#but what if he just... failed to learn the lesson she was trying to show him?

[inklore]

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good. 

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses. 

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another. 

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach. 

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days. 

A girl can dream. 

And she has. Embarrassingly. 

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God. 

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity. 

Gratefulness. 

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you? 

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings. 

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel. 

He was always there. 

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time. 

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before. 

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks. 

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over. 

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped." 

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone." 

"Hey! I could punch someone." 

"Could and would are two different things." 

"You sayin I couldn’t?" 

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t." 

"Not tough enough?" 

"Your heart's too big." 

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured." 

"I’m shaking in my boots." 

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn.  On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch." 

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?" 

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel." 

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?" 

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out. 

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red. 

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully. 

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts. 

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll. 

"Don’t alert the press." 

"Oh, they’ve already been informed." 

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky. 

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting. 

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink. 

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight." 

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him. 

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin. 

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money." 

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be. 

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say. 

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had. 

Joel Miller was a good man. 

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know. 

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma. 

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind. 

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good." 

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle. 

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke. 

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks. 

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now. 

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?" 

"A what—pity kiss?" 

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?" 

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?" 

"Exactly." 

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. 

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate. 

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement. 

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks. 

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his. 

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders. 

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one. 

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him. 

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you. 

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl. 

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers. 

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now. 

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can. 

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth. 

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs. 

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence. 

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked. 

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?" 

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously."  There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken. 

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up. 

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes. 

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging. 

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth. 

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center. 

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection. 

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you." 

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are." 

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises. 

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag. 

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back. 

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight. 

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel. 

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock. 

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after. 

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though." 

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully. 

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fluff #the last of us smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal fics #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction

[ickadori]

++ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 — 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

↳ Choso is still unfamiliar with the more human way of doing things, but he is trying, so you can’t fault him too much when his actions resemble that of a curse rather than a human. VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

[cws] yandere. stalking. chikan. mild violence. fem reader. i’ve taken creative liberties and made it so that choso can choose when he’s visible to humans thanks to being half-curse, half-human :3 reader is american.

Right and wrong is not something that Choso concerns himself with - he simply does what he pleases.

It’s not in the sense of him thinking that he’s above human laws (he is) and can therefore ignore them, but rather that he’s not familiar with them.

Yuji has told him time and time again about what is and is not acceptable, but it just hasn’t clicked in his head yet. In the rare times that he shows himself to humans, he always finds himself breaking some type of rule, law, or societal norm, as Yuji tells him.

“You can’t walk so close to people, Choso - they’ll think you’re a pervert or something!”

“I don’t care if she smelt good - you can’t sniff her like a dog!”

“Put your dick away! That’s not a bathroom! You can’t piss there!”

“No, Choso! You can’t kill somebody just because the line is too long!”

Humans were bound by so many rules, it was annoying. Choso found himself staying hidden more often than not, choosing to observe the people around him rather than taking more ‘lessons on humanity’ from his younger brother—Yuji was a big help, don’t get him wrong, but Choso didn’t feel right taking lessons from his younger sibling. Choso was the oldest, the one meant to protect and teach his younger brothers (something he had failed to do on two occasions, as he so painfully remembers every day), and if he didn’t know it, then it was his duty to learn it on his own.

The regular people of Japan, the ones who were terribly unfit to defend themselves (it’d be a hassle trying to protect them - he’s glad they’re not his siblings), were incredibly boring. Majority of them only worked and slept, some occasionally getting drunk at some hole-in-the-wall bar before stumbling home and passing out in the living room.

Choso preferred watching the not-so-regular people of Japan, the ones who led a life that Yuji always turned his nose up at, but Choso didn’t think they were so bad. They do what they want, what’s so wrong with that, he always asked. They didn’t let rules shape their actions or let laws turn them into a completely different person - they were simply them, and Choso found it admirable, in a way.

He watched men cloaked in black skulk around alleyways looking for a target to rob, women dressed in skimpy clothing slipping into cars only to slip out a few moments later with blood on their cleavage, teenagers walking into stores with no money yet walking out with pockets stuffed full of snacks and drinks, men in suits exchanging briefcases full of drugs and money, truck drivers transporting living, breathing humans adorned in chains - the dregs of society as so many called them.

He watched them sparingly, only when he grew bored of the mundane lives of everyone else, everyone else except for you, of course.

Choso had been watching you ever since he first began this poor attempt to assimilate into Yuji’s world. You lived a boring, plain, safe life, but he found himself interested nonetheless. You were an office worker, one with a funny accent that he learned was American. You liked to read and occasionally write, and you went on walks in the park on the weekend and took pictures of the scenery. You didn’t drink and you didn’t smoke but all your friends did. You had a library card that you lost on a monthly basis. You had an unhealthy addiction to carbonated drinks. You hated going to the dentist. You avoided stepping on the cracks in sidewalks. You desperately wanted a pet but your lease forbade you from getting one.

These were the boring, mundane details of your life. Nothing exciting, nothing noteworthy, and yet Choso had memorized it all.

You were on your way home from work now, unaware of Choso’s presence behind you. He was close - close enough to breathe in the scent of your signature perfume and take a peek down the top of your button down. Even your bra was boring, a dull gray that covered you fully, and an annoyed pout formed on his face before he turned his attention to the phone in your hand.

You were checking your banking account, likely making sure that you had enough for your daily sweet treat and tea from your favorite shop. It turns out that you don’t have enough, but he already knew that. You didn’t get paid until tomorrow, and you had used the last bit of your money on a recurring subscription that you had forgotten to cancel.

You sigh under your breath before dropping your phone into your purse, and Choso falls into step beside you, the rest of the journey to the train station going by uneventfully, as usual.

~

It’s a new day, and the same routine.

There’s a couple that steps onto the train before the both of you, their hands intertwined and the woman’s head nuzzled against the man's arm. Physical affection was another thing that Choso wasn’t familiar with.

Even if majority of his life hadn’t been spent locked away in a sealed vial, it wasn’t in his nature to be gentle with his hands - they were tools to protect what was dearest to him, and the only way he knew how to do that was to kill whatever threatened what was closest to him.

Although he wasn’t sure if you would appreciate that in this moment - you were squeamish when it came to blood, funnily enough, and he doubted he could kill the man standing behind you without making a mess.

“Tch.” Choso hovers near you, his eyes taking in the scene. You’re on your morning commute to work, dressed in the white button down he watched you press this morning, and a black pencil skirt that stuck to you like glue - it had been amusing watching you shimmy into it, stumbling around your room and cursing as you threw worried glances at the digital clock on your nightstand.

You were dressed identical to every other woman on this train -your hair was even in a similar updo- and yet the man—the pervert as Yuji would have called him—had singled you out in the overcrowded place. He stood behind you, closely, and Choso leaned to peer around your shoulder, lip lifting in annoyance when he sees the man’s crotch pushed against the swell of your ass.

The act itself doesn’t bother him, but rather that you’re the one the man chose to enact it on. He likely wouldn’t have batted an eye had the man chosen one of the other women to feel on, but the sight of someone touching you had never failed to invoke a feeling of intense hatred in Choso.

He didn’t like it, and he made it known when he moved to stand behind the man. He settled a heavy on his shoulder, his energy dark, thick and heavy as it nearly filled all the corners of the train car - an embodiment of the anger swirling in his gut. The man jolts and looks back over his shoulder, seeing nothing but perhaps a murky, dark substance. His hand grips hard, and the crunch that sounds followed by the pained wail doesn’t do much to quell that anger.

He had touched you, someone that Choso was closely coming to regard as important, and there was only one way that could right this wrong, but that would have to wait until the number of people around were low. Too many eyes were never good, and Choso had studied humans enough to know that their first instinct was to run to the police when they saw a body drop before their eyes.

With a shove to the side, the man is thrown halfway across the car, and a cacophony of shouts sound off as he goes tumbling. You spin around, eyebrows pulled together and mouth set in an angry line, and Choso feels that strange human urge to comfort surge forth.

You cast a glare to the man, your hands moving to hitch your bag higher up your shoulder, and you keep your back to the door, likely in an attempt to keep that from happening again…what’s it called again? He’s seen this scenario play out before in one of Yuji’s books that he tries and fails to keep a secret.

Ch…chi…chikan, train molestation.

His brother is a pervert, without a doubt, but he supposes that works in his favor. The magazine had piqued his interest, firstly because Yuji had gone to great lengths to stuff it into the back of his closet underneath a set of his college textbooks, and secondly because it housed a taboo of society, and the taboo is what interested Choso these days.

He had read it in its entirety, and then had tried to witness it himself. He had spent hours hanging around the station, going in and out of cars and maneuvering between bodies to try and catch a glimpse of the depraved act, yet he came up with nothing, until today that is.

And what a letdown that had been.

His mouth pulls down at the sides, and he gives you a slow once over. He starts at neatly done hair, moves down to sculpted brows that frame glossy eyes, then to a nose that he wouldn’t mind feeling against his own, and down to a set of lips that he finds himself thinking about more and more these days.

He goes further down, down to the way your shirt stretches across your breasts, the buttons straining just a bit, and he tilts his head to the side, a new type of feeling now festering in the pit of his stomach.

Your hands clasp together in front of you, the movement forcing your chest to jut out a bit more, and when the train curves around a bend, Choso lets gravity move him closer to you, head angled down. You tense just a bit, and your senses must be a bit better than everyone else’s, or maybe he’s just doing a poor job at concentrating on concealing himself.

You push yourself a bit further into the corner, and he further crowds you into it, a spark of excitement running up his spine — prey. That’s what you remind him of in this moment as you cower in the corner from a threat you can’t see. He wants to sink his teeth into you—no, his hands. He wants to touch you and squeeze you all over, sink his fingers into soft flesh and leave his mark behind.

So he does.

Tentatively, at first.

The tips of his fingers hover near your cheek, casting a shadow that you’re unable to see, and his breathing grows labored when he finally touches you - it’s shocking, literally. You jump as you feel it, and Choso frowns. He hasn’t learned about the grand thing called static, so in his mind, his mind that was locked away and kept rudimentary for so long, this shock upon first contact signified something monumental…something visceral.

You press further against the wall, brows furrowing as your hand moves up to rub at your cheek, and Choso moves down to the slope of your neck, fingers running along the throbbing vein, racing pulse, and then he’s rubbing at your collarbones. You’re warm just like him, but where he’s hard you’re soft - soft, doughy, fragile.

His hands settle on your breasts, one in each palm, and he squeezes. Oh. You frown deeper, your eyes dropping to where his hands are groping, but you don’t see. He’s right up on you now, head angled down and jaw slack as he tests the weight in his hands - they’re a nice size, a good size. Your nipples get hard under his hand, and he rubs against it with his thumb - your bra is so thin.

He thinks back to that book and what he had read in it, images of the debauchery floating to the front of his mind, and his mouth runs dry at the thought of doing those things to you. He had never thought about sexual gratification, much less craved it, but he felt as if he had been subconsciously seeking it out all his life and he had finally found it.

His breath is practically coming out in pants, matching the rapid thumps of his heart. He traps your nipples between his fingers and squeezes. You suck in a sharp breath of air, eyes darting around at the other passengers who don’t pay you much attention - they’re all warily looking at the man still moaning in pain as he sags in a corner and clutches at his shoulder.

Choso squeezes again, and he knows it’ll feel better if he was touching you skin on skin, but he’s certain you wouldn’t take kindly to him scattering your shirt buttons all over the floor of the train and leaving your bra in tatters so he pushes that thought away for later - maybe for when you’re curled under your blankets at night and in a deep, deep sleep.

The maddening ache in his pants would have taken him by surprise a few months ago, but Choso has gotten pretty acquainted with his body with the help of a few snagged medical books and Yuji’s laptop (which was still an enigma to Choso at times).

Both of his hands leave your breasts to instead push at his pants, the baggy material easily slipping down toned, lean thighs until they pool around his booted ankles.

His cock is pale but noticeably darker at the tip, and there’s a long, prominent vein that starts at the center of his shaft and disappears into black, coily pubes. His cock has never been able to stand up properly, weighted down by the sheer size, so it hangs between his thighs, thick and heavy, identical to his desire for you.

He wraps a hand around his turgid length, hissing through his teeth as he does, and pushes closer. You don’t move a muscle, standing stock-still as you try and fail to make sense of all these ‘phantom’ sensations.

If they were able, he’s sure your knuckles would have long since turned white with how hard you’re clutching onto the purse that’s now cradled against your chest. Your thighs shift together, inadvertently making your skirt rise a bit, heels noisily clinking against the platform of the car as you shuffle, and Choso spreads his legs and bends at the knees, a heaving breath leaving him as he slots his cock right through the opening between your thighs that you so graciously left.

The tights clinging to your thighs are smooth and silky, and coupled with the heat of your skin that perforates through, Choso feels himself jerk and twitch at the feeling. It’s leagues better than his hand, and his mind is already spinning at the thought of how you’ll feel on the inside.

His hand comes down heavy against the door beside your head, and you flinch as your head whips to the side to look, eyebrows furrowing when you notice the large handprint on the glass. His other hand curls around the pole to the left of you, hand gripping it so tight that he can feel the steel denting underneath his grip, and he rocks his hips, slowly.

Warm, soft, squishy, the adjectives flit through his mind one after the other, a new one coming with each push of his cock between your thighs. He’s hot all over, skin burning and strands of black plastering themselves to his damp face. His balls are tight, and his left eye twitches when a soft sound escapes your mouth, a look of bewilderment on your face.

He comes, hard. His orgasm locks all his muscles up and makes his teeth snap together so hard they nearly shatter. His eyes roll back, the pole caves in under the pressure of his grip, the window beside your head shatters as his hand goes through it, and he makes a split second decision to show himself in an effort to shield you from the hail of glass.

Choso can nearly see the scream of fright that gets caught in your throat at his sudden appearance, and a grin that lacks remorse twists onto his lips. Your bugged eyes slowly trail down, and the scream finally un-lodges itself when you catch sight of his softening length and the mess it’s left on your clothing.

Choso hides himself once again and steps off at the next station as he fixes his clothing. You stumble off as well, frantically heading towards the security booth as your eyes dart around to catch sight of him.

Soon, he thinks.

He’d let you see him again soon enough.

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

[brooooswriting]

Do you think you could do a part two to the tutors to lovers leighton fic absolutely loved it 😍 no pressure though xx

Tutors to lovers 2

“Y/n y/m/n y/l/n” your mothers voice suddenly rang.

Gosh you were fucked.

You and Leighton quickly pulled away, trying to fix whatever you could before turning to your mom. “Mom, what are you already doing here?” You asked hectically, your voice wavering.

“I should be asking you that. What are you doing here making out with that blondie? This is the reason you’re failing y/n” she said, her voice harsh as she took a step towards you. You were used to them being disappointed in you but it wasn’t often that they said it out loud like that. Leightons phone rang again and you gave her a nod to signal that it was okay if she left. She was reluctant but still did as it was her father calling.

“Mom please, she’s to only re-“

“No! This is not ok y/n and we are going to talk about it once your father is here. I am very disappointed in you” you sighed and gave her a nod. By now you were happy that Leighton left, unknown to you she could still hear every word your mother said. Luckily other students and their parents filled the room before your dad came. “We are going to sit down. Your father will join soon” your mother said making you nod and walk up to your place.

Not long after the blonde came into the room followed by her parents. You could feel your mom’s eyes on her, an annoyed look on her face when she realized that the blonde would sit next to you. Her parents gave you a warm smile and greeted you with a hello which you quickly returned. Leighton send you a comforting smile, shifting so her thigh was touching yours to give you some comfort. A couple of minutes later your father joined, followed by some whispering between your parents and then a disappointed look from your dad. It was obvious that she told him what she walked into making this weekend an even bigger hell. Throughout the whole lecture your parents nagged you. ‘Why didn’t you know what?’ ‘Why didn’t you say that?’ ‘This was literally so easy’ ‘Didn’t you learn anything?’ And even if you said something they played it down, ‘your sister was able to do that in 9th grade’

Leighton in contrast was extremely proud of you, it may have taken a while but you finally understood the topic. “You did great” she whispered into your ear, her hand finding yours for a moment. This interaction alone gave you new energy to deal with your parents and their disgusting behavior. Once the lesson ended it was time for lunch in the cafeteria, another nightmare of yours.

“So, do you have any friends?” Your dad asked, even though it was more rhetorical you decided to answer.

“Yes dad, I do. I’m not some weirdo” you walked in front of them, leading them towards the cafeteria. As soon as all three of you had food, you walked to your usual table. On the way there you stopped at Lila’s, caneens, Willows, Jenna’s and some others just to show your parents that you had a lot of friends. You couldn’t help the smile that came onto your face when you saw your usual table, Whitney, Bela, Kimberly and obviously Leighton, sitting there with an annoyed look on their face. Each of them trying to tune out their parents.

“Those are your friends?” Your mother’s voice was clearly portraying her emotions which made you sigh again. Probably the 100th time today. You gave them a nod and settled next to Whitney, opposite from Leighton.

“Oh, you sat next to Leighton in math just now right?” Henry asked once he looked at you, a friendly smile on his face. You smiled back and nodded at him.

“Yeah, I’m y/n. She’s actually the only reason I’m passing that class, she’s so smart” you send both of them a smile before pushing your food around. Normally you were more than happy with cafeteria food when it was build your own pasta bowl day, but your mother had made a comment about your weight just before lunch.

Leighton send you a quick text asking if you were alright as you didn’t eat, her face full of concern as she looked up at you. You only gave her a nod with the best smile you could muster.

“You shouldn’t wear this top, it looks terrible” your mother suddenly said making everybody at the table look at you. You only gave her a nod, to scared that you’d cry if you talked, before standing up and leaving the room. The blonde waited for a moment before excusing herself ‘to get another water’ but it was no use. She couldn’t find you anywhere and when she texted you, you told her that you’d be back shortly.

And you were. Fifteen minutes later you came back, dressed differently than before and new layer of makeup on your face. You sat back down giving everybody a small smile, trying to act as if nothing had happened. But all of them knew, they weren’t stupid and they wished that they could do something. “We should go. We have another event planned” your parents said and stood up, giving you an expecting look which made you stand up too.

“I’ll see you later” you told the rest turning back to your parents “I’ll just use the restrooms real quick” they nodded and told you that they would be waiting in the room of the event, not caring about walking with you. You sighed once you entered the bathroom, happy that it was empty as it gave you some space. You’d have never thought that your parents could make you feel even worse than they already did all those years, but here they were destroying everything new you had and humiliating you in front of your friends, and even worse Leighton. As you stared into the mirror new tears formed in your eyes. You hectically wiped them away when the door open just to reveal the blonde.

“Hey, I just wanted to see how you’re doing” she said as you turned towards her, your back against the sink with your hands resting on top of the cold surface.

“I’m good, thank you” it was a good lie, everybody would have believed it. With a family like that you had gotten good at faking and lying. But after spending hours on hours cramped up in a dorm or in the library there was no way that you could lie to Leighton, especially after you tried many times just to stop the tutoring. The problem was that, even though she could see past the lie, she didn’t know what to say. All those years she had complained about her family and sure sometimes they could be annoying and rude, especially her mother but they were nothing against yours. Plus, her mother showed that she could change, she was happy for Leighton when she came out and supported her when it came to the decision that she wasn’t joining kappa.

She looked at you for a moment before deciding that there was nothing she could say that would even out what your parents said. So she instead leaned in to kiss you, pulling you closer to give you comfort. It helped, a lot. The closeness to her gave you new energy, you just had to wait until your parents left again so you could be happy again. It was as easy as that. That’s atleast what you tried to tell yourself. She only pulled away when there were footsteps in front of the door. “My parents want to invite you and your family to have dinner with us tonight, we are going to the fanciest place in town. So I’ll come over and help you choose an outfit when our parents go back to the hotel ok?”

You didn’t have it in you to have a discussion, so you only nodded. “I should go now before they kill me” you pressed a kiss to her cheek and went to the building next door, trying to find your parents in the sea of people. Sadly, you found them rather quick and sat down.

“The Murray’s found us” your dad started the moment your ass touched the chair, “they invited us to dinner. Great. As if we haven’t already spend enough time with them.” You decided not to say anything, everything you said they’d use against you.

“We want you to break up with that blonde” your mother added moments later making you freeze.

“What? No way. Why would I?”

“Because she’s bad for you. You’re failing” you could only shake your head, it amazed you how they would never listen to you.

“She’s the reason I’m not failing, mother. She tutors me and now I’m got from an E to a C and the prof said that if I keep up the work I’ll easily get a B and he’d give me some extra work that will get me an A. Than I’d have a gpa from 3.8. What more do you want?” You argued. There was nothing else you could do to please them any more. You’d never be enough for their standards.

“Don’t talk to your mother that way” you couldn’t believe it. Of course that was the only thing he heard, not the fact that you had a great GPA or the fact that you found a smart, loving partner. No, only that you weren’t 100% nice to your mom.

4 hours later, you walked into the restaurant immediately seeing the table filled with your friends and their parents. You were clad in a suit like outfit that Leighton had chosen, the colors matching what she was wearing. “Hello everybody” you said and sat down between the blonde and Kimberly’s mother.

“Ah, great to see you y/n. Where are your parents? Still waiting for the valley?” Belas dad asked, receiving an elbow from her mother.

“Uhm, no. They said that they couldn’t make it, sorry” you mumbled, fumbling around with the sleeves of your top. It was embarrassing but you felt like you would disappoint the rest if you didn’t show up.

“Well, I for one am very happy that you’re here. You’re such a nice young lady” Kimberly’s mother said, her hand squeezing your shoulder in a comforting manner. The rest of the table nodded in agreement making you blush a bit.

“Thank you very much Mrs. Finkel, that means a lot to me” the woman talked with you for a bit before you guys decided to order. While you waited you talked to everybody at the table, it felt like a big family. Something you had always wished for. Just as Evette asked you something you saw your parents walk in. And sit at another table. You swallowed heavily before quickly focusing on Evette again, hoping that nobody else noticed them.

“So, y/n, any suitors?” She concluded before looking at you expectantly. You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say until you felt leightons had squeeze your thigh.

“Actually, I’m dating Leighton” you gave them a smile as you intertwined your hands together and placed them on your thigh. PDA wasn’t her strong suit and you were fine with that.

“Oh that’s so great. Whitney, why don’t you have somebody like her?” Her mom said causing everybody at the table to giggle. You collected all your courage and looked over at the Murray’s who gave you a warm smile, your shoulders immediately relaxing. You turned your head further to look at the blonde who was already looking at you. You only smiled at each other, forgetting everybody around you for a moment.

Once dinner was finished and paid, all of you walked out. Running into a, to you unknown, tradition. Family pictures. “Alright, Leigh, come on. Fix your hair quickly. We want to take the picture” Henry said, getting his phone out already.

“Oh, here. I can take the picture” you extended your hand, but never received the phone.

“No, you can’t. You’re on the picture. You’re family now” her mom took your extended hand and pulled you next to your girlfriend who smiled brightly. You positioned yourself slightly behind her with a hand on her lower back, while her mother stood next to you. All of you smiled brightly while Bela took the photo.

“Take another one just of them, they look so good tonight” her mother said as both her parents detached from you. A small laugh left you, before you scotched a bit closer to her and soon after you could hear the click of the camera.

“Wait, not that quick. I want one with a bit of action” Bela said, her brows raised which made you and her parents laugh while Leighton hid her face in your neck. If they were your parents you’d probably also be embarrassed but like this is it was quite funny.

“A bit of action” you mocked quietly, causing the blonde to laugh and leave your neck. Instead she turned towards you so she could look at you. Unsure of what to do you just looked at each other until you both smiled. You decided to just take the shot as now everybody was watching you, you quickly leaned in and kissed her softly until you heard the click again.

“So cute” Kimberly’s mom said, earning an agreeing hum from her daughter.

“Let me look” Leighton demanded, scrolling through the hundreds of pictures her roommate took. She stopped at a specific one, smiling slightly. It was the moment you just smiled at each other, you couldn’t lie it was a really sweet and amazing picture which you’d definitely set as your background.

“Alright ladies. The car is there” her father said, opening the door for his wife. They were really cute, you couldn’t deny that.

“Oh, I think I forgot my lipliner inside. I’ll be back in a second” you asked if you should go for her out with her but she denied, saying that you could already get in the car. You waited outside, you felt like it was impolite to already get in. When she came out a couple of minutes later, you opened the door for her and then scooted in after her.

“Thank you for the evening and the driving, that was really nice. And it was really great to meet both of you” you said as all of you got out of the car. They really took you in today.

“We can only say the same. We are sorry for how the rest of the day went, but we are happy that you ate with us” they both hugged their daughter before hugging you. “We are going to the hotel now, sleep well.” Both of them said their goodbyes before disappearing, leaving you and Leighton on the street in front of the college.

“Wanna sleep over tonight? My roommate is sleeping at the same hotel as their parents” you asked. You had wrapped your arm around her shoulder as you walked back. She immediately agreed, a quiet room with you sounded better than her loud dorm.

It didn’t take long for you two to settle on the couch after changing into some sweats and a hoodie. There was no way to fight of the smile that crept onto your face when you saw her wearing your clothes. Getting them back was out of question though. You were cuddling on the couch while watching some random movie when there was a knock on your door. Reluctantly you both pulled away so you could open the door. “Mom? Dad?” You asked confused to why they were here after leaving you the whole evening.

“Hello. We just wanted to say goodbye” your father said, not really looking into your eyes. He was more focused on watching something behind you.

“And we wanted to say sorry. We treated you poorly and shouldn’t have said the things we said” your mother added. They weren’t a hundred percent honest but it was more than you imagined.

“Well, thank you. Have a save ride home” you said unsure of how to react. You definitely weren’t going to say that it was okay cause it definitely wasn’t.

“Goodbye y/n, goodbye Leighton” that was what really shocked you. Them saying goodbye to her was a mystery, a couple of hours ago they wanted you to break up with her. Confused you settled back on your previous spot on the couch.

“What was that?” You asked, your brows furrowed.

“Well, who knows” you immediately recognized a weird pitch in her voice. You studied her face carefully before deciding that something was off.

“What did you do?” She grinned up at you guiltily.

“I may have had a talk with them at the restaurant. And before you get mad at me, I couldn’t let them treat you like this. You’re such a Valuable acquisition to all of our lives and they were making you feel bad about your whole life. It sucked and they shouldn’t be able to do it without consequences” she explained, sitting up so she could look at you. She could be overprotective of the people she loved and she was kinda scared that she’d scare you off with it, but she was utterly wrong. You couldn’t help but admire her.

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you love” you pushed her chin up with two fingers before pressing multiple kisses to her lips. She really was the whole package and you wouldn’t change her for anything. “Nobody ever made me feel so good about myself” you added with a smile before standing up and extending your hand. “Come on, let’s go to bed” you smirked. She was up faster than you could realize, pulling you into your bedroom.

Gosh, you were so in love with her.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #leighton murray x reader #renee rapp x reader #tslocg x reader

[multific]

Be Paw-Sitive

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Inspired by @rilakeila​'s work

Summary: You are an animagus who can turn into a cat. But one morning, you wake up to an unpleasant surprise. 

You were majorly screwed.

How were you supposed to go to classes like this?!

Seem like your private lessons with Professor McGonagall didn't pay off as well as you thought.

Now, here you were stuck with a pair of ears and a tail!

You must have tried to turn in your sleep and somehow got halfway stuck. That wouldn't be the issue. The issue was that no matter what you tried, you couldn't make them go away.

And your first class was with Snape... great. 

No student knew about your abilities. Some professors knew but that's all.

You wanted to call in sick, pretending you were ill, but you also knew no one would believe you.

One last attempt you turned fully into a feline before turning back but the ears and tail were still there. You knew you had to go to class. You knew you couldn't reveal your secret.

You let out a sigh before grabbing your robe to hide your tail and a hat for your head. You thanked the winter at least it will be passable on the hallways, maybe not inside the class but you will deal with that later...

"Miss Y/L/N... I thought you were aware that it is rude to wear a hat inside my class." 

Of course, Snape couldn't just let it pass, but you were a great actress.

"Of course, Professor, I got ill last night and I am shivering as it is, if you could allow me please to keep it on, I learned so much for today's test, I didn't want to miss it." Snape gave you a look but let it pass. Just this once.

After class when everyone left, you stayed behind.

"Professor, I do apologise for the hat."

"You are not sick." his voice was so monotone.

"No. I woke up this morning and..." you took off your hat and showed him your ears. "And I also have a tail..." 

"I'll talk with Minerva. See if she can help, for now go to your next class." you smiled and turned to leave.

You always liked Snape. There was something about him, something behind his eyes, he was hiding his kindness and you saw that.

Your day went on quite well, pretending to be sick so you could keep your hat on. Professor McGonagall unfortunately, had no idea how to change you back, she said she will read some books and get back to you as soon as possible.

Later that day, you sat defeated in a hallway. It was rather quiet since no one really used that hallway.

You let out a long sigh before trying to return to your book.

"Here you are. I have been looking for you." came a voice and as you looked up, you saw Mattheo walking over to you. "Here." he handed you a small brown bag and you looked at him confused. "Take it, it's not going to explode!" Mattheo and you barely spoke before. He was a friend of yours, you would say. 

You took the bag and opened it, only to find medicine in there.

"The lady at the store said these are the best for a cold." he explained as you looked back up at him. "You said during many classes today that you feel ill."

Was he worried about you?

"Thank you!" you yelled after him as he walked away. He raised one of his hands to wave goodbye. 

You felt your heart swell.

You might have just developed a crush on Mattheo Riddle...

---

Two days later and you had the same issue. 

The professors had no idea how to help you and every possibility you tried out failed.

Dumbledor decided to officially give you an exemption from classes for the time being. He respected your decision that you didn't want to share your secret with the students. 

Everyone was told that you were sick.

You truly didn't like lying to others, especially your friends, but you were also not ready to share that you are an animagus.

There was a sudden knock on your door.

"O-One moment!" you yelled, getting into bed and covering your head with your hoodie. "Come in!"

It was Mattheo, the last person you expected. 

"Hi." he said as he closed the door behind himself. 

"Hello."

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm a little better thank you." you smiled as he looked around your room.

He noticed the books scattered around the place. Everything looked and smelled like you.

"What's this?" he said as he walked over to your table, finding the bag he gave you days ago. "Y-You didn't take the meds I gave you?"

"Um..." but you saw him rolling his eyes.

"Are you serious? I thought you were different from the others! You could have told me, I know I am the Dark Lord's son! But I am not like him!"

"What?" you asked, confused.

"For fucks sake! You didn't take these because you hate me just like the others right?!" he yelled before running towards the door but you were also fast. You grabbed his arm and turned him towards you. He was angry.

"I-that's not why. I don't hate you." you said but he rolled his eyes. 

"You don't even look sick. Did you lie to the teachers?!" he asked as he looked at your face. 

The hatred in his eyes made you scared. Scared that you will lose him.

"I didn't." 

"What is going on here?"

"I can't tell you and please stop yelling."

"I yell if I want to Y/N! You made me worry for you that you were sick! I got you medicine and now two days later I find out that you didn't even take them! Is this because I'm a Riddle?! Why did you lie?!"

"I didn't... I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me?! Y/N, I thought you were better than that. I thought you could see beyond a last name, not like the others. Looks I was wrong." he moved to get to the door but you stood in his way, leaning against the door, not letting him out. "Move out of my way." but you shook your head, no. "MOVE!" he yelled louder than before and it really irritated your ears. You covered your face as you slid down against the door, tears running down your face.

"I don't hate you, please don't hate me." is what you said but he yelled again, this time it was your name. And just like that, you were gone.

Mattheo's eyes nearly fell out of his head as he now saw a cat where you were previously. The cat ran under the bed and Mattheo stood there, frozen. 

His brain tried to function but he just couldn't move or think.

Took him a good minute before he knelt down on the floor and looked under the bed. 

"Come out please." he said with such a soft voice, it even surprised him. He tried to reach under the bed but you moved away, out of his reach. "Come on, Y/N." but you didn't budge. He let out a sigh. "I don't hate you. I really don't. I was just angry, I'm sorry for yelling. I really like you, Y/N. So, my mind went into a spiral when I thought you hated me, but I get it now, please come out." but you didn't move. 

Mattheo moved to sit on the bed, deciding to give you time and space.

You moved from under the bed. Getting out and looking at him as he kept on staring at the wall. You didn't turn back, deciding to stay as a feline for now. 

You jumped up on the bed and this is when he noticed you. You sat with your tail moving around you, you were thinking as well.

"I didn't know you were an animagus. I guess no one else knows." you shook your head, no. "Do the professors know?" you nodded, yes. "Ah, makes sense. You are a really cute cat you know. You look very fluffy and... sorry." He tried to reach over possibly to pet you but stopped. Still sitting on the bed, you took a deep breath before turning back.

"Please don't tell the others. They would tease and bully me." you begged as you moved closer to him. "I didn't go to classes because I can't make my tail and ears disappear," you said pointing at your head. "I'm sorry for lying. I never expected you to buy me medicine." he nodded.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I really like you too, Mattheo. I felt really bad for lying, but you understand why I couldn't tell you." he nodded before he looked at you, smiling a little.

"Your eyes are also... um... cat-like?" you let out a long sigh.

"Professor McGonagall said it is normal for a young animagus to have certain characteristics like that. Eyes are normal but ears and tail... not so much."

"I think it's cute." he reached up, touching the ears on top of your head. "Would you purr if I scratched here?"

"No, I bite."

"You are not a nice kitty then." he smirked and you smiled.

"I don't plan on being one." you played along with him and it made him smile. "I am a very bad kitty especially when someone who isn't my boyfriend touches me."

"Oh, you have a boyfriend now?"

"I do."

"Lucky fella."

"Yeah, he brings me medicine when I'm sick but he is rather bothered by his last name."

"I'm not! People are." you smiled as you moved even closer to him, and he moved his arm around you. "I'll try and get you some notes from classes." his hand ran up and down your back, it found your tail as he flinched away a little but you moved it back to his hand. 

"Next time, please don't yell at me. I hate it when people argue and my hearing is sensitive."

"Sorry, Darling." a comfortable silence filled the room. "I'm glad you are not sick at least. I was rather worried."

"I still have a tail and ears..."

"They are at least cute." you looked at him before moving your head to his neck. 

"You are cute." you said as you yawned a little. 

"So... should I leave before your boyfriend comes back?"

"He is a big scary Slytherin so... you might want to." you smiled as you moved back to sit.

"As soon as your ears have disappeared, I will take you on a date."

"We don't have to wait! I can wear my hat!" you smiled as he watched your eyes shine. He gave you a nod before you jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. 

"Kitten, take it slow please, I still have a class."

"Oh... will you skip?"

"I mean it is... of course I will." you smiled and resumed brushing your hair. 

You were really excited about this new chapter in your life. 

A boyfriend who accepts you and didn't judge you for being an animagus.

Part 2 SMUT

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x female reader #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #animagus reader

[charcubed]

"What did we do wrong?" "I don't know."

🙋🏻 I think I might.

It's the hot cocoa.

Or rather… it's Loki semi-unintentionally siding with Sylvie over Mobius.

In this episode, that's the tipping point. And so is lack of trust.

What we just watched is the version where things go very wrong and they fail.

But here's the delightful part to remember: things had to go wrong exactly like this, so eventually things can go very right. Because as "wrong" as this was, it had at least one purpose: Loki pruning himself.

That being said... "What's wrong?"

We've got a list.

-Timely's gone.

-Miss Minutes is back (and so is Renslayer).

-Dox and her team are dead.

Now work it backwards.

Miss Minutes / Renslayer get in, Brad is freed, and Dox and her team are killed. D-90 isn't there.

Why isn't he there?

He was sent to be with Victor.

D-90 is killed and Victor is taken at the hot cocoa machine, which delays everything.

Why are they at that machine?

Because Mobius got cocoa.

Why did Mobius get hot cocoa?

Because he wanted pie, but Sylvie yelled at him.

And when Loki didn't defend him in that crucial moment and actually walked away from him instead, Mobius simply got hot cocoa by himself as a pick-me-up.

Therefore: Lokius is the tipping point.

What did they do wrong?

What happened?

Loki and Mobius were separated and weren't on the same page. THAT'S what happened. And so, everything fell apart.

Words – or the lack of them, in Loki's case above when he didn't defend Mobius – can change everything.

For good or for bad.

(These shots are back to back:)

Lack of trust is also why things fall apart.

Sylvie attacks Mobius because he walks away, trusting the work to O.B. and Casey and Victor.

She can't fathom that. She sees it as a weakness. But it's one of his greatest strengths, and it's their only way forward.

It's also part of the "trust for others" theme that's been present from the very first episode of the show, and it's a primary lesson that Loki's first had to learn through his relationship with and love for Mobius.

And the necessity of trust is showcased throughout this episode in other places. Sylvie accuses Loki of putting a lot of faith in the others, and simultaneously she keeps talking about the TVA as a corrupted place / institution instead of seeing the individual people capable of change.

But Loki explains to her that it's about the people. He lists the names of his new family – the people he trusts – as being the heart of things. What's worth saving and worth fighting for.

Brad and Dox are mirroring the trust theme here too, of course.

Brad doesn't trust B-15, and he doesn't pick trusting or aligning with anyone. He dooms Dox and the others to die.

But she sees the big picture and is willing to die with integrity rather than betray the PEOPLE of the TVA.

And Victor?

He says he doesn't trust anyone… but then he chooses to change. With O.B., he chooses to have a partner.

(Not dissimilar to the ways we've seen Loki change over the show, too.)

And were it not for the ~hot cocoa,~ in THIS regard, things were going "according to plan."

So as Victor says in the season 2 trailer in a clip we haven't heard yet (!!!): they have to "make the hard choice," of course.

Trust each other, work to fix what's broken, have hope, and STAY.

And Loki and Mobius, the personification of chaos and order in balance, HAVE to stay together or it turns to shit.

Loki can't turn into a better leader if he ends up being Who Remains all by himself. He's gonna need his partner and the rest of his people for the TVA to truly change.

But how are they gonna do that if they all just blew up? Lmao.

Well… that part of the theory's a work in progress.

But this involves both butterfly effects and time loops. Somehow we'll likely be going backwards to earlier versions of them that will be trying again.

And depending on just how far back they go… Loki and Mobius' influence on each other may be a snake eating its own tail, just like Ouroboros and Victor.

Regardless, pretty sure Mobius is correct here. As he tends to be, lol.

It's gonna be Loki's turn. God of Mischief becoming the Loki Who Remains that Mobius needs, etc.

And it always comes down to the two of them at the heart of things, somehow.

Last thing:

I'm not convinced those versions of them all survived the blast that happened because of these wrong turns, to be honest with you.

But if anyone did… the gods did.

And they're (hopefully) not gonna make the same mistakes twice.

---

Originally posted as a thread on Twitter here.

My other Loki posts on Tumblr are under the tag "chars loki posts."

#lokius meta #loki meta #loki spoilers #loki season 2 #loki #mobius #THE HEART OF THE TVA #loki theories #chars loki posts #this took so long to crosspost because tumblr has a 30 image limit APPARENTLY. I had to improvise

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (II)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 1,911

CW: violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen ( can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N thank you soo much for all the likes on the last post, I hope you all enjoy this one!

laughter filled the Godswood as Aemond chased after Aemma, circling the weirwood tree.

Their friendship was admired around the keep, the girl adored by all. Somehow keeping her sweet nature following her brother’s ‘prank’, though she had become timid, often hiding behind Aemond, and never letting go of his hand.

Aemond adored this, he wanted her to be utterly dependent on him, and she was. She listened to what Aemond said, often refused to do something if Aemond did want her to or was unable to come.

It was why her mother considered a match between them following the birth of her newest brother, Joffrey. Aemond had already demanded he one day become her sworn sword once he had completed his training, and she doubted he would accept Aemma’s marriage to anyone but himself.

“Aemma!” he ran up to her, picking her up and spinning around before they fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

He sighed, turning to his side “My father wishes for me to start attending dragon lessons”.

“Then I shall come also” Aemma declared, grabbing his hand, “then once we have learned we shall claim a dragon together!”

“But Aegon and your brothers will be there” Aemond spoke, trying to deter her.

“so, you don’t want me to come?” she pouted

“of course, but… they’ll be there… and they are nothing but cruel” he insisted “ I do not want them to torment both you and me over having no dragon”.

“But we are Targaryens, so what if we do not have a dragon… we are dragons!” she laughed, “please Aemond, I could not bear to part from you”.

“It will only be for a few hours”

“And what am I to do?” she got up “Wait and sew? No, I shall come!” she demanded

All Aemond could do is sigh in defeat. Though he really he wasn’t sad about it, it was not like he wanted to part from her either.

Her brothers hadn’t expected her to show up. Much to their disappointment, she had kept her distance from her brothers and Aegon for the past year. Truth be told they did not expect the prank to become what it was, to make Aemma cling to Aemond more and more. 

At dinners, she sat between their mother and father, eating as fast as possible, and on the odd occasion their grandsire called for a family dinner she would place herself between Aemond and Helaena. not uttering a word to her brothers or Aegon, running away when they were near.

And yet today she showed up, hand in hand with Aemond.

When they had heard Aemond was to start attending lessons in the dragon pit, Aegon had come up with the idea, the prank. And Jace and Luke being the jealous brothers they were more than happy to pull it.

All three of the boys regretted their prank on her and had made efforts to reconcile, all failing, miserably. And this prank would become not just a prank on Aemond, but a prank on her also seeing as her Aemond were an extension of one another, much like a dragon and its rider. what one felt, the other did too. They could almost read each other’s minds, always knowing what the other was thinking or saying.

“Aemond, we have  a surprise for you.” Aegon announced, as Jace finished with Vermax.

“Do you have one for me too?” she asked, shyly.

Aegon’s eyes softened, it was the first time she had spoken to him in gods know how long and though he would not and admit it , Aegon had grown a soft spot for the brown-haired girl. “No Aemma, but I’m sure you and Aemond could share” the last part caused Luke to giggle before running of to fetch whatever the surprise was.

“What is it?” Aemond asked, grabbing Aemma’s hand tighter and pulling her into him as Aegon wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“Something very special” he winked.

“you two are the only ones without a dragon”. 

“indeed” Aemond nodded.

“And we felt bad about it, so… we found you one, Aemond” Aegon announced.

“Found one? Where?” Aemma asked, excited for Aemond, they had always agreed to share a dragon, should one manage to claim one.

“The gods provided” Aegon stated simply, before Jace and Luke came running forward, a rope in hand…. and a pig attached to it.

“Behold…the pink dread!” they announced, as Aemond and Aemma’s face fell.

"Be sure to mount her carefully, the first flights are always rough" they laughed.

Aemond ran off, Aemma was quick to follow.

“The prince Aemond and princess Aemma” a kings guard announced dragging them into queen Alicent  chambers. 

“Aemond, Aemma?” the  queen questioned. “What did you do?”

“they did it again” Helena spoke.

“After how many times you've been warned, must I have you two confined to your chambers?

“They made me do it” Aemond insisted 

“as if you needed the encouragement” Alicent shakes her head “Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.”

“they gave him a pig” Aemma shouted, seeing Aemonds frustration 

“A what?” 

“They said they found a dragon for me… But it was a pig.” he looked down “they said we could share it”. 

“You will have a dragon one day., both off you” Alicent reassured. 

“He'll have to close an eye.” Helaena whispered lowly. 

“I know it”.

“They all laughed… they even made a tail and wings for it!”

Only Aegon received punishment from the prank, her brothers were let off her mother and grandsire deeming it childish fun and teasing, much to Aemma’s disappointment .

She returned to the cold shoulder, refusing to even acknowledge their presence, not that she did that much before.

The rift between the two families grew even further, rivalry between the mothers spreading towards the children. This time not for the throne, but for Aemma.

Aemond was always with her, the only time they did have with Aemond alone, was their swordsman lessons. Lessons which Aemond had begun to take his lessons with Ser Cole seriously, taking on the role of being Aemma’s defender and protector.

“Keep your feet light and your hands heavy.” Criston ordered.

Aemma stood above the training yard, watching beside her grandsire and the hand.

“This is the stuff, Lyonel…. Lads that learn together, train together... knock each other down, pick each other up. They will certainly form a lifelong bond, wouldn't you agree?” her grandsire spoke, a proud gleam in his voice.

“That is the hope, Your Grace.” Lynol strong agreed, “should the princess be witnessing this, your grace?” he questioned, looking towards her. She had brought a book to read Viserys, though she doubted she could sway his attention away from his sons and grandsons.

“I wish to watch Aemond, lord strong, he had wished to show me his progress” she announced, looking down proudly at Aemond as he swung his sword at the strawman.

“Ahh, let her stay, it is rare I get to see her without her shadow as is” Viserys laughed.

“of course, your grace”

“I've won my first bout, Ser Criston.” She heard Aegon gloat. “My opponent sues for mercy.”

“You'll have a new opponent then, my Lord of the Straw.” Cole spoke “Let's see if you can touch me… You and your brother” he nodded to Aemond.

“Weapons up, boys… Give your enemies no quarter” he spoke, focusing all his attentions on her uncles, as her brothers stood to the side, before greeting Ser Harwin.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston” Harwin spoke.

“You question my method of instruction, ser?”

“Oh, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.”

“Very well.” Ser Criston sneered “Jacaerys, come here…You spar with Aegon…Eldest son against eldest son”

Harwin scoffed “It's hardly a fair match.”

“I know you've never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn, a fair match isn't something anyone should expect.” Cole snarked “Blades up… Engage.”

“grandsire” Aemma mumbled “it’s hardly fair”.

“oh, its just boys being boys Aemma” he dismissed, focusing on the yard once more.

She averted her eyes, focusing back on her book. Lynol strong too focused on her, his eyes watching her, assessing her. His gaze was soft, but he looked at he as if he knew something she didn’t.

“Lord Strong?” she spoke “would you like to read with me?” she asked, flinching at the sound of metal clashing.

“of course, princess” he nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“You dare put hands on me?” she hears Aegon scream, capturing her and Lynol attention.

“You forget yourself, Strong.” She hears Cole spit out “That is the Prince.

“This is what you teach, Cole? Cruelty... to the weaker opponent?” Harwin scoffed

“Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual, Commander” he snarked back, moving in closer saying something she could not hear. Though it must not of been pleasant judging by the punch Harwin landed on her face.

“Stop!” she screamed, flinching away and burying her face in her hands.

“Stop this!” her grandsire repeated, as guards dragged Harwin away from Coles laughing bloody face.

After that everything changed.

Her mother grew desperate, having ser Harwin sent to Harrenhal. He was close to their family and his departure seemed to deeply upset her mother and Jace. she was not too bothered, her mother’s attention now lied in the new babe, Joffrey, and council meetings. She was looking for more and more support, Harwin outburst, and marriage offers seemed to be the best way to secure them.

“I wish to speak. Be seated.” Her mother spoke up, as the small council meeting was pulled to a close “I have felt the... strife... between our families of late, my queen.” She spoke to Alicent “And for any offense given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house. And long before that, we were friends.” Alicent nodded. “My daughter Aemma will inherit Dragonstone after me, I propose a marriage between Aemma and your son, Aemond, the pair are already attached at the hip, let them be the glue that once binds our two families. Ally ourselves... once and for all, let them rule Dragonstone together”

“A most judicious proposition.” Viserys agreed, smiling.

“Additionally, if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, both Aemond and Aemma will have their choice of them, uh... a symbol of our goodwill.”

Alicent nodded, considering. “Rhaenyra” she sighed, looking down. She wanted time to think.

“Oh, Seven Hells. Um...”

“My dear... a dragon's egg is a handsome gift.” Viserys spoke to Alicent.

“The King and I thank you for your offer and we will consider it duly.” She nodded, dismissingly “You must rest now, husband.”

“Yes.”

“The proposal is a good one, my queen. We're a family. Let us put aside these childish quarrels. Join hands and be stronger for it.” Viserys spoke, as they made the way to his chambers.

“yes, Aemond and Aemma shall be pleased” she nodded, “but she is desperate” she sneered “She feels the earth washing away beneath her feet and now she expects us to ignore her transgressions and for me to marry my son to her...” she hesitated, “only daughter”

“Alicent” he sighed, “we agree, on the betrothal?”

“yes” she sighed, keep her beloved daughter in her grasps and she shall have Rhaenyra eating out the palm of her hand.

next part

Taglist (bold wouldn't let me tag)

my lady strong: @aemondssuit @idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyy18 @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @dreamingofyourmoons @aleemendoza2425-blog

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#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targeryen #yandere hotd #yandere aemond targaryen #ewan nation #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #aemond x oc #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond fic #aemond targeryen x oc #aemond targeryen x fem!oc #hotd smut #aemond x reader #aemond x targaryen! reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x female reader #dark aemond x oc #dark aemond targaryen

[idyllic-affections]

i feel like alhaithams child would like the arts. they’d be smart and intelligent and everything but they’d also love the arts. that’s what got alhaitham to question the sages in the first place, seeing his child’s emerald eyes light up when they are creative (and uncle kaveh giving them tips on art), he has to wonder what is so BAD about art. trying to hid his child’s talent breaks him more than words could ever explain and even though it’s for their safety, he feels like he’s being the worst father in the world. however, the secret meetings with nilou for dance, the art lessons with kaveh, and him sneaking yarns, fabrics, threads, and art supplies are ways for them to explore art until something changes. and if anyone asks him why his clothes have embroidered green on them, he says he bought it from another region even though it breaks his heart to not brag about how talented his child is.

(sorry if this is all over the place, my brain just couldn’t stop thinking about this  scenario)

suffocation.

summary. alhaitham can't understand what the issue with the arts is.

trigger & content warnings. alhaitham feels like a bad dad :((

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. slight angst, reverse comfort. dad!alhaitham & reader, implied kaveh & reader, implied nilou & reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns used for reader. this post is an expansion of scholarly lineage.

author's thoughts. teehee.... soft angst for you all, in preparation for the worse things i have planned <3

Alhaitham truly, wholeheartedly has failed to understand what it is about the arts that has the Sages so disturbed.

He really wasn't the type to needlessly question them. In his eyes, it was more trouble than it was worth. Being unnecessarily difficult would only bring trouble to himself and his household. Their stance on the arts didn't affect him, it didn't seem to affect Kaveh all that badly, but [Name]...

It affected his child.

Too young to voice their opinion in a way that was safe and effective like Kaveh did, yet also too old to remain blissfully unaware of how stifling the world truly was. The Sages' stance on anything even remotely creative affected his child very deeply, because they were very aware of it, yet could not do anything to combat it.

And his child—Gods, he swore they were a talent to be beheld. From Kaveh always, always ranting to him about how skilled they were and how they had so much potential to be one of the greatest minds in Sumeru both academically and artistically (Alhaitham can't really tell if Kaveh is exaggerating or not, but he wouldn't put it past his child to be so brilliant), to Nilou gushing to him about how she just adored getting to teach them and how quick they learned... he couldn't help but begin to wonder. To question.

What right did the Sages have to suppress the artistic side of Sumeru?

What right did they have to suppress his child's brilliance? His child's, of all people's. He was appalled at the thought, really. He was offended on their behalf, though he did not let it show.

When his coat went missing, he didn't think much of it. He'd assumed it was Kaveh's doing at first—it wouldn't be the first time the Architect left in a hurry and took the wrong things with him—but his theory was disproven in a few mere hours.

His child soon returned his coat to him with an excited smile.

He was quick to notice the vaguely glimmery shine of green thread, embroidered skillfully along the edges, and—

And his heart broke apart in his chest. He knew he wouldn't be able to boast, to tell his curious coworkers that the embroidery was his child's beautiful work. It would get him in trouble. It would get them in trouble.

What kind of father was he, cruelly hiding his child's talent from the world? What kind of father was he? What kind of father would fail so horribly, as he was now, to uplift his child? Circumstance be damned.

What kind of father was he to be behaving this way?

Somehow, they seemed to read his mind.

"It's not really your fault, baba," they told him. "Anyway, I didn't embroider it for praise. I embroidered it because I thought it would look nice on you."

His coat was gingerly discarded off to the side, and his arms were around his child before they could even process what had happened.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's drabbles 🌸 #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #platonic alhaitham x reader

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SPY × Family: Chapter 94 analysis unhinged thoughts

hello hello! i am back with my thoughts for the latest chapter! please note that there are spoilers ahead for chapter 94! (Long-ish post incoming?)

Okay, so I loved this chapter. I'm a person who loves locked room murder mystery type stories, so this definitely scratched that itch for me. Obviously, I'm biased.

Analysis (of sorts?):

Right off the bat I can say that this chapter isn't really oriented on emotions or certain character dynamics. It is pretty plot heavy (but. not to the main plot. this chapter in itself has a plot to its own, but I really really liked it).

So the chapter starts with Bondman facing off an enemy in a snowy mountain...

which, of course, inspires Anya to have an adventure of her own. She asks Loid to take her skiing, only to be flatly denied...

BUT! Agent Anya has tricks up her sleeve (threatening to cry), and that works on our dear, super-spy Agent Twilight (he's so weak and stupid y'all.)

side note:

he thinks he's soooo cool. he's not.

Anyway, we get Twilight trying to explain skiing to Yor, which... fails, kinda. we also get gymnastics from Yor, (SHE's the cool one), and a half-baked explanation from her about learning all that from a gymnastics teacher.

The Forgers are trapped in a snowy blizzard, which leads them to take refuge in a lodge. They meet a group of young college students, who regale them with a tale of a bloody snowman who kills people in the dark.

Might just be me, but this design reminds me of Type-F from the new Code White movie (note: this isn't exactly a spoiler, I haven't seen the movie, but this is what's on the wiki and in the trailers). The snowy backdrop + this Type-F-esque design might be a homage to the movie? Probably just me, though, haha.

Anyway, onto the main focus of the story (kidding, it's not):

WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL..... YOR AND LOID SLEEPING ON THE SAME BED.... WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN....

(jk, it probably wouldn't have happened, but a girl can dream)

"Eh, why not?" Certainly, these words CANNOT exist in the vocabulary of THE Agent Twilight! Perhaps.... no, it can't be... he's finally RELAXED for once? Feeling secure enough to ASSESS THE LAYOUT FOR POSSIBLE ESCAPE ROUTES WITH HIS YOUNG DAUGHTER? No... it can't be possible....

(Sorry, I know I'm unfunny. I don't think that'll change)

But, genuinely, this just shows how at ease he is with his wife and daughter. He might not know it yet, but I know it (← somebody whose opinion isn't worth shit).

Finally, onto the main crisis of the story:

the would-be murderer.

There's something to be said about how he jumped into action to save the guy's life, (as one does), BUT. BUT

OHOHOHO. The minute Yor's in danger (see: the man reached out to grab her but Loid just grabbed his hand) he decides to find the killer to prove her innocence. (You know his adage? A spy should never draw attention to themselves.) The minute his WIFE was in danger he resolves to find the killer and prove Yor's innocence their guilt. HMMMMM. Agent Twilight, you ain't slick. I think you momentarily forgot about about your #1 lesson to never draw attention to yourself just to prove Yor's innocence. OHHHHHH. The fanfiction is fanfiction-ing

(I'M SORRY I'LL TRY TO BE FUNNY FROM NOW ON)

To summarize the rest of the chapter: Anya realises with her telepathy that the killer is the lodge owner, and meddles in the investigation to nudge Loid in the right direction, and the police arrive to the lodge to find the incident resolved. Everyone's happy, right?

Not... really.

Anya's excited because, "Wow, I solved a murder! So cool, best trip ever!"

But Yor and Loid aren't that happy. Loid is worried that this kind of meddling will get Anya in danger... and he's more worried that she isn't really grasping the gravity of the situation.

Which. She kind of isn't. A man was almost killed, but she's not showing any signs of shock? Remember, he was this worried even after the hospital visit where she makes a mess of that sand-model thingie, and after the bus hijacking arc, when she's hyped about the Stella, and he tells her that the Stella was "not for the reckless way you defied those hijackers."

Which.... is a lot of character development from the man who was A-OK with leaving her alone in the apartment, to now how he constantly worries about her wellbeing. Growth.

Also, another tidbit:

I feel like this chapter showcases another facet of his personality. Not Agent Twilight's, or Loid's, but [REDACTED]'s.

[REDACTED] always wanted to help. Even in the War Arc, when, in Luwen where he was staying at his great-uncle's house, we can see that he wants to catch fish for his and his family's dinner, while, in the backdrop, children are laughing and playing. It's always been in his character to help, and, hell, it's partly the reason he is who he is today. Agent Twilight wants to think that he left [REDACTED] behind after that fateful bombing in Luwen, but [REDACTED] is hanging around him like a ghost, and some of his character bleeds through the facade that is Agent Twilight, which is masked by the facade that is Loid Forger.

Final thoughts:

Loved the chapter. It's probably just me reading into it too much, but... that scene where he grabs the guy's hand who was trying to tie up Yor. Hm.

This entire chapter might have been a locked-room murder mystery type chapter, but I genuinely think that it showcases how much of an effect this family has had on Agent Twilight. What with taking Anya on a sweep of the premises to look for escape routes, to trying to prove Yor's innocence that definitely betrayed his number 1 rule as a spy... this man is truly so oblivious, I wanna cry.

(Also: did he not stop for a moment to think that him performing first-aid on the victim, or trying to build a radio from scratch OR playing detective to prove his wife's innocence IN FRONT OF A GROUP OF OSTANIAN PEOPLE would raise suspicions? Obviously, it was all overshadowed by the discovery of the would-be killer, but... at least one person had got to have been suspicious of Loid.)

(Also also: He's so weak. One look at her crying face and he's gone.)

This was just my thoughts from a preliminary read of the chap, so if I get more thoughts, I'll probably add onto it in a reblog or a new post. Tysm for reading! Hope you liked it, and have a great day/night! Remember to stay hydrated!

#spy x family #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers #spy x family chapter 94 #spy x family chapter 94 spoilers #agent twilight #loid forger #thorn princess #yor forger #agent twilight x yor forger #twiyor #loid forger x yor forger #loidyor #anya forger #bond forger

[matan4il]

Buddie 611 meta

I LOVED that the ep showed us how Eddie wasn’t doing compressions on Buck because someone instructed him to. No, he just couldn’t stand by, couldn't let someone else try to bring his partner back to life, so he announced he was taking over, fuck anyone who would try to stop him. No one even tries to, they wordlessly acknowledge Eddie as Buck's mad with worry partner, much like how in 315, the team treated Buck while Eddie was in danger. And then Eddie shocks Buck’s heart back and gets his pulse going again. Eddie literally kept Buck’s heart going, and then he was still so distraught that he yelled at the medical staff (even though as a medic, he knows it’s pointless), “Do more!” 'Coz that’s what Eddie himself was doing, he stepped in and did more than he was asked to, a continuation of us having seen him doing exactly that in 610 as well, when he didn’t wait for Bobby to decide what to do to help Buck, Eddie charged up an electrocuted ladder he was just thrown off of. Because when it comes to Buck, he will always do more. ~~

The significance of the bond between them is also shown when Eddie is the first flashback Buck experiences within the coma dream, the first lifeline to the real world. That’s continued when the second flashback is to the tsunami, where Buck saved Chris. However, Eddie and Chris aren't quite present in these flashbacks. Buck’s subconscious is at war with itself. The Diaz boys are this powerful connection to the real world (much like Buck and Chris were Eddie’s back in 315, as I tried to demonstrate in this gifset), but the coma dream shows the power of childhood trauma and how much we can be trapped by the desire to fix it. The whole dream contrasts Buck having parents who are loving, who want and appreciate him, with everything bad that would happen if he weren’t with the 118. As the dream goes on, the price keeps getting higher, yet Buck still struggles until the very end with letting go of the illusion that his parents love him, and the sense he himself can be fixed if they do, like he’d then finally feel good enough. That’s why, in a sense, Eddie and Chris have to be more absent than present for the coma dream to be seductive. Because if they’re fully present, if he truly engages with their coma versions and remembers the family unit he has outside the dream, the balance would be tipped over, the battle would have been decided before Buck had a chance to learn his lesson.

That’s why he only hears what happened to Eddie, he doesn’t witness it firsthand, and why when the dream's seductive nature is failing, suddenly Chris is there (despite his coma version not being in LA) to tempt Buck into staying. Even then, walking away from the dream version of Chris while telling him that he’s not real is the only thing Buck says he'll always feel guilty about. ~~ 

I just gotta include a small note here on how much I love the progression we’ve had from Bobby saying in 101 that while Buck calls him “pops,” they’re not a family, through Buck telling TK aloud that Bobby’s basically his dad (in the crossover) to Bobby finally admitting this is true for him as well. I’ve pointed out this season repeatedly (like in my 610 meta) that the show’s dealing with questions of fatherhood, including the question of biology in that context, and this ep was no different, yet this truly was one of the highlights for me when it comes to this theme. I love how much Buck and Bobby mean to each other. ~~ 

Buck’s mom saying “your kids” and Buck being confused until she clarifies it’s not his actual children, it’s his students, then his disappointment, that’s one loose end that the ep didn’t wrap up, because that is a continuation of the whole sperm donor situation (with Margaret once more being at the center of confusion on whether Buck is a dad or not). This one is only going to be really addressed once Buck fully deals with his role in Connor and Kameron’s baby’s life, something he can’t properly do until he also faces his role in Christopher’s, a role that this ep really emphasized. No other kids were by Buck’s bed, not even May who has free access as a legal adult and who has now admitted she knows Buck is her step dad’s other kid. Chris needs his Buck in a way that no other firefam kid does. ~~ 

Which brings me to the heart wrenching fate we (and Buck) learn the Diaz boys have suffered in his absence. I have mentioned countless times in my meta posts how important I believe 204 was to Buddie. How critical Buck’s decision to step into Eddie’s mess with him was. Not once, but twice in that ep, first when he helps Eddie by talking to Bobby about Chris spending the day at the station with the 118, then when Buck introduces Eddie to Carla. I have always said Eddie was very attracted (and not just physically) to Buck from the start, but Eddie’s Christopher’s dad first, so he never would have been able to fall for anyone who doesn’t also love his son as much as he does. In other words, I’ve always thought the heart eyes Eddie gives Buck at the end of the Carla introduction scene, that was the moment when he was gone. And now we learn how meaningful Buck himself knows that was. Without that happening, his subconscious just knows Eddie’s parents would have succeeded with their threat of getting Chris away from his dad, leading to Eddie completely falling apart. Buddie's tale is a love story, and this coma revelation is basically the show telling us Buck’s subconscious already knows this. ~~ 

Eddie’s reactions in the real world are also a reflection of how important Buddifer’s little family unit is to all three of them. Keep in mind, even with his therapy, Eddie is still a reserved guy, right? He normally remains calm in the face of adversity, it takes a lot to rattle him, he doesn't easily get to the point where he falls apart emotionally. When he does in this ep, he only allows himself to when his son is looking away. And even then, he just can't go on answering Christopher's questions about Buck's state. So it highlights how important Buck is to Eddie, when the latter DOES fall apart. When he jumps in to take care of Buck on the gurney as it’s wheeled into the hospital. When he shouts at the medical staff. When he looks so wrecked at the hospital, close to what previously it took weeks of insomnia to do to him. When he can’t look at Buck's comatose body or stop himself from crying while he listens to Chris speaking or bring himself to be strong for his son and answer him. And of course, when the reserved Eddie goes against hospital regulations and parental common sense (to keep your kid away from disturbing sights), sneaking his son in to see Buck. But Eddie does it because he gets it. When Chris says he needs to talk to Buck, Eddie knows the full weight of this, because it’s his truth, too. Both Diaz boys need their Buck to wake up. So everything Chris is saying, all the comfort he’s offering, along with the insistence that Buck MUST return to them? He’s speaking for Eddie as well. ~~ 

I also liked that Buck realized during his coma dream two truths that seem, but are not, mutually exclusive: that he does have a family worth going back for, but that ultimately, he’s returning for himself. He’s not trying to please anyone else, he’s not trying to get anyone else’s approval. His adoptive family matters to him, even his bio parents who have failed him repeatedly matter, but at the end of the day, he’s not going back because his loved ones do or don’t need him, do or don’t accept him, do or don’t approve of him. He’s going back because he loves them and he wants to be with them. And that ties in with another thing we see in this ep. 

Bobby describes the coma dream as a world where Buck can fix everything. Buck says not all, seemingly implying he couldn’t bring Bobby back from the dead. But that’s not actually true, is it? 'Coz the coma world is Buck’s subconscious, it can be altered in whatever way he wants. Bobby can be there and talk to him despite being “dead” which means... he’s not really dead, not in the way that makes death so tragic, depriving us of our loved ones. Chris can be at the hospital, despite not being in LA and not knowing Buck. It’s a coma dream, there are no rules! Buck’s subconscious is king! And we know how important it is for Buck to fix things, Eddie pointed it out in 504, and we saw a callback to this just last week. The climax of this ep is even set against the musical backdrop of Coldplay’s Fix You. But this trait stems from Buck feeling like he needs to fix things, to be the hero, in order to be worthy of love. In the coma, Buck realizes he IS loved. And therefore, he doesn’t need to fix EVERYTHING in order to make a difference and be deserving of love. He IS enough, exactly as he is, limited fixing possibilities and all. That’s how he gets to choose both his loved ones and himself in coming back to reality. ~~ 

Oh, can we talk about the heart drawings scene from 514 and how it relates to this ep? I recently answered an ask about it, and pointed out I think Eddie’s heart has been Chris for years now, and for a long time, it was only him. But that scene showed how, thanks to the way Buck has been there for both of them along the years, helping, healing and loving them, Eddie’s heart is no longer exclusively his son. It’s Buck, too. Which explains why the heart theme we’ve been seeing with Eddie since 413 has expanded to include Buck’s in this ep, with Eddie literally restarting it. So 611 really affirms who Eddie’s heart now belongs to. We see how, without Buck, he would have lost Chris as well. Without Buck, he would have lost his whole heart. ~~ 

And that brings us of course to what kind of a person Eddie would be once that happened. We learn he would have become this angry man, drawing on his reaction during the lawsuit story arc. But notice that in both cases, a part of the issue causing Eddie's anger is not having Buck. Yes, back in s3 Eddie was dealing with Shannon’s death, but he doesn’t really start losing it until he also can no longer speak to Buck. Similarly, in the coma dream, he becomes Angry Guy due to the loss of Chris, but that is tied in with the absence of Buck in his life. In other words, losing Buck causes Eddie SUCH grief, that it has no other way out except for rage. ~~ 

Did you notice how once again, Buck got to be Madney’s truth teller? He did that first in 208, when he realized Madney are basically dating. Interestingly, everything he told Maddie about them was also true for him and Eddie. Then in this ep, he tells Chim Madney basically should be married, since they already share every other part of domestic and committed life. Obviously this will come into play soon. So just remember that once again, his words can be easily applied to Buddifer as well, plus Buck’s truth teller status was paralleled back in s2 with Maddie in 204, when she asked her brother about his newfound boy crush on Eddie... ~~ 

Okay, last one, but I just had to share with you maybe my fave parallel from this ep. You might have noticed in my 610 meta how much I think the lightning stroke parallels the shooting arc. Well, this was true with one of the sweetest moments in the ep’s conclusion. Just like how, at the end of 414, we got to witness Eddie hugging Chris while Buck watched on, so we get to see Buck hugging their son while Eddie looks on now. Except Eddie isn’t just looking. He enables the hug by helping Chris into Buck’s arms. Tell me again: how is this not a family? How are these men not partners, dedicated and loving towards each other in every way that matters...? ~~ 

Please enjoy direct links to my weekly meta posts, my Buddie gifs and more of my content in my pinned post. Endlessly thankful to @whosoldherout​, who​ blows my mind away every week with her hard work and beautiful gifs for my meta. Tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here. Thank you in advance for any reblog and like! I’m operating on far too little sleep in order to get this posted quickly, so I can't explain how much any and all encouragement matters to me. Thank you! xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #wm #buddie gifs #buddie gif #911 gifs #911 spoilers #911 gif #911edit #buddieedit #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

[mysillyside]

Ik they were trying to imply that Simon was being childish and needed the lesson spoonfeed to him by Betty literally transporting him into a child's body- but this could have been achieved so much better. Like I get the idea? It's a fine idea on its own. But why... Shermy and Beth?? Gonna be real it feels more like the writers wanted to include them somehow to hint at another spinoff then them being an actual narrative choice to have Simon learn from.

How to have Simon confront his flaws, and the flaws of his and Betty's relationship?

Transport him into a reality where he does put on the crown and become Ice King again. And have him talk to that version of himself. Let Simon and Ice King finally interact. (continue reading below:)

Make him see what a painful effect this has on his loved ones. How Marceline feels, how Finn feels, how literally most of OOO's citizens (especially the princesses) feel. And most of all, show him how this version of him is dealing with it. "Being Ice King was easier because I didn't realize how screwed up my life was" Simon said this at the very start of the show, so having him confront the fact that Ice King is literally the embodiment of his depression and misery would have been so powerful. Ice King is sad by nature but doesn't even understand why- making it impossible for him to find real happiness.

Ice King is also a reflection of all of Simon's negative traits, amped-up to 11. It's pretty clear throughout the show that not only did Simon hate being Ice King, but he also just like. Hates Ice King himself. He finds him embarrassing and best, vile at worst.

So what better way to show Simon how childish his quest to become Ice King again is than to like... just have him interact with Ice King. A personification of all he hates about himself, a caricature of his personality, motives and feelings.

My ideal version of "Simon realizes the flaws within himself and his relationship with Betty" would be Simon talking to Ice King.

You know how people say you learn the most from people who remind you of yourself and your own flaws? Have that happen.

And have Simon come to terms with the fact that Ice King is not this completely separate entity. He's a wounded, sad, lost version of himself. And idk. Having Simon accept that? Accept Ice King as someone who is and always has been linked to him.

And through seeing himself (Ice King) at his lowest point, the lesson can finally hit him in the face. No need to spell it out, explain it to the audience like we are being spoon-fed. Through this he realizes his own character flaws, and the fatal flaws in his and Betty's relationship, the sacrifices she made to help him reach peace.

We can still somehow tie the whole Casper and Nova characters into this. Maybe Ice King is crying (as he does), probably because he's so lonely, because he craves love and companionship so much, specifically seeking out romance, when all his attempts fail miserably.

And have Simon attempt to comfort him by telling him a story. Basically reminisce about his relationship with Betty and the choices they made, through random characters he makes up on the spot (which would be Casper and Nova).

The story starts out with Simon retelling his and Betty's love story through rose tinted glasses, but Ice King keeps asking questions. Like obliviously of course, without realizing, he pokes holes in the seemingly perfect love story. I feel like Ice King is usually like this?? He can't figure out what's wrong with him personally, but he is pretty good at determining other people's issues, but in a silly kinda oblivious way.

As this continues, at some point the story stops being about trying to comfort Ice King and devolves into Simon grieving over what he lost, the choices he made and how they hurt Betty. Basically doing what the actual episode 9 did, point out the flaws of the relationship. As Simon realizes how much Betty did for him and how willing he was to throw it all away. He ends the story on a sad note. There is no happy ending. He starts to cry finally god damn.

And then Ice King, in his Ice King way- attempts to comfort him. Basically telling him to calm down and that it's just a story. Simon bitterly looks away and Ice King just tells him. "But hey aren't you writing it? You can always change the ending if you don't like it! It doesn't have to end there! Keep going! You'll get better if you keep writing."

"But what if I can't change it? What if the book is already published?"

"There's never too late for a sequel! The great thing about writing is that it only ends when you want it to end!"

And with that just like. Make them hug. A symbolic gesture in which Simon accepts it all. That this is the story he wrote with his choices, he cannot take it back- but that he can keep moving forward. The story doesn't end until the author decides (holy shit it ties it back to the fact Fionna and Cake started out as a fanfiction! Author metaphors!!!).

By accepting Ice King as a part of himself, his ability to accept himself as a part of OOO makes more sense. He's a part of this world and he will keep going.

Anyhow then he has his big scene with Betty.

This is very rough I like- vomited it out just now because I needed closure (<- has not enjoyed the FaC finale even though she fundamentally agrees with the story/character conclusions and themes) so I wrote out this fanfic-esq post.

Idk I just thought the fact this whole show is about jumping through multiverses and not having there be a scene where Simon talks to Ice King and has a moment of self reflection/acceptance was a missed opportunity.

Anyhow ty for reading my silly fanfic post. Mby I'll make it into a real fanfiction idk.

Again this is very rough, and there's like a billion ways Simon's character arc could have concluded that would have left me more emotionally satisfied- but I might write about those some other time.

Hope you enjoyed the idea dump!

#adventure time #ice king #simon petrikov #✒️ katwrites #analyses & meta #💬 katposts

[teyums]

Hiya! Could u please write a fic for aonung about how he would react to oblivious female reader being too close to a guy? She probably wouldn't have noticed it because she's showing him how to weave baskets or something and aonung is just standing from afar like 😡. Can u end it with some fluff and the rest is upto u. Love ur writing btw have a good day/night

“I’m coming with you.” - Ao’nung x fem metkayina reader

a/n: Of course I can! Your wish is my command, anon. 🤭 thank you for your kind words, I hope this meets your expectations! 🤍

contains: fluff, slightly spicy towards the end, aged up ao’nung x reader

“Ao’nung, I have to go!” This man was impossible, every time you pulled his hands away they reattached right back to your waist like putty. “I’m serious! I cannot be late for their first day.” You said, finally tearing away from his grasp.

“Oh come on, you don’t have to.” He sighed, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I’m sure they can teach themselves just fine, what do they need my girlfriend for?”

“Yes, I do.” You stood on your toes to quickly peck his cheek, gathering your materials as he watched you with an unsatisfied look on his face. “I promised your mother I would help teach the newcomers how to weave their hammocks, I won’t be long.” You loved helping people learn and your goal for the future was to be a teacher to the children of the clan- so you immediately agreed when your Tsahik asked you to take on the responsibility of helping the Sully kids learn some basic skills.

The three oldest sully siblings were hilarious and honestly a breath of fresh air to be around. You knew everyone in your clan very well, so finally getting to see some new faces was more than exciting.

You sat around in a circle, thoroughly explaining the basics of weaving and demonstrating in front of them while they eyed your hands closely. Kiri caught on almost instantly, explaining that she had previously watched Neytiri do it so many times that it came back to her rather quickly. The younger boy, however, was the exact opposite.

Lo’ak huffed frustratedly and threw his knotted ball of hemp down onto the sand, successfully catching your attention. The task seemed to prove difficult for him, his elbow resting on his knee and his chin now in the palm of his hand while he sulked. “Why do we need to learn this again?”

You grinned at his childlike display of anger and tried not to laugh, sitting down next to him and picking up his failed attempt. “It is a good skill to have. Don’t you want to be able to do these things on your own one day?”

“Relax, baby bro. Not everyone is going to get it on their first try.” Neteyam chimed in, proudly holding up his hammock that was already a third of the way finished. For his first attempt, it was nearly perfect. You couldn’t believe how easily Neteyam excelled in any task given to him.

You smile grew wider, excitedly clapping your hands together in approval. “Wow, good job! You are a fast learner.” He blushed at your praise and nervously scratched his head, refocusing his attention on his weaving.

It seemed your praise of his older brother only aggravated Lo’ak more. He suddenly rose to his feet and brushed the sand off the back of his legs, preparing to leave. “This is stupid, I’m outta here.” He grumbled.

You tore your attention from the eldest son and looked up, grabbing hold of Lo’ak’s wrist before he could take a step forward. “Lo’ak, be patient. Everyone learns at their own pace. Sit down, I will help you.” You offered, showing him grace as you knew adjusting to their new home was frustrating him more than the actual lesson.

His shoulders relaxed slightly at your touch. He looked back and forth between you and your hand, nodding and sitting back down next to you in the sand after a brief moment of contemplation.

After unraveling the hemp, you placed it in his lap and took his hands into yours. “I’ll show you how to do it, okay? Loosen your hands.” You instructed, waiting until he followed your directions to continue. “So you go over and through, then under-” you started, helping Lo’ak move his hands the correct way and celebrating when he picked up on the rest and began to remember your lesson. “See! You’ve got it.”

The appearance of these unfamiliar looking na’vi were very different. Their skin was much darker than the metkayina people- hence why you did not notice his cheeks starting to blush. “You’re just a good teacher.” He smiled.

Kiri stifled a laugh and shared a look with Neteyam, the both of them knowing that Lo’ak knew what to do all along, he just wanted you to pay more attention to him than the others.

Ao’nung stood smugly outside your shared Mauri, his muscular arms folded over his chest in distaste as he watched the sight in front of him from a distance. He leaned against the hut, his eyes narrowing as your slender hands made their way onto Lo’ak’s. Why the hell were you touching him and why was he enjoying it? He saw the way that boy looked at you, how both of them looked at you. How could you be so oblivious to the fact that they liked you? His lips turned up into a scowl just thinking about it. You were his only and he wanted you all to himself.

~~ later that evening ~~

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Same time, don’t forget!” You waved goodbye to the three of them, wrapping up your lesson for the day and making your way back to your home. A dim, warm light peeked out through the doorway of your Mauri and you smiled at the thought of Ao’nung waiting up for you. You pushed through the curtains and tilted your head in curiosity when you saw your mate laying flat on his back in your hammock, staring straight up at the ceiling with his hands folded over his stomach.

It was probably nothing, you knew how he would get when he was in his moods sometimes so you brushed it off and made your way over to him. “I’m back, my love,” you leaned forward, expecting a kiss and not the immediate shrug off you received. “Ao’nung? What is wrong?” Your eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“I don’t know. Maybe your new boyfriends will be able to tell you.” He spat, crossing his arms and avoiding your gaze.

He could not be serious right now. The man who was always overly confident and extremely cocky, was seriously jealous?

“You’re being a child.” You sighed and shook your head, you hated when he got like this. How many times did you have to tell him he was the only one who held room in your heart?

He scoffed and sat up as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Me? I’m being a child?” He asked, shaking his head with a laugh of disbelief once he realized you were serious. “Did you not see the way they looked at you?” His voice raised slightly, but you paid it no mind, knowing it wasn’t at you but out of frustration like usual.

You brought your hands up and massaged your temples in attempt to soothe your oncoming headache, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes. “No, Ao’nung. I didn’t notice how they looked at me, because I do not care. You know I only want you, you are all I’ve ever wanted. Nobody will change that.” You reassured, the look in his eyes gradually softening.

“You promise?” His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, his hands smoothing up your legs and resting on your waist.

“I swear it.” Your smile grew watching his anger melt away at your words.

“Good.”

You squealed when he yanked you into his lap, giggling and sliding your arms over his shoulders. “You were actually jealous?” You smirked, threading your fingers through his loose hair and looking down at him while he hid his face in your shoulder. He gently pressed his lips against your skin, the pads of his thumbs caressing the dips in your hips as he tried to ignore you. “Ao’nung~” You teased in a sing-song voice.

“Shut up.” He grumbled, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You laughed at his embarrassment, cupping his face with your hands to lift it up so your eyes would meet. His gaze traveled from your blue eyes to your supple lips, licking his own at the mere sight of you. He leaned in and you quickly pulled your head back, using your hands to shove him down onto the hammock that held the two of you. You hovered over him, your voice suddenly serious as he stared at you in shock. “I promise you, if you ever,” you jabbed a finger into his chest as you continued, “dodge one of my kisses like that again, I will dump you faster than I can swim. Eywa as my witness.” You warned, his eyes widening at the threat. After all, you were the best female swimmer of your clan. “And wipe that stupid look off your face.”

“Yes ma’am.” He purred, reaching up to grab you by the back of your neck and pull you down against his chest. He crashed his lips into yours, successfully getting a whimper out of you when he playfully tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth.

He released it, tightly gripping a handful of your hair and making you gasp as he whispered in your ear. “And tomorrow, I’m coming with you.”

#avatar 2 #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #avatar way of water #ao’nung x you #ao’nung x y/n #aonung #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung fanfic #ao’nung smut #aonung x female reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #metkayina #avatar twow #atwow

[burst-of-iridescent]

Aang was indeed a bad father. It's way past time we stopped making excuses for him.

An all too common defense for Aang is the fact that he's a monk and is not well-versed in how parenting looks. Yeah! No shit! But do you know who is well-versed? Katara! They talk as if Aang is a single parent like Toph but he is not. Katara's been on Aang's side since the day they met, always stood up for him, always complimented him.

Is this really the thanks she gets? Are they really that disinterested in explaining Katara's side of the story? As if her not getting a statue wasn't insulting enough.

Another major flaw in this defense is that Aang is not just a monk. He's the avatar. This means, part of mastering all elements also means embodying all of the ideologies based on said elements. That includes elements/ideologies completely opposite of his own. His daughter's crack about Aang "cutting and running when things get tough" shows that he's learned absolutely nothing.

We never truly see him master all the elements, he just gets them and, more or less, calls it a day. I'm even beginning to doubt that he's truly mastered his default airbending and he just got his tattoos prematurely because the monks were impressed with his scooter invention.

Zuko got the privilege of understanding the ideologies of other nations, allowing him to grow, and unlearn any toxic masculinity lessons through them, and would blow a gasket if he ever saw a kid get mistreated by a parent in any way. Is it really any wonder why Zuko is the more popular character and the most requested choice for Katara, in comparison to Aang?

using the "but he was a monk!" argument to excuse aang's bad parenting is fucking baffling to me. even leaving aside that aang did have a father figure (or are we collectively ignoring monk gyatso?), i don't think you need to witness fatherhood in action to understand that showing preferential treatment to one of your children is a messed up thing to do. that seems like the kind of thing that should be common sense, especially when you're best friends with the guy who's walking proof of what happens when you play favourites with your kids.

truthfully, i also don't fully agree with katara being able to compensate for aang's supposed lack of knowledge. while i do believe katara was a good mother, and i don't think it was her responsibility to teach her own husband how to be a good parent, i have my doubts about how much, if ever, katara called aang out on his behaviour towards bumi and kya. if their relationship in atla was any indication, i suspect katara very much turned a blind eye (or at most tried to gently suggest that aang pay more attention to bumi and kya) to aang's flaws in this area, as she (unfortunately) does in most others. that's one of the reasons i was never able to get onboard with kat.aang, because katara is the only one of the gaang who is never able to meaningfully challenge aang, even when he desperately needs it. (the only time i recall her trying to push him to do something he doesn't want is in sozin's comet when the fate of the literal world depended upon it. not a good omen, methinks.)

the katara we knew in atla might not have idly sat by while aang favored his airbending child over the others, but the seeds for who she turns out to be in lok are already planted. it's not a stretch to see how katara's blind faith in aang, and her unwillingness to confront his flaws, could have easily led her down the path to the woman who would fail to stop her husband from neglecting two of their children.

it's no surprise that aang in lok is repeating all the same mistakes he did in atla, because his character arc came to a screeching halt at the start of book 3 and was never picked back up again. how are we meant to believe that aang ever became the avatar (yknow, the embodiment of all four nations in one) when he was still, at the very end of the show, prioritizing the values of one nation over the others?

truly the shocker of the century that people might prefer katara to be with a character who had a believable arc with well-written development and a satisfying conclusion, instead of the narrative equivalent of a brick wall.

#anti kataang #zutara #aang critical

[the-badger-mole]

But FWIENDSHIP!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay, so you all know how I get when something gets stuck in my head, but yesterday I saw a post talking about how Katara and Zuko's potential romance messes with their friendship, and I don't understand how, but that's beside the point. This is an anti-Kataang post.

I will once again admit that I don't spend a ton of time in Kataang/anti-Zutara spaces (cause I'm respectful like that), but every so often, I see one of those takes pop up in my safe area (because respect isn't always a two way street, unfortunately). It's interesting to see how many times this take seems to crop up. Katara and Zuko falling in love would ruin their friendship, yet those same people fail to acknowledge that Bryke went ahead and ruined their friendship anyway out of jealousy. These same people also tend to hold Kataang as a prime example of Friends to Lovers, the only problem is, Aang isn't Katara's friend at any point.

Throughout the series, it's made very clear that Aang likes Katara, but for most of the series (until literally the last few seconds, in fact) it's also clear that Katara only sees him as a friend. This should have been an object lesson that sometimes crushes don't work out, but friendship can be stronger than temporarily disappointed feelings. However, that's not what we get. Aang doesn't care about Katara's friendship. He doesn't want Katara in his life unless it's in a romantic capacity. We see it in how he reacts when he feels romantically rejected (lava fissure, EIP). The narrative doesn't give Katara any space to say no to Aang without it permanently damaging their relationship, because they never had the relationship Katara thought they did. Katara thought she was Aang's friend, but for Aang, their 'friendship' was just a precursor to romance. In this, the year 2023, I know we all understand why this is a problem.

Aang can't even conceive of a world where Katara does turn him down. He dreams about her enthusiastic response to his declaration of love; he assumes that since they kissed he kissed her and staked his claim, they should be together, despite there never being any sort of conversation, and the fact that the one time he did try to talk about it, she changed the subject very quickly. Katara's feelings are an afterthought for Aang, which is terrible for any relationship, but particularly in a romantic one. There is never a moment where Aang puts Katara's emotional needs ahead of his own. He never puts a value on her platonic friendship. There's never a moment where he decides that despite his feelings for her, having Katara in his life as a friend is better than not having her at all. That moment should have happened regardless of whether they ended up together or not, because friendship is the most important component of the Friends to Lovers trope.

By comparison, the friendship Katara eventually forms with Zuko is much deeper, and based on a mutual respect, understanding and emotional support for each other. This is a fantastic foundation for a romance, although bafflingly, people who laud Katara and Zuko's deep friendship don't seem to agree. Them potentially falling in love doesn't cheapen their friendship because they actually were friends first. On top of that, their Enemies to Friends journey ending romantically would not only not cheapen their friendship, it would tie into the themes of the show beautifully (the illusion of separation; love being stronger than hate; learning to respect other people's differences etc).

Let's be real, what Kataang actually represents is The Hero Gets the Girl, and I think deep down we all know that, even the ones calling it Friends to Lovers. In the Hero Gets the Girl trope, the Girl in question doesn't really matter. She's less of a romantic partner and more a prize for the Hero saving the day. Her emotional journey to falling for the Hero mostly plays out off screen, even though she may not have even liked the Hero like that initially, and the hero doesn't ever show that he respects her as a person. For the most part it works (arguably) because the Girl isn't a character in her own right, she's just part of the Hero's story. The reason it doesn't work with Kataang is that Katara is a character. She does have her own journey, and as passionate and outspoken as she is in pretty much every other aspect of her life, it doesn't make sense for her journey to falling for Aang takes place largely off screen. Not unless you understand how little Katara's feelings matter to their relationship. Had Katara actually rejected Aang, their friendship would have ended because Aang was never interested in her friendship.

It's interesting to me to see people who claim to value friendship over romance spend more time complaining about a romance that isn't canon over the actual canon ship that really does cheapen the friendship. But then again, I guess that was never the problem in the first place.

#atla #anti aang #anti kataang #zutara #enemies-FRIENDS-lovers #that would have been worlds better than the Hero Gets the Girl ship masquerading as a friends-lovers romance #if you prefer platonic zutara that's fine #but let's not pretend that the problem is that their potential romance would spoil their friendship #not when you don't speak about how the actual canon ship completely devalued katara's friendship towards aang #be so for real #just say you don't like zutara and keep it pushing #because now the argument just looks hypocritical when you have nothing to say about kataang #the actual canon ship devaluing both friendship and consent #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

[jasaginae0]

I just got done playing Dead Plate, here are my thoughts and analysis:

It's so interesting how Rody and Vincent perfectly parallel each other, though Vincent's way of mirroring Rody is shown with metaphors and symbolism.

Rody tries again and again to try to win back Manon, he loves her to death more than anything. He job hops in order to get money to impress her, he waits by the phone hoping she'll answer his calls he even has to hear from VINCENT that Manon has ended their relationship when his love for Manon blinded him of their breakup.

But Vincent's parallel to Rody is shown metaphorically, look at his cooking:

He scribbles out reviews from critics that are less than perfect, when Rody reveals he has been letting Vincent's meals for him collect dust in his fridge he looks as if Rody just spit in his face and he is constantly changing the menu.

Vincent said he lost his taste as a child. The dude literally considers his favorite food to be a lemon. A god damn lemon. He has been shown to become VERY upset over mistakes, big or small in his kitchen (Unless it's Rody).

I'm convinced cooking is a metaphor for trying to impress people and feel accomplished but failing every time. I think Vincent comes from a not very good household, and it's manifesting in his adulthood. Vincent has a passion for cooking and food, I believe this had been the case ever since childhood, but when he saw his families apathy towards it, he grew desperate to impress them. To show them that he could do something GREAT with his talent, he works and works to improve, finding any dish that would wow people, yet nothing.

He starts cooking to impress people, he no longer does it for himself, it's too feel accomplished. This goes on until cooking isn't even considered a hobby of Vincent's, he's doing it for others rather than himself. It gets to point he barely enjoys cooking and food in general, so losing his taste is symbolism for Vincent losing out to his hobby to impress others.

He says after losing his taste, he is desperate for a dish. Everything tasted the damn same. It drove him crazy. He wanted something different if we connected that with Vincent trying to impress Rody with his dish, we can also connect that to the theory that Vincent was in love with Rody. If he did like him, I don't think Vincent saw him as an actual potential lover, he saw Rody as another chance to impress the people he couldn't, could Rody remind him of someone that Vincent was desperate to impress? And seeing Rody, he saw a second chance to be a big shot, to prove others wrong and to finally be accomplished?

Vincent literally agrees to date Manon despite being a gay man, just to cook her and feed her to Rody in hopes that he'll love it. Vincent knew Rody LOVES Manon, as long as she's involved he will love whatever it is, so Vincent sees Manon as his key to his goal and kills her. But that doesn't work, and he dies.

They both mirror each other in such interesting ways, I love it.

Rody probably learned his lesson and eventually moved on from Manon, but Vincent didn't see what was the problem, that there was no unique dish that he needed he just needed to rediscover his passion and stop using food to seek validation, yet he died chasing a goal that would never happen.

In conclusion, Dead Plate's theme is trying to impress people and seek validation that we lose ourselves and don't even think about what we want. At times, it may even end us.

#dead plate #dead plate rody #dead plate vincent #character analysis #vincent charbonneau #rody lamoree

[hotheadedhero]

In Unrequited Love

Love and relationships can't be forced but sometimes they can be built on common ground and an understanding of one another's tribulations.

Part 2 here

Donatello x Reader

Having a crush on someone sucks. Having a crush on someone who has eyes for someone else sucks even more. This is the sad truth of your current circumstances. You knew that high school would come with its challenges but you weren’t prepared for the fact that you’d fall for the careless, hockey-loving maniac from your math class. It began with a casual friendship before feelings deepened on your end. Feelings that wouldn’t seem so terrible were it not for April O’Neil. You have absolutely nothing against the girl but it’s clear as day that she unfortunately has Casey’s heart in her stronghold. It’s not like you could even vent these frustrations, given that the only friends you have happen to be those two people. 

Then, through some shenanigans that seem like the norm for you now, you meet four turtle brothers - one of whom is in the same boat as you. Not to mention, between the very two friends in question. Were it not heartbreaking to witness each other trying your hardest to grab the attention of your crushes, you’d find some humour in this.

You tried hanging out with Raphael more in an attempt to get in close quarters with Casey, seeing as they’re practically tied at the hip, only for you to realise that the rough-and-tumble environment isn’t your strong suit. That’s when they both suggested you try your hand at assisting Donatello in his laboratory given your aptitude for the sciences. What they failed to realise is that you do well in class but that doesn’t inherently mean you enjoy it. Theoretical sciences and learning about how things work are interesting but there aren’t enough practical applications that allow you to engage in the school environment. The closest you’ve gotten to having fun was when you made “elephant toothpaste” for a chemistry lesson but that’s about it. 

Nonetheless, you see no harm in passing by the lab and giving the brainiac brothers a visit. Other than your not-so-subtle pining towards the other humans in the group, nothing has been outwardly mentioned about the situation you are both in. Neither of you has hung out enough to have that conversation. It wouldn’t be weird to talk about it, would it? A query that shall not yet receive an answer seeing as you’ve already knocked on the large, metal door. You walk through the open garage to see a couple of legs poking out from under the battle shell. 

“Huh? Oh! (Y/n), sorry- Ow!” He slides out from beneath the vehicle and rubs the fresh bruise forming on his head. “Sorry, I’m a little busy, right now. I think Leo is watching Space Heroes if you’re looking for someone to hang out with, though.”

“Actually, I came by to see if you needed any help,” you offer, holding your hands behind your back respectfully whilst also trying not to laugh. 

His eyes widen, having not expected such a proposal, and he’s quick to scramble to his feet.  “Oh, okay! Let’s see- uh… how are you with engine repairs?”

“Depends.” Your tongue clicks contemplatively. “Is it gas, electric, or hybrid?”

“That already tells me you know more than enough,” he chuckles. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He opens the hood of the van to reveal the ensemble of burnt-out parts and overworked mechanisms. The guys’ last mission must have been intense because this engine is almost in complete disarray. Were it not for the fact that your Uncle is a mechanic, you’d be sweating under the pressure of somehow ruining this heap of metal more than it already is. A probability still if you want to jinx your person but that’s getting ahead of yourself. 

Donatello gestures towards a box of spare parts and holds the back of his neck. “These just need to be taken out and replaced. It’s probably the easiest of what needs doing but I also need to finish rewiring the brakes, check the throttle calibration, replenish the weapons ammunition-”

“You need an extra set of hands to get it done quicker,” you cut him off with a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

He bares a gap-toothed smile in response and nods before resuming his initial position beneath the vehicle to finish the brake wiring. This leaves you to begin on your assigned job. For starters, you’re glad that this is a case of piecemeal repair rather than a complete engine rebuild. You’d be out of your depth were that the case. You start by pulling the entire engine out via a hoist, assisted by a load levelling bar so that it doesn’t tilt at a funny angle. Then, you secure it onto a stand and glance over what you’re working with. The crankshaft, piston ring compressor, oil filter, and fan need the most attention, so you start with those first. Just to save the disturbance, you look into a few tutorials on your phone to make sure you’re doing it correctly. 

During this entire time, the two of you work on separate parts of the battle shell in silence, seemingly content with your tasks. By now, Donnie has moved on to tightening the wheels’ lug holes. Admittedly, you had been concerned about a lack of things to talk about but this is a nice settlement. It’s certainly the most relaxed you’ve felt in a while; something to keep you distracted from the quelling of your hopeless romantic attraction. Plus, you have this sense of relief from finally being able to work on something with your hands rather than straining your brain over textbooks and pop quizzes.

"Question,” he starts abruptly, keeping his eyes on the centre cap of the wheel. “What’s it you like so much about that cave mouth?"

First, you blink quickly to yourself, having not expected to get into the nitty gritty of it so soon. So much for being distracted but you can’t be mad. Curiosity isn’t something to be berated. Then, you find yourself snickering at the mildly degrading nickname. The question may appear brash but he’s puzzled by why April seems to like Casey so much. Hearing it from you might give him the insight he needs to turn the odds in his favour. He’ll take anything at this point. 

"I dunno. There's just this air to him that I like. He's an ass, I am well aware of that, but he's fun, you know?” you admit awkwardly. “Psh! Don't ask me to explain it. You can't really put that stuff into words." You squint down at him, lips poised mockingly. "What is it you like about April so much?"

He halts his own task and glances down at his hands, cheeks reddening as he thinks about the girl of his dreams. "She just... had my heart from the first moment I saw her."

"Wow. The first girl you ever see in your life and it's just like that.” Yes, that bit of information is known thanks to our dear Raphael. “'Pretty shallow to fall in love with someone based on looks if you ask me." 

"You would know,” he scoffs sarcastically.

"Now you're calling Casey ugly?” you ask, both playful and moderately offended on your crush’s behalf. “Man, you really don't like him."

"I’m sure the same goes for you with April!"

"Hey! I don't stoop so low into my dissatisfaction of the circumstances to insult her." A wry grin then beckons your lips. "Although~"

"Whatever you think you're going to say, don't."

The staring match doesn't last long, breaking beneath a shared laugh; fond and unwilted by the ache in your hearts, which has been forgotten for a split moment to enjoy each other's company.

From that point on, that’s precisely what you did. More often than not, you found yourself in the confines of his garage, assisting him with the occasional doohickey and thingymabob. Even if there wasn’t much you could help with, you wound up being a decent lab partner in any case. In turn, he would offer to help you with your homework if you had any particularly difficult assignments. Your grades have never looked so good. When neither of you were doing that, you’d simply hang out and rant about little annoyances with your unreciprocated infatuations. 

“I mean, I try some jokes here and there but nothing seems to land,” he concedes begrudgingly, throwing his body weight into the back of his chair.

“Can I hear one?” you inquire as you gently swing around in your own seat. 

His lips press together and he mulls it over before sighing, “Okay, so, you remember how I told you about Metal Head?” You nod, to which he continues, “Well, the first time I took him out for a spin, we were on watch duty together. That’s when I asked her if she likes metal.”

He groans to himself as he replays the memory in his head, only now realising how corny that must have sounded at the time. However, you laugh and not the heckling kind either. Your head tilts back into your chair, knees lifting to compensate for the tension in your shaking stomach. How could April have not loved something as precious as that? The girl must be crazy because that would have worked on you in a heartbeat. 

“You should’ve asked if her favourite dance move is the robot,” you say in between laughs. “No, wait, wait! I got a better one! Ask her out to the circuits for a date!”

Donatello can only smile at your self-induced amusement, happy that there’s an appreciation for nerdy pickup lines and puns. They may not work on his crush - and his brothers sure don’t find them that funny - but he’s glad at least one person around here gets it. 

It felt good to know that you had a friend you could be closer to because of your mutual understanding. For the first time since you realised your feelings for your schoolmate, you didn’t feel so alone. This bond formed on cluttered affection may have seemed unlikely to begin with but who are you to complain now? You and Donnie have a good thing going given your positions. 

That is until your heart diverts its attention towards the very turtle. 

You came to the realisation when he expressed his excitement in showing you his newest invention. The fact that he had called upon you first made you feel special. It made you feel wanted and desired for the first time in your life. A seemingly small phenomenon given how he merely wanted to showcase something to you but the way it had tugged your heart was unparalleled to anything else you had ever experienced - and that smile. You could have happily fawned over that proud grin of proclaimed accomplishment and self-justified pride for the rest of that day. Then, it all came crashing down on you like heaps of scrap in a junkyard. You have fallen for someone who is in love with April. Again. Are you just doomed to fall for any man that crushes this girl? This must be some sick joke. One that you don’t find yourself laughing at. 

It eats away at you for the days - weeks - to come. You can’t console anyone on the matter, either. If any of his family catches wind, there’s a chance of him finding out. An outcome you wish to avoid if possible. As for Casey and April, dear lord you don’t even want to know what would happen if you told them. You’re at square one again just as before: crushing on someone who will never feel the same way about you. Rotting in a pool of your self-made disillusion.

Alone.

Having a crush on someone sucks.

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #donatello #donatello hamato #donatello 2012 #donatello x reader #x reader #donnie tmnt #2012 donnie

[rwbyrg]

RWBY Ship Parallels #1: Fear & Bravery

There are too many ship parallels to put them all in one meta, so I'll make individual posts as I remember them. The first one I want to tackle is how all the canon or hinted-at-being-canon ships all have pivotal moments where the themes of being afraid and/or having courage come up.

Some elaborations under the cut!

For starters, just for context to refer back to throughout the post, the definition of courage/bravery is as follows:

noun 1. the ability to do something that frightens one. 2. strength in the face of pain or grief.

I was initially going to list these chronologically, but we're going to do it on a ship by ship basis instead. First up:

Renora

The first incident for them happens all the way back in V4 during their backstory flashback. Ren underwent a small arc learning from his father that sometimes the worst action to take is not taking any action at all, even if it's scary. He then tries to support Nora by teaching her this same lesson: that they both need to be brave. She expresses vulnerability about how scared she is, Ren confesses to feeling the same, and together they decide to look after each other from that point on. Which makes everything just a bit less frightening.

We also revisit these same themes in their V8 confession. First we see Nora criticizing Ren for running away just because things got difficult:

And after Ren owns up to this cowardice, the things he did out of fear of failure, the conversation shifts. Nora admonishes herself, and Ren lists things off about her that he admires, the last of which - while not using the word itself - calls to how brave of a person she is and cites it as one of the main reasons why he loves her. Because as the definition above states, being strong and helping people without worrying about how much it might hurt you in turn is what it means to have courage.

WhiteKnight

Their heart-to-heart in V9E9 says it all. Weiss has been carrying the weight of failing to save Atlas since it fell, and after Ruby's actions in the episodes prior, she became aware (a bit too late) of how those same failures were weighing on their leader. So when Jaune acknowledges the harm he caused from trying so desperately not to repeat their past mistakes, Weiss is the perfect person to step up for reassurance.

She knows that their failures do not equate to their worth or all the good they're capable of doing. And reminding Jaune of this, calling him a brave and good person in spite of his failures, is what he needed to hear to be able to reach an acceptance he hadn't been able to achieve in all those years trapped alone in the Ever After.

(Also the framing parallel of BB and WK both holding each other is a very nice touch.)

Bumbleby

With BB it's not just one or two moments. Blake and Yang's characters both centre around the themes of cowardice and bravery since their beginnings and we see it come up throughout the show a lot. Back in V2, Yang sees the bravery in Blake when she herself can only focus on the opposite:

Blake: When you figured out I was a faunus I didn't know what to do, so I ran. when I realized my oldest partner had become a monster, I ran! Even my semblance... I was born with ability to leave behind a shadow of myself. An empty copy that takes the hit while I run away.

In V4 and 5 we see Yang struggling to get back on her feet after losing her arm and the trauma she endured at Beacon. Blake tells Sun that she sees Yang as the "embodiment of strength" and we, the audience, get to see the proof of this every time she keeps fighting despite shaking, and especially when she faces off with Raven in the finale.

These parallel arcs culminate with both of them facing off against Adam together, but most especially gets called back to in their mutual confession scene in V9:

Yang acknowledges what she saw in Blake all those years ago, that she doesn't give up on what matters to her, even when people hurt her, she still fights for what's important. While Blake acknowledges Yang's reliability, her strength, and her courage. And both of them, like Renora, cite these reasons as things they admire, and reasons why they love each other.

Now last, but certainly not least:

Rosegarden

One of the very first things Oscar says to Ozpin when he leaves the farm is that he's scared. This comes back time and time again, especially in the Atlas arc where Oscar spends so much of his time counselling Ironwood against letting his fear control him (a conflict Ruby is also a part of). Our little prince even has a theme song titled Fear to really drive it home.

Whereas Ruby has always been the poster child of "keep moving forward", no matter how much the trauma, stress, pressure, and grief weighs you down. You just have to be strong and keep pressing on, fighting the monster that took her mother away. No matter what.

So, much like BB, there are themes around bravery, fear, and perseverance that apply to both Ruby and Oscar's personal arcs. Both of them especially have focus on being brave despite fears of loss. With Oscar, it is fear of losing himself to the merge; whereas Ruby has a fear of losing those she loves.

All the way back in the infamous Dojo Scene is where we first see these themes addressed in their dynamic. It starts with Oscar expressing vulnerability to Ruby about how afraid he really is.

Ruby initially tries her usual strategy; surface level reassurances about just pushing through it... but it doesn't work on him. So after some upset from Oscar, she ends up being vulnerable with him too. Something she hadn't done with anyone else in show by that point.

Ruby admits that she's afraid too, not just for herself, but for the threat Salem poses to the world as they know it and the people within it. Ruby tells him about those she's lost and says that if it had been her instead, those friends would have kept fighting too. That vulnerability, which requires courage in and of itself, is what motivates and inspires Oscar to keep moving forward where Ruby's earlier attempt could not. The scene closes off with one more nod to these themes where Ruby pauses at the door and turns back with one final thought:

In both the above scene and the V4 finale, Ruby cites "fighting for those they've lost and those they haven't lost yet" as her main motive to keep fighting. Up until V8/9 she used this as her greatest source of strength, but that strength is a double edged sword which eventually became her greatest weakness when Neo used it against her. First trapping her in a room with all the people she "failed":

And then landing a finishing blow with making her kill lose one of the people she loves most: Oscar.

Ruby can be brave if it means she can protect the people she loves. But just as Penny's death dealt a very big hit to Ruby's hope, what little she had left was crushed at the thought of losing Oscar (and Little) too.

Aside from that, there has also always been an underlying mystery around what having silver eyes means for Ruby. In V4, she is hunted by Tyrian and in V8 she finds out what her fate would have been had he succeeded. A fate which very justifiably terrifies her and seems to be a theme that will carry on into the Vacuo arc. It is also something that was brought up in the second RWBY x JL movie, I talked about this a little bit in this meta, but I'll share it here as well. In the movie, Ruby opens up a bit about this fear saying the following:

“Did you know I lost my mom when I was a kid? I don’t know exactly what happened to her, I don’t really remember her, I just have stories. And I keep trying to live up to those stories, but… I realize they don’t matter anymore. Heroes fall. And I just want to get as much done as I possibly can before I do.”

This scene directly parallels one of Oscar's back in V6:

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be… me. But I did some thinking, and I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left.”

Both of these scenes show their respective courage around fears related to their issues with identity. Oscar saying he will do whatever he can before he loses himself, and Ruby doing whatever she can before she loses her life as all heroes eventually will.

So to summarize: Renora, Whiteknight, Bumbleby, and Rosegarden all have a scene where one or both partners cite the other's bravery as something they admire or love about the other person. All of these ships also include at least one scene - but often more that just weren't listed here - where they open up and are vulnerable with each other about their fears and motivations. And lastly, with BB and RG especially, bravery and fear are central themes to both their relationship dynamics as well as their individual character arcs within those pairings, all of which narratively parallel each other extensively.

CRWBY is very consistent with how it writes its ships and this is only the tip of the iceberg of all the parallels we've seen between these partners so far. But that's all for now; thanks for reading!

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