#i literally wrote a novel for this someone just. take my phone away- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solarwonux · 3 years

Text

89. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.”

93. “Fuck…did we use protection?”

twitch streamer!wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.9k (honestly I think I forgot what drabbles were clearly lol)

warnings: some angst, smut, mutual masturbation, some slight panty stuffing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pregnancy scare, talks about plan b

note: excuse me everyone I literally love gamer and twitch streamer Wonwoo, but not everyone does. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one if you want more twitch!streamer wonwoo let me I will be happy to oblige, I have MANY ideas. Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts.

p.s send me a prompt for either svt or bts or both. I will also happily oblige to that lol

Masterlist || Drabble game

Watching Wonwoo play Zelda was not what you had expected when he had texted earlier asking you to come over. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.” He whispered against your lips in a half kiss when you walked in through his front door.

That had been over an hour and three completed levels ago. It was an empty promise long forgotten as he kept himself immersed in the game, talking enthusiastically about his day and random things his brain would conjure up on the spot. It was like you didn’t exist, and for the most part to his viewers, you didn’t. It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend or anything. Even if you were, you valued your privacy more than anything in the world. You preferred to work on your own things in the background away from his camera whenever you were over. This was something the two of you had mutually agreed to.

Casual hangs and casual sex.

Lately, your relationship had become the product of most of your stress. You never knew where you stood with Wonwoo. Sometimes he would literally invite you over to keep him company while he streamed only to kick you out the second he finished. “I’m too tired, you should go.” He would say pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’ll see you later.”

Of course, those moments were overshadowed by the soft touches he left imprinted on your skin. By the sweetness of the words he shared with you and only you whenever he wasn’t working. It made you want more. More of him, more of his attention, and more of whatever was going on between the two of you. But that was something you refused to bring up afraid that the only one harboring feelings for the other was you.

Heartbreak was not in your plans for life, at least not for a while.

You sighed, throwing your phone down onto the couch. Your patience was wearing thin. Maybe it had to do with the fact you were already having a bad day, and Wonwoo’s indifference towards you wasn’t helping. When you had gotten his text earlier, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. The two of you hadn’t seen each other in a few days with work schedules being all over the place and not aligning. It was something to look forward to, not necessarily because of the sex--which was always amazing. But you really just wanted to talk to him. Lay down with his arms wrapped around you while you complained about work and how frustrating your coworkers were being.

By the looks of it, you weren’t going to get any of that, not even what he had promised when you had first walked in. You were tired, your clothes were starting to annoy and you wanted to cry. If it wasn’t for the fact that his front door was in line with his camera, you would’ve left already.

Wonwoo could sense something was wrong with you. Every time you sighed it felt like you were punching him in the gut. He really meant what he had said when you walked in earlier. He also meant the quiet I love you he mumbled underneath his breath when you walked past him and into the living room. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with you, just that months ago he had woken up and you were the only thing he could think of. Every time he held you in his arms the three little words bubbled up in the back of his throat, wishing he could bring himself to finally say it, but his fear held him back. Afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.

“Alright, you know what I think that’s enough for tonight.” Wonwoo smiled into the camera, trying to keep up with the chat as they begged him not to go yet. “I have to go, my girlfriend is over and I want to spend time with her. Anyway, same time next week Monday guys.” Wonwoo nodded, stopping the stream. Once he was positive that he had turned everything off he felt his shoulders relax and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the panic surging through his veins was unbearable. He turned around in his chair meeting your equally shocked face.

He royally fucked up. He just confessed to his audience without meaning to confess. He had told his audience that you were his girlfriend and he hadn’t even asked you yet. The surprise and speech he had worked on all week, the reason he took a break from streaming until tonight, was for nothing. He had gotten ahead of himself and he didn’t know what to do now. Or how to fix it.

“G-Girlfriend? Wait you have a fucking girlfriend?” You stood up from his couch, blinded by anger. “What the fuck Wonwoo, when were you going to tell me? Before or after you fucked me?” You shouted, your heart was beating fast as you turned around to gather up your stuff.

Unbelievable. Here you were distracted, thinking about how cute he looked while he blamed his failure on his character. The pout that had formed on his lips as he pushed his glasses up his nose and blew out a raspberry, moving aside the strands of his newly dyed blonde hair. The frustration you had felt earlier, forgotten, replaced with admiration. Only for it to come back after what he had said, this time fiery red and ready to burn everything it touched.

“Stop, no wait, I don’t have a girlfriend. At least not yet.” He spoke fast, his words blending with one another as he quickly made his way to you. He grabbed hold of your laptop and held it against his chest.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, did you just call me down to ignore me and then fuck me one last time before you called it quits!” You said in disbelief reaching over for your laptop.

Wonwoo turned around facing away from you. “No that’s not...that’s not what...fuck, calm down please and just let me talk.” He pleaded as he sat down on his couch, your laptop still clutched tightly in his arms. It was your prized possession, it held the first three drafts of the novel you were working on. He knew you well enough to know that you hadn’t backed anything up no matter how many times he told you to do so. So, he was positive that as long as he held onto it like his life depended on it (because it did) you wouldn’t leave without it.

You crossed your arms in front of you ”I am calm, but I don’t know if I want to listen to what you have to say.”

Wonwoo cringed, he was more nervous than what he had intended to be. He had an entire speech planned. Wrote it down, even got Jihoon to proofread it. He had performed it in front of his bathroom mirror every morning and night. He thought he had it in the bag, pumped up his chest a few times before opening his front door to you earlier. Yet, the second he saw you, he forgot everything he had planned to say. This is mainly why he had spent such a long time streaming. Hoping that the distraction would somehow help him remember.

It didn’t.

“Wonwoo, I swear if you don’t start talking in the next five seconds I’m leaving and suing you for holding my laptop hostage.”

Wonwoo sighed and slapped his forehead lightly before turning to look at you, “okay, I don’t think that’s allowed bu-”

“It is if I say that you stole it trying to steal my work, I don’t know I’ll find a way.” You shrugged, earning a glare from Wonwoo. You knew he hated whenever someone interrupted him while he was in the middle of saying something. It was something you would do to him out of spite, but in your humble opinion this time he really did deserve it. Though, it didn’t make you feel as good as you had hoped, “fine sorry, you can continue.” You sighed and sat down on his coffee table.

Wonwoo put your laptop down and leaned over his elbows taking your hands in his. “I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend. I know we agreed to just keep this casual but I can’t help the way my heart literally feels like it’s going to fall out of my ass whenever I’m with you. So yeah, I don’t have a girlfriend yet, because I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend yet. But there’s no one else, only you, and I’m so-”

Wonwoo was cut off when he felt your body land on his, knocking the air out of his lungs. You hugged him, straddling his hips and burying your face into his chest, giggling. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you felt awful for assuming the worst and jumping to conclusions.

“Ask me ask me ask me ask me.” You bounced on his lap like a child. He groaned doubling over in pain.

He placed his hands on your hips to keep you from moving, “No now I know you’re actually trying to kill me.” He smirked and left a sweet kiss against your lips. A low chuckle running past his lips as he took in your pouting face, “fine, my love, my baby will you please be my girlfriend?” He cocked his head, his hands playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Yes, but only if you give me my laptop back and keep the promise you made me earlier.” You smiled innocently, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Wonwoo smirked, his hands made their way underneath your shirt. “No to the laptop, you work too much and I’m determined to back up everything on a hard drive later.” He rubbed his thumbs over the skin of your hips, slowly inching closer to the button of your jeans, “not sure I remember the promise I made earlier though, can you remind me?”

You kissed him slowly, tugging on his shirt, “you said you would finish a level before going down on me all night, and it’s four and a half levels later and I’m still waiting.” You whispered against his lips, before pulling away and bringing his shirt over his head, taking it off, throwing it behind him, aiming for the laundry basket, missing it completely, making you sigh.

“Well you didn’t give me enough time to answer, but that can be arranged.” He pecked your lips, pushing your shirt up and over your head, throwing it behind him. “You’d have to step into my office though.”

“Wonwoo, baby, don’t ever call your room your office.” You rolled your eyes and got up from his lap.

He chuckled, shaking his head and stood up, “oh no that’s not what I meant, room comes later. Tonight we start in my office.” He says cheekily, pointing his thumb towards his gaming setup. Your eyes grew wide as saucers, only making him laugh harder while he pushed you towards his gaming chair.

“Wait, you’re like not going to turn the camera on are you?” You said as he pushed you down to sit in which you obeyed. The colorful lights from his gaming setup kept you distracted as Wonwoo got down on his knees in front of you.

“Nope, I’ve just always wanted to eat you out while you sat on my gaming chair. But maybe one day in the future if you want. You can take over my stream and play animal crossing while I secretly eat you out on camera.” He smirked, the evil glint behind his soft eyes sent shivers down your spine. The little exibitionist in him coming out. You’d be lying if you didn’t find the thought of it exciting.

“One day.” You breathed, lifting your hips, helping him as he pulled down your pants.

Wonwoo sent you a wink pushing your thighs apart with his hands, “We can also play overwatch together. That cute little vibrator you keep hidden in your bedside drawer, stuffed inside your pussy.” He placed his index finger over the wet patch that had formed over your panties, pushing in slightly. “And everytime you die I up the speed, see how long you can last before you have me begging to turn off the stream so you can cum.” Wonwoo kept pushing his finger in you, your panties sticking onto you like second skin.

You threw your head back, digging your nails into the arms of his leather chair. “F-Fuck how long h-have you thought about this?” You lifted your hips as he added another finger.

“Right now, or maybe a few times when you’re not around.” He leaned down kissing your mound lightly, “but seeing you like this, sprawled out, wet and waiting for my mouth is reinforcing those fantasies.” He worked his fingers diligently, pushing the thin material of your panties inside of you. He couldn’t wait to stuff you full with his cock later.

You let out a whimper as his mouth traveled down to your clothed entrance. He removed his fingers licking up a stride, before taking one of your lips into his mouth and biting down on it gently. “W-Wonwoo please I want to feel your mouth.”

“You are, aren’t you?.” He looked, staring at you through the rim of his round glasses before repeating his actions again making you whimper. “Take your bra off, play with yourself for me.” He left a chaste kiss in your inner thigh and sat back on his heels. He palmed himself over his black tracksuit pants as he watched you slowly unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms. You were teasing him, he knew this but he didn’t care. Seeing you get undressed for him was one of his favorite past times, especially because you always went extra slow for him.

You threw your bra, not caring where it landed. You rolled your palms over your nipples, soft sighs running past your lips as you kept your eyes trained on Wonwoo. “Want to feel your hot tongue fucking me Woo.” You spread your legs even further pinching your nipples. You moved your hand down your body, your index finger playing with the seam of your panties. “Is this one of your fantasies? Me touching myself, sitting here?” You said, tilting your head to the side, moving your hand into your panties and running your index and middle fingers over your clit slowly.

“Yes.” He hissed, pushing his hand into his boxers grabbing onto his cock. “God, you make me so hard.”

“Let me see please.” You arched your back, your fingers getting faster. Wonwoo nodded, wasting no time to free himself, his hand wrapped tightly around his length. His index finger connects with the small bead of precum that had formed, showing you how sticky and ready he was for you.

“Want to taste?” You nodded letting out soft moans as you lifted your hips, into the palm of your hand, sticking your tongue out for him. “Fuck.” He cursed getting up on his knees, bringing his index finger up to your mouth. You closed your lips around it, swirling your tongue over the tip, savoring the salty substance.

You pulled away with a pop, taking your fingers out of your panties and bringing them up to his lips. He took them in, moaning around them. “Do I taste good?” You said taking out your fingers from his mouth, moving them over his lips, wetting them further.

“I’m going to have to take a closer look.” He said lowly, pushing your panties down in a haste. He spread your legs, licking up your slit, teasing your hole with his tongue. Being in between your legs was his second most favorite pastime. He savored every moment of it. Sometimes he would prolong your orgasm, keeping you on edge, so that when you came, your sweet substance would coat his lips, spilling down his chin and neck. It was the most beautiful site, one that only he had the privilege in witnessing.

“Mmm, your tongue feels so good Wonwoo.” You pinched your nipple while tugging on the roots of his blonde hair, pushing his mouth closer.

He moaned, slurping up your juices like you were his last meal. He wrapped his mouth around your clit, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go. “I want to be here forever but I don’t think I can last any longer without being inside of you.” He pushed two of his fingers inside of you. The feeling of your wet walls wrapped around his thick calloused fingers made his cock twitch.

“B-But I-I want to cum.” You pouted, arching your back away from his chair, pushing your hips further into his hand. “Please, I’m so close already.” You pant, the knot in the pit of your stomach threatening to break.

“Oh honey, you will. I’ll have you coming undone more than three times tonight.” He stated with determination and brought his mouth down again, closing his lips around your clit. He sucked harshly moaning sinfully. He fucked you faster with his fingers curling them upwards, reaching the soft mushy skin inside of you.

“W-Wonwoo f-fuck don’t stop I-I’m so close.”

Wonwoo let go of your swollen bud, slowing down his fingers as you clenched around them. “Look at me, I want to watch me while you cum.” You agreed with a pleasure filled sigh, watching as he pushed back his glasses. The sight almost had you coming undone.

He put his mouth on you again, increasing the pace of his fingers. Babbles coming out of your mouth as you pulled on his hair, motivating him to go faster. The squelching sounds coming from your wet, hot pussy sounded like music to his ears. He bit down on your clit lightly, sending you over the edge, your cum coating his fingers, while you moaned his name in a sweet sinful prayer. His eyes burning holes into yours, the sight was award winning, his cock begging to be milked out.

Wonwoo continued, riding out your orgasm. Until you felt the oversensitivity overcome your body “W-Woo, s-stop please.” You pushed his head carefully with the palm of your hand.

He kissed the inside of both of your thighs before sitting up on his knees, taking your face into his hands. “You always look so pretty when you cum.” He pecked your lips repeatedly, before wrapping your arms around you hugging you tightly. “I love you so much.” He kissed your temple.

“Why do you always get so mushy every time you make me cum?” You laughed gently, running your fingers down his back, making him shiver.

“You bring out in me, I can’t help it, stop complaining. I’m giving you time to recover before I bend you over my desk.”

“Not complaining. I love it.” You kissed his cheek. “And I love you.” You whispered in his ear, taking his earlobe, pulling it between your teeth.. He groaned, swallowing hard, his getting tighter around you.

“My desk, then my couch, then my bed, then the shower, and then my bed again.”

The sun had started to rise. It was five in the morning and your body was suddenly overcome with sleep, when Wonwoo pulled out of you one last time. He had kept true to his promise, literally fucked you the entire night, christening his apartment, except his kitchen. “If we have sex in the kitchen, the only thing I’ll be thinking about while I’m cooking is your mouth around my dick.” He said as he pushed you into the wide window of his living room, making you laugh.

“Do you have to work today?” He placed a delicate kiss against your collar bone, laying his head on top of your chest.

“It’s Saturday, why would I have work on Saturday?” You smiled sleepily, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed happily, pulling his sheets over the two of you and cuddling into you further.

“You’re always working, I just wanted to ask.” He shrugged, raising his body enough to leave a chaste kiss against your lips. “Take a break today and I promise that by the time you wake up again I’ll have all of your files backed up into the harddrive I bought you.”

You shook your head, placing both of your palms against his cheeks, squishing them. “Do you know how sexy you sound when you talk about computers.”

“Nope, but you once told me to divide you in half when I was explaining finances to you. Now that I think about it, that statement can go both ways.” He smiled laying down on his back, bringing you along with him. Your eyes growing wide when you felt it running down your thighs. You sat up in panic, removing the sheets of your body to see if your silent hypothesis was correct.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, confused.

“Wonwoo, fuck...did we use protection?”

Wonwoo pushed the covers away with his feet, sitting up quickly. He looked between your legs, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, “You’re on the pill still right?”

“We changed my formula, I had to stop taking it for a few days.” You threw yourself down on his bed covering your eyes with your hands. The tears pooling against your eyes. You felt the bed dip next to you. Wonwoo took your hands in his, revealing your tearful eyes to him making him sigh.

“Baby, don’t worry.” He kissed your cheeks repeatedly before sitting up again, “I’ll run down to the convenience store, get a plan b while you go take a bath. I’ll join you when I get back.”

“W-What’s happens if I take the plan b and still miraculously end up pregnant, it’s only ninety five percent effective.”

“Then I’ll be with you every step of the way. I meant what I said earlier, I love you so much and I plan to marry you and have kids with you one day. Don’t worry.”

Your heart felt full. The butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach. Wonwoo and you had shared many intimate dreams and desires before, but this one felt different. This was a dream the two of you shared and it made you feel at ease. “Okay, okay I will, just hurry up please.”

Wonwoo scoffed, getting up from his bed, slipping on his sweatpants and sweatshirt. “Baby please don’t underestimate me. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned down giving you one last kiss before jogging over to his front door. “I love you.” He shouted, opening the door.

You laughed sitting up on your elbows shaking your head, “I love you, now hurry I can feel your child cooking in me.”

“Impossible, it takes roughly twenty four hours for my sperm to fertilize one of your eggs, and it’s literally been thirty minutes. Therefore you wou--”

“Wonwoo shut up just hurry.”

“Okay I love you.” He said while closing his front door. You laughed shaking your head falling back on his bed. Your entire body was aching and though you were a little scared, given obvious circumstances. You had never felt so much warmth and happiness in your life.

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ererokii · 3 years

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Line without a Hook || E. Jaeger & J. Kirstein

➳ Jean Kirsten x Fem Reader x Eren Jaeger

Word count: 4,517 Warnings: angst, fluff, unrequited love, cursing ➳ note: this is based off the song Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery! I’ve been thinking this for a long time and I’m super excited by how it came out! Also big thanks to @reddriot for betaing!

➳ Synopsis: is love really worth it? Let me say, it’s not always worth it.

You can hold my hand if no one’s home.

Do you like it when I’m away?

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

It starts out simple really. A boy and a girl. Childhood friends, to be precise. Those two are inseparable. Nothing can tear the friends apart, besides their parents, of course. Like two peas in a pod.

Jean says he knows you like the back of his hand. He truly means that. He knows your favorite boy bands from when you were younger, how many terrible phases you’ve gone through, favorite foods, and places. If he wrote a novel about the things you told him, he would be a renowned author.

Since kindergarten to now, in the middle of your junior year, you and Jean have been side by side. You told him everything. From random vents and gossiping about the rude girls in your class to how horrible your period cramps were— even though Jean hated hearing about the last, he stuck through it for you.

Only you.

The pavement that followed the street your house was on is memorable. Jean can recall the amount of times you’ve had races, chalk scribbles covering the grey that would be washed away by the angry neighbors.

He listens to you as you talk about a kid getting in trouble in your Calculus class, watches how lively your motions are as you speak. Jean can’t help but smile when a laugh slips past your lips and you glance at him. There’s an unknown sparkle in his eyes, one filled with love.

You haven’t changed one bit, he thinks as he faces back forward, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His mind begins to wander as you both continue down the pavement, part of your routine when school ends.

Your houses are right next to each other. You’ve been with him since you were in diapers. He was there when your first tooth came out, congratulating you, and you were there for him when he finally learned to ride his bike with two wheels instead of three.

The bubbly lovable five-year-old back then is the same as you are now.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Oh all my emotions

Feel like explosions when you are around

A sigh of disappointment leaves Jean’s lips when he listens to Connie talk about something he has learned over the weekend (something completely stupid— he just doesn’t care). Currently, the students are at lunch, the cafeteria full with loud shouts and random noises.

“Connie, shut up,” Sasha groans, placing her water bottle on the table, wiping her crumbs off. “No one cares that you finally figured out how to stick a spoon to your nose.”

“What do you mean?! You were the one who showed me!”

The brunette gasps and looks over his way, cream cheeks tinted with an adorable shade of pink, pointing a finger at him. The bickering between the two commence as Jean listens, slightly amused.

As much as he indulges in their argument, he can't help but wonder where you are.

It’s not like you to skip lunch, especially without at least letting him know. Did you stay behind to talk to a friend? A teacher? Maybe you went to the bathroom.

But it’s at least 15 minutes in.

“Sasha,” he speaks up, slicking back his hair. The sound of her name catches her attention, making her look at him. “Have you seen Y/N?”

“Y/N?” she asks in a whisper before her lips curl in a grin, already knowing why he asked. “Do you miss her?”

“Just answer my goddamn question!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Connie asks, looking between his friends before stopping his gaze on Jean. “Why do you need Y/N?”

“Oh, you know! He lik-”

“Shut up!” Jean shouts, catching the attention of nearby students, his face heating up as his cheeks turn a darker pigment. “Just answer me!”

“If you must know,” she taunts him, twirling a strand of hair from her loose ponytail. “I saw her talking to someone in the hallway. Must be important, she’s been there for quite some time. Might want to be her knight in shining armor and saving her, huh?” she cocks her head to the side, staring at one of the windows in the room, watching as the branches of trees sway from the harsh winds.

The atmosphere outside was cold, breezes rushing down on anyone who was not inside. The sun was hidden by the thick grey blankets filled with rainwater, waiting to shower the world. The temperature recently has been dropping, mid 50’s at least. The weather was a shock, to say the least.

“I didn’t know Jean likes her!”

“What do you mean?!” Sasha gasps, turning her body to face her small-minded friend. “It’s only obvious! You must be really stupid then!”

“Well, how could you tell?!”

Before Jean has a chance to interrupt Sasha, she begins to rant. He prefers to stay silent, clasping his hands together in his lap as he lowers his head, finding interest in the marbled tiles of the floor his feet rest on.

The words that slip past Sasha’s lips reach his ear and out the other.

It’s easy to tell, Connie. Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything? Here you guys are, two close friends, I thought you would have known about his crush. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on every time he ditched plans with us to go hang out with her. He’s whipped, and you’re too stupid to know it.

His cheeks turn a shade of pink as his eyes squeeze shut, her words replaying in his head like a broken record player. Each sentence is like a knife stabbing away at his brain, causing the slightest ache to form in his frontal region.

She’s right. Anything she just said five minutes ago, is completely and utterly correct.

He can still hear her talking about it to Connie, but he can only focus on three sentences that stick to him like glue.

Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything?

Memories of him helping you in any possible way come to mind. He can’t recall how many times he has entered class two minutes late because you had so much to carry.

He stares at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at. It reminds him of those cliche animated movies with hearts in the character's eyes. He’s blinded by his love for you, that he never noticed any signs that you don’t feel the same way about him. His heart races miles per hour when you’re around. Sometimes he worries for himself that maybe, his heart might explode within him.

“Anyway, lunch has about 20 minutes left...where is she?” Connie mutters, scratching the top of his head.

“I don’t know, but,” Sasha grows quiet, listening to the ongoing thunder from the outside. The lights flicker for a second, a couple of yelps emitting from other students, slightly afraid that the power might go off while school is in session. “The storm is almost here.”

“Y/N!” Connie suddenly yells, pointing in the direction of the door, your body jogging closer to the table. “Where have you been?!”

“Sorry!” you laugh, out of breath as you drop your things on the bench, taking a seat beside Jean. “I got caught up in a conversation with someone! I guess I lost track of time for a bit.”

“I messaged you like four times,” Jean mutters, glancing over at you before looking at the table, playing with the plastic straw that he used to drink out of.

“You did?” you ask, pulling your phone out from your pocket, lips puckering when indeed he did so. “I’m sorry, Jean. I didn’t even feel my phone vibrate.”

“Oh, whatever, who cares! Eat! Or I’ll eat your food!” Sasha yells, pointing a finger at you, a smile gracing her features.

You laugh along with her as you converse with your peers, the conversation you had replaying in the back of your mind. Jean chooses not to intervene, instead would rather listen.

The roaring thunder plays in the background, everyone paying no mind to it. What he doesn’t know is that the storm is much closer than Jean could have thought.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Listen close, it’s a no

The wind is a pounding on my back

And I found hope in a heart attack

Oh at last, it is past

Now I’ve got it, and you can’t have it

Another evening, another study session, another day of bottling up his feelings until he can no longer hold them inside.

The storm made its way to shore, raining pouring down and even some hail; not what anyone was expecting.

Jean mindlessly flips through the pages of his English book, not even paying attention to the words as he checks how many pages are in chapter five.

“This seems pointless,” he adds with a sigh, tossing the book on your bed along with his highlighter he uses to annotate with. “I should just find a summary online or something, I don’t want to read this.”

“And why is that?” you ask, looking up from your book, placing the hardcover against your thighs. “Is it boring to you?”

“No,” he mutters, rolling onto his back. “It’s stupid. This love crap.”

“Well...it is a romance story, the teacher told us when we got the book. But why do you think it’s dumb?”

“He writes letters for her, and in the end, she ends up rejecting him. I don’t think that’s romantic.”

“And? It’s beautiful on his part,” you close your eyes as you stretch your arms over your head, letting out a grunt. “It’s the fact that he wrote to her every day. It’s like he poured his soul into every word. The words he uses are..literally everything. It makes me swoon over him, and he’s not real. Makes me wonder if someone would do that for me.”

Jean’s head perks up at your words, one of his eyebrows raised in curiosity when he notices the bashful look on your face, eyes averted to the comforter on your bed. “Why do you have that dopey look on your face?”

“Huh?!” your eyes are blown open as you look over at him. “What are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about that, idiot,” he points at your face, watching your eyes cross faintly to stare at his finger. “You’re acting about that guy in the book.”

The patter of the rain is the only noise that fills the void called silence in your room. His warm eyes don’t leave your face at all, waiting for your answer. You’ve been acting weird ever since you were late to lunch this past week.

He watches your mouth open as if you’ll say something but close it right away, like you were concealing anything you had to hide.

“...well? Y/N? Are you there?”

“Yeah!” you cough into your elbow, running a hand down your face. “I-- you can’t tell anyone.”

“You know I never tell anyone what we talk about.”

You’re silent, a bit too quiet than usual. You fiddle with your fingers before blurting the words that have been eating away at you.

Jean’s heart stops for a moment, eyes wide in shock when he processes it. His blood runs cold as he’s unable to move, frozen like a statue. The signals in his brain begged him to respond, but he couldn’t. He could hear the faintest sound of bells ringing in his ears; all noise surrounding him was now drowned out by his thoughts.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

“You like someone?” he asks in a whisper, barely audible to your ears, but you heard as you nod shyly, biting down on your lip. “Well... who is it?”

“That’s...I can’t say it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m afraid to say it out loud because I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him.”

Friendship? That could be anyone at this point.

I have to figure out who, he thinks as he draws random patterns into the sheets. “Well, tell me about him then. Is he in our grade?” he asks.

“Yeah, he is. He’s in four of my classes.”

Jean was in four of your classes. Math, English, Foreign Language, and Science.

“That’s it?”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Can I finish before you interrupt? Thank you.”

You pause momentarily before speaking again.

“He’s stubborn. I’ve noticed that his demeanor changes when it depends on who he is with. He seems like a hardass and looks like he doesn’t want to be bothered, but he seems like a total softie when he’s with people he loves. Not to mention he’s hot...and tall. He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.”

Jean takes every word you say into consideration. He’s stubborn, it seems that he doesn’t like to be around people he doesn’t know but loves those he does know. He knows he’s hot. Practically every day he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks about how good he looks.

He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he really seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.

Jean can feel his doubt and worry turn into happiness and confidence as you keep on ranting, to which he’s not fully paying attention anymore. He knows it's him. It has always been him.

No one else.

Jean likes you.

And you like Jean, that’s all there is to it.

“Do you want to tell him?”

“Yeah...” you trail off, scratching the nape of your neck. “I want to tell him on Friday after school. Do you think he’ll like me back?”

“I think he would. How could he not? He would be a total idiot to reject you.”

You hum at his reassurance, placing your hand on his, squeezing gently.

“Thanks, Jean.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Darling when I’m fast asleep

I've seen this person watching me

Saying, “Is it worth it? Is it worth it?”

Tell me, is it worth it?

Friday comes, and Jean can hardly wait for school to end. He’s not paying attention, his eyes constantly staring from the whiteboard in the front to the clock that tauntingly ticks slower than usual.

He bites down on the pink end of his pencil in anticipation, tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor, the noise resonating through the classroom.

Maybe I should just keep my eyes off the clock, he thinks, lowering his head back to the worksheet their teacher gave the class.

Econ class was a drag. He could care less about the differences in macro and microeconomics, the same with Communism and Capitalism. It’s just a bunch of words that don’t make sense to his brain.

This was one of the classes he didn’t have with you, the last class.

Instead of doing his worksheet (luckily, the teacher said it would be for homework if it wasn’t finished), Jean proceeded to think about ways he could tell you his feelings.

He could be old fashioned, tell you how much he adores you and how happy you make him feel when you’re around. How his heart can be heard from the outside of his body, how his hands got warm and clammy, maybe sweaty when he became too nervous.

He could ask you out on a date. Take you somewhere, one of the places you’ve told him in the past that would make a great date for you. He smiles when he thinks about taking you downtown at night, looking at the soft lights that would brighten the streets; loving the sparkle in your orbs as you look around in awe.

He hums, pleased with himself when he figures out what he’ll do, scratching the back of his ear.

He wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

You glance at your table partner, looking at his piece of paper before looking down at yours, displeased how his is able to look better than yours. You pick up your eraser, gently wiping the shadings away from your drawing, careful not to crease your paper.

“It’s not that hard you know, you just don’t know how to shade.”

“I know how to shade, Eren,” you reply with a huff, placing your eraser back down. “It’s just...this is a bit harder than usual.”

“All you have to do is follow the markings,” he presses the edge of his drawing pencil against the reference photo both of you are using, tracing the shape of it. “You could honestly just copy the photo, I doubt this woman would even notice.”

You chuckle at his choice of words, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. “I don’t think she would anyway. She just stares at it and calls it an A. I bet for our expressive project, she wouldn’t notice if we copied each other.”

He shakes his head with a smile, the loose strands of his hair swaying with his head movement. “No, she wouldn’t,” he rolls the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows, grabbing his pencil again. “Then again, we are working on it with each other.”

“Speaking of that, what should we do?”

“Up to you, Y/N. I don’t mind. I’m just trying to pass this stupid class anyway.”

You relish in the silence between you as you gaze at him from your peripheral. You take notice how his hair frames his face effortlessly to the dip in his nose. It’s perfect how it forms to his cupid’s bow to his lips; not too big nor too small either. Just right.

You clear your throat, scratching at the nape of your neck. “Why not do...stages of love?”

That catches his interest.

“Stages of love?” he asks, moving in his chair to face you, a hand propping his head up. “Elaborate?”

“Like you know...how we gain a crush on someone. We like how they make us feel, and soon we think about them some more. Maybe make little scenarios in our head. Then we gain the crush and want to be around them. You know what I mean, right?”

He’s silent, hues that represent the blue of rivers, boring into your own. At first, you think he hates your idea, but then the corner of his lips curls into his infamous grin. “Yeah, I like that. Did you have anything else in mind?”

“Maybe...rejection?”

“Rejection?” he repeats, a bit shocked at how romantic your words were, to something filled with sadness. “And why would you want to do rejection?”

“W-Well,” you stutter, unsure how you should put it. “Everyone always talks about the good in love but never the bad. And I think it could be done good, you know?”

He hums, scratching away at his chin before nodding. “Yeah, alright. That sounds oddly specific, but I like it. We can honestly get started soon, that way, we can finish faster and not worry about it.”

His smile throws you for a loop, your face heating up as you pick up your pencil, trying to distract yourself.

“Say, Y/N?”

“Yes, Eren?” you reply a bit too quickly, cursing yourself out internally for sounding too desperate.

“Can we talk?” his cheeks are a shade of pink, his eyes averted as he plays with one of the strings of his hood, reminding you how a child would distract themselves. The tips of his shoe nudge against yours, barely kicking gently.

“Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No, I mean after school.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

And in my eyes, there is a tiny dancer

Watching over me, he’s singing,

Jean storms out of his Econ class with a grin, hands gripping onto the straps of his backpack as he looks down one end of the hallway before going down the other direction. The art room was three classes down his. Usually, Jean will wait right there by the door for you since you take ages to finally leave the classroom.

When Jean finally reaches the room, he sees that the doors are locked, and the lights inside are off.

Huh, that’s weird, you’re always one of the last to leave, nor are you ever this early.

He stands there for a few more seconds, peering in through the small glass, and sees nothing before taking a step back and quickly continues to walk down the hall. His legs are quicker, going down the two flights of stairs.

His eyes frantically search for the yellow shirt you wore, unable to find you anywhere.

“Sasha!” he calls out once he reaches the end of the stairs, running towards the girl and their friend, who was at the lockers, pulling things she needed to take home for the weekend.

The brunette looks over her shoulder, stopping her conversation with Connie as she shuts her locker. “Yeah, Jean?”

He pants, leaning on his knees before letting out a deep breath and standing straight up. “Have you seen Y/N?”

She ponders for a while before shaking her head, looking over at Connie, who shakes his head, shrugging. “We haven’t seen her since Art class.”

“You didn’t see where she went at all?”

The events before class ending play in her mind before she gasps, snapping her fingers, pointing up at Jean. “Yeah, I know where she went!”

“...are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?!”

She mocks him for a second before pulling her phone out. “I could have seen her leave with Eren. I think they went to the bench in the back. You know the one I’m talking about?”

He’s taken aback for a moment before shaking his head, retaining the information. “Alright, thanks.”

Why would you even be with Eren right now? You never meet with him after-

“Are we still on for this weekend?!” Connie yells when Jean is making his way down the corridor.

“Yeah, we are!” Jean's voice travels through the air, reaching both of his friends, hands clammy as they’re shoved in the front pocket of his pants.

The walk to the back courtyard was tiresome. His feet seemed to drag behind him, an aching feeling forming in his gut. Thoughts pounded against his skull repeatedly, trying to force him to stop. He wants to stop, but he has to go.

He has to tell you he loves you.

He can’t help but smile when you describe the boy you like this week. In his mind and most certainly his heart, he was the king of the world sitting on his high horse as he screamed in victory, letting the whole world know that the person he likes, feels the same way about him.

The fresh air from the outside meets his nostrils as he deeply inhales, allowing it to enter his body before exiting. The sun is the first thing he meets with as he exits the building, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes away from the harsh light. He mutters something under his breath as he looks around for a second.

“She’s a,

She’s a lady and I’m just a boy”

His honey orbs finally stop on a bench where you and Eren are seated, that’s not too far away, but his body is hidden from your view. He lets out a sigh of relief, leaves crunching underneath his feet as he walks, not taking long strides, rather walking slow to rethink what he’ll say.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you for a long...no,” he mutters, stopping in his tracks as he looks down at the green grass and leaves, kicking away at them. “I’ve loved- no, that sounds a bit aggressive, goddammit,” he groans, tugging at the roots of his hairs. “Why is this so fucking hard?!” he growls underneath his breath, leaning against the brick wall.

He never was anything else but honest with you. How could he say it?

What if this ruins your relationship?

...what if you liked Eren?

His breath hitches in his throat when realization dawns on him. His lips part, a soft exhale releasing from within him. His fingers curl around nothing, as if he was holding the air’s hand. The tips of his fingers shake, his whole body stiffening as he stares hard at nothing.

How could he be so stupid?

It all made sense now. How you stayed behind during lunch that one time without saying anything; in the back of his mind that day, he knew that someone had to be a boy, maybe a girl. Even then, you would always let him know.

Jean should have known from the beginning that you only saw him as a brother.

His chest aches as his vision goes blurry, biting down on the inside of his lip to the point where he can taste the bitter metallic on his tongue. He squeezes his eyes shut before opening, wishing he hadn’t at that moment.

He’s singing

“She’s a, she’s a lady and I am just a line without a hook.”

His heart breaks, stomach-dropping when he sees Eren’s hand brings you closer to his body, lips pressed up against yours; your hand placed on his cheek, cradling his face. Even from where he stands, he can sense the urgency in the kiss, how your bodies move together as one, how your fingers grip onto him like he’ll leave any moment.

His lower lip quivers for a second, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing his throat. Jean cranes his neck upward, looking at the sky, muttering the words, “Why him?” over and over like a mantra, no other words coming to mind.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you. Not Eren, just you. Those moments where you laugh, cry, or stay silent, those are the moments that flash in his head.

Did he do something to you? Was it something he said?

Did you ever like him at all?

“It’s pointless,” he whispers, pushing himself off the brick wall, immediately making a beeline for the doors. He swallows harshly, legs moving faster than ever, wanting to get out of this hell hole called reality.

Like every day, you’ll walk down the same pavement you’ve been walking on for years.

Only this time, he’s walking alone.

Oh, and if I could take it all back

I swear that I would pull you from the tide.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

taglist: @sleepysnk @jaegerbomb20 @reddriot @kkiimmberly @kingtamakimurder @tamasoft @byougen @spike-this-ass @crimsonbows-and-arrows @squidonmywall @thicmitten (message me to be apart of it!)

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #attack on titan imagines #shingeki no kyojin imagines #eren imagines #eren jaeger imagines #jean imagines #jean kirstein imagines

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

Text

Crash-course for all the evidence of Will creating the mindflayer/upsidedown

* Honestly I’ve talked about this stuff in my did theories- where I explained how the upsidedown/mf/ the lab subjects/ and russians all connect back to Will creating them. But since so may people assume that Will got his powers from the upsidedown/mf rather than Will creating it all subconsciously (with his powers). Thought i’d do a short analysis of just that connection (without boggling it down with those other plot lines that are interconnected) . *So I’m not mentioning the lights -because it interconnects with the numbers/lab.I’m just going to list every example in short succession from every season for brevity’s sake (so it won’t be structured as eloquently as prior analyses).

refresher of how Will influences the mf/upsidedown ...

S1)

Will ( in s1e1) says to Dustin if he could have any comic it would be the xmen. Dustin later says "do you think - el was born with her powers like the xmen? " Will plays a d&d game saying the demogorgan got him -so it does irl. Will writes stories where bad guys weakness are fire so the mf/ demogorgans are lit on fire in s1-3 (and it's their weakness). Will watches poltergeist so Will is forced to be the child character in that film- who was trapped in a alternative dimension and could only speak to their mother through tech. The demogrgan is said to resemble a shark by nancy-mathcing Will’s Jaws movie poster in his room. in s1 Mr clarke describes the vale of shadows (later the upsidedown) as being created by “necrotic” (’dead’-zombie boy) and “shadow” (shadow monster/mf) “magic”. In d&d the Vale of Shadows, is as a lush valley hidden in the mountains that holds a sacred pool with the power to make dreams reality. In d&d the demogorgan is literally called the "deep father" in d&d Nancy also says the demogorgan is like a “lion” the meaning of the name Lonnie- is literally “lion”. We see it attack Will when using lonnie's gun (in lonnie's shed). And it knocks the bat out of Jonathan's hand too. (Baseball/hunting were taught by their dad lonnie). The demogorgan also hurts a deer- mirroring Jonathan's story about how Lonnie forced him to kill a rabbit and how this upset him as he was a fan of the rabbit character from the film bambi.. El when she first sees the demogorgan also sees it eating it’s own eggs-aka symbolically the father hurting his own children. Will's password for cb is rhadagast a wizard who protects Wildlife (the opposite of Hunter-lonnie/the demogorgan).

Duffers cited as inspo the silent hill videogames): And in s1 Hopper named dropped the character Alessa’s last name. “The bad guys faked Alessa’s death. Kaufmann prepared a substitute body of alessa; and performed the fake autopsy (like Will) . Alessa had precognition (future/intuition-like will the wise is said to have in s3) and pyrokinesis (firepowers mentioned Will the wise has in s1). Alessa’s latent psychic abilities are triggered and she shrouds Silent Hill in fog and an altered reality to prevent her ab*sive parent’s schemes from advancing. Many of the drastic changes that befall the town in the game, such as the horrific creatures that come to inhabit it, are conjured from her imagination and delusions. “

Will also says in s1ep1 he wants xmen 134-about the dark phoenix saga. ‘dark phoenix’ - has pyrokinesis ( fire powers-like Will the wise). And the dark phoenix also “was able to warp reality on a universal scale”. One of the phoenix’s host was even the god Thor (god of lightning-an element Will is associated with a lot in s2)

(in s1 Will also spit up a slug- in d&d putting a slug in a humanoid can create/turn that humanoid into a mf. foreshadowing Will being posessed/becoming the mf in s2. ).

S2)

Will plays digdug (a videogame about underground tunnels) so the mf creates tunnels. Will's dog dies so demogogans become demo-dogs. He also watches Ghostbusters- where a character is possessed by the ‘gate keeper’ and can control demon dogs. So this happens to Will too -similar to s1 with poltergeist .In s1 , Hopper even mentions the book Cujo about a violent dog, who is replaced by a new dog named ‘Willie’ (to allude to this).In s1 we see Mike holding a drawing of Will’s- where Will's wizard has lightning powers (coming from his hand). everytime Will uses tech in s1, the phones explode and lighting appears out of them- hopper makes a BBQ joke about the burned phones.later in s2 the mf has these same lightning abilities and the lab technician makes the same BBQ joke.Joyce even describes the tunnels of the mf/ that Will’s draws as “like lightning.” We also see the russians eviserated by lightning next season too.

A lab tech calls Will a wizard-and they monitor his brain waves, record him on video, just like they did to El .(when the mf first appears at Will’s house- the lab techs even notice ). The drawing of the mf is next to a baseball (Lonnie ref) and Will says it was a drawing for a story he wrote. In s2 Nancy describes the mindflayer (but she’s actually describing Will).“So this thing is like a brain that’s controlling everything.”Because it’s not the mindflayers’ brain - it’s Will’s brain controlling everything. ( a “hive mind” aka the mf/WILL share a brain ). Owens in s2e1 (BEFORE the mf possession) says Will's ‘anniversary affect’ would make him remember “tra*matic memories” and “OPEN the neurological flood GATES” (aka Will’s neurological GATES are the gates between the real world and upsidedown - which are connected to the mf).

Owens in s2e1 (after mentioning the “gates”) even says Will's ‘anniversary affect’ / “tr*umatic memories” would cause temporary “personality changes”for Will (the later mf possession) . I mean... Owens wasn’t entirely wrong was he? Will even feels the back of his neck in s2 and says it has to do with “memories” ...and in s3 feeling the back of his neck meant Will was sensing the mf. Similarly, before his possession-mr clarke mentions phineus gage who after an accident had a “complete change to his personality” (and the shot pans to Will).

Nancy even calls the mind flayer the “mind-flamer”- hinting at it’s connection to Will the wise who has fire powers). And Dustin says the mf “takes over minds with it’s highly developed psyionic abilities “ And to “summon an undead army... cause the mindflayer loves brains ” ( and in s3 the mf creates a undead army by taking over people’s brains). Hopper even says “So how do we kill this thing shoot it with fireballs ?” (which destroys the flesh-monster in s3) ”

S3)

Will (the “zombie boy”) writes a story about juju zombies after watching a film about zombies at starcourt in s3 - then the mf creates a undead army -which was also foreshadowed in s2 (and similar to Will’s s3 d&d story). We also see Will wrote this d&d story in front of "the thing" poster. So the mf creates a flesh monster resembling the creature in that film too. We also see someone get bit (el) like in Will's story and when his friends retcon his ending to be about “sacrificing themselves via explosion (Hopper).” Will just says “fine you win” (so it ends that way).Also, the shadow monster is now called the Mindflayer - and mimics the mf from d&d (both can control rats with their powers in the show/game).

Will in s2-3 grabs the back of his neck and he attributed it to “memories”, “dreams”, and sensing the mf. Will created castle byers after his dad left and he grabs the bat in cb which was next to the Will the wise drawing (similar to how the baseball was next to the mf drawing in s2) and destroys cb with said bat . Then Will touches his neck and admits the mf has returned. EVERY moment Will senses the mf can be loosely connected to Lonnie. Lonnie used to call him h*mophobic sl*rs so anytime he subconsciously thinks of his feelings towards Mike the mf appears-1st time it’s on one of their ‘movie dates’, 2nd time when Mike and El walk off together down the hill to make-out, 3rd time right after he smashed castle byers after Mike says “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, 4th time (after the fight with Mike) when Billy is yelling to open the door (a trigger) and confides in Mike, 5th time when Mike asks him to go away so he can talk to El in the hospital waiting area, and 6th time when Mike says he loves El. The 7th time is when Jonathan is fixing up a car -something Lonnie used to do.Lonnie fixes up cars as a hobby-showing his remodeled car to Jonathan in s1 . Will then senses the mf and grabs his neck-which he said are connected to old “memories”. max and Mike are silent until Jonathan says says “got it (the distributor)”. Then Mike screams for his older sibling. We also see in s1 Jonathan checked to see if Lonnie threw Will in his trunk- something the mf does to some of his victims in s3.

Dustin and susie sing “never ending story”- which is literally about a seemingly normal boy named Sebastian with a bowl cut (from a single parent home) subconsciously making a fantasy world being invaded by a dark force (representing the loss of hope/dreams) that only his imagination powers can fix . “make believe i’m everywhere ... what you dream will be...Rhymes that keep their secrets Will unfold behind the clouds.And there upon a rainbow Is the answer to a never ending story” . Cough-Will’s rainbow ship he CREATED.Both times the lyric plays “Rhymes that keep their secrets WILL “ ( it pans to Will).

The film also follows a false chosen one who everyone says is supposed to save fantasia- named Atreyu (el). Specifically, for that plotwist that Sebastian (Will) has to be the one to do so , not Atreyu (who sebastian subconsciously created). In the novel/film-Atreyu ( the child who was deemed the ‘chosen one) is knocked from Falkor’s back, and into the sea of possibilities. There he wakes on the shore of abandoned ruins.

“There Gmork (The Mindflayer) reveals himself, having been lying in wait.And then latches his jaws onto Atreyu’s leg.”

-Before the duet, Susie tells dusin she’s reading “ a wizard of earthsea” and says ged is about to save his world. The book is about a boy-wizard named Ged (Will) who casts a powerful spell, but the spell goes awry and instead he releases a shadow creature! The new Archmage, Gensher, describes the shadow as an ancient evil that wishes to possess Ged. But the ‘shadow’ turns out to be a representation of the darkest aspects of his personality. And the only way for the world to be saved is for the 2 to merge and for Ged to accept himself .

-Will says he’s a wizard ( writing on a music tape in s3 “will the wise-wizard mix’ and having his password for castle byers be ‘rhadaghast’- a lotr wizard). The way they describe d&d Wizards matches Will/mindflayer perfectly “Wizards are adepts and magicians who combine according to the type of their spells. Relying on the subtle weaves of magic that permeate the universe, wizards are able to create spells of explosive fire, sparking lightning, subtle deception, and gross mind control. Their magic summons monsters from other planes of existence, predicts the future, and turns defeated enemies into zombies. Their most powerful spells can transform one substance into another, summon meteors from the sky, and open portals to other worlds” (all these powers Will the wise/mf are implied to have)

- Stranger things d&d comic (published post s3) : Will creating a illusion army of monsters -as Will the wizard.

- stranger writers twitter reffed several movies which discuss artist/writer WILLiam Blake who helped make the art exhibit “worlds turned upsidedown”

possible reason for the flayed eating chemicals& fertilizer (in s3)

full link/credits here. Lonnie’s gf has a biker shirt from Harley davidson- with the eagle logo and their saying “live to ride’. Which would imply lonnie is also in such biker circles. Harley davidson in the 80s had dr*g gangs too (primarily m*th).

One reason m*th is so prevalent in rural areas is that it can be formulated, or “cooked,” by small producers and one of the ingredients is readily found on most farms – anhydrous AMMONIA fertilizer. Both farmers and chemical suppliers have experienced thefts of anhydrous particularly in the Midwest.“

WHICH REMINDS ME OF the FLAYED EATING FERTILIZER AND CHEMICALS IN S3 . Nancy even says farmers/chem suppliers are having fertilizer stolen! And she later thinks flayed tom was on drugs- “A mysterious case of the missing fertilizer- a Nancy Drew Mystery”. This is also in the same season one character (who looks a bit like Lonnie) is a biker is corrupting the town.

Will creating /basing the supernatural from suppressed memories -means it’s from a very young child’s perspective . young Will would equate people eating chemicals, ammonia fertilizer, and ammonia... to using those SAME chemicals to create m*th and then physically consuming them . Why we see mrs driscoll eating fertilizer & Billy drinking ammonia.

The reason the flayed started behaving differently is probably because in s2 Will was forcibly injected with a needle & woken up with ammonia by Hopper-jogging some of those old memories.

EVEN Nancy’s proof Tom is on dr*gs is a symptom of m*th use or withdrawl from it-excessive sweating (like all the flayed in s2-3). M*th causes hyperthermia (body is at a higher temp than usual)-so they like it cold!!!!! Even clammy hands that she mentioned is a symptom of m*th use. in children it can even cause seizures- like Will :(

And when m*th is made via fertilizer it first is made into a highly corrosive liquid which is sometimes green-like the Russian lab.“six pounds of toxic waste is created for every pound of m*th manufactured. The waste is often dumped on farms, in rivers and and is harmful to the environment.” Like all the chemical leaks relating to Hawkins lab/mf that affected the crops in s2/this pic of water in s3.

m*th was even called ‘bathroom crank’-which is sketchy given the bathtub is what mf fears and how the sensory deprivation tank is also called a ‘tub’ by el . Becky even said Brenner would get terry high and throw her in the tank/tub.

It also does take some chemisty knowledge to COVERT various substances (including fertilizer and other chemicals) to make m*th- which reminds me of the kids saying they can convert one substance into another (when explaining why the possessed are eating chemicals)- they say they’re making a new chemical “in themselves”

other hints

Will’s b day is march 22 . Which is when “fire burns most brightly” and his ‘birthday number is number 7′ (”it was a 7 the demogorgan it got me′) . The number 7 is specifically associated with “wisdom and psychic abilities”. His b day even adds up to 7 (3+2+2).His horoscope is also influenced by the shadow god-ketu (who is also associated with wisdom and psychic abilities too).

* There’s way more details/depth/ other st inspirations in my DID analyses -specifically pt 2. (where i discuss how the mf/upsidedown connects to the numbers/russians- and also specifially Will).But this is just a crash course about the flayed/upsideown/it’s creatures connect to Will.

People will dismiss all of this as just the Duffers liking to reference random things they like/ and foreshadow via d&d without any in universe reason. but I really think that’s a disappointing explanation/outcome. Especially the predictable cliche theory that the mf is just experiment #1. Not only is it boring, cliche, and predictable af- but it doesn’t line up as well with the mental health themes mentioned in ever season.Will created everything via tr*uma cause of his dad- and overcomes this: is not only a “twist” that will make rewatching more enjoyable given all the hints- it’s more narratively sound given how much the series touches on themes such as overcoming tra*ma, mental health, and problematic fathers. The #1/ex experiment=mf theory doesn’t explain why they made the supernatural connect to Will in this way . And with such a boring cliche ending it would quickly be forgotten like other big sci-fi/fantasy shows that quickly lost relevancy after being popular: like heros, g.o.t, etc.One makes the show cliche another makes it remembered for decades (ex: jacob’s ladder).

#will byers #stranger things #byler #byeler #stranger things theory #did theory

208 notes · View notes

magalidragon · 2 years

Text

I posted 1,843 times in 2021

724 posts created (39%)

1119 posts reblogged (61%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.5 posts.

I added 1,421 tags in 2021

#jonerys - 454 posts

#jonerys au - 210 posts

#my fics - 208 posts

#my moodboards - 150 posts

#jonerys fanfic - 94 posts

#ted lasso - 85 posts

#emilia clarke - 83 posts

#reply - 49 posts

#fic tease - 48 posts

#literal sunshine - 40 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#because avuncular relationships are fine i’m got canon and somehow we are also supposed to care about the twincest being okay!?

My Top Posts in 2021

invisible string | a Jonerys AU | fic teaser

The day had been about cleaning and starting fresh. “Starting over,” she mumbled, getting up and dumping the jersey into the box. She gathered up the other items, dropping them in. She’d get rid of it all. It would only make her sad. She grabbed one of the books—a mystery novel she hadn’t remembered even finishing—tossing it in, when an envelope fell from between the pages.

It slid on the hardwood floor, Drogon pouncing and clawing at the paper. “Gimme that,” she said, taking it from him. He jumped up and tried to bite the corner. She swatted him away, turning over the brittle, aged yellow paper. Scrawled on the front, in black ink, with familiar loops and curves, was her name.

Dany

“Oh gods,” she whispered. Her heart stopped again, plummeting into her stomach like a heavy rock thrown into a pond. It was his handwriting. He wrote her a letter. She felt along the edges of the envelope. Yes, it was certainly a letter, a simple folded piece of paper inside.

He wrote her a letter and he put it in a book and put that book in the box he’d left on her doorstep. A box she hadn’t opened, she’d thrown into another box to hide from view, and almost a decade later, finally discovered.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.

What could it say? What could he have had to say to her? It was probably nothing. Probably just saying ‘hey here’s your stuff, good riddance.’

But what if it wasn’t?

Dany forgot the box, the items she wanted to take downstairs, and stumbled off. She went straight to her kitchen and rummaged in the fridge, removing a bottle of wine and popping the cork. She swigged from it, gasping at the dry white burning her throat, before she fumbled for a glass in the sink and dumped some in, needing to hold the glass, something comfortable and reassuring.

She glanced at the envelope, on the counter beside her hand. The cats were staring at her again. “I can’t open that,” she said. I won’t open it.

The letter might as well have been screaming at her.

Dany gulped the wine, setting the glass down hard, clinking loud on her granite countertop. She snatched the letter and opened her freezer, shoving it inside between a bag of green beans and a carton of rocky road. She would forget it. She spun on her heel, wine bottle in one hand and glass in the other, storming to the living room and sank down on her couch, placing both on the coffee table in front of her.

She picked up her cell phone and instantly texted Missandei. S.O.S.

A moment later the phone rang, Missandei breathless. “What’s wrong? Do we need to bury a body, or should I help you kill someone?”

Dany finished off the glass and shakily poured more wine, rattling out: “I found a letter from Jon in my break-up box after eight years and it’s now in my freezer and I don’t know if I should open it up.”

A thousand miles away, the other end of the phone went silent. After a moment, Missandei chuckled softly. “Oh I was wondering when Jon Snow would come back into your life.”

“He’s not!”

“Hmm, we’ll see. Let me get a glass of wine. Do you have one?”

“I’m on my second glass.”

“Let me catch up.”

88 notes • Posted 2021-01-20 00:20:41 GMT

love in the eyes | a pandemic inspired Jonerys fluff AU

I mean, perhaps a year into this thing I’ve finally lost it? Who knows. This is just the same ole’ shit I write, fluffffff fluffy fluff. Awkward Jon. Sweet Dany. Some more fluff. And then we’re done, ha. Enjoy!

He shoved one of the airpods in, just as the woman in the window seat moved to set her cat under the seat in front of her. He could see it happening, the teetering of the iced coffee in her hand, the phone in her other, the heavy cat in its bag, and her other hand coming to adjust her mask strap.

With the reflexes honed from years of military training, he shot out his hand, grabbed the iced coffee before it spilled over her phone and then onto the cat, at the same time he snatched up her phone with his opposite hand, about to drop straight between the seats. Jon suspected as clean as planes were these days, the crack between seats was likely as filthy as usual.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

He rescued the coffee and phone, while she snatched up her cat from making an escape out of his bag. Cringing behind his mask, he wanted to scold her, but she was a grown woman and well, travel sucked before there was a pandemic. "Got him?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you so much ! Drogon, you naughty boy!" She shoved him into the bag, zipping it shut over him. A pitiful yowl sounded from within.

"Is there a problem?"

They both looked up at the flight attendant, whose nametag said Gilly. Gilly looked ready to be done with her day, but they still had an entire flight ahead. Jon shook his head. "Nope, got it."

"Ma'am, your animal needs to be under the seat in front of you and kept enclosed at all times."

"Yes, I'm so sorry," the silver-haired woman apologized, profuse. It was honest, he noted, hearing the regret in her soft vowels, the musical tone in her accent. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, glaring down at the cat bag, hissing at him, the cat still murmuring plaintively within. "You hush, you have been a dragon all night and morning and we have five more hours and then I'll let you out. Now shush." She opened a pocket in the side of the bag and slipped a treat of some sort into the carrier. The cat silenced, lulled by food.

He was still holding her iced coffee, now sweating through the plastic cup onto his hand. "He alright?" he wondered, eyeing the bag, which had begun to rustle a bit as the cat settled. "Can he breathe in there?"

"Do you honestly care?"

His brows lifted, taken aback by her snapping. "Well...aye."

She pressed her hands into her eyes. "I'm sorry! It's been seven hells of a day...night...I don't even know where I am anymore." She dropped her hands, gasping. "Fuck!"

To his surprise, she fumbled in a pocket on her other bag and removed wipes, cleaning off her hands, wiping down the seat around her, the tray, and the back of her phone. When she concluded, she removed a little baggie and set the wipes into them, before shoving it into the seat pocket in front of her. He blinked, still holding her things, and she finally turned back to him, taking them from him.

The plane in all this time had begun taxiing back from the gate and to the runway. He felt like the entire flight was over, just from the activity that had already occurred. Not to mention completely exhausted. The woman— Dany— slipped the straw under the mask, which he noted was not just multi-colored, but appeared to have dragons printed across it; he thought it was just swirls, but it looked like instead they were flying, bright pinks, teals, yellow, and purple. The straps were sparkly, but upon closer inspection, she had the actual straps around her ears and there was a chain necklace attached, draped around her neck.

Made sense, when she took off the mask, it would just bounce off.

But nope, he realized, looking, the straps were wrapped around buttons sewn into a headband, which was tied around her head, the main scattered braids and curls tumbling from it. It was actually very smart; her ears wouldn’t hurt after having the mask on for so long. Jon thought that was pretty clever, but he couldn't get away with such a thing. First of all, he was a dude, but second of all, the Westeros Military would never allow such a thing. They already hated that they had to wear masks anyway. Meant they needed to spend more money shelling out for the damn things.

He adjusted his, the strap rubbing against his beard, itching. Beside him, Dany chuckled. "Try wearing it for fifteen hours," she commiserated. "You'll really hate it."

"Thankfully it's only five," he said. And then another three hours to Winterfell, he sighed. Unfortunately his uncle, who was the Northern premier, was against an international airport anywhere near Winterfell, for it would disturb the historical nature of the city. Could be worse, he could have been heading straight back to base at the Wall.

"I've been in the air for almost ten," she sighed, turning to gaze out the window as they lined up for takeoff.

89 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 01:02:27 GMT

drabble 68 + 76?

Absolutely! These two prompts are obviously best for fluff but I went angst 🤭 I know WHAT!? This is a peek into a universe I planned to write earlier this year and I teased with a moodboard (it caused drama because someone thought I was ‘remixing” aka stealing two other Jonerys fics, because of course 🙄) but I plan to return to it soon. Enjoy!

just one word | 68. “He’s four years old!” & 76. “Daddy!”

They all told her not to worry. Everyone said kids were different, they were resilient, and they “marched to their own drum beats.” Most people said that. It seemed to be the default reply, when she expressed her fear and her worries over her son’s development. They were their own drummers, they had their own tunes, etcetera. Except if that were wholly true, then kids would be doing things at all manner of ages and development stages. They wouldn’t follow a trajectory.

It just seemed that Rhaego had always been a little bit behind. A happy, bright baby, and a happy, bright toddler, but…she knew that his father’s death had hit him hard, even if he was so little he would have no memory of him. It wasn’t like he even saw him frequently. It just…it did. She did her best, but she really didn’t want photos of her ex-husband around the house. There was a single one in his bedroom, on his dresser, and that was it.

Even adding in the turmoil in his young life, Dany knew something else was going on in her son’s head. Appointments, specialists, and here they were, a few months into a new therapist. ASD. Autism Spectrum Disorder. Asperger’s Syndrome. “Don’t worry about it,” the doctor told her. “He will talk when he’s ready to talk.”

“He’s four years old!” Children should be talking at four, she wanted to cry, but her son didn’t. He just…didn’t talk. Not a word. He would point and smile and nod and generally make some sounds, but beyond that…nothing.

She stood in the stables one cold evening, not ready to go in just yet, watching from the corner as he worked with Rhaego. It had been something of a miracle when he managed to get her son to approach her horses. He had alays been sos cared and it made sense. Horses were big, unpredictable, and the stables were sensory overload. Sounds, smells, and sensations that most people didn’t generally like, let alone a small boy on the spectrum.

When she’d called to him, telling him it was time to go back up to the main house, she hadn’t heard him walking towards her, his little boots scuffing on the hard packed dirt and stone flooring, dragging along his ratty, nasty blanket he never let go. She had followed the sound of a horse in the ring, wondering if one of the horses hadn’t been put up for the night, and saw them.

It broke her heart, but made it whole too.

Her son, so frightened of the animals she had fallen in love with, had made it her life’s mission to care for, sitting atop one of the oldest ponies, an amiable, bumbling Shetland named Havzi—Dothraki for cat—because he would fall asleep anywhere and follow people around like a cat when he was a baby.

The little boy sat in the saddle, clutching the pommel, and made no sound as her--- Trainer? Boyfriend? Partner? Love of her bloody life? It was hard to place his role these days-- walked them both in small circles in the ring. It was so quiet, just the hooves plodding along in the sandy dirt they used in the ring, she could hear him speaking.

His Northern burr was always so soothing, lulling her to sleep some nights as he told her stories or they talked of nothing. It rolled, low and steady, carrying on the one-sided conversation without any concern. “See Rhaego? He’s a good boy, just likes spending his days walking around in circles and eating all the grass up on the hills. Nothing to be scared about, he’s as gentle as a lamb.”

Tears pricekd the orners of her eyes and she covered her mouth with her palm, watching them. Rhaego was so calm, steady, and his gaze fixed straight ahead, but she could see his smile, curving on his silent lips. He just seemed…free. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat, watching them, transfixed.

It might have been hours; she did not move. When he finally stopped, he waited, holding onto the horse’s bridle, talking to Rhaego, calmly, gently, telling him that he was going to help him get down and to remember to thank Havzi for letting him ride him today, and that they would need to take him back to his stable and feed him and brush him. Rhaego nodded and didn’t cry or scream when he got off the little pony.

And she watched, awed, when he pet the pony and then sat down beside him, as Havzi shifted and moved to stand in front of him. They engaged in some exercises, just a few minutes of them, and then it was time to take him back, the three of them—the Northerner, the little boy, and the pony—left through one of the side entrances of the ring to the stables.

She hurried to join, rubbing her arms briskly and approached. “Hi guys,” she called, laughing and reaching her hands to Rhaego, upright so eh could see her palms. “Look at you! I saw you! You did so good!”

He ran towards her, grinning and flung his arms up around her. She squeezed him hard, hauling him up into her arms. He was so heavy; he was getting so big. She sniffed and laughed again, so he couldn’t sense her tears. They always caused him distress. “You’re such a brave, big boy. Did you learn a lot?” He nodded and continued to smile, gazing lovingly at the man approaching them.

“Hey.” He leaned down to brush his lips over hers. She returned the kiss, still smiling. He gazed at her with such love; she sometimes couldn’t believe she was on the receiving end of such a lok. His gray eyes twinkled and he nodded to Havzi. “I’m going to put him up. Rhaego? Are you going to help me?”

Rhaego nodded eagerly and she set him down, patting his back. “Go on, wait, wait, let me take your helmet…oh, okay nevermind.” He squealed, grabbing for the top of the helmet, rushing away, not wanting her to. She sighed and watched from the other side of the stable, when Rhaego helped with the tack.

A few minutes later, while Rhaego fed Havzi an apple, she turned towards her Jon. My Jon, she thought possessively, and pressed her palm to his heart, as he wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders. “He’s doing so well,” she marveled. “I remember when he would scream at the thought of coming to the stables…youv’e done wonders Jon.”

“You have, Daenerys, he’s your son.”

And yours too, she thought, because after almost a year together, Jon was the closest thing to a father that Rhaego had. Even her brother Rhaegar, who lived and worked with them, saw him every single day, had always been his uncle. There was never a confusion in her son’s eyes, but she knew he saw Jon as the father he didn’t have.

She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “He still isn’t talking,” she mumbled.

“He’ll talk when he has something to say. Talking is overrated.”

“Says the man who only speaks in monosyllables,” she teased. He had been silent when she’d hired him, so quiet, lost in his own world.

Jon grinned down at her, cocking his head. “I speak.”

“When you have something to say.”

“I love you. That’s something to say.”

She kissed him again, giggling. “I love you too.” Turning back towards the stall, she whistled to catch Rhaego’s attention. He glared at her, annoyed she distracted him from feeding Havzi. “Come on little cowboy you! Dinner time and it’s getting cold! How are you not cold?”

He shrugged and walked through the door, Jon closing it and latching it behind him. They all walked together from the stables up the winding path towards the main house at Dragonstone Ranch. Her gloveless fingers were freezing, trying to stay warm in the clutch of his hand in hers. Behind them, she heard Rhaego kicking at stray rocks and scuffing his feet. She stepped up into the house, calling out, “Rhaego, hurry up, we’re letting the hot air out.”

Jon took off his boots and shoved them in the cubby near the back door, in what was appropriately a mudroom. No boots in her house, that was the rule; gods only knew what was on the bottom of them. He spoke, as Rhaego brought up the rear, still goofing around by the stoop “You were really good today Rhaego. Tomorrow we’ll give Havzi a good brushing, maybe even wash his mane, does that sound like fun?”

“Daddy!”

It was just two syllables.

A shout.

A protest.

A name.

It was a word that all children said at some point in their lives. Usually Dada. Papa. Da. All manner of variations, but it was just a name.

Except.

Now.

It was joy. It was heartbreak. It was exclamation.

She gaped, unable to believe what she’d just heard, thinking she’d imagined it. “What did you just say?” she whispered, after an indetermined amount of time, staring at her son in the doorway, who was swaying side to side, not at all bothered. She dropped her boots on the floor with a clatter and fell to her knees inf ront of him, gripping his shoulders. “Rhaego? What did you just say?”

Rhaego turned his face to Jon and smiled, pointing at him. “Daddy.” He took a deep breath. “Daddy? Help me. I can’t get them.”

Every single word crystal clear. Complete sentences. The most beautiful sound she had ever heard, ranking only to the sound of his first cries as he entered the world. She swallowed back her sobs, letting go of him and falling to the side, watching as Jon said nothing, his face pale, and fingers trembling, helping Rhaego with his boots.

“Thank you,” he chirped, and ran off into the house.

Leaving them aghast in the mudroom.

She peered up at him, her fingers reaching for his blindly. “I…did he…did you…”

“Aye,” he gasped. He laughed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I…I can’t…Dany…”

They clutched each other, her face buried into his heart, sobbing. She released all the fear she’d been bottling up for four years, the worries she still had for him, but it was sheer relief. He was speaking. Talking.

He said ‘Daddy.’

She wiped at her eyes and hiccupped, whispering, “He called you Daddy. Jon…I…”

“He’s my son Dany.” He was firm. He cupped her chin, his thumb flicking tears away. He touched his forehead to hers, fierce, vowing. “He is my son.”

“He is,” she cried. They were a family. They had never talked about it specifically, but it was understood. She pushed her face back into his chest, clutching his hand, and he swayed in place with her in his arms as she cried in pure joy that the notion that everything would be alright.

92 notes • Posted 2021-07-20 00:11:22 GMT

Emilia Clarke in London, 2 May 2021

105 notes • Posted 2021-05-02 15:51:42 GMT

you are my sunshine | a Jonerys FluffxInfinity Drabble

Um….this was inspired my a post that I shared a few days ago somewhere on my dash. It’s just fluff. I needed to write it because my life is soooo stressful and I was sick to death yesterday with a Hell Trifecta of food poisoning, migraine and heatstroke 💀 Plus work. Enjoy!

When Daenerys woke up every morning and went to sleep every night, she did so as Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.

it was a title she had been born, fought, conquered and bled for. It was her reason for being.

And then there was the other name. The other title.

Muñnykeā

Mai

Mother

Muna

It was Muna, not the Queen, who crawled on the floor in her heavy skirts, stifling her giggle and attempting to school her face— futilely— into one of absolute seriousness.

The witch’s curse had not taken when it came to her Wolf King. Jon Snow was right. The witch was not a reliable source of information. He proved her wrong. It took about a year, not for a lack of trying, and she found herself with child. She was going to be a Muna.

The nine months of growing a babe had been exhausting, rewarding, and she savored every ache and pain and morning with her head in the chamber pot as the babe did its best to bring her to her knees. She refused.

Laboring in a snowstorm, for close to thirty hours, she gave birth to the most perfect creation the Known World had seen.

And it was the perfect creation who she surprised, popping up from the floor, her schooled face exploding into a bright smile, violet eyes expanding, sparkling like jewels, and she blew out her cheeks and shouted: "There you are!"

In the wooden seat atop the Chamber of the Painted Table, where Aegon had planned his conquest and she had planned hers, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms burst into bubbling giggles, waving his fat hands and wiggling in place. His face beamed, a bright light, as if the sun had relocated into the babe before her.

She grabbed hold of one of his waving feet, fat little pillows and soft as one too. His skin was pale velvet, chubby cheeks tinged rosy pink. His black hair curled at his ears and reminded her of silk, his eyes the same jeweled tone as hers. He was the perfect mix of them both, a true Targaryen. His fat foot kicked out again and she snagged the other one, holding them both up to her ears.

Loudly, she asked, "Who's there? Is that Aemon? Is this Aemon?"

He began to laugh, so loud and hard his belly shook, and she saw it before he even realized it was happening, head tossing back and shaking. It made her laugh, although she knew she'd have to clean up the mess, but he was so perfect and adorable and she loved him so much, it didn't matter.

Aemon kept laughing, when she did it again, kissing his feet, making loud chomping sounds. "You taste soooo good! Sooo yummy! Yummy Aemon! Gimme these feet, gimme these feet!"

What amounted to his breakfast a few hours ago came right back up, spitting out of his mouth as he kept laughing, unbothered at all that his tunic was wet, because when he paused, spit up still dribbling down his double chins, he began to laugh again, finding it uproariously hilarious that he'd been so entertained by his mother eating his feet and jumping from under the table that he'd thrown up all over himself.

He kept laughing, waving his hands, trying to snag one of her braids when she laughed, leaning forward to remove him from the chair. "Oh baby!" she exclaimed, taking the bottom of her skirt and wiping at his face, not caring at all that she was ruining her dress. She laughed again, when he squealed like a piglet, not of distress, but because she was picking him up.

She cradled him to her chest, carrying him to the basin of water on a stand near the corner of the chamber, lifting her skirts again to dip them in the water and began to clean him up.

He babbled, chubby hands trying to splash the water, and wiggling like a worm, feet shoving under her ribs. “Bah bah bah!” he chattered.

The water would not do enough and in another burst of giggles he threw up again. And laughed some more. She sighed.

“Aemon, I am afraid we need to do this in a rather undignified way,” she apologized, leaving the room and carting him down the corridor.

An Unsullied immediately followed behind her and Aemon made a face at him. If she looked very close she knew the corners of his eyes creased, maintaining full control but allowing a softness there at the sight of the future King.

By some mysterious power, Missandei appeared. “Oh no, Your Grace, can I help?” she asked, concerned.

“No, no it’s fine we had a bit too much enjoyment for the moment, but that’s perfectly alright, we will just clean up and go right back to having fun.” She kissed Aemon’s curls, humming to herself, Missandei sensing she was not needed and fading back to return to whatever she was doing before she appeared.

In Aemon’s room, she cleaned him up in the large basin for his baths, scrubbing his skin clean and pink. She kept humming, beginning to sing, softly under her breath. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…you make me happy…” her gaze darted through the open windows, to the gathering clouds, grinning at Aemon. “When skies are gray…my only sunshine…”

With clean clothing and linens, she placed him on the bed she sometimes slept in when he might have had a difficult night, when he was teething. She kissed his feet, singing again to him. “Who is there? Is this Aemon? Aemon’s feet! Soooo yummy!”

He laughed again, eyelids drooping, fighting sleep. He yawned, cheeks dumpling, smiling and closed his eyes, sighing, content. “My sunshine,” she breathed, dragging her finger over his curls, pushing them from his forehead. “Issa byka vēzos.”

My little sun.

He snuffled, wiggling in place and she stretched out beside him, ignoring any commitment she had, tracing his perfect lips and nose and face. “I spent,” she began, trying to smile, but finding tears overcoming her instead. “Thirty hours giving birth to you…nine months growing and keeping you safe inside me…and years…” She gasped, laughing. “Years and years wishing for you. Believing you would never happen.”

And you did, she thought, laughing again, nuzzling his sleeping face and squeezed his chubby foot. “And you throw up from laughing so hard…because I make silly sounds and kiss your feet.”

She rested her head beside his again, closing her eyes. Maybe she would take a nap too.

Until the bed shifted and she opened her eyes, peering up into the shimmery gray ones of her Wolf King. “Issa zokla,” she murmured.

“My queen,” he replied, kissing her forehead. He picked up Aemon’s foot, squeezing lightly. “He throw up from laughing so hard?”

“Yes,” she chuckled.

“Did that to me yesterday when I tried to get him to eat his midday meal and instead of trying to feed him I pretended to be Ghost eating it.” He rolled his eyes, but grinned wide, his eyes crinkled and gray irises bright. “I think everything is hilarious to him.” He paused, softening, and whispered. “That’s good. The world should be funny to him.”

Like it wasn’t for us, she deduced, nodding. She kissed Aemon’s foot and Jon kissed the other. The baby curled up, yawned, and his eyes flicked open, spotting them both. He grinned, kicking and flailing. “Ah! Ah!” he huffed, trying to reach them both.

She watched, amused, when Jon rolled into his back, bringing Aemon with him and pretended to eat his feet, sending Aemon into giggles. “Oh Jon,” she began, noticing Aemon’s belly bouncing. “Be…”

Aemon opened his mouth, spitting up, right onto Jon’s chest. And then he burst into laughter again.

“Careful,” she concluded.

Jon sighed and rolled off the bed to his feet, bouncing Aemon and singing off key. “My sunshine, my only sunshine…”

She smiled and closed her eyes, ignoring the knowledge that she had to get back to the decisions of the realm, preferring to listen to her husband’s terrible singing and her baby’s bubble laughs.

She deserved it, after all.

120 notes • Posted 2021-08-26 23:54:42 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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keltonwrites · 3 years

Text

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

#amwriting #newsletter #making friends #how to make new friends #adulthood #small town life

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happyreid187 · 3 years

Text

Privilege - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.1 K

A/N: Sad Spencer post nightmare comfort. Discovering and sharing feelings about each other. Mild angst then fluff. I wrote this after my season 8 rewatch but it’s not explicitly situated in any particular season.

Warnings: Brief mentions of Spence’s various trauma; case issues, mom issues, drug use, generalized dark and twistiness. Insecurity. Swearing. Single sentence implying reader grew up religious. References to sex but not actual smut.

____

With both of us working insane hours, we agreed early on to be casual, and then completely and entirely ignored that agreement in every way except verbiage. Avoiding labels and verbal expressions of affection, I pretended that it wasn’t emotional self destruction to spend every waking hour with this man who was notably not my boyfriend. With the amount of affection between us, it was easy to pretend it was something more. When we weren’t working, I essentially lived in his bed.

____

I was deep asleep when I heard him whimpering, waking to find him tossing and turning, breathing quickly. It took me a second to get my bearings, but when I did, I woke him as gently as I could

“Spencer! Spence.” His eyes shot open, and he immediately jumped, looked to me with his eyes welling up, and started shaking.

“Hey,” my voice was desperate as I wrapped my arms around him, “Baby, what’s the matter?” The pet name was generally reserved for other activities in this bed, but it felt appropriate now. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to calm him. “Was it about a case?”

“It was about...” he started. “No, I don’t want to freak you out!” He sort of tossed and turned again, now in my lap. “This isn’t your job, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He sounded angry; with himself, and the situation. I tried to ignore the feeling that’s he might be angry with me.

“Why would it freak me out? Your job is depressing as shit, Spence. This is kind of predictable. Talking through it with you? None of this is work for me. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you can.” I said, waiting for him to decide how to proceed.

He fiddled with his hands in that nervous way of his. “It was about you. First, you were breaking? Like glass on a windshield? Cracking but not falling apart. And everything around us was breaking; the phones and then the walls and then your face,” his voice broke then, “and then my own chest.”

Where the tears were only threatening to overflow before, he was really crying now, in a way I’d never seen him do before. In a way grown men rarely do in our terrible society if they can avoid it. In a way that made it hard for either of us to breathe. “But then it sort of mixed with work, and there was an unsub and he had you, and I couldn’t get to you. I tried, but I couldn’t get to you, and then...” he paused there, and I inferred the rest by his pained silence.

“You don’t have to keep going, I get it. And I’m not freaked out. I’m right here, Spencer. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you too. You are okay. You’re okay.” he didn’t say anything for a minute, and I rethought my words. “I’m not trying to belittle or silence you. I know you don’t feel okay. But you’re here with me, and no one’s broken, and you’re breathing, and I’m breathing, and you’re okay.”

“I’m not worried about me...” he grumbled, like it was obvious. Like I was wasting our time, worrying about him.

“Well I’m fine. I’m good. I’m happy to be here for you.”

He looked up at me doubtfully. “How can you be happy to be woken up at 4:02 am?”

Too sleepy to veil my feelings entirely, with words like adoration and devotion drifting through my head, I settled on saying, “It’s a privilege to have the chance to be here for you, and support you, and help you feel better. I have you, and you have me; okay? I’m here.”

“I’ve got you...” he softly echoed my words from earlier.

“You’ve got me.” I answered easily. It was a simple, honest fact to share.

There was a shift in him then. He pushed himself up with one arm, leaning back and staring at me, looking exasperated and vaguely frantic, like he just realized something was wrong. He looked almost angry as he asked “What the fuck are we doing?

I didn’t even know how to begin to answer that question. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m having nightmares about losing you, you’re like, taking over my subconscious, and renting all this space in my head, and then I wake up to find you here, in my bed, drying my tears and calling it a privilege! Like do you have to be so... I don’t know. Warm?” Well, that was a new one. I had never known that to be a bad thing, particularly with him. He flocked to my sentimentality like a moth to a flame.

He wasn’t done though. “I never intended to care about someone this much. It’s confusing for me. I know you have your catholic guilt, but you don’t have to martyr yourself for me. Dealing with my shit is emphatically not a blessing.” He took a deep breath and braced himself. He half smiled, half sobbed, and to be frank, he was freaking me the fuck out. “Unless you..” he trailed off. IQ of 187; an epic communicator, this one. I gave him a look that begged him to continue, holding my tongue as if he would break, like the dream, if I spoke. He sighed heavily, trying to catch his breath. I reached over hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to be touched, terrified of making it worse. Slowly, I wiped away the tears on both cheeks, willing him to look at me. He didn’t, choosing his lap instead.

I waited for him to continue. “I don’t have a lot of experience with fuck buddies,” he spit the last two words like they repulsed him, like they didn’t fit right on his tongue. Foreign words with uncertain and unsettling definitions. “...but I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this.”

“Feel like what?” Despite the tears and the heavy air that threatened to suffocate me, I felt a new feeling. Like I would maybe feel better soon. I silently begged him to speak faster, hoping he could somehow telepathically pick up on my anxiety as I hung on every word.

“A privilege. That’s just...” he paused again, shaking his head. I could feel my anxiety coursing through my veins in a bizarrely literal sense. I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, and I waited in suspense as he chose every word carefully. He then looked with me with the warmth I’d come to know, to expect, and to crave. “I know you’re a really tender person but why would you do this if we're just sleeping together?”

IQ of 187, this one.

After his lengthy monologue with its intensely painful pauses I cut straight to the point. “Are we?”

The sadness vanished from his face, leaving nothing in its place but wheels turning. No more damned pauses; I have to be brave now. “I’m not.”

“What?” I couldn’t figure out what to make of his expression. It wasn’t relief. Concern, maybe? Or disbelief? “Just sleeping with you that is. Does that make you upset?”

“No, no, y/n/n, it doesn’t make me upset.” his eyes meeting my face. I could feel that he was about to ramble, finally, and I was intensely grateful. “It depends on what you really want. It’s hard for me to believe that you actually want this.” he points at himself, like that explained his insecure thinking. Honestly, how dare he speak about my person in such a way, but now wasn’t the time to critique his criticism.

“You want to be woken up by nightmares after cases? To sleep alone while I’m gone? and when I’m around deal with my neurosis and awkwardness and rambling? and family drama? and drug cravings?” He dropped his eyes and his voice, “You could do so much better.”

We didn’t have time to even begin to unpack all of that. Not in the middle of the night, on the edge of everything we both want. I could write a novel explaining how he is in fact the very best I can imagine, but that would take time to convince him of. Time like years. Time like marriage.

Again trying to move this conversation to the conclusion I ached for just a bit faster, I answered directly, “Yes. I want that. I want you.” Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

I searched his face for some sort of happiness or disgust but received a blank stare and a look of bewilderment.

“I just want you. I’ve wanted you this whole time. I thought you would figure it out.” I laughed, and he smiled, a real smile that touched his hazel eyes that somehow sparkled in the dimly lit room, finally. “With fuck buddies, I don’t typically snuggle and go on museum dates or stop seeing other people or stick around for months.”

“You want me?” he smiled, but doubt loomed, and his smile fell as his long fingers traced my jaw.

“You say that now, but I think you’re going to find that I am a difficult person to love.” He said, as if I didn’t already know him. As if I didn’t already see him in all of his brilliance and darkness, all of his complexity and baggage. As if knowing him hadn’t been a precursor to loving him.

“Spencer, everyone thinks that about themselves.” I replied, greeted with still more disbelief. I continued in spite of him. “Besides,” I shrugged with a small smile, like my conclusion was entirely self evident, “It’s too late now.”

“What, you think that about yourself? First of all, you are unbelievably easy to love. The easiest in the whole world, probably. I know that that sounds hyperbolic, but I really mean it - I sincerely think that you are the single most lovable woman on the planet.” he rambled, talking with his hands and earning a tearful chuckle from me. “In my world at least. You are in fact, despite my best efforts, impossible not to...” he paused to physically shove the thought away, moving forward with a grimace.

“Second of all, what do you mean too late? I have a feeling I might know what you’re going to say. Please say it, y/n,” he whispered like that would make it less scary. “Or do you want me to say it? I don’t want to spook you but... it’s too late for what?”

“Too late to stop myself from loving you.”

Finally, finally a look of understanding graced his face. A look like he believed me. He smiled that stunning, whole face smile of his that was reserved for special occasions.

“Can you say the whole thing?”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too.”

He was only half sitting up anyways, so when I kissed him he fell to the bed, and protested immediately. “No! I’m so gross and snotty, stop.” I settled on peppering kisses on his neck and damp cheeks instead.

I laid my head on his chest, murmuring, “You can go back to sleep, and when you wake up, I’ll still be loving you, and I won’t be broken because of it, and I certainly won’t be gone.”

“Okay,” he responded, voice still broken, but no matter. He’ll heal. He’ll believe me more with time. Eyes heavy and stinging, my adrenaline eventually waned, and I was about to fall back asleep, when his voice pulled me back.

“Just to be completely clear, this is no longer a fuck buddy situation. Like, I'm your boyfriend. Right?”

“Was it ever really a fuck buddy situation?” I laughed “But if it was, it’s over. You are mine, Spencer Reid. If that wasn’t obvious.”

I could hear his smile in his voice “Sorry, it’s so late, and my brain isn’t really working and I just wanted to make absolutely sure.”

He paused for a few minutes.

“I’ll check back again in the morning.”

“I’ll still be here.”

~~~

In my half asleep state, his soft words barely registered. “Good morning, sweet girl. I’m so lucky to get to love you.”

“I love you too.” I mumbled, smiling without opening my eyes. There’s his confirmation. He’s always been one for collecting good data, I suppose.

“Please keep doing that.”

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aellynera · 3 years

Text

Beat the System (Poe Dameron x f!Reader; high school AU)

BEAT THE SYSTEM

My darling @autumnleaves1991-blog is doing a Writer Wednesday thing (click that link for details) and today’s challenge was:

...so I wrote this little thing. may or may not be based on things that might have somewhat happened during my years as a summer amusement park lackey.

Word Count: ~2100

Summary: You see a lot of people at your summer job, and you didn’t really want to see him or for him to see you, but that’s not how the system works.

Warnings: Female reader. High School AU. References to clowns. Complaining. Nothing else really, just a lot of fluff. As usual, mostly kind of proofread.

You kind of hated your summer job.

It wasn’t so much that you hated having to get a job in the first place, after your parents insisted that’s what you’d need to do if you wanted your own car. And the job itself was actually pretty easy, at least in theory.

The ring toss stand at the local amusement park was your domain. Your days were spent surrounded by giant stuffed elephants and aliens and teddy bears, taking money, handing out rings, watching people throw them at bottles. Ninety-nine percent of the time this also meant watching them lose. The losses generally led to another futile round of buying and tossing. And, invariably, cussing; never mind that this was a family establishment and there was a five-year-old standing three feet away from the offender.

No, it was the job on repeat for eight hours a day, five days out of the week. It was seeing all your friends come by and have fun while you literally had to watch them (but hey, at least you got paid.) It was having to work every single weekend. And it was all the people. People you’d known your whole life, people who lived in neighboring towns, busses full of people from who knows where that flocked to this place every single year.

And it was just weird to think of this place as a destination. It was just the amusement park that was there all your life, that your parents went to when they were in high school, and maybe their parents did too. This place was freaking old. But why people felt the need to come by the busload from hours away--

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.”

The voice broke through your ranting brain and you looked up to see a familiar face grinning back at you from the other side of the booth.

Poe Dameron was a senior. He was captain of both the football and the soccer team, treasurer of the student council, sang on the chorus, played bass in the jazz band, was in the drama club, and you were pretty sure there were at least a dozen other things he just did because he was good at everything.

He was also ridiculously hot and the last person you wanted to see you in your ridiculous, brightly colored work uniform. He stood before you looking like he just crawled off the cover of a romance novel, all tan skin and dark curls and defined muscles, and there you were with a high ponytail and baggy shorts and a shirt that would put a clown to shame.

Honestly, all you needed were the giant floppy shoes.

He was also there with a group of his rowdy, juvenile football friends, which only promised to make this hell even more scorching. At least for now, they seemed to be occupied with ogling the girl who ran the tilt-a-whirl across the path and completely ignoring you.

You scrunched your face at him. “Poe, I’ve seen you here like twenty times this summer. You’ve even played this game before. You know I work here.”

“Okay, you got me,” his grin didn’t falter. You weren’t sure, but it might have even gotten a little bigger. He handed over ten dollars. “A bucket of rings, please.”

Great, he was going to hang around. You glanced at your watch, and it solemnly informed you that your break wasn’t for another hour and half. So you were stuck there. In a virtual clown suit. With the hot senior you might have had a little crush on.

Not like you ever doodled his initials in your notebooks or on scraps of paper when the crowds at the stand died down. You denied all knowledge of these supposed incidents.

You could act like a normal person in his presence.

You sighed and took the money from him, handing him a bucket full of red plastic rings in return. “You know this game is rigged, right? They all are.”

“So I’ve heard.” He picked up his first ring. “But I am determined to beat the system.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you have to be good at everything?”

Poe shot you a quick side-eye before turning his attention back to the sea of bottles in front of him. He tossed the first ring and it flipped end over end before bouncing off a bottle top with a spectacular ding! His brow furrowed as he reached for another ring.

“Apparently not,” he muttered. “But I’ll still beat it. You see, there’s this girl I want to impress, and…” He tossed the second ring and watched it ricochet off another bottle top.

“Of course there is,” you snorted. “There’s probably a whole horde of them.”

He chuckled. “Nope, just one.”

You waved your arm in a grand gesture toward the playing field. “Well then, have at it, Romeo. You know the rules. No leaning over the rail, and you have to land five rings to win. Let me know when you need another bucket.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” he replied as he tossed yet another ring. You tried, you really really tried, to ignore the way the tip of his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated.

And so it went until the entire bucket full of rings littered the floor of the stall, with nary a single one landing on its intended target. You grabbed the sweeper and started pushing them back into the bins underneath the counter.

Poe growled in frustration. “Seriously?!” He waved another ten in your direction and you handed him another bucket, giggling as you made the exchange.

“I told you, it’s rigged. But…” you crooked a finger to motion him closer. And then tried to remember how breathing worked as he leaned in, now just inches from your face.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

The attempt to subtly clear your throat was only half successful.

“Well, I didn’t tell you this,” you pointed toward the bottles, “but the table is slightly higher on that side, and so is that one part in the middle. If you aim for those bottles, you can probably bounce the rings onto the lower ones.”

The grin he flashed almost blinded you. “Beat the system.”

“Beat the system,” you agreed.

You leaned back and watched. After the first six rings or so, Poe seemed to figure out which bottles to aim for and how to toss the ring (with a bit of spin, of course) and before you knew it, his fifth ring landed on the center bottle and he was shouting “yes!” with a little fist pump.

“I am impressed, Dameron,” you said, clapping. “I bet this girl will be too.”

“I hope so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Did he suddenly look kind of shy? No, that wasn’t Poe Dameron. He was the polar opposite of shy.

“Which one?” you asked, pointing to the prizes hanging above you.

“Which one would you pick? If you just beat the system and you were trying to impress someone?”

“Uhhh…” Why in the world was he asking you? It didn’t matter, this was his deal, you just worked there. And quite honestly, you probably wouldn’t pick any of these monstrosities. They were huge. And kind of weird looking. And neon colored.

After a few moments of confused contemplation, your eyes finally landed on a giant purple teddy bear, half hidden behind a chartreuse alien and an orange thing that was trying to impersonate an octopus. You pulled it down and handed it over.

“Here you go, the least weird thing you just spent twenty bucks on when you could have just gone to the mall and bought something more reasonable.”

“Nah, this is perfect,” Poe replied, grabbing the bear. It was nearly half as big as he was. You often wondered how anyone dragged them around the park for the rest of the day, much less managed to get them home. “Thanks for the advice.”

You couldn’t help the smirk that rose on your lips. “It was either that, or have to explain to my supervisor why you would have ended up hanging around until the park closed.”

He laughed loudly. “Rey would have understood. She’s cool like that.”

“Geez, you’re good at everything, do you know everyone in the entire galaxy too?”

Poe didn’t seem to hear you, though, as he looked over his shoulder and around the area, and you followed his gaze. His friends were nowhere to be seen and vaguely, you wondered when they’d wandered off and why they hadn’t very loudly announced it to him. He glanced back at you with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, I should go find the guys,” he said. “And let you get back to work.”

“Yeah, okay,” you replied. All of the easy-going rapport from the past however long Poe had been there suddenly evaporated and every ounce of awkwardness you normally felt around him returned. “I’ll see you.”

You might have been looking anywhere but at him, but you didn’t miss the small wave he gave you as he walked away, and you definitely felt the heat that rose in your cheeks.

Poe was quickly forgotten as a swarm of ten-year-olds rushed the stand and the incessant clanging of misthrown rings once again took over all your waking moments. You didn’t think about him for the rest of your shift. All you could think about was how tired you were, how hot the day had been, how much you wanted to shower and sleep and pretend you didn’t have to do this again tomorrow and--

Your feet ground to halt in the employee parking lot and approached your beloved car, the entire reason you had this forsaken job in the first place. Your car, which, you would have serious questions had you not known exactly where the thing came from, had a giant purple teddy bear sitting on the hood.

As you got closer, you could see something sticking out from beneath the bow tied around its neck. It was a slip of paper, with a phone number scrawled on it. And a little “P.” with a heart.

What was even happening right now.

Before you knew it, your phone was out of your purse and you were calling his number. Sure, you might have had to dial it four times because your nervous fingers kept pressing the wrong digits, but who was counting? And never mind that it was almost midnight. It was summer, he’d still be awake, right?

Finally you got it right, and the call picked up on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Hey,” you could picture the trademark Dameron grin behind it. And he sounded...relieved? “I’m really glad you called.”

“How did you get into the employee parking lot?”

“I didn’t. I asked Rey for a favor. I figured she might know which car was yours. Told you she’s cool like that.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess she really is.”

“So I do have a really important question for you. Well, two actually.”

“I’m listening,” you said. It was hard to hear anything over how hard your heart was thumping in your ears, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Question one. Can I take you out on a date?”

“Yeah,” you said again and closed your eyes, partly out of a need to center yourself and mostly out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe one day, you would remember how to speak to Poe Dameron in multiple word sentences, but right at this moment was not that time. Oh well.

“Awesome,” he breathed out. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Yes.” Thankfully he didn’t seem to be deterred by your current lack of language skills.

Poe laughed warmly. “Now, second question. Did it work?”

This time you couldn’t even come up with a verbal response. You just erupted in a bout of giggles, Poe Dameron laughing along with you. And somehow, you got that ridiculous monstrosity of a teddy bear into your back seat.

The somehows kept coming. Somehow you remembered how to use words. Somehow it was well after midnight now without either of you giving it permission to get that late. Somehow your phone refused to end the call. Somehow the hours were slipping by until you had to be at the park for an early opening shift in the morning, and somehow you suddenly didn’t care at all about getting any sleep.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad, after all.

~end~

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show’s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #tatooedlaura #laura sprys

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kira-7 · 3 years

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mAn i bloody love Musa and Riven. I loved their relationship in the show as a kid mostly because they weren't perfect. Whilst the other relationships were pretty much and they made me cringe far more, even as a kid. Though their relationship was a little toxic when they were both developed as characters they had a really good relationship. From what I heard about s8 they made Riven regress back to his old jealous stubborn self which is annoying seeing how much he developed as a character

Hi anon!

I love these two! They're my OTP 😍 I still remember exactly the moment I fell in love with them

Ok, maybe not exactly this moment 😅 but of course this episode, exactly when Riven came into the light with Musa in his arms 😍 from that moment on, I started to follow them, and rec every moment of their love story 😂

I love them, too, because they were more realistic than the other couples, both of Musa and Riven were stubborn, proud, they found hard to talk openly about their feelings (see when Musa denied to Stella, in season 1, that she had a crush on Riven), and easily irritable, just like Flora said in this other episode, from Season 2

In Italian, Flora said something like "Incredible, those two are identical!", and I still think that she was right.

Season 2 was something incredible for them, Jared, Musa's concert, the way Musa gained her charmix (trusting Riven), and the end! The EEEEND!

I squeaked in this exact moment, because in Italian Riven said (after "come back to me") "I love you!" FINALLY THIS STUBBORN AND PROUD GUY SAID WHAT HE REAL FEEEEEELT!!! YEEEEEEEESSSS!!! 🎊🎊🎊🎊 (ok, I have to calm down 😅 I can't, I become 14 again 😭😭😭😭), then Riven saved Musa from a Lord Darkar's attack, risking his life, their kiss, THE AAAAAANGSTTTTT! 😭😭😭😭 And when, after Bloom healed every one, Musa went away from Riven shily (awwww 😍 how cute! 😍), at the end, they happily danced

(and I really "thanked" Aisha/Layla for this moment 😁)

Then, there is season 3, and I think there is another beautiful moment, even if we started to see how much they argued, like in an episode where specialists teached winx how to drive a motorbike (I didn't remember its real name, sorryyyyy 😭)... But here's a thing that makes me think about...

On one hand, in Red Fountain, specialists, expecially Helia (a saint!) made Riven reason just saying to him that if this fuchsia head continued with his attitude, he would lost Musa! (literally: "Be a better person if you truly love her and we all know you do!")

Instead, at the other hand, Musa confided with Aisha her problems with Riven... Aisha was, of course, a good person, but at this moment, in my opinion, she was the least person to give Musa advises, because she was in a big problem herself, an incoming arranged marriage, with someone she didn't know and, most of all, she didn't love... If I remember well, that was the dialogue between Musa and Aisha:

M: "How can you be together with a person who doesn't understand/believe/trust you?"

A: "Simple, you aren't together!"

Like... What?!

I mean, don't misunderstand me, anon, please, I'm the first person who thinks that, if you are with such a person, it would be a good idea to leave them and search someone better, but I also think that it would be worth considering talking, trying to understand what went wrong and trying to be a better person (don't change yourself, just improve yourself, just like Helia said!)... Then, if things don't change, the couple decides to take two separate ways... But Aisha didn't consider this option, and so neither Musa did (I'm sure if there was Flora, for example, instead of Aisha, perhaps musa would have received that advice too, like Riven)

Then, Nabu arrived, the man in the wrong place at the wrong time... And we see Riven's jealousy, thanks to a little mistake that Flora innocently did: she took a video with her phone and rec Musa's back who stayed with this stranger. So, who can stay calm when you "see" your partner "kisses" someone else, while you're trying to be better? I'll be honest: personally, I can't, like, hell, "I'm trying to improve myself, here, and this handsome hunk wooing my girlfriend?"

Totally a misunderstanding, but a comprehensible one, in my opinion. Finally, after understand what real happened, those two stubborn ones are on the same page, Riven learnt to be more sweet (?) and less proud (?), and it's a really big improvement, remembering the guy he was in season 1! Musa, on the contrary, learnt that if two people doesn't get well in the first months, for example, it's over! Let's change! Next please!

I take into analysis the first movie, where there are two kisses between these two, one in Riven's memories, and the other really, after the specialist states that he understood what was worth fighting for, Musa, and awwww 😍😍😍😍

(can't find their kiss in the movie, unfortunately 😔)

From here, I believe, a slow but steady descent began: from the fourth season I remember Musa falling in love with Jeremy... Jason... I don't remember his name, the music producer, jealous Riven, other squabbles between the two of them, this time Nabu tries to make Riven reason (another saint!), and eventually making peace at the end...

From here I gave up on seeing the episodes completely, I followed the scenes dedicated to them on youtube: Musa gets jealous of a blonde, but it was all because Riven wanted to surprise Musa by dedicating her a song... The sixth was a tragedy, with the two of them leaving permanently because the specialist doesn't feel satisfied and cannot pay attention to Musa... Obviously, I have not seen the seventh (you can imagine why 😅)... The eight I know they did a big improvement as a couple, there's someone, here on tumblr, that tells everything in two episodes all dedicated to Musa and Riven's relationship 😍

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

At the end, was their relationship toxic? Yes and No? No, because if they decided to speak properly about their feelings, even with someone's help, they could work perfectly well together (just read what that person wrote about season 8, anon, you can find them on "Musa x Riven" tag here on tumblr); yes, because they received different advises... Both of parts have to work on themselves to be a healthy couple, according to me, not just one of them... Just my personal pov, you are free to say that I'm wrong: even if everyone in this world wants a wonderful relationship with someone, most of the time we have to improve ourselves, together, sometimes just accepting other's defects, sometimes helping them to work on their insecurities, to listen them, to be near them... In my opinion, Musa and Riven could give a strong message to children, they could teach that if both of you truly love each other just like the perfect couples do (like Bloom/Sky, Stella/Brandon, Flora/Helia, Tecna/Timmy, Aisha/Nabu (I don't take Lex because I don't know his character)) both of you have to work hard, together, don't stand firm in your beliefs, because that would be the most wrong thing. The writers, on the other hand, decided not to give the couple this chance... Alas, it could have been interesting...

I just hope, if the live action will do a second season or more, and they will make Musa/Riven real, they will fix this... I'm not sure they will do, but hope never dies 😁

I'm terribly sorry for the novel, anon 😅 I got carried away 😂 I'm sorry even if there could be typos here or there, I tried to write as perfectly as I could, but Idk how "perfect" it really is 😂😂😂

Thank you for the ask and have a good day 💖

#winx club #winx riven #Winx musa #musa x riven #MusaxRiven #Idk if anon follows me... So I tag this ask hoping they can see I answer them

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years

Text

Endless Love

Author’s Note: This is my piece I wrote for #SalDeLysFirstYear challenge. I poured a lot more into this than I realized I had in me, so hopefully it’s actually good lol. Thanks to @saldelys for allowing me to take part!

Prompt #3 Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more… Pairing: Ivar x Reader Words: 5796 Warnings: Angst, Swearing Ivar was back again. He had promised himself last time would be the final visit to the outdoor Cafe. The coffee was subpar, and he was fairly certain he could make a better lemon bar on a first attempt then the sour tart they were serving. It had been by mistake that he had happened to visit it at all. He had been outdoors enjoying the last days of summer, a day off from work, and the chance to get away from his brothers. Crossing the street, his intended destination had been to the train station, but he never got there.

On that day you had stood in his way. Not literally, but it was the look of you that had him all twisted. You were sitting alone at a table with your coffee, reading from a book like he had seen so many others had done before. The novel in question was ‘The Devil in the White City’, not exactly light reading, and not a story Ivar would have bothered himself to read. On the surface you were ordinary, but beneath his chest, his heart was sure you were anything but. Something had brought him to you, and there was a feeling of knowing you when he had yet to hear you speak.

He chose not to approach you. Growing up tethered to mother’s apron strings, and being labeled clever but strange, had made him a target by the other children. It’s difficult to grow out of that mindset, and as a result, he had turned into a bitter and lonely young man. No Ivar did not approach you. With none of the charisma or confidence of his brothers, he instead had swiveled to a spare table and had watched you behind a one-page menu.

Coming back to today, that’s what he was doing once again. Not every escapade was successful, and often he made the trip in vain when you didn’t show. You weren’t preoccupied with a book today, so he had to be careful as to not be caught gawking. Ivar had a penchant for photography, but it would have been a little presumptuous to you and everyone around if he started snapping in your direction. Instead, he had chosen the discreet, and shameful, way of turning the flash off on his phone camera snapshot. It wasn’t a quality photo, and he would delete it once this phase passed, but for the time being, it was a pleasant secret for his eyes only.

…

Ivar watched you as if you were the only one on the boat. Bjorn had returned from a raid, and you had gone with him and Hvitserk, your first raid as a shieldmaiden. He hated the idea that you were off in different lands, fulfilling your dreams as being Viking while he was left alone in Kattegat. Of course, he had never voiced this grievance to you. Your smile when you had told him the news had been so bright, and he wouldn’t be the reason for it to dim. The days without your company had been long and stagnant, and a chill had settled over Kattegat as if you had taken the warmth of the sun with you.

But you had returned, and things would be as they had always been. You were his friend, and he quietly admired you, longing for your love but accepting your friendship if it meant having you close.

You came to the Great Hall with Hvitserk, both sea-worn from your travels, but with smiles that spoke of the success of your adventures. Hvitserk was starved for food, and you began down the line with Ubbe, greeting each Ragnarsson with an embrace. Once you broke away from Sigurd, you made your way towards Ivar, and he almost shouted how glad he was to see you safe. Instead, he came off as aloof, summoning a small smirk as you knelt down before him. You always did. Unbothered by his typical greeting, you pulled him into a hug. Ivar squeezed back. If he could keep you beside him always, he would.

You began to pull away, and that’s when it happened. It was a gesture you only reserved specially for him, something that Ivar clung to in the hopes that it meant you loved him more than his brothers. You gave his left earlobe a small tug between two fingers, and you gazed into his eyes with a smile that made his heartache.

“Hello, Ivar.”

…

“I knew there was a reason you kept coming back here, and I knew it couldn’t be the coffee,” A voice sounded from behind him.

Ivar panicked. It was Hvitserk, and he had Ubbe with him. How had they found out about his little excursions? Yes, the three of them were roommates, but he was always careful to leave when they couldn’t notice. You were far enough away that you didn’t pick up on the commotion happening, and Ivar was quick to indicate to his brothers to sit. He threw them both a harsh glare, and he had this feeling of shame as if he had been caught doing something inappropriate.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

“We wanted to hang out with you today, but you were already gone when we got up,” Ubbe said.

“Good choice brother,” Hvitserk interrupted as he nodded in your direction. “Have you talked with her yet, or are you waiting until you’re the last two people on Earth?”

“Leave,” He ground out. They were ruining everything…even though he didn’t know what that meant. He hadn’t even approached you yet, and maybe he was embarrassed because Hvitserk had been able to guess that.

Ubbe craned his neck towards your table with a frown. “Who’s the old man with her?”

“What old man?” Ivar spun in his seat and saw that you had stood to embrace the older gentleman who had joined you. “I don’t know, a grandfather maybe?”

“Or maybe he’s her meal ticket,” Hvitserk said with a snicker. “She could be a gold digger, or maybe she’s got a thing for older men. Bad news for you Ivar, guess you aren’t her type.”

“Shut up, she’s not like that.” Okay, so maybe he didn’t know you enough (or at all) to say such a thing, but he was confident there was nothing sinister about you.

“How would you know, have you talked to her?” Ubbe asked, but more with concern than goading.

Ivar didn’t answer but mumbled something scathing under his breath. Why couldn’t they leave well enough alone? He was content in his routine to watch you. Eventually, he would move on and stop coming to the Cafe, but he had wanted to do that on his own terms.

“Time to find out. I’ll just ask the old guy,” Hvitserk said, rising from his seat. You had left the table for a moment, leaving your companion alone.

“No, don’t,” Ivar pleaded, but his brother was already out of reach. “Fuck.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ubbe asked when they were alone.

Ivar kept his eyes glued on Hvitserk as he chatted with the old man. What’s the worst that could happen? You could be what his brother had accused you of, or you could find out about his hobby of watching you and be disgusted. Any scenario that played in his head went from bad to worse, and Ivar was certain this would be his last time seeing you.

“You both have ruined everything.”

Ubbe rolled his eyes and sighed with exhaustion. “Ruined what? Was she supposed to pick up your interest by osmosis?”

“My interest was to take her photograph and maybe ask her to be a model for some shoots. I didn’t want to date her or anything,” Ivar defended. It was a lie, and a poor one at that judging by Ubbe’s doubtful frown.

“If you say so.”

Ivar turned his gaze back to Hvitserk, who was still engaged in conversation. You hadn’t returned to the table yet, but he didn’t want you to come back to find his brother chatting with your friend (hopefully grandfather). When Hvitserk finally stood, he shook the older fellow’s hand in parting and made his way back over to their table. Ivar didn’t like the impassive look on his face, he much preferred the goofy grin. Serious Hvitserk made his stomach clench with anxiety.

“Took you long enough,” Ivar said, gauging his reaction. “What happened?”

“Yeah, who’s the old guy,” said Ubbe.

Hvitserk leaned on his chair but did not take a seat. “I tried to put in a good word for you, brother, but the old man said she’s married to his grandson.”

“Shit,” Ubbe cursed.

Ivar sunk back into the stiff plastic of the chair, blinking with comprehension. So that was it. You were married. It seemed a cruel joke, or a curse, that someone else had met you first. He didn’t even know your name.

“Ivar,” Hvitserk called, waving his hand in front of his face. “Did you hear me?”

“I think I’m finished with my coffee,” He replied, ignoring the question. “Do you want to go do something?”

Ubbe frowned. “Do you?”

“Yes, something…anything. Let’s just go."

Ivar was grabbing his crutches and propelling himself out of his seat before either of them could get another word in. You had made it back to your table, and it was burning his eyes to look in your direction. He needed to get far away, even as his heart leaped to his throat. It was like losing a friend or someone who had been lost to him before. Ivar didn’t understand what he was feeling, all he knew was he wanted to run.

…

Ivar couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Down by the river, Ubbe and a handful of warriors were preparing to set sail back to Kattegat from York, and you were among them. The betrayal and the audacity of you had him seeing red. He could not let you leave.

Perhaps you thought you could escape unnoticed, but you did not keep your head down as Ubbe did. Ivar always noticed you, everywhere you went, and you would have never slipped away unseen.

”(Y/N),“ He demanded, reaching for you even as you had your arms full with supplies. "Where are you going?”

This time your eyes did not reach his, and you passed your armful of provisions to another warrior loading up the boat.

“I’m going home Ivar. I do not want to live in England anymore.”

“Neither do I, and I do plan on returning once we’ve taken our share. Stay, you cannot leave me.”

You crossed your arms, a frown contorting your face. “Yes I can, and I will. Your hatred and misery are leading down a path I refuse to be a part of. Claim your glory and your legacy if you must, but I won’t be a part of it.”

Ivar lashed out at you before he could stop himself, latching onto your arm with a bruising grip that made you draw a sharp breath. “If you leave me now, I will hate you forever.”

You struggled in his grasp, and Ivar let go once he realized he had harmed you. The indentations of his fingers on your flesh were red and ugly. “Then hate me if you must. Know that I will mourn the loss of our friendship, but if you can renounce me so easily, I wonder if I was mistaken for thinking it was real.”

“(Y/N), please,” He pleaded, voice wavering as childish tears began to fall. “I’m sorry.”

You started to back away, back into the company of Ubbe and the other deserters. “So am I.”

On that day Ivar watched you disappear into the horizon, parting as enemies. He wondered if you ever knew that he was in love with you, but he realized the answer didn’t matter. Either way, it would only bring him pain. You had left him, and you deserved his resentment.

…

It had been weeks since Ivar had last visited the Cafe. He made good on his promise to himself to not return, going out of his way to avoid it even if it meant pushing his legs to have to go to a further train station. His thoughts would sometimes drift and dwell on you, and he had yet to delete the blurred image of you from his phone. Baby steps.

His brothers had encouraged him to put himself out there in the world of dating. They mistook his poor reaction that day for loneliness, and after growing tired of their hassling, he had agreed to try. The handful that he went on were not all awful, though there was the matter of working around his legs. Some girls tried to overcompensate by complimenting everything else about him, while others couldn’t disguise the fact that they were looking at his crutches. He tried not to hold it against them. It was his hang-ups, not theirs.

He had taken the night off from his life of dating to go to the store. Hvitserk had Thora over, and Ubbe was out on a date, so he hadn’t exactly felt like third-wheeling. Mumbling some excuse about needing milk, he had slunk out the door and hit the streets just as the sun was setting.

Perusing the aisles, Ivar wandered aimlessly as he picked up items, only to put them back again. He already had the milk, his whole purpose for being there, but he didn’t want to go back to the apartment. There was a chance he’d walk in on a compromising moment between Hvitserk and Thora, and he wanted to save them all the embarrassment.

“Excuse me, can I get by?”

Ivar tilted his head towards the voice and was startled to find you standing there with him in the aisle. Gods were you a lovely sight. You were bundled in autumn gear, and you clung to a basket with the few groceries you had picked up. Ivar couldn’t help but notice the look of weariness on your face, your shoulders sagged with depletion as if you were carrying the weight of the world.

“Sorry, go ahead,” He mumbled as he shifted on his crutches so you could get through.

You didn’t immediately take the chance to go, instead, you stood with a puzzled expression that had him avoiding your eyes. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No,” He remarked too quickly, and it came off as defensive.

“Wait, I remember now,” You continued, a small smile lifting the corners of your lips. “You go to the same Cafe as me.”

Ivar sputtered as he tried to answer. You had noticed him. Did you catch him when he took your photo? Most likely not, or you probably would have avoided him; the weird guy with the lame legs from the Cafe.

“Oh, right.” 'Smooth, Ivar’, he could hear Hvitserk say in his head.

“I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“I’ve been busy.” It came off as terse, and he regretted using such a tone with you.

“Sorry, that was me being rude,” You replied, bouncing from one foot to another. “It’s none of my business. I should let you finish your shopping.”

You were quick to jostle past, nearly losing the contents of your basket as you went. Ivar didn’t like how skittish you had become, and if that was the last conversation he was to have with you, he didn’t want it to end that way.

“What’s your name?”

You spun back around on the heel of your brown suede boot. “I’m (Y/N),” You said as if anticipating the question.

“Ivar,” He returned in kind.

“It’s nice to meet you Ivar. Maybe I’ll see you around again. We can talk over crappy coffee or something.”

“Maybe.” Ivar smiled, and the warm-hearted feeling stayed with him long after he had returned home with the milk.

…

When Ivar saw you again, you were on opposing sides. You and Ubbe had sided with the treacherous Lagertha. Seeing you standing there with his mother’s murderer had him abandoning any kind feelings he had towards you, but seeing the man standing by your side made his heartbeat with rage. You were round in the middle from pregnancy, and the warrior who held you close must have been your husband.

You were no longer his, and you never had been. Seeing you now made that clear. He hated the power you still unknowingly had over him. If you came back to him now, even in your condition, he would let you. But he couldn’t keep on pretending that everything was alright. He would see Lagertha’s fate sealed by his hands, and you would not get in his way.

Hvitserk had remained loyal at his side, but Ivar could see his mask of resolve slipping the moment he spotted you and Ubbe.

“Having second thoughts?” He provoked.

Hvitserk straightened his back, and shot him a scowl, “No, but this feels wrong. We have family and friends on that side. What are we doing with Harald?”

“The usurper stands there as well. I’d align with Loki himself if it brought me my revenge.”

“And what about (Y/N)? She’s pregnant, don’t you care what happens to her?”

Ivar felt as if a shadow had passed over him, and when he looked at you across the field, you were staring back in despair. “(Y/N) doesn’t need me anymore. She has chosen the failing side, and it will cost her everything.”

Hvitserk let out a harsh laugh. “This is why she left you. You have a stone heart brother, and only Mother could love you.”

“I don’t need love, I need vengeance, and I will have it on Lagertha, Bjorn, Ubbe, (Y/N), and anyone else who stands in my way. Don’t make the same mistake, brother,” Ivar flared back, digging his crutches into the earth as he started back to his chariot.

Angry tears threatened to run down his face, and he wiped them away with a stubborn brush of his hand. It was difficult to hear anything above the whipping wind, but he could make out his heart beating at a furious pace. The pain he felt would recede, it always did. He had piled up all of the rejection and losses that life had brought him, but he never thought you would be among them. Today he looked his last upon you, for tomorrow would bring war and legacy.

…

Ivar couldn’t believe he had fallen back into the same rut. Any of the blind dates he had been set up on had come to a dead stop, and he was back to frequenting the Cafe. The worst part was he had been there enough times that he was starting to enjoy the taste of the weak coffee. He considered it progress that if you weren’t there when he arrived, he wouldn’t wait around for you to show.

On the day that you had been there, you had displayed genuine excitement to see him, and Ivar didn’t know how to handle such a reaction. He had to keep reminding himself that you were married, but every minute he spent in your presence continued to chip away at his resolve. You smelt like patchouli and lemon, and the way you spoke with your hands had him laughing. He couldn’t remember being around someone who was so unabashedly themselves, and he knew if he continued to see you, he wouldn’t stop. You gave him all sorts of bad ideas.

“It looks like rain,” You said, glancing up at the grey sky that was lousy with clouds.

“We could go somewhere else,” Ivar suggested out of the need to keep the afternoon going. He didn’t want to part from you yet. “Somewhere warm, and dry.”

“My apartment is close, we could go there.”

You said it with such innocence as if you had just been discussing the daily news. The proper respect to the implication behind such an invite had not been given. What kind of woman are you? His heart sank in disappointment.

“What about your husband,” He said, taking a terse step back to judge you.

You had the decency to look surprised, and you gave him a hard stare right back. “How do you know about Ben?”

Ivar flushed pink. In his quick anger, he forgot he’d have to explain that he had been watching you from afar for some time. “I…well…”

You interrupted his stammering, realization coming to you. “It wasn’t your brother asking after me that day, he was doing it for you.”

“You knew about that?”

“Wally told me when I got back to the table, but you guys were already clearing out. I didn’t see you again after that day until the market.”

“Yeah, well, you’re married, so I didn’t see the point,” He mumbled, looking away from you.

“I’m a widow, Ivar,” You said, and that quickly grabbed his attention. “I think you and I need to have a talk because you were looking at me just now as if I was the worst type of person, and I don’t like that.”

Ivar felt a flurry of emotions, but at the brunt of it all was guilt. He had practically called you a harlot in so many words, only to discover your husband was dead. He was lucky you didn’t kick his crutch out from under him and leave him on the cold ground.

The first drop of rain hit Ivar between the eyes, and you put a gentle gloved hand on his arm to get him moving again. You didn’t get far before the sky let go, and you were both trudging through puddles. The rain was making his grip on his crutches slick, and he struggled to keep up with your pace while also trying to avoid falling. He felt you slow down beside him, and he felt bad that you were getting soaked just because of him.

“Sorry,” He spoke in a soft manner.

“Don’t be. I’ve been going for walks in the rain for a while now. It’s the only way I can cry in public without people noticing.”

Ivar paused to study you, and that’s when he recognized the same look of sadness that you had worn that day in the market.

“Your husband passed away recently, didn’t he?”

“Just a few months, yeah,” You said while ducking into an alcove of a building. “This is me. Let’s head upstairs.”

Ivar nodded. He was relieved to be getting out of the rain, but a nervous sweat had him hot at the collar. You were about to reveal something personal to him, even when you didn’t owe him an explanation. He hadn’t meant to insert himself into your life in such a short time in a manner such as this, but he would listen to your story. In the end, he hoped he would be one step closer to being a part of your life.

…

On the shores of Kattegat laid the fallen. Bjorn had not been able to surmount Oleg’s forces, and Ivar had come out the victorious son of Ragnar. While the Rus celebrated in the Great Hall, Ivar had escaped outside to the familiar sites of his home. It had been in a different life when he had crawled through the sand. Now he stood tall on his crutches, weaving slowly through the dead. He was searching for his enemies, Bjorn and Harald, to see if their defeat had been decided.

The sun was sinking low, and without the light, it would be difficult to determine the identities of the dead. He pushed on overturned bodies with his crutch, sometimes remembering the faces from his past, while others were strangers. It was an empty victory. He was still under the thumb of Oleg, and he could not restore glory to his home until they were gone. That battle was yet to come.

“…Ivar?”

A weak voice called to him, carried by the wind. Ivar’s eyes flitted back and forth as he tried to find the source.

“Where are you,” He called, possibly to no one.

“I’m here.”

The voice was not as far away as he thought. He caught the motion of a limp hand waving through the stillness. Ivar made his way through the remnants of the battlefield until he came to the body perched up against a boulder. It was you. He had not recognized your call, most of it lost and weakened, much like your body. You were battered and bleeding, and with the mark of death soon upon you.

Ivar dropped to his knees and crawled to you. The moment he touched you, you fell into his arms. Your breathing was a series of harsh wheezes, and your eyelids fluttered.

“You found me,” You croaked out, holding your hand to the ax wound at your gut. A slow way to die.

“(Y/N),” Ivar whispered, brushing your hair from your forehead. You were sweating and cold to the touch. “Why were you here?”

“Kattegat is my home. I would never abandon it.”

“Where is your family? I need to get you to them,” He said, recalling that you would have a small child waiting for you.

“My family is dead, Ivar. I will go to them now, and be reunited in Valhalla.”

“Stupid woman. If you had just stayed with me, I could have protected you.” He didn’t just mean from this battle, but since you had left him in York. “I loved you.”

“I loved you as well, but I did not want your path to be mine,” You said and you reached for his ear, giving the lobe a small tug that caused his heart to burn in agony. “Perhaps the Gods will find a way for us to start again. When Thor cracks his hammer, and the storm fades, we will find each other again, Ivar the Boneless.”

“Don’t go, not yet.” Angry tears ran lines through the blood and mud on his face. There was no point in his pleading. You belonged to the Gods now.

“Odin is calling me,” You said, and your arm fell down at your side. “Please, Ivar, I do not want to die this way. My breath is leaving me too slowly, and every beat of my heart is as long as a life age. I want to go, but I am afraid.”

Your ramblings were turning incoherent, and he wondered if you could still see his face. Many of his tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but you had not flinched. Ivar knew what he had to do, but he did not know if he had the strength to ease your passing.

“Please.”

You were staring up at the sky, and Ivar felt invisible. His hand moved with precision, and he brought his knife down to the hilt through to your heart. A gasp escaped you, and then an endless stillness. You had a vacant expression of peace, and Ivar closed your eyes to rest.

When night came, he had managed without aid in loading your body onto a boat. It was just something he had to see done alone. Being away from you for so long, he had no mementos to send with you, save one. He had set upon you his hammer of Thor while remembering your words with the hope that it would see you to the halls of Valhalla. With one arrow your vessel was set ablaze in the twilight, and Ivar was up 'til dawn as you drifted passed the horizon, and beyond his sight. But you would never be beyond his heart, and time would bring you back to him. He would find you again, even if it took a thousand years.

…

Ivar followed you into your apartment, both dripping wet from the rain. He stood on your doormat, hair clinging to his neck as he balanced on his crutches. You kicked off your shoes before shrugging out of your coat.

“Let me grab you a towel,” You said, shooting him a quick smile before you ventured down the hallway.

Ivar stood unmoving while he tried to absorb everything around him. Was this your apartment, or had your husband lived here before what he assumed was an untimely death? There was a hint of eucalyptus and mint in the air, and other than the wet shoes and your abandoned coat, everything appeared to be in order.

He was saved from drowning in his own thoughts when you returned with a purple towel. Grateful to finally be dry, he took it from your outstretched hand, trading you for one of his crutches. He swayed only for a moment before finding his balance as he toweled off his damp hair.

“Need a hand?” Your timid voice broke through even as he had his head turned.

“I’m fine, thanks.” He managed to keep from being curt, knowing you weren’t asking out of pity.

“Well, at least come inside. I feel strange making you stand in my doorway.”

You started ahead, and Ivar followed. He noticed you had already dried your own hair, the ends frizzy and curling. Now in the comfort of your own home, you were without the bundled garments he always met you in, and beneath was a blue dress with black nylons. Stockings on a woman were enough to drive any man crazy, and he tried to keep his eyes trained forward. He was here to listen to your story, not ogle you like a schoolboy.

The rain outside had picked up strength and was pelting your window in swells. You switched on a table lamp, a dim warmth glowing in the room. Ivar felt some shame that his first instinct was to check for any framed photographs of your husband. He needed to confirm his existence, and maybe compare himself to the man you had loved and lost.

“Did you want anything to drink?” You interrupted his investigating, bringing his eyes back to you. You were lovely, standing there against the backdrop of the raging storm.

“I’m alright,” Ivar replied, anxious to get to the truth of the matter.

You took the towel that hung in his grasp at his side and brought it back to the side of his face that was still wet. Once you were satisfied, you gave his earlobe a small tug, and it sent his heart into a frenzy. Where did that come from?

“Good as new,” You said, a mesmerizing look glazing over your eyes.

“Thanks,” Ivar murmured, touching his ear.

You sighed as you parked yourself on the sofa, breaking the spell. “Sorry, I’m stalling. It’s just…it’s difficult to rehash a chapter I only just finished closing.”

“I don’t want to force you,” He explained, taking the other side of the sofa. “Maybe I should go.”

“No, I’m not letting you go back out in the rain. Besides, I owe you an explanation,” You paused a moment, gathering your strength before continuing. “Ben died from stage four pancreatic cancer this past spring. He wasn’t sick when we first got together, but he got his diagnosis only two months into our relationship. By the time he was diagnosed it had already metastasized, and the chemo was ineffective. When the doctor gave him a year to live, that’s when he proposed to me.”

Ivar felt his face sink into a frown as you told the story. Your husband had been dealt a bad hand, unjust and cruel. He suddenly felt ridiculous for even being jealous of a dead man. A great evil had been done to Ben, the work of forces unknown, and Ivar was a mix of elation and regret. He was strangely fortunate that the man was no longer in your life, and it was an awful thing to say, let alone think.

“How long into your relationship was that?”

“About five months. When I think back on it, I’m not even sure if our dating would have progressed to marriage naturally. Our dates went from restaurants to hospital appointments, but I never considered walking away even when Ben and his family all suggested it was a lot for a new relationship,” You said, bringing your legs up onto the couch, and you jumped when a thrash of thunder boomed outside. “I never thought of it that way though. When Ben proposed, he said it was because he wanted to experience being married before cancer took him. I’m not sure if either of us were in love, but we cared about one another, and at the time that was enough. The only thing I had to lose was Ben, which eventually I did. He didn’t even last the full year that the doctor had estimated.”

Ivar didn’t know what to say. 'I’m sorry’ was trite and cliche, and he was certain you had been told so enough. Though your voice wavered, you did not cry. He wanted to hold you close, but he didn’t have the courage to cross the invisible barrier that seemed to keep you trapped away from him.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m terrible for accusing you of wanting to be unfaithful. I guess I got so caught up in my own feelings, I didn’t consider yours,” He said, looking down at his lap.

He felt the sofa shift with your weight as you shuffled closer to him. “These feelings you have Ivar, I don’t understand. You don’t know me very well.”

“But I feel like I do,” He was quick to say, eyes flashing to you. It sounded absurd, and he flinched, preparing for your bad reaction.

“I know,” You said, blinking in surprise. “It’s strange, but you are so familiar to me. It’s like we’ve been here before.”

You reached out your hand, and Ivar snatched it up, not letting anything take away the moment in front of him. All of the doubts and the unfair restrictions that had kept you from him went away, and he pulled you close until you were in his arms. The apartment fell to silence, and the storm began to relent. Your head was nestled into his neck, warm little puffs of air tickling his skin. Ivar kept his nose pressed into your hair, breathing in your scent. He was reminded of fire, and of a ship sailing into the setting sun. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, but as you held each other through the fading thunder, Ivar was sure he had loved you once. Time had brought you back, and now that he had found you, he would never let go.

@peachyboneless @didiintheblog @saldelys @soleil-dor @zuxiezendler @pieces-by-me @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @everyartistwas-firstanamateur @youbloodymadgenius @xceafh @shannygoatgruff @tgrrose @1950schick @castielsangelsx

#SalDeLysFirstYear #history vikings #vikings #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x you #ivar x reader #ivar angst #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar fic #modern ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern ivar x you #ivar imagine

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//general dating headcannons//

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Akaashi Keiji

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2K (~630 a piece)

Notes: kdhfesdkfje catch me getting carried away on Kuroo’s ope 0-0

Bokuto Koutarou

My literal husband ;-;

He’s such a sweet boyf oml hi yes, where do I order one?

Bokuto 100% dates to marry. He’s not here for flings or anything like that, so your relationship will turn serious pretty fast.

Bo is a simp and no one can tell me otherwise, so when it comes to PDA? Oh, he’s C L I N G Y

He always wants to hold your hand or sometimes he’ll walk behind you and cling to your waist. It’s definitely super hard for both of you to walk, but it’s adorable and makes him happy, so you’re not really going to complain.

If you hug onto his arm? He’s going to melt, especially if you trail your fingers up and down his bicep

It’s the same when the two of you are in private. He likes to have contact with you whenever possible. He’ll lay your head in his lap if you’re both laying on the couch or he’ll sit you in his lap and place little kisses at the base of your neck, right above the collar of your shirt.

His clothes are your clothes. At this point, you wear his training jacket more than he does. Sweatshirts? Flannels? Shorts? That’s shared territory right there.

And my G O D does he love it. He already has to buy bigger clothes because he’s got those wide shoulders, so his clothes tend to either fit you perfectly or completely swallow you, there is no in between.

If you’re thicc too? He has 100% stolen your leggings, just to see the appeal of them. Please hide them, because oH he understands now.

He gets jealous jealous. As in, he will place himself between you and the guy trying to talk to you and he’ll act all big and tough. But the minute the other dude backs off? Baby boy is back, wanting hugs. He’ll kiss you all over your face and be really pouty, asking if you’re okay and telling you that he loves you ;-;

Bokuto hoots bye i don’t make the rules. Okay yeah i kinda do, but still.

It’s not like HOOOOOT, but like a really soft h o o and he probably kinda wiggles in his spot, real happy

Bo has N O control over how he sleeps. He’ll always start out really normal, like you’ll be tucked into his side or something, but by the time you guys wake up? S T A R F I S H he is on his face, limbs covering the whole bed, just snoring away

When he’s away for games, he’s always on the phone with you. Like, the guys will try to hang out or something and he’ll definitely go off to his room with a “Oh, I want to call Y/N before she goes to bed, but I’ll come by later!”

And then he just doesn’t because he’s the one who fell asleep, not you.

Compliments the shit out of you. You’re his hype man and he is yours. He’s constantly telling you that you look beautiful or if you send him a selfie, he’s absolutely sending back the simp emoji, asking how he got so lucky.

He calls you ‘babe’ but usually only when he wants your attention or if he’s in another room and needs something, so expects lots of “Baaaaaaaaaaabe”s to be headed your way.

Other times? He calls you by name. Because there’s a million people who get called babe or sweetheart, but your name is yours, so it feels special and kinda intimate to him? So, if he’s feeling a little extra sentimental, he’s going to bury his face in your neck and just whisper lots of quiet, “I love you, Y/N”s over and over again.

Kuroo Tetsurou

R O O S T E R H E A D A S S that I love very very much

He’s a complete dork and I know the fandom makes him to be some kind of smooth talking God I’m guilty of it too but-

He’s literally not. He fumbles over his words so much when he’s around you. You guys can be dating for years and he’ll still have his moments where he’s a stuttering mess in front of you.

Asking you out? You suffered second-hand embarrassment. His face was about as red as his jersey and the boy was so nervous, rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to look at you, but then just shyly raising his eyes to look at you and muttering,

“Do you maybe wanna go out sometime?”

INSTANTLY STARTS APOLOGIZING

“But- but only if you want, of course! Don’t feel like you have to say yes, I can take rejection! I’m so sorry. I probably made you really uncomfortable. You know what? You don’t have to answer. I’m just going to go.”

He’s so shook when you say yes, but then immediately puts his cool guy act back on, like “psshh of course you do.”

I don’t see him being super into PDA or physical contact period? There’s something really special about just being near each other to him. Just accidentally bumping shoulders or brushing hands while the two of you stroll, talking about anything and everything.

Even in private, there’s not a ton of physical contact. Maybe tangling legs together as you sit on opposite ends of the couch, but that’s really it. He likes being in close proximity with you, but he doesn’t need to be touching you at all times.

But he’s down to cuddle if you ask. He’ll let you lay on top of him and hide your face in his neck or his chest. Sometimes you guys will talk, but most of the time? Cuddle time = nap time

He doesn’t get super jealous, but he won’t hesitate to come stand behind you if some guy is trying to hit on you. Kuroo will probably just play with your hair or make some kind of comment about how that bracelet he bought you looks really nice on you. Just dropping subtle hints that you’re taken.

Afterwards, though, he just drops it. It doesn’t really bother him. He knows well enough that if you didn’t want to be with him, you would’ve broken up with him. He just wants to be there in case someone tries to make you uncomfortable.

Gamenightgamenightgamenight

I’m talking like board games. Hours and hours of just sitting at the kitchen table with a bunch of your guys’ friends, slowly ruining relationships, but overall having a good time.

Kuroo plays Dungeons and Dragons. I’ve said this SO many times and no one is going to tell me otherwise. So, if you show any interest in maybe wanting to play, or, better yet, if you already know how to play? He’s bringing you to A L L of the future sessions.

He’s probably going to write your character into his character’s backstory, so when Dungeon Master!Kenma scolds him for playing reckless in order to protect you, Kuroo can retort with, “Well, actually, if you paid attention when I was telling my backstory, you would know- *insert long-winded backstory of how your characters know each other and how his character vowed to your character’s dying father that he would protect you etc etc*”

Kuroo is super into domestic life with you, so you guys probably moved in together as soon as possible. As in, if you started dating in high school, you were sharing an apartment your first year of college.

He just has a lot of fun doing little household things with you, like cooking, cleaning, or just enjoying quiet evenings together after all of the work is done for the day.

Kuroo said “I love you” first, but it took you both forever to say it, because you were both kind of new to this dating thing and you had always been told that it was a really big deal, so you didn’t want to rush that.

;-; please take care of my dorky rooster

Akaashi Keiji

Akaashi is pretty easy-going in relationships, but he’s also super romantic.

As in, he has hand-written you love letters. He’s got really neat writing too, so that just adds to their appeal. Akaashi probably has a wax seal that he seals all of the envelopes with? I don’t know why, but he seems like the type of guy to have one.

You guys have a book club, just the two of you. Oh, it’s so cute. It started as the two of you forcing each other to read your favorite books, but then, you guys ran out of books to share? So, once a month, you guys will go to the local bookstore and just spend a good hour or two trying to decide what book to give the other next.

Akaashi 100% always recommends classic novels. Things like Sense & Sensibility, Fahrenheit 451, Lord of the Flies, and Brave New World am i saying that because that’s my favorite book? more likely than you’d think.

He’s a lot more prepared for these shopping escapades that you are. He usually knows exactly what he wants to get you. If they don’t have it? That’s fine. He has a list.

You on the other hand? You’re asking the clerks what they recommend, reading the back of every book that seems like something he might enjoy, but you usually resort to dystopian novels (Never Let Me Go, Gone, The Handmaid’s Tale, etc), because he likes analyzing the politics and seeing how they could be metaphors for today’s world.

Damn this really turned into me just recommending books huh

After you two pick out the selections for the month, you two coffee hop. So, each month, you try a new cafe and you will spend hours just sipping coffee and reading.

He gave you a first edition copy of the first book that you recommended to him for your anniversary one year. Akaashi wrote you a letter, telling you how happy he was to have spent so much time with you and that he can’t wait to share more books with you and probably some really poetic stuff, because he’s a good writer, but he hid it in your favorite part, so you don’t get to read it right away.

Okay, now that I got that out of my head. Like Kuroo, Akaashi isn’t super into PDA, but he does like to hold your hand. He also always offers to carry your bag.

Akaashi likes to fidget with your fingers. The two of you could be out or just hanging at home, but he’s playing with your fingers. It’s just a habit for him. He used to fidget with his own hands a lot, but now he’s got yours, so not only does he get to keep his hands busy, he gets to hold onto your hand

He doesn’t get jealous. Or at least, you don’t think so. He’s really good at hiding any sense of envy he might feel. He doesn’t say anything. He knows that you can take care of yourself, but he’s likely right there next to you, possibly playing with your fingers behind your back.

It’s a really chill relationship dynamic for the most part. You two could be dating for a week and it’ll already feel like you’ve been together for years. You guys just vibe really well, so there was never that awkward stage at the beginning of the relationship. Likely because the two of you started off as friends, so slipping into dating wasn’t a very hard transition.

Akaashi isn’t one to say “I love you” a lot, but he really does love you more than anything. He likes to take care of you and he tries to give you the best life possible and that says I love you more than any words ever could.

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mcfiddlestan · 3 years

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Fic Writer Questions

I'm bored and this was in a note on my phone from forever ago, so I must have been tagged at some point. Apologies to whoever tagged me. 🥴

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

52. Though, I used to have a few more. I deleted a few fics some years ago bc I hated that they were just sitting there unfinished. I was going through a particularly brutal bout of writer's block that affected both my fic writing and my RP writing.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

720,782. And I was stressing about a 30-page thesis. 😂 (which ended up being over 15,000 words)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I started writing fic in 2000 with *NSYNC, Christina Aguilera, and Backstreet Boys fics. I stopped writing a bit around 2004-2007 (because of a stupid boy) and picked it up again in 2012 after reading some awesome Cherik fics and wanting to write my own FrostIron College AU when I read one that was good, but kind of disturbing. I think I write for one fandom -- Marvel -- but, like different factions of it. FrostIron and WinterFrost mostly, with a dash of Stucky, ThunderFrost, DashingFrost, and WinterIron.

4) What are your Top 5 fics by kudos?

Black Light Special (WinterFrost) - 628 kudos

Can I Bum A Ride? (WinterFrost) - 425 kudos

Empire State of Mind (FrostIrom) - 420 kudos

Dark Side (FrostIron) - 398 kudos

A Worthy Collection (FrostIron) - 309 kudos

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I really do make an effort to respond to every single comment, even the not-so-nice ones. I want people to know I've seen and read the comment they took the time to post, so even if I just thank them for reading and commenting, I respond.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Considering it features two -- count 'em, two! -- major character deaths, it's definitely Empire State of Mind. Though, I'd argue Dark Side is a pretty close second.

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Probably Ghosts That We Knew. It was the final fic in the trilogy that is the Picture Perfect Series. It follows Loki and Tony from when they meet in college and ends 30+ years later.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

No, not really. And I rarely, if ever, read them. There's no real reason behind it other than I've just never come upon one and thought "ooh I need to read that."

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I got a lot of hateful messages after I completed Empire State of Mind. People were really angry at me for killing off two major characters. I mean, a lot of the messages were "omg I hate you but I loved this!" kind of vibe. But there were a few that cussed me out and called me names for writing it.

I had some chapters of a Fools Rush In FrostIron AU posted a while ago, in which Loki was a female, the only daughter in both the Odinson and Laufeyson families. Following the storyline of the Matthew Perry/Salma Hayek movie, Loki meets Tony Stark in a bar and gets pregnant from a one night stand. Anyway, I got a lot of messages telling me that Odin's misogyny and mistreatment of Loki was unrealistic -- even though I had literally modeled his behavior after the movie that inspired it. 🤷🏽

I have some prompts done for the 100 Ways to Say ILY writer's block challenge and for one of them, I borrowed the storyline from an episode of Will & Grace when Will's father dies of a heart attack after they have a bad argument where his father basically admits he wished Will wasn't gay so he could have had an easier life. In the epsiode, the fight starts because Will's parents gift his baby blanket to Grace, who is pregnant with her ex-husband's child. Will takes offense, they don't understand why bc he never mentioned wanting children, and a fight ensues. Similarly, in my fic, Frigga and Odin offer a pregnant Natasha (his BFF) Loki's blanket. Some readers did not like this and did not understand why I would write it. In another prompt, one that was literally how my last relationship ended, got some harsh critiques. Those ones hurt especially bc it was such a personal experience I wrote about.

And I actually got into a fight -- like a screaming match -- IRL with my best friend's boyfriend at the time. One of my bestie's friends asked about my fanfiction and I gave them the gist of one of my stories where Loki has a brief relationship with Sif that results in a child and later reconnects with Tony. Later on, Sif offers to be a surrogate for Tony and Loki and eventually births three more children for them. Bestie's boyfriend could not fathom why a woman would purposely get herself impregnated and then give the child away. I tried to explain that this was a thing that a lot of women did IRL -- and some don't even use their own eggs, but the eggs of a woman who cannot conceive; Sif used her own eggs so that all four children were half related (two by Loki, two by Tony). But he just did not believe me and told me I must not be a very good writer. Worst night of my life.

10) Do you write smut?

I was just telling @teadrinkingwolfgirl the other night how when I first started writing fic I did not write sex scenes. It was always inferred or glossed over. When I started writing again in 2012, for FrostIron, it was my first time writing more detailed sex. I cite Jackie Collins as my smut-writing mentor. I've written almost exclusively M/M smut.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Which is like the best thing ever! A couple of my older fics have been translated to Russian. I have one *NSYNC fic that was made into an audio fic. And someone recently messaged me on ff*net to ask to translate as many of my fics as they can to Spanish. :D

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not technically. I've gotten a lot of prompts and ideas from friends and mutuals, and I started reformatting my WinterFrost RP with my ex from 2014-2015 into novel form a while ago. That's tecnically the only thing I've written with someone else and published.

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

I have two that will always, ALWAYS, have my heart and attention. FrostIron (Tony Stark/Loki) and WinterFrost (Bucky Barnes/Loki). They are the two ships that I write the most, read the most, and seek out fanart for the most.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Probably The Flame. It's a fic that starts out ThunderFrost (not related; Asgardian Prince Thor semi-rescues an imprisoned Jotun Prince Loki) but eventually ends up FrostIron. It's the only fic I've ever written that features Loki with both male and female biology. I have a few chapters done but I haven't worked on it in years.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I write realistic relationships. And I think my dialogue is also realistic and easy to grasp. And I put a lot of humor in between all the angst and hurt.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I get too detailed with background. I just reread my Picture Perfect series (which I do like once a year), and there are literal paragraphs of background that in Google Docs is like pages and pages. But I want to make sure people understand my characters! LOL

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm a big fan of it. I featured a lot of Norwegian in the Picture Perfect series. And French. I think as long as it flows with the storytelling and it's not forced on the characters it can be really cool. It should be natural. I always leave a translation list at the end of the chapter or explain in-text what was said. Which I think most authors I've read do.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Backstreet Boys. LOL. Don't judge. I started writing my own fics after discovering BSB fanfiction written by an author named Mistress Lynz. She wrote a lot of fics about bloodletting, but I really enjoyed the fics where the guys were hooking up with each other behind the scenes, LOL explains why I write mostly M/M now. 😂

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

They're kind of like my babies so at different times different ones are my faves. But if I really had to pick one, I would say Stay With Me is my favorite. I got some of the most amazing comments on this story from people that found meaning and themes in the story that I didn't even realize I'd put in there. It was one of my first WinterFrost fics I'd posted and the response was more than I could have asked for.

And now I have to tag people! @teadrinkingwolfgirl @incredifishface @incubigirl @rabentochter @marvelswinterfrost and whoever else feels up to it.

xoxo

#fic writer meme #fic writer questions #all my fics #my writing #frostiron #winterfrost #stucky #thunderfrost #winteriron #dashingfrost

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roguerogerss · 4 years

Note

Hi babe! I saw you wanted some requests so here I am! Could you do a Bucky x reader where the reader has secret telekinesis abilities (or whatever Wanda can do lmao) and is forced to use them on a mission. Bucky is just in shock bc his secret crush is a even more of a badass, so when he compliments her powers, she gets flustered and disagrees bc they’re dangerous, so Bucky helps her see the beauty in them? Tysm ❤️❤️

His Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

W/C: 3.9k (eek sorry!)

Warnings: Language (??), that's literally it.

(A/N: This one got away from me a little and I wrote wayyy more than anticipated. I hope u like it though? Idk. I had so much fun with this request, thank u sm bb! Praying that someone reads this, even though it's a whole ass novel.)

————

"Bucky, where are you? We have a minute and eight seconds until this place blows."

Y/N was worried, and, upon hearing her frantic voice in his intercoms, Bucky was too. He was aware that he didn't have long until the bomb detonated, but unaware of just how short that amount of time was. He was caught up in a fight, one that was frustrating in the way that he couldn't shake this guy. "Yeah, be there in five?"

He was being sarcastic, he must've been being sarcastic, Y/N shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, agitated. "Five what? Five seconds? Minutes? Bucky, I have to ask, are you insane?"

She seemed angry - no, she was most definitely angry - and Bucky silently cursed himself and allowed the Hydra agent to get a hit in, he thought he probably deserved it. "Look, I'll get out. Is there anything you guys can do to buy me some more time?"

Tony had chimed in by this point, telling Bucky that he was 'fucking crazy', ranting and raving to the heavens above about how the entire motive had been messed up and they might as well have stayed home. Y/N knew that she could help him, but that would mean using them - she didn't like to call them by the name that most would use - and she wasn't sure if it was really worth the risk. Bucky would get out, right? He'd work something out.

But time was ticking on, fifty-nine seconds now, and she was unsure of just how right that assumption was. She wasn't even entirely sure that she still had her powers, since she'd avoided using them or telling anyone that they existed since she'd escaped from the grasp of Hydra. Even as she doubted her abilities, she found herself rising from her seat behind the control panels of the Quinjet, next to Steve, and sprinting to the exit to the aircraft.

"Y/N, where are you going?" Steve asked, getting up and following her. The rest of the team were staring now, Natasha and Tony also standing from their places and looking expectantly in Y/N's direction.

"I have something that'll help. Something that you guys don't know about." She said sheepishly, slamming her palm down on the button that opened the exit hatch. "Don't worry, I've got this."

Even though she was promising her friends that everything would be okay, they seemingly didn't believe her, as all five of the other Avengers on the ship - Tony, Nat, Steve, Sam and Thor - followed her out onto the streets of Bucharest, where the public was in awe at the huge, futuristic ship that was sat in the middle of a narrow, cobbled street. Natasha had told them to go home, she'd made the best effort she could to make sure that everyone was safe. However, no one had listened, and so she desperately ushered them away from the place that she knew would soon be rubble, while Y/N ran in search for Bucky.

They had what they'd came for, but that didn't mean that there were no Hydra agents willing to get into altercations with the team. Thor and Steve were frantically fighting off a pack of them, while Tony and Sam helped Y/N, hopefully getting a better view of the streets and where Bucky might be. "Hey, Y/N, I got him. Turn right, next street over. You'll see him." Sam spoke into the intercoms. Y/N thanked him, hurrying off in search of the super-soldier to whom she'd taken more than a liking to over the few months that he'd been fighting with them.

"Buck, I'm on my way, you better be ready to get the fuck out of here." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered why Y/N, of all people, was the one who was coming to save him. He had to admit, he was more embarrassed than anything else, needing the help of the one girl who he'd felt anything for in seventy years. But he tried to brush it off, mostly because he had to focus on not letting a Hydra agent rip his arm off, and answered her.

"What are you gonna do? If I can't fight him off, no offence, but what makes you think you'll be able to?" Bucky sounded breathless, and she could hear the obvious sounds of strain and struggle as he continued to tussle with the agent. Y/N took a deep breath and turned the corner, close enough to hear the ominous beeping of the explosive device that a Hydra agent had planted there in hopes of causing harm to one of the Avengers.

"You know what, maybe don't question it. I have my own doubts, but it certainly doesn't help that you have them too."

The agent, who was currently deep in a brawl with Bucky, noticed Y/N, but all that she was able to think about was the amount of time that was left on the clock. She asked FRIDAY, and a rush of adrenaline and fear coursed through her when she realised that they weren't going to get out in time.

Ten, nine, eight, seven,

Y/N drew her gun and shot the Hydra agent, not missing as usual, and Bucky snorted. "Couldn't have done that earlier?"

Four, three, two,

She knew that this was it. It was either expose the world to her powers, probably be deemed as a weapon and certainly become even more wanted by Hydra, or die, and let her friends die too. She took a deep breath and felt the horribly familiar surge of - what was it, electricity? She wasn't actually sure - coursing through her body, and watched as Bucky ogled at the purple wisps of magic that extended from her hands and the way that her irises seemed to ignite.

One.

Bucky ducked and shielded his face, but looked up again when he didn't hear, nor feel anything that would signal an explosion had happened. Y/N had it under control, holding the bomb together with just her fingertips. She'd thought that it wouldn't happen, that her abilities would've simply subsided into nothingness due to being unused for so long, but she was wrong. She'd done it, and there was no going back now.

And then? The small explosion turned huge, and lurched forwards, setting a civilian apartment building completely alight. Y/N stood, watching, mouth wide open and quite unable to understand the circumstances of what the hell just happened. Bucky was at her side, a hand on her shoulder as he, too, watched the destruction take place. The rest of the team had rushed straight there, each one of them with hands over agape mouths while Steve called for Fire and Rescue and Tony wondered aloud, 'What the fuck is going on?'

Y/N found herself on her knees. She could see and hear Bucky in front of her, worry in his eyes as a few tears dripped from her chin onto her chest, but she didn't have it in her to decipher what his words meant, they all just sounded muffled and like he was speaking a language that she didn't understand.

She didn't know what she'd done, how bad it was, but she could hear the screams of the residents of the building, she could feel them vibrating through her body and ringing in her ears, and that was enough to convince her that her enhancements truly were the worst thing about her, that she really was the weapon that Hydra had deliberately mutated her to be.

--------

It had been hours. How many, Y/N was unsure, but a considerable amount of time had passed since they'd gotten home. The flight back from Bucharest had consisted of Y/N locking herself in a cabin, and the rest of the people on the Quinjet taking it in turns to try to speak to her, to try to understand.

No one, apart from Bucky, (who only had a vague idea), knew what had happened. There wasn't a single person on the jet who could fully understand it, Y/N included.

She was now sat on a sofa in the lounge, chewing off parts of her nails while everyone murmured and tiptoed around her. Tony was speaking quickly on the phone and glancing at her every couple of seconds, Steve was pacing back and forth along the length of the room.

Y/N wondered for a minute what would happen. Would she be arrested? Would something like the accords happen again? Was she about to become the cause of another civil war? Would Tony disown her? Send her back to Hydra? She didn't know. She didn't think she wanted to know.

Wanda and Natasha had come to comfort Y/N at first, sat with her and braided her hair like they did often, and it was nice to think that Wanda knew exactly what she was going through.

However, she'd told them that she wanted to be alone, and they'd dispersed and were sitting quietly in two separate armchairs, watching a movie with Sam. The truth was, she didn't really want to be alone. She wanted Bucky. She didn't quite know why, but she'd always felt calm around him, which was one of the reasons why she'd taken such a shine to him, and she made it very clear to herself that she was at least a little bit in love with Bucky, in a way that was less platonic and more romantic.

She couldn't lie and say that she was happy with the way that he'd handled things, though. As soon as the jet landed, he mumbled something about taking a shower and hurried off to his room, like he couldn't stand to be around her for any longer, like he was afraid of her.

And, honestly? She wouldn't be surprised if he was.

The truth, of course, wasn't that Bucky didn't want to see her, it wasn't that he was afraid of her, it was that she was evidently upset. It was tearing him apart to have to see her like that. He felt like he was obligated to be alone to think about what had happened, because he knew that - realistically - it was his fault that she'd had to use her powers. He'd been caught up in a fight, the bomb that had been planted was seconds away from detonating, she had to do something. Of course, he had no idea that something was going to be exposing hidden telekinetic abilities to the world, but close enough, right?

"I just got off the phone with a higher up." Tony stood in the middle of the lounge, everyone looking at him as he began his speech. "Everything's gonna be fine. Just, maybe don't turn on the news for a couple days, Y/N doesn't need to see that."

"Don't act like I'm a kid, please." Y/N spoke up, making it clear that she was annoyed by the fact that everyone was seemingly ignoring that it was her who had done this. "I did this, Tony. I want to know how much damage I caused."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, shaking his head at her. "No, this is not the time to get all Steve-y on me, okay? You don't need to see it, you don't need to know, so you're not going to. Is that clear to you?"

"Mistakes happen, Y/N. It's not your fault." Steve said from where he was standing, next to the breakfast bar. "What matters is that you tell us what actually happened at some point."

"So, what I'm going to take from that, is that it's bad." She turned from Steve, back to Tony. "I'm not weak, I can deal with what I did, Tony."

Tony snapped, the stress of the situation and the argument from his daughter-figure becoming too much for him to handle, "Goddamn it, Y/N, you really wanna know what you did? Let's see, first of all, you used whatever powers you have, something that you clearly knew about but warned no one of. Second of all, you essentially bombed an apartment building in a poor part of Romania, you literally took from the poor. And now what? Fifty-five people are dead, kids have been left without parents, and that's on my back. Plus, you're being publicly deemed as a weapon until they figure out what's really going on there. So, do tell us, what is really going on there?"

"Tony. Stop." Wanda said, but Y/N was already halfway out of the room, with Tony realising that he probably shouldn't have said what he did and following after her.

"Y/N, hey, I'm sorry, okay?" Tony called, but she wasn't listening. She got in the elevator and left Tony alone in the hallway without a word, tears threatening to spill from her eyes the whole time.

And then, finally, they did. When the doors of the elevator closed, when she could no longer hear Tony's voice, when she was alone, oh they did. She found herself on the floor, face cradled in her hands - the same hands that killed fifty-five people just hours before - and there were tears falling from her eyes, past her chin, soaking her black catsuit.

She felt empty, like her body was a shell and she was simply there, watching herself fall apart. It was a kind of guilt, one that ate at her from the inside and seared through every nerve, every part of her, until she could think of doing nothing but curling up and ceasing to exist. She wanted to yell, scream, punch something, run. Anything that would distract her from how she felt. She wanted to sleep for a week, maybe two, forget about everything and ignore her responsibilities until it hurt less. Most importantly, however, she wanted Bucky. She wanted now more than ever to be his girl. For him to lay with her and tangle his fingers in her hair and whisper sweet things in her ear until the bad things in the world simply melted away.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, but Y/N didn't get up, not until FRIDAY asked if she wanted to go to another floor. When she did, however, she found herself taking the wrong turn, to the left instead of to the right, and walking away from her room instead of towards it. Without thinking, she'd already opened the door to Bucky's room, where he was reclined lazily on his bed, a pair of sweatpants on and nothing else, focused on the ceiling.

He furrowed his eyebrows at her when she gave him a tiny little smile, but sighed when he noticed the remnants of her somewhat breakdown on her face. Bucky held his arms open, "Hey, c'mere."

She stepped into his embrace, tears finding their way onto her face again, and let him caress her back and play with her hair until the crying stopped. When Bucky held her, everything felt different, like she could put things into perspective and understand that maybe it wasn't all her fault. "Look, I know you think that this is the end of the world. I know it's scary, but Wanda learned how to use her powers for good. You can do the same." Bucky's attempt at comforting Y/N wasn't exactly superlative, but she knew that he was trying.

"I'm a weapon, Buck." She pulled away from him and sat on the end of the bed, wanting to cry and clawing at the sleeves of her suit in an essay to calm herself down. "That's how Tony worded it, anyway. I shouldn't have used them."

Bucky knew that his next question was stupid, that he probably shouldn't have asked it, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he was speaking before properly thinking over the consequences. "How did you get them?" He reached out for her hand and she let him hold it, getting a rush of exhilaration from the affectionate gesture.

Bucky wasn't usually one for showing how he felt, much less for saying it out loud or doing anything to communicate his feelings, and he wasn't quite sure why he had had a sudden change of heart and almost wanted her to know that he liked her, that, really, he would do anything for her. She didn't meet his eye as she began her explanation. "Well, before Tony found me, I worked for Hydra. Actually, less worked for them and more became their personal lab rat. They did a lot of experiments on me, tortured me, really, made me more destructive than any enemy organisation would know how to handle. And then, I escaped. And here I am, talking to you."

She gave him a sad little smile, one that he would swear had broken him. "I'm sorry." It was a lame excuse for comfort, really it was, but he racked his brain once, twice, and couldn't for the life of him find the right words to say.

"Don't be." Y/N shifted in her place, gaze on her hands which were clasped in her lap. It was quiet and Bucky wished that he knew what to say to her, that he could think of something that would make her feel less alone or soothe her in some way. A minute went by, two minutes, three minutes. The silence might've been comfortable between the pair, but it was certainly uncomfortable between Y/N and her own thoughts. "I should go." She said, standing from her place on the bed without looking in Bucky's direction once.

He knew that he had to say something, anything that would make her stay. The thought of her alone in her room was heartbreaking to him. He grabbed her wrist before she could take any more than a few steps towards the door and she looked down at him, lips slightly parted and one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "You're not a weapon. Sure, Stark said that, whatever, the guy's an asshole. But you're not a weapon, Y/N."

She gave a little humourless laugh, blowing a puff of air out of her nose. "The government apparently seem to think so."

Bucky smiled at her and said, "Fuck the government."

"Oh, so you're an anarchist now? Classy." Y/N sat back down and Bucky's heart felt like it was doing summersaults in his chest, all fluttery. She was smiling, he had made her smile, and it was genuine. As far as he was concerned, nothing else really mattered.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually."

Bucky sighed and cocked an eyebrow at her, eliciting a laugh from her lips. "You're really going to make me explain myself, huh?" He joked. "Look, You're not a weapon to me. I think you're a badass, actually." She snorted.

"Bucky, I killed a lot of people."

"So have I." Bucky's tongue darted out to wet his lips as he placed a tender hand on her thigh. "You don't see me as the bad guy. You never have, actually. What I'm trying to say, is that all of us have done bad things. Made mistakes, lost control, that doesn't make us bad people."

"I feel like a bad person." Y/N had her eyes trained on Bucky's face, bottom lip held tightly between her teeth as she tried to avoid letting herself word-vomit about everything that she was feeling at that moment. His hand squeezed her thigh gently, and she let out an embarrassing and involuntary gasp that made her cheeks turn bright red.

"Don't. Y/N, I know it's cheesy as hell, but you did it to save my life, right?" Y/N nodded slowly, "So how does that make you a bad person?"

"You're grasping at strings, here."

“What can I say that'll make you feel better?"

Y/N knew what she wanted to hear, that he liked her as more than a friend, that he wanted to be with her like she wanted to be with him, that her fantasies weren't just fantasies, that he really did love her. But she couldn't say that. God, of course she couldn't say that. So, instead, she simply shrugged.

Bucky knew what he wanted to say to her, that he liked her as more than a friend, wanted her to be with him, of course he loved her. He couldn't drop all of that on her when all she'd given was a shrug, right? Wrong, apparently, because the words spilled from his mouth anyways, like he couldn't control himself.

And really, he couldn't. But he figured that she already knew that.

“I love you." He spluttered, and her eyes widened in shock. "Okay? God, I love you. And what you did today? Made me love you even more. I know you probably don't want to hear this, you don't want me to ruin our friendship, and I get it, I do. But, right now, all I wanna do is protect you, and let you know that you're really not the monster that you think you are."

She stayed silent. What could she say? Her head was swimming with ideas, but none of them really seemed fit. She thought that, if this day ever came, if somehow it came down to confessing her feelings for him, she'd know exactly what to say.

She really couldn't have been more wrong.

So, instead of speaking, she found herself simply staring at Bucky, into his eyes. Had he moved closer? Had she? Either way, their noses were soon bumping together and he was searching her face for any sign of disapproval, one that wasn't there, and so he kissed her.

She felt dizzy, lightheaded, like she couldn't quite figure out where her body ended and Bucky's began, and she didn't think she really wanted to. Lips on lips, his hand on her waist and hers roaming his hair, it felt like heaven.

She was on a high, he was too, and the comedown was breathless and just as euphoric as the real thing. "I love you too." Y/N said.

Bucky couldn't help the plainly stupid, goofy grin that had spread across his face. Did he look like an idiot? Unequivocally. Did he care? Maybe, but that wasn't the point.

"I should get back to my room." Y/N said quietly, a small smile on her lips. "Thanks for...uh, the talk."

Bucky laughed and let her get up, walk to the door and open it while he watched in a daze, and then he stopped her. "Let me walk you."

"I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. But I'm not entirely sure that you should."

Really, she was already his girl. She always had been.

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x enhanced!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #fanfic #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #mcu fic #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #deadass a novel #sorry #rogues requests #rogue writes #rogue does marvel

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serenedash · 3 years

Text

I started rambling about my experience with kh and then it turned into khux and then it just turned into me rambling about Ryou and my art journey????? enjoy I guess,

it’s very long but there’s art in there :)

It’s funny to think about my kh journey as a whole tbh, I grew up watching my mom play video games, which included kh1 and 2. I wasn’t allowed to play the playstation2 we owned BUT I did have a gameboy so the first game I played was CoM (after my mom finished it ofc,) so I guess you could say I’ve always been passionate about kh “””side games””” lmao but I did fall off of kh very quickly bc again, I wasn’t allowed to play our PS2 and also I Am A Terrible Gamer I’ve Never Finished CoM I’m sorry you all had to find out like this, but then 358/2 came out when I was in middle school and!!! I didn’t care and I didn’t play idk why lol

Anyway, fast forward to high school I’m like 15 and my older sister, who HAS been keeping up with kh, has a wallpaper on her phone of roxas and ventus. And bc I haven’t kept up I say “nice roxas wallpaper” and she says “thanks but it’s roxas and ventus” and I proceeded to get so mad that I was determined to prove to her that her wallpaper was just roxas twice and then I fell down the BBS rabbit hole and suddenly I was reading about vanitas and then I’m reading the fan translations of the BBS novel and I’m crying??? I am sobbing???? and that’s how I actually got into kh for real lol we are vanitas stans before we are people,

It’s so funny how I thought I was some kh super fan, knowing all this stuff that I spent so long reading and rewatching cutscene movies, but I never once, SOMEHOW NEVER ever came across khx. It’s so absurd and bizarre I seriously have no idea how I never once encountered khx prior to khux. I suppose that has to do with the fact I wasn’t involved in the fandom? In early high school I had stepped away from fandoms as a whole and I didn’t have any interest in really posting content or interacting with fans anymore bc of how burnt out I was from a previous fandom,

but khux released! and I was so hype and excited for it! on launch day I was a senior in high school, I had ran around to every “nerd” and weeb I could find in school to ask them to join my party and fun fact about me is I have crippling social anxiety I literally refuse to start conversations irl so holy shit I was OUT HERE doing the MOST

My player just originally had my name (Matt) but everyone in my party had fun names so Ryou was born! High school was one big yugioh phase for me and ryou bakura is one of my favorite characters ever so it was just the logical name choice lol I quickly started creating Ryou, the character, as well. I was also leaving my homestuck phase and that + vanitas obsession made This character design (art circa 2016)

If y’all are familiar with my kh oc’s you might notice that keyblade now belongs to my kid Monty LOL

Anyway that got scrapped quickly for the chip and dale outfit (which is where Ryou’s trademark goggles are from <3) Goggles have been a staple of my character designs for a LONG TIME so like, it had to be done, (that’s a separate ramble about a separate oc tho)

OG Ryou was an interesting guy; he was a young party leader with this overwhelming responsibility on his shoulders bc of his status as a party leader. In his original story, he also struggled heavily with darkness, much like Terra but for Ryou it was more that the darkness was controlling him and not like a source of power like it was for Terra

A big part of early Ryou I kept, however, was the crushing awareness of loss. One of my party members (the strongest one at the time,) had left without saying a word and I was very confused and hurt. This was around the time the ephemera plot was happening so I decided to incorporate it into Ryou’s story; having him experience losing a friend to darkness since it’s so normal for wielders in Daybreak Town to just disappear, and this would unintentionally become a theme for both me and Ryou as khux friends would just randomly disappear.

I was desperate for khux at this point and I decided to watch the fan translations for khx and GOD, god, was I obsessed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the foretellers. And I’m not going off about that here bc I already did that, but I actually started entering fandom again! I did it slowly, I started on tumblr before this blog was made altho it was me sending anons to the few khux related blogs I could have lol a friend convinced me to get twitter where I got involved with the ffxv fandom, which led me to the kh fandom and eventually the khux fandom there which is what REALLY got me going on khux.

I joined discord servers, most of the servers I’m in are khux related, and from there I joined the khux oc rp (shout out to anyone there who might be reading this lol here’s some art from the beginning of the rp,)

It’s SO FUNNY how the RP influenced me so heavily. I hadn’t RP’d in YEARS, I used to have a strict no oc rp policy, but here I was? And the funny part is, I had barely developed Ryou. I had scrapped his original story and all I had was POST WAR Ryou so I literally had to reverse write him; I had only ever written him as a depressed, guilt ridden adult, but it was a fucking blast and I have such fond memories of this rp when it was active,

But anyway, this encouraged me to get more serious about art! I started drawing, writing, cosplaying, and roleplaying when I hadn’t done any of that stuff in a very long time. The first time I ever drew a background was for a deviant art khux competition actually LOL

also! I always think extremely fondly of the drawing I did of Aced in the keyblade war. It was also one of the first backgrounds I ever drew and it felt like my real starting point in the khux fandom. It got a ton of notes on here and someone wrote a tiny fic in a reblog which just made me SO HAPPY like it really felt like people were noticing me :) I was going to draw a matching Ira but!! I just never did!! One day tho, it’s on my art bucket list to redraw this along with Ira,

Aside from my personal growth, khux was great for my social life ngl, I made SO MANY friends online and got to meet a ton of people irl over the years! It’s crazy to think about all the people I now know and talk to? It honestly makes me really emotional. I’ll never forget taking the train into NYC and meeting up with discord friends. Going to conventions and talking with people about the latest khux update? Absolutely insane and those were some GOOD TIMES, if I thanked every khux friend or even just person who made an impact on me then we’d be here for a LONG TIME,

Fun fact, for my Lauriam cosplay all I needed to buy was the wig I just owned his outfit LOL also? Probably retiring that cosplay ngl people treated me like absolute garbage when I wore him and it led to a lot of confidence issues for awhile ngl. That’s probably one of the only memorable negative experiences I have with khux; it was great when khux people recognized me but for kh fans that weren’t in khux? They were FUCKING MEAN??? fuck kh fandom at large, I only care about khux fandom,

This leads me to another huge part of my experience in khux fandom: THEORIES!! I used to write SO MANY and oh my god my brain was so full all the time. It was a huge appeal for me in the fandom; I had been previously writing theory posts in the RWBY fandom and it just migrated over to khux for me lol I had done a ton of theorizing around Lauriam tbh, it was really the only reason I liked his character at all bc initially I did not care about the dandelions, anyone who wasn’t Skuld I was like “please leave Now thanks”

A funny part of khux fandom I never intended to be apart of is the MEMES, I really only started doing memes as stress relief bc college had me so busy all I had time/energy for was these quick little shit post drawings.

The first meme I made, file name “invi despair” LOL we need to get her a girlfriend smh anyway, I think in my senior year of college I did a bunch of rapid fire memes all in one month bc the stress of finals was getting so bad afdgfhdgf as far as I know my impact on this fandom will be my memes bc all I do now is enter a kh/khux server and introduce myself and I go “yeah I draw art. here’s a meme” and everyone goes OH YOU, honestly I am nothing if not a clown

I’ve talked so much idk where I’m going with this. Khux is just a good game even if the gameplay actually kind of really sucks yknow lol but it was the first game I played where I like, REALLY got into the meta and the mechanics. I used to read so much on the mechanics and watch youtube videos on which medals were worth pulling for. I was never a whale or a top player exactly, but I could rank well if I tried lol I’ve made it to the top 100 for solo rankings, my party has made it to top 10, and in pvp I’ve made top 300. I’m not the highest level in my party but FUCK do I know how to manipulate this game LOL

And with all that hard work, the strategies, the theorizing, the content I’ve made-- it’s been my life for 5 years. I’ve logged into khux almost every single day. At the end, I have logged 1820 days in khux out of 1910 days. Kinda crazy. Crazier I’ve never spent money on khux either lol the only “money” gone into it was one time my mom gave me a google play store gift card and I used it on my birthday for a VIP xemnas medal which eventually made it to regular pulls anyway but it was nice and a little treat :)

I’m not a gacha fan, I don’t care for it, so I don’t think I’ll be touching another gacha again. But for kh? This was pretty fucking awesome, even if it sucked a lot sometimes LOL It was worth it for the people I’ve met most of all I think. I would honestly be a completely different person without khux and that’s REALLY insane to think about.

#the khux hyperfixation is REAL #but yall knew this about me #there's so much more I could say but it's 2am and this is long enough already #im rambling

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