dream.

Like you didn't even really exist in this moment right now.

Yea. You were definitely dissociating.

You felt like a ghost a little.

One that had to pee, still. That motivated you enough to turn your head, tired heavy-lidded eyes reading the signs to follow them out.

Exit. To the lifts and stairs.

You were nearly home.

Home, where you were definitely 100 per cent going to beeline it straight from your front door right into bed.

Just that thought alone brought you back into yourself a little more, but it was just so you could tear up again. You felt the hot pinpricks behind your eyes and quickly shoved yourself out again.

No more crying, please.

You could just... float down the underground tunnels behind yourself. Follow your own footsteps out of the station. You knew were you lived. You would find yourself there later.

It was fine.

It was after the last theater rush, so for Covent Garden standards, it felt eerily quiet. Not that you were complaining. Waiting for the lifts whilst crushed between a bunch of tourists was the last thing you wanted right now.

But stepping into an empty lift with just one other person stepping in behind you, seeing just a few people step out on the other side, felt weird too.

Especially when you looked, and you saw that the one other person was the handsome stranger from your carriage. He'd apparently gotten off too, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed.

You were wearing a dirty wedding dress. Had black marks all over your face, all over your hands.

He looked fucking stunning. All prim and proper. Vintage-looking tweed green suit. Olive-y green. Gorgeous and well put together, the literal exact opposite from you in your current state. Like, sure, his curls were a little messy, but it seemed part of his look.

As the lift doors closed behind you, the stranger gave you a polite nod accompanied by a tight lipped smile. And you would have returned it, would've made it a kind, well-mannered exchange of acknowledgement, but, you weren't really inside of your body, remember?

All you did was look at him a second, face all blank, and you only slightly noticed that the empathy in his eyes doubled right in front of you before you turned away. You turned and slumped against the side, head resting back, eyes scanning the ads but not really reading anything, and you wondered if these lifts ever got cleaned. If someone ever took a rag and some cleaning solution and wiped down all the panels. By the look of things, probably not.

What if that was your job?

Clean the Covent Garden tube station lifts every day. There were four of them, and you imagined they all could use a good scrub.

You honestly wouldn't mind a job like it. You needed a new job anyway, 't was close to home and you liked the sense of accomplishment cleaning something incredibly dirty gave you. Where you could really see the difference.

You were doing a stellar job at distracting yourself from the current situation you were in. Made sure to stay all the way out of your body. Made sure that this veil that separated you from the real world, that blurred the boundaries between what was real and what was not, made sure that it stayed in place.

You were so close to home.

Wanted to be there right this second.

Fuck, you were so tired.

Maybe your new job could be figuring out this whole teleportation thing. See if you could make that work for yourself.

You didn't realise that your eyes were staring at the man who stood near where the doors were meant to open when you reached ground floor. Just, comfortably locked at the shoulder seam of his jacket.

Even when he turned his head a little for a quick look before he took a small sip from a half empty water bottle, surely because he could sense your two bulging wet eyeballs burn into his back, you didn't move your eyes.

Felt too nice to keep them there.

But then, without warning, there was a sudden jolt. It shocked you right back into your body and you couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you. The lift had come to an abrupt halt, and the lights flickered for a moment before they settled into a dim glow.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” the barely audible sound of your voice surprised you. Your throat still felt thick from crying, and hearing it out loud just reminded you of it more.

“Is it stuck?”

For a second, you thought that maybe, you were wrong.

You made a mistake.

Clearly you weren't really with it right now, so you didn't really trust your senses currently. You didn't really know what was real and what wasn't and found it difficult to differentiate.

But then the guy who was in there with you looked around, and then lowered his head. By the way his eyes moved, you could tell he was trying to listen for something.

“Are we stuck?” you tried again, and his eyes shot up to look at you.

No answer.

Fuck.

A mix of emotions washed over you; disbelief, annoyance, a new good dose of self-pity along with a strong healthy pang of sheer panic.

Cute.

It was kind of exactly how you felt about an hour ago.

If only there was a handbag of someone you really hated to piss into to elevate the situation a little. It helped a lot before.

“I think we're stuck.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to hear and it immediately threw you for a loop.

A panic attack.

The whole ordeal.

Your heart quickened its pace, an unsettling sensation tightened your whole chest and your breathing picked up, became all shallow at a rapid rate. Before you knew it, the box you were now trapped in felt like it was shrinking around you and suddenly you were in a place of imminent danger.

You were inside a mortal trap, a tragedy waiting to happen.

You had to sit down.

But your knees were locked.

You didn't know if the moisture you felt on your face were tears or sweat.

Oh man, it was hot in there. Did this guy feel hot in there too? Jesus Christ, why were wedding gowns so fucking restricting?

You saw how the emergency button was pressed, just once. Sensible. And then this guy waited patiently as he listened to static coming from the little intercom below it.

Well, fuck that.

In your panic you kind of threw yourself at this emergency button and with frantic hands and shaking fingers, you pressed it over and over and over, until two big hands took hold of you and guided your arms down.

“It's OK, don't worry. Help will come,”

Those words meant nothing to you, no matter how kindly they were said.

“Hello?!” you shouted like anyone would hear you, eyes big and darting, and you scanned the rest of the lift for more buttons.

Your phone!

Of course.

You fished your phone out, panicked movements making you nearly drop it.

No service.

Why?!

“Hey, breathe,” the far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good stranger tried, but you had already slung both arms over your head and got the jitters in your legs, desperately needing to move and so you started pacing.

Two small steps towards the back, two small steps back to where this guy was stood.

“This is just perfect, what the fuck, this is just–” the loud and sudden sob that escaped you made you slap a hand over your mouth.

“Calm down, we're safe, you need to–” he huffed a humourless laugh through his nostrils, all obvious nerves and tense uncomfortability. “You need to breathe,”

And he was right. You did need to breathe. You started feeling light-headed a little, felt your cheeks start to tingle, so you covered your face with both hands and squatted down, making the tulle skirt of your dress take up half the floorspace.

He joined you down there and held out his opened water bottle to you.

“Do you need some water?”

You didn't move your hands as you shook your head no.

“Okay, let me try that again. My name's Joe, I think you're having an anxiety attack, and I think you need some water. Here, have some water,”

“I don't want water.”

It was definitely sweat and tears. You felt clammy and cold but somehow uncomfortably hot at the same time.

“Breathe in, hey,” a finger got snapped in front of your face several times. That didn't do shit. “You're just breathing out, you've got to let air in too.”

And just for a second, the smallest fraction of a teeny tiny moment, everything suddenly cleared up in your mind. Comfort and ease took over and you felt... well, nothing.

Felt like drifting.

You felt everything flush down your body, all the way from your face right into your toes until it was all gone.

Just for a mere second, though.

“I'm fine,” you croaked before everything went slack. You lost your balance, your eyes rolled back and just like that, everything went dark.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Joe muttered, moving forward from sitting on his haunches to pressing his knees into the fabric of your dress as he tried to reach for you in a flash.

He got you by the arm, his open water bottle terribly in the way, and his other hand managed to reach around your neck. He got to slowly lower you down, ease you towards the floor entirely unsure of what to do next.

What did he need to do next?!

He was trapped in a tube station lift, on a stop he didn't even need to get out of, with an unconscious runaway bride who'd quite clearly was having the absolutely worst day of her life ever.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Then, behind him, from the corner of the elevator, the intercom static picked up again and was followed by a crackly voice.

“Emergency services, how can we assist you?”

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @freckledjoes @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl @emma77645 @tlclick73

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #between floors and feelings

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readerwithsalt · 1 year

Text

I think Hazel should’ve gone with Nico instead down to Tartarus. Without a prophecy or quest bc Nico and Hazel don’t play by the rule book.

Then we could’ve gotten an adorable underworld sibling bonding book with both of them hilariously being unaware of modern stuff. And telling each other stuff they’ve learned.

They ditch both of their boyfriends who are freaking out because they don’t know where they snuck off to. And since Nico said in HoH that when he and Hazel shared power that anything felt possible, they truly believe they can succeed.

(Also Hazel understands death and wouldn’t be complaining every five seconds like Will was. Maybe it would’ve been more original and less percabeth 2.0 (but worse)

It begins with Nico leaving Camp Jupiter, having visited Hazel (for what he believes could be the last time) and telling Will he would be back in a week or so. A lie Nico tells to keep his boyfriend from coming after him to Tartarus (way more in character of him lol) as he believes a child of Apollo would easily be snuffed out down there.

Nico realizes he’s throwing a good possible future away by sneaking out to do this, but the nightmares have become so twisted and unbearably disturbing that he fears he’s going to lose his mind either way if he doesn’t manage to find the person calling out his name every night.

He also doesn’t like when others are left behind.

Since Will has insisted Nico not use shadowtravel to get back to New York from California, Nico says he’s going to take the train instead.

But Hazel KNOWS someone is off. Knows Nico is hiding something. Something that causes her brothers eyes to tinge red when he hugs her, gives her a wobbly goodbye, and squeezes just a bit too tight. Something that causes the paper thin smile he gives her when she sees him off to board his train.

Something that inexplicably makes her sneak onto that train behind him.

Upon Nico putting his stuff away in the closet of his train compartment and finding a head of cinnamon brown curls say ‘ouch’ when he accidentally throws his suitcase on top of a stowaway sister, being mad is a bit of an understatement…

When Hazel knowingly questions why he’s so upset at her, Nico suddenly has no words.

They eat in the trains dining room, Chinese noodles with strangely large fortune cookies that they save for later.

Hazel doesn’t manage to get anything out of Nico as they sit side by side next to a window, watching the world whoosh by and making idle chatter that Nico only seems to be half heartedly replying to. Seeing her brothers zoned out gaze, thin hands shaking slightly, the ever present tinge of red and fear ringing his large dark eyes, Hazel knows this is something more than wrong.

If the bravest demigod she’s ever met looks this terrified, to her it can only mean one thing.

Her suspicion is proven correct when her and Nico crack open their fortune cookies from dinner and instead of a thin piece of white with a generic quote on the paper… two small black parchments with gold lettering come out instead.

Two warnings. From what god? They don’t know.

Hazel’s questioning dies on her tongue when she sees the thin lines of tears falling from her brothers eyes. She doesn’t ask him anything else that night, just wraps a hug around him as frail shoulders shake in her arms.

The next day Nico acts as if nothing happened and asks her if frank knows she’s okay which she sheepishly replies that he probably doesn’t even know where she is. Nico says the same about Will, and they decide to not tell their current boyfriends anything yet.

Yet…. After the incident of last night and the fortune cookie parchment mentioning a place that hazel has definitely heard of before, she knows exactly what Nico is planning.

And she’s not letting anything happen to him as long as she’s alive. Even if Nico insists on pretending Hazel doesn’t know anything.

After the long train ride and Nico questioning this one random passenger for an hour about the strange gaming device in his hands (a Nintendo lol) and the siblings chatting about mundane things happening in their camps; they finally are in Manhattan.

Hazel is now done with letting Nico pretend.

Before she can get a word out the word ‘No’ has already passed her brothers lips. They fight. Their first actual fight ever. One that ends in sobs wrecking through Nicos body and pangs of guilt, sadness, and anger piercing Hazels heart.

But one thing rises above them all:

Protectiveness.

After making up and Nico realizing Hazels not ever going to back down given the look in her eyes, he realizes he doesn’t have a say in this. She is coming with him whether he likes it or not. Fear plummets in his stomach.

After a trip to Target for food and supplies for the trip that neither of them currently want to think about because what they are planning to do is… insane. Literally insane. But as Nico remembers that feeling of the time he and Hazel shared their power that one time, a thread of hope starts to weave in his heart. Psychotic hope, but still hope nonetheless.

They shadowtravel to Central Park, Nico not feeling nearly as woozy with Hazels help. He also delightfully finds out that coffee seems to cure the fatigue from using that side of his powers lol.

They manage to open the doors of Orpheus’ by ‘borrowing’ a guys phone as they see him jog by, and play some random song called ‘into the dark’ (by death cab for cuties lol) from the guys playlist holding it up to the opening.

The song sounds like another warning. They both ignore it.

They travel down dark steps, hands clasped. They talk in the quiet empty smelling air, comfortable in the underground silence. Until faint light hits their faces. The ever constant line of fresh souls lead them to Charons boat where they are taken to the land of the dead.

They now must avoid detection from their father at all costs. Nicos not worried about Charon tattling on them to Hades since he doesn’t get paid enough anyway (lol). Nico takes Hazel to meet the trogs new home down in the underworld (one thing I liked in tsats).

Hazel adores them and their funny outfits.

The trogs tell Nico that his ‘really deep tunnel’ he requested they dig is almost done, and Hazel is hurt that Nicos been planning this so long without telling her or anybody. They make Nico and Hazel spend the night with them before they go and they play with the baby trogs and dance together, trying to forget what they’re going to do tomorrow. They fall asleep to the sound of baby trogs giggling next to them.

The next day Nico attempts to sneak away from Hazel one more time and Hazel explodes at him. Anger making her say some things she doesn’t want to and Nico apologizing profusely but saying he’s angry at himself for allowing her to come with him.

They are interrupted by the trogs leader saying the Tunnel Into the Dark is finished. They can feel the intense suction of The Pit even from several feet away. Memories of the first time Nico was sucked down threaten to spill over and embarrassingly makes him want to run and hide somewhere.

But he feels Hazels hand in his and that strange, wonderful feeling of intense power. And love. And then they are straddling a boat the trogs pull from the river of forgotten dreams (the Styx I think) and with one final push… they are falling.

On the boat it feels like they’re floating.

They fall for a very long time. But Nico notices it’s not as long as the first time. Or maybe it doesn’t feel that long bc someone is here beside him.

They use their shared geokinisis powers to make an enormous slide of bones, black dirt, and stone.

When the boat hits the ground Nico almost gets flung face first into the Phlegethon river. They drink from it and begin the search.

They devastatingly find out the voice was never Bob bc Bob was absorbed into tartarus’s breastplate (like in actual canon HoH) but that it was something else entirely.

Something that makes Nico perhaps the angriest he’s ever been.

They find Jason’s soul down there. Something that shocks both Nico and Hazel to the core. Nico thinks it’s a trick but soon can tell that the soul that is looking at him so coldly and unfamiliar is actually Jason.

A different Jason. One with hatred illuminating every thread of his form.

That’s why Nico didn’t know where Jason’s spirit had gone. It had been intercepted by something and Jason has turned into a mania like his mother. A spirit that fumes on hatred and forgotten dreams. The one thing he never wanted to be.

Nico cries over the horrid inevitable fate of Bob and promises that he will ALWAYS be remembered. He doesn’t have much time to think on this though because right now a livid son of Jupiter is rising higher and higher above Nico and Hazel, the threat is obvious.

In Jason’s manic state he blames Nico for not checking on him and seeing that he got a peaceful afterlife and greives the fact that Piper and Leo and Nico ‘never bothered’ to attend his funeral. He blames the gods, his father especially, for being unworthy of their demigod children. He blames the underworlds justice system not following up on his missing soul and dismissing his entire life as if it was nothing.

As if he was never a hero. Never anything at all.

Nicos is crushed, but realizes that Jason’s being manipulated by something. A dream demon that wanted to trap Nico the entire time in order to consume his energy/power and shadow travel out of his prison and into the mortal world bc it would’ve taken him years to get out otherwise.

The dream demon used its powers to intercept Jason’s soul thanks to Caligulas cursed blade that had killed him, and reached inside his mind to find out about Nico and figure out the best way to get Nico to come back to his worst nightmare.

And now that Hazel and Nico are both there that’s double the power to consume.

Turns out the entire thing was simply about a selfish monster playing with demigods. A tale as old as the beginning of mythology.

The demon taunts them saying he used Jason - son of the King of the Gods - as a little toy in order to easily bring his meal to him. Remarking how easy and quick it was to bait someone like Nico.

Someone who can never leave someone behind.

And Hazel, how easy it was to get her to follow her brother. Taunting that she’s just as stupid, gullible, and selfless…

The children of the underworld snap.

And all Hades breaks loose. Signaling to every monster within a 100 mile radius to know exactly where they are.

They battle together but the waves and waves of monsters is just too extreme. On the brink of inevitable death, a certain goddess appears.

The one who gave them the warnings in the form of fortune cookies. The one that sensed Nicos need for vengeance.

They escape with Nemesis help, but she wants something equally valuable in return for helping Nico and Hazel escape. Nico breaks down and agrees to relinquish all of his precious memories of Bianca and his past life in return for Hazel and a new possible future. A true balance in his heart.

Choosing Hazel over memories of Bianca makes Hazel cry and they bond stronger.

Strangely enough Nico becomes happier without the constant grief of his older sister on his shoulder.

In a way choosing to let her go the same way she did when she chose to be with the hunters.

And then once again when she chose reincarnation.

They still have to worry about Jason though who is constantly causing blood thunderstorms across Tartarus’s sky and wrecking havoc all over the place.

(Also it would be so funny to see Jason literally just… chase Nico and Hazel all over the place… flying after them screaming while they run for their lives bc they can’t see or hear due to the bloodstorm & huge booms of thunder and shit lol.)

Hazel manages to trap Jason in a kaleidoscope of his own storm and shadow with her mist magic and her and Nico manage to shadowtravel him to the ghostly boat that will lead them out. She lets him out but he’s struggling so much in his metal binds that Nico has to knock him out with a punch to the face bc he’s the only one that can touch ghosts.

They ferry up the river Acheron out of Tartarus and chat about what the fuck just happened down there.

Hades awaits them when they arrive.

He’s very angered that his two only living children disobeyed his strict order of not going down there, but relinquishes it eventually when he realizes how tired and beat up his kids look and praises them instead. Hades turns to Nico and states that his older sister would be proud of him. Which Nico replies with confusion saying he doesn’t have an older sister which saddens hades as he figures out what Nico had to give away.

He offers them both something they want.

Anything.

Hazel wishes for Jason to be cured of his mania, and Nico wishes to give Jason back a chance at life. As he still had so much work to do for the gods and goddesses that did not have shrines and action figures to respect them.

Both of these things surprise hades but he grudgingly does so (bc Jason is a son of Jupiter/zeus) saying that Nico and Hazel are indeed very special children.

Although Hades honors Nicos wish he can’t simply let a soul leave the underworld without a final test (hazel being the exception) and does something he did thousands of years ago with another hero begging for his wife’s soul back.

He tells Nico and Hazel they can lead Jason out of the underworld but only if they don’t look back at him. Across the fields of asphodel, across cerebus’ cavern, across the river styx, the journey on Charons boat, back up the many steps that lead to the mortal world…. If they look back once their friend is gone forever. Again…

They distract themselves with a deck of mythomagic cards Hazel stole from Frank (cause she wanted to know why her brother and boyfriend liked the game so much) much to Nico’s embarrassed delight. Nico’s so into explaining the game to Hazel, that the intense need to check if Jason’s still behind them dissipates a bit.

They only notice they’re outside when a wave of sunlight blinds them both and a large figure grabs them from behind.

Jason hugs the daylights out of Nico & Hazel crying like a little kid as months of memories of torment in Tartarus resurface into guilt.

Hades thinks it’s slightly amusing to see a tall muscular son of Jupiter being consoled by his two smaller children as he mentally watches the scene play out from his godly throne.

Nico says he kept the plans of the shrines Jason wanted to build and says maybe he can help with decorating (lol)

I’m gonna have to get an artist to draw a fancomic of this to heal my soul.

Also…. What the fuck did I just write?

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multifariousqueer · 1 year

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hi hi, How about 42 Miles x reader who's finally had enough, see's the way he's been isolating her and pushing off or shoving off her friends, and beacuse she knows what he's capble of she runs off from her parents house to crash at a friends with a plan to get the hell out of new yourk, she blocked all contact, stopped getting money from him and in hiding!

Sorry thats a bit much.

Hey love! Imma do this hc style bc why not 🤷🏽‍♀️

Warnings: toxic, implied smut, kidnapping, MILES BEING A TOXIC ASSHOLE, OMG THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC, yandere behavior

Miles!42 x done!reader

he can tell you’re about to treat but he hangs onto the promise you made to stick by him through thick and thin

Your friends and family hate him and they don’t speak to you anymore because of your antics and your soft spot for him

“Y/n hes a horrible person and he’s gonna get you killed or worse” “no he wouldn’t, he would never do that to me, Miles loves me and you can’t see that because you have always hated him” “Y/n we hate him because HES TAKING YOU FROM US. HES DOING THIS ON PURPOSE AND HE KNOWS THAT” “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE"

They did exactly that.

You cried to Miles who just petted your head and said

“It won’t matter, Mi Corazon. They’re just jealous, you have me and thats all you need, okay mi amor” “si papi"

That’s all you would say to him

You felt yourself slowly losing your sense of identity. You didn’t even recognize yourself, he completely removed the old parts of you that were independent and replaced them with someone new. He stripped you and rebuilt you into his toy

He tried to make up for this by buying you things and making love to you

Eventually, you had everything you ever wanted and then some but it wasn’t the same

You find out he’s the prowler and thats where he gets the money to get you stuff but you just don’t care anymore

“So, ma? como de sientas?” “it’s fine, Miles. I don’t care. Just don’t get hurt” “that’s all?” “...yeah."

He wanted to say something else but he bit his tongue

For a while, he thought someone was influencing you to break up with him so he followed you around; he went to your favorite stores, your classes, your job and just stalked you

Secretly put an AirTag on your bag

Your family moved to (insert state here) and you were tempted to go with them but you knew Miles wouldn’t let you

He managed to convince you that they didn’t love you anymore

“Mi amor, if they truly loved you, they wouldn’t have left so easily and they would’ve tried to reach out"

They tried but Miles managed to connect your phone to his so he could see any texts or calls you got, he deleted their messages and declined their calls

You decide enough is enough and you leave

After a heated argument, you packed your shit and left. Miles was pissed

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” “I don’t know, hopefully somewhere better than here”

he would beg and plead and when that wouldn’t work, he would gaslight the fuck out of you

“Fine. Leave. I could have another bitch like you by the morning. Also, your family probably doesn’t even wanna see you fr so ill see you in three days” “okay”

He would grab you and try to make you stay by staring at you and reminding you of your previous promises

“What happened to forever, mami? Was that just pillow talk?” “what happened to I only want the best for you?"

Is convinced he was only doing what was best for you.

When you left New York, you smiled for the first time in months, enjoying the new scenery and scent

you changed your hair, clothes, makeup, phone and number and got rid of anything that reminded you of Miles

You slowly rebuilt your relationship with your family and were genuinely happy for the first time in a while

One night, you were outside going for a walk when you felt a strong pair of arms around you

You tried to scream but it was muffled

You felt a stabbing sensation in your neck and everything faded to black

“you thought you could escape me?"

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales headcannons #miles morales #miles x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #earth42!miles #earth 42 #miles!prowler #for you #spiderverse #the prowler

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gorgonwrites · 10 months

Text

still loving you, part 1

geto suguru x fem!reader

in which your best friend shoko takes you to the bar your ex-boyfriend is performing at tonight.

wc: 2.3k-ish

author's note: i wrote a geto fic- someone fucking sedate me. i love that man w my whole heart. ps, i swear i will learn how to write a one shot one day. i am nothing if not a slut for the buildup. this is inspired by the song still loving you by the scorpions bc it's a GOOD FUCKIN SONG

tags/ CW: sfw but will be nsfw eventually, fem!reader, second chance romance, modern AU, bassist!geto, reader broke getos heart but we'll make it right don't worry, reader/ shoko/ geto/ gojo are bffs duh, slowburn bc i can't fucking help myself, reader smokes a cigarette or two bc i like the effect SMOKING IS BAD 4 U ok??

“Was it really necessary to bring me along for this? I could be home with my cat right now.” your best friend pulled you to her favorite bar, laughing as you continued to grumble.

“You never leave your apartment, y/n. Have some fun for once!” Shoko continued to tug you along until you were at the door of The Sorcerer’s Lounge. If you were completely honest you didn’t hate this place- it was more speakeasy than dive bar, and it was one of the more peaceful places Shoko liked to bring you.

“I do leave my apartment. I work, I go grocery shopping, and I sit and read in the park across town. So there.” You stuck your tongue out at her. She was your opposite but you adored her all the same. While she liked to party and drink herself into oblivion, you liked to stay in and enjoy your own company. You finished your party phase while you were in college- thinking about it made your chest twinge. “You know this isn’t really my thing anymore. I just made an exception tonight because I like it here.” Shoko had mentioned a show happening tonight, and you generally enjoyed the entertainment that the lounge offered.

“Well you look fucking devastating, y/n, maybe we should make this your thing again?” Shoko was too hopeful, though her effort made you giggle. She took your hand and had you twirl in front of her, making the thigh-high slit of your dress threaten to show just too much. You did miss late nights like this, but it simultaneously felt foreign to you. There was something- someone- missing. You shook the thought away. As you both made your way through the crowd to the bar you saw a familiar head of white hair, and you stopped in your tracks. Shoko still had a firm grasp on your wrist, and your sudden halt nearly had her fall over.

“Shoko, who’s playing tonight? I didn’t have the time to check.” actually you hadn’t cared to check, but you didn’t think it would’ve been your ex-boyfriend’s band. You looked at her sharply and she grimaced. Please, no.

“Oh, I ah, I don’t remember!” She smiled sheepishly and tried to laugh the question off. Just as you were about to turn around and march out of the bar, you were engulfed in a tight hug.

“Y/N! No way! Shoko you didn’t say she was coming too! Fuck dude, it’s been way too long. How are you?” You were smashed into Gojo’s chest, unable to respond. He held you tightly and laughed, a familiar and bright sound that always made you smile in the past. Right now, though, you wanted to hurtle yourself into the sun. Of all the nights you agreed to join Shoko, why did it have to be tonight? You managed to wiggle your way out of Gojo’s grip and huffed in response, trying not to take your agitation out on the man. After a breath, you were able to respond.

“Gojo, it’s so good to see you.” you smiled gently and you meant it. He looked good. You weren’t sure if it was possible but he seemed even taller than when you’d seen him last, and he still had the same stupid sunglasses that he used to wear. “It’s been five years, I think? I won’t lie, I haven't really had the time to keep track.” A lie. Yes you were busy, but you knew exactly how long it had been since you had seen him and his best friend. The four of you had been inseparable during your college years, a rag-tag quartet against the rest of the world. You did everything together, until suddenly you didn’t. It hurt. It still hurts.

“Oh, shit, I have to tell Suguru you came!” Gojo spun on his heel and ran across the bar and out of sight.

“Fuck, Gojo, don’t!” you yelled after him and tried to make your way in the same direction, but it was useless. He had a habit of appearing and disappearing, and you knew you wouldn’t find him. You slowly turned to your best friend, your eyes blazing. “Care to explain this shit to me?” Shoko shrank under your gaze but seemed to recover quickly.

“Gojo reached out to me a few days ago to tell me they’d be in town and to tell me about their gig tonight. I thought it would be nice for the four of us to catch up.” you could hear the pain in her voice. “I thought you were over everything by now, y/n. You never bring Geto up anymore. I don’t even remember the last time you said his name.” you groaned at your ex-boyfriend being mentioned, and pinched the bridge of your nose to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“You know I adore you, Shoko.” you breathed, “But why did you think this was a good idea? My breakup with Geto shattered our friend group. I’m not sure if it really will be a nice thing for us to catch up.” though you had been surprised by Gojo’s response to seeing you. “We’ve all gone our separate ways in life. I’m not sure we really need to dwell on the past.” you had built a life for yourself, and you were proud of that fact. Yes, there were lonely nights and moments that you craved a closeness that you’d only ever experienced with Geto. But you made a life nonetheless, and you weren’t willing to mess it up because Shoko wanted to live in the past. “He broke my heart, Shoko. I think a part of me is still recovering.”

“You broke his too, you know.” Shoko said firmly. “If you weren’t so fucking stubborn you would’ve seen that. Leave if you want to. I’m going to support our boys.” Our boys. She stalked off, leaving you breathless. You slumped into a chair at the bar and ordered a shot. If you were going to stay, you needed something to take the edge off.

. . .

“She’s here with Shoko! I saw! She looks fucking incredible, by the way. Damn, it was good to see her face. There’s something different about her, but she’s still y/n. I can tell.” Gojo continued to ramble on about you, giving Geto a massive fucking headache. He didn’t expect Shoko to make it, and he definitely hadn’t expected to hear that you were with her. His heart leapt in his chest, agitating him even further.

“Satoru, I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to wring your neck.” he slumped back onto the sofa in their small changing room and scrubbed his hands over his face. “This has you and Shoko written all over it.” Shoko and Gojo loved plotting together, whether it was going to be messy or not. They just seemed to enjoy the ride.

“Suguru, come on. You don’t fucking shut up about her. In all the years it's been, I know you’re still crazy about her. And I know you want to see her, so get over yourself. She showed up, whether you like it or not. I don’t think she’d just abandon Shoko because you’re here.” Geto knew you wouldn’t leave her, so he was going to have to suck it up. “We’re on in thirty. Get your shit together.” Geto stared up at the ceiling and tried to remember your face. You never posted on social media, and Shoko rarely had photos of you up anymore. You had basically just disappeared one day, and it made the ache in his chest get worse.

. . .

“Two espresso martinis, please.” You had taken two shots, and after letting them take effect you were finally ready to face Shoko again. You carefully carried the drinks through the crowd and into the lounge area, carefully searching through the tables and booths to find your best friend. You found her in the front row, stress smoking her cigarettes. “Those’ll kill you, you know.” you smirked, and she angrily looked up at you.

“Hmph. The stress from how stubborn you are already has me halfway there.” she eyed the drinks in your hand. “Though, a drink might add a few more years back to my lifespan.” You placed your drinks on the table and sat down beside her, wondering when the show would start.

“I really don’t know if I can do this.” you did your best to hide the tremor in your voice but Shoko noticed, like she always did. She pushed your hair behind your ear and smiled.

“You can, though. We’re just supporting our boys. No harm in that, right?” There really was no harm in it, but it made you nervous all the same. Your breakup with Geto had been entirely underwhelming, at best. You knew you had been growing apart for some time, and your parents never approved of him to begin with. He wanted to travel and make music, free as a bird. You wanted to stay and work in the city, carving out your own little slice of paradise where you were. He wanted you to come with him, you wanted him to stay. It would never, ever work. So you called it quits one day, plain and simple. He didn’t put up a fight though, and it had solidified your suspicions of him getting bored with you. You left and had tried your best not to look back after that.

“Earth to y/n, can you hear me?” Shoko waved her hand in your face. “I said they’ll be on soon. Are you even listening to me?” you had to give yourself a shake to snap out of it. This was about to be a long fucking night if you couldn’t get a grip.

“Give me one of those.” you snatched the pack of cigarettes from Shoko and lit one, taking a long drag before you exhaled in her face. You continued to take long drags until you finished and grabbed another.

“What the fuck happened to these will kill you?” Shoko snatched the pack out of your hands and stuffed it into her purse out of reach.

“The stress from how stubborn I am already has me halfway there.” you parroted back to her and lit the second one, winking. “It’s fine, I won’t have another. I have some semblance of self control, unlike someone I know.” Shoko rolled her eyes and grumbled, but immediately perked up when the lights began to dim. You had the opposite reaction, tensing up and shrinking into your seat as you smoked. Your best friend noticed though, as always, and looped her arm through yours.

“We’re just supporting them, like I said a little while ago. No harm, no foul. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.” She gave you a reassuring smile, and you couldn’t help but lean into her touch. Shoko had been your rock through the breakup, and continued to support you even now. You could feel how excited she was, and admittedly her excitement was always contagious. You relaxed and watched as everyone came out on stage.

Gojo of course came out first, that damn show pony. His boisterous attitude and loud mouth always annoyed you, and he always did the most to get the attention he wanted. You love him half to death though, and he knows it. He got all of you into trouble so many times you had lost count. A blonde with glasses came out next, a new addition to the band it seemed. You had never seen him before. A short man with cropped black hair and a huge grin came out next, and you recognized him from school though you couldn’t remember his name. Haibara? Something like that. That left Geto for last, as usual.

You had forgotten just how beautiful he was. He walked out with a small smile on his face and waved to the crowd, and you couldn’t help the annoyance bubbling in your chest as the screaming got louder when he took his spot onstage. He had more tattoos than you remembered, and his hair was much longer. He wasn’t wearing it up in a bun, which felt unusual to you. Instead his black hair cascaded down his back and over his shoulders, framing his face. Was his bottom lip pierced now? He was too far away for you to be sure. You studied him carefully, drinking in the image in front of you. While everyone else got settled you watched as he began to scan the crowd for someone. You took another drag from your cigarette, wondering who he was so intent on finding. His eyes continued to wander until they found you. You locked eyes with him and tried not to choke as you exhaled, and leaned farther into Shoko’s embrace. He looked as shocked as you felt- your heart was about to jump up and out of your fucking throat. You could barely see the corners of his mouth turn up, and he raised his eyebrows before he finally looked away. You knew that stupid look. That was the ‘and what do we have here?’ look he always had on when he relentlessly teased you. The look was enough to make you scowl and huff, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Geto spared you another glance, and seeing you in such a state made him break out in a ridiculous grin before he laughed to himself. He loved teasing you.

“He seems really happy to see you.” Shoko whispered in your ear. She huddled close to you, letting you lean into her as much as you needed.

“Yeah, well, no one said I was happy to see him.” your best friend let out a huff, letting you know you weren’t fooling her. You were hardly fooling yourself. Truthfully, seeing him after all this time made you feel like you were floating. You could only remember his face glassed over and uninterested, so seeing him happy made your heart leap. He loved being on stage and performing, and you loved watching him do it. The show began and, as always, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #satosugu #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #geto drabble #jjk geto

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kadextra · 11 months

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Bad and Foolish are actually two sides of the same coin

it’s how foolish deals with bad’s pranks like it’s any other regular day, this is just the way they are, how they have been for years. it doesn’t matter if others don’t understand. like how foolish knew bad didn’t do anything to mr. mustard, just jumped on the bit of acting sus to mess with him

it’s how during the Slap competition they were on the exact same train of thought as the other - even with a huge block in communication (bad couldn’t hear foolish) bad still knew exactly what foolish was thinking. watching both POVs simultaneously was crazy bc some parts felt like actual conversation

They accurately psychoanalyzed each other many times too:

“I know foolish wouldn’t be happy winning this way.”

“I know bad is getting tired, he’s trying to distract himself.”

Not to mention how with zero communication, they mutually agreed on the rules for their game. And how the two are so very aware of how stubborn the other is, the battle legitimately would’ve kept going for hours if not for outside interference. Their combined power was too overwhelming and forced the server to be shut down to stop them.

all of this just shows how strong landduo’s friendship is, they are best friends. born from the old days when they’d spend hundreds of hours with idle chats and silly pranks in the desert, or sometimes becoming rocks- these two know each other’s quirks and behavior so well and their dynamic is fascinating

As a day 1 landduo enjoyer I’m so thankful they were invited to the qsmp together and others now get to experience their craziness <3

#qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp foolish #landduo #these characters are sooo two immortals who hate and despise each other #but they have stuck together for centuries. because they truly love and care for each other #thinks about ‘are you yourself’ and ‘what about you bad’

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lab-trash · 7 months

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So, uh, I was reading my Milton x Jack google doc, and I came across this. And I'm pretty sure I haven't posted it. So here ya go. And it's a long one, so strap in.

SHIP QUESTIONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet? - Jack kicked ass on Milton’s behalf

What was their first impression of each other? - Jack thought Milton was sort of dorky-seeming. That he would like to be strong, but never had really the real opportunity to do it with his skinny little bones and muscles. - Milton obviously was extremely impressed with Jack, no surprise there. We see it. We know it.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? - I think that Mika would see it like… so quick. She would pretend she thought they were already dating just to nudge them along.

Who felt romantic feelings first? - Jack. I am 100% on the side that Jack was a complete mess about his feelings for Milton while Milton had no clue that either of them were queer • Jack had a big ol’ gay crisis, fite me

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? - Absolutely, both of them. Like, we see it in the show; Jack has the most internalised homophobia a man has ever had. Like, he looks so uncomfortable when he’s with Kim, but like he’s obligated to, y’know?

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? - Telling Jack: He’d deny it, he would flat-out deny it. - Telling Milton: I feel like he’d get really confused and flustered about it.

What would their lives be like if they had never met? - As we see in the show, it is not pretty. But I also chose to believe that it would actually not at all be like that. - I mean, come on, even if Jack didn’t join Wasabi, I don’t think he’d turn into a black dragon. He literally hates his cousin’s morals so much, and he’s a black dragon. I know that Kai became a black dragon only halfway through the show so if Jack hadn’t become a Wasabi then maybe Kai wouldn’t become a black dragon, but they still have the same morals. - I think it’d be a lot more like Kickin’ It On Our Own. - Jack would become committed to skating, a skatepark would’ve really been built at Jack’s petition and Kim would’ve never found the vole bc they weren’t friends. - Milton wouldn’t have dropped out of school and become whatever tf he was in the wonderful life episode, he would’ve switched to Swathmore. • Note to self, write a version of the Swathmore AU where they don’t meet until Milton goes to Swathmore.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? - Milton. I feel like there are multiple points where it could happen, but Milton is always the one to start it. Here are some of my favourite points for their relationship to start.

Wrath of Swan. Milton comes back after dropping off Carrie and they dance and they’re gay.

My Left Foot. Milton feels all sort of warm that Jack is encouraging him to quit football if it makes him happy and Milton kisses him before going out onto the field. They don’t talk about it until the after-party

Milton claims that kiss is the only reason he made that goal

New Jack City. This is the one with Carson (BooBoo Stewart) if you don’t remember. After the fight, Milton approaches Jack saying that he feels guilty and that he couldn’t believe that he didn’t trust Jack before considering his feelings. This one is more of an accidental reveal

You may also remember that as the episode where Milton slapped Jack’s ass. That has nothing to do with the episode choice, I just felt like mentioning it. I don’t think they’re into that stuff, but I do think it made them both feel awkward in a flustered way.

Kickin’ It On Our Own. Milton admits that he didn’t really like continuing his life without Jack in it.

Meet the McKrupnicks. I don’t even know exactly how it would happen, I just like the idea of it.

Two Dates and a Funeral. Milton takes Jack’s hand on Mount Seaford and it snowballs from there.

Mama Mima. Milton apologises for causing all sorts of drama during the news thingy.

School of Jack. After the show, instead of hugging, Milton and Jack kiss.

The Return of Spyfall/The Boys are Back in Town. Grey is really observant about Milton and Jack’s feelings about each other and peer pressures Milton to ask him out. It works.

RV There Yet? Milton yells a love confession off the cliff before he knows Jack is alive.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? - Yes, but I feel like it’d be often interrupted by Rudy, Jerry, Phil, Joan, etc.

What was their first kiss like? - Oh boy, was it awkward. Their redo was better, and they consider that their first.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? - I’d like to think they were each other’s first boyfriends. Not their first relationship, but first boyfriends specifically.

What’s their height difference? Age difference? - I don’t think they have much of a difference between those things. Like, they have a size difference, since Jack has more mass, while Milton is kind of just a stick man.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? - Jack’s mom is definitely happy that Milton is Jack’s partner, she likes him very much. Milton gave her his tamale recipe and she made a spicier version for her and Jack (it’s cannon Jack eats spicy food without even flinching lmao) - It is my personal belief that Jack doesn’t really see his dad, so I’m skipping past his dad’s opinion on Jack - Milton’s dad is trying his best to be an ally, so he is automatically supportive of their relationship albeit a bit awkward. He does like that Jack protects Milton though. - Milton’s mother is… Well, she either doesn’t know their dating and approves of their friendship, or she knows their dating and doesn’t bc she’s homophobic imo. - Jilian likes Jack. She definitely likes messing with him in regards to Milton, who we’ve seen she’s very protective of, but she does like Jack. Jack is mildly afraid of her, for good reason. - The McKrupnicks all like Jack, it’s very much one of those like… when he enters the room, they’re like “Jack!🍻”

Who takes the lead in social situations? - Jack. Well, most of the time. If it’s regarding their relationship, then it’s Milton, as he’s much more comfortable with his sexuality than Jack is.

Who gets jealous easier? - I think it’s about the same. But it’s different kinds of jealousy. Jack gets like… jealous in a sad possessive way, while Milton gets jealous in an anxious way. Does that make sense? - Like, we see him get jealous of Carson and his friendship with the Wasabi Warriors, and he doesn’t really get possessive in an angry ‘mine, only mine,’ way, he gets jealous in a ‘but… mine… ;(‘ way. Milton is afraid Jack will leave him, and I’m counting that as jealousy.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? - I think that neither, for the most part. Jack is way too flustered to do that, in public or not, and Milton is afraid of getting caught. But sometimes he isn’t. And it is a mess for Jack.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first? - Jack, but mostly because Milton didn’t want to push Jack to say anything.

What are their primary love languages? - I think they’re both cuddly bitches, but Jack also likes giving gifts and casual praise.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines? - Both, but like… as a joke. They tell each other pick-up lines for fun and laugh at them.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? - They cuddle as often as they can, even during the beginning of their relationship, though it’s usually private. - During the beginning of their relationship, they absolutely do not engage in PDA because Jack feels bashful at even the idea of that, but once they get into the later months of their relationship, you’ll pretty much not see them not touching each other. • Jerry complains about it a lot; calls them clingy.

Who initiates kisses? - Milton at first, then Jack, then both. Most often, rather.

Who’s the big and little spoon? - They trade because they both have weird relationships with their masculinity.

What are their favourite things to do together? - Karate, obviously. But they also enjoy bowling. And sometimes Jack will play guitar and Milton will sing. - Jack also makes sure to be in every Swords and Magic game once they start dating.

Who’s better at comforting the other? - I think Milton for Jack, but that’s mostly because when Jack has lows, they’re really fucking low, meanwhile Milton is used to the hills and valleys and doesn’t really need to be comforted because he’s already got coping mechanisms.

Who’s more protective? - Jack 1000%. Like, do I even have to explain?

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? - Milton prefers physical. Jack prefers receiving physical, but likes praising Milton any chance he gets— especially when/since people push him around.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? - I don’t know, I haven’t thought of it. But Jack’s favourite song ever is Nowhere to Go because Milton sings it.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? - Milton has a habit of just varying Jack’s name. So like Jack-Jack, Jackie, Jackson, Jack Attack, etc. - Jack calls Milton regular pet names + kitten. • No one else is allowed to call Milton those things.

Who remembers the little things? - Jack, he likes remembering little details about Milton’s life and hobbies.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes? - I feel like it’s just sort of something that’s brought up casually. Milton would bring it up, but they’d decide on it together.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? - Milton plans their wedding, obviously. It’s awesome. Jack nearly cries during their vows. - The Wasabi Warriors (and the honoraries), Izzy Gunnar, and some of their family.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? - I think they’d foster kids, and consider Sam like… their nephew.

Do they have any pets? - I love the idea of them having a rabbit.

Who’s the stricter parent? - Milton.

Who worries the most? - Jack

Who kills the bugs in the house? - Whoever doesn’t spot it. The person who spots it is in a stunned state, so the other has to swoop in.

How do they celebrate holidays? - They usually like to just spend time together, since they’d both be off work. For things like birthdays and christmas, I think they’d have both a private celebration and one with the Wasabis.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? - Hmmm… Okay, I think that they’d be the sort of couple who both get up and be productive pretty quickly. But on days when they’re supposed to be productive and he just doesn’t feel like it, I feel like Jack would ask Milton back to bed, and on days they have off from work, Milton would ask Jack back to bed.

Who’s the better cook? - Every urge to say Milton, but that one episode where he bakes that cake has me torn, but I have to remember Invasion of the Ghost Pirates. So Milton can cook, but Jack has a weird secret talent for baking. He doesn’t like doing it, but if Milton asks real sweet-like, he will.

Who likes to dance? - I have not watched the show in a hot minute, ngl. So I’m gonna say that I can be totally wrong on this, but I feel like they both do, in the comfort of privacy. But I like the idea of them sort of just swaying together while Milton is cooking, or when they’re tired.

#kickin it #mack #jack x milton #jack brewer #milton krupnick #milton krupnick x jack brewer #jack brewer x milton krupnick #i nearly posted this to my musical theatre blog #that would've killed me i think #disney #disney plus #disney show

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intothemultifandom · 2 years

Text

in spite of what critics are saying about the last few episodes of the the walking dead’s 11th and final season, there were a few things that just hit different especially with the finale:

SPOILERS FOR TWD “REST IN PEACE” 11.24!!

daryl barricading judith in the hospital the same way shane did to rick in 01x01 – like father, like daughter and even brother because he also carried her the same way rick carried carl when he got shot

actually, daryl carrying judith into the hospital to save her life vs how he carried beth out after she was killed. the FEAR he must’ve felt given the last time he carried someone in/out from the hospital.

any scene between them + carol (keeping this short bc i can write a whole novel about their scenes)

luke dying & being comforted by magna, yumiko, connie & kelly (his og group) during his final moments; even though he wasn’t seen for most of the season, dan folger’s acting + that of nadia hilker, eleanor matsuura, lauren ridloff & angel theory was TOP-TIER

people always die in twd, but up until luke, the newish members of the group didn’t really suffer a sudden and harsh loss like the group from earlier seasons until now

that’s why his death + the group’s raw grief hit different when you consider how this is the first time we’ve seen them have to mourn one of their own so suddenly and with walkers literally banging on their doors

the team up of eugene porter & gabriel stokes = the two characters who, at one point of the story, were the weakest and most cowardly members of the group. i mean, the parallels of how they started vs. how they ended are insane:

eugene, who lied to abraham and rosita about knowing how to cure the infection almost making himself a martyr by telling the truth about the common wealth’s corruption, and

gabriel, who locked his congregation outside his church to die being the first to open the gates for everyone even when pamela’s people had their guns pointed at him

if twd did anything right, it was the development of these two characters

even if i didn’t know christian serratos chose rosita’s ending, i still would’ve thought she had a fitting end as one of the original (and last) big hitters for rick’s group on the road

it wasn’t painful and gory like abraham or glenn, shocking like sasha’s or even bittersweet like carl’s in the midst of war– rosita dies a dignified and otherwise peaceful death after all the bloodshed is said & done

she sees her people are safe, knows her daughter’s in good hands and finally lays to rest after fighting on the frontlines for so long

even with her gone, her final interaction with eugene at her side really cements that he is her and abraham’s legacy because “i’m glad it was you at the end”

(someone make baby rosie looking up to older coco because her mom was her namesake + uncle eugene canon right now)

this post-war celebration dinner mirroring the what-if dream dinner from 7x01 about what could’ve been (credit to this article for the pic: here) also makes rosita’s death so poignant to me because negan had likened the dream as something that wouldn’t ever happen

it’s not the same exact group and it wasn’t exactly her dream, but the sentiment remains the same

in the end, peace was possible for the alexandrians after all & i’m so glad rosita got to see this before she went & re-joined the others who are no longer at the table

negan & maggie now established as two sides of the same coin: motives, beliefs and and now shared trauma of being unable to stop their partner from being killed (or almost killed, in negan’s case) as they’re about to start a family

maggie was never going to forgive him for what he did, but that in itself gives so much more substance to their spin-off and i can’t wait to see it happen

rick “we are the walking dead” grimes + michonne “it’s true. forever” grimes – welcome back.

#the walking dead #twd #season finale #episode 24: rest in peace #twd 11x24 #the walking dead spoilers #twd spoilers #rick grimes #rosita espinosa #eugene porter #gabriel stokes #yumiko #magna #luke #connie #daryl dixon #judith grimes #negan #maggie

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bunny-rambles · 2 years

Note

Hello!

Since requests are open at the moment, I'd like to request something with Rubedo and a reader who isn't as openly nice at least in their tone of voice? Like they have a bad case of resting bitch face, they're generally a little grumpy no matter what and their harsh tone can make them sound like they're angry even when they're not which makes it difficult for Ruby to read them properly. As such this leaves him constantly tense and stressed out because he constantly assumes he's on thin ice (poor boy's getting serious PTSD flashbacks to Gold) and it isn't until he has a full blown panic attack or breakdown that they realize the issue and start making an effort to change so he feels safer? They also helped him through the panic attack.

Reading your Rubedo fic has ignited smth in me and I am loving it!

🐈‍⬛-anon, naming myself because I love your writing and will definitely come back for more so might as well.

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“Smile for me.”

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characters; Rubedo, gn reader

cw/tw; minor mentions of injuries, graphic mention of panic attacks, Rubedo is kinda traumatised by Gold, moody reader, crying

word count; 2K

notes; for 🐈‍⬛ anon, I was so inspired when I got this request bc that sounds exactly like me, I’m so bad expressing emotion and I seem moody or angry but I’m not at all - sorry if this isn’t what you expected !! Let me know if you like it <33

Please reblog if you like this!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were… Difficult to understand.

Even when receiving gifts, you would always bluntly mumble a ‘thanks’ before putting the present away, no matter who the person was. It was only when he caught you staring warmly at said gift when you thought no one was looking that he realised that maybe you weren’t so cold hearted as he once thought. In fact, he knew deep down he was right. Why else would you have taken him in when he had nowhere else to go?

You showed your affection through doing things when they weren’t asked of you, or making him food if he seemed troubled. You weren’t the kind to have a big smile on their face and wrap their arms around him, telling him how much you appreciate him. He knew most of the time, it was nothing personal. He hadn’t exactly figured out why you act this way. Emotional walls, or just a difficulty to express emotion all together? He wasn’t sure, and perhaps he never would be.

You felt distant even when you were right next to him, with that same cold stare of indifference and that frigid attitude. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed you wielded an icy vision. Even when the two of you were alone, you always seemed so… He didn’t even know how to describe it. Stony faced, hands crossed over your chest like you were impatient for him to just stop talking whenever he conversed with you. But when he stopped, you urged with that monotone voice of yours to keep going, to continue his ramblings about whatever interested him so much. Even with such a piercing gaze, there was a hidden softness, a quiet sweetness to you.

Once he had tried to bring it up to you, only for you to shut down when did so. Ah, so you were definitely aware of it, and when your arms tensed around yourself, he knew that perhaps it was a sore spot. He had hurriedly apologised, telling you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you, something you would tell him when he you thought he was asleep - when in the serenity of the night, you would pour your heart out to him - still with that unchanging voice of yours, but the words you spoke were more than enough for him. He didn’t want you to change, he liked you for you - but sometimes, there were days he just couldn’t handle it, and that went unsaid.

There were days that he would look at you and he wouldn’t see you anymore. Instead, he would see a flash of blonde, a permanent scowl, the same impatient body language. And those were the days he would avoid you like the plague. Even when you called for him that dinner was ready, he didn’t show his face. Those days would hurt you both, and the cracks in his hopeful mindset would only worsen. Those days were few and far between, and those were the only days you would show some form of emotion on your face. Your brows furrowed and your lips downturned even more than the usual frown you had. It was far from the smile he dreamt of on your face, but he cherished it just as much. Of course you weren’t /her/, you were you - a statue of ice with a heart of gold. He saw it every day in the small things you would do for him. You brushed his hair if he seemed tired, listened for hours about whatever was on his mind, helped him with anything that he needed. You would do anything for him, he need only ask. (He heard that once while your hand threaded through his golden locks when you thought he had been long gone in slumber). When he remembered that, he would be fine, and you two would go back to how you always were.

Today was different.

It was no secret that the commissions you took on were starting to get more and more difficult. You were a skilled fighter, that was for sure, but some of the things you were taking on weren’t one person jobs. Although not much had changed from most people's perspective, you were tired. When you came home, you usually had the decency to try to make small talk with the blonde living with you, but now it seemed you didn’t have the energy to even manage that.

And when you did talk?

Neither of you had ever argued, but because of how irritable you had become, you didn’t try to soften the hardness of your tone, the cold words pouring out of your mouth. Thankfully, it was never directed at him, instead he only heard it being directed to whoever commissioned you - but something about the way you spoke set him on edge. He knew if he looked at you, he wouldn’t be in this comfortable home you had made for each other, but instead a merciless terrain of snow.

He stayed away from you to avoid that.

But when you shoved the door open, stalking in with frustration practically dripping off of you, he couldn’t just leave you alone in that state - even if he knew how it would end. Your footing was a little off now that he really looked, your clothes all torn and dirty. It didn’t take a genius to realise the commission had not gone well.

He winced with each thudding footstep you took, the book in his hands falling out of his unsteady grasp. No. You did not need him to fall apart just because you reminded him of her. Instead, he tried his best to calm himself before making his way over to where you were in the kitchen.

“Do you need any help?” He asked quietly when he saw you rummaging around in the cabinet, no doubt looking for the first aid kit.

“No.”

“You should sit down-“

“I don’t need any help. Go away.” There was that wall again. No matter how many times he tried, you just wouldn’t take it down for him.

“Y/N-“

“Just leave me alone.” You bit out, one of your fists clenching around the bandage you had managed to find. He swallowed quietly, retracting his hovering hands he was about to place on your shoulders to get you to move.

“Okay.” He whispered, before turning and leaving to go to his room. He shut the door quietly, back pressed up against it before he slid down it with his head in his hands. Jumbled memories of ice cold stares, of cutting words and vague threats of abandonment filled his mind. But instead of his great and all powerful master… It was you. Glowering at him from a high height, sneering at him as he cowered underneath you.

“Why did I ever take you in? I should’ve left you where I found you.“

No. Please. He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out, almost like someone had clamped down their hand on his throat and was squeezing him for everything that he was worth.

“I no longer have any use for you. You should go back to that mountain and stop bothering me. I don’t need you.”

I can do better! Please! Don’t leave me!

But still no words left his mouth, even when he saw your back begin to walk away in the darkness.

“Y/N!” He finally managed to choke out, raising a trembling hand to your fading figure.

Suddenly the door he was leaning on burst open, falling into something unsteady than the solid surface of the wood. And then his back was being pulled into something soft, warmth encasing him like a spring breeze on a summer's day. There was something gentle pressing against his heaving chest, telling him to breathe. Shakily, he inhaled.

“One more.” He swore he could hear that voice tremble. It sounded so familiar… Again, he did so. His vision began to clear.

Two arms were wrapped tightly around him, his back against someone’s chest - he could feel the rapid heartbeat against him. Your face was buried in his shoulder, your legs on either side of his cowering body, caging him into the comfort of your embrace. He called out your name, and your face sprung up from where it was hidden. Were those… Tear tracks?

“You were crying… And calling for me…” You explained quietly, but your voice sounded tougher than it usually did. Was this real?

He carefully lifted one of his hands up to one of your arms and squeezed gently, mesmerised when your grip on him only tightened. He didn’t have a response to what you said, still trying to process what exactly just happened. He thought you just left, and now you were holding him?

“Sorry…” He apologised after a moment, and your arms fell limply to your sides, letting him go so he could stand up while you did too.

“Come to the kitchen. I made your favourite...” You turned around to leave, and blindly, he followed.

True to your word, there were not just one of his favourites, but almost all of them. How long had he been in there exactly, for you to make all of this - just for him? It was your way of apologising for what happened.

You knew he was just trying to help you, but you were embarrassed and angry at the state you had come home in. Nothing had gone right that day, and even one of your commissioners had screamed in your face when you failed their task. You just wanted to be alone in your misery, not drag him into it. Instead, you felt like you did the opposite.

“Why…” You began, and his head slowly turned to you. You were barely holding it together. “Why were you crying?” Your bottom lip trembled, your hands trembling at your sides. Slowly, he took one in his own, running his thumb across your bruised knuckles. Instead of giving you an answer, he interlaced your fingers together.

“Don’t leave me.”

You let out a shaky gasp before the tears you held back for him began to roll down your cheeks, dripping from your jaw. Without hesitation, you pulled him to your chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He could hear you mumble apologies while one of your hands ran through his soft, golden locks. He shushed you quietly, as his own arms wrapped around you comfortingly. This was the first time he had ever seen you cry, seen so much emotion from you. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but his lips curled up into a small smile.

“I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

After you both had calmed down and indulged yourselves in the meals you had painstakingly made so they were perfect for him, he finally told you what was wrong. It hurt to hear the honesty, but it was needed if either of you two didn’t want a repeat of what happened. He left out the part where the panic attacks weren’t uncommon if you were in a particularly bad mood, just to save you some heartache that you were already feeling after everything that had been said.

“I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll try and be better.”

“Just don’t change who you are. I like you, because you’re you. But I can’t lie to you, I would love to see you smile. Just once.” He admitted, staring down at your interlocked hands. Neither one of you had made a move to pull away from it, so they had been like that for some time. He heard a heavy sigh from you, your head hanging low for a moment before it raised. His breath hitched at the sight.

You, cheeks reddened from the previous crying, eyes swollen from rubbing at them - with a small, shy smile on your lips. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen in his life.

“Okay. I’ll smile more for you.”

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csprslvt · 10 months

Text

you and i, and her pt. 8

Chapter seven

Summary: Reader and Abby talk. Feeling very conflicted about what side to take so the burn is still slow, Ellie is falling deeper in love with the idea of who reader is. And reader hates herself for it. Lots of thinking ensues.

Warnings:The D slur, homophobia, angst, self hate, manipulative/lying behavior,unhealthy coping skills,mentions of dissociation,sexual jokes implied,love triangle,betrayal,angsty thoughts,written on an iphone bc my laptop died and I can’t find the charger so probably badly written,Ellie is down so bad someone tell her to stand up‼️‼️‼️

You probably shouldn't have told Abby about Ellie, if you were a better friend you might have kept her secret. But at the same time it was so conflicting. Abby’s sweet words had made you fold immediately.

“So wait, you've been hanging around someone plotting to kill me?”

“Abby I came with her to find you first, to tell you.”

“So what exactly am I supposed to do with that information? Not go home and let everyone back at the WLF base die?”

“I don't know but I don't want you there it's not safe”

Abby scoffed

“I can take her.”

“I don't want you to hurt her either.”

A myriad of emotions crossed Abby's face.

“So you're on her side too? Youre with someone who is trying to kill me?”

“No Abby I'm not.”

“Then why are you protecting her?”

“Are you- are you fucking jealous?”

“Why are you protecting her?”

“Fuck Abby you have no right to accuse me of anything right now, nor have the right to be possessive over me considering you were just having sex with Owen, and would’ve continued doing so had I not showed up.”

“Its the principal of what your doing that is fucking with my head right now y/n.”

“Fucking with your head? You know what actually blows my mind, the fact that you were so willing to jump into bed with someone without even looking for me. The fact that I'm supposed to be the love of your life and you didn't look for me. That is so fucked up. So yea I am fucking protecting her because she is my friend and shes been good to me and Im a goddamn human who doesnt want either of you to be in pain.”

Abby watched you intently, soaking in your words.

“I said I was sorry about Owen.”

“Yes you did, but have I even forgiven you? I have no idea. Both of you frustrate me so fucking much.”

“Owen and I?”

“No, you and Ellie. I love you Abby, I have never loved anyone else but sometimes loving you hurts me. And I'm confused because I initially came out here to jump back into your arms and run away with you but now I don't know If that's what I want considering someone else’s hands were on you and you let it be that way. What happened to us?”

“If we had never separated this wouldn't have happened”

“Well I'm sorry I got kidnapped. That was totally in my control” You seethed.

“y/n I am sorry.I can't tell you how badly I need you back in my life again. Things haven't been the same. I'm not the same, the entire WLF base can see it… come home. I need you”

“I just need some time to figure out what the fuck I want to do”

Abby stood up

“Well I'm not waiting for all my friends to die. I'm going home.”

“Abby please I can't let her kill you.”

“Have more faith in me.”

“It's hard to believe anything when it comes to you anymore”

Abby made a pained expression, that was a little painful to hear but it was fair.

You looked outside, and the light was coming in. Ellie would be awake soon.

“I've gotta go before she sees that I'm gone.”

Standing up you stepped close to Abby, hugging her. Her arms wrapped around you, lifting you off her feet, your face borrowed in her neck.

“Just, don't die okay?” Though now all you did with Abby was argue, she was still someone you cared deeply for.

“I won't ,stay safe y/n '' Abby mumbled into your shoulder.

The love was still so strong. It just felt strained.

That night or rather that morning when you had gotten back to Ellie, you’d snuggled up against her side again. And like second nature she pulled you into her, brushing her lips against your forehead and if she had been a little closer, it would have seemed like a kiss.

This was wrong, it was all so so wrong. But being close to Ellie felt good. It felt uncomplicated, simple, safe.

Ellie, once again woke up first. Her heart slowed to a gentle rhythm when she discovered you fast asleep in her arms.

“Beautiful”

Beautiful, she thought when she looked at you. Memorizing every pathway of your skin, looking softly at you as if she could never look away. It was a different admiration she had ever felt. Not with Riley, not with Cat, not with Dina. You were so you. Each of her past lovers had a thing about them that she was drawn to but you, she couldn't put a finger on it. All she knew is that she craved more. More days waking up with you in her arms, more of your laughs, smiles, more hidden glances she snuck when you were busy brushing shimmer or staring off into the treeline, mindlessly rubbing the gold locket that fell gracefully onto your pretty collarbones.

She wondered what was in that locket of yours, a past lover? A sibling or family member? Perhaps a pet? She highly doubted that possibility. You werent really an animal person unless it was shimmer.

Eventually you stirred awake.

“G’mornin Els” you drawled, a voice as smooth and soft as honey. It was music to her ears. She loved how vulnerable you sounded, fresh in the morning, only visible to her.

“Morning y/n” The look she was giving you was a little too overwhelming to be making eye contact with so you lowered your gaze.

“Sorry I'm all up in your space again. I couldn't-”

“No, I like it”

You blinked.

Ellie once again made it awkward.

“Dude you gotta stop flirting with me”

you spoke trying to break up the tension. (Was it uncomfortable or sexual tension? That you'll never tell)

Ellie’s face changed into that of a tomato.

“ I wasn't!”

You sat up next to her stretching her eyes immediately went to the bare skin that showed as your shirt rode up. She couldn't help it.

Before you could catch her eye though, she looked away, deciding that suddenly the sky was very interesting, looking intently at it.

“Sure, you definitely were!” You giggled.

Finally the pair of you were back on the road.

Once again, you were chest to back, wrapped around her waist and to Ellie, nothing ever felt so right.

She was so happy you followed her on her journey. You were so kind, so selfless for supporting her like this. She hoped that once this was all over she would be happy again. Happy with you. Her best friend. When she and Dina had broken up she never thought she would meet someone as amazing as you but you stumbling into those words was such a little miracle.

Ellie was perfectly content with the feeling of you holding onto her, she savored every touch. Never had she once had a platonic relationship with another girl that felt so deep and powerful. It flooded her heart with warmth. She only hoped that you reciprocated her feelings.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks”

“For what?”

“For coming all this way for me. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

You paused, guilt crawling into your soul. laying thoughts of self hatred inside of you, like an infection.

Like a parasite.

If only she knew you had came here to betray her.

“Of course Ellie.”

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Oh god Ellie stop. I’m a horrible person” you’d heard yourself think. But you didn’t say that. She would never allow you to think that. Ellie was a good person.

“Of course Ellie.”

Lying, lying, lying. You were a bad person, cruel, selfish. Saying sweet words to disguise the truth. Maybe you did deserve to be with someone like Abby. Maybe you deserved to be forgotten about.Not looked for, abandoned. Ellie didn’t deserve that. She was a perfect friend. Maybe you should just leave tonight and stay with Abby, like a coward unable to tell Ellie what was actually going on. Why you were really there; to save your ex-girlfriend, whose locket you still wore close to your heart. Were you even broken up? Were you available? Could you entertain Ellie’s obvious advances? No, it’s probably a bad idea. But you already sucked as a person, you might as well just go all the way into complete douche-baggary.

“Ellie when this is all over we need to have a girls night.”

“Girls night?”

“Yea like we eat a bunch of shit food, say horrible things about people we don’t like and do face masks!”

Ellie turned and smiled at you.

“I’d really like that”

The journey went on, and you came across infected, yet to see raiders or hunters. Ellie was stealthy. She taught you how to come up behind them and how to sneak amongst the masses. They never seemed to really really go for her, they were so busy chasing you. That was a little weird, how they acted like she was one of them. Maybe she really was that smooth. But you doubted it. It was Ellie Williams. She wasn’t smooth about anything. Especially not when it mattered. At least not other than murdering infected.

She seemed to enjoy this position she placed herself in, she liked teaching you things, sharing information, seeing you watch her, having your eyes on her. She wanted more of it. Every drop of attention you gave her she ate it up.It probably wasn’t normal to want someone so badly. Especially her best friend but she didn’t care. Not as long as you looked at her.

Call her desperate or depraved or whatever but she couldn’t get enough. If only you knew how deep her admiration ran, maybe you would be scared away but she doubted it. You were just as crazy as she was, after all if you weren’t you wouldn’t have been such good friends. Clicking so fast as if you were always meant to meet.

You, on the other hand, felt more sick than ever. Good thing you were such an experienced liar otherwise Ellie would’ve caught on.

It was a feeling of pure disgust by your own actions. By telling Abby about Ellie you were basically associating with the person Ellie hated the most, and rightfully so. But they were both frustrating. Abby killing Joel as revenge and Ellie killing Abby as a result. It was a big, unhealthy cycle that likely wouldn’t offer Ellie any happiness. After all she couldn’t bring anyone back to life by sacrificing another.She wouldn’t heal from this.

What would you do, when the time comes to choose between them? Abby was really pissing you off but that didn’t mean the love you had would just go away. She has seen every bad part of you and loved you regardless. You were sure Ellie would feel nothing but hate when/if she found out you met up with Abby, nevermind loved Abby.

So you came to the conclusion to utilize a common coping skill in your every day life. You would dissociate, disconnect from the stress and allow yourself to be loved by Ellie. Enjoy the moments with her before she would ultimately leave you. Or until you ultimately left her. The thought left a sick feeling inside of your abdomen. She would never forgive you. So you might as well take advantage of right now before everything went to compete and utter shit.

Notes: feedback is greatly appreciated! Pls lmk if the story should be team Abby or team Ellie. thanks for reading xoxoxo!

#abby anderson #abby x reader #ellie tlou2 #angst #ellie x reader #gaming #eventual smut #fem reader #the last of us 2 #ellie williams

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th3sp4rr0w · 8 months

Text

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts for Day Three; Sensory Deprivation/Overstimulation/Isolation

Alt. Prompt for Day Three; Separated From Loved Ones

Prompts Used; All

Tw; Emotional Manipulation, Violence, Injury, Autistic Meltdowns, Meltdown-Based Self Harm/Self Induced Injury, Internalized Ableism

Disclaimer; I have autism. The meltdown Danny has closely resembles a bad one for me. Autism looks different to different people, and I don't want to say that my experience is the only valid one bc obviously that's not true. People experience it in all different ways. Please don't make fun of his meltdown or make fun of anyone that may share their experiences in the comments. Just be nice to me and to others okay thank you <33

Link is to the A03 story for those seeing this for the first time and wanting to check it out and the chapter is under the cut :)

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Talking with Sheila over the next week was like a dream that had come true.

Like Jason had predicted, it hadn’t healed the wounds his mom’s passing had left. He hadn’t expected it would and wasn’t disappointed it didn’t, in the same way that he hadn’t expected being adopted by Bruce to heal the hurt Willis Todd had left somewhere inside him through the years. Though neither could heal the wounds the people that raised him had left, they both soothed it in ways he couldn’t seem to understand.

He hadn’t called Sheila ‘mom’. He felt like that title would always belong to the woman who sang to him when he was small and gave him his love for reading. One day, though, he could see himself giving Sheila a different title of affection. Maybe ‘mama’, he hadn’t really decided yet, but the thought was similar enough to the couple times he had slipped and called Bruce ‘papa’.

He still didn’t know how to process it when she told him she loved him a day into messaging back and forth. It was somewhere between elated and nauseous. He could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had told him he loved him in the last year, yet here Sheila was, giving it out like it was candy. He felt something weird curl in his stomach, but ignored it, assuming that it was a good weird, or something he’d picked up living with Bruce. Living with that nut case could make anyone extra paranoid. He still didn’t say he loved her, and how could he? He still hadn’t said those words to Bruce.

Through their messages late at night (For him, he reminded himself- Ethiopia was seven hours ahead of them, and she often times could only message early in the morning or midafternoon her time), he found out she had left both of “her” boys with Willis, and was extremely concerned to hear that her little Daniel wasn’t with him... which was weird, because the file Bruce had clearly stated that she had taken his twin? He chalked it up to a miscommunication error Bruce didn’t have communication errors .

He’d also learned about the crime that had caused her to flee to a different country. Apparently, the girl's parents had begged her to do some operation on her that they couldn’t afford. She would’ve died without it and was too far gone to save. It, admittedly, contradicted the information he had found in the bat-cave, but Bruce had dropped the case for a reason, right?

Batman would never make that big of a mistake on a case like that.

She wrote out stories of her life for him to pour over, from her current life at the horn to when she and da- Willis. To when she and Willis had met and fell in love. She said that she had hoped that, when they were old enough, her boys (and wasn’t that something, being one of her boys) would contact her exactly like Jason had. It had started looking grim, whether his twin was still out there in the world or not. He didn’t dare voice that to Sheila just yet, hoping for her sake that he was okay. She seemed like she was so worried about them over the years, especially now that she knows they were separated.

She asked him about himself, how he had gone into Bruce’s custody, how he liked living with Bruce, how his adopted brother was, how school was going. It was everything he had imagined her doing.

She was also wicked smart. You had to be to go into medicine, but especially since she had been living in Ethiopia, where hardly any English was spoken. Her area mostly spoke Amharic, she said, but living in the capital of the country she saw all sorts of people that spoke all sorts of languages. He started learning so he could visit her one day, even if the alphabet of the language did intimidate him just a little bit.

She had so much to say to him, it made his head go a bit fuzzy. Getting to know her, telling her things about his life, getting a nickname from her (ሰማያዊ ጄይ ወፍ -she refused to tell him what it meant, stating it would give him a little extra motivation to learn). There was really only a couple of things that Jason hadn’t... loved about the whole thing.

First; Bruce had tracked the Joker to around her area in Ethiopia. It was still unclear how exactly he’d gotten out of the country, but he had. The clown was way too close to her for his comfort, and there was no way to warn her without telling her everything.

The second thing was that, after Bruce had found an excuse to visit Ethiopia “for a meeting” so they could stay for a while without too much fear of the media finding out and causing a ruckus, Jason had wanted to tell him so they could go see her. Dick was going to space for a Titan’s mission, so if he just told him about it when he got back, then he would probably be too excited on Jason’s behalf to get mad at Bruce that much, right? Except, when Jason went to tell Sheila the good news, she had all but begged him not to tell Bruce about her yet.

He hadn’t known what to make of that.

Her reasoning had been that she was worried Bruce would take it as a threat. Big ol’ goofball Brucie Wayne would take one look at her and assume she was attempting to steal away the precious boy he had loved and cared about for over a year. Except, when he tried to tell her there was absolutely no way he’d ever think like that, would be overjoyed even on Jason’s behalf, she had outright dismissed him. When he pushed it, she got annoyed and more defensive.

He guessed he could understand where she was coming from. He’d probably be a little nervous in her position, too, but she was so vehemently against Bruce even knowing he knew about her...

He didn’t know what to do.

He sat through his classes, distracted and dazed. What if he couldn’t introduce them before Bruce found out Jason had gone behind his back? Then Dick would be mad at both of them for keeping something important from him, even if it was none of his business. He didn’t even know how Alfred would react. He was pretty sure the man would probably be on his side...? Then again, he had been pretty sure Sheila would want to meet his family.

He felt a harsh poke to his shoulder. He looked over at the tiny boy next to him.

He raised his eyebrows, looked over to the teacher then back at the older boy in silent conversation. He had a way of doing that; making you feel scolded without ever opening his mouth. Most days Jason isn’t sure if the boy is on par with or better at it than Alfred . It was inspiring and terrifying all at once. Jason didn’t know if he wanted to learn how to do it or if he never wanted the other boy to do that again.

He shrugged, eyes flickering to the abandoned sheet on his desk before settling back on the boy next to him.

He rolled his eyes, looking back up to the board as the teacher droned on.

Jason returned to his thoughts. He wondered briefly if he could get away with going on his phone, but decided against it. Even if the teacher didn’t notice, the little stalker next to him would. He was reasonably sure he wouldn’t snitch, but he would ask uncomfortable questions. It was hard to deny the boy anything, his big owl eyes boring into his soul and making him want to cater to the kid’s every need.

He wasn’t fully sure that the baby bird wasn’t a meta.

The moment the bell rang, the boy had grabbed Jason’s wrist to prevent him from hiding out in a bathroom to see if Sheila had emailed him yet. When Jason attempted to protest, he glared at him. Jason followed obediently after him.

He allowed the boy to take them to their regular empty classroom in the back of the library. They’re pretty sure everyone forgot about it since they changed librarians again, since they never see any sign anyone else ever uses it. He started pulling food from his lunchbox as the other boy started talking.

“You need to tell me what’s going on with you, Jason,” he started. “You’ve been acting so weird, and you’re avoiding me-”

“I’m not avoiding you!” Jason protested immediately. “If I was avoiding you, I’d be doing a damn better job at it,” he muttered.

The other boy looked about as intimidating as a baby chihuahua as he glared at him. “You may not realize it yet, but you absolutely are. You always get like this when you have something on your mind that you haven’t figured out how to say, so say it. What happened? Did you get in another fight with Dick?” his voice was gentler than it had been previously by the end of it.

Jason sighed. “No, baby bird, it’s just... I found something out last week. Something Bruce definitely knew about. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“So spill. We can workshop it together, okay? We can figure this out, Jace.”

And he did. Jason spilled everything, from finding out Catherine wasn’t his bio mom, to contacting Sheila, to Ethiopia (though, he kept Joker out of it; as far as the baby bird knew, Bruce had a business trip and decided to give Alfred a break for the weekend).

The kid had looked at him afterwards. “So, Sheila-” he looked at Jason questioning, and when he gave a nod he went on, “-Sheila is the one who gave birth to you, and wants to meet you on your dad’s-”

“Bruce isn’t my dad,” Jason denied.

“Fine, Mr. Wayne’s-”

“Call him Bruce!”

“ Mr. Wayne’s ,” he emphasized, ignoring Jason’s groans, “Business trip, but she doesn’t want you to tell Mr. Wayne you know or that you’re going to meet her?”

“Pretty much,” Jason replied miserably.

“Well, you know what you have to do, right?”

“What’s that?”

“You listen to her,” he said seriously, beginning to take some of the celery sticks and peanut butter Alfred had packed them.

Jason looked at him a minute. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s an adult,” he started, crunching on his celery, “She must have a reason she doesn’t want him to know. Just trust her, okay? It’ll all work out.”

Jason shrugged, finally grabbing a sandwich and chewing on it thoughtfully, “Yeah, probably. I just...”

He trailed off. The child looked at him expectantly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. Alfie knows something’s up, I think, and it’s tearing me up to keep quiet about it.”

He heard a hum. “Yeah, but this isn’t just about you. It’s Sheila’s life, too, and she’s the adult. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

Jason sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, birdie.”

The other boy beamed at him, “You’re welcome, Jayjay.”

Jason smiled back at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d believe anything that little menace tried to convince him of as long as he had that faux innocent grin.

Hell, he did know better, and some part of him still believed the little shit.

The baby bird had made a good point. Sheila did already have a reason to keep this from Bruce, and there was probably one she couldn’t tell him. He’d hadn’t told her he was Robin; they’d only been chatting for a week. On the other hand...

He felt guilty for not telling his family. He could tell Alfred was worried sick, and Bruce had started catching on. Dick was too busy to notice anything yet, but it was only a matter of time that he’d be home and Jason would have to start lying to him , too...

He tried to throw himself in his schoolwork the rest of the day, worrying at his lip all the while. When Alfred picked him up at the end of the day, he didn’t know what to say. Finding her had been a dream come true, but sometimes, it felt like he was dirty. Like he was doing something he knew he shouldn’t be during patrol and Batman was right behind him, watching him screw up and boring his disappointed gaze at him all the while.

He went to his room, barely saying ‘hi’ to Bruce in his study. He did his homework, texted the boy next door about notes he missed being zoned out through the day, helped him with his questions, took his hour-long pre-patrol nap, and got ready.

When he was Robin, his problems were supposed to go away. They did, for the most part. As Robin, he was invincible, he could hop from roof top to roof top without a care in the world and just... let loose. Jason Todd wasn’t supposed to exist in the suit. He was Robin. But not tonight.

No, tonight seemed worse, somehow. No matter how hard he tried, or how focused he pretended to be, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and the gnawing feeling that something was wrong, wrong, wrong-

Maybe that’s why, when Batman and Robin ambushed that trafficking ring they’d found in its early stages, he was distracted. It was such a blur; one second, he was fighting bad guys and kicking butt like Robin does, and the next he was blindly clawing at his own face, actively trying to get his mask off.

This had probably happened too many times to count, especially in the early days. When you’re a vigilante, sometimes, people do messed up things to you, like pour strange chemicals on your body. The league (and Batman... mostly Batman-) designed suits specifically for when bad guys poured strange chemicals on it, to keep them from hurting you too bad so you can keep fighting. When that skin is exposed, say, on your face, that’s a different story.

They hadn’t wanted anything too abrasive on the face, since that would rub the sensitive skin raw and make mask-shaped red rings against it, and that’s bad for the secret identity. If Bruce Wayne had Batman-cowl shaped red marks on his face every day, eventually someone would put two and two together and make four. Before he and the team developed the right combo, he apparently got really good at make-up, but then the bat had gotten a certain little bird. 9 yr old Dick Grayson hated the way it felt, but he couldn’t go to school every day with marks on his chubby baby cheeks.

So, Batman spent months perfecting the best mix of protective and comfortable. He had designed the mask so, while not as soak-proof as the rest of the outfit, you had some time to get it off should anything happen. In addition, the lenses suctioned to the skin, gently enough not to create lasting marks but well enough that nothing should enter and get into the wearer’s eyes in most situations.

The lenses were enforced, but not unbreakable. They absorbed as much of the impact as possible without completely shattering, but they would crack so they wouldn’t break your eye socket when you got hit in the face. So, if someone were to, say, punch you real hard near both of your eyes while wearing brass knuckles, then pour chemicals on your face, you’d be in some deep trouble.

The stars had aligned tonight for the worst possible scenario to become reality.

Jason was screaming, he thought. He clawed at the mask, trying his hardest to get it off with his gloves on as the noise of the fight surrounded him. He wasn’t sure what happened, but when he felt strong arms try to grab him, he fought with all he had left.

A voice flickered in and out of his adrenaline-fueled stupor, “Ro-… Okay, you... ‘in, Shhh, Robin, it’s me.”

He finally realized it was just Batman and relaxed. He thought he was crying, it was hard to tell anymore.

“Papa- papa, I can’t see,” he cried out as he started sobbing. He felt the strong arms around him start to pick him up.

“Relax, I got you,” he murmured, then- “Agent A, I need you to prepare the med bay with saline and sterile syringes, prepped for flushing. We have a Robin with a clipped wing.” Papa adjusted his hold, starting to run towards where Jason was pretty sure they parked the bat-mobile.

“Oh, dear,” he heard the butler reply in the comm. “What’s happened?”

“I’ll fill you in at the Batcave.”

He couldn’t hear Alfred’s reply over the rush of blood in his ears. He felt papa adjust him to open his door, leaning in the back seat to set him down and gently peel off his mask, rubbing under his right eye for a moment before buckling him in and closing the door. Moments later, he heard the door in front of him open and shut quickly, feeling it roar to life and tear down the road.

Papa produced a bottle of water and talked him through opening it to pour onto his face. They were still going to flush when they got to the cave, he claimed, but getting as much of it off as early as possible was important. Jason did as he was told, tilting his head back and not bothering to close his eyes as he let the water pour down his burning cheeks. It felt cool against his skin, mixing with the sweat and grime.

It was humiliating. He felt like he was in his early days again, messing up at every corner and leaving pap-, Batman, to clean up the mess.

“What happened out there, Robin?” he heard the gruff voice ask from the front seat.

“He- he had brass knuckles,” he gasped. “Hit me in the face a couple times and broke both my lenses,” if he knew the bat, he probably looked up at that, searching for any sign of bruising, “Then, someone poured the chemicals. Don’t know what they were, they had them stored in an unmarked glass bottle. Brown.”

“Hn.”

Jason cringed. It had felt right in the moment, but any time either he or Dick had called out for some version of “dad” in battle, it brought out the worst version of Batman. Overprotective, obsessive, and violent (always towards others, never towards them. Never them, even if sometimes they might deserve it). This version of Batman, who barely wants to let them go live their lives in fear of having them out of his sight. Jason wasn’t going to be patrolling by himself for the rest of the week, if he was allowed to patrol at all.

His eyes stung. The vision was slowly starting to come back, but it was blurry. He could see some blocks of color; the dash looked like a solid black thing with specs of blue. If he tried to squint, he could barely make out the little ears on Bruce’s cowl for a couple seconds before he the pain was too much and he had to close his eyes again.

The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered Bruce holding his head gently in his lap as Alfred flushed out his eyes, examining them carefully. Bruce used his mask to find what chemicals were used and, thankfully, they weren’t too potent. They had flushed his eyes in time, and tonight shouldn’t have any lasting effects.

Sometimes, after a harrowing patrol, either of his little birds could show up in their pajamas by the elevator and wait. Somehow, Bruce always knew. He’d be there within 5 minutes, freshly showered and dressed comfortably with his pink robe, and take them into his room. He’d hold them protectively until they fell asleep. They’d often wake up, still in his embrace in the morning.

Jason had only participated in this ritual with Dick, could count on one hand the amount of times he had. But tonight was just...

Well. It was a lot.

So, after a shower with still-blurry vision and fumbling his way through getting dressed, he went to stand by the elevators to wait for his... for Bruce.

Instead, he found Bruce standing there waiting, hair already damp in his usual bedtime attire. His pink robe was tied loosely around his waist. He was wearing sweats with a Gray Ghost t-shirt. He held out his arms for Jason to slot into.

Maybe he was too old for this, but that didn’t matter. Right now, sitting in Bruce’s arms as he carried him into the one room in the house he felt he could sleep in comfortably tonight, he couldn’t care less about it.

As Bruce laid him down to hold him gently, rubbing his thumb pad over his brow and smoothing down his hair, he felt safe. That’s all that mattered.

As long as he was with his papa, he was safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny cringed as he heard another bang from the basement. His parents had decided to stay home to prep for an upcoming convention and he was going nuts .

He had done all the work Jazz brought home. He’d burned through the majority of her book collection.

Tucker and Sam had worked together to customize a phone that he could actually use- he normally fried any electronic device he came into contact with for more than a couple weeks. The phone was one of those new, annoying ones that had no headphone jack. It was also a new-enough development that they hadn’t finished customizing a pair of Bluetooth headphones for it. He had lost the headphone adapter nearly immediately after getting it.

He flinched again as he heard the clang and screech of metal on metal. If he had to listen to this much longer, he was going to start screaming.

Arguably the worst part of the whole week was the fact that the wound he’d gotten hadn’t healed, like, at all . Ghosts kept coming, they kept fighting him, and they kept aggravating the wound with their own ectoblasts and throwing him into the ground. Not to mention when Maddie herself reopened it throwing a whole harpoon at him . Thankfully it hadn’t gone through, just scraped the absolute heck out of his side, but still! Ow!

His side burned. Sounds were starting to bug him more. His parents put more ectoplasm in the fridge and hadn’t replaced anything that went sentient yet and his stomach ached with hunger. He hadn’t seen Tucker and Sam in forever and he actually wanted to go to school just to get away from this hell house -

His head flew backwards and hit the wall. The sound reverberated in his ears, taking over the sounds of downstairs for a few seconds. He did it again, and again, and-

He was crying. Breathing was weird and it felt vaguely like death. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

His hands rolled into fists and he used his wrists to beat his temples. The pain was grounding, in a way. He could feel hot tears stream down his face and it made him all the more desperate to just make it stop, why wouldn’t it stop -

The way his shirt was twisted around him was wrong, the sheets were the wrong texture, he could still taste the terrible mint of his toothpaste, the sounds from the basement kept getting louder. Every nerve in his body was on fire and his head ached. He could feel bruises forming on his wrists and temples. It wasn’t enough.

He grabbed a pillow and screamed . He hadn’t slept more than 10 hours in almost two weeks, he was seeing spiders, he hadn’t had any zesti in days and everything was too much. He took a shuddering breath and screamed again, brain focused on the screeching metal.

CLANG! CLANG! SCREEEEE-

His voice raised in pitch to screech with it. He vaguely felt something shaking. His hands came up to tug on his hair. His shirt stuck to his neckline as tears soaked the hem. His throat burned and it was almost a mercy as the migraine he’d created for himself throbbed.

The metal clanging finally stopped. The screams that had turned into hoarse little sounds calmed in favor of sobs.

Over the next few minutes, the tears slowed. He carefully pried his hands away from his hair and attempted to soothe himself. He almost wished Jazz was here, but was eternally grateful she hadn’t witnessed his, uh, lapse in judgment.

He... he should’ve just left, or found an old device or another they had floating around. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks. He threw a fit like a toddler and for what? Because of a few noises? How old was he again?

He tore his shirt off before another round could start over the fabric. He shuffled over to his drawers, pulling out a soft hoodie and his favorite bottoms. He changed quickly.

When he was little and these things happened, he went to his parents. They once soothed his aching wrists and checked his head. They would workshop whatever had pushed him this far, making sure he had the tools he needed to prevent it next time. Jazz helped a lot in that regard. But now, they cared more about their career.

Jazz was at school still. She would help him through these, now, but she wouldn’t always be there for him. He grabbed the fluffy pillow she had given him, pressing his face to it.

He wanted his mom. He wanted her to rub his back the way only she knew how. He wanted the smell of his dad’s fudge as he did what he could to soothe his son. He never knew what to say, and his hands felt like fire, but he’d always offer fudge and that was enough. He knew his dad was trying to comfort him the best way he knew how and it was enough .

Jazz would’ve had the space documentary on right now. Tucker and Sam, who always somehow knew exactly what was wrong without asking, would’ve been there with noise cancelling headphones and soft things and would know if it was a time for hugs or hand holding or staying six feet away from him. They knew him. They were perfect .

He missed them. He was so alone and he still had another week of this. The tears had his face sticky and he was dehydrated so all he was doing right now was that stupid dry sobbing that made him feel like he was faking the whole thing. He started gagging at some point.

He could feel his teeth and every one of their sockets being stretched grotesquely to fit them. He could feel as his mouth filled with saliva and could hear it swish around every time he moved his tongue. Every little thing someone could tune out normally felt like it was setting him on fire; his breathing in his ears, the mucus in his nose, the inseam of his sock, every little stitch of his clothing, every eyelash scraping against his eye.

He hadn’t eaten in a few days he could feel his stomach cramp around nothing . Jazz had an important test to study for so he wasn’t going to bug her about food. His parents had eaten out since the ectoplasm incident, so they didn’t feel the need to get more food. They hadn’t gotten anything for Danny since they “didn’t want to reward him for bad behavior while he was suspended”. He was so sick of being suspended.

His body convulsed as he calmed down. He felt a cold build in his lungs.

He cursed his luck. The frost blew out of his mouth, sticking to his cheeks. He was going to start screaming again.

He transformed, shakily starting to fly. He went intangible and went through the wall, trying not to let the way it felt against his body make him go back into a full meltdown. His ghost form was slightly more tolerable, but he could still feel every molecule of being buzz with ectoplasm and it consumed him whole.

He flew around for a bit before finally finding the thing that had set off his senses.

Skulker. Jazz had finally convinced him to release the bastard and he was already back. Danny felt his anger levels rise and he was briefly tempted to throw himself at the bricks without going intangible. Instead, he charged.

He rammed into Skulker full forced as he cackled. They tumbled through the air until they landed on a roof.

“WHELP!” he cried as Danny started laying into him. “WHAT- HEY! TIME OUT!”

He grasped the boy by the shoulders and threw him. Danny felt his previous wounds get jostled and his head hit the corner of the building. Even though most of the damage by now was gone because of his ghostly healing, it still hurt. He hissed in pain.

“What ever happened to the wit! Honestly, whelp, at least put some effort in, it won’t be satisfying to hang your pelt-”

Danny threw an ecto-blast at him. Skulker narrowly avoided it, his facial expression between impressed and annoyed.

“You pest! I never thought you’d have it in you-” he grinned, going to attack Danny back. “It’ll be a pleasure to skin you slowly!”

Danny growled, dodging Skulker and attacking with his ecto-blasts. “DO IT!” he yelled.

Skulker stuttered for one second, allowing Danny to get him pinned down to the roof.

The ghost pulled the glowing blade out of his suit, swinging at where he knew the half-boy should be sitting. “I’ll do it!” he threatened, swinging around.

“DO IT!” he yelled again, shaking the ground around him. “SKIN ME! DO IT!”

Skulker paused. He... was beginning to feel this was bigger than he first considered it would be. He almost felt like he needed to leave but pressed on.

“I’m not playing around, half-breed!” he roared. He swiped at the boy, clipping his cheek. He only grinned at him, his fists starting to glow green. He started towards him, shouting again.

“Good! If you don’t skin me, I might just do it myself !”

The shaking of the building grew stronger. His voice carried itself in green rings, reverberating around the buildings and shaking the earth. Skulker could feel his armor start to shake like it did whenever Ember did this around him. The child’s words hit him afterwards in the shock of it all.

Yeah, he probably should’ve tried retreating earlier.

And besides, just how many powers did this kid have again? He felt like halfas got it all at this point, it was ridiculous.

Instead of gaining common sense, he picked himself up and launched himself at the boy. Said boy punched him with green fists, screaming- no, wailing at the top of his lungs. Could he even control this?!

The metal suit came apart with clangs and screeches of metal. The boy whined loudly, his wail once again shaking the buildings around them.

Skulker was stuck in the helmet as he listened to the boy whimper for a few minutes before he composed himself. He felt the boy pick his helmet up and shake it vigorously as he flew.

The boy said nothing as he turned intangible and went through a wall. The small ghost in the helmet sat there in silence as he listened to the boy crying. He heard the tell-tale sign of him going back to his human form.

He had been pointed at the ceiling, so all he saw was snippets of things being thrown over top of him. He didn’t dare speak, but it was weird that the little whelp had been silent this long.

Normally it was making noise and being annoying. Snarky comments and witty anecdotes, but today... nothing.

He heard noises from other parts of the house. He thought he could make out the sound of those ghost hunters voices, but that was weird. If this was the little ghost’s haunt, why would ghost hunters...?

Realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. The little half-breed was still human. It still had parents. Its parents were the hunters that they had learned to avoid within the last year or so of having the portal in the basement.

Ohhh, this was bad. This was so, so bad. He remembered every time he had been captured and had a new appreciation for the little whelp never turning them over to its parents. He... also realized just how dangerous this all was for it.

He listened to the boy as he pulled things from places, ripping noises and grunts of pain.

Skulker found himself wondering just how the half-breed worked. If he got injured. If he knew this was just playing around for them.

He heard the boy start whimpering again, starting to jump around desperately. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it did it with an almost manic edge to it. The distress of the creature was palpable in the room.

The thing eventually collapsed onto its bed. He could hear its panting from where he lay on the floor.

He wasn’t sure how long they staid like that before the thing's sister entered the room. He heard her voice attempting to soothe as smells filled the space they resided in. He could hear agitation in the thing’s voice as it responded.

The, what was it called again? ‘Fenton Thermos’ didn’t provide anything except darkness and silence. That was arguably the worst part of it, not being granted the passage of time, or companionship while being stuck, unless there were multiple ghosts there at once. But this? He wasn’t sure this was better. This somehow felt more wrong than trying to skin the whelp alive, for ancients’ sakes.

He couldn’t even do anything to help. Or to hurt, whichever came first. Being stuck in his helmet gave him the perspective he never had, and stripped him of being able to use it at all. This was probably the worst he had felt after getting a beatdown from the half-breed.

He heard shouting next. Between the thing and its sister. Something about never giving it space and how it never came to her with its problems. It felt too... ‘absolutely not his business’ for his taste.

Eventually, he heard more screaming. He felt the room shake and he almost said something, then decided against it.

When it stopped, he felt his helmet get snatched up and thrown up against the wall. He didn’t make a sound as the thing raged.

All at once, he felt the whelp race down the stairs. Watched through the lenses of his helmet as he went through the portal and started flying. He saw glimpses of territories in the Zone as they flew by.

He saw through the lenses, but mostly felt it when they reached his territory in the Zone. It was something every ghost felt when they entered their haunt. He also mostly felt it when the little whelp threw his helmet into his haunt . It could be so rude sometimes!

No matter. He had already made up his mind.

He started rolling the helmet towards the center of his haunt. He needed to rebuild first, but this was too big of a thing to keep to himself.

He needed to tell someone of the boy’s situation.

After dropping off Skulker (emphasis on drop ), Danny was... hesitant to go home. He could normally spend days in the Zone and never face an issue. He wanted to stay in the Zone, until his skin felt like his and his mind stopped buzzing.

But fighting with Jazz wasn’t an excuse. That was mostly his dumb fault. If he wasn’t such an oversensitive crybaby, he wouldn’t have snapped at her. She was just trying to be nice, and he blew it.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. The only reason he could even go into the Zone was because she had told their parents of the rumor that Skulker’s suit had been found (the same suit that Tucker and Sam had already cleaned up following reports of a freak ‘earthquake’). His parents were driving him nuts and he was starting to fear he’d never be okay again.

He could blame the accident for a lot. It took away his chances of ever becoming an astronaut. It took away his security in the world. It took away his ability to feel invincible in the way that kids do. But this wasn’t the accident’s fault.

He was born broken. He was born with his skin too tight, too-large teeth, and something bubbling in his throat, begging to get out. He was born wrong.

There was... there was just no fixing that. He was going to be broken forever.

He would always have to live with the fact that everything that was wrong with him was purely something he did. Jazz could say whatever she wanted about it.

Daniel Fenton, even before the accident, was broken. Not even Jazz could fix that.

He could never fix himself.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc robin #robin #batman #ai-less whumptober day three #Kite Flies Over The Nightingale Nest

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