#speaking impulsively will somehow humiliate me

[willowedwisteria]

⁂~The Stars and Beyond~⁂

Summary -> Jumping into the lake before you would face Eula's strike, you were sucked into a portal and thrown into Mona's house.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

"Are you awake?" The echo of the Deity's voice swings you out of your slumber. It was as if their voice alone forced you awake, as if your body knew how rude and impulsive it was to ignore their words. You were starting to feel... loyal? Attached? Did they mess with your files or something?

Before you began to question them, the moon-shaped device they rested on floated closer to you whilst you still struggled to pick yourself up from the cold floor. You sat on the ocean, yet you didn't sink deep in it, something that was only possible because the Deity willed you to.

You felt in awe, the holy figure simply breathing before your eyes was so unbearably... pretty. Yet, every time you woke up from the spell automatically cast on you every time they speak, you feel humiliated... somehow.

Could you imagine it? This Deity is only using you to save their world from trouble because you happened to have an attachment to the characters? It sucks, and it feels like they're pulling every string in your body, controlling you like a puppet.

"You seem to be deep in thought," The Deity mentions, "No matter, you are currently asleep right now in the Favonius Headquarters, you must make haste and tell the Knights about suspicious activity going on in Dragonspine."

You pick yourself up somehow. Your body is still soaking wet, shivering uncontrollably. Your legs feel like jelly and you wrap your arms around your body, trying to avoid feeling so cold.

"So," You manage to spit out, "You're not going to explain anything to me before that?"

The Deity blinks at you, giving you an almost innocent look.

You slowly take a deep breath, maintaining a calm composure. "I don't even know what this "suspicious activity" in Dragonspine is about. How will I be able to answer them if they ask me for more details? What if they don't trust me? What if they think I'm insane? You haven't communicated with me at all, I don't even know how I got here."

The Deity isn't swayed by your words though.

They take a deep sigh, fingers gracefully fluttering across multiple screens, seemingly programming something. "I'll sacrifice someone of your choice to be your temporary partner if you want to see the "suspicious activity" for yourself.

About your other query, I'm practically taking your "soul" to my abode. Communication is easier this way."

Wow, what an honorable person. Sacrificing a person's life for this?

"I promised to protect you, and I will. Thus, going into Dragonspine would be more than just dangerous for someone like you - no matter how resilient you are."

You shook your head, "Nevermind. I'll do what you want, but I still need to go to Dragonspine to experience whatever you've been plotting so I know what's going on."

The Deity's eyebrows lift, eyes widen, and face twists into surprise. As if an imaginary lightbulb appeared above their head, it looks like they just had a revolutionary idea.

Placing a hand on their chin, they suddenly ask you a question, "How do you feel about being... sick?"

Weird question to ask.

"I guess, bad? No one likes being sick. I'm fine with it as long as I can recover?"

The Deity smiles, clasping their hands together in joy. Your eyebrows jerk up at how... mischievous, yet angelic their grin is. You scratch the back of your head, unsure of how that question correlates to your demands.

"Then, I have no need to worry. You may enter Dragonspine, alone or not." You squint your eyes, trying to make out if the Deity was playing tricks on your mind.

"You don't... care if I go alone? I mean, you were telling me about how I could get hurt and stuff-"

"No."

"What-"

"Do as you please. In fact, I'd prefer it if you went alone."

Okay, this is suspicious. Really, REALLY, suspicious. You practically glared at the Deity as they huffed in the corner. Were they acting like this out of spite? If so, that's surprisingly human of them.

"Do you promise that I'll be 100% safe?"

"I can assure you that you'll be alive, without any fatal injuries or permanent scars." The Deity turns their back to you, crossing their arms.

While that doesn't give you a direct answer, you suppose it was enough to push you into venturing toward that snowy mountain. Who knows? Maybe you'll see Albedo there!

You sit back down on the floor, looking down at the image of your reflection in the water. "Okay then, bring me back. I'll go to Dragonspine first."

In an instant, mist surrounds you as you finish your sentence. Not even bothering to turn to you, they continue on with whatever they were doing before. The only thing you got to see was the cape draped across their back as you blacked out once more.

⁂~~⁂

You jerk up from your sleep, the bed under you creaking violently. Wiping your sweat away with clammy hands, you get up from the bed.

"You're awake!" Mona barges into the room, "Just as I expected." A proud smirk plants itself across the girl's face.

"Are you feeling better?" You nod at Mona's inquiry. "That's good to hear. That deaconess of the Church was worried sick."

Ah, Barbara? So, she knows you're here. Perhaps you should go visit the church first before heading out to Dragonspine, just to thank them.

Mona clears her throat, quite loudly to catch your drifting attention back. "Allow me to introduce myself," A blue screen pops up next to Mona, "I'm Astrologist Mona Megistus, but you may just call me Mona."

You smile at her, glancing at the blue screen from the corner of your eye. It stated everything about Mona, just like in-game.

Realizing that you haven't introduced yourself yet, you scramble to speak, "Oh! Uh, I'm... (Name)." You laugh awkwardly. You wanted to make up a fake name, but Mona probably did a background check on you while you were sleeping.

"(Name)? Strange, but eccentric, I suppose. So, are you going to explain how you opened a portal and entered my home? Or what kind of situation you're in at least?"

You scratch your head, convinced that if you actually told her the truth, she would think you're crazy. "Okay, so...

I was being chased, and I saw a portal. Then I went inside and ended up in your place."

"What's with the insane amount of water that followed you through the portal?" Mona seemed suspicious of you.

"...Hydro slimes were chasing me, so it's natural that a lot of water entered the portal too!" You grinned, hoping for Mona to buy your act. "The slimes were those huge ones! It was kind of scary. I was just passing by too!"

Mona scowled. "I can tell that you're lying, but reading the gist of the situation is elementary to me, you seem to have your reasons." A deep sigh of relief escaped you, you pressed your hand against your beating heart.

You did want to know about what would happen to you in Dragonspine though since that Deity was acting pretty skeptical.

"Mona! Mona! Could you do me a favor?" Clapping your hands together, you approached her, "Please tell me my fate!"

"E-Ehhh?! You haven't even paid me yet!" You shuffle whatever mora you could grasp from your pockets into your hands, placing them into Mona's embrace.

"Fine! Fine! If you're so eager to, then that leaves me with no other choice." Placing the mora aside, she flips her hair before beginning her magic.

"Oh, so, you're like the Traveler. You're not from this world." You figured she'd find that out about you. "Now there are two people I can't see through, what a shame."

Before you could begin to despair, Mona gasps audibly, falling off of her feet.

"What...?"

"What is it?" You rush to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder as you peer deeper into the flurry of stars in front of her. Yep, all of the stars were as stunning as they were gibberish to you.

"I couldn't see much, but the stars were telling me the end of Mondstadt was near!"

Mona was pale with panic, squinting her eyes to try and pierce through the thick fog blocking her view. She covers her mouth, deep in thought so as to decipher what would be the best course of action.

You were strangely calm about the whole situation despite knowing that the end of a whole nation was close. That quest the Deity gave you is probably related to that. Though, once you thought more clearly about the idea, the image of people screaming and fires burning ablaze popped into your head. You began to panic internally as well.

"Wait... but why was I only able to see that when I looked deeper into your fate?" Mona summons her catalyst, and silence erupts between the both of you, "Are you going to be the cause of Monstadt's destruction?"

Every word you say wouldn't help you. You're sure her ability to read fate would penetrate any lies you try to deceive her with. It would be really great to have the Deity's help right now.

And just like that, a blue screen pops up again.

Relax, think about the opposite.

Oh! That's right! "Maybe... just maybe, I could also be the key to saving Mondstadt?" You forced the words out of you, hoping to gain the Astrologist's trust.

The catalyst lowers, "That is a possibility, I suppose."

You've saved yourself by the skin of your teeth!

"This Deity..." You whisper to yourself.

The catalyst next to Mona disappears, but her guard and mindfulness, while she's with you, don't waver. "What will you be doing next?"

"Uhh, going to Dragonspine?"

"So instead of escaping to another nation, you decide to run off into a dangerous, freezing mountain after hearing about the Mondstadt's destruction?"

"Uh, no! I mean... I guess?" You weren't sure how to answer, but you knew that there would be some kind of danger in Dragonspine. "It's just a gut feeling, but Mondstadt might be destroyed because of something in Dragonspine, so I'll be checking it out."

Mona laughs lightheartedly, "You're not even going to ask the adventurers or knights of Favonius to do it? You don't look like an experienced fighter to me."

You elbow her side softly, "Says the one who just learned about Mondstadt's demise and isn't scrambling off to warn everybody in town."

Mona smirks at your retort. "I'll be staying in Mondstadt, but I am worried for your safety. You should really ask some adventurers for help."

You nod, telling Mona that you'll think about her suggestion before picking up your things to leave.

Mona grabs your arm, "Also, get a weapon. You have no idea what dangers are out there."

Cheerily, you thank her before rushing off to prepare for a long journey to Dragonspine.

Taglist -> @under-a-starry-night, @yourfaveisblack, @bardisipatos, @callmemeelah, @kithewanderingme, @pale-value, @bamboowritess/@bamboowritess, @uchihaeirin, @karmawonders, @lunavixia, @anfre109, @ly-archives, @zuyoo, @pimacolada-lulu, @bimboing, @gallantys, @swaggyb0ke, @borbsbirbs, @shizunxie, @tiffthescales, @genshin-impacts-me, @keithsaccount, @mkaella, @mentallyunpresent, @alicehasdrowned, @franc-1-s, @no-regrets-just-confusion

#Wisteriawrites #genshin impact #genshin #genshin cult au #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #genshin self aware au #genshin impact cult au #cult au genshin impact #cult au genshin #cult au #sagau idea #sagau #genshin impact sagau

[aechii]

₍⁠₍ SPEAK NO EViL ₎⁠₎ ~ CH. 3

[ a kylian mbappe series ]

SYNOPSiS ! it's summer break, where, yes, academic freedom ensues, but for stellar, upcoming young football stars, an unmissable opportunity springs. bondy elite summer academy prepares its youth for the professional world, and inevitably, everybody is hungry to succeed. girl or boy. life isn't kind to 18 year old kylian mbappe, and being mute seems to be a limiting factor of his progress. but once he's accepted into the football camp, he's determined to prove that his football speaks for itself. yet, in the midst of fatal determination and apathetic competitiveness, he doesn't expect to grow intrigue for [y/n], a profound player in the camp's feminine unit, whose kindness and exquisite skill awakens a visceral feeling within kylian, showing him someone else that he could love in a world filled with hate.

PAiRiNG ! mute!kylian x fem!reader | fem!reader x oc!boyfriend

A/N !  chapter 3 everybody!! make some noise!!!!! this one is a little bit shorter than 1 & 2 and i blame the me that was planning the chapters. it's not very content heavy, but is rather more of a deep dive into the ropes of kylian and brice's friendship (think, mental commentary because i be thinking a lot, and kylian must do that also!). once again, bromance is bromancing, and someway somehow, i've spontaneously added a, rather unprovoked, 'one sided enemy-esque' plot, but dw, it dies just as quick as it takes its first breath. anyways this is getting long now. ENJOY 🤍

SERiES MASTERLiST ! here!

TAGLiST ! [ ask here , those in bold i couldn't tag] @sad1esgf @ts1mp0ne @fezlvr @ippid @kyksgirl @user6373738 @kenjekwownwjn @lalunaenamoradasworld @mywhimsyjournal @imagesthatlive @heli991113 @cinderellawithashoe @milfs4lifee

the condemnation kylian had faced just hours prior to the rise of the evening had him sinking in humiliation. although zion was present also, receiving the brunt of coach moreau’s harsh reprimand, it was undeniable that his malice was directed towards him specifically, and frankly speaking, kylian has had enough of hearing football ethics. he’s not stupid, nor disrespectful, no matter how much coach moreau makes it seem like he is by reminding him that the sport was to be ‘played as a team’. 

kylian can take constructive criticism. it’s woven between the foundation of his love for football, but what he cannot tolerate is expecting to take responsibility for a crime he did not commit. it’s a reality check, to be entirely honest. all he just can’t do is speak– rather, he can’t speak, and it’s the dimming aspect of his attributes. coach moreau had made it clear, even if it was disguised as a mutual warning for both him and zion, that he’s at a disadvantage here. lack of verbal communication is detrimental to a team, especially in one of such high calibre, and to prove that he’s worth the chance- the referral- his efforts have to exceed the others. 

he had prepared himself for this, but with someone already tugging at his nerves, he’s succumbing to his frustrations. 

“it’s been a day.”

brice and kylian made the impulsive decision to hang out in their room for dinner hour instead of in the canteen. the presence of the aforementioned aggressor seemed to anger brice more than kylian himself, and kylian needs to avoid any more confrontations for as long as he can. they had snuck in a meal of burger and chips- which did surprise them as bondy gave them the impression that strict diet rules are a given- and are wasting their time in front of the mounted television that plays a random match from an english league. they both don't care to know which one, though. 

“that’s quite the understatement,” kylian signs in response, fingers sticky with grease. the aftermath of the day’s events has him utterly emotionally displaced, and words have frozen in his brain. 

“zion’s fucking pissing me off, and it’s only the first day,” kylian adds. his hands goes for another chip, realises there’s none left, and deflates as he puddles into the sofa. brice takes a bite out of his burger before signing, “you have to learn to take your advice, you know.”

kylian looks at him dubiously, and brice speaks after he swallows, “how you retaliated earlier; you're just proving their point.”

"about what? it wasn't even my fault."

"but retrospectively, and in their close minded eyes, it is. and you just seem more incompetent to them the more you fight back."

his friend huffs and looks away. kylian knows that brice bears the truth, but everytime his mind rewinds and replays the words that hit like lightning bullets, his fists clench just like they had done earlier before he was stopped. his temper is short, can never endure more than two seconds of aggravation, and it sucks because the only way he can release it is physically. 

he fucking hates it, because his status quo has been thrown below everyone else's, and the more he attempts to climb, the lower his chances sink. the guilty is seen as innocent and vice versa, and sometimes he just wonders why his heart had chosen this godforsaken sport.

brice swims past his silence, and continues, “he irked you, yes, but remember what you told me coach moreau said. it insinuates something."

he knows that kylian would hate what he's about to say, but he'd rather his best friend be in the know, than lack thereof. he's read between the lines, yet kylian, still high on whatever hybrid of emotion broods inside him, hasn't.  

"from what i gather, bondy didn’t choose you because they wanted you, but because they see, somewhat, potential, and they’ll drop you in the blink of an eye if you don’t reach the level they want you to be at.”

that fucking hurt. 

“don’t look like that.”

“like what?”

“depressed,” brice walks over to the bin and dumps the empty styrofoam container in, “i’m pretty sure what i said applies to every kid here; and all i’m trying to tell you is that you need to try harder. fighting everybody, no matter how sick in the head they are, isn’t going to help you at all. and i know you’re better than that.”

he leaves it at that, striding back to his seat before flicking through channels to find something else to watch. settles on a game show that appears mildly interesting enough to be background noise for the time being. 

“he called me a freak, you know.”

it’s gratifying, hearing kylian’s voice after hours of not, radiating so much confusion and hurt. his sentence goes hand in hand with a disbelieving scoff, and if the other boy didn't know him that well, he'd think he was more vexed than pained. brice stares at him, bubbling with a myriad of unnameable feelings, yet still overrun by white hot fury.

“different and weird, maybe i can accept. but freak? i haven’t heard that since, what, 6th, 7th grade?”

“because you’re not. i swear- i’ll actually do a number on the guy.”

kylian shakes his head, “no, you won’t. remember what you said.”

“i do. but your chance here matters more than mine, and if the last thing i do here before being kicked out is defend you, then so be it.”

kylians face crumples, "your chance here matters just as much as mine."

"to you, yeah. but to me, i want you to succeed more. and i'll do everything in my power for that to happen, you just have to cooperate."

his words hit kylian hard, and the aftershock leaves numbing tingles everywhere. he shifts on the settee to face the tv more and for a moment, the program flashing bright light into subtly illuminated room seems more interesting.  

"why are you here then, if you don't care that much about your place?"

"i didn't say that i don't care, i'm just… prioritising yours," brice reiterates with a small smile. kylian doesn't like what he hears, and shakes his head. 

"why, brice? you don’t need to do all of that, you’re being stupid- irrational." he doesn’t mean to be harsh, but brice’s excuse nauseates kylian and his mind paints bright red question marks.

brice stares at him, it's not intense, but rather thoughtful. he looks away, "don't worry about it."

his sentence stands with determined finality, and kylian, too troubled by his friend's words, doesn't retort back. he thinks, and thinks, and reaches conclusions that he knows results from too much overthinking, but there’s nothing else that it can conjure. his inhibitions draw upon his face, and it causes brice to lean towards him, poking his temple.

“what ‘you pondering about?”

“nothing, nothing,” kylian replies. he puts on a fake grin, hoping that it’s enough to deceive his friend. brice looks sceptical, but lets it go with a submitting hum. they’re submerged into noiselessness once again; it’s wholly unlike them, by canon, every inch of space should be filled with obnoxious quarrels, but kylian places the blame on neither of them. for it’s tension, of one mistake unravelling everything, of fraying their friendship because of a sport that wasn’t when they were.

kylian despises dissimilarity, and so, brings up the one thing he had noticed earlier that would inject some humour into the sunken mood. 

“azali, right?”

kylian swears he witnesses brice get whiplash in live time with how rapid and vehement his head turns toward him, and it pushes a cackle out of him.

“it is her!”

brice doesn’t blush, his skin too melanated for it to be noticeable, but he evidently feels his cheeks heat up as he goes to touch them inquisitively. he’s startled by its unusual rise in temperature, pulling his training jacket over his face to hide himself from kylian, who still hasn’t stopped laughing at his antics.

“what are you hiding? your interest towards her? you could barely do that if i noticed,” kylian’s tone is inherently taunting, and brice chucks a pillow at his head.

“that doesn’t mean anything! you’re just… observant.”

kylian tuts as his eyebrow rises, “excuses.”

he couldn’t blame his friend’s untimely engrossment with the girl. she completely emanates quiet talent, barely speaking in the little time the boys and girls had been with each other, yet it is clear that she’s hyper aware of herself as a player. 

"you came here to get a referral, not get a girl," kylian chides, and brice shoots back, "and you came here to get a referral, not get into fights."

there's nothing kylian can say to that, for there's nothing untrue in brice's reply, and so he relents, "fair enough."

brice swivels in his seat, dumping a pillow in his lap, "you can't lie tho— she's pretty."

"well," kylian shrugs, "you're interested in her, and i'll feel awkward thinking the same way as you do."

brice purses his lips and says, "understandable," before smirking, "what about you? got your eye on anybody yet?"

kylian is rather half surprised that brice would think he has. he's never been the one to have crushes, maybe out of fear, or sheer commitment to football, and he's confused as to why brice would think he's now had a change of heart. 

"uh no?"

"really? there are some pretty girls in our faction," brice states as if it's a matter of fact. 

"and that's not my main focus," kylian shuts him down, glancing at the clock. their dinner break is 8 minutes from over and if they're to get to their parlour, which is all the way at north wing- before coach moreau, it's about time they leave. 

"we need to go," kylian says. brice checks the time for himself, and his jaw falls ajar, "already?"

kylian arises from his seat, "it really is only an hour-and-a-half long dinner." 

he goes into his room in search for his lanyard. looks on his bed, and its bedside table and underneath those, but it's absolutely nowhere. 

he immediately rushes out in a panic, interrogating his friend, "brice, have you seen my lanyard? i can't find it anywhere."

brice doesn't respond, and gives him a deadpanned look, "it's on your neck, kylian."

he glances downward and notices the gold ribbon dancing from his frantic movement. he tugs it sheepishly as if to check that it's really there, "oh."

"yeah, oh."

+_-

"-overall, we're highly impressed by the level of skill we've seen today. you all show that you can get to the top, but it's a matter of which 6 will excel and reach there first.”

coach moreau has gathered all 20 of them in the elite parlour, for a, what he calls, ‘end of day reflection’. side by side, both him and coach lambert stand before the group, arms crossed. they survey the teenage prospects, see the determination etched on every one of them, and conclude that this year's cohort is probably the most promising they've ever seen. 

coach lambert continues, "tomorrow is another day of training. don't expect anything, from now onwards, to be as easy as it was today because you're all here to push yourselves, am i clear?"

sounds and nods of affirmatives follow, and both coaches smile. moreau claps twice, untangling his arms, "alright, you all can relax now. curfew is at 9pm sharp, and i do not expect anyone to still be in any of the rooms when i come to check, yes?"

a collective 'yes coach' comes from the teens, and he gives them the all clear to disperse. brice leans into kylian, "i saw a table football in one of the leisure rooms, let's go there?"

his friend shrugs and nods, "yeah why not? i'll beat you, though." his signs are still mildly discreet and wary. 

"you'll beat me? over my dead body."

they walk into the room, it's quite large, corners dotted with settees of all sizes (and, by proxy, dark blue) and it's occupied with everything: from air hockey to table tennis, with an unexpected, basketball hoop game. it's rather an arcade, is what flows through kylian's mind. 

"you ready?" kylian smirks as he stands on one side with brice on the other. 

brice rolls his eyes and starts turning the metal bar, "get on with it kylian."

the first two rounds are completely chaotic as kylian, habitually, accuses brice of cheating, demanding head starts which don't end up proving to be useful. 

"i'm just going easy on you," kylian sulks. brice looks at him questioningly, "i thought you just said i was cheating?"

within the few seconds kylian loses concentration, the ball slides into brice's possession, and he quickly takes advantage of the opportunity, shooting the plastic sphere into the goal. 

"3-0!" brice exuberates as kylian huffs, dejected. 

"i'll get you back- character redemption arc," kylian strikes back, but brice just snickers. 

"yeah, right."

before another game could start, three girls walk over to them one of which both boys could recognise from her distinctive hairstyle and brice's every-living interest. his face palpably brightens with a smile kylian has never seen on his face before, and its makes him internally scoff. 

another of the girls, who kylian distastefully recognises as zion's girlfriend, steps forward, albeit rather hesitantly. he barely has an impression of her, yet rules her discriminatory by association, and has told brice his thoughts, too. it's senseless, he knows, but with an asshole as big as her boyfriend, it's hard to believe they're not akin in mentality. 

"sorry if it's a bother, but can we play with you?"

kylian so badly wants to say no out of spite. god knows what she's truly thinking, and he'd rather steer clear of her radar. but brice, the puppy lover he is, beat him to it. 

"yes, of course!" he rushes to the side to give the girls space. 

zion's girlfriend (he doesn't care to remember her name) smiles at the both of them, then signs, "sorry."

kylian and brice look at each other confused, but kylian is the first to realise her actual intention and grins. 

"thank you,"he corrects, putting the tips of his fingers on his mouth then pushing his hand outwards. 

"oh!" the girl smiles apologetically, flustered, "i'm sorry, i hope i didn't offend you or anything." 

"no, no, you're good." kylian takes it as she understands when her eyes relax from their furrow. 

"i'm still learning, you see," the girl adds

brice is bewildered. it's not often they come across someone their age willing to learn sign language.

"you are?"

"yeah!" she moves to stand where kylian had prior, "i've always wanted to, but only started a few weeks ago."

brice shoots his friend a knowing look, one that says, 'see?' and kylian fights back a smile. brice smugly signs, "she's not as bad as you thought, huh?"

kylian flips him off, "shut up."

and if brice notices how kylian's gestures suddenly begin to fill with their usual gusto, he doesn't say a thing. 

#work de aechii 🫧 #speak no evil.km 🙊 #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe romance #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe drabbles #kylian mbappe headcanons #football imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #kylian fanfic #kylian x you #kylian mbappe oneshots #mbappe x reader

[lodessa]

Doing a little season 3 rewatch of Veronica Mars to make sure things line up right in The Backup and oh boy . . .

So many of my lingering complaints immediately resurfaced there's also stuff I had forgotten about (and even some stuff that rewatching is like "oh, they were actually doing a thing") but here's a couple thoughts four episodes in:

The cast is still too jam packed, the years haven't changed my opinion on that, and it makes so many things seem forced or spread thin.

Some of this is things like spending all this time of Dick but (after an initial episode where it seemed like maybe he was going to have some actual character arc following what happened in season 2) just having him be the same old Dick. Some of it is trying so hard to make Piz matter or whatever. Some of it is no one's plotlines actually truly entertwining.

And you can definitely see the fanservicing rounding off of Logan's character happening, but hot damn I forgot I missed him. Like Rose Tyler of Doctor Who, the fannish monomania over the years has made me reflexively flinch from his very name but Logan is so damned compelling. He's so wounded and self loathing, messy, but also somehow still so tender. A victim of so much loss and abuse and he does fucked up shit and Veronica is right not to trust him sometimes, but he's also just such a damned woobie (I have not used that term in so long I almost forgot it) in the way that is so addictive (and destructive because the impulse is always ultimately to lose all the things that actually make that vulnerability interesting in the interests of saccharine perfection.

My boy, Weevil. I weep. I scream. I tear my hair. I dream of Mars, Mars, & Navarro Investigations. He's flawed and he's angry and he makes mistakes, but Eli Navarro is also so smart, dogged, insightful. He hates injustice, drugs, and abuse. He's crazy hyper competent. want someone to figure out the truth, fix the body of your car, get the AC working? He can do any of that with a facility you didn't ask for or expect. (Maybe don't have him take your phone calls though, at least not without some actual training.) And what does he really want? A chance. The opportunity to do something that matters. Someone to look at him and see something of value (because he sure doesn't right now).

Which really should have been the through line of this season and these characters. Logan is terrified of being his dad, of actually trying and failing at college, of being alone. Weevil is trying to keep his head down and get by, but it is humiliating and awful and he wants so much to prove he is more than that. Like both of them, Mac is afraid she's broken, that she can't move past what happened with Cassidy, that she doesn't know how to be close to anyone. Dick should be confronting the fact that what happened with his brother and dad did shake him and he's not impervious. Wallace's half assed plot line about struggling to maintain both school and basketball could have been so much more about the transition from high school and college and worrying that you aren't actually special or good enough. Even Keith is doubting his judgement, as a professional and as a father to a certain extent. And Veronica, Veronica is afraid that she can't move on: can't trust, can't hold on to friendships, can't move past her high school relationship. But I know that the show doesn't actually go there with any of these plotlines, so to speak. It doesn't have time to, nor does it want to.

#veronica mars #lodessa rewatches vm

[jaguarys]

Somehow, Maul has made a miscalculation.

The Jedi had left before he got there. He believes they left overnight. It had been entirely against everything he’d expected, and he bristles with the indignity of it all. He’s angry at himself, more than anyone else, because he should have expected it, and it’s a stupid, terrible mistake to have made.

He’s distracted from this series of thoughts and the crushing, humiliating feeling that his master will be horribly displeased by the realization that there’s a figure making its way through the sand.

After a few moments, Maul decides they are indeed heading toward him. They’re small, perhaps a child. He sits back on his speeder, waiting.

Something in him bristles at this stranger. He can’t exactly parse what it is, but there’s something… something in their Force signature.

He shakes it off. It doesn’t matter.

It is indeed a human child. He’s not well acquainted with human ages, but he knows they can’t yet be even a teenager. He raises his chin as they stop in front of him, hand up to block their eyes from the suns. He waits for them to speak.

They don’t. They seem to be examining him, tilting their head almost imperceptibly, and he bristles again. Something in their expression has him second-guessing his initial estimation of their age. They certainly don’t seem like a child.

He is not known for his patience.

“Spit it out,” he hisses.

“Well met, Maul.” The human’s voice is pitched low, and Maul has to strain to hear them over the desert winds.

“What is your business?” Maul growls. He’s realized what it is that unsettles him. It’s carefully hidden, carefully and masterfully concealed in a way this little, pathetic thing should find impossible, but the Force screams around them. It’s painful, almost, cutting into his skin like the many small marks of a sandstorm. And yet, they seem at peace, or something resembling it.

No, he realizes. It’s not peace. It’s determination. It makes Maul’s skin crawl. He feels small. He feels like prey.

He has never been afraid of anyone but his master. That will not change.

The human tilts their head, seemingly appraising him.

“I would send a message,” they say, and this time something creeps into their carefully neutral voice. A note of something more.

“I am not a messenger,” Maul responds evenly.

They smile, slowly, a little thing that sends every prey instinct in him wanting to scurry. He shakes it off.

“Tell your master something for me,” they say, spitting the word ‘master’ like it’s a curse.

Maul has to resist the urge to react, but he just barely manages to conceal his surprise and discomfort. Who is this child? He bares his teeth. “And what would you say?”

The child’s eyes glitter. They lean closer. “Tell him he will die. And tell him I will kill him.”

His first urge is to laugh at the absurdity. His second is to shiver, even in the heat of the desert, for the mere idea of his master dying is so scandalous it borders on blasphemy.

His third is to realize that this tiny thing truly believes it will kill Darth Sidious. He’s not sure what to make of that. Of any of this.

“Who is this message from?” He asks after a few moments, and he pretends his throat is not dry.

“Another student.”

Maul has never had the luxury of pretending he is at all… special to his master. He’s never had any illusions that he’s anything more than another piece to the puzzle.

But old habits die hard, and even if he will never admit it, it stings. People like him don’t get to decide they’re anything more than a particularly interesting pawn, and yet… yet he wants to, more than anything.

It simply stings, a little.

“I see,” he grounds out between clenched teeth.

The child nods, once, decidedly, and turns to leave. They’re a few steps away when they turn to speak again.

“I know more than anyone, perhaps, the cruelty of our master. Keep that in mind.”

Maul’s first reaction is simply to scream, You do not know!

He pushes down this impulse. It’s stupid, needless, immature and yet his very skin crawls at the mere thought, at the suggestion his suffering, his pain, is discredited.

And he swallows his pride, swallows his barbs, his immaturity, and realizes what this child means.

It’s an olive branch. It’s a kindness.

He says nothing, and the child leaves.

So does he.

>>>

This is the third chapter of my fic It's Quicker and Easier to Eat Your Young, which is on my AO3 (linked in my description)! Please check it out!

#personal #star wars #anakin skywalker #darth vader #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 update #archive of our own #fanfics #ao3feed #ao3fic #ao3 #darth maul #maul opress #maul star wars #star wars maul #vader #the phantom menace #tpm #fandom: star wars #type: fanfic

[otaku553]

._.

#I’ll just ramble in the tags ig #LMAO IM SORRY IF I COME ACROSS AS ROBOTIC #That’s just how all my interactions go #some sort of mental block that makes me feel like #speaking impulsively will somehow humiliate me #or speaking at all will #but I don’t talk much anyways #so this is kind of practicing for talking to people #so thanks to the people who commented on that post :)

[thetravelerwrites]

Birch (Centaur)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Human/Male Centaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Reader Insert Content Warnings: Communication Disorder, Social Communication Disorder, Anxiety, Autism, Autistic Reader, Semi-Verbal Autism, Semi-Verbal Reader, Overbearing Mother, Verbal Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Ableism Series: Shelter Forest Words: 4758

Commissioned by an anonymous party, Birch finally gets his own story! The reader, who has a communication disorder, meets and somehow befriends a beautiful centaur named Birch, who lives in the woods with his family and is known throughout the town as being a bit of a playboy and a flirt. When he realizes how poorly the reader is treated by her mother, he immediately tries to rescue her. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You first saw him when you were thirteen year old. You and your mother came to Coleville to beg for work after your father had kicked you both out of the house for another woman. You and your mother worked in the laundry and kitchen of the town’s most popular tavern, washing bed sheets and tableware, so you hadn’t really had the chance to meet him when he came into town to trade. You were only ever able to watch him from a distance

He was massive, friendly, and beautiful. His horse body was the size and color of a buckskin Andalusian, with a pale tan body fur and black socks. His skin was suntanned from working in the fields of his home farm and he always wore a simply-made tunic. His hair was short and black, and his tail was long and black, but his eyes were a bright, clear blue. He smiled easily and seemed to get along with everyone. You fell in love with him as soon as you laid eyes on him.

Well, no, you knew even then that it wasn’t love, it was just fascination and infatuation, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were overjoyed every time you saw him. Not that he’d ever notice you. You were just a plain, poor, chubby laundress with red, chapped hands and a future of working in a tavern for the rest of your life. Why would he even glance at you?

You wouldn’t be able to speak to him, even if he did. You were terribly shy and timid. You’d always been that way and couldn’t help it. Talking to people, looking them in the eye, facing confrontation, it all made you terrified and shaky. You barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t your parents, although you really didn’t speak to them that much, either. You were sure the most used word in your vocabulary was sorry.

When you were younger, your parents had hoped you’d grow out of it, but you never did. Once you hit puberty and was still unable to speak, your mother began to despair of you, pushing you to talk and berating you when you couldn’t, which only made you withdraw more. You couldn’t blame her for being exasperated with you; you were just as frustrated with yourself as she was. She never said it, but you knew she blamed you for your father rejecting you both.

Even though Birch usually came alone, you were sure he must already be married or have a lover, though he was openly flirtatious. You knew he’d had a few girls in town on occasion, having overheard them bragging about their nights with him, though they all seemed to be one-night trysts or affairs that didn’t last long. Perhaps he wasn’t even interested in settling down with anyone and was the playboy type. He was gorgeous enough for it.

Once or twice, he came to town with his family members or to visit family members who had settled here, like his brother Cetzu, the lizardfolk man running the orphanage with his wife. They were all a strange lot: some were human, most were not. You only ever saw one other centaur, and he looked nothing like Birch; he was a younger, smaller piebald named Yew with black skin, white hair, and pale eyes. You’d heard rumors that there was a mixed family in the woods, living on a farm, and that they were all sorts, but it didn’t really seem real to you until you saw them all together.

He’d come to town one day to buy seeds and supplies and came into the tavern for a drink. For centaurs, alcohol was basically food to them, so they drank heavily and often. A lot of centaurs you’d known got pretty rowdy, but Birch was always mindful. He held his ale well and knew when to stop before getting fully inebriated, careful not to make an ass of himself. He was considerate. You liked that about him.

You were working in the kitchens at the time when he arrived, and he sat at one of the tables designed for four-legged folk. It was a long table with no chairs or benches, but flat cushions instead. He folded his legs under him and flagged the waitress, smiling his dazzling smile, and ordered ale and some roasted vegetables. You were neglecting your work, but even if it was just a few seconds, you wanted to commit his image to memory as often as you could.

“Oi!” The waitress, Cathy, hissed as she came toward the door of the kitchen to put in Birch’s order. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” You said, barely audibly.

“Go take him his ale,” She said. “We’re understaffed. If you’re going to be in the way, the least you can do is be useful.”

“I…!" You protested, but she pushed past you into the kitchen to yell at the cook. With you heart in your throat, you rushed to fill a clean tankard and skittered it over, setting it down on the table in front of him without looking at him.

“Ah, that was fast,” Birch said, his voice deep, rich, and wonderful to the ear. “You’re a lovely little thing. Are you new, sweet pea? I haven’t seen you in the tavern before.”

You looked down at the ground and didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to stay and try to be friendly, or retreat back to the kitchen, so you were frozen there with indecision, looking at the floor.

“Hey now, don’t be shy, love. I don’t bite,” He said, you assumed in an attempt to be flirty, reaching for your hand. You snatched your hand away impulsively and ran back to the kitchen.

Your heart was racing and your mind reeling. Why did I do that? You thought, covering your face with your hands. He probably thinks I’m crazy or a complete shrew! I should never leave the back rooms again and just stick to washing dishes.

After a few moments, though, your mother pulled you away from washing by the arm.

“What did you do?” She asked angrily. “One of the customers is asking for you!”

You panicked. “I… I just… I brought him his drink…” You whispered in terror.

“Come on,” She gripped your arm and pulled you back out into the tavern common room, where Birch was still sitting. He looked at you with a frown. Oh god, he looks annoyed, you thought nervously.

“Miss,” He said, and you stared at your feet, unable to look up. “I think I may have frightened or upset you. I’m sorry, I sometimes forget that not everyone is receptive to my personality or sense of humor.”

You were completely unable to speak and kept your head down, your shoulders hunched.

“Say something!” Your mother hissed at you, and you could only shrink into yourself further. “I’m sorry, sir,” Your mother said in exasperation. “My daughter is as timid as a field mouse. She can’t speak to other people and she never looks people in the eye. She can barely even speak to me. She’s always been like this.”

“Oh,” He said, sounding concerned. “Is she unwell?”

“Probably,” Your mother replied in annoyance, and you pulled away even further. “Though the doctors can’t tell us what’s wrong with her. She usually stays in the kitchen and laundry away from the customers. I don’t know what possessed her to come out here and bother you.”

“C… Ca…” You stuttered, struggling to speak in your defense, looking back toward the kitchen, where Cathy was hovering by the door.

“Oh, did Cathy ask you to bring me my drink?” He asked kindly.

You nodded fervently.

“I understand. I’m sorry that she put you in an uncomfortable situation, and I apologize for making it worse.”

Your mother sighed wearily. “Sir, don’t apologize to her. It’s not your fault that she can’t function like a normal adult.”

That hurt. You were on the verge of tears and hugged your arms around yourself, desperately wanting to escape back to the kitchen.

“Even so,” He said, his voice cold, but softened when he addressed you. “I’m very sorry, miss.”

You nodded once and shuffled quickly back to the kitchen, unable to keep the tears from falling. Your mother rejoined you a few minutes later.

“You could have at least apologized to him,” He said, taking the plates as you washed them to rinse them off and put them in the rack. “Why do you have to embarrass me like that? How hard is it to say ‘thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry’?” She sighed sharply and wiped her hands. “Don’t you dare get us fired.” And she walked off, leaving you weeping into the dishwater.

Cathy heard the entire thing and came over sheepishly.

“Hey… I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your ma,” She said. “I forgot about the speaking thing. I was just in a rush and I didn’t think.”

You shook your head. Cathy was the one person who you might call a friend. She was a little brusque and had a short fuse, but she was one of the few who didn’t make fun of your stuttering and silence or look down their nose at you.

“Listen, Birch is a really nice guy. He plays around and has his fun with the girls, but he’s never hurt anyone on purpose. He wasn’t trying to make fun of you or make you feel bad.”

You nodded shortly. You knew that. He was being friendly; that’s just how he talked to people. But being humiliated in front of him was a torture unlike anything you’d felt before, and it hurt.

The next day, you were feeding the chickens in the coop outside of the tavern when you looked up and saw him exiting the tavern. He noticed you right away, and you turned immediately and tried to flee.

“Hey, wait!” He called. “Wait, please!”

You stood with your back to him but you stayed put. You heard him trotting up to you, his hoof-beats heavy.

“Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize again,” He said. “To just you this time. I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, but what she said… that was uncalled for. You didn’t deserve that.”

You turned to face him but you didn’t look up, focusing instead on his large hooves. You shook your head. No, he was wrong. You did deserve it.

“You can’t help how you are,” He said. “It’s not your fault. I have a little brother who has trouble talking to people, too. It’s the exact opposite of your problem; he says exactly what’s on his mind with no filter. He can’t control it and it embarrasses him sometimes. It’s not the same, I know, but I understand that it can be hard.”

He was so nice. You were able to lift your head a little, but you still couldn’t look him in the face.

“My name is Birch,” He said. “What’s yours?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, so you shut it again.

“Hmm,” He hummed. “Can you write?”

You shook your head.

“Um… sign language?”

You answered no again.

“I see,” He said, sighing. “I… I’ll be honest… I don’t want to leave you here with that mother of yours. I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have with her, but the way she talks to you…” He pawed the ground in annoyance. “It bothers me. Does she do that a lot? Make fun of you in front of other people?”

You shrugged, embarrassed.

He sidestepped in an anxious way and swished his tail. “I have to go back home later today,” He said. “Are… are you going to be okay?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“Well… alright,” He said. “Look, um… if you ever need to… you know… leave this place, talk to Cathy. She knows where my family’s farm is. She can help you get there. If you need to.”

You nodded again, and he turned to leave, but an unfamiliar impulse compelled you to rush forward and take hold of the hem of his tunic. He stopped and looked at you, though he could only see the top of your head.

“Th…” You gulped, your throat dry, your heart beating in your throat. “Tha… ank…you…” You managed to choke out. “H… Haz…zel…”

“You’re name is Hazel?” He asked, a smile in his voice.

You nodded emphatically.

You felt him put a hand on top of your head and and sort of rubbed his fingers against your scalp. It felt nice, even though you weren’t used to physical touch. Your mother wasn’t exactly the affectionate sort.

“You take care, okay?” He said, taking his hand back. “I’ll be back in a few days. I look forward to seeing you again.”

That evening, you were in the room you shared with your mother as she brushed her hair for bed when she mentioned nonchalantly, “I saw you with that centaur man today. What did he say to you?”

“...he… nothing…” You said vaguely.

“Then why did he touch you? And why were you touching him?” She asked, her voice flat.

“I…” You gulped. “I… don’t know…” You said truthfully.

“Oh, really? You don’t know? You don’t know why a man like him would touch you? You know his reputation in this town. He’s trying to take advantage of you because you're simple.”

“He was… just… being nice…” You said softly.

Your mother snorted. “Men aren’t nice without a reason. I thought you’d know that by now.” She threw down her hairbrush onto the night table and lay down in your shared bed. “You’re not going to have anything to do with him from now on, do you understand? It shouldn’t be difficult for you to manage that, should it?”

You didn’t say anything, just sat at the table and stared into the fire.

“It’s for your own good,” She said, facing away from you. “I know I’m strict with you, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You have no problem with me getting hurt when you’re the one doing it, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t say it. You knew she was right, though. He was a flirt and a bit of a libertine, and you thought that perhaps he was only being nice to you because he saw you as low hanging fruit. It hurt to think of him that way, but it was the only thing that made sense.

He did return in a few days, an older woman riding on his back. She was lovely, even at her age, and was wearing trousers and a practical shirt, but no bodice or ladies coat. Her brown hair was caught back in a tight braid, a few strands of grey weaved in and out.

You saw them arrive from the window of your room as you were getting ready for the day. He was as handsome as always, and you watched him wistfully. As if he could sense you, he looked up and saw you at the window. He smiled at you and waved. Remembering what your mother said, you were unable to smile back and walked away from the window without acknowledging him. You hoped he wouldn’t be too angry at you.

Before you could start work in the laundry, Cathy called you out.

“Birch and his mother are here,” She said, keeping her voice down so that your mother wouldn’t hear. “They want to see you.”

“I cant…” You said in your normal whisper. “Mama will be angry…”

“Don’t worry about your ma right now,” Cathy said dismissively. “You don’t deserve the shit she gives you, you’re just too shy to tell her off. Just go see what they want. Maybe it’s a chance to get out from under her thumb.”

You had to admit, you did wish for that. You loved your mother, and she loved you in her own way, but you knew she resented you and it was just… exhausting, dealing with her reproachfulness and cutting words every day. You were just too scared to leave on your own.

You thought long and hard about it, looking around to see if your mother was anywhere near. When you didn’t see her, you looked up at Cathy, looking just past her behind her ear instead of at her face, and nodded. She took you by the hand and led you out to the dining area. Birch and his mother were sitting at the four-legged table, with his mother having dragged over a chair to sit with him comfortably.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Birch said. “When you didn’t react this morning, I was worried something had happened. Mama, this is the young woman I was telling you about.”

He told his mother about you? Why?

“I see, I see,” The older woman said. “My name is Ryel, I’m Birch’s mother. Your name is Hazel, right?”

You nodded, unable to look up.

“Goodness, you are rather shy, aren’t you, dear?” She said sympathetically. You chewed your lip, unable to respond. “My son tells me you’re illiterate, is that correct?”

You nodded.

“I imagine that makes communicating with other people very difficult,” She said.

You nodded again.

“So, how about this?” She said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you come to the farm with me for the summer? I’ll teach you how to read and write, and in exchange, you help me out around the farm. How does that sound?”

For the first time in your life, you were surprised into looking someone in the face. She was smiling warmly at you

“I’m getting older and I could use an assistant. My children all have their own work and families to look after and I’d feel as if I were taking advantage of them if I expected them to follow me around and help me all day.”

“Mama, you know we’d do it happily,” Birch said.

“I know that,” She said, hushing him. “Even still, I’d prefer to hire someone for the task, and if I can help them at the same time, why shouldn’t I?” She leaned forward. “What do you say, dear?”

This is exactly what you wanted. A job that was away from your mom. This was your chance. You opened your mouth, as if to answer, when you heard a sharp voice behind you.

“Hazel!” Your mother said, irate, and stalked out of the kitchen toward you, grabbing you by the arm. “Stop bothering these people! Get back to the laundry.”

Birch’s back leg kicked slightly in irritation, thumping the wood of the floor, but Ryel kept her composure.

“She’s not bothering us in the least, madam,” She said calmly. “I’ve actually come here to offer her a job.”

Your mother scoffed. “A job? Doing what?”

“As my assistant,” Ryel said. “I’m a jack of all trades type, you might say, and I’m willing to take her on in exchange for room and board, plus an education.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Your mother said, her grip rather strong on your arm. “My daughter is not capable of making her own decisions.”

“How old is your daughter?” Ryel asked.

“She’s nineteen,” Your mother replied. “But I’m afraid she’s a bit slow. Trying to teach her wouldn’t benefit either of you.”

You frowned, upset. That wasn’t true, you weren’t slow. In fact, you thought you learned rather quickly, you’d just hadn’t had the chance to learn very many new things.

“Be that as it may,” Ryel replied, her voice still even. “Your daughter is an adult and has the right to choose what she wants.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said. “Besides, even if I allowed this, I don’t want her anywhere near him.” She jerked her chin toward Birch.

Birch bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know what kind of man you are,” She hissed. “How many lovers you’ve had in just this town alone? How many broken hearts have you left in your wake? I know you have ulterior motives for wanting to take her from here, and I won’t stand for it. She’s simpleminded and vulnerable, and I won’t let you dishonor her and return her to me used and broken.”

“Stop talking like she can’t hear every vile thing you say about her!” Birch shouted, slamming his fist into the table, making you jump. “I would never do something so shameful! You don’t know anything about me! ”

“Son, calm down,” Ryel said, putting her hand on his. “My son is a grown man of twenty-eight and has desires, true, but I’ve been to this town quite often and I haven’t found any such string of broken hearts, as you call it. Many sighing and wistful girls who long for his company, sure, but not one of them has come to me with tears in her eyes claiming he lied or misled her. He’s open and forthright about his intentions, and I respect his decisions. You should do the same for your child.”

“Don’t talk to me about my child if you can’t even control your own,” Your mother said venomously. “Hazel, let’s go.”

She tried to lead you away, but you refused to move. There were hurt and anxious tears in your eyes and you couldn’t look at anyone, but you refused to let her pull you away.

“Hazel!” She gripped your arm and yanked you painfully, and you wrenched your arm from her grasp, shaking your head.

“It seems like she’s made her choice,” Ryel said. “The least you can do as her mother is respect her wishes.”

“Be quiet!” Your mother said. “Leave us alone!” She grabbed your hands and started to pull you back to the kitchen. Birch got to his feet.

“Let her go,” He said, his voice a low growl, knocking her hands away from you. He stood between you and your mother. You dared to reach out and place a hand on the fur of his back to steady yourself.

“What’s going on here?” The bartender, Brian, asked. He also owned the tavern and knew about your condition. He didn’t speak to you much, but he also didn’t tease you either. You could handle understanding silence a lot better than persistent expectation to interact. “Are you alright, Hazel?”

You were shaking and crying, so you could only shake your head.

“These people won’t leave us alone,” You mother said. “I’d like them to leave.”

“Now, Rita, these people are good customers and friends of mine. I’m going to need more of a reason than ‘they’re bothering me’ to kick them out.”

“We simply offered young Hazel here a job on the farm,” Ryel said patiently. “I’m afraid her mother is interfering with her decision.”

“Is that true, Hazel?” Brian asked. “Would you like to take up this job?”

Trembling, you nodded.

“Well, then, that settles it, doesn’t it?” Brian said. “These are good folks, Hazel, they’ll take care of you.”

“Like hell they will,” You mother retorted. “She can’t make decisions like this. She doesn't understand.”

Brian sighed. “Rita, your girl’s not stupid, and it’s high time you stopped treating her like she is.”

Your mother looked like she’d been slapped in the face. You looked up at Brian in shock. He smiled kindly at you.

“Why don’t you go up and pack your things while your mother and I have a little chat, eh, dear?” He said.

You attempted to smile at him, though you worried it looked a little like you had indigestion, and went to pack. You took a few minutes to sit on the bed and breathe, clutching your chest, feeling a panic attack poking at your brain. You couldn’t believe it. You were really leaving.

There was a knock on your door and Ryel poked her head in.

“Are you alright, dear? That was quite the fuss,” She said.

You dried your face and nodded, getting up to start putting clothes in a bag.

“I sent Birch outside. He was getting rather angry, and I didn’t want him smashing any of Brian’s furniture.”

You looked out the window. Birch was standing in the courtyard with his arms crossed, stamping the ground and stepping constantly, as if he couldn’t stand still. His brow was furrowed, his jaw was working, and his tail was swishing back and forth without stopping.

“He’s worried for you, dear,” She said, following your gaze. “One thing our entire family has in common is that we don’t like seeing people mistreated. You’re mother may have her reasons for acting as she does, and perhaps it is out of some misplaced notion of love, but there’s no doubt in my mind at all that she mistreats you. You can’t help the way you are, and no amount of her cruel words are going to fix that. In fact, I’m more than certain it makes it worse.”

You sighed sadly in agreement. As you stood there, Birch looked up at your window. He smiled, a little sadder than before, and waved up at you. This time, you raised a hand and waved back.

The door opened and your mother walked in, glaring at Ryel.

“I’d like to speak to my daughter alone, if you please,” She said, her voice low and hostile.

Ryel looked at you questioningly, and you nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” She said, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Your mother just stared at you with her arms crossed, shaking her head slightly. You looked down and away.

“I guess I should just be glad you won’t be around to humiliate me anymore,” She said, and you shrunk in on yourself. “I don’t like this at all, but it seems I have no say in the matter. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

You knew she was hurt and was lashing out. She wasn’t exactly sweet and caring on her best days, but she could really cut a person to the quick when she was upset.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” She asked you, and you could hear tears in her voice. “Nothing at all? You can’t muster the courage to apologize to me for that display downstairs? For leaving me without a thought to my feelings? I’ve spent the last seven years protecting you and providing for you after your useless father threw us out, and you do this to me? And you have nothing to say?”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to her and put your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, Mama,” You said softly.

She started to sob and put her arms around your shoulders. It had been years since she’d last hugged you.

“You’d better start sending me letters as soon as you learn how to,” She said, her voice breaking. “If I don’t hear something from you in a few months, I’m going out there to drag you back, you understand me?”

“Yes, Mama,” You whispered, and took a step back. Picking up your bag, you opened the door and walked out. Ryel was waiting and smiled when she saw you.

“Ready?” She asked.

You nodded.

Back outside, Birch was waiting. He stopped shifting around anxiously when he saw you and his mother exit the tavern.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Everything’s just fine,” Ryel said. “We’re ready to go.”

“Would you like to ride on my back?” Birch asked, turning.

You shook your head fervently, mortified.

“Are you sure?” He said. “It’s a long walk back to the farm, over four hours. I can get us there in half the time.”

“She’s feeling shy,” Ryel said. “For centaurs, letting people ride on their back is a special privilege afforded to few. I’ll ride with you.” She grinned at him. “He always makes an exception for his mother.”

He grinned at her in return. “You just assume I do.” But he took out a quilted riding blanket that was rolled up and tied to the bottom of his pack and handed it to her, and she set it on his back. Climbing the steps to the tavern, she vaulted onto his back. She instructed you to do the same. Blushing furiously, with both Ryel and Birch’s help, you were able to scramble on in front of her.

“Let’s go,” He said, and he took off at a trot out of town.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Centaur #Autistic Character #Reader Insert #Semi-Verbal Reader

[the-widow-sisters]

Shamelessly

Summary: When Yelena begs Natasha to let her go to one of the cool kids meetings, she quickly realizes she made a huge mistake. She is bored out of her mind. Luckily, Natasha keeps her distracted with her gentle affection, but that quickly becomes quite embarrassing given their company.

Word Count: 2243

  “And that’s why we need to initiate this protocol. We have to try to improve our—”

  It was quickly becoming clear to Yelena that she never wanted to go to anything called a collaborative conference ever again. And if she ever forgot that lesson and wanted to go again, then she would specifically hire someone to slap her in the face and shake her out of her episode of insanity.

  Steve Rogers was a really nice guy, albeit a goody-two shoes, but he definitely could not hold the attention of any audience whatsoever. He was one of the most boring speakers that Yelena had ever heard, but she had to at least pretend that she was paying a little bit of attention to him, despite the fact that she did not care about anything he was saying at all.

  The only reason she was here was after begging Natasha to let her come so she could earn more favor from the group and hopefully more greatly secure her place with them and get them to officially initiate her on the team.

  Natasha was sitting next to her at the moment, her eyes on Steve. To most people, she was attentively hanging on his every word. However, Yelena could easily see that her sister was somewhat unfocused since it seemed that she was more just looking through him than at him. It was clear to Yelena that Natasha was as bored as her.

  So Yelena did what any self-respecting younger sister would do. She very surreptitiously pinched Natasha’s leg under the table in an attempt to simultaneously aggravate Natasha and get her attention. The redhead immediately turned her head to face Yelena, confusion and slight irritation in her gaze as she was drawn back into the real world outside of her own mind.

  Yelena just grinned a little, mouthing the word “boring” to her older sister with a bit of an eyeroll and a miming of a loud groan. Natasha immediately understood, sighing a bit and leaning nearer to the blonde while keeping her eyes on Steve carefully.

  “We’ve only got about five more minutes,” Natasha softly spoke, and Yelena’s eyes widened a little with surprise, joy from the prospect of getting out of the stuffy little room suddenly flooding through her.

  “Only five more minutes? That’s a blessing,” Yelena whispered, her words barely above a breath as she smiled with relief as her posture loosened significantly. Natasha smirked a tiny bit, and Yelena quickly lost her smile, knowing that her sister’s mirth was definitely not a good sign.

  “And then we have to give our input on the whole thing,” Natasha explained to her with a smug look in her eyes, and Yelena almost groaned aloud as she just looked at Natasha with something that could only be described as pure suffering.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Yelena quietly replied, and Natasha just flashed her an affectionate, slightly pitying smile.

  “You practically begged me to let you come, remember?” Natasha whispered to her, her mouth not far from Yelena’s ear. Yelena could easily hear her amusement despite the quietness of her voice. Yelena flashed her a halfhearted glare in response. Yelena could easily see that Natasha was enjoying this way too much and she was quickly starting to realize that her suffering in this meeting was becoming Natasha’s entertainment for the afternoon.

  “I didn’t know it was going to be like watching paint dry,” Yelena sarcastically informed her, her eyes half-lidded as she just locked her eyes with the redhead’s light green eyes. Natasha just huffed in reply, shrugging noncommittally with a lopsided grin and returning her gaze to Steve as he concluded his speech and quieted, giving them all a chance to voice their thoughts.

  It was all that Yelena could do not to groan when someone piped up and started presenting an opposite opinion to the super soldier, which launched them all into a debate. She took that opportunity to just lean forward and rest her elbow on the table while propping up her chin with a hand, the entire room abuzz with conversation that she really had no input in whatsoever.

  She had almost totally zoned out when she suddenly heard Natasha start speaking. Everyone quieted, and Yelena was shaken back into reality just from the sheer quiet that fell across the room as they listened to Natasha’s words.

  It was then that Yelena truly understood the quiet power that Natasha held in the room. It was shocking to her just how well-respected that the redhead was. She had never really thought about it before, but she now was starting to realize that almost any time Natasha wanted something to happen, it would come together for her. Any time Yelena wanted to come along on a mission, Natasha saw to it that it happened, and Yelena knew that it could not have been something that was commonly allowed.

  It made her somehow admire her big sister even more. Of course, she would sooner die than admit that fact, but she nevertheless felt it deep within her as she stared at Natasha.

  Once Natasha had finished her piece, everyone started conversation about Natasha’s input. Yelena stared at the side of her sister’s face, and Natasha glanced in Yelena’s direction, hesitating as she realized Yelena was looking at her. Yelena just raised an eyebrow at her, and Natasha smiled a little.

  Soon enough, things grew boring again as the rest of the group were arguing and Yelena started to lose interest, her eyes glazing over a little as she just stared in a random direction, not really paying any attention to anyone.

  However, she was swiftly grounded when she felt a gentle hand on her back. Yelena glanced in Natasha’s direction quizzically, recognizing the touch immediately. Natasha was not even looking in her direction and actually seemed to be somewhat invested in the conversation occurring before them.

  Yelena, on the other hand, could not think about much besides how nice the contact felt and how she just wanted to melt on the spot. She also was a bit stuck on just how embarrassed she was going to be if she gave in to those impulses.

  To her pure surprise, Natasha slipped her hand underneath the blonde’s shirt and started gently tracing along her back, her fingers tickling barely in the softest of touches. Yelena almost froze up, but the sensations were just so comforting.

  Yelena could not even really bring herself to turn away Natasha’s affections, and she felt her stomach twist uncomfortably as she realized that the Avengers were going to inevitably see her so weak and defenseless. She really did not want them to witness her in that state. However, she definitely did not want Natasha to stop gently raking her fingers along her back in that manner that always made her feel so immensely loved.

  She tried to fight the urge to lean against Natasha, valiantly holding out against Natasha’s gentle touches. She knew she could not hold out for long, but she was going to do the best she could for as long as possible.

  She felt Natasha running her fingers along her back in a specific pattern, and Yelena swiftly felt a letter “I” on her back. Natasha swiped carefully, erasing, and then wrote “love.” Yelena knew precisely where this was going, remembering the last time Natasha had pulled this trick when they were alone in their house and definitely not surrounded by the cool kids. It made Yelena’s heart ache with love and adoration before, and it was having that same effect now. She knew that as soon as Natasha wrote the last word on her back, she would be unable to resist just melting into her sister.

  Sure enough, Natasha wrote “you” on her back, and after a long moment of the most resistance that she could possibly manage, she finally leaned over sideways and rested her head against Natasha’s shoulder heavily. As soon as she did, she felt a huge weight leave her and most of the irritation about the stupid conference disappearing in favor of basking in the love offered to her by the redhead. Embarrassment was coursing through her almost as strongly, but not persistently enough to make her move away from Natasha’s touch.

  She quickly noticed that Clint had immediately noticed them, and she supposed that was not the most embarrassing person to see it, but she still felt quite a bit of humiliation anyway. However, it did not seem to phase Natasha’s gentle strokes and touches at all, and Yelena just looked down at the table, avoiding looking at Clint.

  “Is she okay?” Steve suddenly questioned after several beats, and Yelena felt her stomach drop to her feet, embarrassment flooding over her as she realized more than just Clint had apparently noticed her. However, she still could not quite pull away from her sister’s affections, instead moving her face to hide it a little in Natasha’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, of course,” Natasha replied, a bit of humor in her voice, and Yelena felt as if she might die from pure embarrassment as she realized that Natasha found her humiliation to be quite humorous.

  “Huh. Who would’ve thought that disaster Russian number two had such a soft side?” Tony commented, and Yelena felt herself bristle a bit. She could practically feel Natasha’s gaze on her.

  “She’s a cutie,” Natasha doted on her, her voice affectionate in an almost teasing sort of way, and Yelena pulled her head away from Natasha’s shoulder, stubbornly looking away from the group and her sister as well. This was growing to be much too humiliating.

  She could feel Natasha starting to move her hand away from her, but Yelena just moved her back and followed Natasha’s hand. Despite her embarrassment, she was not giving up the attention now.

  “Oh, and you can pet her like a housecat, too?” Tony asked, laughing a little, and it was then that Natasha’s hand froze on Yelena’s back. Yelena could almost feel the joking tone in the air totally drop in favor of something much graver and more serious as Natasha apparently did not entirely take that last comment as a joke and it crossed into risky territory.

  “Man, I’ve got to get me one of those,” Tony pointed out in his typical manner, and even though Yelena knew that he did not mean anything by it, it still made her bristle as it reminded Yelena of older days when the handlers, trainers, and higher-ups at the Red Room simply saw her as a fresh slab of meat to be distributed as they pleased. Natasha seemed to pick up on it, and Yelena could feel Natasha’s hand against her back tighten.

  “So, what have we decided on?” Natasha questioned, totally skipping over the quip, but anyone could read the extreme warning in Natasha’s tone and the venom percolating just beneath the surface. She was daring every single person to challenge her and say something.

  Yelena moved her head to the side, taking in Natasha’s face. Her face was neutral enough, but Yelena could see the danger in her eyes that prohibited anyone from saying anything else about Yelena. Yelena was surprised, but she was very much grateful to Natasha for her to take such a deep offense to it and stop it immediately. That last comment had definitely stepped over the line.

  Everyone cleared their throat, an awkward silence falling over them before Steve suddenly called for a vote. Yelena looked at Natasha with a great bit of admiration, her heart melting despite the embarrassment that Natasha had caused her earlier.

  She moved back nearer to her sister, leaning into her side heavily and not caring who saw. No one would say anything about it anyway. Not after Natasha’s display.

  Soon enough, they all ended up settling on some version of the plan that resembled Natasha’s suggestion but also had some of Steve and Tony’s ideas thrown in as well. They quickly dismissed after that, and everyone dispersed.

  When Yelena and Natasha were walking down the hall together in a comfortable silence, Natasha as calm as could be, Yelena spoke up.

  “Thank you,” Yelena told her quietly, and Natasha raised an eyebrow, smiling affectionately at the blonde as she slowed a bit to fall more into step with Yelena.

  “Nobody gets to embarrass my sister but me,” Natasha told her, an uncharacteristic lightheartedness and teasing in her voice despite the seriousness that was in her eyes. Yelena rolled her eyes, shrugging at Natasha’s arm that was now thrown over her shoulders. Natasha started to move it away, her chuckle ringing near Yelena, but the blonde reached up and grabbed Natasha’s hand, keeping her arm where it was.

  “You’re a real prizewinner in the jerk category,” Yelena grumbled despite leaning into Natasha a little.

  “I learned everything I knew from you.”

  “Ha,” Yelena let out a short, fake bark of laughter. “You must be a fast learner if you figured it out that well in the relatively short amount of time that we’ve been reunited.”

  Natasha just chuckled in reply to her. Yelena just raised an eyebrow with a smirk. After a moment, she just looked over at Natasha and eyed her softly, her heart swelling with affection. Natasha returned the gaze, her eyes conveying all the warmth in the world.

  “Ya tebya lyublyu.”

  “Ya lyublyu tebya yeshche bol'she.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #yelena belova #widow sisters #black widow #steve rogers #tony stark #clint barton #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fic #black widow 2021 #black widow fanfiction #avengers #fanfiction

[ragingbookdragon]

Through Hoods, Through Lace, Through Hearts--We'll Find Our Healing PT.1

Jason Todd x Reader Story (Arkhamverse)

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I started playing Arkham Knight again and got inspired. Who woulda thought?? Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham wasn’t exactly safe since Batman—or Bruce Wayne—had died. All things considered, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be now that Red Hood had moved in and started tackling the criminals Batman had left behind—permanently. Killer Moth had been the first and Roman Sionis was the second to go, and while Red Hood hadn’t outright claimed it, the leftover crew that hadn’t been pumped full of lead, had said that they saw the vigilante leaving, so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. And it didn’t stop there.

Red Hood had started in on Penguin’s gang too. Now that Batman wasn’t around to stop the weapons and drug smuggling, it’d given the infamous gang leader a free ticket into Gotham. There were some reports about the neighboring vigilante Nightwing coming over from Blüdhaven to stop him. Rumor had it that someone said they even saw him and the Red Hood working together at one point, but it didn’t seem all to believable as the latter didn’t seem to be the partnering type.

That being said, with no one to stop him from killing all the criminals he wanted, a lot of the small-time fish got out of the business, not wanting to be met at the end of Red Hood’s handguns—it’s the exact reason she got out of the game. The money was good, and she was a damn good thief, but no amount of payout was worth her life. But somehow, trouble always managed to find her again.

***

Her file might’ve gotten deleted from GCPD’s database, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take the easy way down the street and risk an officer recognizing her. She stuck to the back alleys like usual, ignoring the catcalls and sleazy comments about her outfit, but still keeping her brass knuckles around her hand—could never be too careful in Gotham.

Working an honest job sucked in her opinion, and the only thing more humiliating than working at Super-Babes was the number of tips she was getting at the end of her shift. Maybe if she smiled and flirted a bit more, they’d give her a tenner instead of a fiver. She’d half a mind to shove that five down the asshole’s throat after he ran his hand up the back of her thigh, but she was lucky that Tony had been working the kitchen shift—watching him throw the guy out on his ass was payment enough.

Even if she was managing to scrape by, working a restaurant job was kicking her ass, and something deep inside her itched for one more heist, but with the Red Hood stalking the city, there was no way in hell that she was going to risk it. The man had a reputation for leaving bodies and shell cases, and she wasn’t going to be the former. No, she was working towards a better future, getting back on track, and even if she was waitress, she was doing a lot better than most of the old crew. Most of them had either joined up with Black Mask, in hindsight, a horrible error on their part, or gotten thrown back into lockup. She was lucky—she got out during the recovery of Gotham after the whole Scarecrow and Arkham Knight deal. But that didn’t stop them from sending her the occasional request of her skills. All they received was a big ‘fuck no and fuck you’.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N). Finally tracked you down.” Speak of the devil.

“Alex,” she sighed heavily as she turned halfway, catching sight of her old partner—and old flame, but that wasn’t important. “Figured you would at some point.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Alex chuckled and leaned against the wall. “No need to be so touchy. I just wanted to talk.”

(Y/N) shook her head and hiked her purse higher onto her shoulder, fingers tightening around the brass knuckles in her pocket.

“If it’s not about my next shift at Super-Babes, I don’t give a rat’s ass what it is,” she countered, glaring at him.

“That’s where you’ve been working?” he questioned, but his tone gave way to the knowingness in his gaze. “Really?”

“Not like there’s anywhere else for ex-thieves to apply, Alex,” (Y/N) grumbled. “Employers are pretty meticulous when it comes to criminal records.”

“I’m not.”

She glowered at him. “I’m not interested in whatever you want me to do for you.”

“Even if you’ll get paid?” he suggested.

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask,” she sighed, eyes narrowing at the grin that split across his face. “What are you doing?”

Alex pulled out a file and walked up to her. “I knew you couldn’t resist a big payout.”

“Fuck you,” she grunted, swiping the manilla folder from him. “Shine a light for me.”

He pulled out his phone and flicked his flashlight on, watching as she read the papers, occasionally flipping the sheets.

All at once, she paused and gaped at him. “Wayne Manor?” She blinked. “You wanna `excavate Wayne Manor?”

Alex nodded and turned the flashlight off, stowing the phone back into his pocket. “Good plan, isn’t it?”

(Y/N) breathed in shock and lowered the folder. “Are you insane?”

“I’m failing to see your issue with this.”

“You want to excavate the home of a dead man. You really can’t see the issue with it?”

“That he’s dead?” Alex offered. “Technically that’s not graverobbing. He’s been dead for like a year and a half.”

(Y/N) turned and took a step. “That’s not the issue Alex!” She spun back around and hissed, “Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

“Keyword was. Not anymore.”

“I don’t give a shit. If Bruce Wayne was Batman, then there’s a very strong chance that there’s still defenses laid around the grounds.”

“In that pile of rubble? Not likely, but that’s why I need you to help me.”

“No,” (Y/N) declared. “I’m not going anywhere near that place.”

Alex let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “And why not? You never really liked Batman. Didn’t he put you in jail once or twice?”

“Bruce Wayne was a good man that did his best to help this city whether he was dressed as Batman or not.” She affirmed. “He saved people, gave them jobs, helped them turn their lives around. No,” she shook her head. “I don’t want any part of this job, Alex. Now, later, or forever. I’m trying to do better, and you should too.”

Alex scoffed. “Oh please, getting tips for dressing like slutty Wonder Woman isn’t doing better (Y/N), and you know it.”

She ignored the insult and shrugged. “Maybe not, but I go to sleep at night knowing that I’m not going to get shot by Red Hood or some greedy gangbanger.”

At that, Alex paused and stared at her. “Are you really afraid of that prick?”

(Y/N) scowled. “That pricktook out Black Mask and his entire operation within twenty-four hoursthen immediately turned his attention on the rest of the scumbags in this city.” Taking a step towards him, she added, “He doesn’t break bones and leave you lying in pain like Batman did, Alex. He makes sure you don’t get up again. Ever. I’m not risking my neck for anything that’s stuck in Wayne’s basement.”

The man across from her was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I can’t sway you in any way?”

She yanked her hand out of her jacket pocket and flashed the knuckles around her hand. “I’d stop swaying and start running instead.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was, “Oh fuck!” then he spun around and hauled off like his ass was on fire.

(Y/N) stood there dumbfounded. Sure, she could be intimidating, but there was no way she was that scary. Instead of questioning it, she shrugged and shoved the folder into her skirt, then turned sharply on her heel to start on her way back to her apartment. Until she walked straight into someone’s chest.

She gasped as she stumbled backwards, knowing she was going to fall on her ass when strong hands grasped her upper arms, keeping her upright. (Y/N) looked up and met the very man she’d been talking about. Suddenly, Alex’s explicative and escape made perfect sense.

“Oh fuck!” she blurted out, and impulsively swung her knuckled fist at the jaw of his helmet. He caught her hand with an ease and spun her around, pressing her front up against the brick wall.

“Fuck me. Oh, fuck me,” she hissed, cursing herself for not telling Alex to stick it where the sun didn’t shine the second he found her. Now here she was about to get murdered by a trigger-happy vigilante with a grudge.

“Really? Right here? But someone could see us?” The humor in his tone drew a startled laugh from her and she pressed her cheek against the wall, so she could see him.

“I swear to God I don’t have anything to do with him. Fuck, I’ll tell you whatever you want about him and his plan if you don’t kill me.” (Y/N) sucked in a breath. “Please don’t kill me. I swear I stopped pulling heists after Halloween last year. I work a decent job. I keep my nose clean. I don’t get involved in that shit anymore. Please, God, don’t—”

“Will you stop talking for like ten seconds?” Red Hood griped, one hand leaving the grasp he had on her arms behind her back to feel around her middle.

“HEY!” she shouted, thrashing wildly. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

He pressed her harder to the wall. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Calm down.”

“I’ll calm down when you get your fucking hands out of my skirt your fucking pervert!” (Y/N) spat, leaning on one leg to kick at him with the other.

“All I want is what’s in your skirt,” he sighed and pressed one of his thighs against the one kicking him. “Christ,you’re a handful.”

“And you’re a fucking sicko!” she retorted indignantly. “Is this how you get your rocks off? Assaulting innocent women? You’re so fucking disgu—”

“Got it,” Red Hood declared, and yanked out the file she’d shoved in the side of her skirt. (Y/N) fell silent when he held it beside her head. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

She could tell he was smirking behind the red helmet and she scowled at him. “You’re fucked up, buddy.”

Shrugging, he flipped open the file and started reading. “Would’ve been easier if you hadn’t tried to run on me.”

“Well excuse me for thinking I was about to get murdered and having the initial instinct to haul ass.”

Red Hood chuckled at that, and despite how wrong the entire situation was, the low drawl made shivers go down her spine.

“Wanna tell me about your friend?” he coaxed and (Y/N) froze.

“He’s not my friend,” she suddenly protested. “I haven’t been around Alex since last year.”

“Really? You two seem fairly chummy.”

(Y/N) craned her neck to look at him. “We used to fuck when we worked together.”

“Mhm,” he hummed knowingly. “Lover’s spat then?”

Barking a laugh, she countered, “Like you wouldn’t believe.” She stared at him. “I got out when you started putting people down. Didn’t want to be a casualty.”

“That’ll do it,” he snickered. “So, you don’t know what Alex’s been up to since last year?”

“No, and I want it to stay that way, but he thinks that if he waves enough heists in my face, I’ll cave and run back to the money.” (Y/N) groaned and rested her head against the wall. “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, and I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with whatever that plan it. Honest to God.”

She gazed at him, feeling something akin to tears gathering in her vision, and pled, “Take the file. Hell, take all the money I’ve got in my purse if you want, just don’t kill me.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “Please, I’m begging you. I don’t wanna die now.”

Red Hood’s weight disappeared from her back and he murmured, “I’m not going to hurt you. I want the opposite in fact.” The honesty in his words made her body feel weak and her knees started to go out beneath her. “And there she goes.” He caught her before she fell.

Gently lowering her to the ground, he helped her sit against the wall. (Y/N) leaned her head back and let out a long sigh.

“Oh, thank God.”

He laughed. “Life flashing before your eyes?”

She gave a half-hearted smile. “You’ve got no idea.”

This time when he laughed, it was dark, and it made her stomach churn. “Actually, I do.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, then he knelt in front of her, handing her purse back to her.

“Here.”

(Y/N) took it with a nod and stared at him. “So, what happens now?”

He was quiet for a moment, then he waved the file. “I go stop your friends from digging around Batman’s home.”

“Good luck,” she replied, starting to her feet when he tutted.

“Ah-ah-ah.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “We’re not done yet.”

She grunted at him. “What do you want?”

“Information on your friends.”

(Y/N) felt her brows furrow. “Can’t you find that out yourself?”

Red Hood shrugged. “I could, but I’m always looking to make my job easier.” He observed her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills.

Waving it in front of her, he said, “You tell me what you used to do for them and what all they’ve got going on, and you can have this.”

(Y/N)’s jaw went tight as she stared at the roll. That could pay rent and bills for at least two months. She needed the money. Her eyes darted to the mask and she swiped for the roll, but he raised it out of her reach.

“Nope,” he ribbed. “Info first.”

“Ass,” she grumbled, but conceded with a sigh. “Fine. Have it your way.” (Y/N) clambered to her feet and dusted off her tacky skirt, watching as he did the same.

“Follow me to my apartment.” Before he could say a word, she thrust a finger into his chest. “And do it from the rooftops so people don’t see you.” Her face set in a glare. “I don’t need any unwanted guests trying to get in because they saw you following me.”

She started off when Red Hood grabbed her forearm, not harshly, but firm enough to make her stop and stare at him questioningly.

“What’s your name?”

She blinked, not expecting that. “It’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

He nodded. “And what did they call you when you worked as a thief?”

(Y/N) huffed. “Not everyone has an alias, Red Hood.”

Chuckling, he retorted, “Yeah, but someone as pretty as you no doubt had one.”

She felt her stomach flutter at his flirt and her cheeks warmed as she looked away and replied, “They used to call me, ‘The Lady in Lace’.”

“The Lady in Lace?” he repeated, then stood next to her and pulled out a grappling gun. “Have a matching outfit, Lady Lace?”

(Y/N) shoved him in the side. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I think I’d rather see,” Red Hood flirted and pressed the button, shooting off towards the roof of the building.

It was gonna be a long night.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #dc comics #dc imagine #dc imagines #batman arkham knight #arkham knight #arkhamverse

[mandoalorian]

Champagne Problems [Frankie Morales x Reader]

Summary: Sitting on the night train, Frankie reminisces on the time he proposed to you, his high school sweetheart. You were so sure that this was all you ever wanted. But as it turned out, you had more on your plate than you initially bargained for, and things don’t go as well as Frankie could’ve hoped.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 1600>

Warnings: allusions to death, mention of substance abuse, addiction, relapse, allusions to depression, cigarettes mention, self induced injury, food mention, alcohol mention.

Author’s Note: BASED HEAVILY ON THE SONG ‘Champagne Problems’ by Taylor Swift. Please please give this song a listen either before or after you read this. It is so beautiful.

Masterlist

Frankie booked the night train for a reason. He couldn’t stay in town anymore, knowing that you were still there. He had no place to go, but that was the least of his concerns. Embarrassed and humiliated, all Frankie wanted was to sit and drown in all his hurt. As he paid for the ticket, he considered how the train might look. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers? He wasn’t sure which was worse. So long as he was without you, he was alone and without purpose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The living room was burning in amber candlelight, the faint smell of figgy pudding cooking in the distance was so distinct, and the crackling of the record player when the vinyl needed flipped was enough noise to give Frankie nightmares for the rest of his life. You and Frankie were the last ones dancing, your feet shuffling against his mom’s old carpet as you gazed longingly into his eyes.

When he got down on one knee and asked you to marry him, in front of his entire family, you wanted to say yes. So desperately, in your heart, you were certain that you wanted to marry Frankie Morales. And so, in that moment, you weren’t quite sure why the word “no” fell from your lips. Like every word you had ever spoken, the rejection was sweet like honey, and somehow, that only made the cut sting more.

Frankie’s face softened and he looked down at his feet as his cheeks burned pink with shame. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. How could you do this to him? Frankie made the mistake of scoping out the room, taking in the appearance of his family members who sat there with their jaws agape, watching the heartbreaking scene unravel before them like some kind of movie. You hadn’t meant to hurt him like this. You would never mean to hurt him. You loved him.

And so, Frankie shoved the small velvet box back into his jean pocket and didn’t speak another word. He continued to slow dance with you until the song ended. The melody was tainted now, and you tried your hardest to fight back your tears. Somehow, you knew, this would be your last dance with Frankie. You wish you could find the words to make things right. Would an apology be enough? For a brief moment, you and Frankie looked into each other's eyes and you still felt that familiar love… until, on impulse, you made the decision to drop his hands and run away. You left him standing there, crestfallen, in front of his entire family.

Sitting on the train, he gazed out the window. Pearly white snowflakes fluttered past him and they reminded him of your gentle nature and delicacy. Your picture burned a hole in his wallet, and his mom’s wedding ring weighed down his pocket. Frankie’s heart was like glass, fragile, and you had so carelessly dropped it.

Frankie had told his family on Christmas Eve when he thought you were tucked up in the warmth of his bed, fast asleep. The excitement was bubbling within him and he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. He had told them of his plan to marry you. But his delight was short-lived when he acknowledged the concern that crossed their faces. You were Frankie’s only ever love; his highschool sweetheart, but they knew you were a ticking time bomb. You were about as self-destructive as they came.

The Morales’ had known you long enough to recognise your history of mental illness; although they didn’t take the liberty to understand it. You hadn’t had the easiest of lives, but neither had Frankie. You had grown up with them. Whether they liked you or not, they were your family.

Between the pile of ash and the burned out cigarettes that cluttered every surface of his childhood bedroom, you felt yourself slipping into relapse. You weren’t sleeping like he thought you were. When the panic swelled into your lungs, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing, your sobs were hysterical, and you were smashing up the cheap beer bottles so the glass cut your fingers. You desperately searched for a quick and easy way out. For once, you just wanted to feel something.

Frankie was the love of your life. He deserved to know about your struggles. You knew that, deep down, he would want to know. He would want to help you. Frankie was so caring, holding your hand through every battle you ever fought. But he wasn’t without scars either. He’d finally recovered from his own problem with addiction, and you had promised him that you were getting better too. You didn’t need to drag him down when he was doing so well.

That’s the thing. You were so sure you were getting better. With Frankie having retired from the force, he was by your side every second of the day, and you had truly never been happier. But any person who suffers with mental illness will tell you that Christmas is the hardest time of the year. In fact, you were surprised to see him coping so well, not knowing that the thought of marrying you was the only thing getting him through the season.

You couldn’t enjoy yourself. The thought of eating all the delicious foods that Mrs Morales had prepared made you feel sick to your stomach, and it would be so easy to mess up and have one too many glasses of wine before you were spiralling again.

The night of the proposal, Frankie’s brother, Abel, had splashed out on the finest bottle of Don Périgon.

But nobody was celebrating.

Not even bothering to wrap up warm, you had left for good, into the darkness of the woods behind the Morales family home. The cold of the winter night stung every inch of your bare body, and the ice slipped through your shoes as you trenched through the thick white snow.

The memory replayed in your mind over and over again, tears free-falling down your face at this point. Your sobs echoed through the bare trees and as you crossed the frozen lake, you made no effort to be careful. This was your fate.

As Frankie sat on the train, contemplating his rejection, he couldn’t help but let out a deflated chuckle. He felt pathetic.

He had a whole speech planned out; about how he knew that you were the one for him the day he met you. It was sophomore year of high school and you and your friends were hanging out by his Chevy truck. Your cheeks were flushed with the colour of November and you were wearing a brown and blue flannel shirt that dropped down to your knees. It was identical to his.

By the time college rolled around, you had already been dating for a year, and had decided to move in together.

“This dorm was once a madhouse.” Frankie exclaimed incredulously, his dark eyes going comically wide as he read the pamphlet that had been presented to him by the university landlord.

You joked with a half smile and tugged on his arm. “Well it’s made for me.” With the jangle of the keys, you both entered your first ever home together — a shanty little apartment located in the corner of campus. Little did you know, those four walls were where you’d really begin to lose your mind. Nevertheless, those were his memories of you, and he wouldn’t change them for the world.

Frankie considered yours and his friendship group in college ‘evergreen’; a symbol of perfection, but now he didn’t think he’d ever say that word again. In a life without you, no such beauty could exist.

He had a speech, now he’s speechless. His love slipped beyond your reaches, and you couldn’t even give him a reason. His hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. It was a glamourised reference to your addiction.

As you walked over the lake, you didn’t even notice the way the ice slowly began to crack beneath your feet. Your thoughts were too loud as you tried your hardest to justify your actions. Maybe you just weren’t cut out for marriage. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

Not long after you had run off, Frankie broke down in front of his family. His parents and siblings surrounded him, shushing him and holding him tight. In a desperate attempt to comfort him, they put you down, making it out as if he deserved better.

Frankie didn’t know if he deserved better. All he knew was that he wanted you.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head,” they said. “but you’ll find the real thing instead.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the ice finally shattered, you were already completely numb. Blue lips and snowflakes balancing on your eyelashes — and yet all you could think about was your Frankie. You were sure that he’d move on eventually, he had to. He deserved happiness. If you could have it your way, you’d apologise for wasting his time all these years.

As your body sunk into the depths of the river, you could only hope that he’d eventually forget about your champagne problems.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie ​ @stardust-galaxies ​ @wickedfrsgrl ​ @goth-topic ​ @nerdypinupcrystal ​ @wonderfulfluffer ​ @kiwi-the-first ​ @pedroepascal ​ @castiel-barnes ​ @honeymandos ​ @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot ​ @dybalalover10 ​ @girl-obsessed-with-things ​ @elena-myth ​ @moth-guillotine ​ @pedro-pascal-love ​ @hayley-the-comet ​ @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya ​ @autumnleaves1991-blog ​ @artsymaddie ​ @harrys-stan ​ @kennedywxlsh ​ @cripplingmoon ​ @cheekygeek05 ​ @mrschiltoncat ​ @rye-flower ​ @theamuz @persie33 ​ @sleepylunarwolf ​ @martellthemandalor ​ @pedro-pastel ​ @steeevienicks ​ @rrtxcmt ​@saphic-susperia

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Lasting Rivalries.

Word Count: 4.0k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Synopsis: Izuku loves you, but he doesn’t like Katsuki very much. It’s just a shame he can’t separate one feeling from the other. 

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Mentions of Past Assult, Violence, Non-Graphic Injury, Mentions of Drug Use, Implied Death, Unhealthy Relationships, and Delusional Mindsets.

[Part Two]

Within the day, Izuku’s base was abandoned.

It was a temporary measure, he’d explained, just a precaution to make sure Katsuki and all his nasty little friends couldn’t find their way back to his hide-out, which turned out to be a bunker tucked away underneath one of the many discarded office buildings on the edge of the city. It was almost impressive, how with only a wave of his hand, all of his lackeys uprooted themselves from the home they seemed so accustomed to with little more than an exasperated sigh or a remorseful shake of their head. If Izuku had been disappointed, you weren’t able to tell. Despite the rush, the anxiety that came with releasing a scorned hostage, he was all smiles, all gentle touches and soft tones and sentiments so patronizing, you began to think you’d almost prefer his anger.

He knew you were quirkless, now, and there wasn’t an observant civilian in the city who didn’t know about Izuku’s troubled past, of his fondness of those born without a gift. You couldn’t say you blamed him, not if you approached it objectively. It hadn’t been an easy burden to carry, growing up, but you weren’t growing up anymore, you weren’t a kid waiting for a quirk that’d never come or a teenager, balancing the embarrassment of daily life with the humiliation that came with being so undeniably different than your peers, and in such an unhidable way, too. You weren’t over it, but you were past it. You still remembered all those awful, disgusting things people said to you, but you didn’t let them keep you awake at night. You were dealing with it. You were moving forward.

Izuku wasn’t.

He wasn’t even trying to.

But, it wasn’t your place to call him out, not when it came to that, not when you were stuck inside your new prison - someplace just as confining, but only half as tolerable. Technically, it was an improvement. After abandoning his bunker, Izuku’s followers had dispersed, and along with a handful of his closest companions, you’d been taken to a seedy bar on the worse side of town, locked inside of a small, windowless room on the second story and forced to watch as Izuku threw away the key. There were no cards, this time, no unbais locks with a dozen different work-around, just a deadbolt on your door and four-digit code you’d never get the chance to guess at. He wasn’t taking any risks, this time, he wasn’t giving you the smallest opportunity to jump at. It was a new sense of determination that’d come in the form of a shackle around your ankle and a bottle of white, circular pills Izuku forced down your throat every time he took you beyond the confines beyond your four walls. Ones that made you dizzy, weak, sedated. A measure that couldn’t be for your own safety, despite Izuku’s attempts to insist otherwise.

He seemed busier, too, than he was before your abduction. It might just be because you didn’t have anything else to focus on. As far as you could tell, Izuku only let his inner circle know where you were being held, and they still seemed hesitant to do more than deliver your meals or offer a few passive niceties when they were forced to interact with you. Saying your company was limited would’ve been an understatement. He tried to make it up to you with books and gifts and outfits that were more for his enjoyment than yours, but you were lucky if his visits lasted longer than an hour. His wasn’t the face you’d prefer to see on a daily basis, but it was still worrying to have your captor be too preoccupied to serve as a real threat. And when he did make time for you…

Izuku liked to have something to hold on to. He liked to be able to squeeze, and pull, and bruise, even if the pain he caused was more of a byproduct than a goal. His intentions didn’t matter, though, not when his fingertips dug into your thighs, not when his teeth sank into your neck, not when he got a little too excited and only stopped because your complaints had gotten frantic enough to be annoying. You’d learned quickly that Izuku was an affectionate man, but you’d learned even faster that you never wanted to be the one that affection was directed towards. Having him go days at a time without checking in with you was concerning, but having him next to you was unbearable. You tried not to think about it, when you could help it.

Luckily, today was a case of the former, when Izuku had too much on his mind and too little time to sort it out to bother convincing you to love him back. He’d let himself into your room an hour ago, and yet, he hadn’t been able to do more than kiss your forehead and offer a muttered greeting before loosening his tie and setting to pacing, wandering back and forth through the cramped confines of your homey cage. It was starting to scare you. No, it was starting to terrify you. You’d passed the point of just being scared days ago.

You doubted he could say anything to comfort you, but you found yourself talking regardless. If only to fill the silence with something that wasn’t his constant, incoherent mumbling, really. “Something’s going on,” You started, trying to sound more confident than you’d ever be, around him. “Something’s going on, and you’re not telling me about it.”

His answer was automatic, the one he’d given you a thousand times over. “I’m taking care of it, darling.”

“Midoriya, please.” It was more of a plea than a request, an appeal to whatever love he might’ve had for you, whatever trust he might’ve had in you. You weren’t blind, you knew he didn’t think you were strong or capable or of any particular use beyond serving as a particularly high-maintenance ornament, but if he thought you were endearing enough to keep as a companion, he should’ve been able to treat you like a companion, too. “Right now, your safety is my safety. If someone’s going to break down that door and kill both of us…” You trailed off, forcing yourself to let out an airy, humorless laugh. “I should get to know who it’s going to be.”

For a moment, Izuku hesitated, but it was only for a moment. With a small sigh, the tension in his shoulder dissolved, and he took to rubbing the back of his neck, one in a never-ending line of nervous ticks. “It’s really nothing either of us can help,” He insisted, making a half-hearted attempt to break his concerned frown into a small smile. “A lot of my recruits were training to be heroes when I picked them up, did I ever tell you that? I got to most of them too early on for it to be useful, but a few have some experience. It makes it easier to tell with the other side’s planning something, not that they’d ever miss a chance to put on a good show.”

“And it’s been getting worse?” The sentiment left a bitter taste on your tongue. You never thought you’d speak a word against the hero industry, not so generally, but Izuku had a way of rubbing off on you, or the way you spoke, at least.

“It’s certainly busier than it should be,” He admitted, the words grumbled through grit teeth. “I’ve had to lie low, but that makes things difficult. There’s a hierarchy in this city, and people don’t tend to react well when the one on the throne goes into hiding. Weapon distributors aren’t getting their shipments on time, gangs aren’t keeping to their own territory, it’s all devolving into chaos, and all because those bastards can’t take a step back and let me tend to things.”

His hands were curling at his sides, now, his nails driving themselves into his bare palms with so much repressed ferocity, it almost looked painful. It was an impulsive thing to do, an act that’d play right into his delusional little fantasy, but that didn’t stop you from reaching out and taking him by the sleeve, pulling him towards your cot. Your chain rattled as you swung your legs over the side of your bed, but you tried to ignore it, biting the inside of your cheek and letting Izuku fall into place next to you. He didn’t try to resist, only going slack as his head lolled onto your shoulder.

Your next question came reluctantly, guiltily. You couldn’t be sure how long it’d been since you’d last seen Katsuki, but after a month came and went without the slightest hint of your boyfriend, your hopes had dampened, dimmed, turned into something much darker than you’d ever thought they would be. You still knew he’d come back for you. He had to come back, but you couldn’t know when he would. You couldn’t know how he might’ve changed, by the time he did.

You couldn’t know if he’d still be your Katsuki, by then.

“What about Bakugo?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Have you heard anything about him?”

With that, an almost sympathetic aire found its way to his tired expression. Somehow, he found just enough energy to reach up, running his finger through your hair as he drew you closer, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You went stiff, but you didn’t shove him away. You knew better than to reject Izuku so blatantly, by now. “You don’t have to worry about Kacchan. I let him get away, but I made sure he didn’t leave unscathed.” There was a pause, a hand finding its way to your hip. You fought not to recoil, and Izuku pretended not to notice. “He only picked up his patrol routes last week, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him. If he wants to get to you, he’ll have to pry you from my cold, dead hands.”

You wanted to ask again. You wanted to ask again, and again, and again until you ran out of breath and Izuku had to decide whether to gag you, starve you, or find a way to combine the two. It was a common choice to get stuck on, whether to quell your paranoia or side with your common sense, but ultimately, Izuku was the one to make the decision for you. It was soft, at first, the feeling of his lips ghosting over your skin, but things with Izuku rarely stayed innocent. Your body was rigid by the time you felt his tongue run over your jugular, your hands on his shoulder as his teeth ghosted over your neck, but by the time you moved to shove him away, he was already clinging to you, snaking an arm around your waist as his teeth sunk in, as he drew blood.

“I don’t--” You tried to complain, but you were cut off by a low hum from Izuku, a half-hearted sign of dismissal as he moved on to his next target, just above the dip of your collarbone. “Midoriya,” You tried, trying to shove him away. “This really isn’t the time, I’m really not in the mood. You were just talking how screwed we’d be if--”

“I was worried about it, and then, my angel comforted me. That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He pulled you closer, nuzzling into your chest. “I’m just repaying the favor. It’d be unfair if I didn’t show my (Y/n) how much I appreciate them.”

He moved to go on, but suddenly, his eyes opened, his posture going stiff before he could say something to make you squirm and do something to make you hate him even more. You heard it a moment after he did, and felt it a second after that - voices, louder than they should’ve been, coming from the floor below, and then a crash that couldn’t have been accidental. There was a subtle tremors, a reverberation that left you locking your jaw into place. Izuku didn’t let go of you, but his grip loosened, his attention suddenly elsewhere.

And then, without warning, the floor caved in.

It happened in the blink of an eye, in the space between one second and another. One moment, you were sitting on a cot, and the next, you were lying on your back, every part of your body aching, a dozen things sprained and another hundred bruised, or cut, or ripped open and left to bleed. You forced yourself to open your eyes, but it was pointless - the world around you was grey and brown and nothing. Dust and debris polluted the air, clouding it beyond recognition, and if there was anything salvageable left of the first floor, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, much less do something with whatever you found. The fall couldn’t have been very far, but the ground was unforgiving, and everything hurt. It was all you could do to push yourself to your feet, your legs threatening to buckle under your own weight. You pulled yourself through a step, then another before you realized what was wrong.

You could stand.

You could walk.

Blearily, you focused on the shackle around your ankle, the thing that should’ve been keeping you bound to the cot now buried under a pile of rubble twice as tall as you were. The metallic circlet was still there, only slightly scoffed, but when you followed the short chain, the only thing it led back to was a pole, one leg of the makeshift bed you’d become so acquainted with. You almost left it there. Right now, you were  more focused on finding an exit and getting out than celebrating such a convenient victory, but a low moaning tore your attention towards another mangled form before you could stagger away. A mass of black fabric, a white shirt soaked through with something dark and rusty. Hair, darker than it should’ve been, and just as tangled as it usually was.

Izuku. Injured and beaten, but unquestionably Izuku. For a moment, you thought he was dead, but a guttural cough tore you away from that daydream. He didn’t move, but his eyes flickered open, finding you among the ruins. It almost seemed like he would smile, like he would laugh and call his henchmen and you’d be recaptured before you could get so much as a breath of fresh air. You could hear fighting in the distance, yelling from heroes and villains alike, but they weren’t here, not yet. Izuku could still do something crafty and clever and evil, and you’d have to pay for it. 

You’d be the victim again, and he’d come out on top.

By the time you made up your mind, your hand was already closing around the pole, the metal heavy in your fist. Izuku watched you silently, only forcing something out as you came to stand over him.

“You’d be better off with me,” He spat, his voice raspy, feeble. “If you go running back into his arms, into his world, you’ll regret it.”

You were tempted to listen. You might’ve, but you couldn’t. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself, if you did.

It wasn’t like he’d ever stopped to listen to you, after all.

You were only returning the favor.

~

You didn’t remember passing out.

You didn’t remember it, but you must’ve, because the next time you woke up, you weren’t in the debris of Izuku’s hideout, anymore - you didn’t seem to be anywhere. The lights were blinding for a second, fospheresent and white and searing, but the onslaught retreated as quickly as it attacked, disappearing completely as you remembered how to blink. If your body hurt before, it was even worse now, but the pain was at a distance, forced back by a translucent liquid and a handful of needles pumping the substance into your bloodstream, one drop at a time. You were tempted to rip them out, if only as a learned instinct, but a glance around the room revealed that you were in a medical bed, not on a cot, that the walls around you were white and speckled with dark blues and greens, rather that the dull grey you’d grown used to. It was a silent relief, not unexpected but certainly not unappreciated, the type that made you want to fall into the stiff mattress and sleep until you got used to the feeling of being able to, but you had a reason to stay awake. You had a reason to want to be awake.

Because someone was holding your hand.

Because Katsuki was holding your hand.

He was slumped against the arm of a sterile, poorly cushioned chair, his eyes nearly closed. He must’ve been here for a while - he was still wearing the essentials of his costume, but his mask had been discarded, as had his belt and his gauntlets, anything he didn’t need to sit by your bedside and fret over you. He looked exhausted, but he perked up as your fingers intertwined with his, a small smile spreading across his lips as he scanned over you.

His voice was raspy, obscure by sleep, but his tone was light, affectionate. You were thankful. That was all you needed him to be. “You took your fucking time.”

“So did you.” You might hold it against him, later on, but right now, you just wanted to settle onto your side and grin as Katsuki’s expression softened into something apologetic. “How long was I--”

“A little more than a day.” He must’ve gone over that a thousand times before you woke up. He wasn’t eager, but the speech was rehearsed, practiced, just bordering on scripted. “It’s just a minor concussion and a few fractures. Taking out Deku’s hideout was riskier than it should’ve been, but we couldn’t think of another way to separate him from his lackeys without putting civilians at risk. By the time we handled his lap dogs, you’d already collapsed.”

You hesitated, but you forced yourself to ask. You needed to know he wouldn’t come crawling back. You needed to know you hadn’t fallen to his level for nothing. “And Midoriya?”

“Died in the crash, as far as anyone can tell.” Katsuki took a deep breath, just a hint of regret finding its way into his disposition. It didn’t last long, though, dispelled with an heavy sigh. “It’s for the best. The sooner that motherfucker’s wiped off the face of the planet, the better. I was just hoping it wouldn’t be so…” He trailed off, running his free hand through his hair. “Would you believe me if I said I still thought he might not be so… fucked up, once we got him back?”

You wouldn’t. You’d spent weeks under Izuku’s thumb, tripping over yourself to keep him happy with you, spending every waking moment trying to please a sociopath, but that didn’t change the fact that he used to be Katsuki’s friend, that they’d grown up together, and that it’d been Katsuki’s fault they grew apart. You couldn’t answer, not in a way that would soothe his lingering doubts, But, he didn’t seem to need you to. Before you could think of something to say, he was already shrugging it off, shaking his head as he turned towards you. “I can’t keep focusing on shit like that, though. You’re back, and you’re safe, and that’s all that matters to me.”

You let yourself relax, melting into your pillow as Katsuki bent over the side of your bed, pushing a light, delicate kiss into your temple. “I’m just glad I got out of there,” You admitted. Katsuki only nodded in acknowledgement, nimble fingers beginning to comb through your disheveled hair. “I can’t wait to see everyone again, it feels like years since I’ve talked to someone besides Midoriya. Mina’s going to smother me, and Denki -- Wait, do you think I still have a job? They can’t fire me for getting abducted, right?”

You felt Katsuki stiffen. It took him a second to respond, just long enough to let you know something was wrong. “I… I don’t think you should head back to work, just yet.”

“Well, yeah, I’m still in a hospital gown,” You laughed, attempting to ignore his sudden seriousness. “But eventually, I’ll have to--”

“I don’t think you should go back at all.” If he was reluctant before, he’d gotten over it. Reflexively, you pushed yourself up, your arms shaking under the strain, but Katsuki was quick to backtrack, to flinch away and curse under his breath, cupping your cheek as he urged you to hear him out. “I know you’re probably dyin’ for things to go back to the way they used to be, and I know I’m being selfish, but… You were kidnapped, (Y/n), by a villain. Deku was the worst ‘em, but he wasn’t the only one. There’s probably hundreds of-- thousands of people out there who’d be willing to rip your heart out, if it means getting back to me. I don’t know if it’d be able to take it, if you wanted to risk that. I don’t know if it’d be able to let you risk that. I...” He forced himself to stop, to take a steading breath. “I just want to keep you safe. I need you to let me keep you safe.”

Huh.

It hurt a lot less than you thought it would.

It was the numbing sort of shock, a cold wave of a scenario you’d imagined (albeit, one you’d never liked) plenty of times coming to fruition. Part of you thought Katsuki might burst out laughing, that he might be joking, but Katsuki didn’t move to back down, didn’t move to do anything but stare. It made sense. He hadn’t known if you were dead or alive for a month, and Katsuki was the type to get nervous when you went more than a day without seeing him in person. He’d probably been worried sick. He’d probably been pulling his own hair out. He’d probably been… What was it Izuku said, when he was first warning you about Katsuki?

He’d probably been ready to lock you away somewhere so deep and somewhere so dark, you’d be lucky to ever see sunlight again. As long as it meant you were protected.

That didn’t mean you wanted to be locked away, though.

It was all you could do to keep your voice from shaking. You didn’t want Katsuki to lie to you just because he thought you might start crying, if he didn’t. “What happens if I don’t let you?”

He could only frown, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”

He didn’t want to. He’d never want to. Even if he did, even if he didn’t regret it, he’d never want to.

That already made him better than Izuku.

The slow, muted beat of the heart-monitor began to race as you leaped towards Katsuki, nearly falling off of your bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him against you burying your face in his chest, allowing Katsuki to tentatively pull you closer, too. You could’ve called for a nurse. You could’ve screamed. You could’ve done something to put yourself at arm’s length from anyone who wanted to keep you cornered and caged, but you didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t want that. You loved Katsuki. You loved him, and you’d missed him, and the only thing you wanted to do was fall into his arms and let him take care of you, regardless of how paranoid he’d gotten. You just wanted to know he’d be there, if someone like Izuku ever came after you again.

Everything else was a small price to pay, if he could just give you that.

“Please.” You didn’t try to hide your vulnerability, anymore, you didn’t try to hide anything. Tears were already clouding your vision, something jagged and tight burrowing into the back of your throat with every word, every painful thought. Katsuki moved to speak, to comfort you, but you didn’t let him. You didn’t want to be comforted.

You just wanted to feel safe.

"I just want to go home.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenario #yandere oneshot #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #commission #writing commission #yandere commission #boku no hero academia #boku no hero acadamia imagines #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #bnha imagines #my hero academia imagines #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #mha imagines #yandere izuku #izuku x reader #villain izuku #midoriya x reader #yandere midoriya #deku x reader #yandere deku #bakugo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[mittelfrank-divas]

Dance of the Black Heron chapter 3

In which Dorothea attempts to sort out how to teach Hubert to dance and words are exchanged. 

AO3 link here!

===

"No, no, no." Dorothea dropped the spoon that she'd been using to tap out a steady rhythm on the side of an overturned crate, letting it clatter onto the sun-bleached wood. "Are you dancing, or are you attempting to recite chapter five of our tactics textbook to Professor Byleth?"

Hubert dropped his stance to fold his arms together. Twenty-five minutes into their dance lesson, and he already felt sweaty and overly warm in his uniform. The afternoon sun beat down on them despite the mid-autumn season, making him regret his preference for black. His long hair was already starting to stick to his cheek on one side, and he was pretending not to notice this. "I do not understand the question."

Dorothea advanced on him across the small room. Well… "room" was a generous term for the location of their private lesson. Hubert had spent weeks sniffing out the more abandoned corners of Garreg Mach when they first arrived at school. The monastery grounds were a maze of ruins, both above ground and below, and many of the abandoned locations appeared to never be included on the guards' regular rounds. Of course, he had always imagined that when he utilized such hidden spaces, it would be for much more nefarious purposes than practicing for a dance competition.

The size and dimensions of this particular building were reminiscent of the knights' hall, but whatever use it had seen in centuries past was long since lost. The wood roof had long ago rotted and caved in, and no door remained in the doorframe. But the tile floor, once cleared of debris, made for a smooth enough surface to dance on without risk of tripping, despite weeds pushing up between a few of the cracks, and the brick walls offered some amount of privacy while they practiced. The open door faced away from the monastery, and the path here was overgrown enough to dissuade anyone from choosing to wander in this direction, so he could be confident that none would be nearby to witness his humiliation. In essence, they had their own private courtyard in which to stage their lessons.

Dorothea took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake, even though she had to reach up to do so. "You're too stiff! You look like a waiter in one of those fancy Enbarr restaurants where they fold the napkins to look like doves."

Strictly speaking, Hubert had hardly visited any restaurant, in Enbarr or anywhere else. Restaurants existed for those who were socializing or traveling, or who did not already dine in the actual Adrestian Palace, served by the royal family's own chefs. But he had a vague impression of what she was describing. "And I am to understand that that is a bad thing."

Dorothea's hands flew to her head in a dramatic fashion. "Yes! The point of dancing is movement! You cannot move and be rigid as stone at the same time. The scowling doesn't help, either."

Hubert felt himself flush. "I was merely concentrating."

Dorothea pursed her lips sympathetically, but her voice retained some of its impatient edge. "Concentration is important, but you'll need to learn not to let that show on your face. The judges want to see a smile. Can you do that, Hubie? Do you know how to smile?"

With some effort, Hubert conjured the most pleasant smile his face could allow.

Dorothea visibly recoiled, her hands leaving Hubert's shoulders so she could step back. "Never mind. You look like you intend to flay me alive. Don't smile like that at the judges, alright?"

Hubert tried to ignore the sting that her comment induced. "I was not intending to be sinister." Not at this exact moment, anyway.

"I've never met someone who could be threatening by accident, but somehow you manage it." Dorothea threw herself back onto her seat and took up her spoon again. "Fine! Let's start from the top!" With that, she began drumming out a beat for him. With a groan, he went back to it.

It surprised Hubert how quickly the dance came back to him. He had not even thought about waltzing for years, let alone put it into practice. His feet still remembered the steps, his shoulders still remembered how to set themselves as though preparing to cradle another in his arms. The basic mechanics of it were really quite straightforward.

And yet he could feel Dorothea's eyes on him, evaluating his every movement. The steady drumming of her spoon on the crate provided a simple enough beat for him to keep time to, but it was a grating sound, one that reminded him with every strike that he was not simply one dancer among a crowd. He was alone on an empty floor, foolishly dancing along to cutlery. Could the entire school hear the noise? Would a face appear in that open doorway any moment? He felt horribly foolish and woefully exposed.

"Augh, just stop!" Dorothea suddenly snapped, the spoon slamming down on the crate. "Honestly, could you look any more miserable? You act like you don't even want to be here."

Hubert bent over to catch his breath, hands on his thighs. There was a reason that he devoted most of his energy toward magic, something that allowed him to stand perfectly still while still fighting with deadly force. "This may come as some shock, but no part of this experience delights me. I am here for my duty, nothing else."

"Really? You think I love being here, pretending to be happy about you getting chosen over me?" Something in Dorothea's voice broke. Hubert tilted his head up to look at her through the sweaty bangs hanging in his face, and realized that she was on her feet, hands clenched at her sides.

He stood upright, hands still clutching at the stitch in his side. Hellfire, was he out of shape. "Is that what you think this situation is?"

Dorothea snorted. "At least have the decency to be honest with me. You and Edie just couldn't have your class represented by a commoner, could you?"

Hubert would have laughed, if he had the breath for it. Instead he merely stared at her in confusion. "Where in Cichol's cursed name did you get that idea?"

"Come on, Hubie. We both know I'm the best dancer in our class. And you come to me with the flimsiest of excuses for why I wasn't chosen? That you need me to concentrate on learning magic? Dancing is a magic class! There is no reason I couldn't do both." Furious tears were pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill. "I'm not an idiot, Hubie. I know there are plenty of people who think I don't deserve to be here. And maybe that would be enough to sully our house's reputation, having someone like me represent us. I just thought you and Edie were above that sort of thing."

Hubert tried to work out where exactly this situation had gone horribly wrong and saw that he'd mishandled it from the start. He should have seen how this would look to her. He straightened his jacket and laced his hands behind his back, feeling that he owed her at least some proper manners. "On the contrary, the thought of watching you outmatch those pitiful nobles and inflict upon them the shame of failure that they have too rarely encountered in their wretched lives fills me with a joy that I rarely know. Yes, you are in every sense the ideal candidate for this competition, and the Black Eagles would be proud to have you represent us. Not despite your origins. Your unique experience is exactly what makes you so adept at what you do. You know what it is to hone your skill for professional use, not as some parlor trick. It was not I who argued against your candidacy, nor was it Lady Edelgard. It was the professor's preference."

Dorothea processed this quietly, her green eyes fixed on something behind him, her arms crossed defensively. "I really thought they believed in me more than that."

"They do," Hubert said flatly, not wishing to obscure the message with what might seem to be insincere reassurance. "Enough to ensure that you do not deviate from your aspirations. Dorothea, why exactly did you come to the officer's academy? Gaining admission while working full time as a Songstress could not have been an easy task."

Dorothea sniffled, giving a dismissive shrug. "Oh, you know. A school filled with Fodlan's wealthiest young noble bachelors? How could I pass up an opportunity like that?"

Hubert rested his chin on his palm, letting his gaze drift to the tall, sun-dappled grass outside the door. "If that is your goal, then it's certainly not the worst plan for going about it. In fact, I would call it downright shrewd. But of course, the fact that you would also be learning skills here that could be used in any number of positions in the future must have crossed your mind. A backup plan, as it were."

Dorothea snorted, though it came out more as a sniffle. "I mean, what gal wouldn't want to learn how to strike a guy with lightning whenever he gets a bit handsy?"

"Indeed, but you could have learned that in Enbarr. There are other schools, easier schools to access." Dorothea said nothing, impulsively reaching to fix her long hair, as if it were ever anything less than perfectly coiled about her shoulders. Hubert persisted. "I have read your application."

Her gaze snapped back to him, wide-eyed. "But that's--"

"Highly confidential, of course. I don't trust just anyone to have such free access to Lady Edelgard. I need to know just who is sitting behind her chair every day." It had not, in fact, been a remotely easy task to gain access to the academy's records. Hubert was still trying to puzzle out where the bishops hid their archives. Fortunately, Professor Byleth was not quite so paranoid about the files they were given, and so he had managed to leaf through the documentation on the Black Eagles. Would that the other two professors could give him such ready access to their own classes.

"It's also very rude," Dorothea muttered.

"I do not tend to concern myself with what is polite." Hubert felt a faint smirk tug at his lips. "Quite an impressive application, actually. Your test scores were average, but your essays were most engaging. You have a practicality that many others lack. You do not allow the big picture, as it were, to blind you to facts. You have valuable insights that our class needs."

Dorothea flushed, looking away from him. For someone who seemed to thrive on attention, she did not seem to know what to do with this sort of praise. She sighed impatiently. "Is there a point to all of this, or are you just heaping compliments on me so I'll drop it?"

"My point, Dorothea, is that you did not come to the officer's academy just to be a Songstress by a different name. The professor fears that making you a Dancer would send a signal that you are valued only for your appearance. That it would lead you to limit yourself. Frankly, I would be inclined to disagree, had I not seen you in action."

"They said that?" Her voice hitched a bit when she said it.

"That is what they told me. That they want to see you succeed as a gremory, a class that very few ever manage to achieve. Though I do not agree with our professor on every front, their instincts on our class composition have been largely accurate. Do not think I haven't noticed you studying the chapter on Meteor, a spell so complex that I doubt even Linhardt would be bothered to learn it."

She gave him a startled glance, but did not deny it.

Hubert nodded to her. "So I ask you again: why did you come to the officer's academy? If you are happy remaining as a Songstress, if you would be satisfied only to become a Dancer and nothing else, then I will gladly end this farce and accompany you to persuade Professor Byleth to change their mind. But if you came here to prove something, as I suspect you did, then I would be remiss to allow you to make such a sacrifice."

Her eyebrows arched disbelievingly. "Hubie, that almost sounded generous of you."

He chuckled. "Lest you mistake my actions for kindness, allow me to remind you that I seek only to ensure that Lady Edelgard's people are maximizing their potential."

"Right, of course. You could not possibly be trying to help your friends achieve their dreams the way you're always talking about helping Edie with hers." She was smiling now, even as she wiped at the corner of her eye with her sleeve. "To answer your question, I... I don't know if I have just one answer for you. But I do know that I have been around simpering nobles my whole life. And I would give just about anything for the chance to wipe the smile off their faces. And beating them at their own game? Learning the spells that all their fancy tutors and expensive libraries couldn't teach them? I'd like that very much."

Hubert smirked in triumph, and offered her a low bow. A proper bow, the likes of which he normally reserved only for Edelgard. "Then, Miss Arnault, I suggest a trade. I will help you reach your goal if you help me reach mine. Teach me to survive this blasted competition and I promise that all I know of magic is at your disposal."

Dorothea laughed. "Okay, okay, no need to turn this into the opening of an epic drama. Though... hmm. I think I have an idea of how we're going to present you now. You are actually quite charming in your own way, Hubie. There's no reason to try to cover it up with a fake smile."

Now it was Hubert's turn for skepticism. "Somehow I doubt there is much charm for you to find."

Dorothea waved him off. "Oh hush, you'll see what I mean soon enough. Anyway, we're focusing on your stance right now. Here, take my hand." She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder and held out the other for him to hold.

He surveyed her in confusion. "Does the contest not require each contestant to be performing alone?"

Dorothea huffed. "Yes, despite the waltz being a couple's dance. It's a silly requirement, really. But right now you're letting your nerves get in the way of your movement. You need to stop being so embarrassed about me watching you. So let's take out the audience factor entirely. There is nobody left to watch if we're both participating, right?"

Hubert sighed as his gloved hand took hers, the other resting lightly on her waist. "Perceptive, as ever."

She grinned up at him. "That's why I'm your teacher. Now, you lead. Teach me to waltz as though it's my first time. I'm a lowly commoner who's never been allowed to join in on such a high class dance before."

Hubert chuckled at her, pulling them into a slow, steady rhythm. Dorothea followed smoothly, exposing her lie for what it was. "Does that work on the brainless nobles you seduce? Pretending to be clueless?"

"Some of them." She smirked, unapologetic. It was harder to match each other's steps without music, but Dorothea was a professional. She adjusted to Hubert's pace, reading his body language well enough to anticipate his steps. "Good. Loosen your grip on my hand a bit. You're directing me, not pulling me like a dog on a leash."

"Quite the analogy."

Her head quirked in an approximation of a shrug. "You'd be surprised how necessary that comparison is. Far too many noblemen can't tell the difference."

"Not as surprised as you might think." He complied with her instruction, letting her hand simply rest in his rather than gripping it.

"Better, but you're still too rigid. You're worrying too much about what I'm doing. Dancing with someone is about trust. Which I know is in short supply with you."

"What gave you that impression?" Hubert tried not to stare down at her feet, certain that he was about to tread on her toes.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this, but my eyes are up here." She laughed at his startled look. "Trust, Hubie! You need to trust me that I know how to keep up with you. And you need to trust yourself. You know these steps, right?"

Hubert studiously kept his eyes on hers, realized his hand had tightened around hers again, and pointedly loosened it. "Knowing and doing are not the same."

Dorothea sighed. "Alright, stop. New plan. I'm cashing in that magic lesson right now."

Hubert let his hands fall away from hers as she stepped back, and tried very hard to keep pace with Dorothea's shifting moods. "I did not realize you were in such a hurry to learn."

"I am now. The wall makes a good enough target, right?" She moved to stand beside him so that they both faced the same direction, with only a wall of bare brickwork ahead of them. "So? What's the most basic Dark magic you know? What's the spell you can cast in your sleep?"

Hubert regarded her. "You are aware that Dark magic and Black magic are quite different, I'm sure. Black magic utilizes the elements, while Dark magic draws on something more internal and primal."

Dorothea sighed impatiently. "I have read chapter one of the textbook, yes, thank you Hubert. Show me anyway."

Hubert puffed out a breath. At least this would be a respite from his stumbling around. "Alright. The simplest Dark attack is Miasma Δ. It goes like this." It was easy. So easy to gather the dark magic in his chest. To draw his hand across his body as he muttered the incantation, feeling the cold sting of power spreading its tendrils down the length of his arm. To flick his fingers outward just as the magic reached them, casually lobbing a sphere of crackling darkness at the bare wall. The impact resonated with the magic's hollow sound, leaving a blackened scorch mark on the bricks. How strange that trying to dance had felt like wading through waist-deep mud, but casting this spell felt like stepping back onto dry land, as light and easy as walking on a summer day.

"Hmm." Dorothea experimentally moved her hand across her chest. "Like this?"

"Palm inward. Arm parallel with the floor." He reached over and tilted her elbow up a few degrees. "You want to draw the magic in toward your hand before you expel it. If you allow your arm to droop, you risk casting at the floor rather than at your target."

Dorothea imitated his movements, right down to a small flourish in her wrist that, strictly speaking, was not a necessary addition to the spell, but that Hubert habitually added on principle. "And your feet? Do you step forward with your right or your left?"

"Always lead with your casting side."

"Right. Of course." She practiced the motions again. Hand across the chest, elbow out, step forward, flick of the wrist. Again and again she repeated the steps, imitating him perfectly without the actual orb of magical darkness firing from her hand. And then she tried it again using the other hand.

"Dorothea, what are you doing?"

Dorothea flicked one hand in front of herself and then another. "What's it look like?"

Hubert crossed his arms. "It looks like you are being very smug."

She grinned, but did not stop her impromptu dance routine, working in much more hip sway than the original spell called for. "Don't I have a right to be? I'm finding all your secrets, Hubie."

He could not help the amused smirk that crossed his face. "I very much doubt that."

"Well I've found one, anyway. You are a good dancer when you're not getting in the way of yourself. We just have to draw it out of you. What is spellcasting other than a very precise dance routine with a purpose?" She did a careless twirl, her hair fanning out around her. It looked so effortless.

"Ah yes, deadly magical force is naught but prancing about." Hubert watched as Dorothea spun the movements he had taught her into an intricate routine that grew with each new iteration. Here he was, betrayed by his own lesson.

She came to a standstill, grinning in triumph. Whereas Hubert felt bedraggled and exhausted by dance, she looked invigorated, her peach skin glistening radiantly. "From now on, we'll warm up our sessions with a magic lesson. It's something you're already confident in, so it'll get you into the mindset you need. Come on now, let's get back to it. We've got lots of time yet before the sun goes down."

Hubert groaned, casting his eyes up at the treacherously clear blue sky, still shining bright with the low evening sun. If only he believed in the Goddess, he might be tempted to beg her to nudge it towards the horizon just a bit faster.

#hubert von vestra #dorothea arnault #black eagles #fanfic #dance of the black heron #indigo's ferdibert got me hyped to finish this part!

[sunareii]

OSAMU MIYA ─ GULLIBLE

sypnosis. you know you have it bad when you let yourself hope of every possibilities, what’s equally worse is people giving you hope, either from your friends, your crush themselves or even you and that’s not the worse part ─ it’s believing them

genre. unrequited love, moving on, slice of life

wordcount. 1.2k

�� AS I’LL EVER BE ─ CHAZ CARDIGAN

words can’t express how he felt humiliated from his own unharmful doings of believing. and since then he never gives love a chance to tempt him to love in such a ridiculous amount again. not when his heart still aches at the thought of his past with you.

it was simply your highschool puppy love — as atsumu would call it — osamu wasn’t sure when it started but he can recall how you suddenly looked ethereal in his eyes.

it was a day during a memorable spring time. osamu was generally doing his routine after school, walking home with his brother whilst smelling the great fragrance of the season of awakening. he looks down from the mount he was in. in that moment, he was witnessing the most beautiful sight that could affect his entire love-life.

you were under the cherry blossom tree with some of your friends, laughing and playfully hitting each other. baby pink petals slowly showering your head yet stills softly slides down to your hair. your appeal and kind smile made him so drawn to you and it surely didn’t help when he got to know you. he stopped moving his legs to look at you, radiating bubbliness. atsumu calls for him to hurry up in the background for osamu to completely ignore. he keeps his eyes on you, only to be surprised when you looked at him back, smiling before giving him a big wave that osamu has to look around of who were you waving at and the answer lies on him.

spring not only blooms flowers but alsohis affection for you.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to be closer in friendship, considering that you did the first action and it didn’t even matter whether the two of you had the same classes or not. osamu would come to your class and ask you to test one of his food creations which you’re always happy to try ‘cause.. well.. it’s food!

on the other hand, you would come to his practices even if you had any club activities or not. you also came to one of his games in a tournament one or two and osamu is always grateful for your prescence. it also didn’t take long for his brother to pick up on how osamu feels about you and the latter was occasionally held up to torture with atsumus teasing.

osamu really loved you, the smile you make when you see something you’re absolutely passionate about has his heart throbbing, the hum of satisfaction when you eat one of his cooking had to be one of the things that sounds like melody to him, your adorable giggles being the number one though.

he mistakenly thought he was making progress with you as months passed. he notices the small physical touches you did to him and it made him feel gooey inside.

while walking home from school, osamu thought he’d hear another relentless teasing from atsumu but instead came a statement that osamu wished he didn’t held on for so long in his heart. “you know, i think y/n likes you back”

osamu internally chuckles at the idea like he had never thought of it before, he proceeds to deny it “you’re speaking nonsense, ‘tsumu” atsumu was probably blind at the little smile his twin was attempting to resist.

“no seriously, hear me out! don’t they seem alot more er.. jolly around you?” atsumu started. osamu scoffed at him “they’ve always been like that”

“nowadays they seem to skip whatever they were doing just to come to your game? you saw what happened earlier right?” atsumu questions

it was about during one of their plays in the gym in the same day the regrettable conversation took place. you were sitting in one of the benches watching them play. osamu would catch a glimpse of you giggling at who knows what and at the time he presume you were snickering at him which always end up of him staring at you for too long only for atsumu or mostly kita to have his head back in the game.

“i’m pretty sure they thought of something funny to themselves”

atsumu continuous to blabber examples of your possible languages of your attraction to the grey haired miya. during that night, osamu nonstops toss and turning himself in his bed with a smile.

then comes, what now he calls, the dreadful day

it’s the day where he hated himself in every way possible, the embarrassment still washes over him like waves of the ocean every time he something reminded of him of this sad day.

the confession was like a sudden bolt of lightning, something that shocks him, something that made his hearing numb in which he could only his sharp impulse.

“kita and i are dating!”

osamu felt stupid, he felt his dignity and confidence plummeted. it was difficult to face you or even himself or anyone at all after that. atsumu could only symphatize at his other half, he, afterall reckons himself as one of what lead osamu on.

the weight of guilt and remorse clings into him until now, years later and now he has established his dream restaurant. osamu couldn’t see you much even if he wanted to since you’re busy helping his upperclassman with his own work. sometimes atsumus voice would chime inside his head for time to time.

“you haven’t moved on from them yet?” it spoke, no maliciousness are intended when atsumu asked him about it.

‘samu can’t blame him for asking and instead of a confident no, what comes is a broken yes

he didn’t know what could’ve happen if he wasn’t so hopeful then, if he had never expected something more to happen, or atleast if the two of you kept in touch then maybe he would still be comfortable to face you.

osamu stops walking down the street in a mediocre autumn day as he sees a familiar face at the street next to him. of course, it was you, who else could make him stop in his tracks? you were glowing with grace, the sight somehow similar to the time he first fell inlove with you ─ you haven’t noticed him yet, maybe it’s better that way — yet it only felt nostalgic, something he’d miss but can’t really come back to.

maybe he doesn’t love you anymore, ‘cause now when he looks at you, he just feels shame of how much he hoped for a connection, a result he aimed for. it isn’t the sweet yet agonizing feeling of butterflies in his stomach or the desire to have you in his arms anymore.

to answer atsumus question, yes, he has finally moved on from his feelings for you — or maybe he had moved on a long time ago? — osamu just haven’t moved on from his feelings towards himself.

it makes sense, he had only been mad and disgraced at himself for his foolishness. love and hope could either wish for you the best or just hurt you like that, unfortunetely for osamus case, there was more hope then love in what he was craving for.

osamu internally gives a soft, almost sorrowful but he doesn’t let it get through, laugh then a smile paints his lips. “heh, was i so gullible?” he thoughts to himself

he looks at you for the second time before continuing his stroll, letting the autumn leaves fall against him, he nods while holding a giggle coming from his mouth. “yeah, i was gullible” he says to hope

#osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x reader angst #osamu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x you #haikyuu angst #haikyuu osamu miya #osamu miya fic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu osamu miya x reader #haikyuu osamu #atsumu #osamu miya angst

[grimoireofwritings]

Hiii again!! I cant get enough with ur writing. Please if u dont mind making one., again? UMM where Langris is very jealous to the black bull bcoz his s/o (fem) (a member of black bull) and shes very close with them. Or just along the lines? Thank you agaaain!!

Hello again my dear!! No need to apologize, you can send in as much as your heart desires. I am deeply sorry this is sooooo shamefully late. Chronic health difficulties have gotten a bit complicated lately and I'm trying to be more consistent with this blog. Hopefully the scenario was worth the wait!

Also I headcanon William is the squad's therapist on many occasions, you can't change my mind 💀

Scenario: Langris Vaude's fem s/o is in the black bulls.. and he's jealous!!

No matter how much he pushed the aching itch at the front of his mind away, or brushed aside the little intrusive thoughts he experienced day by day, sometimes even going so far as to manifest them in little growls of frustration and the tightening of his jaw... Langris Vaude was failing horribly... Miserably, even, to set aside his personal emotions regarding the whereabouts of his partner.

She... With those gorgeous (e/c) sparkling hues that always lit up at the sight of something she loved.. and the way the sunlight often glimmered so flawlessly against the soft sheen of her hair - was far too beyond his reach for his comfort. Not only that, it completely wracked at his nerves on a daily basis.. that he... That person.. got to see her and her beauty far more than Langris ever did.

His brother. And the black bulls in general. So unworthy of her presence, her stunning grace. Not only that, he knew about his damn brother. And even he had to admit that he'd be a blind fool not to recognize such a gorgeous woman in his proximity. Considering that shameless flirting habit, it made him grit his teeth knowing that Finral was inevitably wooing her on a daily basis. Beyond his control.

"Does he even realize how lucky he is to be graced with her mere presence?? So undeserving.."

This had been Langris' current obsession for about a month now, and it haunted him, even going as far as losing sleep against his own will. It was getting to the point that he was grinding his teeth and mumbling to himself, much to the dismay and terror of his subordinates as he passed them by in the HQ's long hallways... Probably fearing for their lives being so close to his dangerous aura, permeating off of him like a toxin.

But after one last all-nighter of complete mental torture, he was done in, he had finally caved. It took a lot, and I mean a shit load of stress to force Langris into swallowing his pride. Something he was about to do that morning.

He knew Captain Vangeance was up, even at this ungodly hour. The man seemed to enjoy getting up at the crack of dawn to get a head start on his work load, for the sake of having spare time in the evenings to tend to his private garden. Yet here was he, concerningly deep and dark bags under his eyes, as he paced and debated with himself outside the Captain's door to his office, feeling held back by his own dignity on the line to actually knock.

Eventually though, his choice was made for him, as his mumbling was interrupted by the door opening up. There was his Captain, the same trademark amiable smile on his face as he appeared before him, seemingly in a bit of a preoccupied hurry. He halted completely though upon spotting his Vice Captain, raising a brow, before his expression immediately faltered into a look of concern at the sight of Langris appearing so unhinged. Was something going on that he had failed to notice?

"Langris, good morning. You look troubled. Is there something I can help you with?" He tilted his head expectantly, a friendly and welcoming look in his eyes behind that mask of his. Langris bit his lip.. somehow the open offer made him feel even more on edge than he'd expected. Geez.. why did his Captain have to be such an insufferable softie??

Giving a few reluctant grumbles, the shorter spacial mage gave a slow nod. "Yeah... I came for some.. advice" he said, begrudgingly managing to spit out the last word distastefully. And to his slight surprise, Vangeance didn't hesitate to give a nod and he opened up the door to his office, offering the space for the two of them. "Of course. Step inside."

There was a bit of an awkward quietness as they did just that, Langris being sure to avoid eye contact - as he instead focused on the sensation of a crisp breeze passing by through the opened windows and the faint scent of the flowers William cared for in his office. It brought "life" to the space, the Captain had said.. it had made Langris scoff.

He watched Vangeance approach his desk, but instead of circling around to take a seat, he settled for leaning back against the wooden mahogany top, letting it support his weight. "Alright. What's on your mind?" He asked. It honestly sometimes amazed Langris how the Captain managed to speak in a way that was both gentle and calming, yet straightforward and confident.

"I... Have.... A girlfriend..." He started after an agonizingly long pause. Each word seemed so painfully difficult to force out through gritted teeth. But after another few passing moments, the image popped into his tormented mind again. Finral... That ridiculous, stupid, idiotic grin on his face as he flirted in the most unbecoming, disrespectful way to his precious y/n. And that was it - his resolve broke. And his insecurities became less important than his need to vent.

"She's with the black bulls. She's a magic knight under Yami and... Sometimes I just get so pissed off that my damn good for nothing brother gets to spend far more time with her than I ever can. I'm so busy and swamped with work here that I hardly even have time to make plans.. and take her on dates. I want to treat her with the respect and care she deserves, but.. I can't. And that makes me afraid."

He was gritting his teeth, utterly humiliated as tears began to prick his eyes. Why? He figured it was probably because he hadn't actually talked about his feelings with someone in ages. Perhaps he'd repressed more than he realized.

"Afraid she'll abandon you for something or someone else..?" William prompted gently. And Langris nodded. "Yeah.. I mean, my brother. We all know he was the one out of my family that our peers preferred. I was better, I was praised, I was rewarded on a materialistic level for talent. But I was never.. liked. In the way he was. With that whole soft hearted sensitive guy display. She's around him, all day, every day.. and I just... I..."

He finally cracked a bit more and planted his face in his hands, unable to finish. Completely destraught. And he was forced in that moment to face his own inner ugliness - the insecurities and jealousy he felt so much shame for harboring at all.

William gave him a brief moment, both to ensure he had finished saying all he needed to express, and to truly consider those words. He hummed. "I see. It seems this is something that's been deeply disturbing you and impacting your health, even. A very painful and helpless situation, by the sound of it. It pains me to see you so destraught, Langris."

For a moment, as Vangeance removed his mask and placed it neatly beside him, Langris mistook a look of sympathy and empathy in those eyes for something as disgusting as pity. And he snapped, making an impulsive remark in his state of frightened vulnerability.

"Whatever. As if you have any experience with women to begin with, what with that face-"

He halted abruptly before he could finish. No, that was unacceptably harsh. "I apologize." He mumbled, a moment later. William Vangeance sighed deeply, brushing off the remark. It clearly stung but he was far more concerned about his underling than himself at that moment. "You're forgiven, Langris."

The Vice Captain began to shuffle and twitch nervously, this was going so much worse than he even thought possible. But that changed with William's next words.

"Langris. I think you ought to have a little more faith in your partner's judgement, and her decision making. Despite all the time she spends with the black bulls, and your brother, she still chose you, above them. She developed those special feelings for you, and at the end of the day, you are her person.. the person she loves. Trust that judgement of hers, and that she hand selected you for a reason. Women are smart like that, they hardly waste their time with someone they aren't interested in. I am positive she cherishes you, and thinks of you, every day."

He smiled, and even approached his subordinate with a warmth in his expression. "I think.. perhaps it would reassure you to reach out to her, a bit more. She understands you have a lot of responsibility, but with women, I've definitely perceived that they appreciate even the smallest gestures immensely. Send her hand written notes, flowers, or even sweets. Whatever you know she likes the most, and would appreciate as a gesture of affection. It will remind her that you're thinking of her, and likewise, I'm positive she will respond to you in a way that provides you some peace of mind. Rekindle that romance, and maybe even.. consider opening up to her about your feelings, like you have right now."

Langris interrupted, shaking his head stubbornly. "No. Then she'll know how weak I am" he stated. Vangeance chuckled, his smile softening. "Hmm.. I disagree. I can garuntee you that she will perceive such vulnerability as trust. She'll see that you trust her integrity to confide in her. That will strengthen your relationship with her more than anything else. I promise.. just try it once, and tell me how it works out."

Langris puffed a sigh through his cheeks. "Fine... Fine. Fine." He repeated the word, each time a bit more in defeat. "Listen.. I'll try it, but only because I'm desperate. And because I want to, not because you told me to."

With that, William held back a grin of amusement, and he nodded in satisfaction. "Of course. Hopefully, that will help you out. But besides that.. I think I'm going to give you some time off. Go see her, and spend some quality time by her side. I think it would do you some good."

Langris raised a brow, seemingly a bit confused. "But Captain, all my work-" he was interrupted by a hand, that was held upwards with a sense of finality. "No buts. Besides... Your quality of work is suffering anyway due to your current state of health. I'd rather you go take care of yourself first, then return to finish up your tasks properly. Until then, I'll take care of things. You have my word that everything will be fine."

Langris took a few long moments to ponder this, and his Captain's gesture. He started to realize more and more, working alongside Vangeance, why his squad was so fiercely loyal to him, and that their team was so successful to begin with.

"Alright. I'll accept your offer. Vangeance..."

He glanced up at his Captain sheepishly as he followed the scarred man towards the exit of his office.

"Thank you. Very much."

#langris vaude #black clover imagine #black clover scenario #black clover #scenario #william vangeance #the golden dawn #golden dawn

[smittenswithmittens]

What does it mean to be, a ‘good person’?

I have nightmares every night; about things that have happened. Things that I’m afraid of happening. Twisted visions of long forgotten, blacked out trauma, which cause me to wake up crying, shaking…the bed drenched in sweat.

I feel sick and scared every single morning when I wake up. Sometimes I remember little bits from the dreams, slight details, but they are so vivid I can’t establish what is dream and what is reality; what is a genuine memory, what is my mind trying to piece together jigsaw pieces of deeply suppressed information…what is purely fictional nonsense.

I am in the process of beginning counselling with a charity that specialises in speaking to victims of sexual assault and abuse. I am terrified that they won’t believe me, or blame my past BPD-related impulsive behaviours for the ways I have been treated by men over the past thirty-two years. They will say, ‘you shouldn’t walk home alone’, ‘you shouldn’t drink too much’, ‘you shouldn’t be so naive’.

I grew up under the impression that there were Good, and Bad people. And you would know the difference instantly if you saw the two compared. ‘Bad’ people would look scary - sort of like that stereotypical ‘Robber Red’ character, with a mask and a stripy jumper and a black sack. ‘Good’ people were friendly and caring and had families and careers and whatever else…

I suppose now that I am ‘grown up’, I swing in my opinions of everybody I meet. So, I guess a part of me fights those feelings of seeing a person in extremes, and thus try to believe that, even in the worst people, there is some inherent goodness in them…they have their own past and experiences which have led them to make the decisions they make, and they at least WANT to be…their own version of ‘moral’. If I am taken advantage of, or mistreated by another person, I constantly try to justify their behaviours in my head - convincing myself that I must somehow be the person at fault, or that I am Evil. I deserve any pain and misery that is thrown at me.

I am in no way insinuating that I am innocent, or that I’ve never made a mistake or mistreated somebody else…quite the opposite. I HATE myself, and how my mental illness takes over my life; seemingly damaging everybody who comes into contact with me.

But…I also want to acknowledge that, despite making mistakes, nobody deserves to be abused like that. I don’t deserve it, just like you don’t deserve it. No child deserves to be touched intimately by an adult. No teenager deserves to be raped because they’re wearing a skirt. And equally, if a mentally ill person overreacts to a situation, or they confuse someone with their emotional reactions…they don’t deserve to be screamed at, assaulted, belittled, publicly shamed and humiliated, or taken advantage of in any way, shape or form. No, you cannot simply overlook bad behaviour purely because the person is unwell. It is acceptable to voice your opinion; in a calm, collected manner. You can remove that person from your life should you find they are negatively affecting your own mental health or provoking aggressive emotional reactions.

But…abuse is abuse. I am trying hard not to witness people as inherently Good or Bad. Deserving and undeserving. Seeing the news today on the television, seeing the atrocities that take place every day…I don’t even know if there is such a thing as right and wrong. I no longer want to see myself as - ‘mentally ill, therefore, deserving of abuse’. I’m trying to recognise, using logic and a posteriori knowledge, that I will always have this illness that forces me to see things in a black-and-white manner…but I should fight against that urge to categorise the people I meet in such a basic, archaic way. Making a decision about a person should be a lengthy process; judging by their behaviour and actions over a long span of time.

In doing so, I want to be able to fully take responsibility for my past behaviours - and learn from my mistakes, recognising what my various triggers are and not making attachments to individuals or projects unless I am confident that I am in a stable mindset. But also, I want to come to terms with the fact that there will be always people who act cruelly towards others - regardless of whether they have a reason - and my living in shame and guilt for so many years, doesn’t help me, nor does it ultimately make what they did any better. There are ways to address conflict and confusion without violence and aggression. I want to treat people with respect, but also, expect the respect I deserve returned from other people.

Communication is so important, especially when dealing with an individual who is suffering internally. If your child gets upset and has a tantrum, you don’t beat them over the head and blame the fact that they were reacting inappropriately and causing a scene. Strangling an over-excitable dog doesn’t help the dog to understand what it has done wrong.

I have never really noticed before how poorly human beings treat each other. Animals. The planet. I’m not just saying this because I have a mood disorder. I genuinely wish more people would start communicating with each other and showing the respect that everybody deserves.

I don’t know if I will ever be a ‘Good’ person. But I can at least attempt to be respectful and compassionate, and straightforward about my needs when it comes to being honest with the people around me. I spent a long time trying to please everybody and be perfect…but ended up disappointing people with my inconsistencies and fallacies - creating an external persona I didn’t like or respect. Perhaps that’s why I felt it acceptable when people showed me such disrespect. I dunno.

Cigarette time.

Goodnight.

X

#morality #good #bad #evil #inherent #philosophy #moral #bpd blog #bpd recovery #borderlinepersonalitydisorder #anxiety #paranoia #complex ptsd #post traumatic stress syndrome #eupdawareness #actually eupd #depression #manic depression #bpd mood #mood disorders #nightmare #dreams #sleepless #sleep #night sweats #physical assault #sexualassault #abuse #bipolar #selfworth

[emachinescat]

Does It Count as Eavesdropping if You’re Comatose?

A Psych Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 28 / alt. 3 - coma

Summary: They say people who are comatose can still hear what is going on around them.  This is what Shawn heard.

Characters | Relationships: Shawn, Henry, Gus, Juliet, Madeline, Lassiter, Jack, Despereaux, Buzz, Woody, Chief Vick | Shawn/Juliet

Words: 3,898

TW: coma

Note: I really hope you enjoy this piece.  It was one of the most emotionally taxing, cathartic, and fulfilling pieces I’ve written in a long time.  I hope that comes across when you read it.  

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Shawn?

Where’s the doctor?  I need to speak to him.  Busy, my ass!  My son is in a coma.  I get that you’re just doing your job.  Just… find me someone who can give me an update.  …  Please.

Hey, bud.  I, uh – 

Shit.

Shawn, for the love of – what the hell did you think you were doing?  Going off on your own like that, not telling anyone where you were going or what you were doing.  You knew these people were dangerous, and you still… I know I taught you better than this.

Why, why do you never listen? 

***

Hey, Shawn.  Don’t think that just because you’re in a coma right now that we’re going to let this go.  You’ve pulled some stupid-ass stunts in your time, but this … this takes the cake.  And you know you’re supposed to share any cake you get with me.  Fifty-fifty split.

We’re partners, Shawn.  Why did you go in alone?

Well, all I have to say is that you better wake up soon.  The doctors say they are cautiously optimistic that you’ll have a full recovery if you will just wake up.  We’re all well aware that you are the laziest time-waster in Santa Barbara, but just this once, will you prove us wrong?

…

Please, Shawn.  You’re my best friend.  I … I can’t lose you.  Just.  Just come back, okay?

***

The doctors said that you might be able to hear what we say to you.  In my experience, doctors always say that, but, I don’t know.  It seems a little weird, don’t you think?  I mean, the thought of you lying there, so still that you might be … you know.  Anyway.  To think that you could actually be hearing everything I’m saying right now is…

It’s actually a little bit embarrassing.  Gosh, why do I always ramble like a moron when I’m nervous?  This is worse than the movie theater, the first time I asked you out.  Remember that?  Now that was humiliating.  

I know your dad and Gus have probably already given you enough lectures to fill up a novel, so I won’t yell at you for being an impulsive, stupid idiot.  Not yet.

For now, Shawn – his hand is really cold; is that normal?  Should I call the doctor?  No? – just know that I love you, with all my heart.

And that if you don’t wake up soon, I’ll kill you myself.

***

Mr. Spencer.  

Shawn.

I… I apologize for not coming to see you sooner.  It’s no excuse, but we’ve been really busy.  God knows how you did it, but you somehow managed to still get us the evidence we needed to take these guys down, even on death’s door.  These monsters have been tormenting a lot of very good people for far too long, and until you… did what you did, our hands were tied.

I suppose what I am saying is thank you.

It was incredibly stupid, and I – we all – wish you had never done it, but… thank you.

Wake up soon.  That’s an order.  

Oh, hi, Henry – I was just stopping by for a moment.  How are you holding up?  Yes, I – 

***

Hey, Goose.

I would have been here sooner, but I was stuck in New York.  I was in for a conference, and my flight got delayed because of snow, but… but you don’t really want to hear about that, do you?

You look good, considering.  From the way your father talked, I thought you’d be wasting away.  But your color is good.  You don’t have that gray pallor I’ve seen so often in those who have given up.  

That means you’re still fighting.  And that’s good.

If you’re wondering where your dad is, don’t worry.  Juliet and Gus dragged him to the cafeteria for some actual food – or as close as you can get to real food in a hospital.  Your father… That man, Shawn, I just don’t think you know how much he cares about you.  Not that it’s your fault.  Henry has never been good at showing how he feels.  

Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I married him, so long ago.  Maybe I thought I could fix him.  But you can’t really fix people, can you, Goose?  Not the way you’d like to.  

The doctors are doing everything they can to fix you, Shawn.  So don’t give up.  

Oh, here comes your father –

He’s fine, Henry – did you eat something?  Gus, did he actually eat something?  What did he eat?  Henry Spencer, coffee is not food!  Good grief, I’ll be right back...

***

Oh, Guster!  I… I didn’t know you would be here.  I’ll just… I was in the wrong room, that’s all.  Yeah, I was just visiting an old friend of the family.  Who?  None of your business, actually.  Just a friend, who is not Spencer.

What do you mean, I should stay since I’m already here?  Guster, I have important things to do, cases to solve, people to see!  Well, I suppose… Just for a minute, do you understand me?  This is ridiculous… Spencer butts his nose into my case, breaks the whole thing open, and damn near dies in the process…  

Guster – where the hell are you going?  You can’t leave me alone with Spencer!  …  What do you mean, talk to him?  Are you insane?  I don’t want to talk to him when he’s awake, why would I –?

You don’t have to shout.  I’ll stay while you step out.  

But I won’t talk to him.

…

…

Well, Spencer, this is a fine mess you’ve put yourself in.  

I mean sweet justice, man, do you ever think about what you’re doing?  About how it will affect other people?  The people who love you?

Not me, of course.  You know I could care less about you.  But my partner, your girlfriend, for some unfathomable reason, has chosen to be with you.  To like you for – man, this is hard to say – to like you for who you are.  I mean, have you met you?  That’s something that should never have happened, especially not after all the stupid stunts you’ve pulled over the years.  

But it did.  She… Juliet, she cares about you.  A lot.  If you could see just how much she’s hurting right now… 

Spencer, I once told you that if you hurt my partner, I’d kill you.  Well, you’ve gone and done it.  But I’m a fair man.  Well, I can be a fair man if given the right circumstances.  Okay, fine, I’m not exactly fair, but I do care about Juliet, so I will give you an ultimatum: If you go ahead and wake up, if you put a smile back on her face, then I will let you live.  But you’ve got to do it soon, got it?  No lollygagging like you usually do.  Just…

Guster!  You cannot just sneak up on a man like that!  No, I wasn’t talking to Shawn, don’t be ridiculous.  I’m on the phone with someone … Bluetooth.  

What?  NO!  My eyes are not “misty.”  Good lord, man, not everyone is a crybaby like you.  No, I’m not staying any longer!  Dammit, Guster, I don’t care – 

***

Hey, Shawnie!  

Look, this is a little awkward, I know, especially since I haven’t really been in touch since the whole Buchard’s treasure incident, but when your father finally got ahold of me, I rushed right over.  Bygones, and all that, am I right?  

Anywho… I brought you a penny.  I know it’s not much, but this one’s special.  It’s a 1943 bronze Lincoln.  One of the rarest out there.  I’ve been holding onto it for a while, but I thought you could use a little luck.  Well, a little more than a little, but…

Anyway, kiddo.  I hate seeing you like this.  I’m getting ready to go cliff diving in Peru, but I’ll be here with you in spirit, you got that?  Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. 

Or do.  I guess if you’re doing something stupid, then you’re not sleeping anymore. 

Damn it.  I’m not good at this stuff.  

See ya around, kid.  

***

Hey, Shawn, my man!  Long time, no see, huh?  Do you mind if I eat something while we chat?  Want a bite?  It’s your favorite…

No?  Well, more for me, I suppose.

Hmmmm… your color looks less gray than last week.  Maybe the doctors are right, maybe you really are recovering, but… I don’t know.  Gah, I really wish they’d let me take a crack at you – ah, I mean, examine you, just in case, but… Apparently “someone who spends all day with the dead isn’t the right person to diagnose a living person, blah blah blah.”  Between you and me, friend, I think they’re hiding something from us.  It’s a conspiracy.  … Not like the Chief Vick is actually a time traveler conspiracy, mind you.  A real one.

Ah, whatever.  Whatever happens will happen, am I right, Shawn?  I have to say, you’re excellent company today!  I do miss your witty retorts, but you’ve got that comforting presence I’ve come to expect from my friends in the morgue.  They only get chatty when I haven’t slept for four days straight.  

Huh, you normally would’ve laughed at that.  

Anyway, keep on keeping on!  Whatever happens, whatever direction this thing ends up going, just know I’ve got your back.  And if you don’t make it in this world, well… let’s just say I picked out the perfect body bag to carry you into the next.  Spoiler alert: I embroidered this one myself!

Oh, and don’t forget!  I’ve called dibs on your autopsy, should it come to that!  Gosh, I can’t stop wondering if your heart really is going to be two sizes bigger than most.  I know it’s scientifically improbable, but you just love so damn much…

Ah!  Oh, Henry, you scared me!  I was just – no, I don’t have the body bag.  Promise.  Cross my heart and hope to – well, you know.  Little joke of the trade, hehe.  You’re not laughing – Shawn would have.

Okay, okay, I’m getting out, I’m leaving!  But if anything happens, you know that I – OW!  Okay, okay, yeah, got it.  Geez Louise, you’ve got a tight grip.  Did you arm wrestle in high school?  

***

Hey, Shawn.  How’s it going?

I mean, you’re in a coma, so I imagine it’s not great, but… I dunno, maybe it is.  Maybe it’s nice, wherever you’re at.

Say, I wonder if you’re in the place your psychic visions come from.  When you wake up, do you think you’ll be even more psychic than before?  That would be so cool…

Oh, Franny and Mrs. Pickles say hi.  She wanted to bake you a pie – Franny, of course, not Mrs. Pickles, he’s a cat – but I told her you were on a feeding tube, so she made me a pie instead.  It was blueberry.  One of the best pies I’ve ever tasted.  She told me to tell you that if, I mean when, you wake up, she’ll make you a pineapple upside down cake.  A whole one, just for you.

You’ve just got to wake up first, Shawn.

I … I really hope you wake up soon.  I miss seeing you around the station.  Heh, I even think Lassiter’s missing you.  He doesn’t say it so many words – or any words at all, for that matter – but he’s different.  Angrier, and I wasn’t even sure that was possible!  And he keeps glancing over at the front doors, like he’s expecting you to come waltzing in at any moment.  

Or, I dunno, maybe he ordered a pizza, but I’m betting he’s missing you, deep down.

We’re all missing you.  Get better soon, okay, buddy?

***

Well, kid.  It’s been five weeks.  You’ve always been a slowpoke in the mornings, but this is getting ridiculous.  

I’m running out of things to talk about.  Bet you’re not too broken up about that, huh?  Never did like to listen to what your old man had to say.  Still… you listened when it mattered.  Sometimes.  

I’m thinking about retiring again.  Karen’s trying to convince me to stay.  She says that she’s always got a place for me, that they may be bringing in a couple of temporary consultants in the next few weeks, to help lighten the caseload.  There’s a criminal profiler, a young woman who really knows her stuff, but Karen’s been holding off on hiring her.  Honestly, the girl’s good at what she does, but she doesn’t hold a candle to what you do.

Then again, she’s not an attention-seeking moron who runs head-first into danger without thinking of the consequences, but… she’s still not you.

Anyway, I told Karen I’d think about it, but I don’t know.  I’m getting old, kid.  I thought I wasn’t, I still felt pretty young, but recently… I don’t know.  The world just has a little less color in it than I remembered, and that’s what growing old looks like, isn’t it?  

If I retired, would you wake up?  If you didn’t have me “hovering” over you all day at work, would you finally come back?  I mean, I accepted the job in the first place to keep you safe, and that went to hell in a handbag.  Maybe I’m not so good at that job, after all.

Anyway, kid, you need to get off your lazy ass and wake up.

Believe it or not, I’m really starting to miss hearing your voice.

I love ya, kid.  And I want you back.

***

Shawn, you will not believe what came in the mail today!  

Seriously, guess.  

Come on… 

Dang it.  I really hoped that would get you curious enough to open your eyes.  

Anyway… something really did come in the mail.  Well, sort of.  I found it on your desk in the Psych office when I came in to check on things.  I’ve been advised that it might be a good idea to stop paying rent for an office I’m not using, but that feels like letting you go, like I’m giving up on you, and I’m not ready to do that.  So I’m going to keep paying that bill, okay?

But as I was saying, this envelope was just sitting on your desk!  Just your name on it, too.  At first I thought you were finally getting your Hogwarts letter, because it’s in a really fancy envelope.  It wasn’t, by the way.  Damn, I’m really rambling today.  Sorry.  I’m just … tired.  But I wanted to read you this letter before I head out to see a few more clients.  Here we go:

Dear Shawn,

It has come to my attention that you have been gravely injured and are in a coma in Santa Barbara Hospital.  My contact has informed me that you’ve been in this state for nearly two months now.  I am devastated to hear about this, and hope that by the time this letter finds you, you have awoken and are back to your normal self.  If not, then I can only hope that your friend Mr. Guster will be kind enough to read you this letter.

I regret that I was unable to visit you myself, but as I am currently wanted in no less than four countries, I thought it best to stay away from any place that is crawling with police officers.  I don’t know if you are aware of this, but between your lovely lady friend and her grumpy assistant, along with all of your other friends at the SBPD, you have an officer of the peace in your hospital room nearly around the clock.  And I know what you’re thinking – I made my name sneaking in and out of impenetrable places.  You would be right.  Perhaps I cannot face seeing you in such a terrible way with my own eyes.

You must recover soon!  I stole a lovely Van Gogh in your honor, but there was no way I could have mailed it to you without its being confiscated by the authorities.  I do think of you every time I see it upon my mantle.  

Sincerely,

Pierre Despereaux, Gentleman & Art Thief 

Did you hear that, Shawn?  Your iffy role model Despereaux is even worried about you.  I know that you would – for some reason – do anything to make that man proud.  So what do you say?  You ready to wake up yet?

…

Dammit, Shawn.  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

***

Hey, there, Goose.  

I know it’s been a while since I’ve visited, but I’m actually on a conference tour right now, and your father is keeping me up to date on all developments.  You look nice today – your father just gave you a shave, and though it’s not the most even of cuts, it makes you look more like yourself.  

So, your father called me yesterday in near hysterics.  He said that you had shown the first signs of waking – when your nurse took your blood, you pulled away.  For the first time since all this started, you reacted to something in your surroundings.  Of course, I flew right in.

You haven’t responded to anything since, though.  Shawn, I –

You know I love you, right?  I realize that I’ve never been the best at this sort of thing – at being a mother.  I know I didn’t always make the right decisions.  Even now, I…

I miss you, son.  If you can hear me at all – and I know that you can – please, please, just… whatever is trapping you in your own mind, whether it is fear or trauma or pain or … please, just.  Come back to us.  I – 

Oh, Henry, when did you get back?  No, you don’t have to leave, I –  No, no, I’m fine, I told you I’m fine, I – 

 – It’s all right, Maddie.  I’ve got you.  You don’t always have to be strong, you know. – 

***

Okay, Shawn, I know I normally try to keep things light and positive, but I don’t think I have it in me to do that today.  I’m sorry, I just…

Today sucked, you know?  Like, really sucked.  Well, if I’m being honest, the past seven months have sucked.  But today was extra special.  

I won’t burden you with all of the details, but work was difficult today.  Lassiter and I got assigned a tough case, and, well, it didn’t end up the way we’d hoped.  Long story short, we uncovered a dirty cop.  It was, um… do you remember Lawson?  He worked in narcotics.  Turns out he’s done some things … hurt some people.  He wasn’t always accountable out in the field, and some things came to light.  Anyway.  It’s a mess.

And then there’s this whole thing with you.  I just … every time it looks like you’re making improvements, you just … you just retreat back into yourself, and I feel like I’m losing you more every day.  I promised you when this all started, on day one, that I would wait for you, that I would be patient, and I’m trying, but…

It’s not that I want to leave you or anything.  Not at all.  My patience is just wearing thin, and I can’t sleep and night and every day I wake up terrified to look at my phone, because what if I have a message that you’ve woken up, but that you don’t remember me at all?  Or worse, what if I get a message that you’ll never wake up again?  

Our bed feels empty.  I sleep with Mr. Snuggles every night, though – do you remember Mr. Snuggles, you know, the bear you won me at the fair when we started dating?  He’s soft, but he’s wearing a bit thin.  I guess holding a stuffed animal like it’s a lifeline every night for over half a year will do that, but I’m afraid he’s going to break soon.

I think… 

I think I’m already broken, Shawn, and I can’t – 

I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… I just miss you.

Did you know that I kiss you every night before I leave?  Nothing fancy, just a single, light kiss on the lips.  Sometimes I pretend that you’re the damsel in distress and I’m Prince Charming, and I almost manage to convince myself that when I pull back, your eyes will be fluttering open to look at me, like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty.  But every time, you stay asleep.

Maybe this time, you’ll wake up.  Can you do it for me, baby?  Please?

…

Well, it was worth a try.  I miss the way you used to kiss me back.  I’ll try again tomorrow.

I’ll never stop trying.  

I love you, Shawn.

***

I just don’t get it, Mr. Spencer.  The doctors say he’s recovered from his injuries almost perfectly.  Even the head injury, on the surface, has healed.  Why isn’t he waking up?  It’s been eleven months!

If I knew, Gus, I’d be the first to tell you, but I have no idea what’s going on inside that thick head of his. 

I’m sorry.  I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, too.  I shouldn’t be –  

Gus.  Just like I told Jules, we have to be here for each other.  That’s all we can do.  That, and be here for Shawn when he wakes up. 

If he wakes up.

Don’t say that, Gus.  You know Shawn.  He’s the most stubborn person either of us knows.  He’ll wake up.  He’ll make it through this. 

How long are we going to keep telling ourselves that?  He’s been comatose for almost a year, Mr. Spencer.  Every time he shows signs of coming back, he just… doesn’t.  How long do we keep waiting?  Two years?  Five?  How long until we’ve reached the point of no return?  Will we even know it when we see it?

Gus, the point of no return doesn’t happen until he stops breathing, and that’s not going to happen, okay?  We stick by Shawn until our prayers are answered or are no longer necessary.  Got it? 

You’re right, I’m so sorry.  Of course I’d never give up on Shawn, I’m just so tired –

Shhhh! 

I am pouring my heart out here!  I let you cry on my shoulder yesterday, and you won’t even let me –

First off, I wasn’t crying, and even if it was, I wouldn’t be doing it on your shoulder.  Secondly, I could have sworn I saw – yes!  He’s moving!  Do you see his hand, Gus?  Gus! 

I … I dunno Mr. Spencer.  Could be another false alarm.

Maybe, but… this feels different.  Shawn?  Shawn?  Can you hear me, bud?  Can you open your eyes? 

He’s stopped moving.  His heart rate’s normalizing.  I think –

“D-dad?”

Oh my – thank GOD, Gus, get a doctor, get a nurse – call Jules – Shawn, Shawn, can you hear me? 

“Dad?”

I’m here, Shawn, I’m here.  Open your eyes for me – there you go.  Gus has gone to get the nurse.  He’ll be back with someone in a second. 

“Jules?”

She’ll be here, she’s just outside.  Thank God you’re awake, I – 

“I h-heard, Dad.”

What? 

“I heard.  Everything.”

You did, huh? 

“Yeah… do you a-always sound like a dying lawn mower when you cry?”

Dammit, Shawn, can’t you let me enjoy having you back for one second before you ruin it?

“L-love you, too, Dad.”

…

Welcome back, son.  It’s good to see you smile again. 

“Yeah, you too, dad – weird… But good.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday28 #febuwhumpalt3 #psych #shawn spencer #coma #tw coma #friendship #family #romance #one-sided conversations #coma conversations #hurt/comfort #angst #slow burn #henry spencer #burton guster #juliet o'hara #shules #madeline spencer #jack spencer #buzz mcnab #pierre despereaux #carlton lassiter #talking to a coma patient #this was an emotional experience #whump #whump fic #fanfiction #chief vick

[birdwonder]

Hey, is it possible for you to do a Young Joseph Joestar and Caesar's sister reader who is much more stronger with Hamon than she looks? Like she looks so fragile and sweet but she is just as strong as her brother? Thank you and have a nice day.

Joseph Joestar | The Serpent Under the Innocent Flower 

Imagine coming to an island to be taught the intricate and strenuous ways of a practically unknown battle technique to defeat cruel, ruthless villains - only to be stuck sweeping the floors of a kitchen space like a tired, cheap house maid.

That was that agonising situation Joseph was in currently and it was killing him slowly but surely. To think that accidentally knocking into Suzi Q, resulting in her dropping a small stack of plates, would land the young Joestar in such a humiliating position. Seriously! Who does Lisalisa think he is?! If the task didn’t involve utilising his hamon training then he wanted nothing to do with it. Besides, it was a simple mistake. Sure, it was caused by him being stupid and running around the kitchen so that he could hit Caesar for making a jabbing remark about him, but it was an accident nonetheless! Joseph was becoming convinced that his mentor was playing favourites and making him do extra gruelling work while that dumb, blond Italian was being endlessly pampered elsewhere.

It was almost impossible to imagine that pompous flirt was even related to [F/N], they were nothing alike!

Joseph’s grip on the broomstick loosened and he began to lazily spin it between his fingers while placing a hand onto a marble counter, his back pressed against it as well. Continuing to sweep the floors just felt pointless so he might as well take a break, especially seeing as no one was around.  

In his moment of lackadaisical efforts, he reflected on the Zeppeli siblings differences.  Caesar was horribly cocky and though a good partner, always found a way to demean Joseph and make himself look like a God in comparison; not to forget how he was always such a smug womaniser - in Joseph’s eyes at least. The man females who fawned over the Italian would be quick to disagree.

You, on the other hand, were so much more tolerable. Joseph had this strict feeling that the days ahead of meeting Lisalisa would be dark and gloomy, miserable even, since all that he could truly focus on was defeating men that wanted not only him, but other innocent people dead. Yet you proved him only half right. Every time you stepped into the room, the atmosphere always changed in the best possible way. You always greeted everyone with the widest smile and open arms, welcoming anyone and everyone to receive a warm hug to help boost their moral; Joseph would have happily accepted hundreds if not for the deadly glares Caesar gave him.

Watching you alone was fantastical. Every step you took made your dress bounce a little around your knees like your were a princess approaching a gala and when you had to look up to the much taller Joestar, all he could do was be smitten by two, doe-like eyes that seemed to sparkle with each word that fell off painfully soft lips. Painful as in how could he not want to kiss them? 

If Caesar didn’t keep his hawk eyes on him then he would have for sure tried to make more advancing moves on you. Ones that he knew would fluster you in the upmost cutest way that he would have no choice but to continue and hold you close, so he could take in every adorable reaction you had to him.  

“Jojo, are you alright?”

The sound of your voice snapped Joseph out of his thoughts faster than lightening and in no time he was back to aggressively cleaning the ground with a broom, acting as though he wasn’t just slacking off. It was just his luck that you were the one to enter the kitchen when he was just thinking about you - hopefully there wasn’t any evident signs on his face that revealed just that.

“[F/N]! Heeey you, I was just doing what I need to do, which is uh,” he cleared his throat,“cleaning.” The male took one hand off the broom to rub the back of his neck, a nervous smile trying to cover up the fact he was doing the exact opposite of what he said. Knowing you though, you would let him off whether or not you did find out he was going against Lisalisa’s orders. Why were you even here on the island in the first place? You were too much on an angel to be associated with a bunch of people who were working to take down merciless killers.

The mellifluous sound of a giggle floated through the air then, your head shaking at his obvious lie. “Right, of course you were, I suppose I should let you continue with that then. Don’t mind me,” you turn your back to him after, heading over to a bowl of fruit to pick out a red apple that looked freshly picked.

As you started to bite into the fruit, Joseph struggled to even fake sweeping, his line of sight focused on you and every movement you made. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear to make eating easier, how your lashes fluttered closed so you could fully enjoy the sweet taste on your tongue - all the minuscule things that meant nothing if anyone else did it. Glancing towards the entrance of the kitchen, a thought popped into Joseph’s head.

He highly doubted anyone else would enter, what with Caesar for sure training under Lisalisa’s supervision and Suzi Q doing work elsewhere, meaning the two of you would be alone for the time being. That also meant no protective older brother to stop him from sweeping you off your feet.

Joseph began to smirk a little to himself, resting the broom quietly against a counter as he casually strolled to the other side of the room, only stopping his walk when he was directly behind you. The distance between the two of you allowed him to notice so much more about you; how you smelt, your height comparison, how perfectly tied every bow on your dress was. You may be an angel but you had the charisma of a succubus, everything about you was just so tantalising and alluring - leaving him wanting to see you more. Feel you even.

Acting on his impulses, Joseph placed a hand on your waist which evoked a squeak from you, his hold keeping you in place as he lowered his voice and brought himself closer to your ear. “Have I ever mentioned just how cute you are? It’s a shame that we haven’t spent more time together.” His words were much more different from his normal joking tone he had, almost causing you to shiver and clutch the apple tightly. It was astonishing a little that such an immature man could suddenly sound so sultry.

When you bumped backwards into Joseph he assumed that you were uncomfortable and were trying to get away.  Despite it being a little disheartening, he was ready to drop his flirtatious act out of respect for you.

Much to his surprised, you swiftly spun around to grip onto his shirt, pulling the two of you together. ‘So she isn’t trying to escape,’ Joseph assured himself, his courage returning only for you to further his shock once again. He was expecting to look down at the usual innocent eyes he was used to; but instead half lidded eyes were peaking up at him, long lashes adding a seductive quality to you.

Things only became stranger when you lifted a leg up and hooked it around his waist, your bodies so tightly pressed against each other that he was certain the two of you could feel everything that the other had to offer. 

You pouted a little when you began to speak, your tone whiney and needy in a way that made you seem as though you couldn’t live without the other. “You’re so right, Jojo! I just can’t handle it every time my fratello tries to pull me away from you, I’ve been waiting for a moment like this forever.”

 He knew nothing about Italian but could only guess that you were talking about Caesar, though all he could really think about was how your voice was so much more bewitching than usual. It truly felt as though you were casting a spell on him so he could do anything you wanted. [ Which he would if he was being honest. ]

“I’m so glad to hear!” Joseph partially gushed, cursing himself for sounding like an enthusiastic child over your mutual feelings, returning to his attempted suave attitude right after, “I mean, I knew we had some sort of chemistry to begin with. I’m just a little surprised that you can be so…exciting.”

Your kittenish laugh somehow managed to fluster him and he tried to hide it by chuckling along with you while internally praying that he didn’t come across as a complete idiot.

 Two fingers began to make a walking motion from his waist line to meet where you were once gripping his shirt, the slow motion leaving Joseph in anticipation to what you were trying to lead up to. He was really hoping a kiss at least. Then he would have something to not only shove into Caesar’s face, but treasure forever. “Oh tesoro,” you cooed, your mother tongue suddenly becoming the most beautiful thing ever heard, “there is so much you don’t know about me.~”

The wandering fingers laid flat on Joseph’s chest along with your palm, a small crackle resonating in the air. What he had thought you meant and what you truly was saying became clear when a surge of hamon was forced through the Joestar’s body and sent him tumbling backwards, back and head hitting the ground harshly.

Joseph was still struggling to process what had just happened when you sat on his stomach, placing one hand beside his head while caressing his cheek with another. There was a smug smile where a sweet one once lied, and whether he was meant to be frightened or really into it was not an easy choice. “It’s cute that you think I’m some little lamb, I’m flattered really,” you hum, dragging a nail down the side of his face, “but you should know there’s a reason why my fratello refuses to ever lay a hand on me.”

Another shock of hamon was sent through his body though this time it wasn’t even close to being worse than a small pinch, something you obviously did on purpose. “It’s because he knows he’d lose in less than a few minutes, if I’m feeling generous.”

Joseph gawked. There was no way this was the [F/N] he knew. You were weak, cute and unable to kill a fly! While the woman above him looked like a cat that caught the canary and would never stop hunting until she was satisfied with her prey. In this case, Joseph felt like the prey.

“Ha, that’s really something,” he managed to breathe out since he was failing horribly to keep his cool.

“Oh I’m sure it is, so let’s use this as a reminder,” you bring your face down to his to make your nose touch his, the lack of distant proxemics making Joseph gulp hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob prominently. If he had to guess from the glint in your pupils and remaining simper, you were really enjoying this. “Don’t think of me as weak or a damsel in distress, or I’ll make you regret it, Joestar.”

No more could be said after that as your lips placed themselves onto his own, a deep kiss being the only thing that has ever kept the infamously loud Joseph Joestar quiet. At least he got what he wanted, a kiss from you was exactly how he imagined it to be, even if not in the circumstance he had expected. Your lips were soft and had the faint taste of something sweet, including the apple you were previously eating. 

He shut his eyes close and finally gathered the will to try and take a hold of your waist to keep things going; sadly you had the opposite idea.

Right before Joseph could even touch you, you stood up from your seat upon his stomach and began to straighten out the creases in your dress, stepping away from the stammering man on the floor. “Well, I think I should to be going now! You still have some work to do,” you giggle and point to the apple you once held, now discarded on the floor. “Lisalisa won’t be happy if this place is a mess when she’s back!”

Joseph blinked a few times in stunned silence.  All he could think of was the repeating question of ‘what just happened,” unsure of what to say until he saw you walking to the door.

Seeing you leave, he sat up in record time and held out a hand towards you as though it would help stop you. “W-wait! Are we just going to pretend that never happened?!”  

You paused in the door way when you heard his desperate question and tapped your chin with an false naïve hum, “I’m not really sure what you mean, Jojo!” 

Were you trying to kill him with that innocent act that he knew was fake? Because it was seriously working.

“Though if you have anymore questions, come talk to me when I’m alone sometime, I’m always happy to help a friend! Ciao for now.~” You sung, the sly wink you gave followed with your previous flirty smile not going unnoticed as you finally left. Your tone may have been couthy but Joseph now knew to see it as otherwise. 

One small interaction had changed his whole perspective of you in the wildest of ways. Not to mention the reason that you were here was ten times more clearer. He had to say, it really was exciting and seeing you be so devilish, well.

Lightly touching where you had kissed him, he knew that he would have to take you up on your offer.

#the title is a macbeth reference bc i had no idea what to call it #i loved this request sm !! #also i did a joseph fighting the reader fic before so i went for a more flirty route whoops- #joseph joestar #joseph joestar x reader #jjba x reader #request #caesar zeppeli #lisalisa