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ravengards-rogue · 2 months

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i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

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weebsinstash · 16 days

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I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #alastor x reader #hh #sinprompts #god do you ever think about how people in hell feel miserable if their family is on heaven #you dont WANT your loved one to be suffering in hell but... if thwy were at least you could still see them #catch me crying out here piss drunk to alastor because my mom/granny are in heaven and he nods knowingly bc his mom isnt down there either

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almond-gallery · 3 months

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an enjolras because i miss him

#les miserables #les mis #enjolras #never forget your roots...#now that im done with my orv reread i want to reread lm bc one long sad book wasnt enough #dear les mis friends who may or may not be reading these tags. have you heard of omniscient reader #do you want to read a long long novel that will make you a bit sad.#with a protagonist thats kind of an everyman but also kind of not. who is a bit over self-sacrificing #and has an adoptive daughter #have you read orv. will you read orv. when will you read orv #i'll stop proselytizing now. goodbye

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earthtooz · 1 year

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one big brain dump tbh but a lot of fluff and swearing !

you fall for bakugou katsuki first.

he's unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with in the hero world. many have had their eyes on bakugou ever since he was a mere hero course student. safe to say he did not disappoint.

now climbing to one of the top hero spots, dynamight is widely adored by japan. despite crowning one of the most 'undesirable' personalities a hero can have, his fans equated him to a pomeranian and moved on to the latest papparazi photo taken at the time.

before the public, you adored bakugou katsuki first.

as a classmate, he pushed you to your limit without even knowing, invigorating you with a spirit to keep fighting. as a friend (you got there in the end), he entertained you with his grumbling, liked to carry your bag for you despite your reluctance, and kept you company throughout rigorous study periods.

somewhere along the way, you realised you adored bakugou katsuki, a lot more than friends should.

now as a coworker in his agency, he keeps you company during late hours, sends you off on missions with a 'come back alive, idiot', and delivers you gifts when things are going rough.

fate plays her cards and bakugou katsuki now finds himself falling even harder for you. five years after your revelation.

when he looks you in the eye there is something akin to determination in them and it alights pure admiration in his veins. despite your kindness, you are strengthened by ambition and purpose alone, and he finds himself caught in your magnetic field.

but these newfound feelings come to him as effortlessly as water flows down a stream after a downpour; destined to feel this way for you, helpless against the currents of life. after a long drought, he feels refreshed and rejuvenated by the energy you bring to his life.

he loves the little notes you stick on his desk, often paired with smiley faces, stupid jokes, or reminders that range from 'drink water!' or 'see you at the meeting at 1! :p'. he loves the daily lunch runs you have together, sometimes it's easier to get to work when he knows you're there with him. he loves that you're workout buddies, always giving him extra 'fun' challenges during his session by sitting atop him during push-ups or planks, or clinging to him like a koala as he does pull-ups.

bakugou katsuki loves you so naturally that you've been embedded in the little cracks of the hectic lives you both lead.

you're his homescreen and lockscreen, there's a plushie you gave him in third year sitting in his large-ass bedroom, there's a photo of you and him on his office desk, even more polaroids at home, and there's a designated mug for you in his cabinet for when you come over. it's used approximately twice a week.

bakugou doesn't want to show it, really, he doesn't, but he finds himself staring at you too often, too softly. there's a multitude of paparazzi photos of you two, the cameras catching the obvious shift in his eyes when it's you he's next to, looking at you with a grin as you ramble excitedly to him.

mina's never fails to send one whenever she sees them.

she even sent him a photo that was taken whilst he was walking through the street, too engaged with his phone to realise cameras pointed at him. the wild part is that there is a gentle, heartfelt smile etched on his face.

‘texting y/n? down bad.’

the acid user was blocked that day. she was right though.

the sad part is that he can recall exactly which text you sent that had him that giddy; it was a selfie of you and a pomeranian from patrol, paired with some joke that you found bakugou whilst out. whilst he would've blown anyone up who made the comparison to his face, he found himself zooming in on your bright smile, heart aching with a familiar longing.

he hates you. he hates you so bad that it hurts not to have you.

every reminder that you weren't his pains him even more. at his core, bakugou is nothing more than a bitter, jealous son of a bitch, but he can't help it. he's sacrificed too much to get to the top, but he doesn't want to lose you.

not when you look so beautiful- so ethereal laughing with that extra ‘hero’, monoma. under the gala lights, in your outfit, you were truly beautiful, and bakugou finds himself stunned by your allure, stomping over to you in a vulnerable moment of bewitchment.

he doesn't know how many people he pushed aside in the crowd, ignoring their grunts and gasps to reach you.

you, sweet, radiant, undeniable you find him first, meeting him in the middle with an even brighter smile.

despite being in the middle of a stuffy, packed floor, filled to the brim with heroes, sidekicks, reporters and managers alike, it is only you and bakugou. the intimacy causes him to feel overwhelmed by your glow; the tie he's donning suddenly tightening around his neck, causing him to choke on his words.

there's a sudden urge to get to his knees and start praising the ground you stand on.

"hi," you murmur.

"hey,” he responds, briefly scanning you up and down. “you look nice.”

you laugh at his compliment, masking the violent heartbeat of your chest. "thank you, katsuki. i think you look dashing."

the blond offers you his arm. you take it without much thought. "of course i do. if i wanna stand next to you i have to look worthy of it."

you fall first for bakugou katsuki.

but he's waiting at the bottom to catch you in his arms.

#i love the 'falls first but falls harder' trope... it's so cute... and i failed miserably #subpar writing #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo imagine #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader

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laiiaaa · 9 months

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Just thinking about Carmen with a gf who has an attitude and he just takes it bc he’s so head over heels for her.

She stops by The Bear for family but brings some work with her that she really needs to get done, and Carmen pops into the office—just to check on her! “Baby, d’you want some water?” or “Lemme make you somethin’.” or “You alright?”

And all she does is say “Carm, I’m busy. Go away.” or “Leave me alone.” with a tone that has him pouting even though he’s used to it by now. Carmen sighs and walks out of the office like an idiot, grabs her a glass of water anyway (he can’t help it ok???), and drops it off beside her with a kiss on her cheek and a hand on her shoulder that she more or less ignores.

And Richie’s watching all this go down, cackling when she snips at Carmen: “Cousin, she’s got you on a leash.”

And Carmen just tells him to “Fuck off.” because that’s his girl and he’s just happy to see her <3

#can u tell that i’m the gf with an attitude #u can’t convince me he wouldn’t be like this #i love that sad sad miserable man!!!#he’s just so sappy #happy to be there #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #carmen berzatto fluff

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eyelessfaces · 5 months

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meowyn davis reblog if you agree

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 5 months

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katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things

he hates people who walk slow, he hates people who chew loudly or people who talk loud in places they know damn well they shouldn’t.

he hates when people walk on the back of his shoe and he hates idiots like kaminari who talk during movies.

but most of all, katsuki bakugou hates seeing you cry.

it sparks something in him, something red, hot and so angry when he finds you in your dorm. tears running down your cheeks that show no sign of stopping. he hates it even more when you make eye contact and you curl into yourself even more from where you’re sitting on the floor.

katsuki immediately decides this is the thing he hates the most.

he’s on you in seconds, kneeling in front of you, searching around to get a peek of your face hidden in your knees. he places his hands on top of yours where they’re wrapped around your legs and his chest tightens when you flinch a little.

“ who was it ? who did this to you ?” he can’t recognize his own voice, his words come out so fast he barely registers what he’s saying.

you try to speak but nothing but more broken sobs and shaky breaths come out as you desperately try to catch your breath and katsuki realizes that you talking isn’t a priority right now.

his eyebrows are furrowed and he almost looks angry but he’s so, so worried. if anything, he’s angry at himself for being so helpless, for not being able to help you in a time where you clearly need it.

he grabs your shoulder softly and the weight his chest lightens slightly when you lean a little closer to him, before letting him pull you tightly into his arms

“breathe for me.” he utters softly, voice gruff and gravelly. he never actually talks this softly unless he’s around you, the difference is so stark it surprises him a little bit but he’s got more important things to think about. praise spills from him occasionally, muttering a “you got it. i got you” into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

katsuki’s never really had to comfort anyone, he’s never felt the need to, but you’re not just anyone. your different, you’re his. his love his everything and he’ll be damned if he didn’t try his hardest for you.

you’ve calmed down a little bit, he noticed. you’re breathings calmed down a little and your sobs have been reduced to snivels. the tightness in his lungs is still there, but it’s less now.

“what’s goin’ on with you, hm ?” you’re grip tightens on his arm and you shove your head deeper into his chest. he moves his head away from your shoulder so he can place two small kisses on the top of your head

“talk to me, baby. needa know what’s up with you.” he pleads into the crown of your head. you sigh before speaking up.

“ i don’t know what’s up with me i just- it’s nothing bad i’m—” you’re desperately searching for the right words to use so what you’re about to say makes sense. “i just don’t—feel like myself today. i don’t know why, i just feel really bad today.” you let out a humorless chuckle and your voice dies out when you finish “m’sorry if i worried you” you sniffle.

he shushes you, his grip on you tightens when he hears you whimper “don’t..don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, got no reason to.” he spits. he sounds angry, and he is, why should you ever feel the need to apologize for feeling some type of way around him ?

“s’okay for you to feel that way..i do too, sometimes, you know ?” he knows you do. he knows you do because there are times where he comes to your room in tears, shaking and panicked. completely and utterly lost from the nightmares that had plagued him minutes before but knowing he had to come see you. you were there for him every time, gently soothing him and assuring him that he’d be okay. he owed it to you to do the same for you.

“s’okay to feel like shit sometimes, happens to the best of us.” he whispers “ but you can always come to me when you do, can deal with it together. an’ don’t go thinkin’ yer ‘bothering’ me either.” he says, parroting what you had just told him. “we’re together for a reason, dummy.” he’s soft spoken and his voice is so mellow despite his harsh little nickname for you, you could’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting so close to you, it makes you a little dizzy and a little weaker in you’re already mushy knees.

he grabs your shoulders gently to get your eyes on him. they’re still a little glossy but they’re a little less dull when he looks at you “ we’re in this together, always have been, always will be, got it ? “ he asserts, waiting for your response. and then you smile at him, it’s faint but it’s there and katsuki feels like he can breathe again. he smiles back softly at you when you respond with a soft “okay.”

you suddenly grab onto him and pull him into you tightly, locking him in a tight embrace and squeezing like you’re pressing a lemon. it throws him off for a second before he’s squeezing you just as hard, pressing your body against his.

“thank you, katsuki. you’re the best” you hum. he presses a long lingering kiss to your temple as response, before squeezing around your waist “ course i am.” he gloats. the smirk on his lips grows when you snort in response “what’re you laughing about, hah? don’t think so? don’t think i’m the best ?” he jests, using this as an opportunity to tickle you mercilessly. you kick and squirm but it’s no use, katsuki doesn’t stop until you’re a heaving , giggling mess. tears in your eyes as you plead and beg for him to stop but he doesn’t let up even when you’re laying on the ground with him on top of you.

“ i ain’t hearing what i wanna hear, you know what i want from you, baby.” he chuckles at the way you desperately gasp for breath, choking on your own spit in the process.

“y-you’re the ! the best, ‘suki ! the b-bestest of the best !” you gasp out, pushing blindly at his face to get him away from you and he finally let’s you go. “felt nice enough to let you off with a warning, won’t end well for ya if you try me again.” is what he says, playfully warning you and waving his finger around in your face. you’re completely out of breath, there are tears in your eyes again but they’re happy tears this time and you still can’t stop smiling and giggling as you try to bite at his finger and katsuki is more than happy with this.

because katsuki’s favorite thing is your smile.

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lord-squiggletits · 2 months

Text

I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #i'm sure the doylist reason for the writing is just that pharma was a designated villain #so since he's a villain and 'crazy' it's fine for everyone even the good guys to treat him like complete trash #i just think from a watsonian perspective taking a sympathetic approach is way more interesting and logically consistent #what i mean is like. from a meta perspective one of the best ways to show that a character is super evil and not worth saving #is when even the good guy heroes. the ones who are supposed to be kind and compassionate and wise. see him as dirt #and this is also kind of a necessity in most plots bc TF is the kind of series that just needs action villains and long-term antagonists #so not every villain is written or has a plot to be made redeemable. and pharma is one of these bc he's not important or a legacy character #so from a doylist (meta) perspective you could read the autobots' disregard of pharma as a sign of #'this guy is not meant to have your sympathy as a reader. pay no attention to him'#but from a watsonian (in universe) perspective it paints a miserable picture of pharma being utterly forsaken by the ppl he served alongsid #and like yeah i'm super autistic about pharma so of course i view him with sympathy but like #the idea of being a loyal and good person for years only to be subjected to a Torment Nexus of #being blackmailed into breaking all of the oaths you held sacred. under threat of you and all your comrades dying horrible torturous deaths #then when your comrades find out about it they focus solely on the 'harvesting organs' and not on the 'blackmail' part #and then you get literally left for dead by your comrades and best friend hating your guts #and then you get rescued by a guy who uses you as a test subject for his evil machine #this is a fucking nightmare scenario like pharma could hardly be suffering more if the author TRIED to make him suffer #and for me it's like. the evil pharma did can't be decontextualized to what drove him to that. as well as the question of like #how easily ppl can write someone off as evil and turn a blind eye to (or even find satisfaction in) their suffering bc theyre evil #and either brought it on themselves or it's just karma paying a visit #like. i feel like if pharma WERE a shitty doctor and a terrible person his whole life then the delphi situation would feel like karma #but the way it's written and the lore retroactively put in makes it feel more pharma getting thrown in a torture carousel #and THEN becoming evil. but then being treated as if he was always evil or was some sort of bad apple #bc like i'm not opposed to LOLing when a villain gets a karmic torture/death related to the wrongs they committed #but in pharma's case it feels less like karma and more like endless torture + being abandoned by ppl who should have been more loyal

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rreids · 16 days

Text

OUT OF IT • A. HOTCHNER X READER

sad aaron; angst; fluff (only in his memories, the italicized sections); mentions of marriage; nonspecific case details; pet names; kissing; low self-worth implied on his end; insecurities; no happy ending; ~1.5k please listen to and / or read the lyrics to merry bad ending by the boyz and someone new by hozier. imagine hozier sadder, please.

Aaron is distracted.

He knows as much, and he feels sorry to his team every time it happens. He can’t help it, though. Whenever there’s a lull in the action, the ease of tension in a high-stakes case, his mind wanders.

Memories of soft skin and nicely scented hair, scratchy clothes falling to the ground. Of more innocent moments too, dates on beaches late at night — like you’re college kids again, feet sinking in wet sand and laughing under the moonlight between stolen kisses and whispered words.

‘Aaron,’ your whispered voice mumbles, and he feels you trace your fingers over his jawline. ‘Pay attention, gorgeous,’

“Hotch!” He snaps out of it to Morgan’s voice. “Man, what’s going on with you?”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well.” That’s the lie he tells most often now. When he’s asleep, he’s the calmest and happiest he’s been in months. “What’s happening?”

“We’re ready for the profile. Gonna sit this one out?”

Aaron sighs. “Maybe. I don’t think I’ll be much help to the team.”

Derek studies him, jaw tensing for a few moments as he thinks. “Come back when you’re ready, Hotch. Team needs you.”

He nods.

He finds himself sitting in a room with the case files, reading aimlessly over the same sentences as his mind wanders again.

‘Aaron!’ Your voice squeals, light and happy. Your giggles break up your words, and he grins against the skin of your neck where he peppers wet kisses. ‘It tickles!’

‘Shh,’ he coos, tracing his fingers up and down your side. You squirm under the feather-light touch, body shaking with laughs even as they become silent. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

You lean back and sit up slightly as he trails his fingers over your spine. ‘If you don’t kiss me, right now, I’m going to scream.’

Aaron chuckles and leans up to kiss you, sweet and gentle, lips slightly chapped as they meld to yours.

‘Baby, baby,’ you pull back after a few minutes, having only pulled back enough to breathe. ‘It’s late. You have work.’

‘Mm, wanna keep kissing you,’ he shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. ‘Sweeter than anything that happens at work,’

‘Well, you do work for the FBI,’ you laugh, kissing his nose and smiling as his whole face scrunches up at the sensation. ‘C’mon. Bed with you.’

‘You’re not coming?’

‘‘Course I am, but I need to get ready separate from you. You can’t keep your hands to yourself.’

‘I’m not handsy.’ Aaron sulks.

‘Yeah, you are,’ you laugh and fully climb off, ignoring the forlorn look he gives you. ‘Go on, go brush your teeth. I’ll be in in a bit.’

The weight of missing you crushes him. The only moments he can breathe are the moments when he pictures the softness of your skin and your lips, the sweetness of your smile and the sound of his name on your tongue, the moments he pictures you next to him.

It’s agonizing, to have his heart stutter — not from you surprising and flustering him, but from the pain of realizing you’re gone —, to have his breathing hitch out from sobs as he realizes how much he ruined it all.

He blinks back the sting of tears and focuses on the case file.

There were women missing. Not missing like you, in the way that he made too many mistakes and you chose happiness, but missing in a way that their lives hung in the balance.

He had to find them. He couldn’t let more people down.

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

When the case ends — with no more bodies, and Aaron can’t even recreate the sigh of relief he let out when they caught him and freed the hostages —, his home is too empty.

Silent.

There’s no chatter of the shows you like to watch, too quiet for him to make out words — you hated to disturb him, and would always have it so low you could barely hear it —, no smell of the dinner you’d cooked hours before, no you waiting on the couch to throw yourself into his arms with a grin.

‘Baby!’ Your voice is practically a squeal, excited and almost overly giddy. ‘You’re back,’

His arms catch and wrap around your waist before he can even consciously realize you’re against him. ‘Hi, gorgeous,’ he whispers, feathering a kiss to your hairline. ‘Wanna tell me what’s got you so excited?’

‘Well…’ you begin, pulling him to the couch with you.

He hangs onto every word, he knows he did, but his memory of this moment hones in on something else as your sweet voice washes over him in his waves.

Your clothing, the way it rests on your curves, the dottings of scars from where you struggled with acne as a teen — scars you’d hidden when you first started dating, ashamed to show him your face without makeup, scars he adored and kissed, markings he’d called angel kisses whenever they upset you —, the tired curve of your shoulders that he knows now is from more than just work.

It’s from him.

He exhausted you, tapped into your sunshine and joy so much you had none left for yourself. More than anything, he regrets not being able to make you happy. You’d given and given and given until you had nothing left for either of you, and all Aaron knew how to do was take.

There’s a tremble — a quiver, even — to his face muscles. He realizes, belatedly, he’s sobbing in his doorway, and he locks the door as he stumbles to his bedroom.

He closes his eyes, letting the tears roll down his face, warm, salty, awful.

He knows he should be over it.

But he’s not. He wishes he was, for both of your sakes, but he can’t stop crying. Missing you.

Everything aches.

“God, __, what did I do?”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

He wishes it were different. That he was.

Aaron makes it through two more cases before another breakdown.

The case was in Las Vegas, and everyone went out to drink or gamble (with the exception of Reid, who was banned from casinos and wanted to visit his mom, anyways). And Aaron was sitting alone in his hotel room, blanket wrapped around his body, knees drawn to his chest.

It hurts. To think of you. But he can’t stop.

Aaron thought he was going to marry you.

He had that thought often, whenever the fondness overtook him — his heart would swell with love, and he would look at you, practically with cartoon hearts in his eyes, certain he would have a forever with you.

Today was one of those days.

You’re dressed in his boxers and an old sweater of his, the definition of domestic beauty, hair a mess, eyes and face puffy from sleep, squinting at him over the edge of your coffee cup.

‘You look too pretty for seven a.m.,’

‘Morning to you too, my love,’ he whispers, pulling you into a kiss briefly. ‘Want breakfast?’

‘Are you cooking?’

‘As long as you supervise,’ it’s teasing, but there’s a hint of truth to it (you don’t trust him alone in the kitchen you made all nice and picked the appliances for, unless he’s using the microwave or getting a snack). ‘Sound good?’

‘Sounds perfect.’

He makes eggs and pancakes, and rolls his eyes as he fights down a smile when you wolf-whistle at him for rolling up his shirt sleeves to keep them out of the batter’s way.

When he serves it, he refills your coffee.

You kiss him as he places it down, and he’s glad his hand was already to the table because he would’ve dropped it in his urgency to cup your cheek.

His face is burning.

‘What was that for?’

‘I can’t kiss my husband?’

His face burns hotter. ‘Husband?’

‘Well, one day? Or no?’ You pout at that and he coughs, choking on air.

‘Yeah,’ his voice is a little strained, but he’s grinning. ‘That’s the plan.’

That plan never came around.

The ring still sits in his dresser drawer, beautiful, the velvet box collecting dust.

His call goes to voicemail — one he helped you come up with — “Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now! I’m too busy being in love with everyone and everything. Catch you when I can.”

It was always too whimsical for him, but it was you, and that made it right. You were full of whimsy before his work took its toll on you both.

You fell in love with everyone and everything.

But you fell out of it with him.

who cheered for my first full sad work ??? (she says when there is still sections of fluff. but they are intentional to make it hurt more. i hope) thoughts welcome <3

tagging: @hotchfiles @lover-of-books-and-tea

#my works #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #<- the fluff is only in memories aaron is miserable. fair warning

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jomeimei421 · 2 years

Text

📚🎭⚔️

[ There are three ways to survive in a ruined world ]

#orv #gang’s all here! gang’s all miserable!#omniscient reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #yoohankim #KDJ #yjh #hsy #my art orv

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ghxstmxchine · 2 months

Text

hobie would be so good with an autistic partner, especially one that gets overwhelmed in loud spaces :((

he's a musician after all, he probably has ear plugs tucked away somewhere in his pockets. but being around you has made it so that he makes sure he has them more often, especially at any of his shows if you come along

speaking of shows he's such a sweetie and def loves playing at places where there's spots he knows you can get some space in, making sure you won't get overwhelmed in the pit. and he's always glancing over at you, smiling a bit harder when he sees you actually enjoying yourself

this is kinda self indulgent (i get super touchy when overwhelmed to cope) but hobie is so unbothered when you play with his hands, toy with his spiked bracelets or even nervously run your hands over his vest. he doesn't care about having to stick his hand out while talking to someone just so you can hold it :( he understands and would never be bothered. it keeps him calm knowing your sticking close to him.

and there's something intimate about how he talks to you, voice low and soft as he leans in to ask if you're okay, playing it subtle so you don't feel embarrassed. his hand ghosts against your elbow, motioning you close as he lets you stick by his side all night.

he doesn't mind, not when it's for you

#half inspired by a miserable night at a party #other half inspired by my roommate calling hobie “neurodivergent friendly”#atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #gn reader #spiderpunk

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almond-gallery · 3 months

Text

happy valentine's w yhk <3

#omniscient reader #orv #yoohankim #yoo joonghyuk #han sooyoung #kim dokja #just finished my orv reread. miserable #but aside from that. yhk in love <3 #absolutely sickening that i must not only work but also take an exam on this valentine's day. and i'm sick #but it's ok. rotating them in my mind to make it through #edit: i'm really mad. i forgot hsy's beauty mark...

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shattersstar · 9 months

Note

absolutely NEED "hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them" with jason todd PLEASE (when you have the chance/motivation) <3

drawstring

pairing: college!au jason todd x reader

prompt: friends to lovers - hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them

word count: 5.5k

warnings: alcohol/smoking mention aka usual college shenanigans, slow burn(?), lil angsty, sports lmao

a/n: writing abt jason in college (here) has done smth to me bc this turned into quite the project (in a good way ofc) and i picked basketball bc it’s the only sport i know enough abt and jason’s tall so it makes sense shhh (also baby boys a centre <3) comments & feedback are always appreciated!

—

shot at the night series.

pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala

—

your name is a drawstring laced around my neck, tighter with every breath.

You had approached him first, after your prof caught you off guard with an outlandish take. You glanced over to Jason with your confused and slightly mortified eyes at the rather dated opinion, unable to stop the grin from spreading over your face as you both chuckled a little too loudly. A few people shot looks your way, and you mouthed an apology to him before you both turned back to your notes. Jason thought that had been it, sure you two always sat a chair away from each other and were in the same tutorial and you always smelled so good when he’d walk by, but you were a passing figure in Jason’s life.

Or you were supposed to be until you stopped him at the door, fingers darting out to brush his forearm before you dropped your hand to your side. You offered an apologetic smile while Jason stared at you a little wide eyed.

“Hey, sorry. I just, I dunno. Anyway we were in the same tutorial yeah? And I thought I’d introduce myself. In case we need notes or help or something.” You said, giving him your name while Jason nodded slowly.

A moment of silence passed, you blinked up at him and Jason laughed, “Oh, uh I’m Jason, and yeah sure.”

“Yeah sure? You don’t have to agree if—“

“No—I didn’t mean it like that,” He interrupted with wild urgency before composing himself, “It’s nice to meet you and yeah that’d be great. Thanks.” Jason offered you a grin and your furrowed brows settled.

“Okay, well here’s my number. See ya around Jason!” You beamed at him like you hadn’t been accusing him moments ago, slipping out the door and off the whatever class you had next. He glanced down at the ripped piece of paper with your number. Who gives out their number like this anymore? He thought to himself, shoving the piece of paper into his pocket and ignoring how much he liked the way you said his name.

It was a steady friendship after that, you liked having someone outside your usual circle, someone to help with class and Jason liked you. He knew after a few weeks of consistently hanging out, usually in the library or empty lecture halls, but sometimes in your dorms. Sitting side by side in your bed or sprawled out on the floor in Jason’s single room were moments seared into his brain. Private and quiet in those small spaces, especially in your shared bedroom, that demanded close proximity. Maybe he should have put the pieces together then, fully coming to terms with his onslaught of feelings for you, but it took a boring day in the library for Jason to fully clue in.

You were sharing a booth and Jason was letting you copy his notes from the lecture you missed last week. You were close, typing with silent intent while Jason took in your side profile. The soft curve of your cheek, your lashes sweeping each time you glanced between screens and lips plump and wet from your tongue running over them out of habit. Jason knew he was staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

When that crossed Jason’s mind, something tight bit into his chest as he realized no one admired their friends like that. He had always thought you were cute, and a nice presence to be around, but that warm feeling you fostered in his chest felt different—heavier when you looked up at him.

“Done!” You chimed, breaking Jason from his realization with your sweet voice. “Thanks again. I might need help studying this chapter when the final comes up but I should be good for now.” You closed your laptop, shuffling your books into your bag and letting Jason know your time together was coming to an end. He felt selfish for wanting more time with you, but you had already told him when you flopped down that you wouldn’t be able to stay long. Jason had tried not to appear annoyed then, but couldn’t care less now as he closed his laptop with a bit too much force. It garnered your attention as you glanced over at him with concern, “All good?”

Okay maybe he did care.

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” Jason nodded absentmindedly and hated how nervous you made him. How could he not see it before, the way words seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth and coherent thoughts flew out the window each time you two studied together. How it got worse when you were close, leaning into him or slapping his arm when he was criticizing one of your papers.

“Oookay,” You said it like you didn’t believe him before turning to face him fully, “One of my friend’s boyfriend or something works at a bar so my friends and I are going there tonight if you wanna join. I know its not really our thing, but we didn’t get to hang out today so.”

Our thing. Jason liked how that sounded, the implication of it. Like time spent together and even Jason himself was your own private little thing, it was special and not to be shared. It was a dangerous way to think of your friendship—of love—but Jason burned hotter at the thought regardless. And with you being scorned by your lack of time together as well, it all made something wicked pour into Jason’s chest as he a grin lit up his face. The guilt of having to cancel on Roy vanished immediately as he nodded.

“Yeah, just text me the details.”

You smiled wide, arms thrown around his shoulders as you hugged Jason for the first time before leaving him breathless amongst the shelves of books.

Jason almost pussied out, a block away from the bar and filled with dread. He questioned why he had agreed when this was the first time you two would be together outside the pretense of school work, on top of coming to terms with his feelings for you. And while studying together never meant solely talking about school, you two chatted about growing up in Gotham and dealing with being away from home. You both loved food and had a habit of showing each other what dishes you made the night before. You were also fond of baking when you visited friends' apartments, and would him banana bread or lemon squares on top of a coffee some days. You had asked his drink order the first time you two had hung out, and would always text him when you were running late if he wanted anything.

He would always say no and you would get him a drink anyways. “It’s my late tax.” You shrugged once, leaving him a bit speechless at how nonchalant your ability to care was.

Relishing in those moments made Jason breathe a bit easier, stuffing his hands into his leather jacket’s pockets and continuing down the street lamp lit road. He could hear muffled chatter and music playing as he neared, and despite wanting to sneak in without detection, you were outside sharing a cigarette with a friend and laughing amongst yourselves. You spotted Jason over your friend’s shoulder, immediately abandoning your conversation in favour of greeting him. Pride boasted in his chest, but it was quickly overcame by affection as you half ran, half drunk waddled over, arms wrapping around his waist before he could even breathe out a hello.

“I’m so happy you showed up.” You muttered into his jacket, pulling away just as Jason went to wrap his arms around you. You blinked up at him in the dopey sort of way, and it made him smile.

“You been here a while?” He asked, your brows pulling together.

“Are you saying I appear intoxicated Jason?” You teased, his name always sounding so right when you said it, especially now. Low and teasing, heavy with whatever you had drank.

“Depends, you always use big words when you’re drunk?” He jutted his chin at you, calmness flowing into his chest. Jason felt stupid for being worried, when he wasn’t so caught up in how you made him feel, you brought an ease out of him. A playfulness that sometimes left him tripped up and face hot, but you never seemed to notice.

“Pfft, you haven’t even heard the big words I know Mr. Literature Major.” He rolled his eyes, as you poked his chest. Your name was called before he could think of a response, both of you turning your attention towards the bar.

“Oh you can finish it, it's fine.” You waved your hand at your friend holding your smoke, more focused on Jason as you slipped beside him. You linked arms, leaning your weight into him as you headed towards the entrance. “Everyone’s inside, sorry if I reek of smoke.”

“I don’t mind.” He murmured, looking down at you and wondering how easy it would be to press a kiss to the top of your head. To lean over and—

“Oh by the way—“ Your voice pulled Jason from his thoughts, and he realized he was being introduced to the friend you were smoking with. He’d be hard pressed to remember her name, but she seemed nice enough. Jason had to force himself to be present as your arm slipped from his, and a chorus of voices greeted the two of you. You introduced everyone first, he was normally good with names and faces, in seas of people or gatherings like this, but Jason felt otherworldly. The only presence he felt grounded to was you, sitting next to him with one of your legs crossed over the other, calf brushing his shin as you told everyone how you two met.

“Wait—don’t you play for the basketball team?” One of your guy friends suddenly asked, and for some reason Jason immediately looked to you, to find you staring right back at him with a confused expression.

“Oh yeah, I’m starting this season—“

You slapped his arm with a shocked chuckled, “You have never told me that! What the hell!” You yelled, not louder than the chatter filling the bar as no one even looked your way. Everyone laughed as he shrugged, running his fingers through his wavy locks while you eyed him.

“Yeah I remember seeing a post with you, I think I remembered your hair.” Your friend continued, making you laugh softly. The stark white strands at the front that fell into his eyes sat against the raven black of the rest of Jason’s hair. You had asked him once if he dyed it like that, and Jason only shook his head no, continuing with the chapter like no follow up would be needed. It was perhaps why your hand found his, the one resting on his thigh underneath the table.

Your fingers curled around his hand and you let the conversation drift onto Jason’s basketball career. You listened intently, your chair right next to his as he talked about playing in the public courts as a kid, and was on a real team for the first time in highschool. He didn’t think he’d go to school for a basketball scholarship, but it seemed like the right time when he was offered. And while it was mostly true, Jason skipped over some of the more gruesome details of his life you had gotten pieces of, you knew he lived on the streets before he was adopted, but Jason never spoke of his adoptive father. You didn’t even have a name for the man who had given him a chance at life, but you were never one to push. You knew when to ask and when not too, you seemed to understand that Jason’s temperament existed on a razor sharp line, and walked it effortlessly.

“I feel kinda dumb because who is friends with someone this goddamn tall and doesn’t ask if they play basketball or volleyball even.” You snorted at one point, making Jason laugh. You let your hand fall from his then, pushing yourself up to get another drink. A few friends requested shots and you asked Jason if he wanted anything, but he shook his head no. He almost offered to go with you, but you were gone before he had the chance. He was left alone to be interrogated more about his life, which he didn’t mind, he was used to it.

It came with being a collegiate level athlete and one of the sons of Gotham’s favourite billionaire, even if most people his age didn’t know that. But it was always the same shit, especially college guys who loved to live some NBA fantasy through Jason though that wasn’t what he was striving for. Jason wanted his degree and if playing basketball helped him focus and work out everything he kept inside, then so be it. Jason never mentioned it to you because he had never seen himself as an athlete who has to go to school, but instead as a student with the perk of playing a sport he enjoyed. He felt a bit wrong for not sharing that side of his life with you, for wanting you to know him and what he loved as much as he wanted to know that about you.

It would be something to dwell on later as you returned with your friends' drinks, and on your second trip you brought a drink for yourself and another beer for Jason. You only sent him a smile as you set it down, falling back into the conversation as the night rolled on. Jason did his best to stay attentive, but you all were a little drunk and tripping over words by a certain point. Jason felt warm and content next to you, unsure how many drinks you two had ended up getting for another, but appreciating how you felt beside him regardless.

“I’m gonna go smoke and then wander my ass home.” You declared, leaving a few bills on the table which Jason immediately scooped back up.

“I got ours.” He said, pushing himself up a little too fast that his chair tipped backwards. You giggled a little unceremoniously at the sight before his words hit your ears. You began to object, but Jason had already slunk to the bar while your friends picked his chair, and closed out whatever tab you had. He was sure he ended up paying for a few of your friends' drinks too, but didn’t have the capacity to care. You were outside by the time he was back, bidding goodbye to your friends before joining you in the chilly air. “Are you actually walking home?” Jason asked, stealing your cigarette from between your fingers while you pouted.

“No, I ordered an uber. It's not coming for like ten minutes but I wanted air.” You said, voice sleepy with words falling into another.

“I’ll wait with you.”

“You can uber with me, if you want.” You offered and Jason considered it. It would mean more time alone with you, but he wasn’t sure he could keep it up anymore. With alcohol heavy in his bones and nicotine burning his throat, Jason didn’t know if he could keep it hidden anymore. Keep his feelings at bay when all his inhibitions were down and telling him not to. It was too dangerous, too risky so he shook his head no reluctantly.

“I could use the air too.” You nodded as he passed back your smoke, the hum from the bar and citylife filled the air before you looked down at your phone.

You stared unmoved for a moment, then your eyes met Jason’s. Green and heavy with want, he knew it was obvious. And either you were oblivious or didn’t care as you looked at him unfazed. Drunk and tired, but nothing heavy lurked in your gaze. It made his mouth go sour, but your voice broke any annoyance from flowering.

“Hey, when’s your next game?” You asked, swaying on your feet every so faintly.

“Uh, next Friday I think. Why?” Jason sounded a bit harsher than he meant, but you only laughed.

“Is it cool if I come watch?”

“Yeah it’s not like I can’t stop you,” You frowned at that and Jason was ready to blame the alcohol, “Sorry, I meant I'd like it if you came. My friend Roy, you met him last time he was visiting, is here again and gonna go on Friday if you wanna go with him.”

“Yeah! That’d be great!” You closed the space between you two and pulled Jason into a hug. Your arms wound around his shoulders this time, pulling him down to your level as you stood on your tippy toes. He wasted no time wrapping his strong arms around you, hands splayed on your back as his nose brushed the juncture where your shoulder and neck met. You smelled as good as you always did, a bit like liquor and sweat too, but still that summery scented warmth. It was oceanic and sweet, like that earthy natural sweetness. The kind from berries and sap, that stick to your tongue and remind you of hot endless days.

And maybe Jason was drunk and reading too much romantic poetry recently for one of his courses, or maybe he just wanted to let himself go, to feel whatever you made him feel tenfold with no hesitation. Jason let his head tilt forward, lips brushing the side of your neck before he placed a soft, open mouth kiss next to where your perfume was the strongest. Where it enveloped his senses and made him forget the reality of his life and your friendship. His tongue darted out to brush where his lips had met your skin when your fingers clutched his shoulders and pushed your bodies apart.

You stared at him a little wide eyed, his long arms still able to breach the distance and distantly holding onto your waist before the car pulling up next to you snapped Jason to reality as his grasp fell from you. Regret filled Jason instantly, words unable to form as his tongue ran across his bottom lip. You followed the action with your eyes, arms hugged around your chest as you took another step back.

“I’ll see you in class next week okay?” You said, expression softening as Jason forced a smile and nod like he hadn’t just ruined everything you two had built. You waved before ducking into the car, and vanishing into the night. Jason started walking home immediately, eyes focused on the pavement and how his steps fell on after another until he was home. He didn’t even change before rolling into bed, tossing off his hoodie and kicking off his boots before letting the promise of sleep and forgetting overtake him.

Jason thought he would wake up in a better mood, a less angry one.

He was wrong.

though I probably deserve this noose, there's one thing I'd like to adduce…just know I never resented you.

Jason knew he was being childish, probably handling it in the worst way, but he decided to take a cue from your reaction to his kiss, and was avoiding you. The few times you crossed paths on campus, he would send you a quick wave or fake smile before veering off in whatever direction was furthest from you. You managed to trap him in one conversation, asking if you still were on to study after class. “Uh sure, works for me.” Jason fidgeted with his zipper before bidding you goodbye and spinning out of the building he needed to be in.

He was also texting you less, keeping his phone in his bag most of the day and replying half heartedly. He was sure you knew something was up—how could you not expect Jason to be awkward all things considered?

And if you were still clueless to his avoidance, Jason made it clear when he walked past the desk you two normally shared during lecture. You had looked up as he headed down the stairs dividing the lecture hall into three. Yet Jason kept his head forward, opting to sit on the left side of the theater and closer to the front. He could feel your gaze following him, and Jason only worked up the courage once to steal a glance in your direction to see you typing furiously.

His head snapped back to the front as he pretended to listen. Jason did try to pay attention, but guilt was slowly eating him whole. He was so grateful when the lecture finally ended, taking his time to pack up and relieved to see you had already left by the time Jason started heading to the exit. Or so he thought until you stood across from the doors, arms crossed over your chest, clearly unimpressed.

“We still on to study?” You asked, clipped. Jason was sure this was the first time he had actually seen you mad, and hated he was the cause of it.

“I have a last minute practice tonight.” He said and you scoffed. Basketball had never once gotten in the way of your friendship to the point you didn’t even know he was on the team.

“Sure, okay. Well have fun and see ya around Jason.” You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you brushed past him. His eyes fell closed, head tipping forward as he let out a hefty sigh. Broad chest expanding and falling as he blew out hot air.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running a hand over his face and heading to the gym until night had rolled in. He would’ve stayed longer, doing a few laps in the pool perhaps, until Jason remembered Roy was still in his dorm.

Jason knew he wasn’t only being a shitty friend to you, but he had abandoned Roy twice now during his visit. It was too much guilt for Jason to hold and he didn’t have the space for it as he headed back to his friend, praying Roy wasn’t too mad. And he wasn’t, instead sleeping with his head by the foot of Jason’s bed and limbs hanging off all sides.

It made Jason laugh, a lightness filling him for the first time today. His game was tomorrow and Roy would be there and maybe it would be enough.

You weren’t going to show, Jason was sure of it. Well, there was the outlier possibility you might, but no, logically you were pissed and not going to show up. Unless maybe to boo him. That made Jason chuckle, pulling off his headphones as he half listened to his coach and captains’ last minute pep talk. It wasn’t the most important game, losing wouldn’t drop the teams standing much, but winning would look good as hell.

That appealed enough to Jason who was rolling out his ankles before pushing to his feet, the black of his jersey contrasted the white long sleeve he had underneath. His hair had gotten long enough to sweep back into a small ponytail, the short strands falling forward and framing his face. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors as everyone headed out of the lockeroom. Jason looked happy, it seemed like a foreign expression on his face, especially as of late. But the prospect of losing himself in a game always appealed to Jason and would soon became reality.

It was his needed escape, from all the chaos he had caused, but his peace came to halt when Jason searched for Roy in the sea of people and found you next to him. Roy had a conniving grin, so maybe he was a little mad at being abandoned and hearing Jason mope about you for the last few days.

One of Jason’s teammates slammed into his back as his sneakers squeaked to a stop.

“You good man?” He asked, placing a hand on Jason’s arm as he jogged past him. Jason nodded, following behind him and trying to focus on anything, but you. Of course you showed up, and didn’t even look mad, but excited.

Jason stared at the lines painted onto the ground, trying to push away the sudden anxiety looming in his stomach. He wanted to play well for you, he knew that much, but it was hard to think about anything else. Process the flow of the game while he knew you were watching. It wasn’t your fault, but Jason just couldn’t engage with you, not right now. He ignored both you and Roy the entire first half, not once sparing a glance in your direction, and opting to duck into the locker room when half time rolled through.

He normally would come chat, he knew Roy expected that much, but Jason just needed to play. To focus on rebounds and blocking and winning. It was simple, and with each second played he felt a bit easier. Like braving you once the break ended would be more bearable. But as Jason headed back onto the court, he was met with an empty seat. Roy was still there, looking rather unamused, but trying to push it down for Jason’s sake, while Jason stared helplessly.

You left, and he should have saw it coming, but it still hurt like hell. Jason played the second half well, mostly angry at himself for being an ass, and doing nothing to stop himself. Watching repeatedly from the outside as he fumbled every meaningful relationship if given the time. It made Jason sick, angry enough to be fouled out during the last few minutes, but his team won nonetheless.

The initial celebration seemed to pass in a haze, his teammates' voices flying over Jason’s head as he pushed his way through the crowd, wandering to where Roy sat with his arms crossed over his chest. “You played like a jackass near the end.” The redhead stated when Jason was in earshot.

“Playing how I feel I guess.” Jason shrugged, gaze flickering to the empty seat near to him.

Roy sighed, pushing himself up and slapping a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “At least you can admit. Now go be nice and shake hands and I’ll meet you at the afters, see if I can get your little crush to show up too.” Roy stated, making Jason chuckle as he nodded.

“Alright, and thanks man.”

“Anytime,” Roy grinned, letting Jason go before shouting, “Oh hey!”

He turned around as Roy held up his phone, “They asked for a play by play when they left, just so you know.” He said, a wide smile cracking over Jason’s face. You still cared, at least somewhat how he did, and maybe would show up (again) after all.

just know I never resented you, and I understand if you can't stand the sound or sight of my name.

Jason was in a sea of people, the usual spot for post game drinks overflowed, everyone in the celebrating mood it seemed. Jason tried to play along, and get lost in the fun, but was anxiously waiting for you and Roy. His gaze kept flitting to the door, half listening to conversations and participating even less. Jason ignored comments about how he played the last few minutes, sending tight smiles to the people who thought they had the right to joke about that stuff with him. They usually got the message after that, leaving him be until someone else decided to pull him into a conversation. The cycle was starting again as one of Jason’s captains called his name, but Roy’s hat flashed in Jason’s periphery and he didn’t even acknowledge the senior before turning towards the door.

“Outside.” Was all Roy said with a wink, patting Jason on the shoulder and slipping past him into the celebrations.

Jason wormed his way through the crowd, yanking open the front door and nearly colliding with you. You stepped back as Jason froze in the doorway.

“Uh Jay, I think people are tryna get by.” You said, nodding behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at the couple, and moved out of the way wordlessly as they dipped into the night. You slouched against the brick wall of the bar, and Jason headed towards you like a man compelled. He leaned into the wall, looking down at you as you sent him a smile. You were close, carrying the scent of smoke and that fucking perfume.

“Heard you fouled out.” You commented, making Jason chuckle.

“Yeah, a little too pissed to play nice.” He shrugged, toying with a string on his belt and pushing further into the wall, hoping the bricks would devour him.

“Is that how you normally play?”

“No, not unless I’m in my head.” You tensed at his reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Y’know we don’t have to talk about anything tonight, you should be celebrating anyway. We can play nice? For tonight?” You said after a moment, looking away from him while Jason continued to stare down at you.

“What?” He breathed.

“I just don’t think we need to focus on like, a drunk mistake right now. You guys won, let's just focus on that.” You shrugged, still looking towards the pavement while Jason’s jaw clenched.

Drunk mistake? Sure that was a way to describe it, but it was more than that. It was a revelation to the feelings Jason had been harboring, those same feelings he handled so poorly this last week and you wanted to forget it? Put it aside like you didn’t set Jason on fire from the inside out and were the one standing there with a fire extinguisher all at once. It wasn’t something he could just ignore anymore, not even for a few hours. It was why he had all, but abandoned you this week, more so than the embarrassment. And you chalked it up to a drunk mistake?

No.

He was silent for a while, long enough to beckon your gaze back to his as you turned to face him slightly. It appeared you weren’t getting out of this conversation tonight and neither was Jason.

Jason huffed, palms digging into his eyes before he said, “It wasn’t—that wasn’t me being drunk, okay—yeah I was, but it wasn’t a mistake in the way you’re thinking. I-I did that because I…like you. A lot, and have for a while.”

This silence seemed to stretch on longer than the one before—

“Oh.”

Jason laughed, he couldn’t help it, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he barked, “Well that’s always a great response.”

The coldness of his response snapped you out of whatever shock his confession put you in, “No, no I'm just surprised, sorry. And it’s not like I don’t like you too, but—“

“Oh that’s an even better one.” Jason muttered, and went to head back inside until your fingers shot out and grabbed his wrist. He stayed in place, but couldn’t turn to face you.

“Hey, stop being an ass, I asked you to play nice so listen. Jason, I do like you, I think you’re great actually, but this is a bit of a shock to me, and we still need to talk about how you treated me this last week. I need time to process all of this because I don’t wanna damage our relationship even more right now. But I still care about you a lot so just. Bear with me?” You said, breathless afterwards and thumb stroking against his wrist as Jason finally turned to face you.

“I can…work with that.” He said softly.

“Well I’m glad,” You shifted closer, squeezing his wrist before adding, “And hey maybe if you get a little too drunk tonight and make another mistake…it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Jason immediately tipped himself into you, making you scream out a laugh while trying to push him off.

“Y’know now that you mention it, I'm feeling pretty drunk now.” He pretended to trip over his feet while your palms pressed into his chest.

“God you’re so annoying.” You grinned when Jason stopped, holding up his own weight while you slapped the back of your hand into his stomach. “Now let’s go get messed up, Roy’s driving so!”

“Oh say no more.” You slipped your hand into his, fingers interlocking as you led Jason back into the bar. You glanced back when his fingers tightened around yours. grinning brightly at him in the hazy lighting, a beacon of good and calmness Jason longed for. And while there was still uncertainty and time before Jason could truly relish in you, he would bear with you as you asked.

—

title/lyrics comes from drawstring by pity sex.

pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala

#jason pining and doing it miserably is my fave genre #shot at the night #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc imagine #dc x reader #writing

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