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#she doesn't try to seek out some comfort for herself
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AITA for asking my mother not to do certain things?
Let me start off by saying i'm homeschooled. I've been homeschooled my entire life. I don't have any friends offline, so I've pretty much come here to ask for outside opinions from my friend groups (online).
Prefer not to state ages, if that's okay. It makes me uncomfortable.
I have ocd, suspected autism, and either auditory processing disorder or misophonia (we're not sure which.) as well as a plethora of other issues. my mother is very aware that i have ocd (she has it herself) and i've mentioned misophonia to her several times. she doesn't know about my other mental issues, as for reasons you're probably going to see here, as i don't feel comfortable or safe telling her. (or, i've tried, and she doesn't listen, or tells me i'm "being dramatic.")
my ocd is quite crippling, to the point i've tried medication, herbal tea (chamomile seems to work a bit!), asking friends for advice, and even asking her for advice. as of the last year, it's had a grip on my life and has been quite a problem for me. i'm unable to do things i want or need to a lot, and especially struggle doing most things, even basic tasks. i'm unable to see a therapist/counsellor or psychologist/psychiatrist for personal/financial reasons.
a lot of my triggers (well, not exactly triggers for the ocd, but they stop me from doing things.) revolve around sound, especially people talking. whistling is a major trigger for my misophonia/apd, as are other high pitched noises.
my mother has a tendency to watch tv a lot, and i often ask her to not do this when i'm trying to do certain things, as it makes my ocd a bit worse, and it's often rather loud. (please note i wear headphones a lot of the time for sensory issues.)
however, when i ask her either to turn it down, pause it temporarily, or ask her to turn it off for a bit, she has a tendency to get mad/upset. to the point of throwing a bit of a fit over it, in a way that to me seems a bit attention seeking (in the bad way). she says things like "fine, whatever." and flaps her arms about dramatically or slaps her legs, or she says "i don't even wanna watch it now, it's ruined."
i'll go ahead and say she's a bit self-centered in a lot of ways. for years she has said i've "targeted" her and "treated her terribly" even though any time i was (to her) doing these things, i was usually defending myself or telling her to do something that she needed to do that had been requested for days/weeks/months/sometimes years. i also have a tendency to ask her what she's doing, either out of genuine curiosity, or because she has done something strange to me that i didn't understand. which she gets mad over.
she also gets mad if i ask if she's coming over here (i have a tendency to walk/pace in certain areas to music, it helps with stress/adhd/also helps me write/act things out. she is very aware of this and this isn't really a problem.) or ask how long she will be over here. she seems to think me asking this is telling her she can't come over, or desperately trying to get her to move. admittedly sometimes i DO want her to move, but 90% of the time i am just asking so i know if i need to move to a different area to walk or just stop temporarily.
sometimes when i am having a particular peak in my ocd/anxiety/whatever else, i ask her not to talk for a moment/few minutes, either so i can do something i need to, or because i'm afraid it will make it worse. she'll either get mad about this, or go on a tangent about "not catering to me" and saying things "the real world doesn't work like this, and nobody cares that you have ocd/issues." she has a tendency to take my issues as a personal attack on her, when in reality i would ask anyone to stop for a moment.
she has a tendency to belittle me in a sense for it. i've tried to explain some of it to her (without revealing details of my trauma she doesn't know about, as most of my ocd is linked to severe ptsd.) and she says it "doesn't make any sense" and i "need to stop" and i "need to just make myself stop." she has ocd, and knows compulsions are not always rational, and yet still says these things.
part of my desire not to go to a therapist is because of her. she claims they will either try to put me away take me to another home/put me in foster care, or drug me up on medication that will make me dull. (the other part is more personal, and unrelated to her, but to my aforementioned trauma.)
one of the things i especially ask her not to do is whistle, or make a few other certain noises (eating loud, using nail files around me, etc) because they are especially triggering to me. she'll either blatantly refuse and say i "don't get to tell her what to do" or i don't "control her" (please note i am just asking, but when i DO specifically tell her to stop, it is because she either already knows this sound is triggering to me, or i've already asked, and i'm losing my patience.) or she'll do it louder/more just to trigger me further (my father also does this. sometimes as a joke which in some ways is worse.) or she'll go on the "not catering + nobody cares" tangent again.
i know my ocd and other issues can be a bit interrupting, but i don't ask huge things of her or anyone else. all i ask is for them to not make certain sounds around me, temporarily ask them to not do something/stop doing something, or ask them to do it a bit quieter for me. please note she has the ability to watch tv/videos on other devices with headphones easily, she just chooses not to. and worse of all, they treat it like it's not interrupting to me, when it affects my everyday life in ways far worse than asking/telling them not to do something.
it makes me feel unwanted and unappreciated, and i'll admit, i've contemplated....not existing, if you will, many times over this issue and others.
i just don't really know if i'm asking too much, or if they're just being shitty. i want outside opinions on this.
so, AITA?
(id put a tl;dr in here, but i don't really know what to put. feel free to do it for me. also, i know this was kinda long, but i needed to put some extra things in, sorry if thats like an inconvenience or anything!)
(adding my sideblog here so i can get notifs, @ocdaitathrowaway)
What are these acronyms?
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You know what, fuck it: Baldur's Gate 3 Thoughts.
(The world is so so bad right now, can't even name all the bad things, so fuck it, no more bad feels, just some nice garbage right now)
I really love that the big 3 pairings all kinda arrive together:
Lae'zel and Shadowheart are already trapped on the ship together, like they are both trapped by their beliefs. They both know more about what's happening than anyone else and are also perhaps the most frightened.
Astarion and Gale show up stuck and as potential bait. They're both concealing some pretty big problems. The only way to succeed with them is to trust them despite this. And they both badly need to bond with others so they can survive their ordeals.
Karlach and Wyll actually already have a relationship, just one founded on misunderstanding. They can each empathize with each other in ways the others can't and adjust quickly to thinking of a previous adversary as a friend. They both have so much going on that when they arrive on the Sword Coast, they just resettle into business as usual. They've both been misused by those with control over them and seek to break that control, even if that doesn't fix everything, even if it means more loss.
They're all good ships, I love them. And all the other combos are good too, there are no bad options here, but I'm a bit of a sucker for these. Honestly, really appreciate having an entire party of bisexuals. I love that so much <3
Gale and I are the same person ha ha ha FUCK
I do have fic ideas, potentially for Gale & Astarion and Lae'zel & Shadowheart (spoilers below)
Like, I actually have a lot of feelings about Shadowheart being a complete dick to Lae'zel while she goes through a crisis of faith, only to eat pigeon pie later when she gets a crisis of her own.
And I'm obsessed with the idea of Lae'zel learning how to be comforting as she watches Shadowheart crumble apart, as she loses all sense of identity. Because at least Lae'zel has that. Lae'zel lost a lot in parting from Vlaakith, but she didn't lose who she was. Indeed, she left in defense of who she was, in defense of what she knew to be right. Shadowheart doesn't even have that. And it's a wild thing that comes over you, to feel like you've fucked up and lost and to find someone you can actually help. I think it would be a really cool and beautiful thing to see, Lae'zel helping Shadowheart find the pieces of herself. That would just be really, really good.
And then there's Problematic Old Man Yaoi over here
Maybe what I love best about Gale and Astarion is how much fucking WOULD NOT solve it
Like, some people just need to fuck it out and then it's all good, you fixed the issue
And 100% fucking would not solve their shit. Like, it would help, or it certainly wouldn't not help. But it'd only help like... max 20% The rest has to be solved by Talking, Using Your Words, Talking To Other People No Not The Imaginary Conversations, and Admitting When You're Wrong.
I also love that this is true no matter where you think they get together.
Like, let's take Act I: I cannot IMAGINE how Astarion could talk Gale into bed that early. Gale "Never Nude" Dekarios who's never had a crush on anyone who wasn't Mystra. He'd be shaking and fumbling just trying to ask Astarion on a date. And Mr. Emotionally Available over here, who is not ready to be vulnerable in any sense, who uses sex as a crutch because it's so familiar and so easy to dissociate from... yikes, what a combo. Poor Gale would be sent reeling by the hot-cold of it, he'd act insane those first few days after sex as he tries to make sense of how Astarion said yes to everything, but didn't mean it, but also he did? So should he pursue that or leave it be? Is the best choice to let Astarion thaw in his own good time or obsessively work on cracking this because Astarion clearly needs help and just doesn't want to ask for it? Stupid question, OBVIOUSLY the second! I... instant explosion. God, it would go so bad. Honestly, the good version is Gale resists the invitations and instead Astarion sulks for a few days over his blue balls or just fucks someone else, thus giving Gale a new case of mixed signals to obsess over. Jesus, we're just never going to escape that are we? Wizards gotta fixate.
Act II: In which Astarion chooses to ignore his own problems by instead arguing with Gale about his. Not because he's invested, merely because Gale is clearly being an idiot. Gale at first demurs, refusing to be argued out of his guilt, but then when Astarion becomes more insistent, counters with why Astarion cares so much? This would inevitably erupt in some kind of sexual encounter, but the fighting wouldn't stop because despite getting laid, Gale is still sure he's right and Astarion is still sure he's right. Dick actually can't solve this today. The camp mournful of ever finding a solution, they would like to sleep peacefully again someday.
Act III: Make or break time. Both Gale and Astarion escalate as the threat of death or destruction looms ever nearer. Gale now just as dead set on stopping Astarion from destroying himself as Astarion is on stopping Gale from destroying himself. Same threat, very different outcomes. Gale keeps looking at him with those damn puppy eyes and whining about "he'll regret it instantly" and "hate who he becomes" and "I can't stand to see that happen to you" or whatever. Obnoxious. And Astarion keeps trying to convince him that Mystra was wrong, that she "manipulated and groomed" him and "didn't even give an explanation" which he's owed, or some such nonsense. As if an inhuman, all-powerful goddess was out of line for being afraid of mortal actions... wait, was that a logical inconsistency? Damn. I think Gale would convince Astarion first. I think deep down Astarion would hate to be a full vampire too much, I think they both know it, and when Gale promises to stand by him, to take care of him, to always protect him... As much as Astarion doesn't want to trust, knows he's a fool for trusting, he agrees. He won't do it. He won't take the power. Because, damn him, he believes Gale. And what would suck is Gale would go "Cool! I'mma become a god, I can protect you way better then!" like entirely missing the point. And Astarion would be galled, deservedly so, by the hypocrisy. But Gale's so caught up in how sure he's right and how sure he's wrong, he's not even listening. I think it'd piss Astarion off so much, he'd convince the whole camp to kidnap Gale so he can't go sacrifice himself, full "He won't get the chance to kill himself because I'll do it first!" Until we finally get to the Nether Brain and... Astarion lets him go. Because that's the point. Trust isn't real if there isn't a choice. And as much as he hates the fact that Gale might choose what he doesn't want, he has to let him do it on his own. And I think that'd finally break through. That simple act of trust and sacrifice and playing willing to lose would finally make Gale go "Oh... oh god, what was I thinking? This isn't right." The fact that Astarion loves him more for the flawed and fallible person he is than for the heartless god he could become... That would finally make Gale see, Mystra was wrong all along and she never loved you because she can't really love. Not like that. Yeah. That's a personal favorite of mine.
But there's also a lot to be said for post-end, Astarion with nowhere to go and Gale going "You know... I've heard of spells that allow creatures form the Underdark to safely experience sunlight. We could try some of those, I don't see why they shouldn't work on you." and Astarion being floored and not even having the words for everything he feels at that offer. And then the raw sexual tension of living in his tower together as "friends" as Astarion mercilessly pines and Gale blissfully carries on, unaware until Tara finally goes "That's it! I can't take it any more! I'm going to live with your mother until you two sort this out!" and flies off. Leaving Gale to go "Huh... wonder what she meant by that?" Meanwhile, Astarion can hardly stand to be in the same room with Gale because he ends up basically drooling and yet, he can hardly stay away, staring obsessively from the shadows, creeping around wherever he is, looking exactly like the jealous lover he longs to be. Also, Astarion and Gale's mother! Oh, I can't wait! Too funny!
Oh, tower days with Astarion would be so good as he tries to adjust to having a life again. A slow, painful process, but very deserved. He'd need an occupation, he can't have nothing to do. Maybe he can look into magistrating again?
Anyway, there's some thoughts. I haven't finished Act III yet, but I'm close so I guess careful with those Act III spoilers.
Also, for anyone still reading, if you want to do me a solid: There exists somewhere a Bloodweave fic where Astarion walks in on Gale with a construct of himself only there's a twist... and the author is Very Correct about this twist. if you know, you know. But I can't find this fic anywhere! Please help a girl out if you've read the one I'm thinking of.
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cyphyree · 11 months
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Revolutionary Girl Utena spoilers.
I think what guts me the most is how Utena tries to rise above the mistakes of others, tries to do good, tries to be kind in the name of becoming like the prince she was inspired by...... only to fall short just like everyone else.
She's hypocritical, willfully ignorant, insufferable, malicious even.
When confronted by others who reflect her worst qualities, she tries to defeat them, tries to tell herself that she's not like them at all, when in fact she is all of them to some degree.
The fact that she's "trying to do good" doesn't even make her special or morally better. Lots of well-intentioned characters try to do good in the show, and try to break the rose-tinted windows of their cages. They still end up hurting others, willfully or not. So does Utena.
Utena also tries to drive change, but so does everyone else. All everyone manages to do is reinforce the status quo.
Is Utena a bad person? No.
Is Utena a good person? She's trying, but again that doesn't make her any less malicious than anyone else.
I think what ultimately sets Utena apart is her pursuit for honesty.
Honesty isn't something that's talked about in the show in the most explicit way, and why would anyone talk about it? To be honest is to make yourself vulnerable and open to abuse. To seek honesty is to shatter the lies that offer comfort and confidence, and expose the ugly, dirty little truths underneath. It's to break the rose-tinted windows of their cage: it's painful and sharp and cold and the cuts will be deep and will they even heal?
Utena is honest to a fault, making her susceptible to manipulation and mind games. She's also DIShonest to a fault, therefore perpetuating the illusion that continues to harm Anthy (but it's hard, isn't it, when that illusion is the reason you're still alive?). Utena being naive also has trouble perceiving truths that others more experienced can see.
However--while everyone else resorts to deflecting blame, mind games, or neglecting the inconvenient truth--in the end, Utena continues to pursue truth and be truthful. Not out of naivety like in the beginning, but knowing full well that it's a hell-ridden road worth walking.
She doesn't want illusions and deceit to lull her into false grandeur anymore. She doesn't want to see herself or anyone else through rose-tinted lenses, because to live a pretty lie is to die without being born. She eventually becomes honest with herself, sees the ugly truth of her flaws, and confronts them. She refuses the final illusion Akio offers her because it's dishonest to who she is and what's really important to her. She becomes honest with Anthy, and when Anthy is finally honest with her, Utena receives it in full however much it hurt.
In the end, she didn't save Anthy, because the truth is that Anthy was never hers to save. But by shattering the lies between them, and baring her truth, Utena became the vehicle for Anthy to save herself.
And that is revolutionary.
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ginnsbaker · 8 months
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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (17 - I/22)
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Chapter summary: Natasha visits Wanda; You reach your breaking point at the end of a night after trying to understand why Wanda ever betrayed you
Chapter A word count: 6.1k | Warnings: Heavy angst, heavy drinking, toxic relationships, profound sadness | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader
Author's note: Decided to split Chapter 17 into two parts because it got too long in the end. Enjoy!
AO3 | Masterlist 
Next Part: Seventeen - Part Two
--
Seventeen - Part One
For the third consecutive time, Wanda skips her therapy session.
She leaves Calliope's calls unanswered, letting them go straight to voicemail (and cowardly deleting the messages without listening to them), and as a result, her therapist stops trying to contact her by the end of the week. 
Facing Calliope or putting up with her sensible talks is too much for Wanda right now. She doesn’t want other voices in her head right now. She wants to listen to her heart this time. And it’s saying that you need her right now despite how it might affect her progress.
Wanda hadn't intended to stop going to her sessions altogether. She had, in fact, confirmed for Tuesday, but you showed up at her apartment once again the night before, and, well, one thing led to another. You both ended up so wiped out that she didn't stir until nearly noon. By that time, two hours have slipped by, and her session with Calliope might as well be considered canceled.
Since she's handed over the weekday cafe opening duties to Peter, Wanda doesn't need to be there at the break of dawn anymore. But this also has its downside; there isn't enough inventory prepped for the full day's rush. This leaves her drowning in work from midday right up until closing time.
The way this arrangement saps her energy and leaves her feeling more fatigued than usual is hardly beneficial, yet—
Yet, it's hard for her to harbor any regrets when she feels your comforting warmth cocooned against her back, your body spooning hers, your gentle snores vibrating softly against her skin. In these snatched moments, she can delude herself into believing that the ring she now wears around her neck should rightfully still be on her finger. 
She can pretend that you're still unequivocally hers, and all the traumatic events of the past year are merely fragments of an extended, horrendous nightmare.
It's turning into a routine. You'd show up unannounced, stay until dawn. Once the post-coital haze clears, Wanda tries to nudge you both into discussing what all this means. But as soon as she utters the words, "can", "we", and "talk"—in that exact order—you're heading for the door with a speed that's hard to believe.
But after enduring another week of this unsettling routine, Wanda finally convinces herself that today, she's going to get some answers.
And with that plan in place, she repositions herself on the bed, turning to face you. Looking at your innocent sleeping face, she second-guesses her resolve, opting to postpone the looming confrontation just a bit longer.
Gently, almost reverently, she lets her finger trace the contours of your face. She starts at the bridge of your nose, moves down to your slightly parted lips, then to your neck, and finally your collarbone. It seems to protrude more than she remembers, hinting that you've lost weight. This realization stirs guilt in her, as she acknowledges she's partly to blame.
Her cautious touch eventually rouses you, and she observes as your eyelashes flutter before your eyes slowly open. For a moment, you look disoriented even as your eyes meet her clear green ones. You blink up at her as if you don’t recognize the woman you’re in bed with, but then, as recognition sets in, you nestle closer to her and tuck your head beneath her chin, seeking shelter from the daylight filtering through the slatted blinds.
“I can hear you thinking,” you murmur, your breath whispering across her neck, a spot particularly ticklish for Wanda.
She stifles her giggles, and the resulting tremors resonate against your forehead. The sound is sweet, familiar, and it conjures up memories of moments you've longed for. But it also accentuates the odd situation you're in right now, sharing a bed with your ex-wife, skirting around the glaring issue between you.
“Can you?” Wanda retorts with a teasing tone in her voice, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm. “I think we–”
“Need to talk?” you finish her sentence offhandedly.
A nervous laugh slips from Wanda. “So you can read my thoughts. Can you guess what I want to talk about?”
You grow quiet, giving the impression that you're attempting to actually read her mind. But then you pull away from Wanda's warmth and she immediately senses the shift in the air. Instinctively, she yanks the sheets up to cover her bare chest, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
“I have an idea,” you finally say, your humorless smile straining at the corners. The amusement in your eyes has disappeared, replaced by a heavy, unreadable look. Wanda waits for you to go on, but it becomes increasingly clear that coaxing your thoughts into words will require a lot more effort.
Wanda hesitates, her words sticking in her throat like stubborn boulders. She swallows hard, mustering her courage. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. We can't keep... This can't go on like this.”
“Like what, Wanda?” you ask, your tone edging towards sarcasm. “Like how we've started sleeping together again? Or about how we've conveniently skipped over the reason we divorced? Or the fact that you cheated on me–with a fucking video to prove it?” Your words hang heavy in the air, the accusation clear in your voice. “Or maybe how I cheated on Yelena with you?”
Wanda recoils. This confrontation is as painful as she'd imagined, but she knows it's necessary.
“If we need to tackle all that, then sure. I’m ready to talk through them with you.” Wanda says.
“You always make things sound so easy, Wanda,” you say, sitting up on the bed, the sheets pooling at your waist as you turn to face her. “'Let's just talk,' you say, as if talking can magically make everything better.”
Wanda winces at your words, the hurt visible in her eyes. “I'm not saying that talking will solve everything, but it's a start.”
“A start? We're way past the start, Wanda," you snap, your voice rising with your growing frustration. “We're neck-deep in this mess and I… I don't even know how we ended up here,” you trail off, talking more to yourself than to her by the end.
Wanda absorbs your frustration, taking a deep breath before she responds. “You're right,” she admits, her voice a soft plea against the harsh edges of your argument. “We're deep into this mess, and we both contributed to it.”
The admission hangs in the air between you, a bitter truth acknowledged. But she doesn’t let it linger for too long. Instead, she pushes forward, trying to bridge the widening chasm between you.
“But we don't have to stay stuck here,” she insists, her gaze holding yours. “We can work on it–together. Regaining trust isn't going to be a walk in the park. I know it's hard, it's... it's daunting. But it's not impossible.”
You're silent, the word ‘trust’ bearing down on you. Wanda’s gaze feels heavy, too full of hope. But you don't respond, your features etched in stubborn resolve. She’s trying to make you see something that maybe you no longer have faith in. You can’t give her what she’s asking.
Her expression falls, as she reads your lack of response correctly. There's a small, choked noise from her throat before she manages to whisper, “Is it because you think you'll never be able to trust me anymore?” 
There's a beat of silence as you process her question, the pain of her words seeping deep into your bones, but you can't bring yourself to deny it. “I don't know, Wanda,” you admit quietly, honesty lacing every word. “I don't know if I can.”
The words hit harder than Wanda was expecting, and she flinches as if struck. She knew it was the truth, but hearing it from your mouth was another thing altogether.
“I’m just gonna go.” you say after some time.
“Sure,” she says tightly, her eyes becoming stony. Wet. “That's the only thing you're good at, isn't it?” 
You say nothing as you retrieve your clothes from the floor. 
Wanda’s hand hovers mid-air, aching to reach out to you, to hold you back. But she refrains, lets it fall to her side. “If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back unless you're ready to work through this,” she declares firmly .
You pause at her words, your back still turned to her. The silence that follows is heavy, pregnant with tension that seems to seep into the walls, the furniture, the very air around you. Then, a bitter laugh escapes you.
“You enjoy this, don't you?” you ask, finally turning to face her. Your expression is ruthless, your eyes devoid of any warmth that used to be there when you looked at her. “You like that I keep coming back to you, don't you?”
Wanda's jaw tightens at your accusation. It strings, but she doesn't say anything else that she might regret later. She merely meets your gaze, her green eyes resolute and unyielding. It's her silent acceptance of your statement, her silent promise that she won't back down this time.
Without another word, you turn and walk out, the door closing behind you with a soft click. 
The conversation is done, at least for now.
***
The journey back to your apartment is a blur, consumed by a hollow emptiness that echoes the space once filled by Wanda. 
As soon as you push through the door, you make a beeline for the bottle of bourbon left opened in the kitchen from the night before. You're running purely on anger and adrenaline, the aftermath of your argument with Wanda coursing through your veins.
Why couldn't she just leave things as they were? Why did she have to spoil the one thing that was bringing you a modicum of happiness from your suffocating reality? Why did she have to care about you when you’re giving her what she wants? 
You take a hefty gulp from the bottle before frantically grabbing your phone. You scroll through your contacts and hit call when you reach Yelena’s name. The call doesn't even go through, instead, a busy signal immediately begins, an all-too-familiar sound. Next, you try Natasha, and while the call connects, it only results in endless ringing, until finally, her automated voicemail message starts.
In a fit of rage, you scream expletives at the top of your lungs. Your anger peaks and in a reckless moment, you hurl your phone against the wall. It shatters with a loud crunch, breaking into countless small parts, clearly beyond repair.
The kiss was a lapse in judgment during a weak moment. 
You never slept with Wanda while you were still with Yelena. 
Why does it feel like you're being unfairly penalized? Did they never love you like you thought they did? Do you really disgust them so much that they’ll just forget that you exist altogether? 
These thoughts gnaw at you, stoking the flames of abandonment, leaving you with a haunting feeling of being easily discarded.
Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you look at the wreckage of your phone. It's a fitting metaphor for your life at this moment—shattered, fragmented, irreparable. You slump down onto the kitchen floor, the chill of the tiles seeping through your pants' fabric, but you barely notice.
This time, drinking remains a problem but caution has been thrown out the window. With the bottle in your hand, you take one long swig after another. The room starts to spin, your vision blurs, and you don't fight it. Instead, you let the waves of oblivion wash over you, your grip on the bottle slackening as you slump against the kitchen cabinets. 
Just as you drift into unconsciousness, a beep from your laptop fills the quiet room. It's a new email from your company's HR, asking about your unexpected absences. But with you passed out on the kitchen floor, the urgent email goes unnoticed. 
***
The moment Natasha strides into Wanda's café, the world seems to freeze on its axis. Agatha, having heard about your best friend through Wanda, knows this can’t be good for your ex-wife. 
Her aura is menacing, enhanced by her leather jacket, and her stern gaze holds a lethal quality that could vaporize everyone in the room if it were possible.
(It’s also incredibly hot, but Agatha has no room to explore that thought when she immediately fetches Wanda, who's been buried in the backroom task of refilling the condiment bottles for each table.)
“Got a visitor out front,” Agatha blurts out, slightly breathless. “I'm pretty sure it's Natasha.”
Startled, Wanda looks up from her crouched position on the floor, a fine dusting of cinnamon, sugar, and other seasonings speckling her figure. “Are you sure?”
“Fiery red hair, a bit intimidating, and strangely attractive,” Agatha elaborates. “I'm absolutely sure it's her.”
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Wanda gradually pushes up from the floor. “Okay, um…” She pauses, gathering her scattered thoughts. “Alright.”
Agatha practically pushes her forward, making her stumble into the bustling open kitchen where Natasha is nonchalantly leaning against the counter.
With a soft clearing of her throat, Wanda tries to shake off the sudden onslaught of nerves. She pulls herself upright, trying to project a calm she's far from feeling. “Natasha,” she begins, “What can I do for you?”
Natasha fixes her with a piercing gaze. “We need to talk,” she states, her tone leaving no room for argument. 
Wanda nods. “Sure, if you could just–”
The words are barely out of her mouth when Natasha spins around, heading for the cafe's exit. Wanda, utterly perplexed, follows her, casting a backward glance at Agatha who responds with an encouraging nod.
As soon as they step onto the sidewalk, Natasha progresses wordlessly, Wanda falling in step behind her. The silent walk stretches for a few minutes until, abruptly, Natasha halts. Wanda finds herself in front of a different coffee shop, one noticeably larger than her own. Without a moment's pause, Natasha steps inside. 
Wanda suspects this might be a passive-aggressive move on Natasha's part, choosing to hold their discussion in a competitor's establishment of all places. They navigate to a table tucked away in the corner, and Wanda takes the seat opposite Natasha. Without skipping a beat, Natasha flags down a waiter and places her order, all without so much as a glance in Wanda's direction. 
“I hope you don't mind, but their coffee is something of a guilty pleasure,” Natasha remarks, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes.
“No, not at all,” Wanda replies, forcing a polite smile onto her face. “It's always nice to see what the competition is up to.”
A heavy pause falls between them, and Natasha's gaze sharpens with seriousness. “I didn't invite you here to talk about coffee, Wanda,” she begins, her tone eerily neutral and hard to read. “I'm here to understand why you couldn't let Y/N go.”
Wanda casually picks up the menu on the table. Her eyes scan the menu with small interest, avoiding Natasha’s pointed stare.
“I'm not sure what you're asking, Natasha.”
“I want to know why you couldn't move on from Y/N. Why you have to cling onto her, even after everything that happened. I'm not saying it's entirely your fault that Y/N cheated on Yelena... But why couldn't you just leave them alone?” Natasha's tone is more accusatory now, and her eyes are steely, demanding answers.
The full brunt of Natasha's presence sinks in only now for Wanda, hitting her hard. If Natasha is seeking her out, it suggests she has severed ties with you. A pang of guilt ricochets through her, understanding all too well how much you depended on that friendship, and how deeply it mattered to you.
The far-reaching consequences of one kiss–a kiss that had made Wanda feel incredibly alive–are glaringly clear now. It initiated a domino effect that razed not just your relationship with Yelena, but countless other connections in its path.
“It's... complicated,” Wanda finally confesses, her eyes dropping to the table.
“Is it really that complicated, Wanda?” Natasha counters, her tone harder than she'd meant for it to be. “You and Y/N were married. You messed up, you cheated, and it ended. Why couldn't you just let it be?”
Wanda draws a shaky breath, the bitter truth spoken out loud wounds more than any physical blow.
“I never stopped loving her,” she concedes despite knowing it will fall on deaf ears. As if on cue, the waiter reappears with Natasha's coffee order. Wanda uses the momentary distraction to request a glass of water.
The skepticism in Natasha's eyes intensifies as she leans forward, her arms resting on the table between them. “So you never stopped loving her,” she repeats Wanda's admission with evident disbelief. “Yet, you cheated on her. You agreed to sign the divorce papers. Can you explain how that works?”
Wanda’s green eyes dart away nervously. Until now, she doesn’t have satisfying answers for those questions. And Wanda doesn’t expect anyone to understand when she doesn’t understand them herself–most of all, Natasha. 
She and Natasha were never close. But Wanda loved her just the same, knowing how she took care of you and acted like a sister when you have no siblings of your own. Wanda cherished her for that, even though Natasha never quite reciprocated the affection. Their relationship had always been cordial but it had never ventured into the realm of true friendship.
“Look, I didn't understand what was happening to me,” Wanda murmurs softly, her nail absently scratching the table's surface as she tries to explain herself to someone who never genuinely bothered to care about her. “Something was… missing. A void that I couldn't understand or explain. And it kept growing, despite Y/N’s consistent efforts to keep me happy.”
Natasha’s face remains stoic. “So you thought cheating would fill this void?” Her words sound more like a statement than a question.
Wanda winces, but she doesn't deny it. “I thought, maybe, if I could feel something... anything else, it might help. By the time I realized what I had done, what I had thrown away, it was too late.”
Upon hearing this, Natasha shakes her head and lets out a cynical laugh. She folds her arms across her chest in an undeniably condescending manner.
“Do you know why I hate you, Wanda? It’s not just because I’m concerned for Y/N or you ruined, yet again, another relationship. You took away the Y/N I knew. She’s not the same person I grew up with.”
“Don’t you think I don’t know that? She’s been coming to me. She’s a wreck, Natasha. I know how empty she feels if she’s turning to me for reprieve.”
“Why then?” Natasha asks.
“What do you mean by ‘why’?”
“Why do you still want her? You couldn't love her the right way when she was easy to love. What's changed that makes you believe you can now, when she’s just a shell of who she used to be?”
Wanda grits her teeth, her hands balling into fists on her lap, out of Natasha's sight. 
“Don’t you think it’s rather hypocritical of you to ask me this? Y-You’ve abandoned Y/N… haven’t you? It’s why you came to me right? Because you left her!” Wanda counters, her voice rising enough to catch the attention of a few customers nearby. 
Unfazed by Wanda's impassioned outburst, Natasha simply sits still, her expression remaining unchanged. “You don't know what you're talking about, Wanda,” she says, her tone icier than ever.
“Well, it appears I've hit a nerve,” Wanda retorts, the edges of her lips twitching into a bitter smirk. “Let me make this clear, Natasha. I may have made mistakes in the past, I may have hurt Y/N, but I'm not the one who walked away when she needed someone the most.”
“You think you're what's best for her now?” Natasha shoots back, her eyes flashing with anger. “After all the pain you've caused?”
Seeing Natasha rise from the table, Wanda braces herself for what's coming next. “I need you to understand, Wanda,” Natasha says, her tone laced with a quiet intensity. “I can't pretend that what happened didn't affect me. Y/N lied to me, hurt my sister. And while I want to be there for her, it's difficult–”
“You mean you won't be there for her,” Wanda cuts her off, her voice edged with resentment.
“No,” Natasha implores, her voice shaky around the edges. “I mean it's hard. It's hard to watch someone you care about suffer and know that they played a role in their own pain. And at the same time, of course I'm angry at Y/N for how she treated Yelena and disrespected our friendship as a result. But that doesn't mean I've abandoned her, Wanda. Why the fuck would I see you if I have?”
Wanda flinches at her crudeness. She never intended to question Natasha's care for you or cast judgment on it.
She’s just tired. Tired from the constant need to justify her love for you to those who question it. Tired of having to constantly prove herself. If people choose not to believe her, even as she recognizes and admits to her past errors and shortcomings, then she has to come to terms with the fact that not everyone will forgive her.
But she is determined to earn your forgiveness. 
She wants to show you, more than anyone else, that she's changed. That she's learned from her mistakes and that she's capable of loving you the right way this time. You matter to her more than anyone's opinion. Your forgiveness, your acceptance, your love–these are the things she yearns for the most.
“I was wrong,” Wanda admits. “I messed up. I hurt Y/N, and I have to live with that guilt every day. But just because I messed up once doesn't mean I can't try to make things right now. You can be angry all you want about what I did wrong in the past, but at least I’m here for he–”
“And what if you're just making things worse, Wanda? What if you being around is just causing her more pain?” Natasha questions, her hard gaze unwavering.
“I... I don't know,” Wanda admits, looking lost and vulnerable. “But I can't just walk away from her, Natasha. If it turns out that I'm doing more harm than good, I promise I'll step back.”
Natasha's silence stretches on for a moment longer, her cold gaze fixed on Wanda. And then, unexpectedly, a smirk twists her lips. It's not a happy expression, far from it.
“Maybe…” Natasha says, drawing out the word, her tone derisive. “Maybe you two do deserve each other. You with your guilt and her with her... self-destruction.”
Her words linger, a harsh condemnation that has Wanda recoiling. Natasha stands then, leaving her untouched coffee on the table. She throws a handful of bills down, enough to cover the drink and then some.
“As much as I hate to admit it,” Natasha adds, shrugging on her leather jacket, her voice laced with a regret that Wanda can't quite put her finger on, “I hope you can help her. Because god knows, none of us have been able to.”
And with those parting words, Natasha turns, leaving Wanda alone to restructure what being with you truly means now.
***
You don’t come back like she asked you to, and somewhere deep down, Wanda is ashamed to admit she's disappointed.
You were right; she does want you coming back to her every time. But you’re wrong about one thing: she doesn’t enjoy it. She’s worried sick about you. You look like you need help the way she needed help when Pietro discovered her passed out next to an empty bottle of sleeping pills.
She fears that you’re going down the same path she did. And what's worse is that she doesn't know how to stop it. You clearly don't want her help, and she understands why. Trust isn't something one asks from a person they don't believe in. And you don't believe in her.
Wanda picks up her phone and dials Pietro's number, her fingers trembling slightly. They're due for their regular Skype session, but she doesn't feel up to showing her face today.
It only takes two rings before Pietro answers. “Why a call, Wands?” he asks immediately, concern clear in his voice.
“I...I'm not really up for a video call, Piet,” she responds, quickly coming up with a half-hearted excuse about her unstable internet connection. In truth, she knows he’ll be able to tell right away that something is off if she turns on the camera.
“Is that everything?”
“Yes,” Wanda insists.
“And your sessions with Dr. Williams?” Pietro's voice sharpens, clearly not buying her claim. “How are they going?”
Wanda hesitates for a moment before answering. “They're...going,” she admits, though she doesn't elaborate. She doesn't dare to tell Pietro that she's missed a couple of sessions. Her therapy is one of the few things that reassure him from thousands of miles away. He'd only worry more.
Pietro bites back the urge to tell Wanda that Calliope has already informed him of Wanda’s recent non-attendance.
She hears Pietro give a noncommittal hum over the line. It's a simple sound, but it tells her everything. He doesn't believe her. She takes a deep breath, gearing up for her next revelation.
“I...I've been seeing Y/N again,” she reveals, words rushing out in a hasty jumble. There's silence on the other end of the line, and she quickly fills it, not wanting to let Pietro's thoughts linger. 
“But it's...it's different this time. There's–there's something there, Pietro. I can feel it. I think we might have a...a breakthrough or something," she stammers, her words racing against one another in their urgency to be voiced.
“And–” she swallows dryly. “And I don't want to ruin my chances this time.”
“Wanda,” Pietro interjects gently, his voice suffused with the kind of worry only a brother could bear. “I think you need to step back and really look at the situation.”
“But I am, Piet,” Wanda retorts, the pitch of her voice wavering with each syllable. “I am looking at this, really looking. When I see Y/N... it's like... it's like…”
“Like you're being sucked back in?” Pietro finishes for her despondently. “Isn't that exactly what happened last time? She’s clouding your judgment–again. You're not seeing clearly. You're just...You're just getting lost in what you used to have.”
There's a pause, and Wanda can hear Pietro let out a deep sigh. “Wanda, you deserve better. You deserve to be with someone who won't tear you apart. I know you still care about Y/N, I get it. But you need to think about what's best for you.”
“Piet…” Wanda attempts, her heart a hefty load in her chest. “I–”
“I can't stand by and watch you do this to yourself again. Not after everything that happened. Not after seeing you... after seeing you in that hospital bed,” he articulates, his voice choked.
There's another pause, this one longer and more poignant. Wanda can hear Pietro struggling to hold back his emotions on the other side of the line. “I'm sorry, Wands,” he finally manages, and even though she can't see him, she knows he's barely keeping the tears at bay. “I just can't.” 
And then there's a soft click as Pietro disconnects the call and the line goes silent. 
Still reeling, Wanda is left reassuring herself that she can handle it this time. She’ll have to–for you.
As for Pietro, he’s prepared to do something that Wanda might hate him for in the future. 
If he can’t convince his sister, then he’ll have to convince you.
***
Wanda's last words to you have stuck in your mind, popping up more often than you'd like to admit. You haven't been back to see her since, knowing all too well she'd bring up that same topic again without beating around the bush.
You're worried about what you might say to her. You'd rather avoid her than hurt her like you have so many times since you two split.  You've been striking out at her, and you can't figure out why you keep doing it. You’ve been using sex as a means to be with Wanda without really being with her–at least not in every sense of the word. Not in the way you want to but can’t bring yourself to. Not in the way you’re capable of.
Without Wanda and your loved ones around, all you have is an empty apartment and a job that feels more like an obligation now. Joy seems elusive, life seems bland–eating just to fill your belly, working just to pass the day. 
You're starting to realize that the best parts of life come from sharing it with others; when you have a friend to call after a long day; when you retire into the arms of someone you love; when your demons aren’t as loud as they are now in your head.
To your astonishment, your Stark Industries badge still functions when you arrive at work the day after collapsing on your kitchen floor. However, it's not long before HR summons you to meet an in-house specialist. After a short evaluation, you're prescribed pills to be taken twice a day and given a mild warning.
Later, when some of your colleagues invite you out to unwind after work, you accept, much to their surprise because you never once went out drinking with them, always preferring to keep your professional and personal lives separate.
You all head to a local bar, a place humming with people seeking an escape from their hectic lives. But the background music, the low murmuring of conversations, and the occasional laughter are just noises to you. The muted light from the suspended bulbs adds to the promise of a good time, but it barely registers. 
You're not really there for the party vibe or the camaraderie with your colleagues; rather, it's the dulling effect of alcohol that you crave. You don’t even join their table, you prefer sitting by the bar where you can ask for a refill with just a snap of your fingers anytime.
A while later, one of your coworkers suddenly totters over to you with a loud, obnoxious laugh.
“Hey, how 'bout you stop moping over here and join us on the dance floor?” he slurs out suggestively, his eyes wandering all over your body.
You’ve heard the whispers around the office, the snide remarks about a woman leading their team. Their resentment rears its ugly head now, fueled by liquid courage.
“I'm good here, thanks,” you try to deflect, hiding your discomfort behind a casual sip of whisky.
But he isn't taking 'no' for an answer. He dismissively scoffs at your refusal and grabs your arm, attempting to pull you from your seat.
A surge of anger bubbles up within you.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” you shout, yanking your arm back. Your voice is swallowed by the pounding techno music echoing around the bar. It's so loud, you doubt anyone heard your outcry, until a figure materializes from the edge of your sight.
“The lady said no,” she intervenes briskly, positioning herself between you and your colleague.
Taken aback, he stutters, pointing at her in a feeble attempt to salvage his bruised ego. “How about you, babe? Care to dance with me?”
Her eyes narrow ever so slightly, and the corners of her mouth curve up into a sardonic smile. “I think I'll pass,” she replies. “You see, I have a strict policy against dancing with pathetic boys.”
A few eavesdroppers start clapping, appreciating her firm stand. You can't help but feel satisfied as his face turns a bright shade of red. Muttering under his breath, he staggers off, swallowed up by the crowd.
The woman turns her attention back to you, signaling the bartender to pour you another drink.
“Sorry about that,” she starts, her voice just loud enough to cut through the ambient noise. “Some men just can’t take no for an answer. It bruises their fragile ego.”
“Thanks,” you say. “You didn't have to step in, but I appreciate it.”
She shrugs, taking a sip of her own drink. “Sometimes, a little intervention goes a long way,” she says, her eyes meeting yours. “And from what I saw, you're not one to be pushed around. I respect that. Cheers to standing up for ourselves!”
You can't help but chuckle as you clink your glass with hers. Her spirit is infectious, and, for the first time that night, you find yourself genuinely smiling.
An hour later, you find yourself doing more than just smiling, in a position you couldn't have predicted at the start of the night. 
You're pinned against the wall of a college student's dorm, her eager mouth marking your neck in an almost painful way. You’re both drunk and you agreed for the woman from the bar to take you home because you wanted to find out something.
You wanted to understand why Wanda cheated on you. You wanted to be caught up in an attractive stranger. You want to know what it’s like to be wanted by someone young and alluring. This is not about revenge or trying to level the playing field; it's about grasping what led Wanda down that path. 
And in the warm, dimly lit room of a young college student, you are willing to go to great lengths for that understanding.
“You’re so hot,” she moans into your heaving chest when you slip your leg between her thighs and draw her closer, encouraging her to grind against it. But as her head lulls back, caught in the pleasure of your advances, Wanda's vivid green eyes hauntingly flash before yours.
The taste of cheap alcohol is still strong on your tongue and a stranger's hand persistently roams over your overheated skin when a jarring realization strikes you.
This isn't what you want. It never was.
You find yourself unable to follow through, to do to Wanda what she did to you. It's not a matter of a moral high ground, it's simply because you just can't.
Feeling the touch of someone else, when you were in Wanda's bed just last week makes your stomach churn. Technically, you’re not doing anything wrong; you and Wanda haven't committed to any kind of relationship. And yet–
And yet, it feels like the worst betrayal. Like you're tarnishing something far deeper than any label can define.
It feels as though you're cheating on Wanda–and it makes you want to throw up.
“Y/N?” 
An immediate, desperate need to flee consumes you. It's not something you can articulate, but something primal, a pressing demand from your body to get away. 
“I'm sorry, I can't do this,” you utter hastily, not giving her a chance to respond as you scramble to grab your coat. Panic claws at you, and in your haste to escape, you find yourself practically running out of her apartment, her protests echoing faintly behind you, growing softer as you sprint down the hallway and out into the cool night. 
It's a double-edged sword of hurt and confusion. On one side, your heart breaks at the very thought of being with someone else, of betraying Wanda, even when you have every reason to. On the other side, the very fact that Wanda managed to do it, to betray you so effortlessly, twists the knife even deeper into wounds that never quite healed properly.
Trying to understand why Wanda did what she did only makes her actions feel worse. It's as if you're learning about her deception all over again, like a new wound overlapping an old one.
Even as your eyes start to sting with unshed tears, the sudden blinking light from your pocket catches your attention. You instinctively reach down and pull out your phone, squinting against the bright screen, as an incoming anonymous message shows up on the notification bar.  With a trembling finger, you curiously tap on it.
Your phone screen displays a photo that instantly drains the color from your face. 
A sterile hospital room, bleak and unwelcoming. And on the bed is Wanda, looking pale, fragile, and disturbingly still, with tubes running from her mouth and nose. She seems lifeless in a way that makes your heart drop.
A surge of fear and concern washes over you, sobering you up instantly. Your stomach knots, your heart thunders in your chest. Your mind spins with unanswered questions, but one screams louder than all others: “What happened?”
Sensing there’s more to the message, you scroll down.
There’s a date attached showing when this picture was taken, along with five words that make your blood run cold: ‘What you've put her through’.
The message, even in its brevity, hits you like a punch to the gut. 
And then, like some dark cosmic joke, rain begins to fall, splattering against the pavement that threatens to crumble beneath your feet.
Taglist: @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby| @swiftie1-0-1
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kyokutsu-sama · 1 month
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I am sooo glad your requests are back open omg, i missed seeing content from you 🥰. May I pleeease request the Bleach men coming to terms that their girlfriend, even tho is really good in fights, the rest of the time is insanely clumsy (yk, burn/cuts herself when cooking, trips, slips, falls, all that)? I'm most interested in Byakuya, Toshiro, Hisagi and Shinji (if it's not too much😅). Sorry for the long ask 😅💗
A/n : Hii!! It's okay 😊 It was an interesting idea and I enjoyed writing it. I hope you like it ❤️
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Byakuya :
He initially admired you, all your strength during battle and all that self-confidence that inspired everyone around you. So far, everything was fine…but when he started noticing you do so much nonsense in a short space of time, he questioned several things. First it was when you fell in the hallway, then it was when you dropped the stack of papers on his desk and not to mention when you stuck your finger in the door when leaving his office. He closed his eyes and put his hand to his face, wondering what level of your clumsiness was. "How can she be two things at the same time?" He thought He doesn't directly confront you with that but will always keep an eye on you to see if you don't get hurt or ruin something doing a simple task. He is careful with you and even offers to help when he knows you can't do something or try to do it and it goes wrong.
Toshiro:
He is very perfectionist, whether fighting or signing a simple sheet of paper. He had a lot of expectations for you when you showed yourself serious on the battlefield, strong and with your head held high. The worst was when he met you on the other side… It was all downhill. There was a time when you went to get some papers from his office and before you even got close to the door you fell and dropped everything on the floor. He felt a wave of revolt inside him, because he had already put everything in order and now everything was a mess. It turns out that he started seeing you being clumsy a lot of times and this confused him because you initially used to be responsible and careful. He tries not to leave you aside in these tasks but he has no other alternative if you continue to be clumsy like this.
Hisagi :
Hisagi thinks highly of you, he admires you and sometimes seeks advice from you when something is not going well. However, like Byakuya, he never stops wondering how you manage to do so much nonsense in such a short time. First it was the fall on the stairs, then it was when you let the food burn or spilled the glass of water on the table. All sorts of things started to make him more attentive to you. He offered to help you so you wouldn't have to do everything alone and that way you would avoid being so clumsy, something you sometimes felt sorry for. He always comforted you and said everything was okay, accidents happen, don't they?
Shinji :
Although he always looks silly most of the time, he trusts in you and your strength. But he not only knows this strong side of you, but also your other clumsy and laughing side, which makes him admire you even more. I have the idea that if he had a really clumsy girlfriend it would be total chaos because I'm sure he could be worse than his partner. However, he doesn't stop laughing at your little accidents, especially if you fall in front of him, so get ready to hear his laughter. The kind of friend who laughs and only after stopping does he help lift you off the ground. He has a shred of mercy and kindness in his heart and that's why he will help you with things, even if he sometimes ends up doing worse. He will make fun of you a lot for this.
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hello! could i request for hcs where bakugo has a clingy babbly girl who always bugs him by following him around (bonus points: THEY'RE NEIGHBORS) and says she loves him all the time but he always just scoffs and ignores her then one time she ends up giving up or getting hurt and ends up distancing herself in the process and he starts to seek her out oMg you can take it from there IM JUST SO HAPPY YOUR ASK BOX IS OPEN YOURE MY FAVE BNHA IMAGINE BLOG AHH
I made this into a scenario instead of headcanons. Hope that's ok!
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From the moment you moved into the house across from his, you'd already decided that you would stick to Katsuki like glue.
You just couldn't help it. After all, he stood out from the rest (even if it was in a bad way at times), which made it almost impossible for you to keep your eyes off him. He was headstrong and brave, not to mention incredibly attractive. Before you'd realized it, you were crushing on him hard.
But being the kind of person that you were, it didn't occur to you to try and hide your feelings. Instead, you clung to his side and made sure to seek him out at every available opportunity. You were incredibly thankful to have made it into U.A, because it allowed you to see him during class as well.
At the beginning, Katsuki thought you would give up and get bored of pestering him after a while. He clearly didn't seem to realize just how strongly you felt about him.
No matter how often he scoffed at you or told you to get lost, you were still right there, grinning at him ear-to-ear.
"I love you, Katsuki!"
Words that the average person struggled to say fell from your lips without so much as a second thought. The first time Katsuki had heard you say you loved him, his eyes had gone wider than ever. He even wondered if you were just playing a prank on him or something.
She's such an idiot, he thought. She doesn't even mean that. It's so dumb.
He'd long since convinced himself that you were just some ditzy girl without a serious bone in your body. That was why, even when you kept on insisting that you loved him - more than anything, as you so often stressed - Katsuki didn't take it to heart. He never stopped to actually consider that you were telling him the honest and unfiltered truth.
Until the day you got upset with him.
"Quit it with that sappy shit," he snapped. "I'm tired of hearing you spew the same garbage all the time."
It was just like any another day. You were clinging onto his arm and gushing about how much you loved him. As much as Katsuki wanted to say that he'd gotten to used to this by now, the truth was that he hadn't. Every time you hugged him or got extra close and said those kinds of things, he could feel his chest getting tight and his cheeks burning. Even if you were just running your mouth without meaning what you said, it was still embarrassing as all hell. And despite what most people probably thought, he did get flustered.
That was why he lashed out at you. He was fed up with being the only one to get worked up while you said all that stuff without even batting an eye. It wasn't like he actually disliked you or anything. Far from it, in fact. Even if he wouldn't admit it, you were the person he considered closest to him.
Perhaps that's why he felt comfortable speaking brashly. He'd always done it until now; why should today be any different?
Needless to say, dejection was quick to sweep across your face. You looked weary all of a sudden. You weren't smiling the way you usually did.
"Okay," you said softly. "I'm sorry. I just thought... I don't know. But I'm sorry. I should've taken the hint by now."
From that day onward, you didn't say a single word to him. You breezed past him in the hallways without so much as glancing his way. You didn't bother asking to walk home with him the way you usually did. Even when your parents came over to hang out at Katsuki's place - since your families were on good terms - you didn't come along with them. You purposefully stayed home, as if you no longer wanted anything to do with him. You were avoiding him. Did you not like him all of a sudden, or what the fuck?
Katsuki had always been stubborn, even as a child, so it took him a while to come to terms with the fact that he missed having you around. He missed having you cling to him and smile like you didn't have a single worry in the world. He missed seeing your cute face and feeling your arms wrap him in a hug.
Katsuki had liked you back for a while, but he was just too hardheaded to see it.
After finally coming to the realization that having you around was something he wanted, Katsuki did what he'd never done before and sought you out himself.
He managed to corner you during lunch, in the cafeteria, so that you couldn't try and pull a fast one on him. As expected, you refused to so much as meet eyes with him, but when Katsuki put his mind to something, he couldn't be deterred.
"You're done ignoring me," he frowned, grabbing you by the hand. Even though you tried to protest, he held on tight. "I need to talk to you. Aren't you going to hear me out?"
Katsuki didn't even realize it, but his gaze was nowhere near as confident and assured as it usually was. In fact, it was almost as if his eyes were pleading for you to stay. He really, really wanted you to stay with him.
Luckily, you'd always been the better person. Certainly a better person he was.
You nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's talk."
Relief couldn't even begin to express what Katsuki felt. For a moment, he thought he might faint from the stress. He was worried that you were seriously done with him for good. But you were giving him another chance, and this time, he wasn't going to screw it up.
Katsuki gripped your hand as tightly as he could while the two of you walked out of the cafeteria together. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, searching for someplace quiet and secluded. Confessing his feelings was actually a much more frightening thought than he would've liked to admit, but you were special to him. For you, he could set aside his petty pride.
After all, you were worth it.
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ausylusy · 2 months
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Manjiro stealing izana's gf nsfw
hello, i know its been quite some months since you requested this anon but its finally here. I apologize for being so late lmao but its here and I hope you enjoy this!
There may be some grammar incorrections in the story but english isnt my first language so I apologize in advance!
~MR. STEAL YOUR GIRL~
Sano Manjiro/Mikey × reader!
Warnings: kitty eating
18+!!!
Despite being together for quite some time, Izana's abusive behavior would take a toll on the fragile relationship between him and you. Izana's lack of attention and affection could be seen as a form of abuse, harming you by leaving you constantly feeling ignored, neglected, and unworthy of being loved. This could have long lasting effects on your self-esteem, making you feel like nothing more than a mere object for his pleasure.
You feels alone, isolated, and ignored by Izana. You sit next to a lake and look out into the dark waters, contemplating your life and relationship. As you stare, you begins to doubt whether it is even worth trying to save the relationship. You think to yourself, maybe it would be better to just walk away, to seek a fresh start....
You decided to go to Manjiros house. You trusted Manjiro more than anyone. You feel comfortable opening up and venting to him about how you have been treated by Izana. After awhile you and Manjiro are now in his bedroom. Iz seems he just woke up from a nap. Manjiro looks at you and asks "What happend?". "I've been feeling really neglected and mistreated by Izana lately. He's constantly ignoring my texts and calls and doesn't seem to care about my feelings at all. It's been really hard and I'm not sure what to do." you say as you looked down in sadness. Manjiros eyes widen upon hearing that. He had a crush on you ever since he knew you. He couldnt belive that his brother would treat a beautiful girl like you like some piece of trash. Manjiro approaches you and says."You deserve better than how he has been treating you. He should never be making you feel like that....Besides can treat you better than Izana ever has. I'll pay attention to you, I'll listen to your concerns and actually care about your feelings. I promise I won't treat you the way Izana has." Manjiro said that with no hesitation. Did he just confess to you? You wondered and your eyes were wide open. "Let me prove it to you, yn..." Manjiro leans in and kisses your lips. Your and Manjiros  kisses become more passionate and intense as you two explored each other's mouths with your tongues. You feel your body respond to Manjiro's touch once again as he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue. You can't help but moan softly into the kiss as you feel yourself getting aroused.
As you twos passion continues to build, Manjiro begins to undress you slowly and sensually. He takes his time exploring every inch of your body as he removes each piece of clothing until you are standing before him completely naked. "So hot for me....fuck..."Manjiro mummers as he looks at your body in hunger. Your face was red as a tomato but you were excited at the same time. Without hesitation, Manjiro picks you up and carries you over to the bed.As they continue to explore each other's bodies, Manjiro begins to focus his attention on your most intimate area. He kisses and licks your inner thighs, making his way closer and closer to your wet pussy."already wet...."manjiro says and chuckles. You gasps as you feel Manjiro's hot breath against your sensitive skin. You can't help but moan loudly as he begins to eat you out, flicking his tongue over her clit with expert precision. You grab onto the sheets tightly as waves of pleasure washes over your body. Your back arches as she feels herself getting closer and closer to climaxing. Manjiro looks up at you with a devilish grin before plunging his tongue into your wetness, making you scream out in pleasure. Then you reached your peak and cummed all over his face. Manjiro looks up at you with a satisfied grin before licking his lips and tasting your sweet juices. "Delicious princess~" Manjiro says and gives you a quick kiss on the lips and whispers in your ear "I love you.....so much princess..."
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walpu · 26 days
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LET'S GOOOOOO I've lost 50/50 on her banner so it's my way to cope
this bitchass app tries to shadowban me so i'm reuploading this
nsfw headcanons w/Sparkle
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characters - Sparkle notes - gn!reader, nsfw, dom!Sparkle, no beta
Everything is insane when it comes to this girl.
First of all, I don't think she's a virgin.
She doesn't seek sex for the act itself, for her it's just another way to play a certain role she has in mind.
If you're her lover then be prepared to her shenanigans lmao.
Constant role-playing. Like I mean it. According to her stories and voice lines, she likes to make up origins and roles for herself just for the sake of it, so of course she won't miss a chance to put her imagination to a good use.
Calls herself a switch. Can be a dom or a sub depending on what role she wants to play. But I would say she's naturally more dom leaning, she can't help but notice that the roles where she gets to boss you around are more… fun to play.
Very kinky. I think she would be open to anything you may propose. And if eventually she dislikes the experience, she just dismisses it as boring.
Would probably have some issues with respecting boundaries. I mean in her voiceline about Sampo she literally complains that limitations are boring and "kill the vibe". Plus her disregarding other's comfort for the sake of elation is generally a big part of her character.
Butttt I do think that she'll try to respect your wishes more when she gets attached to you and develops some genuine feelings. Will she still complain that you're no fun tho? Sure.
Is heavily into marking. Loves biting you all over your body, especially your chest and neck.
Be prepared to be tied up regularly. For a girl who hates restrictions she surely loves restricting you a bit too much.
Loves watching your reactions and have a lot of kinks regarding that.
Would use ice cubes on you to see you squirm when she presses it to your most sensitive body parts. Would tickle you with feathers. A high chance she would suggest trying gun/knife play at least once.
Big on edging and orgasm denial. If she feels nice enough, she'll just edge you but eventually will let you cum. If she feels like being a meanie she is. Oh well.
Would constantly switch between praising and degrading you. One minute you're the only person who can truly satisfy her, a perfect dance partner, then boom you're her pathetic toy.
Has a surprisingly good stamina. If you're out of energy before she's satisfied, she'll complain and pester you. May use toys to distract herself while you're catching your breath but they're not enough, she needs your touch specifically. Won't hesitate to tell you this. And while she didn't try to flatter or compliment you with this comment, she's was just stating a fact, it's still nice to hear, is it not?
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onmyyan · 10 months
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Okay so there's this specific genre of fics about the Yandere batfamily x neglected!Reader that I'm obsessing over and basically, reader joins the family unexpectedly, usually a long lost kid from an old fling of Bruce's, and it's wonderfully angsty as the batfamily is so caught up in their own shit they inadvertently ignore/neglect the reader, the isolation is bad because they don't show her their vigilante life, so she's just sees it as some secret family club she isn't good enough to be in, they're always together and talking in hushed whispers about their patrol's, it's hard not to feel like an outsider, the tension is high throughout the years as she sees them act so lovingly towards each other but so indifferent towards her, and then something happens, (reader gets hurt, tries to run away, is kidnapped ECT) and then the batfam's yandere tendencies kick into high gear and they try to fix their severely damaged relationship, lawd I love this concept so much if I write it I'll be tagging the works that inspired me bec everyone should read them omg, anyway I love how jarring it must be once that switch happens, how all of a sudden reader is getting the attention and love she wanted for years, only now she doesn't need it, she's a grown independent woman who's only ever had herself to rely on, after all when you grow up in the shade of such a tight knit family, always on the outside looking in, it tends to make you self sufficient.
I have a few ideas for this concept, one where reader is incredibly smart and after years of fighting for an ounce of affection, gives up on the Batfamily, gets an internship at Lexcorp because Lex recognized her brilliance, he becomes a Yandere for her shortly after reading over her file, because the thought of Yandere!batfam begging for readers attention and affection after years of indifference towards her only to have her seek comfort in a villainous man like Lex Luthor is tew tasty.
My other idea for this concept is the same set up only Reader notices what the family is up to, quickly putting together that her father is Batman and that everyone in the house is a vigilante, she's 17/18 at this point and still desperate to belong to this family so she starts training, going to local gyms and picking fights so she can get used to getting the shit kicked out of her, no one notices her absences, no one but Alfred, he catches her limping in at some ungodly hour, blood seeping through her shirt, a needle and thread in one hand as she clumsily tries to stitch herself up, he asks her what happened, not expecting the most demure and quiet member of the family in this state, she tells him in an empty voice, "Doesn't matter." And Alfred is taken aback by the coldness in her eyes. He of course reports this to Bruce after patching her up, and he shrugs it off, "If she was in some kind of trouble she'd say something." Bruce is certain, sure he hadn't yet truly bonded with his daughter but he was sure he had time to, after all he was a man with the world on his shoulders and a plethora of other people who he felt needed his attention more, (y/n) never gave him problems, she kept to herself and was so self sufficient he felt comfortable putting her on the back burner, years go by and now 23, reader has shaped herself into a proper vigilante, her fighting style is raw, pure anger in her punches, she takes care of Gotham, sure she's not fighting world ending threats, but she's saving people, helping, it's helped to fill the void in her chest where her family's love was supposed to go, the batfamily knows about this new vigilante but know nothing about them, the suit reader wears is tactical that hides everything about her identity, not sure how but she gets unmasked/ hurt and unmasked and they find out, cue Yandere Batfamily.
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fwckriley · 8 months
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The Missing Wolf Tee
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Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader
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It was a calmly morning. She woke up feeling extremely unwell. Her night had been terrible. One way she coped on these bad days was to seek comfort in small things. So, she took out a large navy blue shirt with a wolf print from her wardrobe. She sniffed the shirt for a moment, still sensing his scent on the fabric.
Once she got all set, she thought about going out for a bit to get some fresh air, smoke a cigarette, and take a walk to sort out her thoughts. After the walk, she went back inside the lodge. The place was empty, most of the soldiers were out. Still wearing her coat, she collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep.
Nearly half an hour later, she woke up to the sound of the door slamming. She quickly composed herself when she caught a glimpse of Simon's figure from the corner of her eye, and then she relaxed. He sat down next to her on the couch, completely silent. Automatically, she decided to take off her coat. But as she did, she remembered she was wearing one of his shirts, his favorite shirt, that she had stolen during one of their hookups. She put the coat back on, but it was too late; Simon had already seen his shirt. She swallowed hard and stayed quiet.
Simon raises an eyebrow, his eyes observing her, checking her out before saying: "Is that one of my shirts?" He asks casually, his voice raspy and deep.
"Nope... It's mine. I guess it just looks kinda the same." She lied, trying to get out of that situation, but she knew him. She knew he was smart and wouldn't buy her lie.
"Are you sure it's not mine?" He asks again, his penetrating gaze still fixed on her. She can see his eyes squinting, a result of a smile, so subtle that only she can notice. He knows she's not being honest, but he's letting her get away with it for now.
"Why would I be wearing one of your clothes?" She tries to play dumb.
Normally, she wouldn't mind if it were one of her affairs, but Simon was more than just that, even though their situation was a bit odd. And the fact that she liked wearing his clothes, because the smell and the memory of him brought comfort, brought forth feelings that neither of them dared to discuss.
"You tell me," he calmly replies, his eyes fixed on her. He doesn't show any emotion. He watches her reaction closely for a moment before speaking again, "I don't mind that you borrowed it."
"I didn't borrow it," she says defensively.
"So, you stole it." Simon's voice is dry, seems emotionless, but she can feel a hint of mockery in his tone.
She let out an exasperated sigh. She seemed offended, even though she was guilty. "I didn't steal anything." Her voice comes out more shrill than she intended.
"So, how did you get your hands on it? 'Cause I don't remember giving you any of my shirts." Simon leans back on the couch, trying to hide the small smile growing on his face, which, despite wearing his balaclava, was visible in his eyes. "Did you simply find it lying around?" He continues, teasing her.
She rolls her eyes, grumbling. "It just showed up in my stuff, not my fault."
She had totally planned to swipe his shirt the moment she laid her eyes on it.
"You're not a great liar, you know." Simon's voice sounds amused, but there's a hint of affection in his tone. He watches her for a moment, and then he adds: "You know, you could've just asked me if you wanted it."
"Can I keep it?" She asks softly, like a kid begging for a toy she saw in the store.
Simon looks at her for a long moment, before letting out a sigh and nodding, turning his face to the side. "Yeah, sure." His tone is softer now. He is not used to sharing with others or giving anything away to anyone. But for her, he makes a small exception.
She smiles secretly, bumping her knees against his. Like a 'thanks.'
As usual, Simon remains stoic and doesn't react to her touch, even though the gesture makes him feel a little warmer inside. He doesn't say anything, but she can see the faint smile that reaches his eyes remains even after she pulls her knees back.
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blues824 · 9 months
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Heya bestie Can I please request the remarried empress with Sonia nevermind.
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👑Her being heinley his sister because she is the ultimate princess after all so it fits because heinley is the ultimate king.
👑Her getting invided and her being compared to navier to her beauty and how would they both take their roles so seriously.
👑But she is known for her cursing sometimes and it's out of nowhere and she has a stange obsessing with the acult and the macabere.
👑Imagen sovieshit asking for her be be his mistresses and heinley refusing and her curing goddammit all to hell out of nowhere in such a proper way .
https://youtu.be/MAQiGh5woag
👑Her usually hanging out with navier because who doesn't want to learn from her and her later becoming her sister in law.
👑Her listening to kosiar talking about how he defeated people or beat someone up and her just listing to him not carrying that it it's not very prinses like.
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It seems the random number generator chose you again, bestie 🫶
I decided that because Sonia is fluent in many languages, I should add the Grand Duke as well. Also, you are the princess of the Western Kingdom, but you are not set to marry anyone as you are not the heir. You also are not able to turn into a bird.
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Sovieshu Vict
You had been invited on his behalf, as he was aware that it would be in your best interest to get you outside of your palace and into another country. However, he was not expecting the absolute beautiful woman that stepped down from the ship that delivered both you and your older brother to the Eastern Empire.
Sovieshu heard the guards and the servants whisper about how your beauty was incomparable, not even to the mistress or the Empress herself. Well, he has to agree, because he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen before. Not only that, but you were intelligent and you knew about the Empire’s customs, and you were always willing to learn more.
However, you dropped the polite act once he asked you about two weeks later if you would consider becoming his second mistress. You quite literally said, “GODDAMN IT ALL TO HELL! DAMN YOU, EMPEROR SOVIESHU!” Your brother as well as the Empress and her brother heard the noise from outside and they rushed out to comfort you and dry your tears.
From that point on, you stayed away from the Emperor. He was kept busy during the entire time you were there, fortunately for you, as that meant he had no time to seek you out. However, upon escorting you to the ship that would take you back to the Western Kingdom when you found out your eldest brother was dying. He would have placed a kiss on your hand, had another man not done so already.
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Rashta
You were actually one of the first people to ever be kind to her, and so she thought she could trust you. However, she saw Sovieshu’s loving gaze towards you, and she quickly realized that you were a much better selection of a girl than her. The only thing that made her qualify was that she was carrying the Emperor’s child. You were knowledgeable on how to be a royal member, you knew the customs of nobles and locals better than she did, so it made sense.
So, she started avoiding you. She was absolutely convinced that your kindness was false and in reality you were trying to take away the life that was finally given to her. You were saddened by how she drew back, as you considered her a friend, so you mostly stuck with Navier instead. Plus, your brother said that it would be better for you anyway, because you were set to be a queen rather than a mistress.
Anyways, one day there was a sudden scream in the garden of, “GODDAMN IT ALL TO HELL, SOVIESHU!”, and Rashta quickly made her way over. You were crying and clearly in distress, and Heinrey was yelling at the Emperor while Navier and some other man were helping you wipe away your tears. The young mistress only heard from her servant later about what had taken place within the garden, and she was absolutely frustrated about it.
She went with the group to bid your goodbyes to each other, and you were still as kind as ever to her. You gave her a hug, and you wished her and the baby good health, and it almost brought her to tears. Sovieshu was sad at seeing you go, and Rashta knew it from the sad look on his face, but you seemed to already be taken, as the man who comforted you before placed a kiss upon your knuckle.
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Navier Trovi
She was aware that her husband had invited you along with your older brother as an enriching opportunity, and it was definitely wise. Upon meeting you, you seemed to be very impressionable since you were away from home. She took it upon herself to lead you about, teaching you what it meant to be in charge of a Kingdom (Empire, but the point still stands).
From the very beginning, she knew that you were beautiful. You were also kind and graceful, all traits befitting of a future queen… oh wait. Based on what she knew about your family (and how your older brother was promising her a future as the Queen of the Western Kingdom), you were not going to inherit the kingdom. However, she saw how much you cared about your people, and it didn’t seem fair.
That aside, you confided in her in everything, especially when two men specifically were quarreling over your hand. You didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and she was like a sister figure to you already. It was a bit childish, but you would ask her for advice over a few cups of tea, and she was willing to lend an ear. However, the amount of times you have cursed is very surprising to her.
When it was time for you to leave, she knew that you would have to choose between one or none of the two who pursued you. She was sad to see you leave, but you weren’t saying ‘goodbye’. You would return soon with your decision, so as she pressed a kiss to your cheek as a friendly farewell, she whispered to you that she would keep in touch with you through letters in your absence.
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Heinrey Lazlo
He was fairly excited to go to the Eastern Empire when you both got the invitation, as were you. However, you were the one who went to say farewell to your eldest brother and your sister-in-law before you met up with Heinrey at the docked ship. The entire journey was a very long one, but it was worth it once you got to your destination.
It was at the ball, specifically, where you saw your brother go all heart-eyes for the Empress. You pushed him in her direction, and you were very happy to see the two speaking to each other. However, not five minutes later, you were facing the Grand Duke Kaufman, who was asking you to dance. You were definitely not expecting this, but he spoke to you in Luiptian, and you responded with enthusiasm as you accepted it.
Heinrey watched you like a hawk. You were his younger sister, after all, and his brother had told him that he needed to look out for you. He asked the Empress who exactly was the man that asked you to dance with him. He had half a mind to go and stop this nonsense, but then he learned that the Grand Duke of Luipt was your dancing partner. If he stopped you two, it could mean that trading plans with Luipt would go awry with the Western Kingdom, so he stepped back.
After a few weeks of being within the Eastern Empire, Heinrey came to you with information about Wharton’s state. You were distressed already, due to the whole mistress thing that the Crowned Prince here had to bring you back out of by yelling and cursing out the Emperor. It was one of the moments where he fell deeply in love with Navier, as she along with another man comforted you.
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Kosair Trovi
He burst in on you and his sister having tea, and he forgot any word that was originally going to come out of his mouth. You were just so beautiful. However, he got his bearings and walked up to greet both you and Navier. The latter lady introduced the two of you formally, and Kosair bowed down and gently took your hand in his to place a kiss upon the back of it.
From that point on, every night, he would rant to Marquess Falhan about how kind you were during the whole interaction. Your eyes were absolutely majestic and had him in a lovesick trance. However, it seems he wasn’t the only one taken aback by you. You seemed to have other suitors, which made sense considering you were a princess, and the Lord of the Trovi Household was set on winning over your heart and your hand.
However, one day as he was preparing for his departure from the palace, he heard a lot of commotion coming from the garden. You were shouting, “GODDAMN IT ALL TO HELL! FUCK YOU, SOVIESHU!” He, Heinrey, and Navier were all rushing out to you, and you were crying as the Emperor was trying to comfort you. However, the Prince of the Western Kingdom pushed him off as the Empress and her brother were wiping your tears away.
Then came the day where you had to depart to settle things in your own kingdom. Kosair looked like a kicked puppy, and you promised him that you would be back after the coronation. It made his eyes light back up a little, and he promised, as he kissed the back of your hand once again, that he would propose to you when he saw you again.
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Grand Duke Kaufman
He met you at the New Year’s Ball, and you were what he thought a star would be as a person. Your ball gown brought out your eyes, and you were very kind. Each person that hailed from a different kingdom spoke to you in their native language because you were fluent in over thirty languages, so he decided to ask you to dance with him in Luiptian. It didn’t really surprise him that you responded by accepting his invitation in Luiptian, but it was rather the accepting part of the whole interaction.
As he waltzed with you on the dance floor, everything else seemed to go away. It was just you two, caught in the moment and not willing to let it go. You talked with each other as well, and he learned quite a bit about you. For example, you are loyal to your kingdom just as he was to his, and your brother was giving him a death stare. It caused you to giggle as you apologized for Heinrey’s behavior, and he had a bit of a smile as he assured you that it was alright.
That time when he tried out the love potion to test its potency, you were present briefly before you had to go with Sovieshu and chat with him. Kaufman was already jealous of the Emperor, but even more so when he drank the potion and looked at you right after. It was definitely quite the conundrum, and he had to force himself back into his room. That didn’t last long, as two hours later he heard you in the garden, shouting, “GODDAMN IT ALL TO HELL!” He was there within seconds to console you, and Heinrey was there to push Sovieshu back and away from you.
When you had to leave for your kingdom once again, he really did not want you to go. Unfortunately, he was still under the influence of the potion, so his heart was demanding him to not let you go. However, you promised that you would return once everything was settled, and that seemed to satisfy him. He watched as your ship left the dock, and he immediately started planning his proposal. He would, of course, have to return to Luipt and get everything ready for you before he asked for your hand, though.
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holylottie · 2 months
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Aching bones, aching teeth [02]
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masterlist [and warnings!]
PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x afab!reader
CHAPTER SINOPSIS — 1996, you pass your last moments on your hometown before heading to nationals.
NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)
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Chapter 02 — between letters and lies
1996
Charlotte Matthews was born on a cold morning, at exactly 9:46 a.m., and her cries were so loud that the patients six floors above knew that a new life had arrived.
And Charlotte's childhood continued in the same way as it began: with a lot of loud crying. She was always scolded a lot, which is why she hardly cried these days, but there were two people in the world she could rely on to dry her tears.
One of them was extremely close, her childhood best friend, while the other, her grandmother, was still enjoying her retirement: traveling all over the globe. Charlotte tried not to miss her so much (tried not to feel so angry) but it was almost impossible; her grandmother raised her, the only one who gave her affection - and the only one who accepted her after the anniversary tragedy.
Lottie's house was huge and freezing, extremely cold during the winters and with a relaxing breeze during the summers, as if several ghosts were blowing eternally through the walls. As a little girl, Charlotte swore she could hear them.
Today, the only sound in her house was of shells hitting each other, a wind chime that you and her made when the voices in Lottie's head were almost unbearable.
Charlotte went downstairs, looking for one of her parents, but all she saw was the piano in the living room, quiet as a child. 
Oh God, she's never seen a quiet child, she's never been one to begin with, maybe that's why she doesn't have any siblings —she sucked all the energy out of her parents before they could give her some company. 
The girl huffed, crossing her arms as she looked for Genevieve, the new housekeeper. She thought about what might happen if she found her, what she would really do if she saw her. Charlotte would like the presence of someone older and more affectionate, but that didn't mean that anyone older was going to be affectionate. 
She went upstairs again, back to her room and put on the first pair of boots she could find. 
Then she went out into the yard, picking up her old soccer ball and practicing shots with herself, trying to score goals between her mother's flower chairs.
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The Aetos family home was near a park with a beautiful garden with a statue in the center, and the bench facing this view was your favorite place. Far enough away from your parents, but close enough for them not to complain.
You held a book in your lap, but could only stare at the water moving up and down the white marble sculpted arms.
It was a perfect sight, a comforting silence and a calm that could only be replicated when you were in the presence of your best friend. 
Your fingers clenched together, nervous, not that it was apparent, anyone who saw you from the outside would find a person as calm as the statue.
Your large, sad eyes were uncomfortable for your mother, and between humility or luxury, she seemed to see only the latter in your irises. More annoying than the eyeballs was the time you spent in the bathroom. Your parents hated your vanity.
Your yellow tights covered your scraped knees, burning from the fervent prayer you had said last night. You felt lost, begged the heavens so much to be heard, to be changed, but to no avail: you still had the same feelings —and blamed yourself greatly for them. 
Was a confession still valid if you lied about the real reasons behind her actions? you confessed seeking forgiveness, not to find other people to blame. 
You confessed, and spent more time practicing your dance routine until your toes hurt, spent more time sewing clothes without taking care with the needle; You tried everything to feel less guilty about your lack of guilt. 
You did like your mother, like the time she caught you reading The Well of Loneliness, and made you clean the whole house on your knees, begging forgiveness for yours and the writer's soul. You wondered if your mother really knew about the story, but you didn't dare question anything, your mother had certainly chastised you because she had heard what the book was about. 
Of all the literature you had ever studied, Russian literature was the one that had taken up the most space in your heart. The melancholy in every word was something no one else could replicate. At least, no one else you could read, as your Arabic was weak and minuscule.
The teacher had split the class into three and given them each a different Russian work. The group was divided into two and each member had to present their own opinion on the theme of the book —as well as doing the technical analysis that you loved so much.
And you got even angrier, you had read the book and loved analyzing it, what was wrong with doing it?
The theme of the book and Dostoevsky's damning phrases about self-opinion... A little ironic that you had got that part of the debate right.
You opened the book again, flicking through the pages as if the answers were going to leap out of the paper and straight into your head.
You loved old literature, knowing that someone, years ago, decades ago, held the same book and read the same words, made you feel as if you weren't alone in her world of thoughts —you were connected to everything and everyone at the same time, all the time.
However, the beauty of the author's words did not take away the sadness of their truthfulness, what hurt hurt, and only became art once it stopped burning.
You opened to any page, your eyes skimming over the paragraph marked in neon colors.
"We always think of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why should it be? What if, instead of all that, you suddenly find just a little room in there, something like a village bath house, dirty, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is."
That paragraph never left your mind. You had always wanted eternity, to leave a legacy, you wanted to be important, to be remembered, and thinking of eternity as a dirty little room began to drive you crazy. Did the infinitude of the soul really not matter that much? you weren't afraid of dying, but you were afraid of not having anyone to remember you.
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Class passed by so painful slowly.
The biology teacher spoke about seaweed, about how they were everywhere — if there was light, there was seaweed. You looked at Lottie, on your side, imagining her engulfing you like the sea engulfed the land — if there was life, there was your love for Lottie.
You could drown in her love, — no, no, you wouldn’t drown —, you would willingly swallow more water than what you could take.
— Are you okay? — she turns around, asking with a pretty worried face.
How to tell all the complicated, sinful thoughts going through your mind? you never let yourself indulge in such desires —let alone recognize you had them. However, you knew it was clear: you wanted to keep being seen.
It took a lot of effort for you to talk, but you opened your mouth more, asked questions, broke the silence quite a few times… The team had given you a voice.
— What happened to Allie… It was truly scary — you decided to say, looking at the hand Lottie had put on the table, aching to be touched too — I never saw someone bleed so much.
It was a lie, but you never considered yourself much of a person to be upset about your bloody wounds; you bled paint, glitter pens, strawberry jam or a ribbon, nothing much human.
— Let’s think about something else, shall we? — Charlotte wanted to punch Taissa (more for giving bad thoughts to you than actually hurting Allie).
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—y/n, there’s no one more blessed than you, — Laura Lee started to say, a smile so gentle on her face that the sun itself could burn — you truly are gifted, such as me, for having you.
You smiled too, enticed by the words of your childhood company. There was tension in the circle, with all the girls saying sweet (yet imposing) words to one another. 
— Laura, you are one of my best friends and I’m so glad God led me to you, you shine as bright as the sun — you loved Laura, you hoped Laura never realized how sinful you were.
You two both hugged a very tight embrace, going to another lady. You stepped in front of Shauna, tilting your head at the girl.
— Y/n, you have a… a very nice taste in clothes and phrases.
You giggled lowly, shaking your head.
— Should I be upset about your delay? — you two both laughed slightly, you blinked one eye — I really enjoy you, Shauna, I enjoy your big eyes and big words. 
She didn’t say anything back, and soon you were passing close to Natalie: — I don’t really have anything nice to say about you…
— Oh, fuck off! — she muttered back, smiling like a fool while going in Jackie's direction.
— Taissa, you are very pretty, and perhaps too witty for your own good. 
— Y/n, you are the second best on the team.
And you didn’t even get upset by it, rather the contrary, you immediately assumed Lottie was the first —and you were so happy to be so close to Lottie in Tai's view.
Finally, the time came, the lamb walked in the direction of the flames.
— Lottie! — your voice was like a surprised giggle, staring deeply into the girl’s — I know God exists because I looked you in the eyes.
— y/n… — she took a deep breath, lost in words, swallowing everything she truly wanted to say, but she smiled — if God exists, I wonder when he will bless me with your lips.
Of course, this wasn’t what she truly said. In fact, Lottie kept quiet. She gave one step ahead and hugged you tightly, whispering on your ear:
— God exists in your embrace.
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Charlotte's house was not only large and full of rooms, but it was also full of space in the backyard —a plot big enough to have a vegetable garden and a pond you could bathe in. 
You weren't the biggest fan of pieces of water where you couldn't see the ground, so you loved being in the lake at Charlotte's house, where the water was almost crystal clear, showing the stones. You couldn't even think of what that pool of water must have cost Mr. and Mrs. Matthews.
Lottie was in the water, while you were sitting on the edge with your feet dangling and creating little ripples, you had leaves, twigs and flowers around, creating crowns of petals and plants. Charlotte stared at you curiously, wondering what you were thinking, although she knew that if she asked, the answer would be the same: "I'm not thinking about anything, dear Lottie, just feeling how much I love you and-"
Oh, right, that part wasn't really sincere, but Lottie liked to imagine you following the script that her own head was creating.
When Lottie thought of you, she didn't think of a love that warmed her all over, but a love that would cook her in an oven at 200 degrees and consume her entirely. 
She imagined you sitting at a beautiful table, waiting for her heart on a platter.
She imagined that you would accept the dish, that you would eat every morsel, saying promises of love —she imagined that you would accept her into your body in every way.
— Do you think the dinosaurs knew they were about to die? It makes me so sad to think that they might have just thought it was a miracle that such a shiny thing had come so close... — You pressed your lips together, stopping weaving the leaves to stare at the work in progress and pulling Charlotte out of her own head — I guess that's how it is with all warm and shiny things, one day they turn you to dust...
— Do you think it would have been different? If they'd known?
—  A lot of people only start to love once they know they may never love again, don't they?
— Well, that's Confucius' logic... But I don't know if I'd like to know that the end is so near, sometimes ignorance can be a gift.
— But it's still a lie.
— But it's going to end anyway, darling... What difference does a beautiful lie make? — Lottie stared at her best friend, she knew that nothing was more important to you than the truth, that's why everything was so painful and confusing for you.
Lottie realized that she had to be honest.
— Y/n, I need to tell you something, — she said, smiling nervously.
You looked at her curiously, stepping into the river to be closer to Lottie.
— I’m terrified of nationals. You need to come, I’ve asked the coach to put you on the regular.
You sighed slightly, thinking about how Allie couldn’t play any sooner.
— It’s a great opportunity for you, Lots… 
— I don't want it for me, I want it for us.
You stared at your best friend, a confused smile on your face, wondering how you should handle this situation.
— applepie, I need you to trust me on this... — Charlotte said, her voice serious, moving closer and wrapping her arms around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder — please. 
You turned your head, leaning it against Lottie's, your nose taking in the scent of your friend's hair cream. The water around you was cold, but your body was warm —your heart too.
— Okay... a test...
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“My dearest, Charlotte
I must apologize, I am not a good person with words getting out of my mouth, but, hopefully, I will be able to make them worthy of writing in this letter.
I tell you how much I appreciate you, however, I must confess, it's surprising for me how unsure of it all you seem to be; I suppose our own light truly can make us blind.
I feel like those words weren't enough, so I hope I can make you believe it with this list.
— I love the way you look at me after I say something you disagree with; I love how you expect your eyes to say everything you can't; Most of it all, I love how they truly say it.
— I love how when you laugh (truly laughs) your eyes become very small; I love how your cheeks work as a happy measure, I know when a joke is funny when I can't see your eyes.
— I love how you tilt your head when you are trying to make people see your point of view.
— I love that when you frown, your lips are pressed together, like you are sending a kiss to those you disagree with. I suppose you are just so full of love that your body releases it without even wanting to.
— I love your smell; I can sense everytime you enter the room, it's there instantly and I look for it like a dog in an airport. I never cared that much about perfumes, from all the five senses, smell was the one I took for granted; however it is different now: I find myself taking deep breaths around you, so usually that everytime I see a pretty fantastic view on my walks, I end up lacking air.
— I love your hair; I love how your bangs are always so neatly trimmed and placed, like the wind isn't a bother to your lines; I love how you play with it when you are filled with concentration.
— I love your fingers and how they look for my hand;
— I love your skin; I love how you glow in the sun, like Apollo is making it shine just for you; Deeply, I bet he is, how could the almighty god of art not wish to perpetuate the beauty of the most beautiful creation in the mortal realm?
— I love your mind most of it all, how you think; I love how you stay dedicated to one single singer but listens to multiple songs of various people; I love how you speak your mind when you are comfortable enough; I love how your favorite shows are the ones you didn't even finished watching, there's something very pure of loving a thing you don't even know how it's going to end; I love how one of your favorite colors is grey but you only uses light tones; I love how your biggest dream is to work paleontology, how you wish to dive deep into the past and look for answers; I love how your favorite animal are dogs because you see them more (what is strange for me at first, how can you have as your favorite something so daily?; until I realized that what you love the most is to have company; I do not wish for you to prefer anything else.);
— I love dogs (now).”
You took a deep breath, putting the decorated letter inside Lottie’s locker and walked straight outside, ready to enter the bus and be taken to the airport; leaving the confession letter to your future self.
Leaving to the future.
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aftg headcanon: dan and andrew actually become friends in dans senior year
so idr if this is in the ec or not but i think the upperclassmen had a great time at edens twilight on halloween and they end up going out with the monsters on a semi-regular basis. nora never mentions it but i reckon edens has a really nice smoking area where neil and andrew will go out for a cig. this is nothing groundbreaking so far BUT my hc is that dan used to smoke in high school (like on break at the club with her sisters), and still occasionally will crash a cig off someone when shes drunk. so please join me in picturing a Very trashed dan wilds pleading with a bemused andrew to give her a cigarette
also i love the idea of when andrew actually starts caring abt exy he seeks dan out to talk to her abt the team, like things hes noticed abt the backline or whatever. the first time dan about jumps out her skin when andrew is waiting for her after class but then he just wants to tell her about a new backline strategy hes thought of
OOH GOOD STUFF
I'm such a slut for the foxes becoming closer, especially inter-upperclassmen/monsters relationships so this is right up my lane. I think the upperclassmen DO start going out with the monsters and while Andrew probably has no interest in becoming close with the upperclassmen, Dan is the one most desperate for closer connection so I think she'd make a point of trying to learn what needs to be done and how to approach Andrew in the way that he'll accept. and I think it takes some time and a lot of being played with by Andrew before it becomes not unusual for them to be comfortable spending time with each other.
anyway I keep going back and forth on whether dan would be a smoker because I feel like she'd be the type of athlete to hate smoking/drugs (maybe?) but honestly for sake of this hc, fuck it. I think it'd also amuse Andrew to see the lengths she'd go to to get into his good books.
obsessedddd with the last point specifically because I see that happening even more clearly. I think he'd even prefer going to dan over Kevin or Neil because I think there's still that piece that wants to fight exy, that still doesn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him enjoy it. but Dan will never be that important to him and she wouldn't see it as a big enough deal to draw attention to it.
maybe one time Andrew goes over to coach's place to annoy him and finds coach and dan drinking coffee and talking exy and Andrew makes a point of being uninvolved with the conversation, instead just walking around poking through coach's shit or making himself a shake with the ice cream that only he eats or pulling out all the books on coach's shelves. and then he settles himself on the floor with his shake still characteristically mute and looking bored until the conversation changes. but then the next day he meets Dan at her class or corners her after practice and says "here's why your strategy sucks: " and she's very startled that he was even paying attention enough to understand it, let alone to think about it for a whole day afterwards but she collects herself and goes back and forth with him and next time she's ready for it.
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farfromstrange · 10 months
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Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Matt Murdock x reader one-shot?
If you aren't comfortable writing this, that's okay! Basically the reader in an abusive relationship with an older man and she meets Matt in a bar. They flirt over drinks and the reader goes back to his apartment with him in a lapse of judgment. The reader is enjoying herself, cracking jokes and pretending nothing is wrong. Because of Matt's extra sensory abilities he can tell there is something wrong with her though. She’s recently been injured and he can hear and smell some of her injuries.
She thinks he won't know she's injured because he is blind and they start making out at his place, but when he takes off her shirt he starts subtly checking her injuries. When he gets to her ribs he stops and questions the reader because he can feel that a few are broken. She insists it's nothing and tries to laugh it off and encourages him to keep making out with her. He tells her no because she’s hurt and she gets embarrassed and tries to leave. Matt can sense her panic and soothes her. He convinces her to stay and lie down so he can take care of her injuries and he comforts her as she cries and promises her boyfriend won't ever hurt her again.
Hello, lovely! I'm sorry it took so long for me to respond to this. Thank you so much for your request. Since this is a very sensitive subject, I tried my best to convey it in the right way, and thank God, I managed to finish it! I hope you're doing okay and that you like how I interpreted your request. Thank you again and take care of yourself <3
Narcissist | Matt Murdock x Reader
Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: Trying to catch a break from your abusive boyfriend, you find yourself seeking refuge and a drink at Josie's in the middle of the night. It's where you bump into Matt Murdock, a charming stranger with the promise of a night of fun. Little do you know that the seemingly normal stranger has a much better perception. After taking you home with him, it doesn't take him long to discover the dark nature of your need to escape.
Warnings: ANGST, description of domestic violence, abuse, description of injuries, kissing
Word Count: 7.5k
A/n: This request probably hits very close to home for some of you, so I want you to take care of yourselves and proceed with caution. There are resources for victims of abuse that you can turn to. I've found this page for victims of abuse that's available in 115 languages: Home « HotPeachPages International Don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it! Remember, this is a work of fiction and does not represent real life. Take care of yourselves <3
18+ MINORS DNI
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The crowded bar around him is bustling with noise. The distinctive smell of cheap beer and vodka clouds his senses. The balls on the pool table keep clanging against the corners and sliding into the holes. Conversations start to overlap. 
Josie’s has always held a special meaning to Matt. As uncomfortable as it could sometimes get, especially on Friday nights like this one, the chaos makes him feel at peace. The noise inside cancels out the sound of injustice that reaches his ears from the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, and sometimes a break is all he needs. 
He finds himself nursing a drink at the bar, listening to the condensation of his beer bottle hit the wooden counter. Lost in thought, he only lifts his head when the door opens. The bell attached to the frame rings out softly, barely tuning out the sound of fun that has started to dominate the room. 
Matt hears the steady sound of your heartbeat first. The muscles in your body are tense, and while your breath sounds calm, there’s a certain edge to the way you move and order your drink only a few inches apart from him. He can hear the sound of your voice, the smile that is undoubtedly fake but makes Josie smile too - and she doesn’t smile often because the clientele simply doesn’t deserve her kindness. You, however, seem to strike a nerve with your attitude. 
He can’t deny that there is a light surrounding you, but that light is about to be consumed by darkness. He can’t explain why he gets the feeling that something might be wrong; he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t recognize the distinctive smell of your perfume or the unique rhythm of your heartbeat. You’re a stranger and yet his mind instantly starts to circle what lies underneath the person you pretend to be. You’re not fake, he would never suspect that. You try to be yourself, or the version of yourself you want to be, but there seems to be something that is holding you back, something that is dragging you down and keeping your soul in a knot. 
The many eyes he feels turning toward you and the uptick of a few male heartbeats in the bar tell him what he already suspected; you’re attractive, and your smile captivates people. From what he can hear in your voice, you must be a comfortable character to be with, and as you say something to Josie that makes her laugh and he hears your laugh, Matt’s attention is on your entirely now. He’s intrigued. 
His head is screaming for him to leave it be, to leave you be, but he can’t stop himself. When Matt Murdock has his mind set on something, he needs to have it, and at that moment, it is you he wants to get to know. He can’t deny it; as curious as he is about who’s hiding behind the almost painfully obvious mask you put on - to a man with his heightened senses, at least - he is also attracted to you. Judging alone by the way you carry yourself, the sweet sound of your voice, and the way your laugh resonates, he can’t help but feel drawn to you. It’s a mix between curiosity, attraction, and concern that motivates him to grab his beer bottle and approach the chair you’ve seated yourself on, sipping on your vodka martini alone. No olives, he heard you tell Josie. You told her that you hate olives. 
“Mind if I join you?” he asks. 
The moment your eyes fall on him, your heart skips a beat. Your jaw loosens as you eye him more carefully, your cheeks flushing, and the oxygen gets stuck in your lungs for a little too long. At least the attraction is mutual, he thinks, and your exhale carries a sense of determination. 
He holds his breath. Your eyes roam over him again, a different aura surrounding you now. “Sure,” you say, your voice almost hoarse, but he ignores it. 
Matt smiles, almost relieved, and sits down next to you. “Can I buy you another drink?” he asks. He knows yours is still full, but he can’t tell you that he can smell the liquor clinging to the glass, and how it always smells heavier when it’s full than when it isn’t. 
You frown, a cute little crinkle forming between your brows, and then you giggle. Your giggle is even sweeter than your laugh, and the blood rushes to your cheeks again. Your heart races. Though this time, your laugh is genuine. It sounds genuine, at least. He revels in it for a little too long.
“Um,” you begin, and your voice cracks as you try not to laugh. “I just got a drink. I’m usually not the glass-half-full type, but in this case, the glass is half-full. ‘Cause that’s the appropriate amount for a vodka martini.”
He chuckles. “I’m sorry,” he says and tips his glasses. “I should have thought about that question before I asked. I didn’t see… well, I can’t see.”
He listens to your heartbeat. There’s a moment of hesitation before you laugh, noticing he’s waiting for a reaction. You laugh and it’s genuine again. The concern he had before flies out of the window and what’s left at that moment is this feeling of pure awe when he imagines the kind of person that is sitting next to him, and that he managed to lighten some of your darkness with a joke he often uses. 
“So, you still have a drink and I know Josie well enough that I shouldn’t recommend her cheese fries. That means I don’t have much else to offer you except-” Matt extends his hand, “I’m Matthew. Matthew Murdock.”
He raises his hand and you lean back a little, swallowing and considering twice what to do with his introduction. He frowns. Your reaction seems odd, and he sees the darkness sparkling again. Slowly, he lowers his hand again and offers a comforting smile. 
“You don’t have to talk to me,” he says. “I didn’t mean to come off too strong. I just heard that you were alone, as weird as that sounds, and I thought you’d want some company because, uh, I’m also here alone.” He tips his beer bottle in her direction. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, just say the word and I’ll leave.”
You swallow again, eye him, then exhale. Your shoulders slack and you turn toward him, your attention not wavering. When he finally hears your name come out of your mouth with gentle shyness, he smiles brightly again. You even offer him your nickname and it relaxes him to know you’re not as uncomfortable as you had first seemed. 
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
You return the favor, “Pleasure’s all mine.”
“Just to check in,” he smirks, “Is your drink still full?”
He hears you giggle again and he joins in. “It’s half-empty,” you say. 
“Oh. Well, mine’s too.”
“Then maybe we should just keep drinking and you can buy me another one after that?” 
Matt smirks. You’re bolder than he thought. He sets the brim of his bottle to his lips and says, “Deal,” before taking a long swig. 
You do the same. 
At the beginning of the day, you would have never suspected you would end up in this position. If you’re being honest with yourself, it seemed like an impossibility before. You woke up to the same nagging feeling in your stomach. You woke up just to be torn down. But every person reaches their breaking point eventually. 
Over the past two years, your days have looked the same. Every morning, you’ve dreaded waking up the same way you’ve dreaded going to bed at night, knowing that hell would start again in the morning. It has become a downward spiral that has gotten out of control. 
Every morning, you have to wake up before sunrise to make breakfast or you know your first conversation of the day would be a fight. You have to pack lunch and you have to give a proper goodbye. You go to work, and you get a few hours of break, but every hour, after every meeting, you have to send a message to the one person you even dread getting back home to now. You have to account for your whereabouts, you can’t go out after work and you can’t have friends. You need to cook dinner or your night will end in more fighting and pain, and you would wake up in the morning twice as uncomfortable. Most of the time, you have to serve your body on a silver platter to finally make the night end, and if you as much as slip up once, you’re going to have to suffer the consequences because as a woman and girlfriend, it’s your job.
At first, you were blind. You met a nice guy, you went on a few dates and it seemed like a dream come true. You were happy. The quirks he started to show a few months into the relationship were red flags, but you were young and so in love with a man older and more experienced than you, you ignored the signs. You believed him because he’s always made sure to tell you he knows better. The things he asked of you, you did out of love, but the more time passed, the more you started realizing that you’d gotten yourself into quite a predicament. 
The red flags you hadn’t seen before are clear now, and you know that the life you’re living is no real way to live, but whenever you get a moment of clarity and want to leave, it’s the smallest display of affection that makes you fall right back into the trap. Your daily routine has become a standard. Your relationship feels like a job and it hurts, more often physically than mentally, but his words are scarring all the same. You’ve tried fighting back, but it has always ended badly for you. 
Tonight though, something snapped in you. You were frustrated and in a moment of strength (or weakness) you decided to leave. That’s how you ended up at Josie’s, a bar far away from the apartment you share with the man you fell in love with but hasn’t been the same ever since your relationship became official. You stormed out and you walked the dark streets until your feet hurt and you couldn’t wait for an unhealthy amount of liquor anymore. Your goal had been to get drunk.
Never in a million years would you have thought that someone like Matt would walk up to you, let alone offer you his company. If you came home that night and he found out, you know for a fact you would have died. Though as the clock keeps ticking and you keep talking with this stranger that is starting to feel less and less like a stranger, you don’t want to go home. The feeling of being listened to is alien yet comfortable, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him. He’s compassionate, he’s kind and he’s funny. He is the kind of man you thought your boyfriend was before he turned around and stabbed you in the back, and he’s kept you there ever since. 
Though when Matt turns his head to you, making sure you know you have his attention, there is a faint flicker of hope you had once thought dead hidden away deep inside, and it’s starting to show. Just for tonight, you decide, you shut the part of yourself off that you can’t even seem to understand. For tonight, you decide, you’re going to pretend everything’s fine and that you’re not stuck in a cycle made by the devil himself. You decide to have fun. And you haven’t had that kind of fun in a very long time. 
He’s a lawyer, he tells you. He’s his own boss, he works with his best friend and he only helps those who can’t help themselves. He prefers justice over money. He’s catholic. He’s everything your mother once told you to bring home, and while they like the man you’re with, they would hate him if they knew the truth. Most people would. It’s only human to hate a man like that, especially for the things he did and continues to do. You know you’re supposed to hate him, and deep down you do, but love is a fickle thing and you can’t help but need him, even after all he’s done to hurt you. And that, in your head, is fucked up enough to get another drink. 
You get so enthralled in another conversation that you almost fail to notice Josie’s glance from behind the bar. Her eyes carry a look of concern that have you wondering what you did wrong. That’s when it dawns on you.
You touch your cheek, noticing how some of the sweat from your forehead has started to dissolve your concealer. You’re not allowed to buy expensive makeup, so you settle for what seems the most natural, and it does little to cover bruises because you’re not allowed to go out most of the time anyway, and you’ve never had the most obvious bruises on your face before. Today, that is different. 
For a second, you’re relieved Matt can’t see the obvious blue discoloration of the skin around your eye, then you meet Josie’s eye and the panic settles in. You touch your cheek and flinch when you apply too much pressure to the fresh bruise, trying to hide the shivers that adorn your skin. 
Matt looks confused and at the same time concerned, reaching out to touch your back and ask, “Are you okay?” He calls your name and it’s the softest sound you’ve ever heard. 
You don’t deserve it, you think. You lied to him, you told him you were single and that you were simply at Josie’s for an after-work drink. You laughed with him and you allowed him to flirt with you. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’ve lied to him or that you’re still lying to yourself by thinking any of this is okay. 
His hand brushes over a particularly sensitive spot just above your spine and you flinch. The sharp pain shoots straight down through the bone. It’s not his hand that lays on you now, it’s someone else’s. It’s the hand that bruised the skin. You know it’s not Matt’s fault, he doesn’t know what you’re hiding, but the anger inside your chest begins to bubble up. You’re agitated, and you know this is all on you. It can’t be on anyone else because you’ve put yourself in this position. 
You hastily scramble for your bag. 
“Where are you going?” Matt asks. “Did I say something wrong?”
You are quick to assure him, “No, not at all, I just… I gotta use the bathroom real quick. Excuse me.”
He follows you with his hearing alone, confused and concerned at the same time. Your steps retreat toward the women’s bathroom. The wood falls back into its hinges behind you. He can hear you placing your bag down on the sink and searching for something. The squishy sound of a tube of concealer fills his ears as you take out the sponge and apply some of it to your cheeks, rubbing the color into your skin. 
What you don’t know, he’s heard the hitch of your breath and the uptick of your heartbeat whenever a bittersweet lie has slipped past your lips. He could smell the fear radiating off your body. Whenever his hands brushed your skin, you grew uneasy but at the same time aroused by the simple action. You’re stuck in a weird middle space between attraction and anxiety and he’s starting to piece the puzzle together. 
When you flinched when he touched your back, he knew. He could feel the bone under your skin shift and the blood pooling in one particular spot. The nerves stretching over the muscle are inflamed, he noticed, and the fear that has suddenly spiked your heartbeat and prompted you to storm off into the bathroom set off the alarms in his head. 
Inside, you’re trying your hardest not to cry as you pat the concealer onto your skin. The bags under your eyes look so much heavier in the artificial lighting. The bruise is starting to sparkle a bright purple at the edges and the veins in the corner of your eyes are redder than usual. The vessels that burst only a couple of days ago still haven’t recovered. 
And your mind begins to reel; you wonder where you went wrong. Deep down, you know none of this was your fault, but as you look at yourself in the mirror and the ghastly picture on your right eye imprints in your brain, you begin to wonder if there was something you could have done better.
Usually, your days turn into a blur, but today remains a vivid picture in your mind. You once told yourself that if you stick to the rules set for you, you could be somewhat happy. Last night, you forgot to think. Your work day had been rough and when one of your colleagues asked if you wanted to grab a coffee with them, you were too exhausted to say no. A crowded café sounded better than the hell awaiting you at home. You lied and texted your boyfriend that your boss dropped another load of paperwork on your desk, and at first, it seemed like your lie worked. 
The people you work with are all around your age - some of them are even fresh out of college, and there is this guy, Louis, who’s simply a joy to be around. It was just a cup of coffee and a small stroll around New York, but when you came home and noticed you were still wearing your colleague’s jacket, there was not much that could hold the man you share a bed with back from unleashing his anger on you. 
You lost count of how many times you apologized. You didn’t cry, you simply let him have his way with you. As twisted as it may sound, you thought you deserved it. His hands and his words made you feel so incredibly small, you searched for the fault within you. You thought you did something wrong by accepting a friendly gesture, by doing something for yourself, and by being human. He’s always had a way of making you believe what he believes, but last night, he went too far. 
You’ve often been incapacitated by his punishment, but he left you completely humiliated, bloody, and bruised to sleep on the couch with bruises that still bothered your back from his outburst a week ago, and you found yourself crying yourself to sleep. It didn’t stop there. This morning, he barely paid attention to you, and for every word you said, he made sure to tear your pride down even further. By the time he left for work, you were late and crying and the kitchen was such a mess, he threatened to make you regret it if you didn’t clean up right this instant. So you stayed behind, you cleaned up, you put on the concealer that has become a shield from the prying eyes of the world, and you went to work. 
The last straw came when you arrived home long after him and he didn’t get the dinner he required. This time though, when he raised his hand and continuously beat down on the bruise around your eye, you didn’t lay down and cry. You waited until he was done and tucked into bed, grabbed your bag, and stormed out. What compelled you to make the decision, you aren’t sure, but it seemed to have been the right thing at the time. 
Though you know that if you decide to come back home in the morning, a black eye and a few broken ribs will be the least of your problems. 
You’re angry. You’re angry at him for making you doubt yourself and the life he’s forced you to abandon so many times before. You’re angry at him for taking your pride and turning you into someone too afraid to stand up for themselves. 
You make a decision, and it’s a decision you should have made a long time ago. 
Matt lifts his head when he hears you approach. There seems to be something different about the way you carry yourself. It’s an angry determination, a thirst for revenge, but at the same time, he can tell from the way you move and look at him that the attraction he has caught before has not once wavered. 
“Do you want to get out of here?” you ask him. 
He’s taken aback. The rational part of him screams that you’re in no state to make such a decision, but the rational part is also the concerned part and he knows that if he says no, you will find someone else to take you home and you probably won’t be as safe as he wants you to be. With him, at least, he knows you’re safe. 
So Matt makes a decision too. Unbeknownst to you though, he has a different motivation in mind when he says, “Let’s go back to my place.”
Your eyes light up and your lips curl into a smirk. “I’d love that.”
Your bold question inevitably leads you into a mouse trap. One second, you’re admiring Matt’s apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen and the way the Billboard’s green color illuminates the brown furniture, the next you have discarded the coffee he made you and find yourself seated on his lap. 
He’s a good kisser. Not that you have much experience in that arena, but as soon as you decide to kiss him - because in your life, hardly any decisions are ever yours - you get lost in the soft feeling of his plump lips moving effortlessly against yours. It’s as if he studied how to kiss. 
His hands on his hips are gentle and steady, yet he keeps you pressed to him as if he’s scared of losing you. You tangle your hands in his hair. The brown locks feel like heaven under your fingertips and you sigh into his mouth. His tongue slips between your lips and he makes sure to taste every last inch he can reach. 
You can feel his cold fingertips on your bruised skin underneath your shirt, but you don’t mind. Maybe it’s because he can’t see that you’re not scared of his touch. 
When he calls your name softly and asks, “May I?” as he attempts to take your shirt off, you’re taken aback for a second. The way he asks leaves room for you to make a choice. With a soft smile, you nod and he slides your shirt off. 
Leaning back down, you capture his lips once more. He smells like rain and sandalwood. He reminds you of a beautiful day in fall, the sun shining down on the still-wet ground as the leaves sway in the wind. His calloused fingers send shivers down your spine, but his touch has never been gentler. 
You know what you’re doing is wrong, but the sin of his lips tastes sweeter than heaven, and if wanting him was such a bad thing, you would gladly go to hell. Matt is a stranger, yet he makes you feel more alive than anyone else ever has. He sets your body on fire with a single touch, his lips dancing to a choreography that is now etched into your brain. He holds you close, he keeps you safe, and the pleasure that ripples through you is a new sensation that makes you feel so alive - for a moment, you finally forget about everything else. You forget about your boyfriend, you forget about the bruises and you forget about the fear and the pain that seems to follow you everywhere you go. You don’t feel the need to hesitate; you just want him. 
You get so lost in the taste of him, you misjudge the placement of his hands as sexual intimacy. It’s only when he pushes you away ever so softly that you open your eyes, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen from his vicious attack on them with his teeth. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed. 
“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to regain your breath. 
The green light reflects off his brown irises, his unfocused eyes carrying a sense of concern as they roam your face. He reaches out to touch your cheek, his other hand staying on your ribs. His thumb traces circles over the obvious bruise that adorns your right side, and he manages to find the bruise you’ve covered on your face with ease. Your mind is hazy and you can’t find it in yourself to question his actions. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and you watch him closely, the concern multiplying with each stroke of his fingers. 
His voice is soft yet hoarse when he speaks up. “What happened?” he asks. 
You frown. “What do you mean?”
“You’re hurt.”
Your heart starts beating faster. “It’s nothing. I’m okay. Let’s just keep going…” You lean back down to kiss him once more, but he stops you. 
“Sweetheart, your ribs are broken.”
At first, you wonder how he knows, but your curiosity is quickly replaced by the need to shield yourself. 
“I’m not going to take advantage of you while you’re injured. I need to know,” he says softly, “who hurt you?”
You pull away suddenly, climbing off his lap. You find your shirt on the floor and put it back on. Your heart races. His question runs circles around your head. Your hands shake as you get dressed again, and Matt whimpers softly at the loss of your warmth. 
He calls your name. Your silhouette is burning with fear and he is half-convinced that you might get a heart attack if your pulse doesn’t slow down. He knows he’s hit a nerve. The suspicion he’s had before becomes clearer, but he doesn’t want to assume something without hearing it from you first. Judging from your determination though, he needs to act fast or you will get yourself in danger as soon as he lets you out of the door. 
“This was a mistake,” you mutter under your breath, your voice quivering. 
You would be lying if you said this was the first time someone asked you this, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say that this is the first time someone has been genuine while asking, and it’s that part of his voice that breaks your heart and urges you to run. You made a mistake, you’ve meant what you said, but you’re not sure if Matt is the problem. If anything, spending time with him has proven to you that the mistake is sitting at home, waiting for you to come back and beat you into submission over and over again.
Matt cares and the fact that he does hurts so badly because now you realize how stupid you’ve been ogling for a love that has been built on violence and manipulation from the beginning. Your boyfriend has never loved you and he probably never will, and realizing that hurts even more than the fact that you’re about to push someone away who seems as if he just wants to help - and help is what you need, but God, do you hate admitting it. 
You should have known Matt wouldn’t let you go without a fight. 
He reaches out to catch your arm. “Wait,” he calls out for you softly. “Don’t go, please. I’m sorry, I just… I’m worried about you. I feel like you’re hiding something and I’m afraid that if I let you go now, you’re going to get seriously hurt. So please… please, talk to me.”
“You don’t even know me,” you snap, a pathetic attempt at keeping your heart safe from the vulnerability. “You don’t get to do this.”
“Someone’s hurting you.”
You swallow. The tears are threatening to fall. You’ve had a rough couple of days - no, you’ve had a rough two years and you’ve been waiting for a lifeline for so long, you eventually decided to give up. But there he is, Matt Murdock, holding out his hand for you to take. The lifeline is so close yet so far away, only because the fear that has seeped into your soul keeps you tied to the ground, unable to fight back. Oh, you want to fight back, but you’ve never learned how. You want to reach for the lifeline he’s throwing you, but you’re afraid of what it might mean. 
Matt tugs at your arm again. He says your name and you listen. The soft sound is about to snap the invisible string that keeps you detached from reality in two, and the tears are about ready to fall. 
“I know I don’t know you and I have no right to ask about your personal life, but I can tell that you’re scared. I can tell that you’re hurt. I won’t force you to stay, I’m not that kind of man, but I also don’t want you to leave. Just tell me, are you safe?”
You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. 
“Are you okay?” he asks again. “If I let you go now, are you going to return to a home that is safe for you to stay in?”
So many questions and only one right answer. He doesn’t need to hear you say it to know what your answer is going to be. 
He lets go of your hand, albeit hesitantly. You don’t move. He expected you to run out, but instead, you stay. You stand there and don’t move. It’s as if your heart has made a decision that your mind is still arguing with, but he can tell that you’re not going to move. 
Once again, he calls your name. “Are you going to be okay?”
The invisible string snaps. “No,” you whisper.
Matt tilts his head. He doesn’t push you, he simply holds out his hand again. 
This is the first time in two years you say it out loud, but it sends the stone rolling down the hill and the tears start falling. “I think I need help…” You suck in a sharp breath, but it’s too late. The dam has already broken. 
He nods softly, opening his arms to you and you take the hug without hesitation. When was the last time someone has hugged you? You’re not sure. It’s been a while. You’ve been detached from the real world for so long, you almost forgot what it’s like to be human, to receive affection, to live your life the way you want it, and make your own decisions. You forgot what it’s like to breathe. 
Violent sobs wrack your body. You feel yourself shaking in his arms. His touch offers a sanctuary for you to release your anguish, and you do so plenty. The tears cascade down your cheeks, wetting your shirt and his. He only holds you tighter, making sure you don’t collapse. 
Every inch of your body is trembling. Fire spreads through your muscles, and the tension within them starts to dissipate. It slips off your shoulders and shatters to the floor like fragile glass. You realize that you’re just as fragile. Your foundation has taken so many hits, so many cracks, and you’ve tried everything to keep yourself upright. You developed methods of survival, but you’ve never truly lived. You’ve spent the past two years caged in, not even allowing yourself to cry because he considers it a sign of weakness. 
As Matt holds you close to him, the sickening feeling of loneliness is still there, but you no longer feel alone. You feel listened to. You feel comforted. It’s almost overwhelming. You find yourself unable to breathe while at the same time breathing better than ever before. Your body quivers again, and his grip tightens. You can feel his lips on your scalp, his fingers painting a pattern on your skin through your clothes. 
You’ve been scared and you’re still scared, but with Matt, it seems a little more bearable. There is something about him that just won’t let you go, but you mean that in all the best ways possible. 
As the waves of despair crash over you, you find solace in the warmth of his embrace. His steady presence and compassion create a haven amidst the chaos.
Gradually, the storm subsides, leaving behind a sense of catharsis. With tear-stained cheeks and a trembling voice, you gather the shattered fragments of your story, ready to share them with someone who truly listens, understands, and cares. You need help, you know that. You can run, but you can't escape on your own. And in Matt's unwavering gaze, you find the courage to speak your truth.
Silently, he guides you to his bed. He lays you down gently, encouraging you to take off your shirt. You’re not sure what the ointment he brings into the bedroom is made out of, but your tears make it impossible to speak. 
“This might sting,” he mutters. 
It wasn’t a lie. The scent alone stings in your nose, but as soon as the salve hits your skin, the cooling effect tunes out the pain of it all. You let out a trembling breath. 
“I’m sorry. You’re doing great. I’m almost done.”
He covers every last bruise you point out with the ointment. He cleans the concealer off your face and presses an ice pack against the bruised skin. He doesn’t speak. His ears are focused on the sound of your calming heartbeat and the comfort displayed in your body language. He listens to your breathing. He focuses on the signs that tell him that you’re alive and that you’re safe with him. He focuses on the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers, the jump of your pulse, and the way you reach out to hold his forearm as he pays close attention to the scrapes he finds on your arm. 
On his way up your body, he catches a single tear that has slipped your eye and started running down your neck. He strokes along the wet trail until he reaches your face. His thumb brushes over your cheek and he smiles, his brown eyes warm and focused. 
You look down at where he’s kneeling next to the bed, his hands still gentle, his touch never pressuring you into something you don’t want. You shiver. The ice around your heart has melted, leaving you behind naked and vulnerable, and your defenses are finally gone. 
He catches another tear. “Who did this to you?” he asks. 
You gather all of your strength to answer. “We’ve been together for two years,” you tell him. 
“So he’s your boyfriend?” There is a different sound to his voice now. 
You nod. 
“He did this to you?”
You nod again. 
“Regularly?”
“Yes,” you say. 
“Jesus Christ,” he curses under his breath, and you swear you saw him grab the cross necklace that is dangling off his neck. If he’s praying for self-control or your safety, you’re not sure. Maybe both. 
You take a deep breath, the weight of the past continuing to drag you down, and your boyfriend's voice loud and clear in your ear, threatening to hurt you. But not this time, you decide. You're stronger than that. In a short amount of time, you've seen how much better you deserve, and how much better you could have, and you want to learn how to breathe again. You want to make your own decisions. You don't want to be fueled by revenge or afraid to be hurt; you just want to live. That's all you've ever wanted. To live and to be in love, there has to be another way because what you've been shown up until now has been anything but genuine love. 
"It started small,” you begin, your voice still shaky, and the tears continuing to run, “insignificant things at first. He would get angry over the smallest mistakes or things that didn't go his way. But then it escalated... his anger, his violence. It became a pattern, a cycle that I couldn't break free from. He had these rules… I broke ‘em. I broke ‘em a lot, and whenever I screwed up, he would…” You swallow, the words too painful to utter. 
Matt understands. He knows what you want to say and he squeezes your hand, offering his support in the only way he knows how to. His touch is gentle, a kind of touch you’re not used to but want to get used to more than anything because it’s a touch like this that you’re craving. 
“None of this is your fault,” he says. His voice is gentle and affectionate toward you, but you don’t miss the unbridled rage hidden away inside. 
You don’t blame him. 
"I mean, I know. It's not like I don't know what abuse looks like, and I know it's wrong whenever I'm lucid, but then he looks at me and I just... I used to blame myself, and think I was the one who caused it. But deep down, I knew it was wrong. I just... didn't know how to escape,” you say. “So I played along because sometimes, he'd be the man I fell in love with and I wouldn't hate him as much, and he'd make me believe I needed him. He made me believe that serving him is all I'm good for, and I truly believed it. Sometimes, I still do. I feel so stupid now. God!" You sniffle, and the next sob breaks free from your throat.
He shushes you. “It’s still not your fault and it never was. Men like that… they thrive off of power and there is something seriously wrong with them, not with you. Please, believe me.”
“Then why didn’t I run?” 
The helpless sound of your voice breaks his heart. “He made you dependent on him. He forced you into submission. It’s co-dependency. It’s not your fault.”
The more he repeats the same four words, the further they settle in. They break through your mindset with a hammer, find a free spot in your mind, and manifest. 
"I understand, I really do," Matt says. "You deserve to be loved and understood, not used and abused. Leaving an abusive situation is never easy. But you took the first step today, acknowledging that you need help. That’s something you should be so incredibly proud of…”
You wipe your cheeks. “I just feel so empty,” you admit and he nods.
“Yeah, I get that.”
“And I’m scared I’ll go back to him. I don’t want to. Please, don’t let me go back to him.” 
Your arms reach out and he doesn’t hesitate to hold you close again. Rubbing your back as you sob, he whispers soothing sweet nothings into your ear. You cling to him, you cling to the lifeline he offers and he makes sure to keep your head above water this time. He won’t let you drown. 
“You’re not alone anymore,” and he says your name with the utmost conviction. “I’ve got you. We’ll find a way to keep you safe, okay? I promise.”
“I was so scared,” you sob. 
“I know.”
“I was so scared no one would believe me. I feel so foolish now.”
“I know, it’s okay. You did the right thing. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says.
It’s not your fault.
You repeat the same four words over and over again, and they manifest even deeper. You need to believe them, you want to believe them. 
He continues to hold you until your sobs have subsided and you can breathe again, looking at him, and he smiles back at you. 
Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you ask, “Matt?”
“Yes?”
“What do I do now?”
“I’ll keep you safe,” he says. 
“But how…”
“Trust me, I’ll find a way.”
You look into his eyes, and almost as if he can feel it, he comes closer. “You know, I’m not that good with trusting people,” you say, your voice soft and almost bordering on a whisper. 
Matt smiles and brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle individually. It’s a simple display of affection that has your heart doing cartwheels. You feel warm inside. You haven’t felt so warm in a while. He’s found the key to a hidden part of you, a part you’ve been forced to bury, and he’s made it his mission to unlock it - and it worked. 
“I’m not that good with trusting people either,” he says, almost as vulnerable as you, “But I care about you and I want to help. I’m going to help. There’s always a way, and I’m a lawyer, I know people we can talk to to make this guy suffer for what he did to you. I promise to keep you safe, you can trust me on that, whatever it takes. I'm here for you. You've been through so much, and I want you to know that you're safe now."
You sniffle. "It's just... it's been a long time since someone cared enough to ask if I was okay. I didn't think anyone would believe me if I told them. This is so overwhelming, and it feels too good to be true." A sad smile spreads across your face. He reaches out to trace your features, gently trying to memorize every last crevice, painting a picture of you in his mind, and it's not just your soul that is so tragically beautiful. 
He smiles softly, keeping his hands on your face, a silent way of grounding you, of being close to you without pushing boundaries. He wants to be close to you, craves it, he wants to protect you and keep you safe - and he wants to make the man who hurt you so deeply to suffer. "I believe you," he says. "I want to help you heal. I want you to get the justice you deserve. You don't have to face this alone anymore. I know we don't know each other, but I would never leave you hanging, especially not in a situation like yours."
Fresh tears spring into your eyes as your sad smile turns almost grateful. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. "Thank you," you murmur. 
“Anytime,” he whispers back. “You deserve to be loved and cherished. You’re a good person.”
“I forgot what it feels like to be loved…”
Grabbing your hand, he squeezes it gently. “I know,” he says, “But you’re going to remember. I’ll help you remember if that’s what you want. ‘Cause you’re too good to be used like that.”
You chuckle, a tear sliding down your cheek. “That sounds nice, actually,” you admit. 
“Do you have anywhere to go to?”
You think for a moment; your family lives out of town and you don’t have any friends. You’re completely and utterly alone and the realization strikes you hard.
Matt hears the change in your heartbeat and his face softens further. “I take that as a no,” he says. 
You look away. You know you don’t want to go back, you can’t go back, he promised you wouldn’t have to go back, but you also have nowhere else to go. 
But then he is there and he grabs your face with both of his hands, underlining what he had actually meant to say. “You can stay here,” he says.
Do you want to stay with a stranger? You contemplate. You’ve asked him for help and you appreciate the way he makes you feel so secure, but there is this dark part of you that is afraid of what might happen if you do and suggest to not put up a fight and go back home. You need to choke out that dark part of you.
“You deserve better.”
And you hope you can remember that. 
“He can’t hurt you here, so I want you to stay with me. Just for tonight. Just until we’ve figured out a way to keep you safe permanently, okay?” 
The look in his eyes in genuine. “You mean that?” you ask. You’re not sure why you trust him so much, or why you don’t even consider questioning how he plans on protecting you because something tells you he knows what he’s talking about, and maybe that’s because he’s one of the most expressive men you’ve ever met. There is not a lie that could have slipped you. 
“I swear on my life,” Matt says. 
In desperate need for a break, for safety, for solace, you nod. “Okay,” you say.
He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” Though it is you who has to thank him.
Matt Murdock just saved your life and you don’t quite know how you could ever fully repay him for not giving up on you like most people in your life have ever since you were born, and for the first time, you truly believe that you don’t have to return to the same hell you just escaped from. He’s got you, you trust him on that, and as you lie in his bed that night, trying to fall asleep, a sense of safety settles in that finally reignites that glimmer of hope that had gotten lost on the long, rocky road to where you are now. 
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busterkeel · 1 year
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I love the tall Jazz concept, but what I love more is tall Fenton siblings
Jazz has to be taller than Danny, she could be 6"9 or 6"10
Danny could be 6"7
I'd say Danny started growing when he was 16
His ghost form doesn't/hasn't aged though because reasons....
In my mental sinario Dan turned over a new leaf with some help comforting from Jazz and he's 1 or 2+ inches taller than Jazz, like 6"11+
He doesn't have a human identity because he likes staying in the zone more, unless he's looming over amity for some strange reason or visiting Jazz,(Jack or Maddie)
Honestly now that I'm typing it I can see them making time to visit him in the zone
Maybe they feel regret, if they hadn't been so caught up on their ecto experiment and research the portal accident wouldn't have happened, he wouldn't have been so scared to tell them he's part ghost, and they would have had time to notice his school grades were low so he wouldn't have felt he need to cheat
Dani at age 12 is like up to Danny's neck in his original height at age 14, so I'd say she's like 4"10
But when danny has his growth spurt she grows to Danny's original height of 5"5 when she reaches 14
I guess some part of her want to seen as a younger sibling(because of the whole vlad clone replacement fake family, she wants a real one, so she emotionally doesn't allow herself to grow faster than danny, jazz & Dan) and she still hasn't hit her growth spurt like Danny did, but when she does or allows herself to she'll 1 or 1 1/2 inch shorter and danny being
She has a ligit human identity which has been set up by Tucker, Technus and Desiree......, let's say she was at boarding school from 11 and below
Does Wisconsin have a boarding school?
Well it does now, she was being taken care of by Vlad (who had made up with the fentons)
He sponsors them now....(these dots are really me just holding back from explaining 😭)
Dani also travels alot (paid by Vlad of course) and she trusted to take care of herself, from her past roaming experience (plus she's a fenton/phantom 💪) she visits when she wants to and on holidays
I'd like to say her obsession is freedom, she can be who she wants to be and not someone she failed to be, (this is also why I think that mind control wouldn't work on her like Danny) which is also why I give her a water core since unbound it can mold into anything
Let's say Vlads ghost obsession was making him crazy, all that time he was alone with that ecto achnee made his obsession seeking out kin someone who'd understand him, aka Danny
Especially when he wanted something but he didn't know what, so he got rich to try to fill the void, and then when he found something that would fill it aka Danny he wanted him to join him
Honestly all that time alone, with his doctors not know what the hell is wrong with him, and him having to figure out his powers blind, his feeling of abandonment from Jack & maddie, the root of the problem being Jack and seeing Jack happily with a family
Made him even crazy
Making him want to steal from Jack, aka wanting Maddie and Danny
(I know I didn't explain this as best as I wanted, but this is not what I came here for)
He gives up the mayor seat to a nice guy who like to drink tea, has a mustache and looks like he gives nice hugs
Anywho as I said he sponsors the fentons who in turn sponsors Amity park with ghost tech, ghost shields in certain places
in the future after canon (beside the whole identity reveal) there should be a Amity park announcement that can pic up different ecto signatures that Maddie and Jack put in like
" ANNOUNCEMENT CODE RED LVL 3 Ghost Snake"
"ANNOUNCEMENT AMBER IS HAVING A CONCERT IN AMITYS PARK 3RD PARK AT 7PM"
Also what if they have like a GhostGo app (like pokemon go) Let's say Tucker created it and if you see a ghost you can take a picture of them and it'll be added to you own personal database
I imagine Youngblood being rare cause only children and child at heart can see him, but even if they take a picture of where he is he'll still show up blank, but they have the option to draw him
Anyways I can imagine after everyone is grown up Maddie and Jack start traveling to paranormal places to research ghost activity
(I've also have in my headcanon from someone else, that years ago before the portal they went to a event in Gotham to get Bruce Wayne to sponsor them and he laughed in their face)
.......
Reasons why Danny's ghost form isn't aging
Even tho he knows he wont turn evil like Dan there's still some uncertainty mentally that's holding him back, like no one being able to stop him of he turned evil, he doesn't like being strong......
He know he wont be like Dan (which is why his human form is aging to an extent) but in his ghost form there still that lil fear of becoming evil and that's stopping his ghost form from aging and looking like Dan
Like around 18 years old he is crowned crown prince(he was already a prince, but now they're really getting him ready for the throne" and he starts learning about ghost history and kingly stuff, but then he learns that the whole tittle comes with a power boost (I've read a fanfic that does this and loved it) and now that too powerful to stop if he turns evil is slowly creeping up the just a lil 🤏
The more I explain this the more it Branches off into my other mental sinarios I was just trying to tell the height differences......
Well....The whole town is liminal, some more than others and they are sick of the Justice league not taking them seriously and answering their pleas. Like after the whole town went into the zone and they still didn't help, they gave up on them and now hold a strong disgust towards them
Ok im done, I really had to force myself to stop typing this is not what I came here to explain....
Just one more thing
I should mention that Danny wanted to be an astronaut, but because of the ecto in his blood he can't so he stuck with being a Nasa engineer (I think they don't need your medical history for that) plus he can fly to space any time he wants
In the zone Dan is called Lord Phantom, older brother of (crown) Prince Phantom, Jazz would be called Princess Jazz, but I don't want the justice league to figure out their identity, like I want it impossible unless they're trusted enough to be told
But once again amitians don't like the justice league so....... she's called High Princess.
Dani could be called Princess Dani or princess Phantom
(She's called Ella in her human form)
18 + 5 = 23/24 when he's with nasa(still dodging being crowned, basically king without the crown, he'll take it soon... maybe that's why the justice league comes knocking [like that one fanfic where all the magic users feel it] after a long time of connecting to Amity park), Jazz would be 25/26 psychologist in Gotham, just meeting or going out with Jason, Dani is traveling places hard to reach, and is in ghost knight training. Don't know what Dan would be doing? Or Sam, Tucker & Valarie would be outside the zone
I imagine the fenton siblings towering over the Wayne's/batfam if she ever introduces them, Honestly still mad at frickin Bruce from friendly neighborhood vigilante ch. 14
Anyways the reason for this is because of the recent tall jazz fanfic had my mind running.
........This is posted some days later, I really went off track and didn't even want to post it anymore. I really just came to talk about the heights. The only reason why I finished it is because of another headcanon that formed while I was typing this, which will be in part 2 !
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mrsnancywheeler · 1 month
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ommggg i read let me down easy today and i kept re-reading it bc its TOO GOOD AHH !!🦅🦅
it hurt so much but im a whore for angst first, and a human second🫶
just thinking about the reader suffering in silence because she feels guilty for having any negative feelings towards finnick :(( the way she dismisses those feelings bc she thinks that whatever she’s going through is nothing compared to what he’s been through :((
also thinking abt finnick’s slow realization that she’s suffering because of him :(( like the incident at the market is when he began to notice the changes :(( and later when he fully understands how his behavior affected her IT MESSES HIM UP SO BAD
i just know he was remembering his past interactions with reader (where she breaks the glass / when she rejected his money at the pearl necklace stand) AND CRINGING …and it only gets worse when reader spills her guts about what she went through. omg ik he was sick.
another #thougjt i had was how this might mess up the reader for a bit after too #idk (that just might be me tho lmaoo) bc i feel like once you’ve been in that cycle of feeling depressed/insecure for so long it’s hard to snap out of, even with constant reassurance 😔
But maybe that’s just my angsty side talking HAHA
but i loved this fic, 11/10🫶
-🦅
omg yes, literally my favorite thing I've ever written. ik I wrote it, but it's the only thing of mine I reread bc it's like the perfect expression of how I feel, like if I could represent myself in one fic it would be that one if that makes any sense. it's like a concept that always haunts my mind no matter what I'm hyperfixating on maybe because I'm just like melancholy like that 🎀🎀🎀
but thank you so much, I'm literally so glad people are enjoying it because it literally is my own roman empire
yes she wants to be angry, she is angry, but refuses to let herself be because his issues are what she needs to prioritize. how can she be angry when he is constantly suffering? even if it's not so slowly tearing her apart, like a piece of paper sitting in water, she's trying to stay connected for the illusion of it all, to be strong for him.
her being loving isn't new to him, so he isn't thrown off by that, only slightly confused by her waking up earlier then usual. so her gifts have little bearing when he's used to it and he really doesn't want to feel loved right now because he's trying to reject whatever will make him seek comfort. when she starts changing her clothes and makeup, it's different, but he's not responsive because she's always been his pretty girl and always will be, her buying new clothes doesn't make him perceive her any differently or wonder if there's a reason, people try out new things.
when he notices how other peoples interactions with her have changed that's when he really starts to notice, if everyone else perceives her as melancholy then something has to be wrong. even if he's not quick to point the finger back to himself. he tries gifts, maybe she wouldn't buy something because she wanted him to do it, some sort of attention, but it's not big enough part of the issue to have any bearing on the effects it's now had on her. the girl rotting depression era shall we say. eventually through that, what people say to him, self-reflection he gains full consciousness of what he's been doing, how he's been hurting the person he loves so much. and the guilt is incomprehendable.
how could he be so selfish? so closed off as not to process all the clear cries for help? thinking about how he was getting annoyed, feeling like she was being moody when she insisted on doing the dishes until the dish broke. how she ran out into the ocean, in the rain without a care to regain some sense of composure, composure to try and make him happy. then the necklace thing, how could he miss her clearly trying just to be with him, be near him, have the interactions with him that he was giving to the girl at the shop instead? he was so unresponsive to the emotional needs he just assumed it to be a material need that he was willing to give. so when she rejects the money it just doesn't compute, to buy it she needs it, and then she tries to send the message that buying something isn't what she's asking for but he misses it completely. he gets snappy and it snaps her.
so when he's finally talking to her, he needs her to tell him the truth, the nuances because he's been so blind to all of it. he needs to know how he hurt her and it really is like a full wake up call. he can't let his own trauma consume him, allowing it to traumatize her in different ways. like when she mentions her getting to the point of just wanting him to want her body if he wouldn't want her because that's how people perceive him, that's what was hurting him, but he inadvertently made her feel that way. it breaks him to think that he did that to her, that he hurt his girl that way. then the idea that she would have let him cheat on her, she would've picked being with him over her own well-being, well she did, and he doesn't deserve that. he can't fathom how he could be with someone who loves him so blindly as to choose being with a ghost of him over not having him at all, when she deserves so much better. when he has been so callous with such a precious kind of love. or the fact that he even made it seem like he had interest in anyone but her.
there will be a fluffy, smutty requested sequel but readers issues afterwards will be lightly touched upon in it. but yes, she would have to spend so much time mending her relationship with herself afterwards. he's totally on hand and knee trying to make it up to her, to prove how much he loves and needs her, to give the attention she deserves. but she's still paranoid about cheating, insecure, scared, even if she tries to mask it. but he knows. he could, and does, spend hours praising her, telling her how pretty she is, how she's the only one, how sorry he is, how much he adores her, but it doesn't stop the nagging voice in the back of her head. she tries to hide it but she's clingier and he's okay with that, she needs him more.
but yes there's lots of long term effects the incident has on there relationship. and they have to try and navigate that together.
thank you pookie, I love your thoughts sm 💋💋💋💋💋💋
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