#(taking a page from songbird because i want to be more like her) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inawearyworld · 4 months

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free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

#fiytwtb #wonka movie #wonka 2023 #wonka #willy wonka x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet #wonka x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader #mat baynton x reader

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parkerslatte · 1 year

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Songbird || SIXTEEN

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Summary: The band attend a press conference and Y/N and Eddie finally talk about their relationship.

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•••

TRACK SIXTEEN;

I WANT SOME MORE

***

The press conference was the next day, and Y/N didn't want to attend; she knew no questions would be directed towards her or any of the band other than Daisy or Billy. Y/N was sat in between Warren and Eddie. She wanted to speak to Eddie, but with how hectic the evening and day were going, she had yet to have a chance.

"Billy!"

"Daisy!"

"Billy!"

The press shouted two names and two names only; Y/N folded her arms and sat back in her chair, wanting this to be over. Warren was just barely staying awake next to her.

"Who makes that coat, Daisy?" One journalist asked.

"I don't know." Daisy says.

"And your shoes?" The journalist continued, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Why are you asking me about my clothes, man, I mean, why don't you ask Billy about that dumb-looking shirt he has on?" Daisy says.

"'More fun to miss than to be with'," Another journalist spoke, "Whose that about?"

"Ah, come on, man," Billy says, "They're just songs."

"Is that true Daisy?"

"No song is ever just a song." Daisy answered.

"You guys gonna ask us any questions?" Eddie asks.

"What's going on with you two?" A journalist pipes up.

"Who, Eddie and me?" Billy jokes.

"No, Eddie and Y/N," The journalist says, "Because that performance last night was really something."

Everyone at the table turned to look at the two with expecting eyes. Eddie's mouth opened and closed, trying to think of a response to being put on the spot.

"It was just a performance," Y/N says, "I hadn't sand on my own before in front of such a large crowd and he was simply reassuring me, it's what friends do."

As the journalists began to ask questions, only focussing on Billy and Daisy, Y/N felt someone squeeze her hand from underneath the table. Turning, she looked at Eddie, who looked at her with a smile; Y/N smiled back and squeezed his hand in return.

When Rod ended the press conference early, Y/N was up on her feet and out of the conference room as quick as she could. She could still feel Eddie's hand in hers despite letting go a long time ago. Y/N lingered outside the room for Eddie to come out, hoping to finally talk to him.

As he stepped out, he made eye contact with Y/N; Eddie began to slowly walk over. Y/N fiddled with the end of her jacket as he strode over. Each step felt like it was taking hours.

When Eddie finally stood in front of her, Y/N opened her mouth.

"Someone find Daisy and Billy," Rod shouted at all the band members, interrupting Y/N, "We have sound check in fifteen minutes."

Y/N sighed. She was never going to get a chance for that conversation.

…

Y/N L/N: Every time I wanted to have that conversation, something was happening to interrupt that. First, it was a soundcheck, then the show, and then the party after the show. I just wanted to get it over and done with.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Every lie I told Y/N ate me up inside; I just wanted to get everything off my chest. But I thought I fucked everything up too much.

…

Staring into the mirror in her room, Y/N debated going upstairs to join the party. She wasn't in the mood to take drugs or drink; she only wanted to lie down and sleep. But she had bought a new dress and wanted an excuse to wear it. Sighing again, Y/N gave herself a final look in the mirror and walked out of her room and up to the party.

One other reason why Y/N didn't want to attend was Camila. Y/N loved Camila dearly, but after their goodbye before the tour, the two hadn't spoken; there wasn't one phone call. Since Camila had met up with the band on tour the previous day, Eddie had tried his best to avoid Y/N, instead trying his best to talk to Camila. Y/N was hurt by this. Finally, they were beginning to get back onto the same page until now.

Y/N immediately grabbed a glass of wine as she stepped into the party. The party wasn't as large as their usual ones; it was more intimate, which Y/N hated, especially as there was more chance of her running into Camila or Eddie.

Across the party, Camila danced with Karen, utterly oblivious to Y/N's arrival.

"I'm just gonna get some air, I'll be a second." Camila says to Karen.

Camila steps out onto the balcony, letting the air hit her face. Eddie stood at the other end of the balcony. As Camila took a sip of her drink and turned, her eyes landed on Eddie.

"Hey." Eddie greeted.

"Hi." Camila says as an awkward silence falls upon them. Camila looks out at the night sky, anticipating the conversation.

"So, can we, uh…Could we- could we talk about it?" Eddie questions, "Please?"

"We don't have to talk about it." Camila says.

"Well, it's…I would feel better, you know." Eddie says.

"Eddie, it's-"

"I'm sorry, Camila." Eddie interrupts, "I'm really sorry."

Camila sighs, "Eddie, it's okay."

"No, no it's not," Eddie says, "I was trying to be there for you, and all I could think about was-"

"You were there for me," Camila interrupts, "You're always there for me."

"But-"

"Eddie, listen to me," Camila says softly, "You were there for me that night, we both made mistakes, we both needed a distraction and that's okay. You don't need to beat yourself up over it."

Eddie sighed, leaned against the railing, and sipped his drink, "I'm sorry."

"It's not me you should be apologising to," Camila says, "We both owe Y/N an apology."

Eddie closes his eyes, "I-I don't know how, I've fucked everything up too much."

"Tell her the truth, Eddie," Camila says, "I can tell how much you love her."

Eddie sniffed, trying to hold back his tears; he shook his head, "I fucked everything up with her, she won't want anything to do with me."

Camila placed her hand on Eddie's back, "She still loves you Eddie, I can tell. She's loved you for years now."

Eddie nodded before turning to Camila and hugging her, "Thank you, and I'm sorry."

Camila hugged him back, "Stop apologising to me, you don't need to." Eddie nodded and pulled away.

Camila reached up and wiped his tear away, "You'll be okay, Eddie."

With that, Camila left the balcony and stepped back into the party.

From across the room, Y/N saw Camila leave the balcony. Once her eyes landed on Y/N, Camila froze. Y/N's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she began to walk closer. Y/N saw Camila sigh before she walked up to Y/N.

"Camila, I love you but tell me what the fuck is going on." Y/N demanded.

"I will talk to you Y/N but I think you need to talk to Eddie first," Camila says, taking Y/N's hands in hers, "I promise I will explain everything but you need to speak to Eddie before me, okay?"

"Okay," Y/N says, furrowing her eyebrows, "Where is he?"

"On the balcony," Camila says, "But Y/N, you have to hear him out, okay?"

Camila gave Y/N's hands a squeeze before walking away, leaving her standing there alone. Y/N focused on the balcony doors. Continuing the small distance from where she was standing, Y/N pushed open the door to the balcony and stepped out into the cold midnight air. Her heart was beating a mile a minute.

Looking around on the balcony, Y/N saw a figure facing out, staring at the lights in the distance. Y/N's heart sank; she had wanted this conversation, but now that it was happening, she didn't know how to approach it.

"What's going on Eddie?" Y/N questioned, speaking up. The noise from inside seemed miles away, the chatter from people talking barely audible.

Turning around, Eddie looked at Y/N, surprised to see her there. "What are you doing out here, Y/N?" Eddie questioned.

"Answer my question, Eddie," Y/N demands, "Why did Camila just leave here in a hurry? She told me to come and speak to you."

Eddie sighed, "I don't know."

Eddie didn't know how to approach this conversation, and all he wanted was to jump from the balcony and run for the hills.

Y/N stepped closer; she knew he was lying. Over the last month, she had an inkling as to what happened between the two; she just hoped that her hunch was correct or she would feel stupid.

"You sure as hell know," Y/N says, her voice low, "What's going on with you and Camila?"

"Y/N please just go back to the party." Eddie begged.

Y/N folded her arms across her chest, stepping further onto the balcony, "I'm not until you tell me what's going on."

Eddie remained silent.

"I know I told you that we shouldn't be friends, I know that, but I regret it, I miss you so much it pains me. Then after the photoshoot you just start to avoid me and act like I don't even exist," Y/N explains, "Camila has been acting strange with me as well. Before we left for the tour, she made every excuse not to meet up for dinner or go for a couple of drinks, every phone call she finds a way to end it quickly. She's avoiding me as much as you."

"I don't know anything about that." Eddie says, avoiding eye contact.

"Another lie. I really thought that after that performance we did together, we could sort things out, I really did, but as soon as Camila arrived you're acting completely different again, you're avoiding me," Y/N says, stepping closer to Eddie so their chests were nearly pressed together, "Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid, Eddie?"

"What?"

"You really think that I'm stupid enough to not figure out what is going on with you," Y/N says, "And Camila for that matter."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie challenged, "Then what's going on, Y/N? Tell me."

"You slept with Camila." Y/N says, and Eddie doesn't respond, "That silence is enough of an answer.

Y/N turned to leave the balcony, afraid that if she stayed any longer, she would say something she would regret. However, Eddie had other plans as he gripped her elbow. Electric shocks ran up her arm.

"I didn't sleep with Camila," Eddie says finally, "I kissed her, that was all that happened, Y/N. I can promise you that."

"How am I meant to believe you, Eddie?" Y/N questions, "All you've done to me this past year is lie to me."

"And you haven't done the same?" Eddie questioned, "That night when you said that the night we spent together meant nothing to you, you lied then."

"And so did you," Y/N says, her voice barely above a whisper, "But that's long in the past now."

"Is it?" Eddie questions.

Y/N remained silent. The question hung in the air. Of course, it wasn't in the past; that night continued to replay in Y/N's mind every night when she went to sleep. She could still feel his touch on her skin and his lips on hers. Everything about Eddie was intoxicating.

"Y/N," Eddie says, leaning forward, resting his forehead on hers, "I can't keep pretending that I'm not in love with you."

A gasp was stuck in Y/N's throat. She closed her eyes to prevent the tears.

"That night only happened with Camila because I was confused," Eddie explains, "I was confused about you. I fell in love with you long ago; it just took me a long time to realise it. I thought that I was still in love with Camila, but that night, if it was anything to go off, proves that I'm not anymore. I think I just needed a distraction; you told me not to speak to you again," Eddie paused momentarily.

"That night didn't go any further than a kiss," Eddie said, "Now I'm not lying when I say that it nearly did but as soon as I closed my eyes when she began to kiss my neck I called out your name. I imagined she was you…I wished she was you."

It was silent; even the noise from the party seemed to have disappeared completely. The confession hung out in the open.

"I love you, Y/N," Eddie continues, "More than I've ever loved anyone."

Y/N slowly raised her hand and gripped Eddie's jacket's front, pulling him closer to her.

"Please say something." Eddie whispers.

Y/N opened her eyes and looked up at Eddie. Like Y/N, tears brimmed his eyes. Y/N bit her lip as the tears finally escaped and cascaded down her cheeks. After so long, the words she wanted to hear from Eddie were finally said.

"I'm in love with you, too," Y/N says. All the weight crushing Y/N was lifted; she felt like she could float.

Wasting no time, Eddie's hands cupped Y/N's face and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was gentle and full of tenderness and adoration. Eddie gently pushed Y/N back so her back made contact with the wall. Eddie smiled into the kiss as Y/N reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Eddie pulled away to admire Y/N. He admired everything about her. From her eyes and the way, they would crinkle when she smiled. Her nose and the way she would scrunch it up when she found something funny. Her lips, which for the most part, were opened in a bright smile. It wasn't just Y/N's physical features he admired either. Her resilience and ambition were something he had always loved about her. The way she wouldn't take any shit from anyone. Her kindness. Her strength. Everything about Y/N, Eddie loved and admired. He adored her.

"What?" Y/N asked with a smile.

"Nothing." Eddie says, smiling.

"Liar." Y/N whispered.

Eddie pressed a series of kisses to Y/N's lips, her cheeks, the tip of her nose and her forehead before ending back at her lips, pecking them once, twice, then three times before pulling away. He couldn't get enough of her.

"You're beautiful." Eddie says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Y/N smiled before wrapping her arms around Eddie's neck, pulling him into a hug, and burying her head into his shoulder. Eddie wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other gently held the back of her head. Y/N felt entirely at ease for the first time in a while, wrapped up in Eddie's arms.

Y/N kissed Eddie's neck across his jawline before connecting their lips again.

"I love you so much." Y/N says, tears still falling down her face in perfect droplets.

"Why are you crying?" Eddie chuckled, wiping the tears away.

"I'm just happy." Y/N says, pressing her lips to Eddie's.

"Do you want to go back inside?" Eddie asked his voice low.

"No," Y/N answered, "Let's stay out here for a little while longer."

The two continued to stay on the balcony, arms wrapped around each other with no intention of letting go. Stolen kisses are shared with one another and whispered sweet nothings into the other's ear. This picture-perfect scenario was only interrupted once Y/N shivered. Not hesitating for a second, Eddie shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around Y/N's shoulders.

"As much as I don't want to cover up this dress, you're freezing." Eddie says, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

Eddie wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist and pulled her into his side while he opened the balcony door. Most of, if not all, the people who were present at the party had disappeared; it just left the band with the extension of Nicky and Camila.

As the two walked in together and sat on the couch, Warren looked over at Y/N, a smirk on his face. Y/N gave him a look that told him not to say anything before she leaned into Eddie's side. Y/N looked up at Eddie and pressed a short kiss to his jaw, not caring who saw. Y/N couldn't be happier than she was at that moment, and neither could Eddie.

…

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: [smiles fondly]

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tepkunset · 5 months

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The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes Film Review

(This review contains spoilers!)

I consider The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes book to be a masterpiece that sets a standard of what YA Fiction can be; something that any young adult upwards can enjoy. Suzanne Collins does such an amazing job of pulling you into the world and characters she’s created, and doesn’t shy away from the truly grotesque things that make a dystopia feel impactful. I am glad to say that, for the most part, this film lives up to that standard.

Before anything else, I do want to get a few minor complaints out of the way. Keep in mind they did not ruin the film for me, but I feel they are worthy of pointing out.

Sejanus Plinth is my favourite character in the book, and while for the most part he is very accurate, there is one thing that really disappointed me: In the book, Sejanus knew damn well what he was doing with the rebels; he deliberately supplied them with weapons. But in the film, he has the line “I didn’t know there would be guns”, discovering for the first time that they used his money to arm themselves. This really feels like de-clawing his character to me.

It would’ve been nice to have at least a brief mention that Barb Azure is gay. I can understand why they had to cut out Pluribus Bell for time, but because the also cut him out, that means there’s no mention at all of the book’s queer characters in the film.

The relationship between Coriolanus and Sejanus has a much more bitter feeling in the film than in the book, and after sleeping on it, I think I know why: Because we don’t get to hear Coriolanus’s thoughts in the film, the film I think overcompensates by making him much more verbal about his snobbery towards Sejanus. Subsequently, it’s harder to believe why Sejanus sees Coriolanus as his best friend.

Okay now, onto the praises!

The story is extremely loyal to the book. In fact, there is a lot of dialogue that is ripped right of the page, and it all made me really happy to hear. I am especially glad they kept in this pinnacle Lucy Gray quote: “I think there’s a natural goodness built into human beings. You know when you’ve stepped across the line into evil, and it’s your life’s challenge to try and stay on the right side of that line.” Because this, of course, directly enforces the core message I took from the book: Good and evil is a choice. The choices that Coriolanus made are his to hold responsibility to, and as much as you can point at Dr. Gaul for introducing him to the path he takes, ultimately, he chose to walk it. Most of the changes were understandable cuts for time without any sacrifices being too detrimental. The things they added were all, in my opinion, enhancements to the story by expanding on what only happens on the peripheral of Coriolanus’s point of view in the book. For example, the things he only watches on screen in the arena are delved further into by shifting to Lucy Gray directly a few times. They also added a bit to Coral’s character at her time of death, which I liked because it made her out to be less of a cardboard antagonist and instead reminded the audience that she, too, is a victim of the system.

All the actors did a phenomenal job, from both the main and supporting cast. Tom Blyth does a great job at showing Coriolanus Snow’s progression down the path of a young villain in the making. Rachel Zegler does a great job at capturing Lucy Gray’s charm and free spirit. Josh Andrés Rivera does a great job at selling the weight Sejanus carries around with him, and has some of the best line deliveries in the film in my opinion. (My favourite being “I’m so blameless I’m choking”.) And I especially have praise for Viola Davis as Dr. Volumnia Gaul, who does an amazing job at bringing the unhinged character from the book onto the screen. She’s properly intimidating and strange at the same time. Dimitri Abold as Reaper was also a scene-stealer, in that he captures what I absorbed from the book really well; the western societal expectation that a young Black man is a danger that is then turned on its head. Not only does he not kill a single person, he has a very emotional moment of mourning for the tributes, collecting their bodies as he does in the book, and covering them with the Panem flag – something that outrages the audience more than the actual death of the children.

The scenery is very loyal to the descriptions provided in the book; I swear they stole it straight from my own personal imagination while reading.

The music… I don’t even know how to put to words my satisfaction in how the film adapts the music written out in the book, into an actual song. My personal favourite is “Nothing You Can Take From Me”. Rachel Zegler has a great voice, for sure.

The costume design is great. The Capitol’s eccentricities we know from the core trilogy haven’t evolved yet, but there’s still a certain flavour carried with characters like Tigris and Dr. Gaul for example, that tell a story of where the fashion will eventually end up. On the other hand, we see that things haven’t changed very much for District Twelve at all, which showcases how society’s change is stilted in poverty.

The colour palette of the film is mostly just a little desaturated, with one exception: whenever Lucy Gray takes Coriolanus outside of District Twelve. The meadow, the lake, and the forest are all noticeably more colourful, which I interpreted as representing the freedom these locations offer to the characters.

All in all, I think the film was fantastic. It is easily the most loyal Hunger Games adaptation, and I don’t think that’s coincidental in its quality.

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #hunger games #movie thoughts

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munsonownsmyass · 1 year

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When Snow Falls

Matthias Helvar x reader

Summary: Caught outside during a snowstorm, you're thankful your fjerdan neighbor comes to your rescue.

Authors note: This is my contribution to the TFC challenge. Us girlies on the Thirsty for Cox discord thought it would be a fun idea. Masterlist to all the stories will be linked here, once it's out.

Also, you can't tell me Matthias Helvar isn't either a virgin or very inexperienced. Look at how he acts around Nina in Shadow and Bone. This is the hill I die on. But maybe I'll change that 😜

Warnings: pining... so much pining its disgusting. Fluff, some fjerdan language (everything should be translated). Kissing, SMUT! 18+. The softest sex (unprotected) I've ever written. I'm so sorry, but they're in love.

Hajefetla means Songbird

Part 1 -

It didn’t take long before the leaves fall from the trees and the winds started getting colder. Winter was coming and while others might hate this time of year, this was one of the reasons you moved here. You had always loved the snow and knew Maine had some cold, snowy winters and you just couldn’t wait to be curled up in a blanket next to the fire, looking out over the snow-covered forest.

A week later you got your wish. The first day of snow fall was an absolute dream. Röed was running around, trying to catch the falling snow while you just stood there on the porch, watching quietly as the warm colors of autumn gave away for winter. In no time at all, a white blanket covered the forest. Almost like the forest was getting a clean slate.

The daily trips through the forest were getting harder, but you still did them. Mostly because Matthias often was waiting with some hot chocolate or mulled wine, if you made the journey to his house. The two of you had gotten friendlier. Matthias was still shy at times, but slowly he opened up and told you more of his home and past. He hadn’t lived an easy life, so you were glad he had found some peace here in the wilderness.

And so had you. Never felt more at home, like you’d finally found your place. You had also found inspiration again, the words flowing out onto the pages. A certain encounter had ignited the light within you and you already had several chapters of your newest novel ready. Some day you would have to thank Matthias for the inspiration.

Pushing away from the desk, you need a break after a long day writing. Röed nudges your hand, whining softly. You know she wants to go out, but the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Arguing with her on how it’s gonna be a short trip, you put on your coat and boots, nearly getting knocked over by the wind when you open the door. Before you can stop her, Röed runs off into the woods.

“Röed, stop!” You try, but she doesn’t listen. Running after her, you hope you catch her before she gets to far. The forecast had called for a storm and you did not want to get stuck out here. Soon you loose your orientation, seeing nothing but white and trees.

“Röed! Come here girl!” You shout, barely audible over the strong wind. The cold is seeping through your clothes, making you shiver. Limbs start to go numb, and you can barely move your fingers, trying your best to shield them from the cold. “Where are you?! RÖED!”

You fight through the thick dunes of snow, feeling like you hardly move as the winds keep knocking you back. Everything is white and you can’t see where you are anymore. Slowly you start to panic, imagining the worst. What if you don’t find your way home? What if you get lost? Fuck. What if you freeze to death?

“HAJEFETLA!! Over here!” You hear a voice in the distance, distorted by the heavy winds. Looking around, you see nothing besides snow and trees. “Matthias?!”

“Come on, we need to get out of the storm!” He shouts, taking your hand in his as he guides you through the storm.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you and without thinking you scream. “Calm down, min hajefetla.” Matthias says softly, turning you around to face him. Relived to be saved, you lunch forward, throwing your arms around him.

“But Röed… I need to find her!” You sob, the exhausting and cold starting to break you down. Matthias stops when he hears the distress in your voice, pulling his coat off before wrapping it around you.

“She’s already in my cabin. That’s why I came looking for you.” His words are soft, laced with concern for you. You tug at the coat, realizing he must be freezing. But before you can take it off, he stops you with a smile. “I’m Fjerdan. I’ve been through worse.”

Outside, the snow keeps falling, the dunes growing at a rapid speed. It wont take long before the house is covered and you won’t be able to leave. With a gentle tap on your shoulder, you look up to find a hot cup of tea and as you take it, Matthias sits down beside you, looking out through the window.

Stumbling through the front door, you are instantly hit by the warmth of his cabin. Röed and Trassel greets you both as you shed the cold and wet layers. You mutter a curse under your breath and Röed knows she’s in bad standing, hiding her muzzle in Trassel’s side. In a matter of seconds, you’re placed in front of the fire with a blanket, while Matthias is warming some water.

He keeps looking at you, making sure you’re okay. The kind gesture makes you smile, the butterflies in your stomach you're always feeling in his presence, suddenly feeling like an entire swarm.

“What?” you grin, hating the way the sound of Matthias speaking his native tongue makes your body tingle. He smiles softly, cheeks turning pink as he leans in a little closer. “It means ‘Welcome and wait out the storm’. Since we’re stuck, I might as well teach you some Fjerdan.”

“Looks like you have to stay. I won’t let you out in that storm again.” You just nod, silently agreeing. Matthias takes some of the blanket, before he holds up the cup in a cheer. “Jormanen end denam danne näskelle.”

The hours go by as the snow grows higher. It’s lucky Matthias was used to weather like this from home, so he had already stuck up on food, beverages and enough firewood for a day or two. You silently thank Röed for running off, cause if you’d been stuck at home, you would probably have freezed to death or starved. Not much of a survivalist, you’re very thankful you have Matthias. Especially now, as he turns out to be quite good company. With most of the shyness gone, you’ve talked nonstop since you came.

“So… ‘Dja jarmin ness’? is that right?” You try and by Matthias’ soft giggle, you realize you’re way off. Punching his shoulder playfully, you feign being hurt. “Well, tell me then.”

Still giggling, Matthias stops the chopping and look at you. Trying to compose himself. “Dje janin ess.” He speaks softly looking deep into your eyes. You swallow hard, fighting hard to resist him. How easily it would be to just lean in, feel his soft lips against your own. But you look away, fingers fidgeting with a loose sting in your jeans.

“What does it mean?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as you look up at him again. His sky blue eyes find yours and for a second you forget how to breathe. Somehow, you always forget just how beautiful he is. He leans in close and all you can focus on is how desperately you want to kiss him.

“It’s a swear word.” He grins as he pulls back, resuming his chopping. Letting go of the breath you didn’t even knew you were holding, you feel embarrassed at how you expected something else, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire.

“Don’t you guys have any sweet words or sayings? You’ve only taught me oaths and swear words.” You huff out, trying to hide how flustered you are under a cover of annoyance. Matthias just smiles, dropping all the vegetables into the soup, before he leans against the counter with his arms crossed across his chest.

“I was a Drüskelle. We live hard lives. We are not soft men.” He looks to the floor, the memories of his past coming back, making you not quite believe the last statement. From what you’ve seen, Matthias did seem softer than most, kind. He sighs, before turning back to the pot. “We don’t talk much.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” You counter, causing him to smile wide. “Still… What would you say to a woman you love?”

He is silent for a while, stirring the soup. You fear the question was too much, ready to apologize when he speaks. “I would call her ‘min hjerte’. It means ‘My heart’ or...” He pauses, barely able to meet your eyes. “‘Min hajefetla’.” With the last words, he looks deep into your eyes.

“But… But that’s what you call me.” You breathe out.

“Yes.” His voice is low, like he’s afraid to speak the words. They hang between you like an unspoken prayer, a soft plea for you to head. After all this time, was he feeling the same way you did? You reach out, about to take his hand when your phone rings, startling you both. Frustrated, you take the call and jump of the counter.

“Mom, I’m fine.” You say, sending Matthias an apologetic look. “No, of course I’m not outside in the storm. I’m with Matthias and-” You pause, interrupted by your mother. Cheeks slowly turning pink, you look to Matthias before walking away. “It’s my neighbor. Look mom, I’ll call you later.”

You hang up, muttering an apology to Matthias, before returning the phone to your pocket. He stirs the pot, the moment from before gone. You set the table and most of the meal is in silence. You talk some, but the tension in the room is hard to ignore.

After you’ve cleaned the dishes, whipping them in silence beside Matthias, he takes the towel from your hand and look at you with a heartbreakingly sweet smile. “I have an idea, if… If you want to help me?”

30 minutes later you look at your little masterpiece. In the living room, on the floor in front of the fireplace, were now a makeshift bed. Lots of pillows, blankets and mattresses, making sure it would be very comfortable. The winds were picking up and every other room was cold, so Matthias had suggested making a bed here. You agreed, not because of the logic of it, but because deep down you had a small glimmer of hope that the moment in the kitchen weren’t completely lost.

It doesn’t take long before you’re both comfortable there, enjoying the warmth of the fire while watching the tv. Christmas movie marathon. You couldn’t wait for Christmas, always loved this time of year. Your family was coming in a week, staying over the holidays and you couldn’t wait to show them how beautiful this place was.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Matthias just huffs, looking at the tv as he picks another piece of candy from the bowl. “I’m gonna sit here alone.”

You could kick yourself. You knew his family was killed when he was younger, which was why he had joined the Drüskelle. He had left his whole life behind and probably didn’t have anyone besides you, Röed and Trassel.

“Would-” You pause, trying to muster up the courage, afraid he’ll say no. ”Would you wanna spend Christmas with us?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, you mentally kick yourself, afraid you overstepped. But then he takes your hand in his, giving it the lightest squeeze. “You… You really want me to spend Christmas with your family?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to sit alone.” You say softly, turning towards him and look into his eyes. You cup his cheek, fingers trembling slightly. Here goes nothing. “But mostly I wanna spend Christmas with you… If you want?”

In an instant, his lips are on yours, the kiss soft and warm. It’s delicate yet still sends shivers down your spine. One hand is still holding yours, the other resting gently on your thigh. The kiss is short, but till the best kiss of your life.

“I do want that. But wouldn’t your family think it’s weird?” He asks, face flustered as he looks into your eyes, his full of glee. You match the grin on his face, already knowing that from now on you’ll do whatever you can to keep that smile on his face.

“Definitely not. My mom’s been pestering me about finding a man, so she would love it if you were there.”

“Oh, so I’m your man now?” He chuckles, playfully tickling your sides. You try to push him away, to no avail since he’s huge and built of pure muscle. He continues his onslaught, grinning at the sound of your giggles. When he finally listens to your pleas to stop, you find your self on your back, Matthias' wide frame over you. His leg is slotted between yours, his thigh rubbing dangerously close to your clothed core.

There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at you, like you hung the stars from the sky. He leans on one elbow, his free hand brushing away a stray hair before he runs his thumb along your jaw. “Min hajefetla.”

His lips claim yours again, this time the kiss is more passionate. His wide frame cage you in under him, pressing you softly into the mattress under you as he deepens the kiss. Overwhelmed by desire for him, unable to hold back any longer, you pull him closer. One hand on his back, feeling his muscles dance under your fingers, the other entangling in his hair.

Moans fill the air as he presses closer, his hips now fully slotted between your thigs. His desire is palpable, his hard length pressing against your already wet core. But suddenly, he pulls away, breathing hard as he tries to compose himself.

“Is something wrong? If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” You say honestly, but still hoping he just needs to breathe. You’re already soaked for him, never wanted anyone like you crave him in this moment.

“It’s been a long time.” He confesses, a soft tremble to his voice. “And… There’s only been one… before.” He looks away, face red with embarrassment. He might think it’s humiliating, but it’s far from it. Only makes you like Matthias more, proving that he is just the sensitive soul you thought he was.

“It’s okay. We can take our time.” You plant a soft kiss on his cheek, before claiming his lips gently. His kiss is still hesitant, but slowly it grows deeper, his tongue eagerly dancing over yours. Prepared to not go further, you’re surprised when Matthias breaks away to pull his sweater off. With idle fingers, he pull at the hem of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head. The rest of your clothes soon follows.

It’s not wild and hard, but soft and passionate. Taking your time, your hands explore his body, storing every inch of him to your memory. Hardly any sound is uttered, only soft moans now and then. Although you ache to feel him, you revel in this. You simply just want to be in his arms, feeling him close. You kiss again and again, as if you have all the time in the world.

You feel his hard cock rub against your wet slit, begging for entrance. You wrap your legs around his waist, kissing him deeper as he pushes in. Gasping, you feel how every inch stretches you open as he thrust in slowly. He moans your name, kissing you neck. It’s achingly slow, but it feels like heaven. Every thrust of his hips sends bolts of pleasure through you, making you quiver under him. it’s sweet and sensual, just what you both had needed for so long.

You look into Matthias’ glistening eyes, a look of pure devotion on his unguarded face as he hits that sweet spot inside you, feeling the way you clench around him. Your bodies move together in a slow, desperate rhythm. You whisper Matthias name, falling from your lips in a quiet chant. Both your bodies screaming with pleasure, every inch of your skin prickling with bliss.

As the day grows darker and the snow covers the cabin, you and Matthias are lost to the world, knowing nothing but each other and pure bliss. The storm silenced for a moment, only the beathing of your hearts filling the air. It wasn’t so bad, after all, to be snowed in.

TFC girls: @e-dubbc11 @mindidjarin @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @itwasthereaminuteago @phoebe-danvers @mattmurdocksscars @saintmurd0ck @a-bang-for-your-bucky @pedrito-friskito

Tagging: @lucy-sky @our-chaos

#matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar fanfiction #seasons may change #TFC December challenge #TFC challenge #matthias helvar #six of crows fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfiction #modern!matthias helvar

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disneyanddisneyships · 1 year

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@gyubby99 okay I had to write some Carolyn stuff.

Carolyn skipped her way into her father's study. The eight year old had been "summoned". Something about an important discussion about her future.

"Daddy?" She asked as she opened the door.

"Ah, care bear! Come in, darling," her father exclaimed with a small smile as he regally made his way over to the chairs in the middle of the room.

"Daddy, why did you ask me here?" The little girl asked as she sat in a chair, her feet hanging as she kicked them back and fourth.

"Well... my dear.... your mother and I spoke the other day and we believe it's time to tell you that you are engaged to be married!" Her father spoke with a small smile.

Carolyn's feet stopped their movements as she looked at her dad and tilted her head.

"But daddy, boys are icky..... since when have I been englaged?" She asked, messing up the word.

"Its 'engaged', darling... and it's been like this since you were born I'm afraid," he explained.

"But.... what's the wedding going to be like?" She asked.

"Well that's for you to decide, my duckling," he answered.

"Hmmmm..... who am I going to marry?" She asked again as she began to kick her feet once more.

"A young strapping man just over the horizon. His name is prince Johnathan. I'm told he's a unique boy. I'm sure you'll get along," He explained.

"Hm.. okay! I'm gonna go start planning my wedding!" Carolyn exclaimed with a joyful smile as she hopped down from the chair and ran out of the room.

"... please let that boy be good to her," Her father muttered before giving a sigh and going back to handle the kingdom's debt.

Carolyn made it back to her room, giggling all the way there before jumping onto her bed and taking out a small notebook from under her mattress.

Dear Diary, Daddy just told me that I'd be getting married in the future! I found it quite confusing because I'm only 8.. but I guess that's what princesses are s'possed to do! it's okay though cause I know that, that day is going to be perfect!

Years later....

"Again Carol!" Her mother yelled as Carolyn sighed and slouched.

"Mother, I'm never going to get it right! Violin is too hard. Why couldn't I have learned piano?" A 15 year old Carolyn asked.

"Darling, violins are unique! They give off a sound that nothing else can!" Her mother explained.

Carolyn sighed, earning a knowing look from her mother.

"Go on my dear. Take a break. Be back here in an hour," she muttered before gently taking the instrument out of Carolyn's hands and smiling.

Carolyn ran up to her room, the flower crown she wore accentuating her wavy platinum blonde hair. The dress around her whooshed as she ran into her room, practically jumping onto her bed and taking out a small scrap book.

"Care bear?" Came her father's voice as he knocked and entered. "What's that?" He asked.

"Its a scrapbook of wedding things! I thought I'd want it for when my wedding is supposed to be planned!" Carolyn explained with a smile as she flipped through some pages. "Do you think Prince Johnathan would like roses?" She asked.

"Youll have to ask him, my dear..... do you need anything?" He asked.

"No.... why are you acting strange? She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No reason, darling. I must've slept wrong. I'll leave you to it!" He replied before wlaking out of her room.

Carolyn shrugged before taking out her diary.

Dear diary, There's only a few more years until I'm married. I do hope eathan the stable boy won't be too distressed. I recall our parting like a songbird singing for death.... I do hope he forgives me. But I'm afraid my loyalties mist lay with my future husband! I won't know what he's like until we marry, but I've a feeling he'll be very kind!

3 years later

Carolyn looked at her hands as the carriage rocked back and fourth on the dirt road.

"Now now, bumblebee, please don't look so sad... I know it's been difficult since your mother.... this marriage will help our kingdom in the long run," her father spoke as he raised her chin up with his finger.

"How am I supposed to get married without mother?" Carolyn asked in a whisper.

The carriage stopped and moments later the door was opened.

"His Highness, King Xavier, and his daughter, Princess Carolyn!" One of the footmen announced as the two got out of the carriage.

"Ah, Xavier! What a lovely suprise!" Jonathan's father spoke as he moved to hug Carolyn's father. "Ah and this must be your daughter. She's quite lovely!" He stated with a warm smile before glancing to his son and gesturing him over.

Prince Johnathan rolled his eyes, not going unnoticed by Carolyn.

She held out her hand, only for Johnathan to shake it harshly instead of a proper kiss on the knuckles.

"Its very nice to finally meet you, Prince Johnathan. I'm Princess Carolyn of Rosania," Carolyn introduced herself.

"Yeah. I figured. Call me John," He muttered.

Carolyn kept a smile... this wasn't at all what she thought it would be....

A day later, the wedding was held.

And that night, Carolyn sat and waited in her new room, Alone.

Dear diary, This wasn't at all what I wanted.... there were no smiles.... no romance.... there wasn't even any flowers, much less roses.... I'm holding out that with time, my new husband will get accustomed. until then,, I believe this is the last page I will be writing for a while.. Goodbye ~ Carol

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astridthevalkyrie · 11 months

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chand ko chakor dekhe, tujkho naseebo wala (the bird looks at the moon, a lucky one looks at you) | hawks x reader | chapter 2

“You’ve died twice? From clocks?” “I know you’re not blind to the rocks and debris flying literally everywhere! The world would be better off without you in it!” you scream at the villain. The machine is even louder as it breaks and jams into the ground. “Flying building pieces or something, I don’t know—one hit me yesterday. The first day I got knocked into a wall, and then I woke up hugging my body pillow. Same thing the next day. And the next, and the next. Did my number three pro hero partner save me? No, he let me get stuck in a fucking time loop!” Or, you’ll do a lot of things with infinite time on your hands, but falling in love with Keigo Takami isn’t one of them.

a/n: you know it's a good writing kick when i'm updating despite no one liking this but me LOL

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns. FOUL language, reader curses so much, and just general rudeness, lots of death because reader is morbid, reader slutshames hawks

“So how many times have you told me?”

“Jesus, you must be allergic to asking original questions.”

Hawks levels you with an unimpressed look. “I’d say something about how I obviously wouldn’t remember my past self’s questions—”

“‘But you’ll probably make fun of me by repeating verbatim what I’m saying.’” You smirk at the pained look on his face that accompanies your air quotes. “Yeah. Now you’re going to try and think of an original, out of the box question to ask, which, if you can believe it or not, varies on how I move or what I say. I look right, you ask me what past you has said so far, but if I look left, you ask me about how I’ve been keeping myself entertained.”

After a long pause in which you think about how much you hate this fucking coffee, Hawks says, “You’re going to be a pain to talk to.”

“I’m a goddamn delight. You’re the one I’ve had to convince of this six whole times.”

“But you keep tellin’ me, sweetheart.” Ew. Ew. “Why is that?”

“I told you, you’re a constant everyday. Besides me dying.”

“You die—”

“Yes,” you sigh impatiently, “I never get through the day without dying. The longest I’ve gone is till 4 PM.” Gesture to the clock that you know is five minutes ahead. “So, one hour left to go! Yay me.”

Now you both only stare at each other, which is new, since Hawks can usually never shut the fuck up. There’s a question you want to ask, have wanted to ask for the past few days you’ve told him (with some breaks in between because come on, you’re not a walking Wikipedia page for fucking time loops and Hawks has no idea how to not be a pain) but you’re not going to because. Uh. Insecurity or some shit.

Taking a long swig of his yucky strawberry bright pink dark-as-his-soul drink, freaky golden eyes observe you. You only darken your own gaze. What is this? A death match? Well, you’ve died several times and he’s still stuck at zero so. You know. He can suck your dick.

“Why don’t you ask me some questions?” he finally offers, and when you narrow your eyes, he grins cheerfully. “C’mon, songbird, you know you want to.”

“What’s the ratio of men you’ve been with versus women?”

“Four to nine. Challenge me next time.”

What a smug little shit. “Slut. How crazy do you think I am right now?”

“Not any more than normal.”

“How do you not sweat in that oversized jacket?”

“Bird stuff. And style takes priority over comfort.”

“Wild.” This is boring. Fucking boring, you’re bored, and you could die at any time. How boring does something have to be for you to not be nervous about death? Goddamn.

You’re nearly beaming when a gunshot hits the ceiling, only for your happy mood to be replaced by a horrified one when a literal mini feather takes the robber out of the store and knocks him against a lamppost. What the fuck. What the fuck, dude.

The waitress who makes the least shitty coffee in the whole cafe has tears in her eyes. “Oh, thank you, Hawks! Thank you! I was so scared!”

“When?”

A fat tear catches on her lip as she quivers. “W-what?”

“When were you scared? He dealt with that in a second! The asshole didn’t even give you time to be scared!”

“I’m fast,” Hawks winks at her, stepping too close for your comfort. Slut. WHORE. “Oh my god,” he snaps his fingers in realization, “you knew that was going to happen. You’re a bad person.” For some reason, that thought is abso-fucking-lutely hilarious to him. “You were so about to let this store be robbed.”

“Um, no. For your FYI—”

“Redundant—”

“The same things don’t happen everyday. I mean that stupid fucking shit for brains asshole clock bitch always shows up, but the cafe has never been robbed before. That’s just the universe trying to kill me. Look.” You stomp out, waving away the waitress who seems too hesitant to tell you that you have to pay they can put you in jail give you a life sentence it won’t matter now innit and kneel down by the robber.

“Aha! One more bullet. This was my death instrument. But you interrupted.”

SCARY shimmery golden eyes get closer closerthanhewastothewaitress until you’re knelt up against the same lamppost that gave Mr. Robber a concussion. “So I saved your life. Do I get a thank you kiss?”

“You get a choke on my balls, man. Also, you’re being, like. Really casual about this. Consistently. You’re telling me to try stuff and I’m trying the stuff, like I watched the Bill Murray movie and I gave myself a really good orgasm, and none of it worked, but if I didn’t know better I’d say you were living this with me.”

“Nah.” The corners of his lips quirk up genuinely. “I’m just trying to match whatever you’re giving me. You’re not panicking, so I’m not gonna be the one who tries to push you over the edge.”

“But I am panicking. Like, it’s whatever because I can’t stop it, but Hawks, I’m still...” You blink, looking at him, for the first time, with a defeated look. “Stuck.”

The pro catches your chin before it falls, forcing it up to meet his gaze. Ugly, lemon-colored eyes. Lips that at least four men and nine women have kissed. You wonder if Hawks is into degradation. He looks like he has a praise kink.

His hand encircles your wrist, he leans in, and then he blows a cherry on your cheek.

“Gross, dude, you’re gross!”

“Tell me everyday.” he replies cheerfully, “not that I’m gross.” You’re going to tell him exactly that everyday. Even when you’re not in a time loop. If you’re ever not in a time loop. “But about what’s happening. I’ll help get you unstuck no matter what.”

Why. You’re not gonna ask that. You’re just gonna accept the help that he owes you for not saving you the first day. And fuck that little butterfly-flutterfly shitstain feeling that’s usually reserved for your pussy that’s creeping up higher and twisting into knots in your stomach.

(The only time you’ve ever felt it with Hawks in the past was that one time he was fucking stuffing his gob with cheap street vendor fried chicken and when he swallowed he. Groaned. Out loud. All disgusting and unghhhh and shit. And your womanly wiles liked it. The fuck.)

“Fine.” Your palm touches his cheek right as the robber comes to, taking the gun that you cleverly left at his side and blowing a hole in your head.

—————————————————

You will not be telling Hawks you died while caressing his prickly bird face.

—————————————————

In three days actuallynodaysatallhowSPOOKY, it’s 4 PM, and you and Hawks are at the top of the highest building in the city.

“You never did ask.” Hawks looks and sounds like a villain, surrounded by so many feathers pointed outward. You feel like a civ too, in the middle of it all, standing helplessly. But you’re not scared of him. If you weren’t sure you could take him? Then maybe. Are you sure? Maybe. Whatever. You can work on that confidence todaymorrow.

“Ask what?” The way your hands are up as though you’re ready to fight invisible demons would you make you fucking cackle if it was anyone else.

“Why my questions are different depending on the way you turn.”

You release a heavy laugh, eyes darting around like a madwoman. What will it be? A comet? A criminal? The building itself crumbling? You’d think a person would know what to expect after…nineteen? twenty? however-many-the-fuck-days. “You shit. That’s why you’ve been telling me to ask you stuff each day. Clever little birdbrain.”

A fly barely gets into the fray before a crimson feather wraps around it and tosses it to the side. Hawks does many things, but taking chances when it comes to doing his job isn’t one of them, apparently. Not that this is his job. Or at least you didn’t ask for it to be if he’s making it his personal mission to ensure you live that’s on him and only him.

“So why?”

“Oh, I’m not gonna tell you.”

“What!? Why not?”

“Because now there’s at least one piece of info that you won’t know and can’t parrot to poor tomorrow me.” He grins, showing you his stupid pearly whites. “Sucks to suck.”

“Fuck you.” You flip him off. “I’ll just manipulate it out of you tomorrow.”

Hawks’ voice comes out in a song—only this bitch would somehow find a way to one-up you when you’re literally immortal. “No, you woooon’t, songbird. Oh, hey!” He holds up his phone. “4:01!”

“4:01?” Your eyes bulge.

“Four o fucking one!”

“4:01!” you shriek happily, throwing yourself into his arms. Hawks squeezes you tight, burying his face in your hair like you two are the parents of some graduating high school student who was also the class president as THOUGH your combined genes would ever create such a genius.

Hawks is warm.

A plane fucking crashes into you. He’s miraculously spared.

Bitch.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x you #keigo takami x you #takami keigo x you #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x you #boku no hero academia x you #ckc fic #valkyrie stories

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freebirdyance · 1 year

Note

Dearest Yancy,

It's the middle of the night as I write this, and I'm about to head off to bed. You're still not home, but that's okay. Because I know that you know that I love you... and that's enough to keep me company. Though I will say that I miss your arms around me from time to time.

Today could've been better. Someone in the studio got angry at me, and I may or may not have bought them lunch to try and soothe their anger a bit. I know we talked about that behavior, but I couldbt help it. Old habits die hard.

Yandere's been asking where you were. When you get back, she wants to show you her new katana moves. I don't know where she found a katana, but knowing her, I'm not the least bit surprised. Bing's been wanting to show you some lyrics to a song he wrote. After reviewing it myself, it was certainly... a piece of writing. And don't tell them I told you this, but the Jim's are plotting a prank for your return. They didn't say what it was, so this will be a warning.

Every time I miss you, I look at my bracelets. I look into that little crystal ball, and see us together... and I remember why I love you more than anyone. And I can't wait to see that smile in person once more.

I love you, Yancy.

💖

Wilford

My wonderful muse,

I could dedicate this entire letter and dozens more pages to telling you just how much I miss you, and it still wouldn't be enough. When I first got out on parole, I could barely sleep because the bed felt way too big to possibly be mine. Now, it's too big because you ain't next to me when I wake up.

I want you to know how thankful I am for your support on this. Being granted a chance to take a trip like this due to good behavior on my parole is something I wanted to take advantage of. Please know I wanted nothing more than to take you with me, but... well, rules and regulations wouldn't allow it. And I'm sorry you had a rough day. You got such a kind heart, only ever wanting to make others around you happy. I can't blame you for that... but I'll be more than happy to talk to this person myself when I get back if you need me to.

I'd love to watch Yandere's new moves! From a safe distance, of course. And tell Bing that I'll happily look over what he's got and give him some notes if he wants. And good God, thank you for that warning, my love. The Jim's are sneaky when they wanna be, so I'll make sure to watch my back around them.

Oh, I got to go to the zoo for the first time today! Holy shit, you don't know how big some animals are until they're RIGHT THERE. I sent some pictures of me at the elephant enclosure and the exotic bird exhibit (thought it was fitting to hang out with some actual songbirds heheh). As you can see, I got my hair trimmed. Does it look alright?

Baby, I miss you like crazy. All I wanna do is hold and kiss you when I get back. And... well, we're long overdue for a nice night out I think. You deserve it for how patient and kind you've been to me. I love you more than anything, my beautiful muse. I'll be home before you know it.

Yours always,

Yancy

#yancy will return soon :)#thanks for writin' (ask)#jailhouse blues and bubblegum hues (yanceford)

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bylertruther · 7 months

Note

can i hear all of your thoughts on the ballad of songbirds and snakes? 👀

no ❤️ hehe ofc! this is just going to be a braindump bc it's been a while, but here are my thoughts! (under a read-more bc i be talkin)

first, i'd like to say that i was never one of those people that went ugh 🙄 who wants to hear about the bad guy 🙄. never! not even a little bit. snow was one of my favorites and i thoroughly LOVED every scene he was in. years later, those are the ones that stand out to me every time. also, i felt that collins had done a superb job of showing her understanding of such topics and her literary prowess, so even on a more technical note, i still couldn't understand why people were disappointed or thought it would be a fluff piece.

moving on to the book itself now: i liked this book because of snow 🤍 and the way it approached certain themes, like poverty and war and the politics stemming from both.

every page felt gripping to me, because snow is very much a Thinker^tm. a plotter. a schemer. he can never not be present, not even just in the moment, but in both the past and the future, too. he has this dogged persistence that was refreshing to me, bc it's very different to how katniss felt as someone that was thrust into something she never wanted in the first place. katniss was born into poverty and largely accepted that, bc she had no choice. snow was not, and thus can not accept this fate for himself, and fights it every step of the way.

as for poverty, i don't think that a lot of people understand just how much it can influence not just your entire life, but also the lives of your children should you keep the cycle going. it's something that demands to be known and dealt with; something that dictates how every little interaction with the world can or will go. it's especially brutal if you haven't always been poor or if you live in an area with such wealth inequality, like snow.

the importance and constant presence and reminder of hunger / food, appearances / clothes, outside mannerisms / internal monologue, drive / desperation, and the reasoning behind snow's actions make this exceptionally clear, i feel. you're not allowed to forget, not even for a moment, because snow can never forget. he also can't afford to, because his future and his social standing within society depends on it. he simply has no choice in the matter, esp not with his obsessive tendencies.

we're reminded again and again that snow doesn't have the same safety net as his peers. he has to be the best and he has to fight for everything, because otherwise he won't be able to pursue higher education and has no way of moving up. every decision that he makes is informed by that. when he sways, he inevitably remembers what it's like to be poor, and quickly shifts gears.

he remembers the war. he remembers all that he lost. he remembers what they had to do to survive. he carries that with him all the time. he's always going to look out for himself and ultimately do what's in his best interest, because there is no one that's able to do that for him. he has to do that not just for himself, but his family, too. you don't have to agree with him and the many justifications he makes for himself, but he is fighting his own fight the same way that other characters like katniss and gale were.

i'm reminded of this quote from lucy herself:

"people aren't so bad, really," she said. "it's what the world does to them. like us in the arena. we did things in there we'd never have considered if they'd just left us alone."

and i don't say this to excuse the things he does, or later goes on to do, but to reiterate that throughout the entirety of this book, snow is in a fight for survival. he even says that what he sees in district twelve reminds him of his time in the arena. of course, he's twisted this into a justification of his superiority, but he's acknowledging this point, and adding that "it takes very little to bring the beast to the surface."

like. everyone reacts to hardship and war differently. you have characters like gale and snow. you have characters like tigress, peeta, and sejanus. and you have characters like katniss and lucy gray.

there are millions of people in the world that wish to escape the boot. and there are many that when they do, rather than throwing it out entirely, they make the conscious decision to put it on themselves be the one to do the stepping this time. i don't agree with it, but i find it endlessly fascinating, because of how human it is. many people respond to cruelty with cruelty—eye for an eye—and justify it to themselves by equating it to order.

i also just loved, loved, loved how she dived into war and post-war society, too. the things people are willing to do to survive (cannibalism, crime, sex work, etc). what happens afterward (no-waste policies/culture, the winner imposes retaliatory violence and sanctions against the loser, propaganda culture, hostility and prejudice between opposing groups / classes, ptsd, restructuring society in such a way that it cannot happen again, etc).

it's like. i just. clenches fist. i love it when there are reasons behind evil. snow wasn't born that way—he was made. circumstance and his own decision-making along the way are what make him the man he is. there are many moments within the story that show you that he is capable of feeling things for others, many points where he does struggle to make a decision, and many points where he struggles even after making that decision, that show you that he is incredibly and undoubtedly human. that anyone is capable of being like him. that there are many people in this world that are just like him. this story is every bit as human and real and fascinating as the first three books were, and it didn't even need fantasy elements to make it so, bc it's just Real Life.

i focused on snow here bc he's my favorite, but i also really enjoyed sejanus and lucy gray, too. the tragedy of sejanus and his inability to be anything but himself is chef's kiss. when he cries out for his ma? omfg. SINISTER!!!!!!!!!!!! EVIL, EVIL, EVIL. and so real. and lucy gray is just that girl, that character, the One. if she were a vine, it'd be this one: "i'm a bad bitch you can't kill me". it didn't matter what snow did, bc she lived on despite his efforts and got the last laugh. "it's the things we love most that destroy us" #true but also not true bc he brought all that on himself, not her. and there are many such dr gauls in the world, too, trying their best to poison enough minds that it keeps their machine going even after they're gone. many such people that don't know when to stop or more accurately simply don't care to.

anyway. i loved it <3 loved it so much tht it bumped snow up to number 1 fave of the series and made me weep n wail bc i need more content from ms collins immediately </3

#asks

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

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Then there’s Niki’s room. And Wilbur continues to be amazed by anything Niki does. And it’s funny because Niki thinks that actual flowers and the wealth are better, whereas all Wilbur cares about is the freedom and the joy of Niki’s painted flowers. The imperfections that make it human rather than the perfectly controlled flowers of his glorified prison.

Then there’s the birds. Wilbur longs to be like the birds. I am loving the bird metaphors. Wilbur not so much. He’d rather not have a bird in his chest. [“I think it’s a nice reminder not to underestimate people,” Niki said, flipping to another page in her sketchbook. “If you push someone too far, even the prettiest songbird could impale you.”] I wonder if that’s a dig at Wilbur’s past murder attempt on Tommy or Niki describing herself.

No way to know cuz Ponk interrupts. And this is another advantage of Tommy not being there. He would have been more protective of Wilbur and probably a little aggressive towards Ponk. Niki has a different personality. While she’s still wary and a little protective, she was probably just trying to avoid more conflict. She’s also willing to push a lot farther than Tommy would have let Wilbur be pushed. I don’t think Tommy would have let Ponk do a check-up. Though that’s probably because Tommy is better at reading Wilbur’s discomfort. (or thinks he is).

And then we get another display of people realising how fuck-up Wilbur is and Wikburnnot getting why they are sad. Like he doesn’f get why he doesn’f get a bottle of pills, not that he wanted them in the first place, but Ponk and Niki very clearly think that Wilbur’s suicidal. While we know that the reason he ‘wanted’ them to kill him is because he knows he couldn’t kill himself. He doesn’t want to die, he just doesn’t really want to live the life he’s living right now. But at this point, he doesn’t want to go back to the palace and his old life either.

Anyway, Niki and Ponk are tag teaming Wilbur into better health through a combination of doing a mild check-up by asking for things step by step or by travelling about the headaches. This includes several more realisations of this dude is not okay such as: what do you mean you have constant headaches and you aren’t taking painkillers and weren’t planning to tell me? What do you mean it’s your entire head? Why is your heart rate so fast? How much anxiety do you have?

Also, gotta love Ponk completely ignoring that Wilbur had a panic attack a few days before and not asking follow-up questions in favour of telling Wilbur he can help of they get more frequent. Overall it’s a very great example that the Deathlings aren’t monsters. They are people with empathy. Also the whole ‘wanting Wilbur dead thing’ gets cleared up, in that no one actually wanted him dead, they where more debating whether or not they had the luxury of keeping him alive. It also shows that Wi, but argeong with that side that wanted to kill him had a lot of lasting “oh fuck” impact.

-🌲

yes I wanted to show the contrast in their attitudes towards the flowers!! niki would love to see real plants and thinks they have to be way better than the imitations she paints on her walls. wilbur is amazed at how free and alive her paintings look, because picture perfect flowers planted in a neat row aren't really alive. not in a proper sense.

the bird metaphors are so fun to write. I'll let you interpret niki's line there how you like.

yeah if tommy was there ponk wouldn't have gotten through the damn doorway. tommy would've kept him far away from wilbur after the 'kill the pythia' debate, but niki is different like you said. part of it is also that while i didnt get a chance to show it, niki and ponk are very good friends. like, she's definitely closer with ponk than she is with sam for example. so she trusts ponk not to do anything and encourages the check up because she knows the pythia hasn't been seen by ponk yet. at least not in an actual doctor-sense.

to be fair when you're debating whether or not to kill a guy and he goes "yeah actually you should kill me it's for the best" you're gonna think he's suicidal too. poor wilbur didn't even pick up on that with the bottle of pills thing. tbh he'd probably be fine with the pills now, though of course niki and ponk don't know that. a week earlier though? yeah you 100% couldn't trust him with those.

poor ponk is just getting more and more concerned for their prisoner as the check up goes on. he took his heart rate and had to stop himself from cursing out loud because of how high it was.

look ponk could tell wilbur wasn't really comfortable with the whole check up as it was, so he had a feeling that the panic attack wasn't something he was going to want to talk about. also, ponk isn't a psychiatrist. he technically has to act as one since he's the closest thing they have, but his specialty is with more standard internal medicine hence why he just decides to focus on the panic attack as a physical symptom.

but yeah the deathlings aren't monsters. the debate definitely fucked with wilbur's head, but no one meant for it to get as blunt and aggressive as it did.

#ask #spruce anon #through a glass divine

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west-tokyo-incidents · 9 months

Text

Frozen Needles: Part 5

She woke up.

He can vaguely hear Desir pacing a few hundred feet away, angry and muttering about her being a traitor. About how stupid he was to have trusted Vice or anyone like him.

With a panic and a yanking of cords out of herself, her first words are asking for something to write shit down onto.

A rapidly drawn map of the place she'd been. A list of potential allies. A list of absolute enemies.

Terms and names for different instances on "The Mountain" as she names it at the top of the map.

Dubois watches her intently.

It's the Alps, he knows that much. And the Alps have lakes, that much is true... But he doesn't recognize that one.

She rips out the map and hands it to Songbird, then begins listing out everything else she knows on paper.

Songbird takes the map and begins to study it. It's hastily drawn, but Click is part of recon for a good reason. And as a scout, map making is one of her specialties. It's easily read and Songbird starts committing it to memory. If Click thinks they need a map, then she needs to know it.

The hunting grounds, the lake, the cliff face, the outer forest, places to avoid. Margins she wrote indicated dangers in those places. Specific powerful instances' hunting grounds.

She hands it off to Taglamig, who begins to do the same.

As she does, Click is handing a page to Dubois. A more in-depth list of dangers and how to get around them, she assumes.

"We've found their nest. We just have to get deeper to get rid of their bodies." Songbird sits down near her, setting a hand on Click's leg to try and calm her frantic movements.

"Doesn't matter." Click's words come rapidly, "If they're asleep or unconscious when you kill them, they'll still be on the Mountain." She begins a list, "Goldie--the parasite-timeline's Fusataro--was dead long before she possessed the host timeline's instance. Desir and Rage are both dead in the original timeline, too."

"What about the good douji?"

"Not there." She shakes her head, "The Kingsnake takes people specifically. If he doesn't want someone there, they don't go."

She hands another page to Songbird. This one lists identifying traits of the instances there and their names.

"There's something else there. In the lake. The Kingsnake let me wake up because he knows it's beyond him. We have a chance to talk to him."

"He tried to kill you." Dubois crosses his arms

"What?" She blinks, "When?"

"He used the host-timeline's Paresse to wake up here. Tried to attack you. We were able to subdue him without killing the body. It's in higher level security now."

"..." She pauses, "How long was he here?"

"Approximately ten minutes."

She scowls, but nods. That tracks.

"He knows a threat when he sees one. He probably realized we're stronger then he realized." She taps a nail at her chin.

Nail.

She looks down at her hand, then at her body. It finally clicks in her head that she's back to normal. She flexes her mechanical turtle-claws on her feet. Then she shakes her head.

"Sorry. He wants to try and use us to get rid of whatever threat is in the lake. He's agreed to let other scouts in, but he won't allow any replication of our weapons or tools."

Songbird nods. She gets the message. Watch for manipulation.

"What's in the lake?" Dubois asks, though he suspects the answer is 'I don't know.'

"The others."

Dubois' eyebrows raise just a hair.

"When the Kingsnake drowns someone in the lake, their bodies become detached from their souls and free to possession. But when they become detached there... Something happens to them." Click shakes her head, "I don't know what, but there's this... Sense of satisfaction. Like they're indescribably happy about where they are."

"Cross needs to go, then." Songbird looks over at Dubois, "If they're souls, then he'll sense them best."

Dubois nods his agreement. Then he looks to Click, "Would you be willing to guide him to the Lake?"

She hesitates. Songbird gently squeezes her thigh.

"Yes. But only if I can get some real sleep back in the Facility first."

-----

Rage stares at the lake, laid on a rock on the edge of the tree line.

Rage just holds his gaze steady at the center of the lake.

The whole mountain is holding its breath.

Desir doesn't get it. Of course he doesn't. Too lost in the sensation of betrayal. Rage lets out a huff, and rests his head on his gauntlets.

Whatever Click saw, so had the Kingsnake. And he'd agreed to let her wake up.

It hurts, breathing through hyper-fragile vocal cords and sinuses exposed down to the bone. He thought he'd stopped feeling it a long time ago, but...

In this stagnant, precarious silence...

There's little else to distract him.

-----

Golden claws click and flex. Angry. The edges of the blades brush the snow and it hisses from the heat.

Her eyes focus on the form of her Rage, across the lake, in full view. What a bold position he's in. If she wanted to, she could just...

She clenches her claws into a fist.

No. He's not worth it. She looks away from him and flexes her claws back out to relax them.

Maybe if she hadn't recently eaten. Maybe if there wasn't another burning rage rattling around in her skull.

"Fusataro."

She doesn't turn to look at Jealousy, his hulking arachnid form towering over her in the trees. But she responds with a snarl, "What?"

"You ought to be careful with your thoughts."

"He's a coward." She snaps back at him.

"...Rage or the Kingsnake?"

Well, it's certainly not Rage. Out boldly in full view, after years of barely haunting the edges of the mountain, he dares show his face so close to the lake.

She just huffs out of her nostrils.

"It hasn't even done anything." Her eyes flick to the lake, "And who cares about the space cops?"

"The Kingsnake, clearly."

She snorts through her nose, "And he's a coward for it. He killed our Vice and our Ultimo in the waking world. How hard is it to do that again? He was only awake for ten minutes with them."

"And ten minutes was enough."

Fusataro just rolls her eyes.

#ress writes #the facility: frozen needles

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amerrierworld · 1 year

Text

brain.

I chewed the end of my pencil’s eraser, the flavour off-putting but not unwelcome. Looking at my pile of drafts and blurb prompts, the brief inkling of my motivation that I had earlier seemed to be slipping away.

“You know, this would be a lot easier if I became obsessed with something new again, quickly,” I grumbled, abusing the delete button on my keyboard as I rewrote a sentence again.

“What’s wrong with the things you’re currently obsessed with?” A low chuckle came from the other side of the room. Lou stepped through the doorway and to the side of my desk, planting reassuring hands on my shoulders. “Just write another steamy fic about me... You’ve got plenty already.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to just write about you, no matter how much I love writing about you,” I look up at her and she tuts, stealing the pencil from my mouth. “I have to keep up with different things!”

“Well, you keep promising them you’ll write more about us,” Hela grumbled from the couch in the back of the room, pointing between her and Alcina, who was hunched over uncomfortably in the small office space. “How many parts does Babysitter still need to finish the story, hm?”

“Don’t start,” I groaned, hiding my face with my hands.

“And Songbird was supposed to be just three parts, right? Now what, you’ve given yourself about ten total? You think you’ll have the stamina for that?” The Countess added.

“You’re not helping! Any of you!” I snapped, closing my laptop and getting up. “I need a drink.”

“I hope it’s one of my brands,” Alcina commented. “You know they’re the best.”

“I don’t drink blood-wine, Alci.”

Lou, trusty Lou, followed me around the elaborate palace of writing I had constructed for myself, flicking through a notebook of drafts and characters from my recent writings.

“You really stuck around with this, didn’t you?” She gestured to the pages of scribbles.

“What?” I asked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet in the kitchen.

“Me, Debs, Hela, Carol, Alci, basically everything Cate Blanchett played and then some.”

“Oh, shut up,” I growled. “I wrote about some other characters too you know!”

“Yeah, years ago,” Thorin muttered, sitting at the kitchen island next to Obi-Wan. “We both barely got any mention. Fili’s story took years to finish, didn't it?”

“Boys, I promise I still love all of you. It’s just that the women characters have been more on my mind recently.”

“Well, you haven’t written about all of Cate’s characters,” Valka muttered, and Bernadette nodded. “When are you gonna invite Lydia in?”

“When I have the stamina to even begin thinking about such a complex character! I could barely write one fic about Lilith as it is!”

“Oh, sorry, we’re not complex enough for ya!” Karl snarled, chugging back my entire last bottle of wine. “This is shit, by the way.”

“Hey! That was my last bottle.”

“This is your dream, just think up another,” he scoffed, chucking the bottle into the sink.

“Just pick something! Anything will work, and to be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t written about me yet,” Legolas sat perched on one of the tables, fiddling with the ends of one of his arrows. “There’s loads in Fellowship you could write on.”

“Jesus Christ, where’d you come from? And no, I can’t just pick something! I need a good explanation for my insane hiatus... again!”

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” Bernadette replied. “The loyal fans will understand.”

“Don’t call them fans,” I muttered. “I feel weird thinking that people out there actually enjoy my writing.”

“Besides,” she kept going, “You’ve been coming and going as you please anyways since the start! Isn’t that indicative enough that you can take all the time you need if you need it?”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty though!” I sighed. “I feel like I owe my writing another piece. Something good. But that’s scary, because what the hell is supposed to be good? And what if no one reads it? It’s not even a ground-breaking novel, it’s just silly little paragraphs about characters that aren’t even mine.”

“So what?” Lou crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway -- her best place to pose. “You like writing it, so write it. Doesn’t matter if people read it. You don’t even have to post it, if you don’t want.”

Galadriel walked in beside her, hands deftly clasped in front of her. “There’s plenty to write about, meleth-nin. You’ll find something. If it’s not a fic like this, maybe something else. And if something is unfinished, let it be. That’s what the process is for.”

I opened the kitchen cabinet, and sure enough, there was another bottle of wine. But, instead, I reached for the apple juice next to it. It was nice and cold, despite not being in the fridge. God, I loved imagining things.

“I could write more smut -- people like reading it, and it’s fun to write,” I shrugged after chugging half a glass. “But what if I should try something more? Maybe a couple parts to a story, like in dreams, but just stop it after a few, and not force myself to think of it as a massive novel with endless chapters? That’s what happened with Babysitter... I had a fantastic idea and now I’m scared to take it somewhere.”

“Maybe one day you’ll finish the big ones,” Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard from the table. “You could always try a different series that you’ve already seen, watched, and loved. Maybe that’ll get the ball rolling. There’s lots more to Star Wars than just me.”

“I know, but I love you,” I pouted. “And Star Wars is massive!”

“So is Tolkien,” Thorin shrugged. “You’ve written about us plenty.”

“Could’ve written about me,” Loki grinned. “You basically did, of course, but you made me more the side-character. I think I would do really well as the protagonist--”

“Maybe take the time to watch new stuff, you know, the things you keep saying you’ll get into, but then don't?” Debbie suggested, pulling out a massive list of my to-be-watched and to-be-read. I pouted again, I wanted to, but had no idea where to start.

They had all entered the dining room now, Alci sitting on the floor to make room for her head. And they all looked at me expectantly. There was a typewriter on the table.

“Oh, no, absolutely not. I’m not writing something while you’re all sitting here watching me.”

“Well, what’ll it be then?” Hela countered. “You’re gonna finish this fic and be done for the day -- or should I say, year?”

“I don’t know what to write about!”

“Write about this,” Bernadette said, gesturing wildly around the room. “And then maybe something new will happen after.”

“You know, this is definitely a fever dream,” I grumbled. “I could never look a so many of Cate Blanchett’s characters at once and be able to form complete sentences.”

Three peculiar flies landed around the typewriter, buzzing haphazardly. Alcina shooed them away and the three daughters materialized, hanging from the chandelier.

“If you break that, you’ll pay for it!” I warned.

“If we break it, that means you made us break it!” Cassandra cackled. “Can’t win, sweetie. Not even in your own daydreams.”

“No, I suppose not,” I slumped in the chair and looked at the blank page. “Writing fic isn’t meant to feel like a chore, right?”

“Don’t ask us, we’re not writers,” Karl grumbled, sitting at a plate of hot food piled high.

“Where did that come from?” I gaped. He wagged a finger in the air in thought while chewing a massive piece of steak.

“Hmn, I think... you might be hungry. Best get some fuel when you wake up.”

“But first,” Carol said softly, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Write something. Anything. Any word.”

I thought for a moment, the clock in the hall ticking loudly. Fuck it.

brain.

#word vomit #thought dump #merry writes #can you spot all the characters

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heavensbeehall · 1 month

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"The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes," Chapter 2

Part I: The Mentor

Chapter 2. Snow dislikes Sejanus. Lucy Gray Baird is reaped in District 12. A snake meets Mayfair Lipp. Lucy Gray sings. Jessup Diggs is reaped. Coriolanus wants to eat the food (which is the only thing I understand about him). He thinks about Nero Price's cannibalism and Pluribus's canned lima beans. He has a confrontation with Dean Highbottom over apple pie. "The Hunger Games" series is nothing if not a cautionary tale about adults beefing with teenagers.

Thoughts:

-- Does the Capitol not have like trade jobs? Coriolanus thinks he'd be better off dead than not going to university. Sure, that's how teenagers think a lot of the time. Ugh, he should've gone into fashion with Tigris. She's the one with a moral compass.

Quotes:

So ten years in the Capitol and the privileged life it provided had been wasted on Sejanus. He still thought of himself as a district citizen. Sentimental nonsense.

I think the "sentimental nonsense" comment is odd. I mean, it's odd that he feels Sejanus' life has been wasted simply because he still considers himself "District." But the sentimental part suggests the Capitol doesn't believe in, like, coming from a place. It makes me wonder if any "cultural" ties are considered nonsense the way religion seems to be (as we talked about in the previous book).

The seal dissolved to show President Ravinstill, his hair streaked with silver, dressed in his prewar military uniform as a reminder that he’d been controlling the districts long before the Dark Days of the rebellion.

Ravinstill is the only President we encounter besides Snow (unless you count Paylor). He seems to be more of a military figure than Snow is in the future. I would like to know how the Presidents are chosen.

“Don’t cry,” Coriolanus whispered. He caught himself and looked around nervously to find that the other students were riveted. Their faces showed concern. She had won their sympathy, despite her oddness.

It's the other students who are riveted or feel sympathy for Lucy Gray. Not Coriolanus. Though he does like her singing.

During the war, the rebels had held the food-producing districts. Taking a page out of the Capitol’s playbook, they’d tried to starve the Capitol into vsubmission using food — or a lack thereof — as a weapon.

Is this where "Hunger Games" comes from? It's the punishment for making the Capitol starve?

It fell to eight-year-old Tigris to boil the beans to the thick stew, then the soup, then the watery broth, which was to sustain them throughout the war.

Tigris was even younger than Katniss when she had to take charge of a family of three at age 11.

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tigris snow #coriolanus snow

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fenimores-book-nook · 5 months

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Quatrième jour d'écriture sur les soins personnels

(Day four of self care writing ;) )

November 17th ~ 2023 *FRIDAY*

If you couldn't tell through my text, I'm very happy that it is Friday. It's not only the last day that I work this week, but it's alsoooooooo OPENING NIGHT FOR THE MOVIE, THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES, AHHHHH! I've been looking forward to this movie ever since I heard a new Hunger Games movie was coming out. And even more so after I read the book. Which is most definitely in my top three favorite books. :3 I'm planning on going to the theater in my town with a couple of my friends. As well as, because I'm a nerd, I'm bringing along one of my copies of the books. (yes, one of, I own two copies) 'Cause wouldn't it be fun to write my thoughts down in it and have everyone that I saw it with sign it? Yes. Yes it would. And who knows? Maybe the actors or the author will show up, I don't want to be unprepared. (haha, I wish)

So, I am looking forward to THAT. You better believe I will be having a post or thoughts that I wanna get out here about it. Don't worry, I'll make sure I put "spoiler warning" if I include any. ;)

(pinterest, obviously)

I've noticed in my last two (I think) self care writings I didn't really start it with a greeting, but you know what? I think that's okay. Happy morning, if it is also morning for you, if not, afternoon or evening! It's 10:29 am currently, for me. I have been in the mood to write all morning, so I started out with journaling in my notebook which I realize I've never posted a photo of my journal. Really, I switch between notebooks quite often. It's just whatever I feel at the moment, what kind of notebook I want to match my feelings. :)

Now, since I like making lists and answering some questions, we're gonna do something like that. :)) (plus, self-care writings, of course)

(this is a part of the "night journaling" one that I've done before :) )

How am I ~ I'm doing okay. I think I feel about the same as I did yesterday, but that isn't bad, I don't feel worse! And that's a victory worth celebrating. :)

Today's goals ~ Keep an optimistic mood throughout the day! Talk to one of my close friends about some struggles that I think they could relate to. (even if it's something not so good to experience, having someone to relate with helps with not feeling so lonely tremendously)

Experience goals fully ~ If I'm feeling my mood dip down, do something to clear my mind and get the good feelings going again! Even if it's just to feel some sort of comfort; read a comfort book! And even if my friend ends up not being able to relate with me, still look at talking to someone as a victory. It can be really hard to talk about feelings sometimes, so don't forget about those steps!

Gratitude ~ I'm grateful for my sister, I love how much we talk even with her not living at home anymore. It's fun to just talk about books or just about life with her. I'm also grateful for Christmas music because it's such a cozy type of music. :)

Affirmations ~ Even though it feels sucky right now, it doesn't mean it's going to feel like that forever. This is just temporary. It's only a chapter, or even just a few pages; not your entire book.

To-do today ~ DECORATE MY ROOM FOR CHRISTMAS!* Yes, I'm one of those people that decorates for Christmas before Thanksgiving. Although, you could've come to that conclusion on your own with my other posts. ;) Do some house cleaning things after work. Go see The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes at 7:30 tonight!! And REST! The past couple days have been kind of busy, so take time to recharge. <3

*I didn't end up decorating today but I am going to try to do it this weekend. Hopefully the motivation will be there! ;)

Christmassy photo from last night. :)

Fast forward (I've been doing that a lot lately) quite a bit to now: 11:50 pm, yes. I have watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. *screaming internally* And as much as I want to just spill my guts on everything about it, I am also very tired. So we'll leave off with one more self-care thing and say goodnight. ;)

One thing that happened today that I'm grateful for. (that I feel like helped my mental health)

I face-timed one of my closest friends and talked about something that has been bothering me for several days now. And she not only was a great listener but it helped so, so much that she could relate to it. And we discussed different things that I had been wondering about too. I feel like that talk made me feel more secure in that friendship and gave me a sort of peace with the whole situation. (very grateful for her <3)

And with that, I hope you have a great night and...

jusqu'à la prochaine fois,

Thalia <3

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #journaling #blog #self care writing series #mental health #gratitude #day four

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seijorhi · 3 years

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Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand.

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected.

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby.

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute.

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’.

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind.

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency.

Hizashi was not, and so here they are.

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness.

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you.

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd.

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks.

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them.

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent.

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :(

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him.

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself.

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm?

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy.

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it.

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off.

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him.

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would.

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either.

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.”

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.”

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause.

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face.

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight.

It bothers him.

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no.

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant.

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?”

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly.

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump.

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless.

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach.

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run – and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick.

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace.

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least.

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true.

It’s just not the entire reason.

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length.

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong.

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them.

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with.

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side.

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust.

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch.

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more.

He wants all of you.

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them.

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder.

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own.

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too?

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them.

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open.

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you.

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy.

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue.

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants.

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss.

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

#yandere bnha #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #shouta aizawa x hizashi yamada x reader #tw non con #tw pregnancy #tw breeding kink #tw age gap #oh my god it's like 5am why do i keep doing this to myself

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