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piedinthepiper · 28 days

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Before: Disease ˖ ⊹

Yandere!jimin x bully!reader

Summary: Before everything went down in his doctors office

Warnings: bullying, mention of smut, swearing

Wc: 2.1 k

A/n: someone requested the backstory to disease, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it!

This can be read as both a pt. 1 or pt. 2 to Disease. They can also be read separately, you decide!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

How could you be so perfect? Walking down the halls with your books tucked close to your chest. Talking and casually laughing with one of your friends. You always walked front and center. Like you were the mean girl. But you weren’t. Or you were, but he didn’t mind. You were his mean girl. You were the only reason Jimin hadn’t dropped out of school yet. He actually looked forward to every day now. Knowing that he’d see you. And if he was lucky he would maybe even get to talk to you. Or more you talk to him. Yell at him. Call him names and insult him. That’s what he loved so much about you. Your honesty. Always so straight forward. You were just perfect. Gorgeous. Always in skirts, sometimes they were really short. Not that he looked or anything, he was sure you would kill him if you found that out. But he was a man wasn’t he? What’s wrong about admiring a good pair of legs? You wanted to show them off didn’t you? He wondered if it was for him. If you knew the effect you had on him. The way he would think about you while touching himself. Pretending to fuck you pretty pussy instead of his cold hands. He knew it would happen one day. One day you would realise that the two of you were meant to be. He had known that since the day he met you. He would never forget that day.

“Watch it, nerd.”

The three first words you ever spoke to him. Jimin stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder to see who he bumped into, but also who that angelic voice belonged to. He was met with you. The most beautiful eyes he’s ever looked into. He stood there in awe. Taking in all your features. Eyes trailing up and down your body. Once he reached your eyes again he saw that your perfectly shaped eyebrows were frowning.

“Eww what’s wrong with you?!”

You asked sounding almost disgusted.

“Did you see the way he looked at me? Oh my god.”

You asked your friends who all looked even more disgusted than you.

“You could at least say sorry you know?”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“I- I-. You’re pathetic.”

You mocked him before turning around and walking away.

“Watch where you’re going next time loser.”

One of your friends added before she joined the rest. He didn’t care for your friends. All he could think about was you. Your words who were supposed to hurt him, had another impact. All he wanted to hear was your voice again.

Three years later his feelings were still the same. Your bond had only grown stronger after that eventful day. Your relationship had become a daily thing, and he couldn’t be more happy.

“God you’re such a nerd.”

You said as you sat down opposite of him, throwing your bag onto the floor next to you. He was studying for the next science exam in the library, one of the places he never thought he’d meet you. Not that he didn’t think you read or anything. It just didn’t suit you. You were too gorgeous to be surrounded by yellowing walls and cheap plastic chairs.

“Y/n!”

He said your name a little too excited, and was met with yet another disgusted facial expression.

“Anyways… you’re going to help me.”

You said.

“Sure. I’ll help you.”

You scoffed at his answer.

“It wasn’t a question.”

You added mockingly.

“You see, I need to pass the science exam. And the only one I know that has a miserable enough life to even care about science is you.”

He tried his best to hide his growing smile. You addressed him as someone you know. You think about him!

“I can make you pass.”

“You better.”

You got up from the chair and brushed off imaginary dust from your skirt.

“When you’re finished you’ll switch papers with me. I’ll make sure we’re seated next to each other.”

He was too busy checking out your figure to even comprehend what you were saying at that moment. You snapped your fingers at him.

“Hello? Stop fucking looking at me, freak.”

You said, and brought him back from his thoughts. That’s when he understood the reality of your words. If he switched papers with you he would fail, and he couldn’t put his career at risk. No matter how much he loved you.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

He stated and looked up at you, scared of what you would say next. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Again, it wasn’t a question.”

He got up from his chair when he saw you were about to turn around and leave.

“Seriously, y/n. I can’t fail. I won’t get into-“

“Blah blah blah. Does it look like I care? You’ll do as I say.”

You interrupted him. He gulped at your tone, sometimes you could be really scary.

“But-“

“Listen here, dumbass.”

You suddenly reached over the table and grabbed him by his collar.

“How hard is it to get into your thick skull, huh?You don’t want to know what I’ll do if you don’t do as I say. Alright?”

He nodded carefully, and you let him go. You stayed bent over the table though. Jimin couldn’t help but look at your prominent cleavage. You slowly moved your hand to his face, he was ready to feel the embrace of your hand. He closed his eyes waiting for the moment, but was met with the sudden feeling of his glasses being slipped off his nose. He looked at you again, confused.

“Take this as a warning.”

You said coldly and threw the glasses on the grown. Thankfully they didn’t break. But the feeling of relief suddenly stopped as he watched your foot stomp down onto them. The sound of broken glass was heard through the library. He let out a little gasp.

“See you in a week.”

You said before you walked away, swaying your hips as you exited the library. What the fuck was he going to do?

He knew he had to help you. He didn’t want to end up with a broken nose, even if it meant you would put your hands on him. Besides he’d do anything to help you succeed. Maybe he would even get a thank you? He thought, bringing the science book even closer to his face. You had broken his glasses, a bit unnecessary in his opinion, but he won’t question your judgment. In order to study he had to have the book so close to his face he could feel it brush against his nose. He had come up with a plan though. If he studied even harder he could be able to finish your test super quick, and then he could just fill out the same answers on his own. It was his only option. So now he sat in his dark room with only the small table lamp lit. Book in his face as he desperately tried to remember everything for the exam.

He walked into the classroom, mentally going through all the information he read the night before. He saw you in the back. A finger twirling your gorgeous shiny hair as you looked him up and down. The sight alone was enough for his pants to tighten. He moved his textbooks down to his hips so you wouldn’t see the effect you had on him.

“Nice glasses.”

You sarcastically said. Giving him an evil smile. He pushed his new glasses higher up on his nose as he sat down beside you.

“Not even a thank you? How rude you are, Jimin.”

He almost moaned out loud when he heard his name fall from your lips. You rarely used his name, so whenever he was lucky enough to hear it from you he would usually have to go to the toilet and jerk off. If only you knew what you did to him.

“I’m sorry.”

He mumbled. You just scoffed at him before crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair to listen to the teacher who started speaking.

The exam went great. He had to spend a few minutes on erasing your scribbles on his sheet. It wouldn’t be appropriate to hand in an exam with “nerd” written all over it. But it went well, you didn’t get caught and both of you would get a good grade. He couldn’t be more happy. Until he saw you approaching him. He was sat outside, eating his lunch in his usual spot. You would always eat with the rest of the popular people inside. You would never eat outside in a secluded area on the ground, that’s just not you. You wouldn’t hide, like he did. So he knew you didn’t come to join him. He quickly swallowed before you were able to talk to him. Ready to hear whatever you had to say. But you walked right passed him. He followed you and your friends with his gaze as he saw the three of you heading to the parking lot. He realised that he wouldn’t get a thank you, that he wouldn’t even get to talk to you after he just saved your ass.

“Stand up.”

He suddenly heard your voice coming from right beside him. He looked up to find you with your hands on your hips. A displeased look painted your face. Again, he swallowed before standing up.

“You fucking creep!”

You yelled at him before delivering a harsh slap to his face. He couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. He reached for his cheek that had already turned red. He looked at you and found your face was in pure shock. Did he really moan that loudly?

“Did he just-“

He heard one of your friends whisper to the other. His blood went cold, he had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. Your mouth turned slowly into a devilish smile.

“How fucking pathetic was that?”

You started laughing, and your friends followed. He tried to make himself smaller. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m s-sorry.”

He stuttered out and looked down at the ground. To his horror he found out that his pants was definitely bulging as well. He crossed his hands quickly over the area, not wanting to be tormented yet again. But it was too late. You looked him up and down.

“Please, don’t tell me you have a boner.”

You let out a small laugh, a “eww” was heard from your friend. You stepped closer to him. So close that his back had to press up against the concrete wall. You looked him deep in the eyes, your smile turning into a smirk. God, he felt like coming just from you being so close. Smelling your perfume and feeling your hands on his chest. His breathing rapidly increased.

“Do you think I’m hot, Jimin?”

You whispered to him. It took a few seconds for him to comprehend what you were saying. Too focused on the feeling of your manicured hands on him. Eventually he desperately he nodded.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

You asked with a small laugh. He couldn’t believe his ears. Was this his chance? Was this the moment he finally got you? He nodded yet again. You tsked at him as he felt your sharp nail tracing his cheekbone.

“Use your words.”

You said.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?”

He heard one of your friends say from behind you. He didn’t look at her, only taking you in. He couldn’t believe this.

“Shut up!”

You quickly looked at your friend. Warning her in a mean tone. You turned back to him. Finding his dark eyes.

“Jimin was just about to say something.”

He couldn’t even remember his own name in the moment. Every single one of his senses was filled with you. He feared he would actually orgasm soon if you didn’t back off.

“Please- Y/n. Yes, I want to fuck you so bad!”

He begged. Almost yelling at you out of desperation. In the next moment you were laughing. He didn’t understand what he did that was so funny. Maybe he had been a little too forward, but you didn’t seem to care about that in the first place.

“Oh god. You’re almost cute.”

You said as your fit of laughter came to a stop. You stepped away from him, crossing your arms.

“I would never ever fuck you, pervert.”

Your tone turned from sensual to mean right away. His heart dropped to his stomach as your friends laughed at him.

“You’re so dumb! You really thought you had a chance with me! I wouldn’t even blow you.”

Yet again he felt like he wanted to disappear. How could you be so evil? So absolutely heartless? In that moment he realised what he had to do. He was going to get his revenge one day. Just you wait.

——————————————————————————

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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 5 months

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“Forced marriage — in which one or both parties do not give full, free consent — is recognized globally as a form of modern slavery. My story is far from unique: Around the world, 22 million people were in a forced marriage as of 2021.

Yet, even though the United States acknowledges that forced marriage is a human rights abuse, few laws and policies are in place to prevent or punish it, and the nation has paid such scant attention to this issue that we do not even know how often forced marriage happens here.

What’s more, child marriage remains legal in most U.S. states, even though it is recognized as a form of forced marriage and a human rights abuse. Some 300,000 children were married in the U.S. between 2000 and 2018, mostly girls wed to adult men. At least 60,000 marriages occurred at an age or with a spousal age difference that should have been considered a sex crime.”

Note: The following essay contains descriptions of sexual assault and abuse.

They sent me off to be raped, with a party and a tube of K-Y Jelly.

The lubricant was to reduce the intense physical pain they explained I would endure while being penetrated by a stranger-turned-husband, without foreplay, without consent. Every month. Until death do us part.

The party — a low-budget wedding in 1995 at a Brooklyn venue aptly nicknamed Armpit Terrace — was to distract me from the horrific reality of my forced marriage to the stranger.

“Mazel tov!” they told me, beaming.

In the reclusive Orthodox Jewish community in New York City where I grew up, choices about whether, when and whom I would marry did not belong to me. At home and at the all-girls religious school I attended, where I learned to cook and sew and keep house, I was groomed from early childhood to expect a teen marriage to a stranger my family and a matchmaker would choose for me.

I was allowed to meet the stranger several times before my engagement, but I was not allowed to be alone with him nor to have any physical contact with him. I was a clueless 19-year-old who had never been allowed to “talk to a boy,” and suddenly I was given a matter of hours, over a period of a few weeks, to answer my family and his family and the matchmaker and everyone in the community standing there, tapping their feet, looking at their watches, waiting for me to tell them: You’ll marry this man we chose for you, right?

“No” was never really an option.

During my six-week engagement, I still was not allowed to be alone with the groom nor to have any physical contact with him, which left more time for me to begin experiencing the myriad other abuses that come with a forced marriage.

First, a virginity exam. The groom’s rabbi sent me to an Orthodox Jewish gynecologist, where I was instructed to disrobe, get on the examination table and put my feet in the stirrups. The doctor inserted her gloved fingers into my vagina and confirmed that my hymen was intact.

“Mazel tov!” she told me, beaming.

I attended one-on-one bridal classes, where the curriculum centered on the requirement that I have unprotected sex with my husband on my wedding night and on a monthly basis thereafter. A lifetime of rape.

Yes, the rapes probably would hurt, the bridal class teacher explained. Hence the K-Y Jelly.

“Mazel tov!” she told me, beaming.

My stranger-turned-husband turned out to be violent and abusive. I learned this exactly one week after our wedding, when he became enraged because he had woken up late, and he punched his fist through the wall — hard enough to leave a sizable hole.

His first threat to kill me came only days later. Soon these threats became more frequent, specific and gruesome. He was brimming with creative ideas for how he would end my life, and he took the time to describe them to me in vivid detail. A lifetime of fear.

Yet I was trapped.

My forced marital sex was carefully timed each month for when I was ovulating. The reason for this was obvious: My first child was born 11 months after my wedding, and soon I had a second child.

I love my daughters, but I did not consent to having them. A lifetime of forced parenthood.

This denial of sexual and reproductive rights was not the only shackle preventing me from leaving my marriage. My husband did not allow me to have my own bank account or credit card, and I was taught that, under Orthodox Jewish law, if my husband allowed me to work, any money I earned belonged to him. A lifetime of domestic servitude and financial dependence.

I had limited legal rights too. Under Orthodox Jewish law, only a man can grant a divorce. I, as a woman, did not have the legal right to end my own marriage. A lifetime of being locked in unwanted wedlock.

One escape route for me would have been to move back in with my family as an agunah, a “chained woman” who is bound to a husband who refuses her a divorce. The life of an agunah is brutal; she is shamed for her powerlessness, blamed for her failed marriage and treated as an outcast.

But even this dreadful escape route was closed to me, because my family refused to take me back in. A lifetime of betrayal.

So I remained trapped in my abusive forced marriage. In accordance with Orthodox Jewish law, I was considered “unclean” every time I menstruated. While I was “unclean,” I was prohibited from having physical contact with my husband, sleeping in the same bed as him, handing him anything or undressing or singing in front of him. A lifetime of shame.

Once my period ended, I needed to count seven “clean” days without any menstrual blood, during which time the rules against physical contact continued. To make sure I stayed “clean” for the full seven days, I was required to wear white panties and, twice a day, to insert a white cloth into my vagina, swish it around and inspect it in sunlight to make sure it did not have blood spots. If I found questionable marks on my panties and could not tell whether they were blood, the rabbi would inspect them and give his pronouncement.

And the rabbi would keep my panties. A lifetime of extreme patriarchy.

Each month, after the seven “clean” days, I was forced to strip naked in front of an attendant who watched me immerse in a mikvah, or a ritual bath of rainwater, which frequently left me with a yeast infection and always left me shaking uncontrollably. A lifetime of violation.

All I wanted, every time I left the mikvah, was to take a hot shower and scrub the violation off me. That was prohibited. Instead I was required to go home and have nonconsensual sex with the man who had spent the day describing to me in graphic detail how he was going to murder me. The man who would not let me close the door when I used the bathroom, because “what was I hiding from him in there?”

No matter. I had to get on the bed and spread my legs and forget what had happened to me at the mikvah and ignore the pain while I waited for him to finish, and I had to remind myself how lucky I was that he usually was done after only three or four thrusts. A lifetime straight out of Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

Forced marriage — in which one or both parties do not give full, free consent — is recognized globally as a form of modern slavery. My story is far from unique: Around the world, 22 million people were in a forced marriage as of 2021.

My husband would regularly search through my personal belongings in front of me, including in the pockets of the clothing in my closet and in my bag of tampons under the bathroom sink. A lifetime of subjugation. When I finally realized at age 27 that I was the only person who would help me leave my abusive forced marriage alive and I decided I would secretly save up cash for my escape, I found the only safe hiding place in the house: a box of Whole Grain Total in the pantry.

I saved more than $40,000 in that cereal box over the next five years.

During those years I also defied my community and did something no one in my family had ever done: I became a college student. My husband forbade me from attending classes. I informed him, calmly, that nothing he did to me would stop me from getting my education.

And I did something no one I knew had ever done: I threw out the limp, ugly wig I was required to wear as a married woman to cover my own thick, healthy hair. I walked outside with my uncovered head held high — the equivalent, in that community, of walking outside naked.

My family retaliated immediately by shunning me. One of my sisters notified me that my family was planning to sit shiva — or observe the Jewish mourning ritual for me — as if I had literally died. I have had almost no contact with my family since that day. A lifetime of being dead.

But I graduated from Rutgers University (as commencement speaker, the equivalent of valedictorian) at age 32, and I escaped my abusive forced marriage on my own, with my daughters and my box of Total. I fled the Orthodox Jewish community too, and I rebuilt my life.

In 2011 I founded a nonprofit organization, Unchained At Last, to combat forced and child marriage in the U.S. through direct services and systems change.

The U.S. is one of 193 countries that agree forced and child marriage are harmful practices, particularly for women and girls, and have promised to eliminate these abuses by year 2030 to help achieve gender equality, under the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals. Yet the U.S. is not on track to keep its promise.

I refuse to accept this. Not after I escaped my lifetime of oppression.

We at Unchained are fighting back by providing crucial wraparound services to a long-ignored population: those who are fleeing an existing or impending forced marriage in the U.S. To date we have provided legal and social services, always for free, to nearly 1,000 individuals, to help give them a lifetime of dignity, safety and hope.

We also started a national movement to end child marriage. In the last few years, our groundbreaking research and relentless advocacy have allowed us to help change the law in 10 U.S. states to ban child marriage — a stunning victory for the 7.5 million girls who live in those 10 states — and we are working on the other 40.

A lifetime of preventing other lifetimes of rape.

“Mazel tov!” I now tell myself, beaming, with each triumphant step closer to ending forced and child marriage in the U.S.

Fraidy Reiss is a forced marriage survivor turned activist. She is the founder and executive director of Unchained At Last, a survivor-led nonprofit organization working to end forced and child marriage in the U.S. through direct services and systems change. Fraidy’s research and writing on forced and child marriage have been published extensively, making her one of the nation’s foremost experts on these abuses. She has been featured in books (including as one of the titular women in Hillary and Chelsea Clinton’s “The Book of Gutsy Women”), films and countless television, radio and print news stories.

Need help? Visit RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Online Hotline or the National Sexual Violence Resource Center’s website.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch.

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neonghostlights · 1 year

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A/N: We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn is used in this chapter. I actually love that song even though it's kind of creepy. It fits the vibes. Also, I promise we get more Eddie interactions in the next chapter.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Doctors, Weight loss/loss of appetite/food, Psychiatrist/Discussion of Readers Mental Health, Overbearing Parent, Nightmares, Blood, If I missed anything please let me know, Not proofread, 18 + only, Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7k

Eddie Munson x Fem reader

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Part Three

Monday, September 1st, 1986

The pounding on your front door matched the rhythmic pounding in your head. You hopped off your spot on the kitchen counter where you had been nursing your mug full of coffee to open the door for your mother. As the door opened you could see her standing on the doorstep with a frown etched across her face.

You followed her eyes as they trailed from your hair down to your shoes. Your mother always did this thing since the quake where she observed you, mentally making notes of what was off or changed since the last time she had seen you. You were pretty certain she probably kept a journal detailing how you looked or acted each time she saw you so she could go back and compare notes.

The soft hum of the engine came from her car still running in the driveway. The sky was cloudy and gray behind her, teasing the possibility of rain.

“Your clothes look looser,” your mom said as her eyes did another critical pass over you.

“Goodmorning, Mother. Happy to see you too on this beautiful morning,” you remarked sarcastically as you waved your arms at the cloudy world behind her. You turned to leave her at the open door as you took one last sip of your coffee and grabbed your bag off the couch.

“I’m serious,” she called after you. “Have you been eating?”

You huffed as you walked out the front door and closed it behind you. She stood over your shoulder as you locked the door. “Yes, I’ve been eating.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had been eating. But definitely not as much as you used to. It wasn’t something you had done on purpose. Food just didn’t hold much appeal after the first initial bites. Honestly, you hadn’t even thought much about your food intake or weight until you noticed the way your clothes started to fit now. Everyday you promised yourself that you would eat more just to push it off onto the next day. You should have known your mom would notice.

Your mother pursed her lips as she observed you climbing into the passenger seat of her car. The car that she has had for three years yet still had that new car smell.

“I have a good feeling about this new doctor,” she stated matter of factly as she started the car and reversed from the driveway.

You gave a half hearted hum before she continued. “I mean, he’s supposed to be the best neurologist in the Indianapolis area.”

“Do you really mean that or are you saying that because you know his parents?” you asked with an eye roll.

Your mom took a deep breath but didn’t say anything else as you reached over and turned on the radio. It was going to be a long car ride to Indianapolis.

The exam room was sterile and white. You currently sat on the exam table in the center of the room. The thin protective paper underneath you crinkled with each impatient swing of your legs.

Visiting the neurologist always made you nervous. You were always a little medical mystery that no one wanted to take the time to solve. The doctors in the hospital had made it seem like it was a cut and dry case of a head injury. But every time you’ve been to the doctor recently they seem to either not know or not care enough to dig deeper into why you weren’t getting better.

Hence why your mother had weaseled you into this new doctor's practice. She really did care and wanted to see you improve. Her way of showing it was just different than what you would expect.

“Can you please sit still and act your age?” your mother wrinkled her nose at the now ripped paper underneath your thighs.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous,” you muttered.

Her face softened at your admittance. It wasn’t often you admitted that your health worried you. You were usually the one brushing things off or always claiming that things were okay.

A loud knock sounded from the closed door before the doctor made his entrance.

Dr. Coleman was younger than you had expected. His charming smile when he walked into the room practically made your mother swoon from her chair.

You fought back the urge to gag.

“Well, hello there,” he said as he took your mother's hand.

“When Connie told me her son was a hot shot doctor I couldn’t believe it! Thank you so much for getting us in so soon!” She exclaimed.

“No problem at all,” he said before he turned to you. “And you must be my patient. Nice to meet you,” he said as he reached his hand out to you. You didn’t miss the way his tone softened greatly when he spoke to you. Like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.

You sent a quick nod as a greeting before he sat in a circular rolling chair and started to pull papers from the file he held under his arm.

“I looked over all of your records from the hospital and your previous doctor. I’m honestly very surprised with what I found,” he remarked. “But before we get into that, how are you feeling lately? What symptoms are you experiencing?”

You cleared your throat, not wanting to answer this question in front of your mom. You could only imagine the drama it would cause if you asked her to leave, plus having to deal with the interrogation on the ride home to Hawkins.

“Well, I'm still having daily headaches, memory loss, nightmares, and nosebleeds. I’ve recently noticed a lack of appetite and I think that’s made me lose some weight. Also, I think I’m having hallucinations.”

Your mothers head snapped to look at you. Dr. Coleman nodded like he wasn’t surprised.

“What kind of hallucinations?” The doctor asked as he read over your chart again.

You tried to swallow, your throat suddenly feeling very dry under your mothers glare. “Uh, well seeing things, hearing things, feeling things like I’m dreaming but I’m awake the whole time. And then I wake up and everything is normal.”

“Mhm,” he hummed as clicked off the overhead light and rolled closer in his chair and shined a bright light into your eyes, making you jump. He gave you an apologetic smile as he continued to look at your eyes and then moved on to using his cold hands to awkwardly palpate around your skull.

“Well, I think I have an idea of what might be going on,” he rolled back away from you and turned the light back on. He grabbed some prints of what looked like blurry pictures of a brain and held them in front of you and your mother so you could both see. The pictures were hard to see with the way he was holding them and you couldn’t really tell what you were looking at.

“These are some copies of your last brain scan and your first brain scan from the hospital when you first came in. I looked over the originals intensely and there’s one thing I noticed between the two of them. There’s no sign of any brain damage or injury in either of these. I’m looking at a perfectly healthy brain in both scans.”

“So what does that mean?” your mother asked as she put a hand to her own head.

“It means I think the initial diagnosis in the hospital was wrong. Looking at your records nothing indicated that you had hurt your head besides loss of consciousness, memory loss, and a headache. It’s my professional opinion that what you’re experiencing is psychiatric in nature, not physical. I have a list of great psychiatrists in the area that I think will be very beneficial for you.”

The room started to spin as you worked harder to get air in and out of your lungs. “I am not crazy,” you gritted out.

Your mother gasped at your tone. “I’m not saying you’re crazy,” the doctor said calmly. “It’s not unusual for ladies your age to feel a lot of pressure and stress, especially with some of the recent events around Hawkins. Perhaps the earthquake or some other event was a breaking point for your stress. The psychiatrists on this list should be able to find the right medication to help you.” He handed the list to your mother who was teary eyed and nodding along to every word he said.

“I am not stressed or under pressure. I hit my head in a freak accident. That’s it.” You jumped down from the table, ready to make your escape from the room.

“I know this is hard to hear. But physically the scans are telling me a different story. I wish you both the best of luck,” he said as he backed out of the room and shut the door behind him.

You didn’t spare your mom another glance as you stomped out of the office and into her car.

She stayed quiet as well for the majority of the ride home, sensing that you weren’t in the mood to talk. As you got closer to Hawkins, her need to say what was on her mind won.

“I’ll call in the morning and make you an appointment with one of the doctors on the list,” she said quietly, probably hoping you wouldn’t hear her.

“You can do that but that doesn’t mean I’ll go,” you snapped back. Your mom probably didn’t deserve your attitude, you were acting more like a fifteen year old than a twenty year old but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad. You knew you weren’t crazy like that stupid doctor had suggested.

Your mom took a deep breath before she spoke again. “I don’t see how it would hurt to get another perspective.”

She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand what it felt like to feel like this everyday. It was one thing to think of yourself as crazy, but to hear it from another person was too much. It made it too real. From not remembering certain things to the comments that Miss Joan had made in the grocery store that day, it felt like you were being left out of something. All of that on top of the fact that your mom had never actually told you how you ended up in the hospital made you suspicious.

“I’ll go if you tell me what happened to me during the earthquake,” you offered.

“What do you mean? We’ve talked about this before,” she said quickly.

You shook your head. “No, every time I ask any questions you change the subject. I just want to know where I was when it happened. Did you see me get hurt? How did I get to the hospital?”

She puckered her lips like she was physically stopping herself from saying anything damning. When the silence stretched for too long and it became clear that she wouldn’t be saying anything, you took matters into your own hands.

You smacked your hands against the dashboard, ignoring the sharp stinging in your palms. “God damnit, Mom! Just tell me!”

The car suddenly braked, causing you to jolt in your seat before it veered sharply to the side of the road. A passing car horn could be heard as someone honked at your mothers sudden maneuvers.

She sat staring straight ahead once the car was stopped and the flashers were on. Both her hands rested perfectly still against the wheel.

When she finally spoke it startled you. “I don’t know what happened to you. I was out of town for work and I got a call that you were in the hospital. When I asked what happened he said-“ She stopped herself abruptly, clamping her teeth together quickly.

“He who?” You demanded.

“I misspoke,” she said as she put the car back in gear and pulled out onto the road again. “Let's go get you something to eat before I take you home.”

You didn’t ask anymore questions for the rest of the day. If you were going to get any answers, you were going to have to go about it a different way.

You hesitantly walked into the office of your new psychiatrist.

The room was bleach white from the walls to the chairs, giving it a cold clinical feeling. Two chairs sat in the center of the room separated by a low coffee table. The coffee table housed a container of tissues, and oddly enough a record player.

You assumed that maybe the psychiatrist liked to use music during his sessions. You think you have heard before that music helps access certain parts of the brain. You don’t remember where you’ve learned that from.

You sit in the smaller chair that you assumed was designated for patients and place your forearms against the armrest, attempting to get comfortable as you wait for the doctor to arrive for your appointment.

You're surprised when you hear a slight crackling as the record player starts to play.

We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

The haunting tune unsettles you slightly as you shift in your seat, turning to face the door in hopes that it would make the doctor arrive faster.

“Well, hello there,” a man's voice said suddenly. You nearly jumped out of your seat when you realized the chair across from you was no longer empty.

In it sat a man wearing a white collared button down shirt, tucked neatly into white pants. His choice of outfit nearly made him blend in with the rest of his office. His blonde hair was styled and gelled perfectly on the top of his head.

But I know we’ll meet again

Some sunny day

He must be the doctor.

He gives you a kind smile full of bleach white teeth. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He’s soft spoken and sounds kind. You immediately feel comfortable in his presence.

“It’s okay,” you croak out. “I’ve been a little jumpy lately.”

His smile widens at that. “So I’ve heard. How else have you been feeling lately?”

You cleared your throat as you glanced back down at the record player that was still playing. You launched into the usual rundown of your symptoms. “Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares-”

“No, no, no. Not your symptoms. Your feelings. How do you feel?”

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

‘Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds

Far away

Your mouth was suddenly dry as you tried to think of an answer for him. “Um, tired, upset, confused, a little scared sometimes…”

“Guilty?” He interjected.

You tilted your head at him in confusion. “Why would I feel guilty?”

“He got hurt because of you. He was trying to protect you. Don’t you remember?” The psychiatrist's voice started to change. Gone was the soft spoken tone. His voice sounded deeper and distorted, making your hair stand on end.

You shook your head wildly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let out a deep laugh. “The sooner you stop fighting then the sooner your suffering will all be over.”

Large black vines slithered out from under your chair, wrapping around your arms and pinning you into place. You thrashed against them in an attempt to get free but the more you moved the tighter they held you.

You watched in horror as the skin peeled off of his face and his hair melted away. Revealing disfigured skin of a monster. His once kind looking blue eyes were now cloudy and reptilian as he examined you like prey.

So will you, please, say hello

To the folks that I know?

Tell them I won’t be long

The walls of the office started to peel and drop away, leaving you in the middle of the world that you had only seen in your nightmares. Red flashes of lightning struck in the distance, Screeching of monsters echoed throughout the space.

You pulled against your restraints in another feeble attempt to free yourself.

The monster leaned in closer. “Don’t worry. We’ll meet again.”

You woke from your nightmare abruptly as you thrashed against the blankets. Blood dripped down your chin as it ran from your nose. You didn’t bother to wipe it away as you tried to catch your breath.

Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe you were crazy.

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sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan · 6 months

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Thoughts on Short Chapter 90.1 (Long Post)

First of all, what in the world just happened? That short chapter was so unexpected for a short chapter.

Endo is really good at messing all of our brains in just four pages. Upon seeing it as an extra chapter, I thought it’s going to be on a lighter side but I don’t expect it to be dark and centered around Anya!

So here are some of my 6 takeaways. (Long post again sorry!)

1.Anya is probably not the real spelling of her name or not even her real full name

-Anya is pretty sure herself that her name is spelled as Ania, she spelled her name the same way in the Eden Entrance Exam.

-And the expression in her face when Loid corrected her tells a lot. (I’m really amazed how Endo conveyed this without the readers letting know what is going on in Anya’s mind. Meaning that he still doesn’t want to reveal that snippet of her thoughts process since it surely would reveal something about her past) Her expression was so subtle but it tells that for her, she's certain that it was really letter I. Then settling with oh, but not like a happy and excited or enlightened ‘Oh!’ But just a simple, Oh, okay... Like she had no choice but to just agree.

And her lying in her bed thinking about the name, saying it aloud as if familiarizing it.

So here are my thoughts about Ania/Anya’s name:

Ania is part of a longer name

Maybe Ania was a nickname given to her because she has a longer one.

I just told my sister days ago that Anya’s name sounds like Ostania and maybe that is where her name came from. So maybe Ania is just what they named her deriving from Ostania itself.

Ania could also be an acronym for something. Like the A could stand for Apple since the experiment is called Project Apple. The rest of the letters however I have no idea.

Ania could also be an experimental name (Like what I saw on some posts here the AN1A one so they decided to call her Ania but it was not a name but a label for her.

2.Why Loid assumes it was Y and not I

In the documents Franky had given him in the first chapter, her name is spelled Anya with a Y. Meaning, the orphanage thought her name is spelled that way but we can understand for Anya it was always spelled with I not Y. (The document is not readable in the manga but it was clear in the anime)

3.Endo has plans for everything, especially for the three main characters and their back stories

Endo often says that he thought things in a spur of a moment in terms of making this manga (Reference: fanbook Endo interview page 176) like how he decided Anya being a telepath on the last moment and called it luck that it worked out lol. But this was clearly planned and the anime creators, directors and writers are aware and is working closely with Endo. What he pulled in this short chapter isn’t something that can be thought for the last minute. It is planned from the very beginning. Probably some of the little details in the manga might mean more that what meets the eyes. (I saw a video before and in that video they showed Endo's studio and they showed miniature models of the designer chairs on the volume and there are chairs there that were just briefly shown that is yet to appear. I saw the video before the release of Volume 11, the one with Emile and Ewen and I saw their chairs in the line up of the models. So you can't convince me that he hasn't planned anything where he wants to take the plot next.)

4. The Anime on Anya's nameplate change

Anya's name changed in her nameplate, from Ania to Anya at exactly end of Season 1 Part 1 episode 12. Anime have been very persistent in showing that nameplate.

(Episode 3, not in the manga)

Then Episode 11, we saw the change of her name spelling on her test. So the short mission 90.5 took place before she got her first stella.

The Season 1 Part 1 Finale, we see this nameplate and I went to check the short mission of this in the manga and no, the manga didn't show the change of nameplate in that particular chapter.

Now I'm rethinking that it was really a well thought decision of Clover and Wit to make the Aquarium episode and this episode in the finale rather than starting the dog arc crisis and it was smart and sneaky of them.

Anime is doing a lot of work to elaborate the manga and I love them for that!

5.Like Father Like Daughter

It would make sense that in this family Loid and Anya would be the one who bears fake names. Yor being the one whose name being real symbolizes how she doesn’t lie about anything besides being an assassin, and there are times when she isn’t even keeping the fact that she is one. She always does things, mainly, because she genuinely cares for Anya and Loid not for her job at all (as the story progress she thought less about them being just a cover for her). Yet Anya and Loid often does things for their own ulterior motives (Anya for wanting a family for herself and Loid for his mission). They’re the ones who actively kept protecting their secret identities. The ones with the most the secrets. Both have names different from their real ones. Really makes sense don’t you think?

6.We could get an Anya backstory arc, if not by the next chapter, sooner than we expect.

We might have snippets of Anya’s backstory but I believe that Endo would not give out the whole thing. It’s too early to reveal it and what could Anya’s trigger be for her to think about everything that happened in her past?

Loid is triggered when he was rendered unconscious by Anya’s tonitrus

Yor is triggered when she’s thinking about Yuri

How about Anya?

What could trigger her to remember everything she went through?

-Will she perhaps see something or someone that will make her remember her past? (I read a fanfiction about her meeting a man who used to adopt her, it’s from coloredice I think and I can’t help but seeing it happen in canon)

Yet this is a short chapter, maybe Endo will continue this with another short chapter or give us a full chapter in the next two weeks centering around Anya. But it could also be not, since it could also just a way for Endo to add additional details to the narrative. But why bring this up now? for sure, it was a reminder, maybe a preparation on what the future ten chapters to the 100th holds.

Now it’s time for you to tell me what you think? Let’s be Twilight and overthink this four chapter short because our man's too attached to even care about knowing Anya’s background.

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julianalvarez9 · 1 year

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named after you / john stones

author's note: my mind hasn't stopped thinking about that damn interview where john speaks about bernardo's dog named after him so i had to write this. started as a blurb, ended as a full fic + socmed au. i hate myself.

wc: 1.5k words.

pairing: john stones x footballer!reader (doesn't really impact much of the story, except she's injured).

face claim: esme morgan 💌

contains: excessive use of pet names, roasting jack grealish just because (i love you jack), they're in love but they don't know it, mentions of injury and a foot cast but nothing too detailed (because i don't know shit about injuries)

summary: your best friend is dumbfounded to learn that you've never had a dog, not even as a kid. he goes above and beyond to change that when the circumstances ask for a way to cheer you up.

"you've never had a dog before?".

john can't believe his ears. but to be fair, everyone at the little studio set where you're filming the next video for city's youtube channel is as incredulous as he is. you just laugh at his reaction, before explaining. "well, i wanted one when i was a kid, but my parents said i was too small to have one. and then i just never asked again".

his brows just keep on furrowing, and it's like he had forgotten about the stack of cards he had in hand, with the 20 questions he was supposed to ask you for the video prepared by the team. "yeah, but you're what? 24 now? you could have a dog," he said, like it was obvious. to be fair, he was right. after all, you lived alone: no partner, no kids, no family in the country. having a little pet to take care of and love would make you happy, but you weren't sure if you would have the time to take care of a little dog now, with how packed your schedule is. maybe that's why you hadn't really thought about getting a furry friend. "i suppose. didn't think about it before," you shrug.

"fine. i'm getting you a dog".

it's been months since that interaction, and you haven't thought about john's promise since. the video went live on the team's youtube channel a few weeks after, and as expected, everyone loved it. the friendship you had with the city player was always cherished by the fans, and you couldn't really blame them. he was your best friend since you arrived in the club, and having his support from the beginning really made the adaptation period easier.

you realized how much you basked in his affection and care when you suffered a season-ending injury. it wasn't that hard, to be honest, but since the end of the season was less than a month away, you knew that the recovery period would be longer than what it took to get you back on the pitch in time for the last game. john has been there from the first moment, sending you a message as soon as he saw you went down on the grass. you only saw it after the medical exams were done, when the doctors had already told you that you probably wouldn't get to play again until next season.

facing the reality about you not being there for your teammates, not being able to help them in any way, shape or form, at least where it mattered to you -in the pitch-, was rough. you went from the training center for recovery to home, all day, every day, never getting quite far from the prefabricated route: your only focus was to get healthy again. you weren't even seeing john that often, with his schedule being as overwhelming as always and you don’t even daring to set a foot in the etihad if you weren't there to play.

but john, your good best friend john, knew exactly what to do to cheer you up.

“are you home?”.

the call alone was weird. john wasn’t one to talk much on the phone, and much less, while driving. if he wasn’t using free hands, you’ll kill him. “why are you calling me while driving, stones?”.

“asked you a question first. answer, little one”.

the nickname alone made you roll your eyes, and he swore he could picture your annoyed face in his mind. the joke had been running between you two ever since you two meet, really, not only because of the slight age gap, but also, due to how he towered over you. wasn’t rocket science, it was what his position on the field demanded, while you, as a striker, only had to be quick. “yeah, dad, i’m home”.

“whoa, what an attitude. i’m about to get home, so you better fix it”.

you couldn't even process him calling your place home, or protest against him coming without a longer notice -not a 2 second warning, like this one, because he had already hung up before you could even mutter a confused “what?”.

if looks could kill, you’d be charged with a murder.

you’re glaring at john’s car from the second it sets a wheel into your front yard. he’s quick in parking the car and stepping out of it, but instead of going to greet you, standing on the doorway with your arms crossed, he goes to open his rear door.

“what are you doing?” you ask, almost screaming, to ensure that he hears even if he’s quite far from you. john appears to be arranging something on the back of the car, but he smiles when answering your question. “go inside. wait on the sofa. eyes closed”.

you’re about to make a funny comment, except his smile goes away the second you take too long to fulfill his wishes. you decide to quit being difficult and, with a bit of difficulty due to the cast shoe you have in your feet, make your way to the couch. your eyes remain open, though, watching the match your team was playing on the tv. once you heard the door closing, you shut your eyes.

“do you have your hands ready?”.

you frown, but still, your arms are extended with your palms up per john’s request. soon, you’re opening up your eyes when you feel a warm ball of fur placed on your hands.

“john, did you get me a dog?”.

you almost have tears in your eyes when you place the little jack russell on your lap, and it curls into a ball, falling asleep almost instantly. “isn’t he the prettiest boy ever?” john coos, squatting so he can get a good look at the little dog you’re holding. “john, i can’t have a dog. i’m never at home,” you rationalize once the initial emotion has settled in. you start to think about your schedule, how you’re seemingly always away. the worry must have painted on your face, because the man in front of you notices it, and is quick to find your hand, previously resting on the little canine, to squeeze reassuringly.

“yes, you can. you’re home now, aren’t you?” he smiles, and you’re rolling your eyes, again, for what feels like the hundredth time today. “he’s gonna help with your recovery. but you don’t have to worry about him being alone here once you’re back: our schedules don't always match. when you can't have him, i'll take care of him". the way he’s looking at you now, with his fluffy hair and sweet smile is making you melt almost as much as the sight of the little puppy resting on your legs.

long seconds pass before any of you say anything, too focused on your little friend, before you realize john hasn’t told you how he’s called. “what’s his name?” you ask, and he looks up at you before shaking his head. “doesn’t have one. it’s up to you”. the smile you have on your face after hearing him speak, has your best friend thinking that you’re up to no good. and he’s proven right when you open your mouth again.

"i'm naming him after you".

his eyebrows furrow and he’s shaking his head again, clear discontent in his face now. "what? you can't. i won't allow you to," he opposes in a high pitched tone, and you laugh before answering. "why not? he's my dog,” you point out, and the puppy on your lap suddenly wakes up, probably awakened by the small argument held between both of you. you direct your hand to caress his little head, and he rewards you by licking your palm, almost like a little kiss. “i think he likes it. don't you, johnny boy?".

he has to straighten up so you don’t see the smallest pink rose to his cheeks when hearing you say johnny boy. he always told you he despised the nickname, which was why you had stopped using it, but instead, he lied because he liked hearing you say it.

"but why john?" he presses, again, hoping that, maybe, it’ll make you change your mind. he knows it's wishful thinking: after being friends with you for so long, john is aware that when an idea pops into your pretty brain, it’s almost impossible to shake it off. "first, you're the one that got him,” you list off, and it has him rolling his eyes. you think it’s funny how the roles are reversed, and the smallest giggle escapes your list before continuing with your explanation. “second, he's a jack russell".

"and? you could name him after jack," he says, and he’s hopeful when the doubt is planted on your face. it takes you a few seconds before you’re shaking your head, scrunching up your nose in disagreement. "nah, he can't jump that high”. you’ve switched your focus now, from person-john to dog-john, and your voice gets a little higher when speaking to him. “when you grow up you'll jump as high as your daddy here, won't you, pretty boy?".

john feels like he could faint by the amount of pet names that seem to flow effortlessly from your lips. "okay that's enough," he says, and you laugh at how agitated he is. "it's settled then. john stones, meet john stones".

yourusername

Liked by johnstonesofficial, jackgrealish and others.

yourusername everyone, meet john stones

View all comments.

jackgrealish glad to see he's into football like his daddy 😂 johnstonesofficial

yourusername such a talented little boy 🤍

johnstonesofficial john stones jr*

yourusername so you're john stones sr?

rubendias 🧓🏻🧓🏻

mancity bring him to training next time! 💙

yourusername will do 🤝🏻

#football imagines #football imagine #football x you #football x reader #john stones imagine #john stones x reader #john stones instagram au #john stones social media au #john stones x you #john stones fluff

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hum-suffer · 4 months

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We'll Say Hello Again (Nevermind the chasm between us) 13

Gauri would never wish for someone's death, really. Not unless she had reasons.

She's eighteen when she begins to reconsider the parameters of the said reasons.

In order to win the Rajmata's favour and to become a Prince consort of the realm, many lords have started vying for her attention in frankly unflattering manners. One tried to buy her with gold, another tried to buy her with promises of allowance of other future lovers, and a particularly peculiar one tried to buy her with promise of privacy.

What is she going to do with gold? She's a fucking Princess. Why would she need any lover when she has her husband? She's loyal, thank you. And why would she be enticed with a basically loveless life? She can have her privacy in her own rooms.

Bhalla doesn't often engage with her when she tells him about how irritating it really is to be the center or unwanted attention— he loves all the attention he gets. Amar, while he understands her ire, he surrenders with a shrug and tells her that she can live by his side for all their lives, for all he cares. He says that she'll be happier with him than any of these lords who want her title and perhaps her inheritance. Gauri rolls her eyes at him, he's not completely wrong.

The life of a spinster would be much preferred over the constant pressure to perform wifely duties for someone who did not love her.

As she's adding the final details to the tunic in her hands, Gauri looks over the arena at her brothers, Katappa and Bhairav, all training. She's earned her day off from the training, giving her medical knowledge exam not an hour ago. She doesn't know how well she's done, and doesn't ever want to know.

Gauri already has decided that she's going to be in the cabinet of ministers, preferably for the child development department. The medical knowledge is a background that she needs in order to make her credentials shin even further.

The sting of the needle on her finger brings her back and Gauri breathes in relief when she sees that her blood hasn't smudged on the dark periwinkle of the shirt. It's muslin, rare and gorgeous. And repurposed from a gift that one of the lords who tried to buy her with gold gave her.

Beside her, Yamuna shakes her head. "Your highness, give this work to someone else. You'll only end up with aching fingers, you've been behind this for two days!"

Gauri shushes her suspiciously. "I cannot do that, my friend," she says, holding the urge to lift up the tunic to see her completed work. "I am doing this for a birthday present. I will not pawn off a gift to another to work upon."

Yamuna shakes her head. "At least give it a rest for the morning, now. You've already got to go for your astronomy lessons in three hours. Rest for a couple of hours, you've been over working."

Gauri playfully raises her eyebrows,"Haven't you become much more overbearing since getting married?"

"I wonder what will happen to you, then," she deadpans,"you've been overbearing since you knew how to walk."

Gauri laughs, loud and careless of any officer vying for her hand. "You've become cheeky. I must meet Harihar and thank him for gifting you some humour as your marriage gift."

Yamuna hesitates for a second and lowers her voice,"That's not the thing he's gifted me."

Gauri grins and looks at her friend's mildly scandalous words. "How positively risque, my friend. Absolutely admirable. Why aren't you around me in my waking hours more often?"

Yamuna purses her lips and shrugs dryly. "Your dog doesn't leave you alone in daylight."

"Be respectful," Gauri narrows her eyes but keeps her tone breezy. "As per his position, he is still your senior."

As if sensing that they were talking about him, one of Bhairav's arrows flies towards them and embeds itself in the bark of the tree behind them. Gauri doesn't bother removing it before she turns back to Bhairav with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugs cheekily before he bows, bending low. Gauri waves her hand in dismissal and Bhairav straightens while Katappa shakes his head bemusedly from behind him. "Have better manners than that, boy," he says, lightly swatting Bhairav on his head.

Bhairav turns back to Katappa and Gauri turns her eyes back to Yamuna, who gives her a knowing look.

"I've often heard that dogs get territorial very easily."

This time, a look from Gauri tells her that she's at a dangerous threshold. Yamuna smartly turns the conversation back to her rest.

"Bhairavrath!" She calls him and his attention is instantly on her, so is Bhalla and Amar's. When Bhairav is sufficiently near them, she gestures at Gauri. "Tell her that she can rest for two hours before her next class and escort her to her rooms, please."

"I don't obey you, Yamuna," he says, charming and cocksure. This change isn't too new, he's had a lot of increase in his confidence after Katappa has basically made him an apprentice to become the next Royal Guard Chief. The ability to lead and strategise and to be proven the very best among quite literally hundreds has rubbed off on him.

(Gauri remembers the day that he quietly seethed at her and asked her if she had anything to do with Katappa choosing him to be the next successor.

She remembers coolly regarding him before telling him that if he had been favoured by her especially, it would be obvious enough that he'd have never had to ask. He'd been quiet the whole day before asking her hesitantly if she would wish him luck.

Gauri had gotten him several books on war strategy and commissioned him a bracelet that doubled as a weapon.

It glints on his hand in the sunlight even now.)

Bhairav looks at Gauri, eyes downcast in reverence. "My princess."

"My Archer."

"May I escort you to your chambers to rest for a while?" Gauri knows what he's doing, deciding for her that she will rest, only asking permission to be the one to escort her. She huffs a laugh, he's getting audacious, but that audacity is what makes her days interesting.

"You may," she says at last,"after you put that sword of yours away become more presentable."

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

When they're sitting for dinner, Maa asks about their days and Gauri relaxes, tuning out the answers because she knows them already. It's only when she hears her name that she looks up at Maa.

"And Gauri? Mahashivratri is coming up, will you like to take care of all the preparations?"

For a moment, she's speechless."With great honour, Maa. But you will have to guide me, I have not planned something at a large scale yet."

It's true. Gauri has planned their birthdays and monthly Shivratri at the palace, but she's never had anything to do at such a large scale. She knows everything must be flawless— Mahadev may be her friend but she's not willing to risk his ire.

Maa smiles at her,"Of course, daughter. Alongside, can you please help Bhalla and Bahu with the preparations to receive the governor of the West province?"

Dread fills her. She doesn't want to do this. The time for annual reports is two months past and the man had been there already. There were no peculiarities in the West province, as far as the court reports went. She'll have to ask Advait, the court singer she'd come to know, to do some investigations. However, she is fairly sure that there's absolutely no issue with the West province.

And the only conclusion for the governor to come here means that he wants some special boon— which could include a marriage alliance with either of the royal children.

The prospect alone makes her want to bare the dagger that is now always strapped to her calf.

(She's not returned it, hasn't returned it since the day they almost killed a man.

He hasn't asked for it.)

Gauri is more apprehensive about this but she nods with a smile nonetheless, glad to be trusted with the administration of the household.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Her brothers have no sense of propriety.

It's as they are walking back to the wing that they have been allotted since their very birth, that Bhalla almost snaps at her. "What's gotten your face so down, Gauri?"

"I'm afraid that the Western governor is coming here for my hand," she whispers, aware of Katappa, Bhairav and Veeraraj behind them. Bhalla had him sworn as his guard when Veeraraj somehow built Bhalla a special kind of mace that is now his preferred weapon. He isn't untrusted, but while Gauri would trust Bhairav with her life— she fears Veeraraj to be greedy enough to squash all loyalty for money.

Amar shakes his head,"You are worrying needlessly, Gauri. He doesn't have any children."

"He has himself." Although older than her, the man had married and his wife had died in some disease. He has been a bachelor for half of Gauri's life.

Amar scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous, Gauri. He's thirty! A dozen years your elder, Maa will not agree even if he propositions you."

Bhalla shrugs,"It isn't that big of a gap, honestly. And if Gauri marries him, we can secure the Western banks for better trade." At her betrayed look, he gives her an irritated look back. "Don't look at me like that, Gauri. You thought of the political consequences, too, or you would have been more vehement in your disagreement."

Guilty, she looks down. "I know. And I'm afraid Maa has considered the same."

"It matters not." Amar says, grasping her hand in his. The feel of their hands together has always been the same, rough and grounding. They both have rough hands because of their training, and that only results in holding her anchored when she feels so lost in her own thoughts. "You will not be marrying without your agreement. You are a Princess."

"Exactly," Bhalla says nonchalantly,"You are a Princess. You are not getting married to some lowly governor. I'll find you a King, someone brave and mighty."

But I want someone caring too, she thought, her hand tightening on Amar's. I want to be loved.

She wants a family, yes, but she does not want her children to be born out of duties and not of love. She doesn't know what wants, but it's certainly not a loveless life.

She deserves to be loved too, damn it.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Amar raises his eyebrows at her when he finds her studiously completing the embroidery at the collar of a tunic in her rooms.

"That's not mine," he says, presumptuously. Gauri laughs at his forwardness and doesn't reply. He comes to sit beside her, but knows better than to touch anything that is in her hands without her explicit permission. "That's not for me either, is it?"

Gauri shakes her head. Amar has broader shoulders, he's built and built heavily. Bhalla, too, has a more muscle nuanced build.

"It's for Bhalla?"

Gauri doesn't reply, focusing on the embroidery. She's doing the last outline and it needs to be perfect, because if it isn't, Gauri doesn't have the time to make another one. She will, of course, if need be. But it won't be as perfect in one day as it's been in one week.

"You're making this for Bhairav." It's not a question this time but she hears the incredulity. Gauri hums as she stops for a moment.

She looks at her brother and explains,"His birthday is coming up, overmorrow. I have been remiss in the past years in finding his birthday and he has been unnaturally elusive as well. But I found it last year, and I intend to make his birthday happy."

(He has no family. His empty home haunts him. He is haunted. He is my sword. He is my friend.)

Gauri will try her damnedest to make him happy, if it's the last thing she does.

"And you're telling me this now?" Amar asks outrageously,"I want to give him a gift too, now what will I do? It won't be done in time!"

Gauri purses her lips in mild irritation, wondering if she should poke him with her needle. She decides to have mercy and simply says,"Suffer."

"My sister hates me!" He groans dramatically and flops down in the bed. Gauri doesn't pay him any heed until he manages to wiggle himself onto her lap. "Did you see the girl that Bhalla has recently been focused on?"

Gauri hums disinterestedly,"Yes, she was the one I tasked with preparing the Governor's rooms. She's pretty."

"But why is he getting to suddenly befriend the workers of the castle?"

"Perhaps our brother has fallen in love." Gauri says with a shrug, even though she doesn't believe it. Bhalla would never love a simple citizen.

Amar snorts and fiddles with the sleeve of the tunic. "I think not. Do you think he's changing?"

Not for the better, Gauri knows.

"Time changes everyone, Amar," she says patiently and uses her teeth to cut the extra thread once she's finished.

Amar swats her shoulder,"Don't be a savage, you have a pair of scissors!"

"Did I ask your opinion?"

"It's better than yours, for sure!"

"Oh, get back to your rooms, you lazy bear."

Gauri folds the tunic and puts it in the drawer beside her bed. She lays down as well, after putting her sewing kit on the floor. "Bahu?" Amar hums as he sits up, shifting to lay down beside her. "Is it wrong that I don't want to marry for an alliance?"

"Absolutely not, Gauri," he says resolutely. "There's nothing wrong in wanting love. Besides, you're too young for marriage."

Gauri bites her lip thoughtfully and doesn't reply. Amar somehow sounds naive to her ears. Has he remained in the past or has she grown up too quickly?

____________________________________________________

Tags: @alhad-si-simran @vijayasena @voidsteffy

(a shorter chapter because ab aage bohot action hone wala hai and i wanted to publish this before my exams lol)

#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #devasena #bahubali #baahubali

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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Retrospective - Chapter 4: Professional Conversations

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (the slowest burn) Main summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First Chapter Last Chapter Word Count: 5,708

A/N: So Aizawa decided to comeback finally the other day... How are we feeling? Anyway, I hope this helps the manga readers. (I'm so sorry it's been over a month, life decided to throw me at the wall a few times. Because I've been struggling with posting chapters as often as I want to, I've decided after this one I will be cutting down the size. I hope it works out for the best, but that means there will be a larger number of chapters. I hope those of you that read my story don't care too much) (Also where the hell is Mic???)

For the rest of the meeting you stood breathless. Heart gushing blood through your ears. The words of your proposal dissolved as everything after cemented arrangements flowed into nothingness. You smiled, nodded, and told your new boss you understood his terms as his words reached your ears. Yet you grasped at nothing.

Nezu left the room satisfied. Said something about signing and a new ID. On his way out he wished you the best working for Eraser’s class. You did well, you think.

When Nezu was gone, heavy thunking and a giant shadow from the corner of your eye irritated you out of your trance. It was Mic, jiggling the briefcase by the handle. Your laptop was still in there! Slightly annoyed, you swiped at the handle to snatch it back. Mic pulled it away before you could, saying something about how he knows you can grab it, and to “try harder”.

You rolled your eyes in a huff, though now wasn’t a good time to break character. Right? You looked around the bright room and almost everyone was gone. The clock on the wall ticked away as you tried to place when everyone left on a timeline. Nemuri waved on her way out, All Might gave you a thumbs up. This was maybe five to seven minutes after you volunteered your time thoughtlessly. When the vote was over, the only people who needed to be in the room was you, Nezu, and—

You turned to the right of Mic’s chair. Eraser finished gathering his folders from his table. Nezu left the details of your position to him. There were many questions you had about being an advisor, but the main one was ‘what does Eraser have in mind?’ Eraser went around the table. Before you finished thinking you’d need to stop him to clarify your new temp job, he joined you and Mic in the center of the room.

In typical fashion, Mic caught on and spoke up before you thought of how to open. “You’re working with Strife then, Eraser? You excited?”

Eraser huffed, ignoring his question. Whether he regretted agreeing to the arrangement already, or he was annoyed Mic brought it up, you weren’t sure. So much for fostering a good professional relationship. You understood though. Just because something is objectively better, like having someone help you prepare twenty kids for a grueling exam, doesn’t mean it’s what you wanted. “I need to talk to Strife. Alone.”

Mic’s grin left his face as he looked at you then back at Eraser then back at you. “Alright,” his smile came back as he shrugged. Mic flipped your briefcase over his shoulder and walked toward the door, leaving you with the friend-of-a-friend. “Try not to keep her too long!” Eraser watched Mic leave the room. In the silence, the conversation you had earlier came to your mind again. Now that you owe him, thinking of how you stormed off earlier made you want to ask Mic to stay. Not out of fear, but because he’d make this interaction less uncomfortable.

But it was too late when the door shut.

You and Eraser. Alone. In a bright, empty room. There’s no need for played up charisma—not when he was past it all and knew you were full of it. Eraser, unexpectedly, held out the folders to you. Grabbing the small stack cautiously with both hands, you thought back to your earlier theory about the folders holding information meant to cast you out. If that was the case then he wouldn’t give you these now. Not when he can hold the folders as leverage for later. Eraser didn’t say a word until you flipped open the first folder, on the top there was a school photo of a boy with red hair. “My class starts training today in Gamma at 9:30.” Toward the middle there was another picture of him in the UA gym uniform. One of his arms was rigid like the side of a cliff, while the other looked normal. “Those contain the information of a few students in my class, I’ll give you more later. I want them to work on creating Ultimate Moves for the exams.”

That’s it?

Eraser could’ve done that without you. Why would he agree to the deal, if the training was independent work?

Your finger traced the paper up to the lines next to the headshot of the boy. The first line should be his name. Squinting at the page, your eyes bounced across the paper. The page was incomprehensible, a salad of lines and squares. You closed the folder and looked at the gray capture weapon again, it was easier to see what actions he’d take if you looked around his shoulders. “It’d be best if I observe the students before I read the files.”

Eraser shifted his weight to one leg, causing a shift where his weapon overlapped. “Any reason why?” His weapon was too clean for it to be used frequently. Maybe he got it replaced recently? Yet again, with everything you heard about the school, his students fighting off villains without licenses… it’d make sense if he was sidelined from doing hero work if his teaching his class was a handful.

“I want to judge them myself,” you answered, mirroring his stance. You lowered the folders in front of your body. Eraser made no moves to take them from you. “Judges don’t read about people taking the test before the exam. It’s like how students don’t meet judges grading the exam. It plays into…” you tried to find the right word. An equivalent to “impressions”, but drawn blank. You raised a gloved hand to pick the word out of the air. Eraser just leaned back with a vacant stare making it harder to concentrate. You closed your eyes and sighed as you settled on “-first sight, if you understand.”

When you opened your eyes, Eraser gave no input of his own. He stared blankly, with nothing to suggest he knew what you meant.

Language switching wouldn’t be acceptable with him like it would be with Hizashi. If you were supposed to give advice to students, then you’d need to communicate clearly. How often would you have to play Word Find in front of teenagers? If you wanted to stay here long enough to locate Akari—hell, if you wanted to investigate in Japan, you needed to get your act together. And quick. “It would also help if they are focused on their training, not a stranger in the room.” While you figure out the mechanics of their quirks, you can have some time to think about and practice what you’ll say. It’ll be just like the first year.

“My students won’t get distracted,” Eraser crossed his arms, with an edge in his voice. Defensive? “But fine. It’s logical enough. We’ll still meet at Gamma and set something up for you to get the information needed, but the class still has to meet you today. There’s only 10 days of training, no time should be wasted.”

Fair enough. If they’re training ultimate moves, you only need a little time to get the gist of their quirks for day one. Details can come later. It should give you enough time for a language refresher. “Anything else?”

Glancing at the ground, his boots pointed toward the door. Unlike his weapon, those were scuffed and broken in. The man is as ready to leave as you are. “We have everything covered. For now. We can talk more after you observe the class. We’ll discuss more when the time comes. For now, we’re building their strengths and hammering out weak points.”

The conversation ended and he finished, about to walk out the door. Footsteps thudded against the hard floor as he made his exit. You thought you were ready to see him leave, but “Wait—!”

Eraser paused.

The hand raised toward him recoiled into a loose fist. You put it away before he turned back. When he did, your eyes trailed to his boots again. “The way I walked out…” They were pointed toward you, and not the door. Good to know you had his full attention this time around. He hummed, that type of thing would be hard to forget in less than a few hours. You tried to find the rest of your sentence and got stuck at a fork in the road.

Were you supposed to say an apology you didn’t mean?

You weren’t sorry about why you left. In fact, business and gratitude aside, you were still mad at him. Not that it matters. “I didn’t act my best,” you said, looking up from the ground. What you feel now— it means nothing.

The man blinked slowly then glanced off to the side closest to the door. Bored already… Him listening to what you had to say was only professional courtesy.

“I didn’t act my best. You’re giving me this opportunity to let me complete my mission faster, and you don’t have to.” You were going to work with him. You’ll help his class. All of them will get their license. In return, you’ll get the answers you need. When all is said and done, Eraser won’t ever see the Pro-Hero Strife again. “Thank you, Eraser.” Words fell out smooth as sand on your tongue, but you can look at his face again.

Eraser rubbed the back of his neck, dodging your gaze by glancing at the ceiling. “If you judged licensing exams before then you’re an asset. Letting you investigate here is a rational trade, I’d be an idiot to vote against it,” he explained listlessly, meeting your eyes toward the end.

You nodded. “Of course…” After a hectic few hours, this was how your conflict ended. All personal grudges all under the bridge… Just like that.

Because you two are adults. Two adults with jobs to do– professionals.

You walked past the other hero, your short-term coworker, explained how you didn’t want to keep Mic waiting. He understood, told you he’d have more information ready later. Both of you went into the hallway. Mic was trying really hard to make it look like he wasn’t listening in. Mic tried dodging the suspicion by bringing up food. Fortunately for him, with the way you’ve been using your power– on top of the healing quirk, you needed calories. Enough to fill a black hole with the way your stomach squeezed. Eraser didn’t have the same worries as you. In seconds, he was long in the opposite direction and you were fine.

Mic led you around campus talking about Lunchrush, another member of UA’s immortality club. With your past experience in the kitchen, a new respect toward the man has grown. He was in charge of preparing enough food for hundreds of people. Showing up unannounced for food felt like an invasion. Lunchrush would have little use for American currency. You really should stop at the bank to make an exchange soon. When you arrived at the cafeteria Mic gave your briefcase back, told you to wait while he worked his “magic”. He strolled backward into the kitchen door, finger guns blazing, to the orchestra of scraping metal. Not long after he came out of the kitchen holding two trays. One with a giant bowl and another with four smaller ones on them. You went to help him but he pointed his chin to a nearby table for you to sit. You hurried to the table, pulling one chair out for Mic then going around to the chair closest to the wall for you to sit.

“Lunchrush thought the request was weird for this time of day, but I figured it’d be closer to dinner for you.” Mic put the tray with smaller dishes on his side of the table. Savory steam floated from his food. His tray had savory broth and spring onion with either soft tofu or an onsen egg (it was hard to tell from your angle), plain rice, the fluffiest rolled omelet, and a strip of tender salmon. It was a feast for the eyes and you can almost taste it on your tongue.

You looked at Hizashi before you drooled over the table like a rabid animal. From your angle, it seemed as if there were no side dishes on the tray he was still carrying. His buckling elbow told you the bowl was heavy. “I tried to get your favorite, but you usually brought your own thing when you finally learned to cook for yourself.” He went to place your food on the table. When you reached to grab the tray, Mic pulled it away. You raised your eyebrow at him. The joke would’ve been more funny if your stomach wasn’t clawing inward to digest itself. Hizashi held the tray closer to you, but pulled it away when you tried grabbing it again.

“Excuse me?”

You expected him to laugh in your face then give you your meal, but his expression hadn’t changed from the slightly amused smile from earlier. The tray floated further from your reach as the man before you held the tray high like he was the cover model posing for Waiter’s Weekly. Hizashi looked down, his pose statue-esque. “You never said anything about Kaneko visiting you.”

You put your hands under the table. Once shielded under the table, your fingers interlaced firmly. “I didn’t mean to make you look bad, I’m sorry.” You really were, you’d apologize even if the beloved sustenance was in your grasp. Peering up again, the statue pose relaxed, but Hizashi made no moves to hand you the tray. “The case has been a lot, I guess,” you couldn’t truthfully tell him you forgot to say anything.

“Right—it just slipped your mind.” Mic teased with lasers scanning across your body. You stopped leaning over the table and forced yourself to sit straight. The wound became slightly itchy– a small price to pay. Was he going to ask about you calling him? “I’m gonna keep it real, you’ve been forgetting about a lot of things.”

“I’m not the only one,” you thought, focus gliding to empty tables toward your right until you heard a sigh.

“You’re talking about Aizawa?” The plastic tray thudded on the table. A treacherous scrap made you wince when Hizashi pulled his chair further out to join you at the table. “I wasn’t trying to blindside you either.”

Steam curled into the air from the large bowl creating a veil between the two of you. Your fingers laced tighter, expecting Hizashi to say something else. Unless it was your turn to speak. You acknowledge his statement with a small nod. You moved your tray closer to your end of the table, hot vapor hit your face. You looked into the bowl. Hizashi got you a bowl of udon. The noodles were abundant with just enough rich broth, and it was topped with a crazy amount of vegetables and protein—the perfect thing for your current situation. In spite of your hunger, a lump formed in your throat. Most udon wasn’t supposed to include all these toppings, there was only one restaurant you remember including this much food without having to add on. Hizashi wasn’t playing around with what he said earlier.

“What are we waiting for,” Hizashi asked, breaking the tension. “Let’s eat!”

The two of you dug into your meals. As experience taught you, eating good food really does help move pain along. When you get the opportunity to combine the nutrients with sleep, you should feel a whole lot better the next time you wake up.

“How do you feel,” asked Hizashi.

You hummed with a slight jerk, worried he remembered your end of the call from days ago. When you processed the teasing edge to his voice, you relaxed.

“Mentor Strife coming out of retirement, didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” Mic had a cocky smile. “And after you told me you couldn’t multitask—”

“Not multitasking.” While you didn’t plan for this to be the mission, the mission is what the mission becomes. In this case the mission is finding Akari and helping Eraser’s students pass their test. The latter is secondary, but you know better than to walk around owing people. “I’m not mentoring students.” The students don’t need one–they already have teachers. “I’m helping them pass a test. That’s it.”

Mic pouted mockingly toward you and you mirrored him briefly before drinking some broth. “Not gonna stay to celebrate after? That’s cold,” Mic shook his head, pointing his chopsticks at you lightheartedly.

“By the time of the exam, there shouldn’t be a reason why I’m still at school. I need to finish work here before the hotel bill gets expensive. I want to go back to work soon.”

“Stay at the dorms then! We have all the room in the world. Unless…” Mic trails off, and you already know where this is going. “Personal feelings getting in the way of your job?”

You drop your spoon into the bowl tight-lipped. “I like my space,” you smiled.

“Space from who exactly?”

“Children,” you showed your teeth, hoping he’d get the hint.

Mic put his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! You don’t know who’s working at a hotel. Plus there’s more guests day in and day out than a rock festival. If someone knows what they’re doing, they can find what room you’re in. Swipe a keycard and mess with your stuff.”

“You think Akari would do that,” you asked.

“Were we looking at the right scene earlier?” You leaned back and clutched your nonexistent pearls at his sudden outburst. Mic shook his head, “what i’m trying to say is: If Kaneko finds out where you are, it’d be a huge blow to your plan. If you don’t want to stay at the dorms because of your gross personal feelings–” Mic gagged, rolling his eyes back dramatically. Which, admittedly, got a smile out of you. “Then you could stay at my place– it’s not like I’m using it.”

“No way.” You shook your head. “I don’t know what you have there!”

“My apartment’s clean! Cleaner than yours ever was– I remember your–” Mic said a term you didn’t know the meaning of followed by “Disgusting!”

“I wasn’t talking about those.”

“Because you can’t,” Mic interrupted.

You put a finger in the air, “I’m staying at the hotel. The hotel is close to the train station and I’ll have to travel around for the case anyway. If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave my research here.”

“And if Kaneko finds you?”

You leaned back from Hizashi, you grabbed your chopsticks and chose a random topping floating in the broth. Tilting your head, you pondered his question and thought about what the right answer should be. If Akari were standing in front of you, in your hotel room, after everything she did. Looking back up at Mic, you shrugged. “Let her.”

When the meal was done, you and Mic had to go your separate ways for the morning. He had no problem giving you a refresher on gamma’s location, despite your constant reassurances for him not to. As predicted, the directions confused you into taking longer to leave the building. A good general idea based on your memory, turned into a jumble of lefts and rights. Spotting for “this” symbol over “that” one. Somehow to the gym before Eraser and his class. No one was heading out of the school from where you can, either. Trying your luck you pushed the door open, leading to a hallway that seemed to be in an ‘L’ shape. Exploring further, you spotted the double doors leading inside the gym. These doors were locked, however.

You leaned on the door, not understanding why the class wouldn’t arrive earlier. Didn’t the staff want the first years to get their license as soon as possible? When the time came around for you, you’d rush to one of the training areas whenever you could. The ticking clock on the wall counted the seconds of your growing impatience. It made it hard to focus on your own thoughts. The off white tiles on the floor stretched out into a blurred vision of mind numbing boredom, then there was an aggressive prodding.

You slid to the floor– no one was near the building. The small hide away surrounding the entrance would be fantastic for cover if villains ever got into the school. The hall was nice and flat too. You could throw a baseball at a good angle, have it bounce off the wall and knock someone out like that one ti— you needed something productive. Taking your phone out of your case, you checked the notifications. Nothing. Then you looked at your laptop. No one was coming yet, you had another twenty minutes, why not check that too?

Pulling out the laptop, muscle memory took over. It came to a halt when the page wouldn’t load, no connection to the wifi it said. Checking the schools network, you were surprised to know Nezu never changed the password. Refreshing the page, you finally got into your account. The usual night crew should start their shift now. You moved the cursor to your workload and smiled seeing a red circle on your inbox link. When you clicked it you were happy to see you got a message from Gold Rush, the coworker who volunteered to work on the home-side of the case while you were away. Clicking on the message icon, you hoped he could tell you about what he found while you were in the infirmary.

Unfortunately, he just messaged you to say he just clocked in and wanted to see if you landed ok. It wasn’t what you wanted to read, you sighed, but replied about your progress. He put a thumbs up on the message. From there you had to strain your eyes to read the next block of text. Gold planned to take another look around your neighborhood, ask around to see if anyone saw Akari going into the building before your apartment was demolished— check out the damage again, if you were “okay” with it. When it’s over, he’ll send his notes on the last few days before his shift ends.

Pressing your lips together, you typed “thank you” then stuffed the laptop in your briefcase. Everything should be fine. Gold was the one who found the postcard Akari left when you were out. You worked with him at the agency for years at this point. He pulled his weight and kept up with you fine. He can hold down what little fort is left, while you’re here. Helping hero trainees.

You closed your eyes, already exhausted at the prospect of standing up again, but you pushed against the floor. Hold onto the wall. Seethe at some sharp pain in your side for a half-second.

See. Everything will be fine.

How could it not be?

You stretched your arms out and then walked in circles. After a minute or two, the pain didn’t hurt as bad. Maybe calories were all you needed.

Then there was a faint buzzing down your spine. No echoes in the halls. Just a ticking clock and your beating heart.

A jolt.

It must be a group outside. Eraserhead and his class finally showed– no doubt about it. You went for your briefcase, not taking your eyes off the hallway. When muffled voices reached your ears, you were perfectly in the center holding the case at your side. There was another jolt, then a surge hit you full swing. The pain was gone and you felt alive.

What a lively—and/or terrified— group! You forgot how strong teenagers felt about things. Yet again, the last you were around this many of them was when you were a teenager who felt just as strong. If they were told about the exam prior, they’re either rushing to get the ball rolling or having their heart explode over the deadline.

Turning the corner, the sea of students was technicolor. And louder than you prepped for. You took it all in. First impressions are integral to how citizens, and therefore judges, view a hero. What were you working with?

The boy with glasses looked like a knight with tubes coming out of his legs– a speed quirk probably? You could see civilians going to him to get them somewhere safe. If he was as strong as he looked, he could pack a punch on larger villains on the way out.

Two students reminded you of Present Mic when he was a teenager. Both of them, a boy and a girl wearing jackets that made them look like little rockstars! The boy had an electricity motif going on, so anybody can roughly guess what his power is—and the girl was wearing boots! And they had speakers? She must have a sound quirk like Mic, fantastic! If they play their cards right, they’ll never go broke.

While you can guess the quirk of those three, many students’ quirks were up in the air. One boy, with a nasty scar over his eye, wore a plain, navy blue jumpsuit. Another boy wore one with black, white, and a bit of yellow–who also had a mutation affecting his elbows, but you couldn’t guess what his quirk would be. At least he was stylish.

When it came to the girls' uniforms you were disappointed. The designers were STILL giving trainees heels! How are they supposed to run top speed in busted terrain? Unbelievable!

Noticing the girls’ inadequate footwear opened the floodgates on the design flaws on the others. Lack of armor and padding on the boy with a giant tail and the girl with pink skin. Lack of support for the tallest girl wearing a unitard exposing her vital organs. She could be like Midnight and need skin exposure, but you doubt the support company has never seen a sports bra before. The worst sin you bore witness to is a short, purple kid wearing a diaper—a self-respecting hero wouldn’t design that!

The students in front of the line stopped chatting among themselves. Some jumped at the sight of you. The rest of the class went quiet as they assessed you, this stranger, standing in the middle of their hallway where you don’t belong.

“I’m not a villain.”

No one laughed. The students’ expressions were vacant, they probably thought you were a dork. Your finger twitched as you thought of throwing your hand up and peacing out of there. Why did you volunteer for this position? You stood your ground and stared ahead. Judgemental teenagers won’t be the end of your resolve.

Eraser turned the corner, walking ahead of the silent crowd. “You showed up early.”

“I don’t show up late.”

Toward the end of the line of students Midnight waved at you as she stood with two other men. One looked like a cinder block-snowman, the other had a swanky trenchcoat and bared his teeth. You waved back at your friend, and a few students turned toward the back of the line. Eraser gestured to everyone, Midnight and the other two teachers included, to go inside the Gym. There’s something he had to take care of and he’ll be back in a minute, he said before giving the key to the boy with the knight outfit. The boy took the key with extreme duty, saying he was honored for the responsibility. Nice to know who the energetic one is.

Eraser handed you blue file folders, similar to the ones you put in your briefcase earlier then started walking ahead of you. He explained the folders had the quirks of the students you’re working with. He took you to another door he had to unlock. It was a sharp contrast to the bright hallways from before. Some cobwebs hung from the dim ceiling and the stair railing. This was the type of place a killer would drag a victim to hold them for a few days. When he turned the light switch on, it was still darker than the outside, but not the worst place you’ve been too.

Eraser approached the table against the wall holding a couple of computer monitors. He set up the tablet he tucked under his arm to the primary computer, explaining how to flip through the cameras. He said you can take notes on the tablet or in folders, but no matter what he’d need the tablet back. If you wanted anything to think over then you’d need to take notes manually, or bust out your own laptop.

“I know for the best results, you need time to study the students, but try to wrap it up in around the twenty minute mark,” he explained as he finished setting up. He rolled a chair from the right of the table for you to sit. After everything from earlier, it was hard to believe you both were being professional about this. He must really want his class to pass. “Time is short, and there’s a lot to see in-person too.”

You sat, swiveling the chair. “Got it. No loitering,” you tapped the screen experimentally and the camera shifted. Eraser didn’t react to the statement, but you knew better than to expect him too. You were just here for the job.

Eraser asked if you had anything you needed to know anything else. Scanning the room again, you settled on asking where the stairs led. Apparently, it was an observation room. He said you could watch the class up there with you and leave the equipment alone; but he knew for a fact why you wouldn’t.

You minded your manners and thanked him for setting up for you before he left for his class. You shook your head as the door shut, his class. Just as you said before, he may have been good with children, but Eraser being a teacher voluntarily was weird. Weirder being alone in a secret backroom.

The air brushed against your neck giving you chills. Where you sit, anyone can come behind you from either the stairs or the door if you weren’t mindful. You shifted the position of the chair’s seat toward the blank wall. With the stairwell’s rotation starting on your right and the table being under the “left” portion of the room, you should have better access to see everything that way.

Soon, Eraser entered Gamma. He talked to his class for a while. Safe to say, it was about the exam. Midnight stepped beside him, her finger pointing in the air, then Cinderblock did the same thing. It was a cult practice. After he spoke, he turned around and walked away from the group. The boy in the knight outfit was giving a reaction to the Smile Man. The man wasn’t opening his mouth though— were they having a psychic conversation? The knight was pleased by what the Smile Man told him. Other students were giving him weird looks, further proving the psychic theory.

Eraser spoke again and then the towers of rocks grew to the ceiling. Wait… You switch the camera view on one of the monitors and the structures reached 90% of the way to the ceiling. Back on the ground Smile Man threw up and more of himself formed, gross, but whatever gets the job done? The students were used to it at this point, because they were obviously hyped.

Starting now, you have twenty minutes to gather as much intel as possible. You clicked the screen to change the camera as fast as possible. The pink, moth girl worked with a substance oozing from her skin. A shorter boy, with a mutant quirk and a cloak, walked with Smile Man toward a farther corner of the gym to a cave structure. The boy with the tail started battling with a Smile Man and he was doing rather well. His combat skills were up-to-par, something undervalued considering not ALL villains are interested in leveling a city.

You switched the camera and nausea hit the back of your throat. The students were walking up the structures and there were no railings. OSHA would have a field day over these violations. Nausea hit you again when you remembered you’d have to join on said OSHA violations. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Eraser agreed to let you tutor his class to torment you. Like in the second you brought up the quid pro quo, he thought of the best way to make you quit and violate the agreement. Pushing the dread aside, you wrote as many notes on the students as you could before twenty minutes were over.

Fun fact: systems change all the time during American Licensing Exams. It’s part of the reason why first impressions matter so much. A good impression can add points, or prevent you from losing points in deduction-based systems. A bad impression will have the reverse effect, and frame everything someone does negatively. It’s easy to say only technical skills should matter, but you need to expect the people to have poor judgment if you want the students to succeed.

You looked at the time and saw you had four minutes before close. You rushed to finish your last thoughts on the student– the boy from the file earlier, so you can join everyone at the gym. You thought about what advice you should give to him. It was clear from how he hit he put a lot of thought into strength, but if he could work on his speed— You wrote it all down, but then you heard the most GRATING ring you can imagine coming from your side. You recoiled at the sound and saw the monitors were frozen. The tablet on your side blinded you with harsh, white light.

You squinted at the tablet, your head starting to hurt from the obnoxious, high pitch. You wanted it to stop. You shot from the chair, yanking the cords out of the device as it beeped at you for a password. On the screen, there was a crude image of two stick figures– an adult and a child.

Eraser put a parental lock on the tablet.

Taglist:

@lonelyghosts-stuff

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x you #retrospective by dot #aizawa x y/n #bnha aizawa

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nightingaleflow · 2 years

Note

You’re such a brilliant writer and there’s so much emotion in your stories , it’s just amazing. If it’s not too much to ask may you a Gaara x female S/O.

Gaaras been extremely stressed and exhausted from his work as the Kazekage and is beyond his breaking point. He has an extremely bad anxiety attack when he’s with his s/o from all of this and she comforts him: ❝ hey, just breathe. look at me— look at me. in and out. breathe with me okay? ❞

He’s so lost in his anxiety and exhaustion and is completely out of it he starts almost hallucinating but S/o is there for him.

Exams have been hectic for me, this would really make my day. Thank you writer 😊❤️

Here you go, little nonnie! Sorry this took so long. I hope your exams went well. <3

Stressed Out

WC: 1k Warnings: Stress, anxiety attack

Council meetings had always been among Gaara’s least favorite activities. At best, they were tedious, with debates about renaming things or color changes taking center stage. At worst, they were heated, with even the wisest among them devolving into screaming fits about changing a law that had been on the books since before any of them were born.

And it was the latter kind that had occupied not one, not two, but three separate meetings today.

Gaara tried his best to maintain his composure, but the constant yelling and hostility stressed him out. He found himself snapping at the other council members, and his sand repeatedly rattled in his gourd. Once, after a particularly nasty comment from a council member, the cork popped off and embedded in the wall behind him.

The man had wisely held his tongue after that, but that didn’t stop Gaara from wanting to throttle him with the sand.

Once the last meeting finally ended, Gaara whisked out of the room before anyone could address him further.

He hurried back to his office, slamming the door behind him without a care for anyone in the hall. Then he turned to his desk and narrowed his eyes.

Stacks of documents towered over the desk, leaving very little room for him to actually work. Scrolls. Loose papers. Books. It was like he was drowning in a paper ocean.

Gritting his teeth, he sat down and reluctantly picked up the first one in reach.

It was a budget report, with a sea of numbers detailing shinobi salaries and making suggestions for salary adjustments for the coming year. Gaara could already feel a headache coming on as he struggled to read the numbers.

He managed to make it about halfway through before the numbers swam around the page. His chest tightened and his head pounded as he tried to focus. Tears leaked from his eyes, and he angrily tried to wipe them away, but to no avail. They just came harder.

Gaara suddenly found himself short of breath. He forced himself to breathe slowly, trying not to let the stress overwhelm him. He tried switching to a different document in the hopes of finding something easier, but it was no use. He couldn’t even read the words on the page.

He threw the scroll across the room, then raked his nails through his hair as the tightness in his chest worsened.

Then, as he thought this day couldn’t get worse, he heard a knock on the door.

Great. More stress.

He turned to face the window and struggled to catch his breath. “Enter,” he said, his voice tight and hoarse.

The door opened. “Good afternoon, Gaara.”

Gaara closed his eyes. It was you, home after an extended mission to Kiri.

He was happy you were home and safe. He loved you dearly, and spending so many nights without you had started to take its toll.

But he did not want you to see him like this.

“Welcome home,” he managed. “How was your mission?”

“Everything went smoothly,” you replied, setting the mission report on his desk. Then you noticed he wasn’t turning around. “Is everything ok, Gaara?”

He closed his eyes, praying he could maintain control for just a moment longer. “Yes, my love. I’m just tired.”

You frowned and circled the chair before kneeling in front of him. “Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Gaara cursed silently as his breathing grew short. “I…” he choked. “I can’t…”

You reached up and gently stroked his face. “Gaara, look at me.”

He did, his expression pained and frantic.

“Just breathe,” you said. “With me. In…and out.” You took a deep breath, placing his hand on your chest so he could feel your chest rise and fall. You mirrored the action and were relieved to feel Gaara follow your lead.

“That’s it. One more time. In…then out. Nice and easy.”

Gaara copied your movement, his eyes never leaving your face. His shoulders slowly began to relax, and he breathed a little easier.

You pulled him into a gentle hug, whispering, “There you go, Gaara. You’ve got it.”

He buried his face in your chest, trying to muffle the sounds of his sniffles against your shirt.

“It’s ok,” you soothed, gently massaging his back. “I’m here, Gaara.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want you to have to see me like this.”

“Gaara,” you chided softly. “You’re human. You’re allowed to have emotions and bad days, just like the rest of us.” You pressed your lips against the kanji on his forehead. “I love you.”

The dam in Gaara’s chest fully broke. His body shook with sobs, clinging to you like a child.

You stayed right there, pressing more kisses into his hair as your hands traced small circles on his back. “It’s ok,” you whispered. “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

It took several minutes for his sobs to subside. But once they started to quiet down, you asked, “Why don’t we head upstairs for the rest of the day? I’ll make us some dinner and we can just relax.”

Gaara looked at the piles of papers on his desk, his anxiety rising again. “But if we leave all this work now, that’s just that much more I’ll have to do tomorrow.”

“And as it happens, I have a few days off now that I’m back from my mission.” You kissed his cheek. “I’ll come and help you. We’ll take it one step at a time and get everything done.”

“And if we can’t?” Gaara asked.

“Then we’ll keep going the next day. I promise, Gaara, I’ll help you get through all of this. But for now, I think you need a break.” You gently gripped his hand. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

He took one last look at the papers, then nodded. “Thank you,” he said as he stood.

“Of course,” you said, pulling him into a tight hug. “I love you.”

“And I, you.”

Tag List: @justmyownreality @therantingfangirl @mrsbakashi @anchy-bananchy @hashira-mal @allyallygator @nnandmm-archived-hard @rayofmirasol @therozpoz (if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know)

#nightingale writes #Gaara #Gaara x reader #Gaara x y/n #Gaara x you #Gaara imagines #Naruto #Naruto fanfiction #ask nightingale #anon #writing #my writing #fanfiction

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densi-mber · 6 months

Text

A/N: Once again, @mashmaiden is responsible for the premise of today’s story. We’re starting off Densimber with a whole lot of fluff.

***

It Takes a Village

The next morning, Rosa found herself still thinking about skipping the outside Christmas decorations. Maybe it was a silly thing to worry about, but she’d noticed how disappointed Kensi and Deeks seemed at missing out on part of the tradition, despite their attempts to brush it off.

Yesterday had been fun for sure, between sharing stories, adding Kensi’s ball of lights to the tree, and consuming their weight in cookies and the hot chocolate Rosa made. Somehow it didn’t have the same magic as the year before when they’d started decorating after everyone got home, needing to pull out lights to finish, and then all stood outside examining their efforts in the dark.

Since it was a Saturday, she met for a morning study session, and then was free for the rest of the day. As she waited for her coffee at one of the campus cafes, a plan started to form.

Heading for the student center, she looked around for one of the students who’d become a close friend in the last few months. Alex Swartz was tall, lanky and in two of her pre-law classes. He also spent the majority of his time outside of classes camped out at one of the tables outside the cafeteria.

“Hi Alex,” she greeted him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. He looked up from the book in his hands, instantly straightening as a smile stretched across his lips. In many ways, he reminded her of Marty. If only in his personality.

“Rosa, hey! I didn’t know you were coming in today. You should have told me,” he said.

“I just had a study session. What are you doing today?”

“Um, studying for my history exam and then I’m not sure what else,” Alex said, lifting an eyebrow. “Why?”

Rosa folded her arms on the table, leaning forward, and exhaled quickly. “How would you feel about coming to help me decorate my parents’ house while they’re out at an appointment?”

***

“Oh my god, those chicken strips smell amazing!” Kensi groaned, thumping her head back on the headrest of her seat. After a financial appointment, a trip to the grocery store, and stopping at the Dairy Queen drive through, she felt like she could easily eat an entire chicken. Not that the twins would allow that at this point in her pregnancy.

“I told you I don’t mind if you dig in,” Deeks reminded her as he pulled into their neighborhood.

“No, no. You just got the truck detailed. I’m not getting grease on the seats.”

“That’s true love,” Deeks teased. He turned the corner onto their street, slowing down to accommodate the various cars and trucks parked along the sides, and frowned at the two parked on either side of their driveway. One he recognized as Rosa’s, the other was a mystery.

“Is it just my imagination or are there three kids on our roof?” Deeks asked as he climbed out of the truck with a bag of groceries.

“Nope. There’s definitely kids on our roof, and if I’m not mistaken, they’re putting lights up,” Kensi replied, walking up the driveway with him.

“Hi, Mr. And Mrs. Deeks!” called out a dark-haired young man Deeks had met a couple times before, waving from his perch on the roof.

“Hey Alex,” Deeks drawled as Rosa appeared from the garage.

“Oh, Kensi and Marty, I didn’t expect you back so soon,” she said in a rush, hurrying towards them.

“Clearly. What’s going on?” Kensi asked.

Intertwining her hands a little nervously, Rosa pressed her lips together, which made her resemble Kensi remarkably, and let out a short breath. “I asked Alex and his roommates to come help decorate.”

“Rosa, that’s—”

“I know, I know. You said you didn’t care, but I know how much it means to you,” she interrupted, her accent increasing slightly as she spoke more quickly. “And you’ve done so much for me, always making sure I have the best, and sacrificing for me. I wanted to do something for you, even if it isn’t that important.”

She finished with a little shrug, and Deeks’ face crumpled at the uncertainty in her voice. Simultaneously, he and Kensi enveloped her in a hug. Rosa made a little “oof” sound as she was squished between them.

“That’s one of the sweetest things you could have done,” Kensi whispered. “Thank you.”

“Best present ever,” Deeks added, kissing the side of Rosa’s head. “Just for the record though, there isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for you, and you never have to repay us for any of it. Because we love you.”

“I love you, too,” Rosa whispered, and Kensi pulled back waving a hand in front of her face.

“Ok, we gotta stop before I start bawling in front of your friends.”

Rosa laughed wetly, hugging Kensi closer as she leaned into Deeks’ shoulder.

“Hey, Rosa, I thought you were going to come up here and help me,” Alex called out from the roof, breaking the moment.

Rosa rolled here eyes, pulling back with an apologetic shrug. “I’m supposed to do the eaves.”

“Be careful,” Deeks shouted after her, watching her jog back to the house. “Damn, we sure got lucky, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Kensi agreed softly, laying her head on his shoulder.

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #Rosa #densi family #pregnant Kensi #fluff #densimber 7.0 #densimber 2023 #densimber day 2 #by ejzah

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teddybasmanov · 2 years

Text

Since we all already know that I make lists in my sleep, baby I decided to make this too.

Alien ASMR roleplay recommendations

made by people who are to my knowledge not cancelled at the time of recording

Those are unfortunately far and few between and alien is the key word here - not just sci-fi, but necessarily containing an alien as at least one of the main characters. You know, the whole "never have I ever kissed a human" vibe.

These are all for gender neutral listeners and almost no yanderes.

Starline seasons one and two by the one and only Gav VA - two big series with a lot of lore and both plot heavy, first is a classical accidental abduction strangers to lovers, second is not less classical forced to work together enemies/rivals to lovers. Very lovely characters, adore both of them.

The Abduction series by Mage Bunkshelf - the last human alive abduction, a lot of confusion and cultural differences, yet again - the sweetest character, really want it continued.

The Specimen by The Storyteller - this is a legal abduction, everything is alright, you're being studied by a very excitable and flusterable researcher.

Alien Stranger part one and part two by Lyra VA - you're a badass and you're being rescued by the hottest and handsomest scientist with a V-neck going to his naval. He's really nice and lets you play with his hair.

Alien videos by Hollow_VA - unfortunately an unfinished series, loosely based on the "Alien" franchise about adventures with a caring alien on a space station where something very scary has happened.

Sadodere Pilot by Liu's Audio - you're semi-rescued by an alien pilot, who waxes philosophy and threatens to throw you out.

Alien Biomechanoid by Stygian Murmur - helping a big threatening looking guy after he had a crash landing and some negative experiences with humans.

Space Orc Series by Nightwatch ASMR - they're more afraid of you than you are of them - you're being studied by aliens, who treat you with caution.

Alien boy by Angels&Bread ASMR - a very cute alien saves you while struggling with the language barrier.

Center of the Universe and Alien Speed Dating and Abducted by a Kind Alien script fills by NaughtPlusZero - both are script fills, so you can find other versions of them. The first is sort of an isekai story, in which you're yet again being studied, the second is exactly what it says - speed dating a bunch of very different and interesting aliens, the third is a classical "abduction for your own good, let's be friends".

Encountering an Earthling (one, two, three) and The human touch script fill by Jupiter VA - in the series you're an alien, who tries to communicate with a human (and it's more difficult than you think); the script fill (yet again you can find other versions) is pretty sweet and explores the concept of an alien who has never experienced physical touch.

Intergalactic Dating Service by CardlinAduio - Cardlin has more alien audios, but not all of them are M4A and this one I just like more - a self-conscious alien thinks you're his soulmate.

Alien Interview and Alien Zookeeper by TheMusicalBoy'93 - the first one is the classical - abduction by a polite alien who wants you to tell them about humans and Earth and the second one... is why I put "almost" no yanderes up the - you're one of the last humans alive and you're being kept at a zoo by an alien who just has to be your sole owner. (I'm a sick bastard and I love it.)

The Space Pirates Saga one and two by Good Boy Audios - an extremely complicated series, very plot heavy, angsty, character dense and what not. It's difficult to say at this point who's the alien here.

Area 51 Cranial Nerve Exam by Jim ち ASMR - it might sound like a classical ASMR - even banal at this point - but it's not, it has a lot of details and a plot. Anyway, you're an alien who crush-landed in Nevada in the fifties and you're being tested by an Area 51 employee who's a little lost but has good intentions.

Feel free to add more!

#asmr roleplay #voice acting #gav va #mage bunkshelf #the storyteller #lyra va #hollow va #good boy audios #aliens #Jim ち ASMR

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lgbtqmanga · 1 month

Text

New Releases Mar. 19, 2024

The Contract Between a Specter and a Servant (novel) vol. 1 by Michiru Fushino

That was the worst day of Masamichi Adachi’s life. He failed the college entrance exam again, was fired from his part-time job, and to top it all off, was fatally injured in a hit-and-run. However, just as he was resigning myself to death, a stunningly beautiful man appeared and said to become his servant. In exchange for his life, Masamichi now works for the mysterious entity that runs an antique store…

Ennead vol. 2 by Mojito

BREATH MATCH

The first of three matches for the throne of Egypt has begun! Who will last the longest underwater without breathing? Horus may be determined, but he is no god, and Seth has both cunning and divine stamina on his side. Meanwhile, Isis has plans of her own to help her son…but will they be enough to ensure his victory?

Heat × Beat: I May Be an Omega, but I'm Going to Be an Idol! by Ken Homerun

Asahi wants nothing more than to be an idol, and when he's chosen as the latest member of boyband B-Marks he's over the moon. Except for one little detail; Asahi is an omega, and one of the other members, Madoka, is an alpha. Insisting on staying unmated to remain loyal to their fanbase, Asahi agrees to a “friends with benefits” arrangement to appease their hormonal urges without commitment. At least, that's what he intends…

How Do I Turn My Best Friend Into My Girlfriend? vol. 1 by Syu Yasaka

Minami and Yuzu have been besties since…well, forever! Or at least that’s what Minami thought. But when some rando confesses to Yuzu, Minami realizes that her feelings might not be what you’d typically call “friendship” anymore. It doesn’t take long for Minami to realize she wants to change their relationship status, but will she be able to muster the courage to confess? Or will she simply be happy being by Yuzu’s side?

I Can't Say No to the Lonely Girl vol. 1 by Kashikaze

Quintessential good girl Sakurai finds herself trapped in the middle of a bribery scheme. Her teacher offers to write a recommendation letter in exchange for luring a truant student into attendance. Sakurai pins down the reclusive transfer student Honda, but there are strings attached. Honda demands that Sakurai grant one wish every day. The first wish is a kiss—and Sakurai finds herself feeling very eager to please…

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady (manga) vol. 5 by Piero Karasu and Yuri Kisaragi

Lainie, the daughter of a baron, is the mysterious girl at the center of the scandal over Euphie’s broken engagement. Anis, the reincarnated princess, can’t help but feel there’s something odd about Lainie, so she conducts a checkup on her-and comes to a shocking conclusion! At the same time, Anis's brother Algard, the prince of Palettia, takes the lead in a grand scheme that’ll impact the whole kingdom…

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady (novel) vol. 6 by Piero Karasu and Yuri Kisaragi

When Anis and Euphie learn that vampires are threatening the Kingdom of Palettia, they scramble to formulate countermeasures. Then, an urgent message comes from the East, stating that a vampire has been captured-a powerful one with great ambitions!

Minato's Laundromat (manga) vol. 2 by Yuzu Tsubaki and Sawa Kanzume

Akira Minato, an ex-office worker who now owns a shabby laundromat, doesn’t know what to do when high school hottie Shintarou Katsuki professes his feelings for him. Still troubled over a past love that he never came to terms with, Akira wants to refuse-but he can’t quite bring himself to deny Shintarou’s straightforward passion. Meanwhile, Shintarou’s classmate, Asuka Hanabusa, decides to meddle in their affairs…

Mitsuka (manga) vol. 2 by akabeko

Leo is host at a nightclub, and he always thought he had no interest in men — until he slept with Takahiro, a sex worker who introduced him to pleasures he'd never felt before. Now, sex with women doesn’t satisfy him, and after begging Takahiro to sleep with him again, they agree to a “friends with benefits” arrangement.But just when Leo thinks he may be falling in love, one of his best customers asks him to sleep with her. Takahiro catches him in the act, and things take a dark turn…

Monthly in the Garden with My Landlord (manga) vol. 2 by Yodokawa

Sharing a house with the former pop idol Miyako is going smoother than Asako ever expected! But her cohabitant might not be having such an easy time?! Miyako suddenly finds herself harboring mysterious feelings towards her manga editor roommate. It’s then that she receives shocking news-her former idol unit is coming out of hiatus! Amidst all her confusion, Asako reaches out a hand of support…but can Miyako return to being the carefree landlord she once was?!

My Love Will Last Until the End of Time (manga) by Nanako Haida

Ever since he was a child, Hiroto's had memories of his previous life: a life where he reigned as the well-respected Prince Luke and fell deeply in love with a commoner… before cruel circumstance ripped the two of them apart. For years, Hiroto has searched for his beloved Mika to no avail— until a chance encounter on his college campus brings them together.But Kou, Mika's reincarnation, does not remember the past that share… and Hiroto finds himself wondering if that might actually be for the best, even as he yearns to tell Kou the truth. Their love has stretched across lifetimes, and so has the pain of their parting. Will Hiroto and Kou be able to find their happy ending together?

Number Call (manga) by Nagisa Furuya

High schooler Eighto Tachibana has always hated his name, including all of the jokes and puns about the number 8 that have come along with it. It's as if the number has haunted him like a ghost ever since he was a child. One day, he meets a classmate named Tomoya Hatta, aka Hachi--the Japanese word for “8.” What begins as casual greetings and small talk in the hallway soon becomes something much deeper, and Eighto realizes that it's more than just a similar nickname that draws him to Hachi. Could the number that Eighto resented for so long finally bring him something he'll love--and is that someone Hachi?

The Other World's Books Depend on the Bean Counter (manga) vol. 4 by Yatsuki Wakatsu, Kazuki Irodori and Kikka Ohashi

The expedition to clear the miasma is finally setting out-and Kondou is coming along with them! However, the depths of the forest are quite dangerous, even for the average human…Luckily, this intrepid bean counter has a handsome knight captain risking life and limb to protect him! But then, on their return journey, Captain Aresh catches him off guard with an unexpected declaration…

Rooming With My Two Lovers (manga) by Anji Seina

Atsushi's earnest and indecisive nature has gotten him into awkward situations before, but this one really takes the cake! Moving out of a bad situation and into a new living space, he somehow ends up rooming with his hot but perverted ex, Enraku, and the handsome and flirty barber, Shiki, two childhood friends and rivals who always end up falling for the same person.As the two take turns seducing him, Atsushi finds himself getting carried away with deep feelings for both men. But is it really possible for him to love Shiki and Enraku enough to keep them both?

Sailor Moon Naoko Takeuchi Collection (manga) vol. 7 by Naoko Takeuchi

Features the updated translation and high page count of the Sailor Moon Eternal Edition in a more affordable, portable edition. Perfect to go wherever you or the magical guardian in your life want to take it!

Thousand Autumns: Qian Qiu (novel) vol. 4 by Meng Xi Shi and Me.Mimo

Shen Qiao is a devout Daoist priest who has spent his life honing his skills and spirit, leading his sect with martial talent, beauty beyond measure, and an earnest heart. His polar opposite, Yan Wushi, leads one of the most powerful demonic sects and is said to be unrivaled in his strength and cunning. Yan Wushi believes in the inherently selfish nature of all people—himself included—and that nobody is above committing dark deeds for their own benefit.

When a fight leaves Shen Qiao injured, blind, and with hazy memories, Yan Wushi takes in the defeated sect leader with a dark plan: test the limits of the man’s patience and faith in others to lure him onto the demonic path. Little does he know that he is about to meet the first immovable force of his life, and that two hearts can connect in unexpected ways. With the passing of a thousand autumns, who can stay eternal?

Welcome Back, Alice (manga) vol. 6 by Shuzo Oshimi

Yohei, Kei and Yui are childhood friends and things get complicated when Yohei witnesses Kei and Yui in an intimate moment. But when unexpectedly Kei moves away and returns a few years later to reunite in high school, he seems to be a bit different. How will relationships change in this latest volume?

#new releases #manga #lgbt manga #queer manga #light novel

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emberfrostlovesloki · 4 months

Text

Not Your Girl [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left and Right (@sugarcoatedvein) Center (@lilacprentiss)

Prompt: When the Non-BAU!reader has something big to tell Emily, they pick the worst way to tell her.

Pairing: Emily x nonbinary!reader. The reader is AFAB and uses they/them pronouns for most of the story.

Category: fluff/comfort

Word Count: 2.9K

Content Warnings: Mentions of bad gym culture, mention of fitness and exercise, a slightly fatphobic comment [directed at Penelope by a gym bro], breakups, light drinking, and swearing. If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: Just some fluffy reader coming out to Emily as nonbinary and them reflecting about the course of their relationship. This is another @imagining-in-the-margins post based on the fabulous January and February writing challenge. This one is from her dialog prompts: “I love every iteration of you.” I just know Emily would support you no matter what. I am glad this isn’t a novel. I love my longer work, but this was a nice change. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you do enjoy this, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great end of your week. Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_y/d/h_ = your dominant hand

_y/j_ = your job

_y/f/s_ = your favorite show

“Emily, I don’t think I can be your girl anymore.” The look on Prentiss’s face told _y/n_ instantly that they’d phrased that wrong. With Emily being such a chronic overthinker, it was a poor choice of phrase. _y/n_ saw the look of insecurity and maybe sadness play out on Em’s face, and before _y/n_ could say anything, Prentiss asked, “Are you breaking up with me, _y/n? I thought we were doing good/” _y/n_ shook their head no rapidly and said, “Em. I’m not saying that at all, just let me explain.” Em sat back in her kitchen chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and said, “Please do,” _y/n_ took a deep breath. They knew Emily loved them. Had loved them for nearly a year, and the reactions _y/n_ was getting made sense given Emily’s past of being dumped just when a relationship seemed to be working out. However, the defensive wall _y/n_’s partner had so easily thrown up after months of breaking them down now had _y/n_ concerned. What if Emily wouldn’t love them like this? Emily’s hyper-focus on details and consistency was rubbing off on _y/n_and made them question whether or not to share the truth. But in a second, their whole relationship up till that point flashed before _y/n_’s eyes. It had started in the gym.

It was all thanks to Penelope, who had made a New Year's resolution to move more. Nothing more than that. No weight loss goals, no need for a summer body, just a desire to move because it felt good. Emily was happy to help Garcia out because she had made a bet with Derek in October about the upcoming FBI fitness test in March. Prentiss had overheard Morgan telling another male agent, who was overconfident and under-muscled for the claims he was making, that he was going to beat all of his personal bests in the fitness test. Emily scoffed and said, “Really Derek. You say that every year.” Morgan looked over to Em and replied with a teasing tone, “And I mean it every year. You wanna make a bet on it?” Prentiss knew this was all in good fun, and said, “You’re on. What are the terms?” Derek steepled his hands and replied, “If I don’t get personal best’s next exam, then you can set me up on a blind date. But, the same goes for you. You’ve got to beat all of your personal records, and if you don’t, then I set you up on a blind date.” Emily smiled because this was the exact kind of shenanigans they got into when she was more relaxed between cases. It gave both her and Morgan something to think about outside of work. Prentiss stuck out her, and Derek took it while saying, “You’re on.” So, when Penelope talked about wanting to move more, Emily recommended the Zumba class she took on Saturday evenings. Penelope was hesitant at first, but when Em described it as “angry dancing,” Garcia got on board quickly.

Emily hadn’t believed in Zumba either, that was until her pilates class got canceled one day. Zumba was the only class on offer and despite her hesitations, Prentiss went. Prentiss was so happy that she did because the class turned out to be very relaxing and a good workout at the same time. It didn’t hurt that the person next to her was very cute in their _y/f/c_ crop top and long socks. Prentiss started coming back to Zumba more and more, and the young woman was always there just vibing with the music no matter what was going on. Their positivity was infectious. When Penelope joined the class for a session a week later, Emily and the tech genius had a great time. So good a time that they agreed to go to drinks after because what was the point of working out if you couldn’t have some fun as a reward? As the duo passed by the weight room, one of the gym bros waiting for a squat rack to open up looked over at Emily and said, “Hey babe, wanna come over here and spot me? And maybe you should tell Blondie to come back sometime. She might fit in here.” Emily was so mad that the man had commented about her friend, who was happy and healthy, that she just froze. The man laughed at Penelope’s hurt face, but a voice from behind Emily and Garcia wiped the smile off his face real quick as _y/n_ said, “Hey, asshole. Let me tell you something. Muscles don’t fucking mean anything if there’s not a heart underneath all of them. So keep pumping iron, but consider getting a brain and some self-awareness before commenting on someone you don’t know and is a hell of a lot braver than you because she showed up despite having to deal with dickheads like you.” At _y/n_’s comments, both Emily and Penelope looked at _y/n_ with wide, impressed eyes. Emily knew _y/n_ immediately. It was the woman she had been secretly admiring for a month now. The woman’s beauty was amplified as she demonstrated not only energy, but didn't tolerate bad behavior, and standing up for someone she didn’t know. When the guy at the rack moved toward them, particularly toward _y/n_ with a frown on his face. Emily stepped in front of _y/n_ and said with all the authority of an FBI profiler, “Sit down.” The man hesitated. Finally, he moved back to where he was with his head down, muttering under his breath.

While Em was using her scary dog privileges, _y/n_ pulled Penelope toward the stairs saying, “Don’t listen to that douch bag. You were great in class.” Garcia smiled and said, “Thanks. That was nice of you to say. I’m Penelope Garcia, by the way.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I’m _y/n_, _l/n_. Nice to meet you, Penelope.” As they started talking, Emily joined them, and Garcia introduced _y/n_ to Prentiss. Pen asked _y/n_ if she wanted to join them for drinks. _y/n_ who hadn’t made many friends since moving to D.C., agreed. As _y/n_ and changed in the dressing room, _y/n_ couldn’t help but look at Emily and admire her strength. _y/n_ had been looking at Emily since she’d joined the class. Unfortunately, _y/n_ was terrible with flirting and asking people out, so the admiration had been one-sided. At least she thought it had been. At the bar, the trio’s conversation was natural and easy. More than that, Penelope could see how Emily was looking at and talking to _y/n_ like she was the most important thing there. When _y/n_ had gone to the restroom, Garcia had said, “Emily if you don’t ask her out at the end of this get-together, I’m going to scream.” Prentiss retorted, “Pen, I just know her from the gym and this meeting. Don’t you think that’s moving a little fast?” Garcia smiled, now knowing for sure that Emily liked _y/n_. The tech replied, “Emily's life is short, if she says no, then you can move your pining elsewhere.” Garcia took a long sip of her Cosmo before adding on, “ By the way _y/n_ was giving you the same big doe eyes you were giving her, so…” And that was how _y/n_ had been asked out on a date by Emily.

The first date was at a local farmers market. _y/n_ and Emily strolled the stalls, got lemonade, and sat in the shade as a local band played in the background. They talked about their hobbies and dating preferences. That was there _y/n_ had learned that Em was mostly dating women at this point in her life. And Prentiss had learned that _y/n_ was new to dating women. They’d said, “I’m just trying to figure everything out. I hope that doesn’t sound dismissive. I just want to be honest, when it comes to dating, sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing, But if you’re willing to put up with me, I’d enjoy figuring it out with you.” Emily had agreed, and they went on a second and third date. Over time _y/n_ learned about the team and why Emily could be so serious sometimes and more relaxed when she was not on a case.

One night at _y/n_’s house, while cooking dinner, _y/n_ admitted, “You know, I didn’t realize that dating and being interested in women was an option until way later in my life. I feel like I spent years looking for the perfect person and love at first sight, but I wasn’t ever looking in the right place.” Em nodded as she stirred the pasta in with the sauce; she replied, “I get it. Being sheltered does things to you that other people might not understand. It was such a relief to me when I figured out I could just like both. And it was more of a relief when I realized that dating doesn’t have to end in disappointment.” _y/n_ wrapped their arms around Emily’s waist and kissed the agent’s neck saying, “I’m happy too, Emily.” _y/n_ had heard Prentiss lightly reference her hesitation about dating a few times, and _y/n_ wondered if there was more to the story. _y/n_ felt that it was far enough in their relationship and asked, “Em, would you tell me what happened? Why you were so averse to dating when we met?” Prentiss turned to _y/n_ and sighed before saying, “I guess I owe you an explanation about why I seemed too hot and cold and the beginning there.” Em turned off the heat on the stove and led _y/n_ to the table. Once they sat across from each other, Emily said, “I was in a committed relationship for a year last year. I thought everything was perfect. The girl, my life, work. I thought I’d finally figured it out. I was going to propose. And then a case happened. A bad one. I got hurt. I called my then-partner, and she was hysterical. I tried to make her feel better, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She was so attached that the idea of me being hurt, of me dying on the job pushed her away. When I got home, she was gone. She took all of her stuff. It was like she never existed. I tried to call her, but she never responded. And the thing is, I get it. Anything could happen. Not everyone can deal with those odds. I don’t blame her.” _y/n_ listened and felt sorry for Emily to have been abandoned like that. _y/n_ said, “You might have understood her reasoning, but she might have told you goodbye or explained. I’m sorry you went through that, Em. Just letting you know, I don’t plan on going anywhere.” Prentiss smiled and said, “Thanks _y/n_. Do you mean that even if I can’t cook?” _y/n_ tipped her head to the side and Emily, who was facing the stove said, “Because I turned off the wrong burner and that pasta is definitely burning.” Just as _y/n_ looked back at the smoking pan on the stove, the fire alarm went off. After _y/n_ and Emily handled the situation with the crispy food, they both laughed long and hard. Em took _y/n_ out to dinner instead, and that was where they’d made their relationship official. They moved on slowly, and to _y/n_’s words, she stuck with Em through the highs and lows. And Emily did the same for _y/n_. Weathering life together, they realized, was much more enjoyable than being alone. Even in the hard times and arguments. And this reassurance made _y/n_ feel strong enough to tell Em the whole truth.

All of the care and love that they had shared. All the late nights and early mornings. _y/n_ knew that that kind of love didn’t just go away because things changed. So _y/n_ took a deep breath and replied, “I can’t be your girl anymore because I think I’m… nonbinary.” The words hung there for a few seconds before Prentiss’s face changed from one of confusion to one of unbridled joy. Em put both of her hands across the table, and _y/n_ took them in hers. All Emily said was, “Really? For how long sweetheart?” Prentiss had noticed the subtle changes in _y/n_’s behavior and mannerisms. Of course, she had. But Emily didn’t want to read into things or press _y/n_ into talking about things she might not want to. _y/n_ took a breath and said, “Maybe a month or a little more. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but it finally clicked after we did that charity 5K with the team.” Prentiss nodded. That had been an interesting afternoon, but she didn’t realize how much it had meant to _y/n. _y/n_ looked at Emily’s face. Even though it was jubilant, _y/n_ had to make sure. Had to hear from Emily, and _y/n_ asked, “So you’re not upset? I know you prefer dating women, but I’m not that anymore I guess.” Emily pulled _y/n_’s hands to her mouth and kissed over both sets of _y/n_’s knuckles before saying, “Of course, I’m not upset, _y/n_. You’re telling me who you are. Who the real you is. That takes courage and reflection, and I love that about you. You never back down from a challenge or a hard thing. Even if that hard thing is understanding yourself.” _y/n_ wasn’t sure why Emily’s positive words were having such an effect on them, but _y/n_’s eyes teared up, and they had to pull _y/d/h_ out of Em’s to wipe them away with their shirt sleeve. _y/n_ laughed and said, “At least I’m still emotional as I’ve always been.” That had Prentiss laugh and say, “_y/n_. Just because you feel differently about your body or gender doesn’t mean you’re just going to change in an instant. If you feel like you need to make changes, then that will happen, but you’re still you. You’re still the person I love. I will always love.” Em took a breath, feeling emotional herself before she said, “I love every possible iteration of you.” _y/n_ sniffled and asked, “What did I ever do to deserve you, Em?” They were both beaming now, and Prentiss replied, “I could ask you the same thing, _y/n_. And you know we can play at compliments forever, but do you want to talk about this more? Or do you just want to be for a bit?” _y/n_ put their chin in their hand and said, “How about a bit of both? I feel like this could be a couch conversation.

Couch conversations were when _y/n_ and Emily sat and talked about their days. Em would talk about the office drama or the latest case, while _y/n_ dove into the details of _y/j_ and what was happening there. The couch was a place for relaxed conversation with _y/f/s_ playing in the background while they talked and laughed or complained together. Big conversations happened at the table. It was an unspoken system between them. Given Emily’s hectic and stressful life, it worked for them. As _y/n_ looked at Emily’s hand and they moved to the couch, _y/n_ wondered why they’d started this conversation at the kitchen table. _y/n_ tossed this choice, the table or the couch bounced in their head like a ping-pong ball. It was a big deal. This kind of discovery was, and talking about it with Emily was even more important, but at the same time, realizing this new facet of themself just felt like them. It finally felt like them. Because _y/n_ wasn’t sure what to make of it, they asked Prentiss because _y/n_’s partner always had something understanding to say. Sometimes _y/n_ thought Emily knew them better than they knew themself. _y/n_ chalked it up to the profiling. Once they were both seated and the TV was on low, _y/n_ asked, “Did I make this too big a deal?” Emily turned her head to _y/n_ and moved her hand to _y/n_’s jaw, stroking down _y/n_’s face. Even though Em had never had the feelings _y/n_ had about their gender, she had felt unsure about her sexuality. She understood how it felt like everything and nothing at the same time. Prentiss said, “Not at all, _y/n_. It wasn’t too big or too small. It’s important to you in the big way, and in the small mundane life things, and I’m excited to explore all of those intricacies with you. The highs and the lows. I am so excited to be with you no matter what. No matter who you are.” At that moment, _y/n_ fully understood that Emily knew them. And feeling known right now made _y/n_ feel like the most real version of themself as they’d ever been.

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