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a-dauntless-daffodil · 3 years

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angella trying to be intimidating and terrifying to adora in ep 4 but accidentally blowing adora’s whole world right open by throwing a wrecking ball into the years of traumatizing power dynamics that shadow weaver had ingrained in her by telling adora she can earn a place here NOT by obeying angella NOT by appeasing her or staying on her good side, but by NOT DISSAPOINTING GLIMMER, THE FRIEND ADORA SO VERY MUCH WANTS TO PROTECT AND HELP

and then angella backs up that idea the very next morning by Actually Listening When Adora Stands Up For Glimmer?

Adora Standing Up TO ANGELLA right after oops sitting in her dead husband’s chair, telling angella hey maybe glimmer’s idea is actually not a bad one maybe you shouldn’t shut her down 100% like that

and angella’s like. Well. Sigh. I DID warn you not to disappoint glimmer, which is a sore thing to remember when I am currently the reason glimmer is looking so disappointed. So. As long as you can keep her safe-

like holy sh*t this never happened in the fright zone

adora’s terrified attempts to speak to shadow weaver for catra were just used by shadow weaver to threaten catra more, destroy catra’s sense of agency by telling adora to control her better

(like she was adora’s PET a thing adora gets to keep around as long as she’s GOOD)

or scaring the f*%# out of both of them with a reminder of how disposable she feels catra is

literally the only way adora ever felt she had to keep catra kinda safe (and not get separated, or risk being put in the same terrible boat as her) was by keeping shadow weaver in a good mood and distracted. actually openly fighting for her best friend wasn’t allowed. at all

and that f@#kery made it so catra couldn’t even accept the few times adora was openly worried for her (childhood sparing match flashback) because she HAS to fight for herself, ruthlessly, constantly, and especially in public when other people were watching, even when it meant fighting against her only friend. catra has to. no one else will

worse, her own friend says even she shouldn’t fight for herself, scared that only makes it worse for her

(it doesn’t bc shadow weaver would do it anyway)

shadow weaver made every bad thing that was done to them their own fault and then wouldn't even let them lean on each other, oh no, she has to poison that too, adora can't be the friend she wants to be without hurting catra and catra can't rely on the only friend she has. her one friendship in the entire horde, and she's adora's responsibility, not her own person, because shadow weaver says so

what shadow weaver says happens is their entire life for so long. adora wants to be with her friend. will break rules to make catra happy and show her she cares. but no matter how good she tries to be, in the end it didn't matter, shadow weaver was going to isolate her too- make her force captain and take her away from all her friends. catra included.

and saying no to that? that would have disappointed shadow weaver. made her angry. been turned and twisted around, probably, to be catra's fault somehow, for 'dragging adora down' or 'holding her back'

so again, the only way to even try protecting her friend... was to not

adora comes from all this mess

then suddenly, the new person in power is telling adora to fight for her new friend? not only that she can, but she SHOULD?

angella doesn’t get mad at adora for doing it?? it actually WORKS????

shadow weaver pretended to care about adora and used that to control her, make her scared of openly siding with catra

angella told her flat out she doesn’t like or trust her, and challenged adora to be the person she claimed to be, by being there for glimmer.

and then angella Kept To Her Word

can you imagine. the revelation. the relief

the terror of adora standing up that first time, not sure how this would go, remembering all the other times she'd tried something like this and how it always went bad-

and then the confidence she has by the s1 end, straight out folding her arms and GLARING at angella when it looks like the immortal queen MIGHT be disapproving of glimmer’s secret weapon’s stash?

glimmer and bow are cringing in that moment, bracing themselves or trying to smooth things over

but in the background, adora’s look is just pure defiance

like yeah glimmer has a heck ton of weapons hidden away in her room. they're for fighting the horde. fighting the horde makes her happy. who the heck is angella, glimmer’s mom and queen of brightmoon, to dare make glimmer feel nervous about something that makes her happy???

if angella had tried fighting glimmer about it then, adora would have thrown hands. you cannot convince me otherwise

and honestly, considering the childhood adora came from, that’s heartwarming af

she trusts angella

not to always do the right thing or support her daughter the way adora feels glimmer deserves, but to care for glimmer, to want her to be happy, to want to be sure that SOMEONE always stands up for her daughter, even if it means going against angella herself

adora learns she can expect angella to be a decent person, basically, and that angella will hold herself to the same standards she puts on others

she tells adora not to disappoint glimmer. when adora pushes back, in ep4, points out sideways that angella’s the one doing it now, angella accepts that. she gives in. she changes her decision

glimmer wants to go recruiting princesses and fighting the horde? No.

adora offers to keep glimmer safe on the mission, reminding angella that that’s why she’s here, that’s why glimmer brought her to the rebellion, that’s what angella decided to trust her daughter on- THAT’S what glimmer is asking from her mom. a little trust? that’s what’s the disappointment here, glimmer being pushed aside again, right after it seemed like angella was finally starting to even slightly respect her as a leader

and…. fine. FINE, they can go

as long as they're careful and glimmer doesn't find a way to fight the horde anyway (sure jan), then glimmer can have her mission

angella doesn’t want to be a disappointment to glimmer either

after the whole thing with Micah, she already feels like one

she’s just scared. no way she’d survive losing glimmer too. but she said she’d give adora a chance for glimmer’s sake, and that means trusting adora with glimmer’s safety, trusting glimmer’s trust in this ex-horde soldier, which is the same as trusting glimmer with the fate ofthe ENTIRE rebellion

and angella does

she's scared-

(if adora had been a spy and taken glimmer hostage, we know exactly how fast angella would have surrendered, even just on the faintest hope of saving her daughter. even at the cost of the war against the horde)

(if glimmer had died on a mission that angella authorized, if she lost her the same way she’d already lost micah…)

-she’s scared and she’s been coping with her fear and loss by being cautious

(sending glimmer to elberon where no horde was supposed to attack)

(ordering a retreat the moment the horde attacked there anyway)

but she chooses to take this risk anyway

she loves her daughter very, VERY, very much. enough to start letting glimmer be her own person even if that means watching her chose to put herself in danger. enough to begin changing herself, for glimmer's sake

(end of s1 glimmer has no magic and is GLITCHING and when she decides to go after adora anyway, angella doesn't try stopping her. she encourages her. right after getting her back from the horde, almost losing her, she lets glimmer go)

(episode 1 angella would not have done that)

it’s not easy or instantaneous (still grounds glimmer when she gets too close to nearly dying)

but angella made that choice and tries to stick to it

that's something shadow weaver never did

and it's why adora can trust angella, be confident enough in that to stand up to her on glimmer’s behalf. angella was intimidating and distrustful and outright hostile at first, BUT, she was also fair

she respects her daughter, as a person, even if she isn't always good at showing it. even if her fear for glimmer made her overprotective and dismissive

She didn't ask Adora to help control Glimmer. She told Adora to prove Glimmer right

And she held to that. Even when it went against her own plans, she didn't punish Adora for going against her. She didn't blame Glimmer for 'failing to control' the horde solider who's supposed to be her responsibility

She just... didn't use her power to hurt them, when she had the chance to

The first authority figure in Adora's life to clear that low bar. And Angella did it, without even trying

Because she loves her daughter

I....flarblegarble…. I. Love. Season. One

#spop #adora #queen angella #glimmer #shadow weaver #.#they make me FEEL #things

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writingletterstothefire · 3 years

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reputation

A/N: This is a Hux x reader request I got in my DMs! Also, I wrote this on the Tumblr app, so I don’t know if there will be any formatting issues. If there are, I’ll fix them later on! I’m nervous, as I’ve never written Hux before, but I hope I did him justice! Your request is only part of the fic, but I hope you like it all the same. Enjoy!

Request from @bbarton : hi!! can i request hux x reader (secret relationship bc she has a lower status than him) where he gets jealous bc he sees someone flirting with her!! <3

General Armitage Hux had a reputation to uphold. He was cold, calculating. Officers and stormtrooper’s alike scampered away from him in the hallways. He knew what his inferior officers thought of him, and he used it to his advantage. If they’re scared, he thought, they’re less likely to rebel. And so, to ensure they stayed scared, he was more than happy to play the role of tyrant whenever the opportunity presented itself. If the new recruit fumbled and spilled coffee, he screamed at them in the middle of the mess hall. If a lieutenant failed to get a report in on time, they were publicly demoted. Officers were interchangeable in this profession, so as one was demoted, another was promoted to replace them. It sent a clear message: The Order does not need you. You are lucky to be here. You are lucky that The Order allows you to be here. It kept them in line.

General Armitage Hux had a reputation to uphold. He wasn’t known to be lovable and cuddly. Growing up, his father ensured that he never entertained the thought of a marriage based on love. From a young age, it was clear to Armitage that any marriage he partook in would be solely for the sake of siring an heir. Someone to continue the Hux line, ensure that the family name lived on past the individual. He definitely never saw you coming. You, soft and gentle, loving and warm. You, with a motherly embrace to rival the one he had conjured in his head. You took care of him, before he even knew what you were doing. Bringing him his tarine tea that he enjoyed so much, ensuring he ate at least two meals per day. At first, he genuinely thought that you were his new assistant. He thought that the Supreme Leader had assigned you to him without telling him, and who was he to question the Supreme Leader? But when he handed you a stack of paperwork about two months into your taking care of him and told you to transcribe all of the documents into basic and load them onto his datapad, you had giggled at him. He was almost offended, and he would have reeled back and screamed at you, if he wasn’t so entranced by the musical noise that was bubbling out of your mouth.

“Is...Is something funny, officer?” He had managed to choke out, his strangled voice surprising even himself. You smiled that wonderful smile, which he now realized was reserved for only him.

“No, sir, not funny per se, just...mildly amusing. I regret to inform you that I am not here to do Lieutenant Mitaka’s paper work for him.” You walked over to Mitaka’s desk, dropping the stack of papers there and writing a little note to stick to the top of the pile. Hux remembered purposefully looking anywhere but your rear end, which was poking out as you leaned over the desk.

“I beg your pardon?” Hux cleared his throat, cursing the hoarseness that lingered in his throat. Why was he suddenly becoming so affected by you? Perhaps it was because that was the first time he was seeing you. He’d known what you looked like, sure, but he’d never taken the time to really look at you. The way your eyes lit up when you smiled, the way your uniform hugged your body in just the right way to make his mouth water. The sheen of the lip balm you wore, glistening just enough under the fluorescent lighting of Starkiller Base to bring attention to those tantalizing lips.

“Well, it’s just that, you know I don’t work for you, don’t you?” Your voice had snapped him out of his thoughts, ringing through the air. You were looking at him, an amused smile on your lips.

“I beg your pardon?” He repeated, dumbly. He silently cursed himself again, before continuing, “If you do not work for me, then what is it that you are doing here, officer?”

“Why, making sure you don’t run yourself into the ground, of course,” you tilted your head at him, still smiling so happily, as if you were amused by his confusion. “Someone has to take care of you, General. I couldn’t exactly turn a blind eye when I noticed that you’d been skipping meal times.”

“And who do you work for, then?” Armitage was still confused. How could you have this spare time to constantly check on him? It made no sense.

“I’m part of the Cradle Initiative.” Finally, it’d hit Hux like a freight train. The Cradle Initiative was thought to be a joke among superior officers in the First Order. An old wives’ tale, even. The generation of First Order officers before Hux had often joked that the incoming line of soon-to-be generals and commanders were too soft. They needed to be nursed and taken care of. Cradled. And so, the newest generation of foundlings that the Order collected were put into the Cradle Initiative. These officers were trained to essentially be mother hens. They were taught how to cook, clean, and nurture. There were even some lessons on how to nurture children. Some factions of the Cradle Initiative were specifically to breed and nurture the next generation of the First Order. The rest were sent to First Order bases, where their job was quite literally to take care of everyone. It all made sense now.

“I see. So you...assist me—”

“—Take care of,” you interrupted with the ghost of a smirk on your face.

“—Take care of me,” he gritted out, “because you are part of the Cradle Initiative.”

“My, nothing gets past you, General,” you’d teased, rather boldly, in Hux’s opinion. Most would dive headfirst into the Tattooine suns before teasing a superior that way. “Yes, I was put on this base to take care of you and your fellow officers.”

Hux had nodded stiffly. Of course you would take care of him. It was your job. Nothing more than that. It was silly of him to ever entertain the idea—

“But I must tell you, General, that I check on you most frequently because I want to. I like knowing that you are taken care of. I like knowing that you’re not running yourself into the ground. I like being around you.”

From that moment on, you became Hux’s closest confidant. He would confide in you about Ren’s tantrums, and you would patch him up when the tantrums were taken out on him. Things changed, though, after you spent the night with him. It was entirely innocent, really, you had just fallen asleep while cuddling him after he woke up from a nightmare. He had those often, nightmares about his father’s abuse. At first, he was ashamed that you’d seen him in such a weak state, but the shameful feeling was pushed aside as you slid onto the bed and gently laid your hand on his knee.

“I’m here to take care of you, General,” you reminded him softly.

“Armitage,” he blurted out, “call me Armitage when we’re alone.”

You smiled and repeated his name, the word sounding too lovely as it fell from your lips. He couldn’t help himself. He kissed you. And you had kissed him back. You’d wrapped your arms around him and laid with him the entire night.

That night changed everything. You both knew that if anyone knew of your relationship, it would change how you were viewed. The officers of the Cradle Initiative already had a reputation for essentially being prostitutes. They were often ridiculed, and told that they were there to be bred with and that’s it. You’d be publicly humiliated if anyone knew you were in a relationship with the highest ranking general of the First Order. So you had to hide. And then there was the most important reason.

General Armitage Hux had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t risk his officers thinking he had gone soft. There was too much at stake, and he needed to have their complete respect and loyalty.

But then he saw that damned Lieutenant Trecol Verstan. Verstan was a thorn in Hux’s side from the very beginning, constantly questioning and defying his orders. He was one misstep away from being demoted to janitorial staff. And it appeared that he would be making that misstep today.

Upon entering the somewhat crowded command center, Hux’s eyes immediately zeroed in on you, and he saw red. Verstan was currently leaned up against the wall, his arm caging you in as he chattered into about Maker knows what. He was likely telling a highly fictionalized version of his last mission, during which he hid on the ship while the stormtroopers assigned to help him gathered Resistance sympathizers and took them hostage. You were smiling, but it was a thin smile, as if Verstan was testing your patience. Because, he was. You were struggling to come up with a solid enough reason to walk away, when you felt a familiar presence sidle up next to you.

General Armitage Hux had a reputation to uphold.

“Is there a problem, Officer Verstan?” Hux asked, purposefully using the wrong title to refer to the man.

“Lieutenant,” Verstan insisted, huffing in annoyance.

“Yes, well, I don’t think my fiancée needs to hear anymore about your cowardice on Kijimi, Officer Verstan.” Your head snapped to stare at Armitage, jaw dropping a bit.

You saw Verstan’s jaw drop even further than yours did, immediately growing bright red and backing away quickly.

“I-I had no idea, General Hux, if I had known I never would have—”

“Harassed a fellow officer? I’m sure that wouldn’t have stopped you, Officer Verstan.” Hux’s tone was even, almost dangerously so.

“L-Lieutenant...” Verstan muttered under his breath, clearly embarrassed at being degraded in front of his fellow officers and superiors.

“No, no. You’ve been demoted. Between harassing a fellow officer, and your performance on Kijimi, which was nothing short of disgraceful, you’ve made it clear that you do not deserve the title and responsibilities that come with the lieutenant position. You will now be an officer, acting under the guidance of Lieutenant Mitaka. I suppose, in a way, due to the pecking order on this base, that means you work under me. Well, that is to say that I am your superior’s superior. How nice.” Hux looked the most amused anyone, aside from you, had ever seen him.

He turned to you, about to speak, before realizing that Verstan was still standing there, gaping like a fish. “Are you still here, Officer?”

Verstans ears burned red as he scurried away, hurrying out of the command center.

You were still staring up at Hux, eyes wide and shining. He turned back to you, stepping close and murmuring an, “Are you alright, my love?”

You were so unused to him openly showing any care for you, for reasons you both agreed on. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, but you were now standing toe to toe, close enough to kiss him. You wouldn’t, because you didn’t know where his boundaries were right now, but the thought did cross your mind.

“I’m alright. Thank you for that. I’m sorry I couldn’t get rid of him.” You felt his breath fan across your face as he sighed.

“My darling, I could never be upset with you. You have my complete trust.”

You smiled softly at that. You knew he loved you, of course, but to hear that he trusted you always felt good.

“I know,” you spoke softly, “I know you trust me, and I trust you. With my life, Armitage.”

As he was about to close the gap between you, he realized that the command center was quiet. Too quiet. He lifted his gaze from yours to see that everyone in the command center had frozen during the exchange with Verstan, and they were still watching with intrigue. Some looked absolutely astonished, while others had knowing smirks.

“Unless you are all looking to join Verstan in his demotion, I suggest you get back to work.” His voice was calm enough, but he spoke with such a commanding tone that everyone in the command center scrambled to look busy. Those that could find an excuse scurried out of the room entirely.

Hux led you out of the command center, hands still behind his back, but your hand loosely nestled in the crook of his elbow. Everyone would know within the hour, what did it matter now? There was no point in trying to hide anymore, he thought to himself, as he guided you into his quarters. Your quarters too, he supposed. You basically lived with him at this point.

“So fiancée, huh?” Your teasing voice had his attention snapping back to you in an instant. While he was lost in thought, you have perched yourself on the small loveseat that sat to the left of center in his quarters, next to the electric fireplace. “When were you planning to ask me about this? Where’s my ring, Armitage?”

You were joking, and he knew you were only teasing him to make him blush. You loved being the only one able to fluster him. Still, he turned away from you, walking into the bedroom and digging through the nightstand. He emerged before you could even question him, and walked over so quickly that you didn’t even register it until he was on one knee in front of you, breathing your name in that soft way that was reserved only for you.

“My love,” he began, “I never thought I would find anyone like you. I assumed that I would never marry for love, it would simply be an arrangement of convenience. But when I met you, I knew that the tightness in my chest was love. I knew that the lightheadedness that set in whenever you smiled at me was love. I knew that the feeling of something missing whenever you left the room was love. I love you. And at first, that terrified me. I didn’t want anyone to hold the power over me that you hold. But when you held me through the night after witnessing one of my lowest moments, I knew you would never abuse that power. You’ve proven time and time again that you love me just as much as I love you. There is no one else that I could fathom a life with. There is no one else I could love. There is only you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You were crying now. You had been joking around before, but now, with Armitage on one knee in front of you, you knew that you’d never say no to him. “Yes! Yes, Armitage, yes!”

You waited until he slipped the ring onto your finger before launching yourself at him, holding him tighter than he’d ever been held.

“I love you, so much, Armitage,” you cried into his neck. His arms wrapped around you, one hand tangling in your hair.

“I love you, my darling.”

General Armitage Hux had a reputation to uphold. Everyone knew who he was, and everyone was terrified of him. After news of your engagement broke, everyone knew not to touch you. Those who’d seen what happened with Verstan were most likely to stay away. About a week later, there was an incident with a newly recruited officer who thought perhaps they could charm you into cheating on Hux, reaching out to try to feel you up, but before Hux could even think to do anything, you had the offending arm pinned behind the officer’s back. Armitage had never been prouder.

General Armitage Hux had a reputation to uphold. And you, as his fiancée, took it upon yourself to ensure that reputation stayed intact.

#general hux x reader #general hux x y/n #general armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #star wars #general hux #armitage hux #general armitage hux #my writing

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

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I See You, I Know You- and I’m Not Going Anywhere

You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I Want to Know, part 2

Warnings: SMUT! THERE IS LOTS OF SMUT AHEAD!, oral (fem receiving), p in v sexy sex, shitty fiance of reader being shitty, slurs against the french (frog/froggy), angst, LOADS of feels, infidelity, gene mooning over reader to potentially OOC levels, tiny bit of innocence kink referenced, reader gets chatty when horny, untranslated french (bc it’s Gene’s POV so he wouldn’t think process and translate french in his head (let me know if you want me to add them)), unprotected sex (let’s just pretend there’s no risk, yes?), guilt, lots of potty words.

(My fancast for Peter Kelly is Pablo Schreiber but feel free to ignore it.)

Title(s) come from Duet by Penny and Sparrow and Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a relatively calm day in Schoonderlogt. The day was sunny- cold, but sunny- and everyone was taking advantage of the well-deserved break from the frontlines.

Gene was drinking some of the best coffee he’d had in months while watching a handful of Airborne and Army soldiers play some vaguely ruled interpretation of basketball, his eyes darting every so often towards the table a few yards away where you and the other nurses were casually sterilizing the linens and strips of fabric.

You looked beautiful- your hair loose and your smile radiant as you laughed and joked with your friends. It wasn’t often that all of the company’s nurses were at the same place at the same time, so when the stars aligned and you got to see each other it never failed to bring you joy that would last for days afterward.

Your eyes caught his, and Gene couldn’t help but smile when you shot him a wink.

The merriment didn’t last much longer for you.

While Gene had been lighting a cigarette, he was dimly aware of another Jeep-load of Army men arriving at the mouth of the courtyard, not really concerned with the new arrivals.

Until you screamed.

When Gene and the other Easy men whipped their heads over towards the sound, he saw that someone- some man- had wrapped their arms around you from behind and lifted you off of your feet, a broad smile on the man’s face as he spun you around bodily.

“Froggy!”

Gene hadn’t realized he’d already gotten up and begun rushing for you until he saw Liebgott sprinting past him with balled fists and a fixed jaw. His blood was cold in his veins, heart thrumming anxiously as he catches sight of your pale face when the man sets you down, quickly turning in the man’s embrace and staring up at the grinning intruder.

Everyone comes to a halt when the man grips your bottom and pulls you into him for a deep kiss.

“Hey, Y/N!” Liebgott shouts, Gene watching with angry confusion as you quickly pull out of the kiss but don’t continue to shove the man away. “This guy bothering you?”

With your cheeks blazing, you offer a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, eyes still wide and flickering between Easy and this stranger.

“No,” you manage to say before the man wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into him.

“You gonna introduce me, Froggy-girl?”

Gene doesn’t like the way this man is bodily handling you, but what he really doesn’t like is how you seem to be letting him.

You clear your throat before shyly meeting Gene’s eyes.

“Guys, this is Peter Kelly,” you quickly look away from Gene and look to Joe Liebgott. “My fiance.”

You might as well have yanked Gene’s feet from under him.

Peter was everything Gene wasn’t: loud and boisterous and gregarious and extroverted, his jovial attitude initially winning over most of the guys.

That approval dissipates the more Peter drinks that night.

For Gene, he’d hated the man instantly. Not only because he was already half in love with you- although that was certainly a contributing factor.

No, Pete lost any respect from Gene the moment he saw the clear hickies hiding just beneath the collar of the man’s shirt.

One time, when the two of you had been rolling bandages for restocking the soldier’s med-kits, you’d insinuated that Peter had a wandering eye. You hadn’t elaborated, but there had certainly been a tone of sad acceptance in your voice as you’d said it.

Judging by the way your eyes kept lingering on Peter’s throat, Gene knew that you knew exactly what had caused those marks.

It made Gene furious, but for your sake, he kept his seething to a minimum.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself, as if Peter’s presence made you wither from the inside. The more he spoke about you, it was clear to anyone listening that he didn’t respect you. Several times, Peter had referred to your nursing as ‘endearing’, ignoring your reminder that you weren’t doing this as a hobby with a look of faux apology and an admonishment for ‘upsetting your delicate frog-feelings’.

When Guarno had finally taken the bait and asked what all the frog references were about, you’d frowned and excused yourself with a grimace- a glower staining your face when Peter’s arm shoots out to pull you into his lap.

“Well, just look at her face- Doesn’t she look like the poutiest widdle frog?”

He said this like a praise, Gene’s blood boiling as he watches you glare at a spot on the ground. With a bit of the fire you normally showed, you detangle yourself from his hold and announce that you’re going to refill your canteen- ignoring his childish whine and yelping when he smacks your ass as you leave.

“Also,” Peter says like a secret while hungrily watching you walk away. “Her mama’s second husband was one of those Frenchie types- so sometimes she acts a little spoiled- and all of us used to tell her to stop bein’ so froggy.”

When Peter shoots a wink Gene’s way, Gene gives him a glare before getting up and going the opposite direction you- not wanting to make your life any more difficult than Peter was clearly making it right now.

A little bit later, after Peter and some of the other Army guys invite Easy to join them at their basecamp, Gene overhears you and Peter arguing behind one of the stone buildings.

“I’m basically your husband, how am I supposed to explain to the guys that my girl doesn’t even want me to spend the night with her?”

“Because I know what ‘spending the night’ entails, and that is certainly not happening—”

Gene hears Peter groan, the beer he’d had earlier making him act more immature than before.

“I’m not getting tested. Why can’t you just trust me—?”

“Because you’re not trustworthy!” your voice is shrill, disgust lurking below the surface. “You clearly have been with someone recently, and I refuse to risk my job- my life- because you want to get off.”

Peter scoffs at that, and Gene creeps closer to hear better.

“You’re a nurse, Y/N. it’s not like you’re a medic—”

“Fuck you.”

Gene retreats quickly upon hearing your footsteps, only stopping when he hears a smacking sound. Before he can rush back, he hears you snarl.

“Don’t think you can ever put your hands on me like that ever again- on anyone. Next time, I won’t go easy on you with a slap. Now go away.”

With everyone else gone to the Army’s basecamp, Gene joins you in your temporary quarters, where you’re scribbling inventory reports with an angry grip on your pen.

It’s tense- and Gene wonders if you’d somehow known that he’d overheard your spat with Peter earlier. Your shoulders are up by your shoulders, leg bouncing beneath the table as you sit on the seat’s edge.

Gene knows you’re upset, but selfishly he’s upset too and knows he won’t be able to leave you to fester without at least trying to talk to you.

With obvious frustration, you all but throw your finished report towards the pile of completed paperwork by your feet, clearing your throat a few times as you stare at the wall in front of you.

Suddenly you sigh, your head tilting upward as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Just go ahead and say it, Eugene.”

Gene frowns, staring at the back of your head. “Say what, Y/N—?”

“Whatever you’re trying so hard not to say, I can feel you ruminating all the way from over here.”

He pauses, feeling as if he may be walking into a trap that could make things infinitely worse.

Screw it.

“You deserve better.”

You scoff sadly, a bitter sound that makes his chest ache in empathy.

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course I am. You deserve someone who doesn’t talk to you like you’re nuthin’. Someone who is kind and good and wants to make you happy—”

“What makes you think that he isn’t all of those things?”

“He’s a pig, Y/N….he is nuthin’ but mean and cruel and you’ve gotta see that—”

“How do you know that I didn’t used to be like him- just like him?”

Now he’s getting angry too, all of his rage from earlier coming back in full force without his permission.

“Stop bein’ contrary jus’ for the sake of it! Jesus, Y/N, you clearly don’t love him, why’re you still married if—?”

You slam down the pen you’ve been tapping aggressively, whirling around to turn the full force of your scowl upon him.

“What makes you think I haven’t tried to end it?!”

Carelessly nudging the chair out of your path, you storm across the room to stand before him and jab your index finger into the center of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you, Eugene, but some women don’t get to change their minds! Some of us could beg until we’re blue in the face and we’ll still be forced to tie ourselves to men who we hate, just because our parents want to reap the benefits of such arrangements!”

Your lip has begun to quiver, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at him.

“Some of us don’t get to be happy, don’t get to marry the people we love!”

Guilt makes his stomach feel sour, especially when you bury your face in his shirtfront and bite back a whimper of heartbreak- your breath hot through the layers of clothing as you choke back more cries.

“Hey,” Gene whispers, the anger he’d been feeling sizzling out like a drenched flame. “‘M sorry, Y/N- please don’t cry….”

You allow him to encourage your face away from his chest, taking your face in his hands and brushing the hair out of your face.

You look so defeated, so goddamn hopeless that it almost makes him want to cry, too.

Unable to bear the sight of you upset for one more moment, Gene interrupts you mid-sob to catch your lips in a reassuring kiss.

It’s rougher than he intended, his desperation to quell your sorrow causing him to pull you into him a bit too quickly and causing your noses to press together uncomfortably for a moment. To his surprise, you don’t make any move to pull away- your hands coming up to grip at the front of his shirt with an anxiousness he hadn’t seen from you in years.

It reminds him of the first time he touched you.

Your lips are slightly trembling as you lean into him to deepen the kiss, and when Gene’s other hand comes up to cup your face he can feel the stick of drying tears on his palm. Seeing how your fiance had possessively gripped your face in his hand earlier had Gene’s blood boiling earlier- the lack of reverence the man had for you painfully clear in the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to grope at you as if your flesh solely existed for his pleasure.

As if Gene didn't have enough reasons to hate Peter Kelly, the son of a bitch didn’t even appreciate the gift Gene knew you to be.

You were better than any of them, and he was sure that if he were to ask anyone else in Easy they would say the same. And, if the tension between Peter and the rest of the men were anything to go by, the general consensus was that the man didn’t deserve you. How he’d gotten you in the first place was a marvel that Gene couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Right now, all he knew was you, you, you.

Your hands fisted in his hair offered the most comforting sting of passion, and Gene would be lying if he said that having you so fervent for him didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. Heightened emotion was something the both of you seemed to have lost throughout this god-awful war, something you’d both had to relinquish in order to survive.

Any time you showed these sparks of life, Gene felt a warmth in his chest that envied the most golden sunshine.

It reminded him that you were alive and he was alive and there was still a chance for something good to happen after all of this.

All of his thoughts return to you, feeling guilty for reflecting in a moment that demanded- no, deserved all of his attention and gratitude. He could admire you privately after you fell asleep, in his arms.

Right now, he needed to remind you that you were something worthy of worship.

You whimper against his mouth when he slides his hands up the planes of your back beneath your sweater, breaking away from your lips momentarily to pull the sweater over your head and toss it to the floor.

“I need you,” you’re whispering, your hands coming to tear at the buttons of his jacket as if it is personally offending you. “I’m so sorry, but I do….Please, Gene! I fucking need you—!”

Gene is quick to shush you, quickly helping you finish divesting him of his jacket so he can swallow your apologies in another toe-curling kiss. Growing up, he’d been taught that marriage was a life-long commitment, that anyone who broke that promise was ungodly or impure.

Of course, he’d also naively believed that people only got married because they were deeply and wholly in love with one another. It wasn’t until he had met you in Toccoa that he’d realized that love sometimes had nothing to do with it, that those sort of things weren't necessarily as clean-cut as he’d been led to believe.

Taking your face in his hands again, he tilts your face up so he can kiss at the warm skin beneath your jaw, liking the way your moan vibrates in your throat as he walks you back to the table you’d been working at and presses your backside against it. The sound of your open-mouthed panting had him painfully hard already- it’s almost embarrassing how little you have to do to get him like this.

He hadn’t even realized one of your hands had been working at the fastening of his pants until you’ve begun to scratch your nails softly down the skin of his lower stomach, and when his hips jump in surprise he can feel your breath hitch in your throat with heady amusement. When you do it again, he can hear the smile in your exhale.

“Such a perfect cock,” you nearly coo, your touch light as your fingertips brush over the head of him. “Can’t believe how perfect you are….”

You get like this sometimes when you get turned on, Gene has come to learn.- all lust-drunk and babbly as your words switch from thoughtful to stream of consciousness. It’s endearing, so wildly endearing that Gene would go as far as to call this habit cute.

Cute was the only term you ever showed resistance to, even in jest. Your reaction to the word was so viscerally negative that it had even surprised him- the person who you had frequently insisted knew you the best.

After meeting your fiance and his degrading attempts at ‘praise’, Gene was now able to understand why.

Your hand was stroking him in earnest now, having used his precum to coat your hand so your movements were smooth and confident. Despite the fact that he’d managed to get your trousers undone and loose around your thighs, Gene hadn’t been able to actually do anything else other than clutch at your hips and gasp into your neck as you rhythmically ruined him.

Normally, this is as far as you two would get- one of you getting the other off with your hands (and sometimes mouths) before someone or something would interrupt the other’s attempt at reciprocation and you’d both have to dive back into your duties to the Company. It was deeply unsatisfying- particularly for Gene because he wasn’t afraid to admit that making you cum wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Each and every time he didn’t get to return the favor made him feel terribly guilty- like he had somehow exploited your feelings for him.

It made him feel sick. It didn’t matter how many times you insisted that you didn't see it that way, he always was left feeling as if he’d been inexcusably selfish.

He hated it.

But tonight was different. For once, the two of you weren’t the only medics available for the dozens of men who seemed to have a near-constant stream of injuries and festering wounds. The Army was there with their fourteen medics and nurses and the majority of Easy company had gone to visit their camp in order to mooch some of their beer and US-funded entertainment.

No one would be interrupting his time with you tonight.

Not even your fiance, who was no doubt dishonoring his vows of fidelity right now.

It didn’t have to stop. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Wait, Minette,” Gene chokes out, reaching down to stop your sinfully-sweet touch before he lost himself in it. “Jus’ wait a second…..”

You make a sound of disappointment in your throat, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he can see a small pout on your lips- as if he’s deprived you of something. The sight makes him feel lightheaded, the implications almost enough to….

Focus, focus.

“You were so close,” your voice holds an undertone of frustration, your other hand attempting to sneak down and finish what the other had started. When he takes that wrist as well, your eyebrows furrow almost comically. “What are you doing, Eugene—?”

You cut yourself off when he suddenly drops to his knees, hands hooking in the waist of your pants and underwear as he does so and shucking them down to your ankles. Your eyes are wide now, cheeks flushed and eyebrows high in surprise.

Keeping his gaze on you, he leans forward enough to press a kiss to your freshly bared thigh. By the time he moves to give the other the same treatment, he can see that your eyes are becoming soft once more.

“I wanna take your boots off,” Gene says as evenly as he can, electricity crackling in his veins at the smell of you. “Can I do that, Y/N?”

At your hurried nod, Gene kisses a ‘good girl’ to your skin quickly before bowing his head to unlace your boots with shaking fingers. He’s thankful for the time it takes him to do so- it gives him the opportunity to get his thoughts together and regain some semblance of control over himself.

Maybe one day he could be impulsive when it came to you, when neither of you had the threat of death hanging over your heads like a heavy cloud.

But now, with each moment commonly understood as having the potential to be your last, Gene couldn’t afford to leave you as anything other than satisfied…..worshipped.

By the time he has your boots removed and one of your legs freed from your trousers, he wants nothing more than to make you come apart beneath him. Because of him.

Looking back up at you, he can see that you’ve unbuttoned your shirt and thrown it open so he can see your nipples harden beneath your once white t-shirt- the weather was far too cold to consider undressing to complete nudity. Your mouth is pink and swollen, shiny from your tongue having recently darted out to wet them.

For a moment, Gene is stuck- too awed by your beauty to risk moving and missing a moment of it. Your heated whisper of his name is the only thing that shakes him free, and he can’t help but lean into your touch when you card a hand through his hair again.

Bringing his rifle-roughened hands to your knees, he purposefully slides them up your thighs until he can rub his thumbs over your hip bones. When he presses on them lightly, you follow his touch and perch yourself on the edge of the table with a quiet curse. The action parts your lower lips slightly, a movement he is quick to chase with his mouth.

He wastes no time shouldering his way between your thighs, using his hands to guide them over his shoulders as he starts to lick gently at the seam of your sex.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your other hand coming down to scratch lightly at his scalp. “Fuck, Eugene….you don’t have to—ohh!”

Your unnecessary reassurance is lost in a sigh of arousal the moment his thumbs open you up more for him so he can circle the tip of his tongue around your clit before laving it more purposefully. You always tried to reassure him that using his mouth on you wasn’t necessary, clearly not accustomed to having a partner who enjoyed doing so.

Not that Gene was an expert, not by any means.

But, between having mapped out your sex with his fingers and the limited experience he’d had before the war paired with his- er, considerable knowledge of the human anatomy- he knew enough to take out most of the guesswork.

He hasn’t had many opportunities to go down on you- three on the boat ride to England, five times during your time in Alderbourne, twice since dropping into Normandy. You’d dropped to your knees for him far more than that, and now that he had more perspective on what your relationship with Peter had probably entailed Gene was determined to make up for each and every indulgence you’d offered him.

The tremor of your thighs tells him that you’re getting close, and he can tell by the way the muscles of your stomach clench beneath his greedy palm that you’re starting to have a hard time keeping yourself up as you watched him devour you. He hadn’t realized how vigorously he’d been attending to you, too lost in your taste and smell to hear the interspersing chant of his name being showered upon him as praise spilled from your lips once more.

With a groan, brings you to orgasm, refusing to cease his suckling despite the blooming ache in his jaw. It isn’t until your foot raises to press at his shoulder that he allows you to push him away, and he can tell that he’s exhausted you by the way you fall back and writhe while your release works itself through your bloodstream.

“Oh my God, Gene,” you keep repeating, chest jumping with adrenaline. “Why are you….how are you so good?”

He chuckles at that, his cheeks darkening at the praise. Gene watches as your eyes skate down his body to look at his cock, swallowing audibly before looking into his eyes once more. Before he can assure you that he understands if you don’t want to keep going, you carefully sit up and look up at him bashfully, biting the inside of your lower lip and bringing your hand to his cheek.

The look you’re giving him starts to make him nervous. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you clear your throat and tell him.

“I...I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

Gene frowns, searching your face for clarification as to what you’re trying to say.

“What’re you mean, ma cherie? What’s got you so worried?”

Your shoulders nearly slump as you sigh, giving him a weak smile as you clear your throat once more.

“At sex, Gene. I’m worried—I don’t know how to make it good for you...”

With a shake of his head, he brings his crooked index finger under your chin to stop you from hanging your head in embarrassment. You look so lost right now it breaks his heart.

“Minette, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

When you open your mouth to rebuke his statement he’s quick to kiss you, using his free hand to bring yours from his cheek to press against the middle of his chest. It takes you a moment, but you do kiss him back, inhaling sharply as he nips carefully at your bottom lip.

Pulling back, Gene traces his thumb over your lips and gives you a soft smile.

“Never worry about me, ‘cause there isn’t a damn thing you could do that wouldn’t make it ‘good for me’.”

You narrow your eyes at that. “I doubt that’s true—”

Gene snorts and shakes his head admonishingly. “Doubt all you want, darlin’. Don’t make any of what I said change one bit.”

You look at him for a bit, eyes softening again and your hand smoothing down his chest with a hum. He thinks you’re going to require further reassurance until he watches as you purposefully part your mouth enough for his thumb to slip between your lips. The sight of you watching him paired with the drag of your tongue along the pad of his finger goes straight to his cock, reminding him of just how hard he’s become.

When you release him with a gentle nip to his fingertip, Gene stares at you in disbelief.

“Jésus Christ, cherie,” he can’t help but murmur. “Vous ne jouez pas juste…”

You tilt your head slightly, clearly aware of what he’s said but seeming to understand the gist of it.

“Show me what you like,” you whisper, scooting your hips to the very edge of the table and brushing your lips against his. “I’ve wanted you for so long….”

Gene kisses you as he slips inside of you, your gasp of pleasure sweet on his tongue. Unprompted, you bring your legs up to find some purchase around his hips and squeak as you take all of him in at once.

Bon Dieu, tu te sens comme le paradis….

You are clutching at him, your hands dancing for the best place to grip him before settling on one arm hooking around his neck and your other hand bracing at his left bicep. It’s an awkward position- probably because neither of you had ever tried to fuck on a table before- so Gene tries to get past the near blinding pressure building in his loins and wraps one of his arms around your hips to slightly adjust the bend in your spine.

“Shit, I’m sorry—!” you being to apologize before he cuts you off.

“Non, non, non, non Minette….just let me try and—”

You both cry out as he suddenly ruts deep, your nails digging into his flesh through his shirts you gape up at him in surprise.

“Oh, oh!”

“‘S that okay?” he grits out, resisting every fiber in his body that is begging for him to piston his hips and just fuck you already. You nod quickly, rolling your hips experimentally and kissing him quickly when he keens before he can stop himself. Gene grits his teeth at the sweetness you’re showing him. You’re just so good. “I’ll stop if it’s—”

“More than okay….do that again- please don’t stop!”

There’s something so…. overwhelming about the way you’re looking at him, with your eyes wide and lips parted. The whimper that comes from the back of your throat at his next thrust combined with your bewildered expression makes you appear so beautifully innocent that Gene momentarily forgets how to breathe. Maybe innocent is the wrong word.

Honest. Yes, that was it.

It was your honesty that was overwhelming him, the lack of theater in your reactions to him and his touch so genuine and open that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Having you- the most glorious creature he’d ever met, would ever meet- gaze at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky was just so bewitching and unexpected, particularly because of how highly he regarded you.

Your eyes have a glossy look to them, almost as if you were drunk. Rather than the babble he’d anticipated hearing from you, you’ve gone almost silent aside from the sighs and gasps of pleasure that accompany each piston of his hips into your tight velvet heat. Head lolled back, you watch him from under heavy lids while meeting his thrusts with careful pitches of your own, your eyelashes fluttering in response to his punched-out breath washing over your face.

If he didn’t know any better, Gene would say that you had undersold your experience on purpose. You had to know what you were doing to him.

How devastatingly close you were to unmanning him.

“Is it good, Ma Chatounette?” he can hear himself ask, his head already swimming with the initial signs of orgasm. “Am I making you feel good?”

You nod shallowly, mouth opening to reply but no sound coming out. The hand you’ve braced on his arm now has started to claw, and he can feel you tighten around him.

You’re close, too.

“Please,” you nearly weep, your hips starting to rut against him. “Please please please please—!”

“D'accord,”’ he nods, taking your words as permission to allow his body to chase that fire that’s been burning him alive for quite some time now. “Je te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin, chérie. Je vais le rendre meilleur….”

Gene moans as you allow him to put a hand on your shoulder and press you back so you’re laying back on the table, your back arching sinfully as you mewl for him. Your legs tighten around his waist, and he feels his jaw go slack at the sight of your rolling hips coming to meet him thrust for thrust. You’ve begun to chant his name again, the sheen of sweat on your skin making you look like some carnal divinity sent to him for the sole purpose of ruining him.

And who was he to deny an angel?

Your arms wrap around him as he hunches over to brace his elbows by your shoulders, pressing your hot cheek against his - nibbling at his earlobe as his rhythm becomes punishing.

“Ma ruine, mon ange, je ne veux jamais être sans toi—”

“Come for me- please, please, I’ve never felt so good—”

It’s the catch of his pelvis against your clit that snaps both of you into oblivion, Gene’s vision going white as he clutches at whatever parts of you he can get his hands on, choking on his own breath as the bite of your fingernails adds the perfect amount of pain to his release. He’s aware of you crying out in release, but it’s swirled into the sound of blood racing in his ears as your tightening walls milk him for all he’s worth.

As his vision returns to him, he laboriously removes his head from the curve of your shoulder to look at you, his heart freezing midbeat when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You’re shaking your head, hands finding his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours so you can kiss him syrupy-slow, the action throwing him for a loop.

“I’m happy,” you insist between kisses. “It was so good…. I-I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m sorry—”

Gene calms instantly, kissing you back and sighing into your mouth.

He understood what you were trying to say, knew exactly what you were experiencing. It made him stupidly happy that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by this….connection you two had.

He’d never had a lover who had reciprocated his feelings so fully. Then again, he’d never felt this with anyone else before, either.

“Don’t be sorry, Minette….I feel it, too.”

It takes the two of you a while, but you do eventually manage to move to the small mattress in the corner of the room, tangling yourselves together beneath the moderate warmth of the blankets and coats you’d scavenged earlier while avoiding Peter.

You must’ve thought he was asleep, because he has a feeling you wouldn’t have dared to say the words aloud.

“I love you,” you whispered against his shoulder in the darkness. “However terrible that makes me, I’m in love with you Eugene Roe.”

Gene is thankful for the pitch-black surrounding you. That way, he can allow himself to smile without fear of you seeing it.

Je suis amoureux de toi depuis des années, (Y/N). J'ai hâte de te le dire un jour.

But for now, this was enough.

~ ~ ~

(*hides under covers for the rest of the day* OK THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME THIS HAS BEEN MY FIC DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WILL)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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kashi-prompts · 3 years

Note

would you mind doing one where he helps with sh please? or depression hes one of my comfort characters it’s okay though if you don’t want to i understand!!

A/N: Please read the trigger warnings <3

Rating: M

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader (kind of a thing already but not really, I would say?)

Genre: Angst and fluff? Bc that’s all I ever write.

WARNING: This prompt contains somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm. If this is triggering to you, please skip this prompt and take a look at my other prompts for your Kakashi/reader needs :) Be well! <3

Prompt below the cut!

* * * * * * * *

You stumbled into your grimy apartment, limbs feeling as though they were double your total body weight. Your feet ached, your head spun.

“I couldn’t -” you had managed before Lady Tsunade. You had taken a breath and tried again. “I couldn’t get to her in time.”

Your friend since birth. Your childhood playmate. Your best friend. Your team lead. How could you have let her down? How could you have managed to not protect her, as she had protected you on every mission. You leaned against the wood paneled wall, gritting your teeth. Your body reeked of sweat, shame and guilt. A dusting of dirt covered every inch of your body, your teammates blood on your chest.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes.

“She was right in front of me, but my body was paralyzed from their jutsu.” You had explained.

“How did she -?” The fifth Hokage had asked, eyes staring down at her scroll, her body completely rigid behind her desk.

“Blades,” you breathed, holding your composure. “To the chest.”

“And your other teammate?”

“In critical condition.”

How could you have been so foolish as to let yourself fall victim to a such a basic shinobi maneuver. Your opponent had stood before you, seeing you lunge at him with kunai in hand and then he was gone, disappearing into a patch of smoke before you. All at once, you had felt the weight of you adversary behind you, pushing you forward with his chest and onto the ground. A prick of the skin on your neck and your limbs became numb. Your teammates battled in front of you, perfectly capable of handling their own - yet something had caused the fluency of their movements to stifle.

You swallowed now, sliding down the wall in your apartment and holding your head. Your mind felt numb like your body had on the battlefield earlier. You had kept your composure bringing your teammate back to the village, leaving your friends dead body behind. He had managed to use all his chakra to defeat the faction of enemy shinobi, only to collapse under your nose as you realized everyone around you but the two of you were dead.

Konoha had lost a great leader that day. Not only that, but your friend. You could have saved her - if you had only trained harder, had better reflexed - been smarter.

You tugged at your hair, your eyes burning from the dirt on your face mixed with the salt of your tears. The overwhelming realization fell over your body. Nausea creeped up your throat, burning as you let out a wail of mourning.

You uncurled your legs from your chest, a clang of metal hitting the floor under you. The room was dark with the exception of the soft glow of the street light just beyond the small window in your apartment. Your reached your hand down, feeling your fingertips touch the cool metal of your kunai that usually hung casually from the leg of your uniform. You picked it up, your face twisting with anguish again at the thought of loosing your friend.

Something prickled under your skin - an old friend, an old enemy.

The realization that some type of relief could be managed hit you, only to be quickly followed by the overwhelming frustration of back peddling into a habit you had long left behind. Could you? Would you? Your grip tightened on the kunai, your face in your other hand as you squeezed your eyes shut, deliberating in your mind.

The ticking of the wall clock in your kitchen mocked you as you sat on the floor, a weeping, afflicted mess.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, drumming your head against the wood paneling.

But she felt the same pain as she died, your mind said to you. Blades against her skin, puncturing it and killing her. You should be dead, you know. She was a better shinobi.

Heat shot up your spine, your teeth milling down on one another. You pulled back your sleeve, not hesitating to turn the blade to its side and pushed it to your skin. Even in the darkness, you could see the pearls of blood forming under the edge.

For a moment, your consciousness only focused on the pain. The feeling of the kunai on your skin - the relief and the discomfort. Slowly, you added another line, and another. Moments passed.

You deserve this. You could have saved her. You could have helped him.

“[y/n]?”

The blade fell from your hand immediately, sliding onto the ground with a metallic thud. Your hands shook, eyes wide as you realized you had never closed the door behind you.

“[y/n] -” A silver haired shinobi pushed the door open further, seeing your curled up body leaning against the wall, blood coursing down you skin. You looked up at him, the streetlight glow from behind you twinkling in his alarmed eyes.

Kakashi.

“Oh, gods-” you shook your head and leaned it against the wall, your mind delirious with thoughts again. Nausea pushing up your throat. “I’m sorry, Kakashi. I’m sorry - I couldn’t sav-”

“It’s okay!” Kakashi fell to his knees next to you, trying to calm you. “I know, I know. It’s okay.”

He reached up, pushing your matted hair out of your tearstained face.

“I heard from Lady Tsunade. I know. I’m sorry - it’s not your fault.”

The light from the hall behind him fractured the darkness of your entryway. You were so nauseated with grief that you felt delirious. You felt the warmth of his palm on your head move away suddenly.

“[y/n],” he spoke mildly to you, “what is this?”

You felt his hand on your wrist, bringing it up into the light. Looking down, he saw the kunai right below it, your blood still dripping from it. You opened your eyes, the skin around them puffy and tired. Your fatigued gaze met his.

“Did you do this to yourself?” a finger brushed over the blood, soaking his fabric glove.

You nodded. Defeated.

You both stared at each other, some type of understanding communicated between one another. Moments passed, your mouth dry with no other words to say. Numbness enveloping you once again. You felt your mind zoning out, turning away from him.

You felt his fingertips on your temple again, his palm smudging the dirt off your face and smoothing back your hair - bringing you back to reality if only for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he whispered to you. “I know what you’re going through.”

You closed your eyes again, nodding silently.

A few moments later, you heard him move next to you, followed by the sudden sting of antiseptic against your wounds. Grimacing, you opened your eyes to see him cleaning your arm. Your eyes traveled down to the first aid bottle next to his thigh, bandages right next to it. His hip pack opened on the floor in front of you. His fingers worked gently and meticulously, with knowledge of how to tend to a wound. You closed your eyes again, feeling him dressing your arm in white wrappings tightly.

When he had finally finished, you felt your chest bubbling up again. You had never had someone care for your wounds as he just had - not these types of wounds. You swallowed hard, not wanting him to see. But he had and you felt him gently grasp the back of your neck and pulled you into his chest. Your limbs tangled with one another on the floor, a mismatch of different lengths folded over each other. For the first time in hours, you felt your body go slack.

Finally, you let out quiet sob, holding onto his flack jacket tightly. His lean arms fastened themselves over your shoulders. You could feel his breath against your ear, pulling you close.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again. “Everything is going to be okay.”

#kakashi hatake #kakashi #naruto #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x reader #naruto prompts #naruto shippuden #hatake kakashi #tw: self half #tw: mental health #tw: injury

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1990jeevas · 3 years

Note

I love it when people talk about things they're passionate about, tell me something cool!! Anything you want, just something you find interesting or want to talk about :D

hello anon my beloved, I am in a bad mood so you will be receiving a passionate, yet lowkey of pissy rant about why villainizing bakugou makes me wanna vomit and its NOT just because I'm a dumbass kinnie :)

tws: child abuse (emotional and physical), near death expierences, bullying, kidnapping, suffocation, lots of trauma in general tbh. if you've seen bnha then basically just keep all the general triggering plot stuff in mind incase i missed any warnings

also, note: I havent caught up on bnha in a minute, I'm at like the start of the war arc but I barely remember shit there tbh so like. probs missing new stuff. also bnha spoiler warnings lol

so, for starters, the homie bakugou has like,, a good handful of issues that come from his childhood that explain why he's an ass. he was always praised and never actually reprimanded for being a twat which led to him having a huge ego that ended up fucking him over majorly. this ego was something that his mother acknowledged him having, but literally didnt try to fix it with anything other than violence. see here:

like, instead of trying to help him, she hits and insults him, which is probably what led to his weird inferiority/superiority complex. being constantly told by others that you're outstanding and one day you'll be a top hero because you're rude and aggressive and then going home and being hit by your mother for those exact same behaviors is bound to fucking confuse a child.

so like, now that we've established that its definetly canon that his mother (parents? I think he said parents at some point but masaru doesn't seem like the type so 🤷) hits him though we don't know how much or how often (though if bakugou was as much of a little shit back then ((which as far as we've seen- he was)) then it was probably often), lets talk about how regardless of all that 1) hitting your kids as "discipline" not only doesn't work but is abusive lol like idc if it's spanking/popping them on the mouth for talking shit, slapping them across the face "on occasion", etc. shits not okay 2) hitting your kids!!!! does not work!!!!!!!! it is literally PROVEN not to work!!!!!!!! hitting a child who has done something wrong doesnt teach them to stop doing something it teaches them to be scared of you, which will cause the child to withdraw, removing part of their support system (assuming said abusive parents would even offer that up) and will most likely lead to them thinking they're a bad person, not that their actions were bad, which are two different things. so, ya know, that would clearly have an effect on a kid. like, as someone with a mother who reminds me all too much of mitsuki: I have acted like a complete shitbag and taken my anger out on people to feel better in the past because of the way my mother treated me. though it was nowhere near what bakugou did, I still know first fucking hand what a mother hitting and insulting her child will do, especially if they have no proper outlet for that (friends, a safe place to vent) which bakugou never fucking had.

theres also the fact that just talking to your kid the way mitsuki does (saying it's his fault he was kidnapped because he's weak, all while hitting him) is not??? okay?????? ive seen people arguing that this was just a joke in poor taste but like her son was KIDNAPPED and even if it was a "joke" there's literally NO WAY that would EVER?? BE FUNNY??????? she just sounds like the kind of parent who at the very least says shit without thinking that would traumatize bakugou (because being told right after being kidnapped it's your fucking fault by your mother is absolutely traumatizing) but it comes across as her being emotionally abusive.

mitsukis character as a whole comes across as a shitty mom who doesn't realize she's a shitty mom and thinks bakugou being an ass isn't at least partially her fault even though she's admitted to realizing he has always had an ego problem and doing nothing to fix it except for hitting and yelling which obviously did nothing but make him just as loud and violent as she is.

this is obviously not the entire reason why he's a dick but he was never properly taught that the shit he was doing wasn't okay and people not stopping it and/or praising him endlessly even tho he was a bully is basically the same as encouraging it, thank you very much.

moving on from that, let's talk about bakugous other traumas and how he naturally responds to them. hint: it's with either full blown panic or a fight response (verbal or physical, though usually physical. also sometimes it's the panic followed by the fight response.)

so far in bnha (keep in mind that I am not caught up, I've only read up to the beginning of the war arc and i barely remember those bits so) bakugou has...

nearly died via sludge villain (he was unable to move and was being suffocated to death- keep this in mind)

lost for the first time ever and against deku of all people (this nearly sent him into a full blown panic attack, likely because of that sexy little inferiority/superiority complex combo. think of this as like. gifted kid burnout lite. he has always been the best of the best and now suddenly he is being beaten by somebody who has always been weaker than him, which immediately makes him start thinking he was never actually that good, he's actually a fucking failure, a goddamn fraud)

won the sports festival by default (bakugou counts this as yet another failure because todoroki didnt try his best. had bakugou lost to todoroki full strength, he would've taken 2nd place with a bit of bitching, but he still wouldve taken it rather than refuse the medal as it would be a reminder that he failed. instead of accepting that like UA shouldve, the staff chained and muzzled him on live television and then had all might, his fucking idol, force the medal into his mouth. remember the sludge villain incident and how he couldnt move and was suffocating to death? yeah.)

been kidnapped because of the way he reacted to winning during the sports festival (he was aggressive and tried to refuse the medal because he felt he didnt deserve it and was then retraumatized by being chained up and muzzled. his "villainous attitude" was a fucking trauma response, do not tell me otherwise)

was then chained up once again by the LOV after being kidnapped,,, do we see the "retraumatize bkg" theme yet?

"ended all might" (he literally blames himself for all mights retirement because had he just not have been weak, all might wouldve had more time, right?)

my point with all of these is that bakugou has been severely traumatized and has then had his trauma responses (aggression, fight) used to further demonize him. not all people with trauma react the fucking same and the way the fandom just refuses to acknowledge anger as a valid form of trauma response is gross as hell.

moving away from that topic, bakugou has literally never had any actual friends, they all just used him and didn't care about him which absolutely will fuck up a kid, especially one who already has all that other shit going on. bakugou deadass never had a support system or people to help him grow as a person, let alone properly work through his fucking emotions so it's not surprising that he would take out his bullshit on the one person who tried to help him especially considering he saw dekus actions as him thinking he was weak. bakugou was raised to not seek help, he thought somebody strong shouldnt ever need it, so for somebody like deku (who bakugou percieved as weak and helpless already) to offer up help? deku must obviously think bakugou is even weaker than him, what other explanation could their possibly be!

speaking of which, there's his heaps of insecurities that he basically hid by being a twat and bullying others for most of his life. kid was so insecure he bullied deku for fucking years cause he thought deku looked down on him, thought he was better than him, etc. and that only got worse bc his idol then decided to take deku in, train him and even give him his quirk. there's probably some shit im missing but still he's got issues and always has had issues. that being said, he's actually improving and working them out now which is what makes him a really good, interesting character. it's also nice to see a character who is a dick without some tragic backstory (like his backstory is sad but its not the classic "my family was fucking slaughtered and i turned into a raging bitch who murders people" type shit) bc that rarely happens and it's like most assholes don't actually have a story like that they're just assholes lol

now lets talk improvement! lil bitch has been getting better since he got into UA and im so happy abt it!! he had a rough start what with deku suddenly having a quirk and all but like he is really improving now and it highkey shows that bakugou just mostly needed people who 1) didn't constantly praise him and actually criticized him instead 2) actually fucking punished him doing stupid shit and 3) some motherfucking friends

Since going to UA he's gotten actually feedback from teachers about his weaknesses and how to get stronger, he's lost against others, hes been told he has a shit attitude and is a dick, told he should be nicer and leave deku alone, etc etc. He hasn't gotten in trouble too much with teachers but others give him shit for what he does and aizawa has punished him too, while still acknowledging that bakugou is an amazing and dedicated student, something which no one else had done up til that point. and uh???? homie actually has friends who like,,, don't use him and also call him out when he's a dick. like specifically kirishima has done this shit and him and bakugous relationship is clearly very healthy and beneficial for the both of them. makes me feel all happy n shit, ya know

bottom line is: while it is absolutely valid to dislike or even hate bakugou because he is a massively flawed person who has been very cruel to others, villainizing him for the way he acts which in large part seems to be from a lack of guidance, a shitty mother and heavy amounts of trauma, is fucking awful. his actions cannot be fucking excused, he needs to apologize and continue to grow, but he is also a fucking teenager, who is just now being told that the way he acts is unacceptable by people who dont fucking abuse him (and I swear to god if any people who think mitsuki isnt abusive interact with this fucking post I will fullstop hardblock you, I do not fucking care) and actually treat him like a normal person instead of some prodigy child or someone who needs to be fixed.

people are free to debate my points or whatever bc I know some of this stuff is up to interpretation but like. dni if you're just here to say you hate bakugou for xyz reason or that he's irredeemable. also especially dni if you compare him to fucking endeavor yall bitches make me gag.

anyways thxs for the ask anon <33 sorry this is a kinda messy info dump lol

#shit self #asks #boku no hero academia #long post #bakugou katsuki #yes i am a bakugou kinnie shut the fuck up /lh #this is all /nm btw its just so much easier to make my long posts aggressive yk #this is just how i talk irl but Better Formatted #info dump #kinz #anti mitsuki #discourse #bangerz

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actual-fucking-clown · 3 years

Text

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this.

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them.

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems.

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered.

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough.

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon.

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown.

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile.

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless.

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke.

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent. A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too.

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

#bnha x reader #mha xreader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa #my first fic #mha #bnha

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

Text

guys oh my GOD i just found my newsies rants from the first BIG night of my hyperfixation and. hng. there's so much good content in here

*messages copy and pasted under the cut!

NOTE: all of these messages are from April 19, 2020- the first day of my newsies hyperfixation!

listen racetrack and crutchie are some of my babes and i fucking love them

BEN TYLER COOK IS THE ONLY VALID RACETRACK AND I DESPERATELY NEED THEM TO REDO THE CAST ALBUM TO GIVE HIM THE SPOTLIGHT HE DESERVES

I CANT LISTEN TO KING OF NEW YORK ANYMORE BECAUSE. IT ISNT RACE. dont get me wrong racetrack from the soundtrack is like. really good but he ain't livesies racetrack good

also everyone ships race and spot which is valid but idk I just feel like race and albert have more in common?? like. spot is a great character and all of the Brooklyn Newsies deserve so much more screentime and so much more content but i just feel like the only reason people like race × spot is because of the Inner-Bourough Relations and the territorial stuff (bc the brooklyn bois are pretty spooky) but race × albert is so much cuter ?? like they're both Manhattan newsies and they share a lot more screentime and they have a lot more in common and like !! their interactions throughout King of New York makes me cry so hard i love them so much

something is telling me that if i dont learn All Of The Newsies by tomorrow i'm gonna scream

so i think later today i'm gonna rewatch livesies, then watch 92sies, then make myself a google slides presentation with a pic of each newsie and their name so i can figure this shit out

JACK AND CRUTCHIE ARE BROTHERS BUT WE STILL STAN THAT JACK/RACETRACK DYNAMIC

if anyone tries to tell me that racetrack ain't Jack's #2 Dude i WILL bite i dont care

like??? we literally see race kinda take charge after the bulls bust up their strike and jack fucks off to be Emo On The Rooftop (which is still valid and i love him for it) but race steps in and lifts everyone's spirits again and god i love him for it

it's real "Loving Racetrack Higgins Hours"

OH OH OKAY SO THE EMO ROOFTOP SCENE

LIKE. FUCK. people kinda got on Jack's case for leaving after the big fight breaks out and the bulls take Crutchie, but what else can he do? jack is 17. he's scared. he's dealing with his own trauma after what happened to him at The Refuge (which is never explicitly stated, but his reaction leads me to believe there was definitely some kind of ab•se (and its canon that the officers at the refuge don't feed the kids as they should)). he's seen as the tough guy, as the leader, as the father figure for all of the newsies, but he's a kid. he put his life on the line for them, but that's too much responsibility for a teenager.

jack got thrown in the refuge- a jail for kids- because he stole food and clothing for the other boys. he did everything he did for everyone else, without ever taking his own feelings into consideration; it was never a case of "what's in it for me?", it was always "will this help the guys i love?" and that is Jack's biggest quality i think.

anyway- so, he disappears after the fight because he's guilty. he watch his best friend- no, his brother- get taken by the bulls and watched the others he loves get hurt, and he couldn't stop it. again, this is a 17 year old we're talking about. his whole Santa Fe scene is the most pivotal part of the show in my opinion? like- we see Jack having a breakdown, essentially. "just be real is all i'm askin', not some paintin' in my head" is such a painful line because he's holding onto the hope that somewhere he's never seen is good enough to risk leaving his life behind for, and we see the struggles between wanting to stay and help his friends and wanting to get out and live and be able to have a life where he doesn't have to live with such a huge responsibility on his shoulders.

ALSO THE WHOLE THING WITH THE GUYS THINKING JACK IS A SELLOUT BECAUSE HE GOT MONEY FOR TRYING TO CONVINCE THE NEWSIES NOT TO CONTINUE THE STRIKE HURTS MY HEART

like Pulitzer basically said "if you don't tell them to stop this, i'll personally make sure all of them end up in the refuge" and even used Davey as a plot device, since Davey is one of the few that has folks and a little brother, and Pulitzer essentially said "you wouldn't want your pal Davey getting separated from his family, would you?"

Jack believed in the Strike, and he believed in the Newsies, but he couldn't handle the risk of more of his family getting beaten and thrown into The Refuge, and it kills me to see that he couldn't tell the others why he suddenly had a "change of heart", and that they all think that jw just gave up on them until they realize later on that Pulitzer manipulated him right where it hurt most

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT NEWSIES AND NO ONE TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH SO UH,, IM SORRY YOU GUYS GET THE SHORT END OF THE STICK

listen i could write an entire essay over Santa Fe and i love that song and it's just such an iconic "I Want" song and !!! fuck !!!!!! it's so sad but it bops!!!!!

"folks are fightin, bleedin, fallin, thanks to good old Captain Jack! Captain Jack just wants to close his eyes and GO"

and then theres a really long pause and his voice cracks and the next line just ?? hurts me ??

"let me go, far away, somewhere they won't never find me, and tomorrow won't remind me of today"

HE'S SO SAD AND STRESSED AND HURT AND GUILTY AND JUST WANTS TO LEAVE THE SITUATION TO PREVENT ANYMORE BAD THINFS FROM HAPPENING ADN I JUST WISH I COULD HUG HIM

i just realized ive been ranting for 30 minutes i love u all goodnight

#jac txt.#newsies #discord rants

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finnoky · 3 years

Note

AU where Quirin takes and raises Eugene after the DK falls

•| Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts |•

Oh you have no idea how much this enables me - I stand by Quirin raising Eugene until the end of time bc it’s what they BOTH deserve

1) Oki so, here we see Eugene taken away as a baby without disclosing an EXACT location — that will not stop Quirin though, who had a stance against cutting him off completely despite it being Edmunds orders [It made sense to send the boy away but to send him to an ORPHANAGE was another story] Quirin finds Eugene a month or so after they get separated, during that time he found a house and a stable farm to raise a kid on [Gotta have an income] and then promptly goes to the orphanage and adopts Eugene.

By then, Eugene’s name has already been changed and frankly... Quirin thinks it suits him, though he occasionally slips up and calls him Horace. He feels a duty to raise the Prince but also kinda has a “My son now” mentality! Disagrees with Edmunds choices + decides... His kingdom is doomed, so he’s gonna ensure Eugene gets a stable upbringing with KNOWLEDGE of the Dark Kingdom without necessarily telling him “Oh BTW you’re the prince”. Being a father is hard and he struggles a lot, esp in early days, it’s a whole new challenge from being a knight but... Not one he really regrets?

Cue some fluff! Knight-dad trying to raise a baby and establish a life in a new country — Over time he grows and becomes Village Leader + Develops a bond with the monarchs based on his knowledge and previous high-rank in society from being a knight! Gets offered a guard position but turns it down in favour of spending time with his toddler son. Eugenes first word is Dada and Quirins never felt so content. Baby fluff of Eugenes milestones — Quirin has Eugene helping on the fields as soon as he can toddle without tripping (tho it’s mostly Eugene playing and running around while Quirin works) Toddler Eugene is a little darling and knows exactly how to use his cuteness to get praise and sweets

2) Eugene starts thievery / acting out soon after Quirin dates and marries Ulla, though it soon become a hobby he usually indulges in with his friend Arnie [though they take on the names of the coolest book characters Flynn Rider and Lance Strongbow!] Quirin thinks it’s just a phase and leans into the whole calling Eugene ‘Flynn’ because... He really loves the books, that’s not too odd? Though he doesn’t know of crimes + just thinks they go out to play a lot. Eugene ignored Ulla for the first few weeks because he doesn’t like the idea of someone new staying around — He doesn’t hate her, it just raises a lot of questions about his mum that Quirin doesn’t know how to answer... He resolved on the explaination that she was very sick and couldn’t take care of him anymore, though loved him dearly — it’s enough to placate him.

Eugene doubles down on stealing when he’s 10 and suddenly there’s gonna be a new baby in the house. [He doesn’t WANT a sibling + worries Quirin will love the baby more than him since he knows he’s adopted & all that though is too scared to ask] Eugene grows an attitude and Quirin finds himself exhausted and constantly caught in petty bickers as Eugene keeps running away + acting up, especially to his wife (Who loves Eugene very much, of course) ‘Flynn’ declares he wants to travel the world and be far away from step-mums and nasty babies, uhhh Domestic fall out stuff?

Things change when baby gets here and suddenly Eugene is a big brother and Quirin is MORE distracted, sometimes they forget to even read him a story and he can’t stand the squirmy little creature... All it does is cry and take what little attention his misbehaviour had earned him... So naturally, petty crime continues + Eugene starts caring less about getting caught, so it becomes more risky. He and Lance befriend some bad influences and start taking Big Kid Crime. It’s fun! Until Eugene is brought home by a guard and Quirin gives him the silent treatment for the next week. Quirin... He loves his sons, both of them, but he just isn’t sure how to handle a distressed 11 year old and a baby, it feels like there’s not enough hours in the day and Eugene is SET on making life harder for everyone.

Eugene stays against ‘Varian’, frequently makes the baby the villain in his games and makes him cry on several occasions. It gets even worse when he starts crawling bc now he can’t get anytime alone, it’s just frustrating! The solution probably comes when Varians starting to talk and he says ‘Oo-gee’ as one of his first words — ‘Lisa’s first word’ style — and Quirin and Ulla admit that Varian is obsessed with Eugene. It’s sorta a wake up call for Eugene to start trying to get along with the kid, and it works! He finds it fun to teach him things & have someone to talk to (even if he just babbles back) By the time Eugene is 12 he’s calling Ulla mum and love spending time with his little brother

3) Right! When Eugene is about 18 he picks up theiving again, mostly because he isn’t suited to the farm life and it’s easy money (Plus how else is he gonna achieve his dream of financial independence?) He moves out the farm under the guise of finding a new life with his best friend, though they quickly realise it’s not amazing when they get tangled up with the Baron + his antics. Eugene visits home every so often and claims everything is fine, it’s going great, he doesn’t need any extra help + his life is just dandy. His dishonesty mostly bc he doesn’t wanna worry Quirin and there’s been a bit of a strain since Ulla passed away.

Life keeps on like this. Eugene ages, steals alchemy supplies for Varian and hides his true income source because he wants to make Quirin and Varian proud! Varian grows up to be more headstrong in what he wants because he has someone standing up for him and telling him he’s proud, though the longer Eugene spends away the harder it gets? He loves it when Eugenes here! But the house feels empty without him, and Quirin is so busy + stressed from Varians experiments that there’s still that desire to do more, prove himself.

4) Movie diverts a bit! Eugene finds out about the hair glow and thinks... If one person knows about this then it’s him, and takes Rapunzel to Old Corona over night rather than a campfire. Varian is ecstatic to see him though gets confused by a random girl Eugene claims to have just found — He’s about to ask questions when Eugene asks if Varian could do his magic thing to find out about her hair. Varian insists it’s alchemy and agrees, dragging Raps down into the lab! Boop gothel talks to her when Varians gathering all the equipment and talks her ear off about how cool Eugene is and asks how they found each other since the story is weird... Experiements start!

Meanwhile Eugene is talking to Quirin, when Quirin pulls out a wanted poster and puts it on the table. He finally found out about how bad Eugenes crimes are and wants answers. Now. Eugene sits and tries to explain its not what it looks like, but Quirin doesn’t wanna hear it. The disappointment is evident and Quirin criticises “I thought you grew out of this, what role model is this for Varian?” Eugene doesn’t have an answer but argues his case that it was to be reliant — and he doesn’t wanna do it anymore anyway! Quirin accuses him of using the girl, while Eugene insists her name is Rapunzel and he’s just helping her, get the crown, be set for life and never have to bother him again.

Their argument is cut short by a Varian coming back upstairs looking frazzled, says there’s something about the magic that’s familiar but he can’t place it — sure is strong tho, and continues gushing and asking Eugene for all the details of what he’s been up to. Eugene... Explains, his usual light-hearted rendition of a great quest, while Quirin leaves and stays upstairs the rest of the night.

Varian sees them off in the morning! Hours after they’re gone Vari is still looking into the magic thing — that’s when he remembers the old legend about a sundrop... about how it saved the Queen... About the Princess. Varian sneaks out the house and heads up to the lantern festival to tell Eugene and Rapunzel his revelation, but he gets there just as Eugene is being lead away by guards. Varian finds Max and tells him how they need to free Eugene + basically... Helps him escape with fewer pub thugs and more alchemy. When they get to the tower Eugene tells Varian to stay on the floor and climbs up to help Raps - Varian stays at the bottom of the tower for approx 10 minutes before finding the back entrance and climbing up. Figure he gets there just as Gothel deages, it’s suddenly and before anyone knows it Varian is the one pushing her out the window bc he saw a stabbed Eugene and put two and two together. Then! Cue New Dream scene, except Varian is sitting on the floor in shock a distance away... After New Dream hug Eugene looks at him and Varian admits that “Ok, magic isn’t that bad”

5) Oh god the series! First off — Raps is closer with Varian in this (that’s becoming a theme...) so doesn’t just throw him out into the blizzard when he comes asking for help. Instead he and Eugene go back to Old Corona together after the storm, Varian isolates himself from guilt + has a tough time dealing with what happened, but he lives in the castle as Eugene starts getting angrier with the king and wants answers for what happened. He’s the one that finds Dark Kingdom stuff and he and Varian work on it together... Eugene has a suspicion he came from the Dark Kingdom so when the rocks start pointing there he’s like dope!

No villain Varian joins them on the trek to the Dark Kingdom + it’s all fun and games, Eugene tries to get more answers from Adira as they travel but she says it’s not her place to say... All he needs to know is the kingdom fell, and everyone was evacuated... She’s almost annoyed as she explains it, then Hector is treble annoyed when he finds out Eugene was raised by QUIRIN since that went against the direct orders... Though Adira defends it and says he was doing his duty of keeping Eugene safe, it’s basically a rift between them that’s confusing until they get to the DK and the revelation happens.

I feel... Moongene could be a thing in this AU? but since I’m running out of points I’ll leave it with Cass taking her canon role! I will point out! when Quirin is freed initially only Varian runs into his arms... Eugene hadn’t really spoken to Quirin properly since their movie fallout & he’s not sure he belongs... Until Quirin holds and arm out to him and pulls him into the hug too (PARALLLELS) and we get a happy reunited family (tho with some issues to work out regarding somethings... they need to rebuild trust, but work on it slowly. Edmund stays ‘Edmund’ to Eugene. He sees Quirin as his father & doesn’t push as much to reconnect with Edmund... Though that makes it easier in a way. There’s less pressure once Edmund understands and they form a friendship, but Quirin is Dad 100% (Sometimes Edmund gets called Dad 2))

#tts #tts au #ask #au ask meme #tangled the series #tangled #varian #Eugene #quirin #alternative universe

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waynedunlaptheorgandonor · 3 years

Text

caryl first date headcanon

i wrote a stream of consciousness caryl headcanon i was thinking about when i couldn’t sleep last night. no i did not proofread it. yes it is rambling nonsense. yes you can read it if you want:

so i genuinely don’t know what the timeline for canon is gonna be now that we got bottle episodes, s11, and the spin-off, but just for a moment let us pretend that it happens during the bottle episodes and then we have all of s11 to watch caryl trying to figure out how to navigate a relationship with each other

cuz like, they gon fuck right away, bc things are gonna get heated, and tensions are gonna be high, and they’re gonna snap like a trip wire and fucking ravish each other, that’s without question

so the first little while of their relationship will be mostly getting intimately familiar with each other’s bodies down to every last freckle

but once they’ve simmered down some they’re gonna need to address the “oh shit, wait, how does a relationship work?” problem

cue: caryl’s first date

it’ll take place in commonwealth, and i’ve never read the comics and i know jack all about it outside of what i’ve skimmed, but we’re gonna ignore that for the sake of my fun post

i know enough about it to know that there are definitely places to have a date

daryl knows this too, tho he doesn’t rly think about it right away. at first he’s more confused and sort of standoffish about the whole place, bc he was always a forest-dweller even before the apocalypse, so seeing this new metropolis-like place after years of living like a gd pioneer is gonna throw him way off kilter

right up until he’s chillin’ with judith and she’s talking about how she’s excited to see her first concert, and they have restaurants, and things she’s only ever read about, and then out of nowhere she’ll pull out, “are you gonna take aunt carol on a date?”

and daryl will stare at her

and she’ll be like “rosita was telling me about how father gabriel took her on a real date and how nice it was. you should do that for aunt carol”

and daryl will stare at her

and then will hastily change the subject (she’ll see right through him, ofc, but she’ll let it slide)

but the thought will stick with him, and suddenly he’s looking at the schedule of upcoming concerts and plays and wondering if carol would care about any of it. does she like shakespeare? the most experience he would have had with shakespeare was ripping out a couple pages of his school copy of romeo and juliet to use to light some firewood

but maybe she’s into it???

eventually he’ll reach the inevitable conclusion that the only way this is going to work is if he actually asks her to go on a date with him, which should be easy, right? like, he was ball’s deep inside her last night and told her good morning by putting his face between his legs, so surely asking someone on a date is simple

it will not be simple

bc yeah, they fuck all the time, and obviously they’re head-over-heels in love with each other, they’re each other’s soulmates, yada yada, but also daryl’s extremely emotionally repressed and has the romance skills of a fifteen year old having his mom drive him and his date to his first homecoming dance, only worse bc he never even went to any school dances

but after Dwelling On It for ages he’ll finally get fed up with himself and will vow to stop being a pussy. he’ll ask her before the day’s over or he’ll shoot a bolt into his own foot, ok, no more excuses

so the whole day he’s jittery af

you’d think he’s trying to pop the question, but all he wants to do is go eat dinner with carol and then watch some people recite lines from a play written hundreds of years ago, like, what is his Deal(tm)???

(his deal is, ofc, that he waited so long to have her, and now every new thing feels tenuous, bc he’d rather die than lose her, and sure she knows him better than anyone, but never in this context, and plus her last dude basically bled passion and romance no matter how obnoxious, and what if she realizes just how fucking clueless he is and decides she doesn’t really want to be with a middle-aged man who still gets tongue-tied around a pretty girl?)

(but also she deserves a gd date, alright? she deserves it, and so he’s going to give it to her, even if going face-to-face with a walker horde is less intimidating)

carol notices something’s off with him right away, but she waits until after dinner, when the kids have gone to their rooms and the two of them are alone washing dishes to ask, “hey, so what the fuck?”

and daryl will be like, k, it’s now or never

and he will 100% make a fool of himself by stumbling alllll over his words, like, “nothin’s wrong, i’m fine, everythin’s real fine, i was just wonderin’ if mb you’d wanna, y’know, i dunno, they got all these shows and shit that we ain’t had in forever and i didn’t know if mb you’d wanna go see one? and mb get some food? with me, i mean. like, together. like i’d take you there and we could do those things, like a, you know, a date. but it’s cool if not, no worries, i get it if it’s not your thing, but i just thought i’d ask, but no, you’re right, it’s stupid, forget i said anythin’, hey look at the time, well i’m beat, gonna go to sleep now, goodbye”

and carol will go, “hold up”

and she’ll take daryl by the wrist before he can flee the room (bc he definitely intends to), and pulls him close and kisses him all sweet, and she’s gotta stand on her tiptoes to do it bc she’s in a pair of knit socks and he’s got his boots on so there’s more of a height difference than usual, and after she’s successfully managed to keep daryl from falling straight into a panic spiral, she’ll whisper, “i’d love to, let’s go this weekend”

and then she’ll just turn back to doing dishes without another word on the matter

(bc, as previously stated, she knows daryl better than anyone, and she knows exactly what all his insecurities are and how much it must have taken him to ask her that, and so she’s not gonna harp on it or tease him)

(daryl recognizes this and loves her desperately for it)

the actual date is way easier than daryl expected

bc he spent all this time hyping it up, but when it comes right down to it, he just gets to spend a night with carol where they don’t have the kids to worry about, or any council business, and they just get to enjoy each other’s company

she even dressed up a little for him, which was unnecessary, but he most certainly appreciates it and can’t wait to tear the outfit off of her later

(it does make him regret the fact that he’s only had one pair of pants for the past ten years, but she doesn’t seem to mind)

they end up seeing a shakespeare play

daryl understands like 2% at best, but carol holds his hand and rests her head on his shoulder the whole time, and apparently it’s a comedy bc she laughs a lot, and that alone makes it worth it

they fuck like crazy when they get home, obviously

but it’s different than it had been previously, bc now their “togetherness” seems more solidified

like, they’re officially a “couple” now

like the type of couple that gets a babysitter for the night so they can go to the apocalyptic version of dinner and a movie together and then have sex and then fall asleep right afterwards bc they’re domestic af

and like, deep down both of them knows that this isn’t the life that they’re meant to live in forever, a la commonwealth/domestic bliss, and he wasn’t kidding when he told her new mexico was still out there, and he can feel a shift coming sooner rather than later

but he also knows they’ll be together when it happens, and they’ll figure out their own version of “date night” when they’re out exploring

but for now he’s content to do it the old fashioned way, though

when she falls asleep on his chest that night he rubs her back and kisses the top of her head, and he’s already planning their next night out

he might pick a show with modern english, though

but it’s not required

just so long as they’re together

the end

#this was just me writing down the words my brain was thinking #didn't reread it #p sure it's in like five different tenses #but i stand by it #early caryl relationship will be so awk and adorable #caryl #twd #dunlap tp

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aquaticalay · 4 years

Text

I Know You Forever (Din Djarin x Reader)

Summary : Din thinks you deserve better. You ask him why.

Warning : mentions of blood, is fluff a warning?

Word count : 1.4k

Note : I found out that the Mando'a equivalent to 'I love you' is 'I Know You Forever' when directly translated. And I think it's beautiful. I literally spent a lot of time looking at Mando'a phrases for prompts

Also, it's good to be posting here again! I decided to write a bunch of one shots before committing to a series again:)

I've reuploaded this bcs it didn't show in the tags

"You don't deserve this," Din whispered under his breath. The words were so weak from exhaustion, it was almost impossible to make out. Not to mention the distorted layer the modulator added to them.

"What do you mean?" You hummed, and it made Din somewhat furious. He did not need a mirror to tell that his face was fuming red. He wasn't angry, though. He was frustrated. How could you not see yourself the way he did? How dare you think you deserve a life of violence, when you could settle down and spend your days safe and sound?

You were sat on the floor of the Razor Crest after a rather violent encounter with a band of pirates, stitching a cut on your bicep. There were no bacta left, so good ol' needle and thread would have to do. The wound had been gushing with blood just moments earlier, but a piece of bundled cloth and pressure did wonders to stop the bleeding.

"You deserve better," he said, leaning on the stairs that lead to the cockpit, arms crossed across his chest. You could tell by the way his voice was briefly cut short by his own shallow breath that he was struggling to keep his own voice monotonous— that there was far deeper meaning behind the seemingly emotionless sentence.

"Do I?"

Fuck. You.

Din hated this. He hated the way you toyed with your words. He hated that you were able to force him out of his shell, to coax his intentions and strip layers down, piece by piece, until it was bare to the very core. He hated that you always knew how to get around his secrecy.

He hated that he had a strong desire churning in his gut to open himself up to you.

Whether it was your fault or his, he did not know.

"You do," he managed to say through gritted teeth. The child was asleep in his bunk, so he did not have an excuse to get out of this conversation, like he sometimes did when things got too... intense.

"What—" you winced, cutting the final thread,— "What makes you think I deserve better, but you don't?"

Gently, you cleaned up the excess blood and tidied the medpac. Your bruised fingers danced on the box so graciously. On their own, no one would've thought the destruction they could bring. But if they saw who those hands belonged to— if they saw you— suddenly the cuts and the discolored patches of skin from the wounds along your revealed skin made sense. Suddenly they were able to link the precision of your hands to the ferocity behind your eyes.

Unlike him, you don't hide under beskar. Your battle scars were on display as if you were proudly showing the universe how much you can take— how much you've been through.

They were like spoils of war. They told your story. Unlike Din, who would rather keep every single story he had buried deep within his heart a secret.

Din stayed quiet. He didn't really know how to answer your question. You've been in the game for as long as he has. You chose this life, like him.

"I don't... know," he managed to say.

But he knew. He always knew why.

He loved you. That was something that took a long time for him to come to terms with, but he finally did.

The truth is, you didn't necessarily deserve a better life than him. He just wants you to have a better life.

One of these days, you'll get hurt. It happens to everyone he has ever worked with; it was a pattern he simply could not ignore anymore. And if you go where he can't follow... he can't possibly live with himself.

"Then quit saying that, tin man," You chuckled wholeheartedly, "I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions."

You grabbed a metal railing and pulled yourself up, only to get light headed and stumble across the floor.

You cursed under your breath. You should have expected that. You had lost a lot of blood, after all.

"Whoa," Din managed to catch you before you fell, holding your waist steady, "Easy."

"Stupid blood loss," you managed to crack a smile. Looking into his dark T-visor, you could only imagine he was smiling with you.

Even if he was, you doubt he'd ever tell.

"You need to rest," he said softly, his thumb circling ever so slightly against your waist. You held on to his shoulder and pushed yourself away, balancing yourself to stand up on your own.

"I will."

"Now," he said sternly.

You looked straight into where his eyes would be behind the helmet. He looked so... cold. All the damn time. If it weren't for the little things— like how his body would relax when you'd place your hand on his shoulder, or how he had held you up just now, you wouldn't assume he was organic underneath.

"What?" Din asked, confused. He caught you staring.

"Nothing," you slumped back down to the floor, taking his advice on resting. "You're just— you seem cold," you blurted your thoughts out.

"I'm not," Din said, a little too defensively. His voice cracked at the thought that the only person he ever loved perceived him as heartless.

You gave him a lopsided grin. "You're not," you agreed, "You just seem like it. If you were, you wouldn't have taken the child under your care—" you paused, trying to find the words to say next, "—If you were, you wouldn't have thought I deserved better."

But you do, Din wanted to say, you deserve the stars and moons, you deserve the universe, but you settled for this... life.

Why would any one in the right mind do that?

But he decided to keep his words to himself this time.

You watch as the quiet man slowly sat down across from you. He might not admit that he was exhausted, but you saw that he didn't hold himself as rigidly as he normally would.

He was just as tired as you were, minus the blood loss.

"I care about you," you admitted shyly, "I really do. And if I deserve anything, I deserve a lifetime of fighting by your side. I want a lifetime of fighting by your side."

Din froze. This wasn't the first you had left him speechless.

"Din?" You called, trying to get a response out of him. His name rolled off your tongue like syrup, and it was only more meaningful because you only ever addressed him by his birth name in private.

"It would be my honor," Din finally said, "To fight by your side for the rest of my life."

Din had no fear of death. Part of being a Mandalorian is having a resolute acceptance of death. He knew that death was a matter of how and not if, so it made sense to him to be more concerned about dying a warrior's death than death itself. He was fully aware that all things age, all things die. Everything that was formed by the universe becomes one with it again, someway, somehow.

But you make him want to cling to life a little longer.

"Din?" You called out again.

"Yes?"

"I know you forever," you hummed sincerely, leaning forward and mindlessly tracing your fingers on the cheek of his helmet.

And Din swore his heart skipped a beat.

He knew you had bought a Mando'a to Galactic Basic dictionary that included common phrases at a junkyard as a joke, and he knew you started reading it in your spare time. He assumed you were just bored. He didn't expect...

Unable to read Din's silence, you smiled sadly. "You don't have to say it back. I just wanted you to know—"

"I— I know you forever, too." He cut you off. Despite the crack in his voice, there was no hesitation.

Gently, he cupped your face, bringing you closer to him as he pressed his helmet, where his forehead would be, against yours, your warm skin nearly sizzling against the cool beskar. Din closed his eyes at first, but when he opened them a few moments later, he saw that your eyes were shut, your facial features more relaxed than he had ever seen. You melted into his arms, and suddenly he understood why people feared death.

Because now, he had you and the child. He had something to live for.

-end

#din djarin imagines #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mando imagines #mando imagine #mando x reader #mando #the mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #mandalorian

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honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

Text

through the burning shell

Hello it’s been 84 years.

This is fun :): I wrote this as a Christmas present for @obsidianfr3sk (YES DAWNIE KEEP POSTING YOU CHRISTMAS FICS DURING MARCH. YOU GO GIRL) and it’s a sequel to my other fic “through the bleeding shell” where I basically try to save Simon and Hugh from the queerbaiting MM turned them into by adding a certain degree of complexity to their relationship. This is a story about gays, grief and a dead friend + Simon defending Nova bc I don’t roll with Supernova. Hence, I am not morally obligated to obey canon <3

Anyway afgdhjafghsj i don’t think you need to read the first part to understand this, and I hope you like it <3. I don’t want to give much away, but this sort of turned into a collaboration that got out of control and @obsidianfr3sk might write a third part in the future ;)

through the burning shell

“There have been rumors that the public revealing of Agent N is to include a public execution as well.”

Being all together, right there, Simon saw Hugh narrowing his eyes, staring directly at Genissa Clark, formerly Frostbite, now neutralized, along with the rest of her team.

Well.

Almost all of them.

“That’s true.” Hugh started, and Simon couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t have answered. A part of him was getting a pretty bad feeling from this. “For his crimes against humanity, Ace Anarchy has been sentenced to death.”

“Why stop there?” Said Genissa. “I would argue that his accomplices deserve the same fate.”

The same fate.

His brain struggled to make a connection between that sentence and the one Hugh had uttered. At first, he didn’t understand. A couple of fast seconds later, Simon realized that, by saying “fate”, she was referencing something.

She was referencing, more specifically, Ace Anarchy’s sentence.

A death sentence.

Accomplices.

The Anarchists.

“Nightmare deserves the same fate.” Nova deserves the same fate. “Nightmare must die… And I want to be the one to do it.”

Nova must die.

And I want to be the one to do it.

A child killing another child, publicly, with the Renegades’ permission.

A child they had taken under their wing, Genissa Clark that is, killing another child, who had been in Simon’s house, who had touched Adrian’s heart, and who had made bad choices but was still a person. The official version of the events said she had stabbed Max, and Danna claimed she was Nightmare, but they hadn’t taken any declarations or anything, so that story might as well just change.

Simon couldn’t help but feel she didn’t deserve to die.

Maybe because she actually didn’t. It didn’t feel fair.

One thing was sentencing Ace Anarchy, the man who had lifted an entire city, leaving a ridiculously huge number of deaths in the process, who had stolen, broken and burned, who had killed a man (the mayor) and his pregnant wife, who had killed his own brother, sister-in-law and possibly his two nieces...and another, pretty different thing was to allow this 19 year old girl kill a 16 year old one, who had some crimes that could put her into jail for like 3 or 5 years, but weren’t horrible enough to give her a death sentence. She was a minor. She wasn’t yet beyond repair…

And if she was to be executed, then she was still a minor. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that. She didn’t deserve her life to be taken away with so little dignity.

Not by Genissa Clark.

Not like that.

And, stars, please, not now.

Not right now.

It was unthinkable, it was barbaric, it was animal, it was almost as if…

A quiet chuckle.

A quiet chuckle that, suddenly, interrupted his train of thought and, with all the pain in his heart, he was able to recognize in a blink.

Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark, nonchalantly, was blackmailing them. She was trading her silence for the legal permission to kill someone, in front of a crowded arena. And Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark wanted to murder Nova, and Evander was chuckling.

“Is that all it will take to quit their complaining?”

What else did he want?

“Works for me.”

Simon almost flinched to the audacity. To the severity of the implication. To the way he was saying it. So smug. So relaxed, so….Evander it almost made Simon mad.

That was so Evander lately.

Because, lately, Evander didn’t understand anything. Not even because he had a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. There was life inside that woman. Life that had come from him.

How couldn’t he understand?

How could somebody be so cold?

“These are lives we’re discussing.” Simon reminded him, shooting a look in his direction.

“Villains’ lives.” Evander responded. “Nightmare doesn’t deserve mercy any more than Ace Anarchy does. She was the one who neutralized them, so it seems fair to me.”

Villains’ lives were still lives.

Nova was a person.

Nova was...Nightmare, but before Nightmare, she was Nova, and Hugh and him had met her personally. Adrian had met her personally.

And, besides, with this logic, then all the Renegades were to be executed.

After all, Agent N was meant to be used by Renegades. They were the ones who were planning to neutralize people when they felt threatened. But when Nightmare did it, then she immediately deserved the death penalty.

Hugh would understand that. Everyone would understand that, just like Simon did.

They had to understand it.

Hugh had to understand it.

-.-

Yet, he didn’t.

Some time ago, Hugh had pledged to understand. Not directly per se, but he had pledged it in the name of his cause.

He promised he would understand.

And then, when he needed to understand the most, he didn’t.

He said he would.

Then he fucking didn’t.

“How can we run a city, much less an entire world, if we’re busy dealing with every trivial bit of bureaucratic nonsense that comes up?” He said.

“This solves two problems at once.” He said.

And he said that to Adrian’s, their son, face. Their son, who was just trying to help, by questioning how morally correct was to do something like that, just like Tamaya, Kasumi and himself had done, being ignored in the process.

“We need that right now. And we need to be united in this decision.”

“And why’s that, exactly?” Adrian asked. “Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

In that moment, Simon knew Adrian had never spoken to Hugh like that. He had always been a pretty calm kid, who liked to question their decisions sometimes because, as a Renegade himself, of course he would feel uncomfortable or have doubts sometimes. But never had he called Hugh out. Not in that tone. Not with that entire bottle of venom flowing out of his mouth, melting his teeth, and mixing with his boiling blood.

Simon felt unable to tell him to stop, after his own voice had been ignored, and Hugh pretended Evander was the only one who mattered in the team. And it wasn’t that Evander didn’t matter.

It was just that he was wrong.

Besides, harsh as that sounded, Simon still couldn’t believe that those stinky, rotting, putrid, nauseating words had come from Hugh’s mouth. His Hugh. The man he had decided to marry, because he loved him so, so much, for him had been able to see him even when he was invisible. Literally.

Right in front of his eyes, Hugh morphed into a caricaturesque villain. His hands, which Simon had held so many times, were suddenly covered in both dry and fresh blood, red as an apple, but smelling like death.

Death.

The same death that was living like a parasite inside of his eyes, the only place that other people could harm. And the parasite was traveling through his system, all the way to his brain, spinning it around like a mirrorball, and eating from it like he was nothing.

Hugh’s hands were tied, too, and the strings were made of rope, a material he could easily tear apart, but seemed to have forgotten about that.

He was like a puppet, as the press, as society, and as tons and tons of eyes pulled from the ropes.

And nobody knew how to free him, not even himself.

“Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

Adrian’s voice haunted him for days. The way in which he said that haunted him for days, and after a while, Simon just accepted he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it. It had become another one of the wounds he carried, open and bleeding, through life. The worst part of it all, was that Simon knew Adrian was right. That, at this point, everyone but Hugh, Evander and Genissa Clark were right.

But if he knew where had they gone wrong, and if he knew he didn’t agree with this monstrosity...why did it hurt so much?

How did you speak to a person who didn’t want to listen?

And, most importantly: Where were you supposed to get the courage to do it from?

-.-

Nova had spent seventeen days in Cragmoor Penitentiary when Adrian said he wanted to see her. He had been so mad at her, that it caught Simon off guard.

Not that he wasn’t able to understand it.

Adrian had had a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends throughout his life but, from what Simon could see, Nova was by far the one he had been the most serious about, to the point it almost seemed she was the one who would stay. Simon would’ve wanted to see his partner too, no matter how mad he was at said partner, if he knew they had been sentenced to death.

As fast as they could, knowing they were facing an authority (Adrian had asked them to be with him in the room), the wardens brought her right away, in a matter of minutes.

Through the glass, Simon saw her, on the metal platform, with her arms and legs being held, tightly, by braces, which were equally made of metal. For the look in her eye, Simon could almost hear her desperate begs for her visitor not to be Adrian. Yet, he had been, and he wasn’t alone, which, if anything, only made it worse.

Simon, from his part, was staring at two different glasses at the time. The one that divided them from Nova, and Adrian’s glasses, which revealed the pain he was penetrating Nova’s soul with, and also the rage he was entitled to feel.

But Nova looked small.

She, in fact, looked as small as she actually was.

She was almost a kid. She hadn’t yet started living. Yet, she was locked up here, and would only be taken out to be killed.

Nova’s body was shaking, just like Adrian’s. Her chin was quivering so much it almost seemed like she was cold, and Simon felt a twinge in his stomach. He felt nauseous and dizzy. And so evil and so guilty.

For some reason, he pictured a child, because Nova had been a younger child once, full of joy and innocence.

He pictured a child. Just like that.

Maybe she was wearing pigtails, had a gap between two of her teeth, and bruised legs, because she liked to play outside with her friends. Maybe, before she became Nightmare, she had something else to hold on to. Maybe she, like many people out there, had hoped for the Renegades to come, and when they didn’t do it, something became numb, and cold, and she started freezing to death, just like she would remain freezing, suspended in History, as the interrupted life who was the proof the Renegades had become the one thing they promised they would never be.

And Simon didn’t want to be part of that, yet he was still here.

He was still here, thinking about how fortunate he was that Nova wasn’t staring back at him, but at Adrian instead, as selfish as that might’ve sounded.

Simon felt he had lost the right to look her in the eye, having been the one who promised her, on several occasions, that she could look into theirs.

With each one of his limbs becoming tense, Simon took a deep breath. His mouth tasted like bile, and his whole body was pounding along with this heart. It felt like one of those times when you were almost a hundred percent sure you were having a heart attack, despite knowing that, if that was the case, you would already be on the floor crying for help.

Next thing he felt was the sudden and strong urge to speak.

He would’ve liked to talk to Nova, but through this glass, she couldn’t hear anything.

Besides, Simon knew that this moment wasn’t about him, or Hugh. They were involved in it. They were carrying it in their backs like a cross, but it wasn’t about them. It was about Nova and Adrian. There was glass between the two. They could press their hands together through it, but they couldn’t touch the other’s skin. They couldn’t feel the air the other breathed in the short distance. They couldn’t kiss. It was scary. It was sad. And it wasn’t awfully familiar.

But it wasn’t about Simon or Hugh.

“Do you need some privacy?” Simon asked, perhaps to both of them, knowing one wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if she tried.

In response, Adrian turned his gaze away from Nova, staring at Simon instead, nodding.

“I think that would be nice.”

Before Simon could say anything else, Hugh reached for his son’s shoulder, and once he touched it, he caressed the fabric, and the skin beneath the fabric, briefly.

“We’ll be in the lobby.”

Adrian nodded again and then, after gulping, he said:

“I love you, okay?”

The weird thing was, he didn’t look them in the eye for much. He did, but he turned his gaze away pretty fast, barely leaving time to process his own words. For that reason, nor Hugh or him responded.

They left right after that, leaving Adrian alone inside the room.

With Nova, but alone.

-.-

They dropped Adrian at the hospital once they left Cragmoon. There was barely any sound throughout the whole ride, except when Hugh asked if they wanted something from the store, and when they said goodbye to Adrian.

Obviously, Adrian couldn’t get close to Max. Not if he wanted to avoid being neutralized by him, but sometimes, according to Adrian himself, he liked to stay in the waiting room, and help the staff with whatever they needed, for he liked Max to know he came to visit often, and that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t touch, or be in the same room with him. So they just allowed him to stay in the hospital as much as he needed. After all, it’s not like he was hurting anybody.

After that, everything was silent, all the way home, because, instead of driving towards the Headquarters, Hugh drove towards the mansion, leaving Tamaya in charge, under the excuse they would take a two hour break to have lunch together at home. She wasn’t so happy about it, but agreed anyway, because it’s not like Hugh had given her an option in the first place. He had just notified her. At this point, Hugh’s volume was getting the tiniest bit loud. And Simon wasn’t talking about his voice.

Upon arriving into the house, Hugh threw the keys by the entrance’s table and proceeded to walk all the way towards the living room, to lay on the couch, one arm covering his eyes, without even taking his costume off. He didn’t have a reason to, because they were supposed to be back at the Headquarters in two hours and, besides, the elephant in the room was making it cold. Maybe he felt his armor would protect him from what they were doing, and from what they were still doing.

Sadly, the fabric of Simon’s costume wasn’t as warm. And as he took his mask off and placed it next to keys, he felt nothing but cold wind. He was back again at being Simon, and Simon only, without anything protecting him, in the same room as the husband who rarely ever kissed him anymore.

There was an elephant in the room, and it was killing both of them, though Hugh looked like he was already dead.

Simon tried not to pay attention to him, but when he was crossing to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but ask, in an unintentionally harsh tone:

“Are we going to have lunch or did you just want to make Tamaya more stressed?”

Hugh lowered his arm, staring at him with an arched eyebrow, lifting his neck just a little, to have a clearer view. Simon was starting to feel bad for having snapped at him, but not enough to take it back.

Sometimes you had to do the right thing, and sometimes the right thing was not taking it back.

His husband, from his part, looked rather confused, as if he couldn’t recognize the person in front of him.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked.

The question caught him off guard.

Was he okay? Simon wasn’t sure, nor did he want to answer. In times like these, Hugh wanted people to answer him what he wanted to hear and, sadly, this time Simon didn’t have any answer he would like.

“Did you take your pills, Si?”

Something inside of his body turned into a tight knot, and Simon turned his gaze towards him, in a violent act. He frowned so deeply he felt his skin itching, and though he knew that, under normal circumstances, he would’ve just interpreted this as a routinary question, this time it wasn’t the case at all. This time it felt like an attack. Like something Hugh had to take back immediately because it was not his place to ask it, that is: a question he always asked anyway.

But not this time.

Because ,this time, he wasn’t okay.

“Don’t pull the anxiety card on me, Hugh.” Saying that left a bitter, disgusting firm on his mouth, right under his tongue, which was dry. He felt like he had just chewed on a pill.

“The anxie--” Hugh narrowed his eyes, shifting into a sitting position. “I’m not pulling that card on you. I’m just asking a question.”

“Then don’t ask that question.” Simon snapped again, heading towards the kitchen to get a class of water. His feet were making too much noise when in contact with the floor, and his mouth was too dry. It was making him crazy.

It was only then that he realized they still had something else pending, and for some reason that was enough to make him stay. Simon spun on his toes, facing him. Hugh was breathing heavily, and his brows were almost touching each other.

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” He told him, in a dry tone. “Did you want to have lunch with me or did you just think taking a break while Tamaya loses her mind would be fun?”

“If Tamaya didn’t want to be in charge, she would’ve told me, and you know that.”

“Tamaya talks back when she is given a chance to.”

An empty feeling of freedom filled Simon’s body, pushing his way into the hollow all his mixed feelings had been carving at the center of his stomach.

And it wasn’t just about Tamaya, really. It wasn’t just about how lately none of her ideas were taken into consideration. Rather, it was about how nor were Kasumi’s, or his own ideas, when they tried to speak up. It was about how things were getting weirder and weirder as time went by, to the point where Simon would see a very pregnant Tamaya in the hallway, apparently fine, but stating she didn’t know if her water was breaking or if she just really needed to use the restroom (the restroom where she didn’t fit in); it was about how everyone knew damn well that Kasumi wasn’t good at public speaking and that, if anything, it just worsened her selective mutism, and yet many important speeches were given to her; it was about how Simon felt like he was talking to a wall, and how that made him feel, suspect, even, that Hugh was back to being trapped in a closet he was already too big for.

It wasn’t just about that, in conclusion.

It was just the tip of a bigger and more messed up problem.

“Well, if you want Tamaya to go bathe in her Greek goddess shower-pool-whatever that thing is, then fine. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her to take the day off, and we go back to the Headquarters.”

“That would be great, actually!” Simon laughed sarcastically. “But you know what would be even better?”

“I don’t, Si. You tell me.”

It was a rhetorical question.

The nerve.

“That we would act like a team. That we would stop lollygagging around and take realistic turns to have our breaks, because each one of us have lives, and we’re not the only ones who have needs.” And that was about Kasumi feeling like she couldn’t do it today but having to anyway; it was about Tamaya crying in the BBQ Sunday, explaining to her husband how she wanted her baby to be with her, as a baby bawled into her arms, trying to reach for his father, because she spent so little time at home her youngest son wouldn’t recognize her sometimes; it was about Evander claiming Sandy didn’t feel like being alone with her baby bump today, but showing up at work anyway.

And yes, they had pledged to do this, but they were supposed to be in it together.

“But how should I know?” Simon hissed. “It’s not like we’re a Council or anything.”

The bile was all over his mouth now, and Simon felt possessed. He didn’t know how to stop it, and the words just kept coming, and coming and coming, as Hugh stared, half-startled, half mad.

Simon felt like he was a loaded gun that was ready to kill everything that moved, for a reason and a cause.

All those repressed feelings. All those things he desperately wanted to say but never could. The anxiety. The desperate, insatiable craving for a touch that never came. For a kiss. For anything. For a sign. A sign of whatever. One single sign, that would just let him know Hugh was still here.

“It’s not like you needed the majority of us to agree to sentence that minor to death.” He let it go, and all the air, along with his soul, left Simon’s body. “It’s not like Evander and you needed such thing, did you?”

Hugh’s confusion frown suddenly shifted.

Then, all Simon saw was the embodiment of anger, with his cheeks becoming flushed, and his knuckles becoming yellow.

“So that’s what this is all about.”

There was one word to describe that tone, and that word was condescension.

To Simon, the gut-wrenching feeling of frustration that caused him was indiscriptable, and he didn’t wish it to anybody. He would’ve preferred Hugh to scream at him, or just refuse to answer at all, because he couldn’t take it.

He had had people talking down to him his entire life. He wasn’t willing to keep tolerating that.

And in the moment he stared into Hugh’s blue eyes, Simon knew there was no turning back. Because sometimes the right thing to do was not taking it back.

Others, it was not holding it back.

“No. In fact, it’s not about that.”

“WHAT IS IT, THEN?!”

“YOU TELL ME!” Simon howled, getting one step closer to him, and all the memories started flowing...more likely, overflowing, including that time when he had talked to Kasumi and Tamaya in the living room, just like as if they were teenagers, instead of grown ass people, about how Hugh was leaving, even though he was still right there.

Right there, looking like a corpse.

A blue, stiff corpse.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me anymore?” Simon asked, and his voice sounded way less threatening than he had intended. “Why?”

“Are you really going to pull that card on me?”

“I am going to pull it because I want to know!” Simon barked, pointing at his own chest, which was getting tighter and tighter with every second. “Why don’t you ever touch me anymore? Why am I always invisible to you, even when I’m not? Why are you so fucking cold all the time? Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?!”

Hugh wheezed, maybe pretending it didn’t make sense, or maybe pretending he hadn’t understood at all. Still smirking, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stared at Simon, scratching his chin, and clicking his tongue.

“So...Sex.”

Simon’s heart was pounding.

“Yes, sex!” He yelled, shameless. “And kisses, and hugs and my husband! That is what am I asking for!”

“WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?! WE’RE BUSY!”

“WE’RE NOT BUSY NOW!”

“SO YOU WANT TO GET LAID NOW?!”

“I’M NOT GETTING LAID WHILE THINKING ABOUT HOW A CHILD WILL BE EXECUTED BY ANOTHER CHILD BECAUSE I WASN’T ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING!”

“SHE TRIED TO KILL ME! SHE TRIED TO KILL MAX!”

“FIRST: AN ATTEMPTED ASSASINATION IS NOT ENOUGH TO GIVE SOMEBODY A DEATH PENALTY, AND, SECOND: THAT’S WHAT GENISSA SAID!”

“ISN’T THAT ENOUGH?!”

“THAT’S NOT ENOUGH!” Simon screamed, covering his ears with hands.

He didn’t know why, specifically, the ears, knowing that, in reality, his eyes were the problem, because every time he closed them, he saw Nova in that chair, like an animal. And he saw Genissa standing in the lobby, playing with them like puppets; he saw Evander’s despicable smirk when he told Genissa to go ahead; he saw Adrian’s furious eyes as he called his own dad a dictator; he saw Hugh.

Mostly, he saw Hugh, and the caricaturesque villain version of him, which Simon despised with every inch of his being.

Then he was back at the beginning. At Nova.

Nova, who had tan skin, pitch black hair and slanted blue eyes. And Nova, who looked familiar when she smiled, because she looked similar to that man who had come to the Headquarters asking for help, whose smile looked similar to the other person who carried their blood.

And Simon couldn’t help but consider it as a real possibility. And if he happened to be right, then they were failing her.

For the second time.

“It’ll never be enough, Hugh.” He declared. “Because she…”

Simon’s internal knots became tighter, to the point they were suffocating him.

“How do we know who this girl is?” he questioned. “How do we know it isn’t her?”

“Her, who? What are you talking about?”

“Her. The one we failed to protect.” Simon felt a tear slipping from his eye, as he became closer and Hugh walked backwards. “Uh? How do we know that? How do we…?”

But something stopped him.

And that something was Hugh’s eyes, turning grey as chromium.

He was breathing fast. Faster with every second, and where maybe he saw anger, Simon saw nothing but deep, stored pain, flowing out of him like sweat, or like the tears that weren’t there.

There was Hugh’s bleeding shell again, protecting him like he was a small child curled up on the floor, in a ball, through a polarized surface where Simon and him couldn’t touch, and where nothing could hurt him, while everything could at the same time.

There it was.

The despicable, horrid, bleeding shell.

Except this time it wasn’t bleeding. No. No.

This time, the dense, bubbling blood was falling off it, reaching Simon’s feet, and the shell was in flames. Tall, untamable flames, that were burning the roof and everything surrounding them.

The shell was burning, while Hugh was inside of it, and nobody could get him out before he was burned to death.

Why didn’t he let anyone help him?

Why did he insist the flames weren’t there?

Why couldn’t Simon hold his hand?

Why was he so far?

“We didn’t fail to protect her. She died.” Hugh declared, and when Simon saw his lips quivering, he realized they weren’t talking about Nova anymore.

“She didn’t fail. She died. “ Simon saw the silver painting Hugh’s fingertips, as tears started rolling down his face. “She died! SHE DIED, WHEN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME, SIMON!”

The bleeding shell was burning, and Simon still couldn’t find his way in.

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! AND SHE DIED! SHE DIDN’T FAIL TO PROTECT ANYONE! SHE DIED! IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! SHE DIED, SIMON! SHE DIED!”

Their eyes met for a couple of second, and the connection vanished after a blink.

“IT’S NOT HER FAULT SHE DIED, IT’S MINE!”

Hugh was sobbing, like a small child, and Simon was too.

“...It’s...it’s mine, Simon. Always has been.”

And they were so far, despite being so close, that they were left with holding themselves tight.

Because there was no way to get into the burning shell, for Hugh, strangely as it sounded, had never said those words out loud, because he thought the picture on the wall behind him, the one with the woman wearing a floral pink dress with their son -who was also hers- sitting on her lap, would hear him and that would make her sad.

Yet, Simon knew she wasn’t sad at the moment.

He knew her well enough to know she would’ve been disappointed, instead.

Anybody would be if they had to see their family kill the one thing they had died trying to protect.

“No.” Simon declared, calmly. “But I’m not going to go and try to convince you otherwise because I know it’s not the right time.”

Hugh started shaking.

“Si…”

“And I won’t be a part of this, either.” Simon declared, firm, still staring at the picture through the corner of his eye, yet still fully focused on Hugh. “From now on, all you’ll get from me is silence in regards to the issue. I’m not willing to be a part of it. I don’t agree with this. I will never agree.”

“You don’t understand.”

“And I’m glad I don’t. In fact, I hope I never do.” Simon wiped his tears with his palm, and before continuing, he tried to find his Hugh one more time.

He was still there.

Simon hadn’t yet given up on him, but he didn’t feel like telling him that at the moment.

For some reason.

“If Adrian wants to see me, tell him I’ll be at Kasumi’s.”

“Simon.” Hugh grabbed him by the wrist, and a simple wave from Simon’s hand was enough to get it off. Way too easy, for a person who happened to have super-strength. “Simon, please. Don’t do this again. Please. SIMON!”

But Simon did it again anyway.

Later, he wondered what Adrian had felt when he abducted Max from the hospital and left a note for them.

He also wondered what everyone else had felt when the real Nightmare showed up.

Not that he was mad at them.

He just wondered what they had felt.

#renegades trilogy #dawnie writes #renegays #humon #simon westwood #the dread warder #hugh everhart #captain chromium #nova artino #nightmare #adrian everhart-westwood #sketch

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notveryglittery · 4 years

Text

birthday prince (2)

summary: roman had no idea it was possible to die from too much love but logan sure is trying. words: 2,000 / ship: logince (logan/roman) author’s note: this is part two of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! all ships are written implied romantic but i’m not stopping you from interpreting it otherwise. check the end notes on ao3 for credit on these gifts (bc i don’t know where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!

part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety) part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts) read on ao3

— — —

Roman woke to the smell of bacon. And eggs. And hash browns. … Cinnamon rolls too, maybe? He groaned, rolling over onto his back. Kicking his legs up, he used the following momentum to swing himself into a sitting position. There was a little bit of vertigo at moving so quickly, but this was how he always got himself out of bed since it usually provided him a sudden surge of energy. He squinted, looking towards the door, and trying to decide how badly he actually wanted to get out of bed in order to have breakfast. On the one hand, it all smelled absolutely mouthwatering. On the other hand, he was very warm and comfortable.

Three precise knocks made the decision for him.

"Roman, are you awake?"

At the sound of Logan's voice, a smile lit up Roman's face. "Yes! Come in!"

The scents of all the tempting foods were much stronger now and, as Logan entered carrying a tray in one hand, it became clear as to why. Logan was still wearing an apron and there was a smidge of flour on his forehead. He moved carefully so as not to spill or drop anything. Roman hoped the mug was filled with coffee made with too much cream and sugar. Before he could offer any help, Logan gestured at him to sit back; in the same moment, he flipped the legs of the tray open. Once Roman was settled, Logan set the stand down over his lap. His nose had been right in picking out eggs, bacon, and hash browns. There was a small bowl of fruit (with green grapes, his favorite!) and yes, the coffee was the exact color as he liked it.

"There are cinnamon rolls baking still," Logan said, sitting down on the mattress and reaching forward to brush Roman's hair back from his eyes. His smile was so soft and fond, Roman thought he might melt if it were directed at him for too much longer. "Did you sleep well?"

Catching Logan's hand before he could pull away completely, Roman pressed a kiss to the bottom of his palm. "I did, thank you. So, what's this for, then?"

Logan shook his head, as if he didn't understand the question. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Eat. I'll return momentarily."

He was up and gone by the time Roman remembered that his birthday was later that week. He laughed a little, burying his face in his hands. The food was delectable, all of it still hot and fresh. Somehow, the coffee was even better than usual; perhaps because it had been made and served by someone he cared for so dearly. He scrolled through social media as he ate, feeling happy and relaxed. It was an exceedingly nice way to start his morning, especially knowing that he had plenty of things to deal with later on.

True to his word, Logan was back in roughly twenty minutes. He had a plate and two glasses of milk. He seemed satisfied that Roman had finished all his food and, with a snap of his fingers, removed the breakfast tray. He left his things on the bedside table and pulled a notebook from thin air. Roman recognized it as one of his many planners. He sat down again, posture slightly stiff, but Roman could tell it was because he was resisting joining Roman in bed. He wondered how he could convince him…

Flipping through the pages, Logan adjusted his glasses before beginning. “As far as I’m aware, the tasks you had scheduled for today were the following: selecting the name and song for Shoutout Sunday, washing the linens, preparing April’s shorts for compiling, and… corralling Remy to ensure Thomas sleeps well tonight.”

Roman snorted at Logan’s choice of words. “That’s all of it. Thank you for breakfast, darling. I’ve got plenty of energy to get started now!”

Logan tutted and held up a hand to stop Roman from getting up any further. “It is taken care of.”

Roman frowned. “... Pardon?”

“Your chores. The last load of laundry is in the dryer now. I’ve spoken with Thomas regarding Sunday’s video. Bargaining with Remy did take some time. However— Are you crying?” Logan’s voice hitched in sudden concern and he reached over to cradle Roman’s cheek in his hand.

Roman sniffled. “It’s okay, Lo. I’m happy… Just a little overwhelmed.” He pressed his own hand against Logan’s and gave him a shaky smile. “Why did you do all of this?”

Logan shifted so that he was better facing Roman. “You deserve to be taken care of. That is a constant, of course. In particular, this is in celebration of your birthday. I am well aware of the shenanigans made for the day itself so I thought I would ‘jump the gun,’ so to speak.”

Roman didn’t want to be dramatic or anything (hah) but he was pretty sure Logan was trying to kill him. “I haven’t the faintest idea how I could begin to thank you.”

“That’s just fine,” Logan reassured him. “I wouldn’t want you to, anyway.”

Roman laughed under his breath and gently moved away from Logan’s hold. He wiped at the tears that lingered on his eyelashes. “Well, it seems I have more free time than I thought I would. Have you got anything else up your sleeves?”

“Seeing as this garment lacks the necessary amount of fabric to do so, no. However, I did have something in mind that I believe you would enjoy participating in?”

“Lead the way, my star.”

After giving Roman some time to freshen up and change, they left his room, snacking on their cinnamon rolls and milk as they walked. It was still early, not yet noon, and Roman appreciated the peaceful atmosphere more than he thought he would. Normally, there would be music playing, or the television on as background noise in the living room, or the kitchen full of clanging utensils. This was pleasant. Having Logan with him made it all the better.

Eventually, Logan paused at the door between his and Patton's rooms. It was decorated with stickers, paint, glitter, buttons — any and all crafts that would fit basically, for that's exactly what was on the other side. Simply called the Crafts room, it was a creative space available for anyone to use however they pleased. Roman most often honed his vocal talents but he knew that Virgil liked to paint murals on the walls. When Logan led the way inside, the room transformed to match his vision. Warm sunlight spilled in from multiple windows. There was a rolling cart filled with every color of paint Roman could ever think of and more. There were a handful of easels, all holding various sizes of canvases. On the table in the center of the room was a stack of paper bound by ribbon, numerous pens, and a platter of snacks. Speakers set up in the corners of the room were already playing music.

"Will this suffice?" Logan asked, breaking Roman out of his daze.

"Suffice… Moonbeam, this is wonderful! And that smell… Is it—?"

"Jasmine to produce feelings of confidence and Eucalyptus to boost creativity."

“Well, they certainly are doing the trick!” Roman exclaimed, skipping fully into the room. He darted for the nearest easel, grabbing the handle on the cart as he did and pulling it over with him. His head was already full of ideas, sprawling landscapes and detailed portraits and, and, and!

The next hour passed in comfortable silence. They did, occasionally, duet along to various Broadway or Disney love songs that came through on their playlist. Sometimes, they dissolved into giggles afterwards, or they’d pause in their work to send each other sappy smiles. Sure, Roman was immensely curious about what Logan was working on, but he knew best what an awful thing it was to be interrupted while spending time with one's muse and motivation. Besides, he wasn't sure he could find a moment to pause in his own projects even if he wanted to. He moved from canvas to canvas smoothly, a new creation springing to mind the second he finished the last. There was an open expanse of night sky, stars dotted in yellow, blue, and red; a portrait of the lovely Valerie, dressed up and imagined as one of Roman's fellow knights; some abstract thing that was only recognizable from upside down and depended on the viewer having seen Parks and Rec at least two and a half times.

Eventually, though, his energy waned, and he set down his paintbrushes to take a break. He dropped a kiss to the top of Logan's head as he stepped by before taking a seat at the table, and reaching for the snacks. He went for a bagel but appreciated the variety of fruits and veggies, too. A few minutes later, Logan looked up from his work. He looked satisfied.

“All done?” Roman asked, interest piqued once more.

“Yes. Thank you for your patience.”

“Oh. Lo, that’s nothing you need to thank me for. This was really nice. Honestly, I didn’t realize how badly I needed it.”

Logan leaned closer, startling Roman when he kissed him quickly on the nose. Logan licked his lips after, smirking. “You had a bit of cream cheese…”

Roman made a sound akin to a tea kettle whistling.

Wasting no time, Logan stood and positioned himself in front of one of the windows. He looked as handsome as ever, silhouetted by the sunlight. He seemed relaxed and confident and Roman quite suddenly began to worry about his well being again.

He squinted at the brightest star in his sky. “... What are you up to?”

Logan cleared his throat. And began to sing.

It felt like the floor gave out underneath Roman. He might as well have no longer been tethered to his body. It was a miracle he stayed present enough to continue listening; he assumed it had something to do with knowing that missing even a millisecond of this would be the biggest regret he could make. Not only was Logan singing, completely of his own volition, he was singing about Roman. Lines about his bravery and his recklessness, his confidence and his ego, his creations and his work ethic. It was balanced, neither too praising nor too harsh. There was mention of how much love he carried, of how he deserved to receive as much as he gave, of how there was magic at his fingertips.

By the time Logan finished, Roman was outright sobbing. It wasn’t fair, how someone he loved so much, so so much, could make something so beautiful and heartfelt for him. How was he ever supposed to return the favor? When Logan pulled him up and out of the chair, he fell easily into his arms and tried to quiet his weeping.

“I would apologize for making you cry but that would be apologizing for the things I said, which I cannot do. I mean every word. My life is better with you in it. You inspire us all to be our very best and that is so admirable. Happy birthday, your highness.”

“Stop, stop,” Roman argued weakly, pouting up at Logan. “You’re killing me. You’re so cruel.”

Logan smiled down at him. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and patted Roman’s face dry. “I suppose you’ll do something about it?”

“Yes,” Roman answered vehemently. “Your punishment is to be trapped in a pillow prison. A blanket barricade. Confined by cuddles.”

“Oh no. That final one might be the worst sentence of them all.”

Roman pressed a kiss to Logan’s jawline before firmly grabbing his hands. “I’ll have to stay and make sure you don’t escape, of course.” He began to pull Logan out of the room, cheeks starting to hurt from his wide smile.

“Of course,” Logan agreed, in a tone so gentle, it should have been impossible.

Perhaps Roman kept this thief of his heart wrapped up extra tight and snug in his arms, but that wasn’t really anybody else’s business, now was it?

#sanders sides fan fiction #logince #logince fan fiction #roman sanders #logan sanders #gifts for roman's bday #dani writes

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bittywitches · 4 years

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I’m obsessed with the college roommates concept— maybe you’re feelings lonely and kinda sad abt ur love life one night and Grayson offers to take you on a date just for fun as friends but then ~feelings~ happen ☺️

Umm do you mean that one episode in season 8 of friends where Joey takes out pregnant Rachel and gets his crush on her??? Bc yes :))

It’s probably just been one of those weeks, you know? An assload of assignments, tests and exams every other day, most of which you’d completely bombed and were feeling shitty about. You hadn’t had more than 5 hours of sleep a day in like a month, you’d been living off of microwavables and instant noodles, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water since all your energy has been from coffee. And the kids in all your group projects this semester? Idiots. Selfish pricks. Every single one of them.

So it was needless to say that you were just in one of those moods. It was a Friday night, so things had slowed down enough, finally, but it also finally gave you some time to let yourself think, and god it was not great when you had to think.

It had started as just one of those basic thoughts; “What am doing? Where is this going?” which lead to “Why am I even in college in the first place?” Ending with “Oh my god I’m wasting my life and I’m gonna be alone forever”.

By the time Grayson had made it home that night, you were huddled up in the living room sofa under a blanket, your laptop open in your lap and snacks all over the table a couch while “Isn’t she lovely” by Stevie Wonder played on your phone as you tried your best not to burst into tears at the thought of never finding a boyfriend.

“Whoa, I don’t remember getting my invite to this slumber party.” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag onto the single sofa next to yours.

You slumped your shoulders. “It’s not a slumber party, it’s a pity party.”

“Oh?” He sat himself down on the sofa. “Who for?”

“Me, who else?” You wallowed, stuffing some more popcorn into your mouth.

“Why, did you get marks back?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a bit concerned at the volume of popcorn you were putting into your mouth with each bite.

“No, but what’s the point? I already know I’m doing bad.” You slumped backwards into the couch, just wishing you could be swallowed by the pillows and cushions.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your knee, looking at you seriously now. He knew you. Your general melt downs he was used to, but this was different. He could tell something was wrong. “You okay?”

You sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter and pausing the song so you could think straight. “You don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You sighed, slipping your legs out from under you and dangling them off the couch. “Okay, um..” Grayson’s hand had fallen away, and you suddenly felt like rubbing the spot on your leg where it had been. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been so busy lately, and it’s just gotten me thinking about my life in general. And how I haven’t gone out on a date in like…” You had to stop and think, and started laughing after a few seconds. “In so long I can’t even remember. Wow, god.” You sunk back into the couch. “I miss dating.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yea?”

“Yeah, you know,” You waved your hands around vaguely. “The whole excitement of it. Getting to dress up and look all nice. Feeling all pretty.” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head and laughed. “But you know, not that I need the reminder. I’m obviously hot as fuck.” You gestured to yourself, highlighting your nest of hair and your stained sweatshirt. You waited for him to laugh, but he just continued to look at you with that weirdly deep expression.

“What?”

“How about I take you on a date?”

You blinked at him, then started to chuckle, confused. “Huh?”

“You know, as friends. But I’ll give you like, the whole experience.”

You almost spit at that. “The ‘whole experience’?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll get all dressed up, go out to a nice place for dinner or something.”

You sat up now, your eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Why not? It’s a friday. If you have stuff to do you can always do it later.”

“You know where that mindset gets me, Dolan.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He smiled. “Plus, you deserve a fun night.”

You scoffed. “Yea, but not with a boyfriend or anything. With my roommate.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Incredibly.”

“God just shut up and go change.”

You laughed. “I— You know what? What the heck.” You got up, and he did with you. “Ah, okay!” You gave him a quick squeeze before running to your room, and his eyes followed after you, a gentle smile on his lips.

…

He’d done the whole shebang. He got dressed in a nice dress shirt and clean black jeans, something you’d actually never seen him wear before. He’d somehow gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which, you weren’t even sure where or how he’d gotten them, because you couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes to get ready. Nonetheless, he truly was the gentleman you had never expected. This was Grayson, the guy you watched old disney movies with and cried with during finals. He was the one you’d eat whole pints of ice cream with and play The Last of Us with and helped you master. He certainly wasn’t the one who was supposed to be complimenting you on your dress and taking you out to nice dinners. But here he was, doing just that.

He’d parked his car and was now escorting you inside this tiny but upscale italian restaurant, simple but elegant. As you entered through the glass door, the dazzling chandelier above the waiting area along with the gorgeous red sconces blew you away.

“Grayson how did you get a place like this on such short notice?” You whispered to him, gripping his arm, a bit intimidated by all the fancy folk waiting inside.

“I know some people.” He responded, a small smile on his lips.

You slapped his arm. “As if, you don’t even know the name of the Starbucks barista on campus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be cool?” You stared at him waiting for the response, and he sighed. “This place is fairly new. Not that many people know about it yet, so it’s pretty easy to get a reservation.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“Found it when I was looking for a place to take Sarah to.”

“Oh my god that girl from your Kinesiology class?” You looked at him with wide eyes and a grin on your face. “No way! I didn’t think you’d grow the balls to ask her out.”

“Hey,” He said, but you laughed. “Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I was just checking it out.”

“Well either way, she’s going to love this place, it’s so extravagant.” You made it to the front and Grayson informed the woman standing there of his reservation. She escorted you both inside and brought you to a table next to one of the windows. She’d dropped off two glasses of water and menus for you both to look at in the meantime. You peaked at the one in front of you, and your eyes grew again.

“Gray, did you happen to look at the prices before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.” He flipped through his casually, as if he wasn’t exasperated at the large numbers printed on the cards.

“Are you serious? What are you, made of money?”

“Hey, I promised you a fun night, right? I can make a few sacrifices.”

A young man came up to your table, and you both gave him your order. You ended up choosing the cheapest thing on the menu, because a) you didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Grayson, but also b) you barely knew what any of it was anyways. He left, you both chatted for a bit, and he returned with your meals, both of them being some sort of pasta that you were a bit embarrassed about not knowing the differences between.

Grayson didn’t really know that much either, to be quite honest, but for some reason he felt the need to impress you with this place. And he was pretty giddy about the fact that it was working.

But throughout this, you had kept staring at him, frankly a bit shocked at the whole situation you both were in. You had to shake your head to get your thoughts straight, but ended up giggling. “So, you always this sweet with the girls you take out on dates?”

He bit his cheek, but decided to play along, lowering his fork and leaning in towards you to hear you over the chatter in the restaurant. “Why, you interested?”

“No, just curious what it is that Grayson Dolan pulls to get a girl.” You crossed your arms on the table, on elbow propped up with your chin resting on your hand. “Tell me, you have any moves?”

He laughed. “What, that I just use with every girl?”

“Don’t act so modest. There’s gotta be something. What gets them drooling?” You asked a playful smile on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. “Okay fine, um.” He cleared his throat. “It usually starts out the same, I ask them about themself. Where they’re from, what they do— like, okay. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You snorted. “Are we doing this? Are we playing this out?”

“Yesss, go with it.”

You laughed. “Okay, uh well. I like to paint sometimes.”

“Yea? What kind of stuff?”

“Well I used to do more traditional stuff, my parents were really into those pretty realism paintings. I’d do flowers and fruits and whatever, but every since, I guess junior year of high school, I’ve been doing more pop art pieces? And a lot more self-indulgent stuff. And I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, but also realizing that Grayson had his soft eyes fixed on yours.

“What?”

His eyes widened a little, as if you’d shook him out of a daze, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, uh... “ He smiled. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Your face flushed a little bit, and you looked away from him, taking a sip of water to use it as your excuse. “Ah, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Anyways, so do you still do pop art now? Or has it changed since you’ve started college?”

You blinked at him, then covered your mouth as you opened it in slight shock. “Wow, that was really good.”

He laughed. “Yea?”

“The eye thing was good on it’s own but to know you were actually listening to me? I’m impressed.” You nodded in approval.

He tilted his head, chuckling. “Thank you, thank you.” He took another bite of food before continuing. “So what about you? You have any moves?”

You snorted again. “Gray, I barely go out on enough dates in the first place, much less enough to establish any moves.”

“Why are you always so modest? You can tell me you know.”

You laughed. “Yeah duh I know, but I’m genuinely serious this time. I don’t get asked out all that often.” You shrugged. “It’s why I get excited when I do get to go on dates. It’s fun.”

Grayson was the one who couldn’t help but stare now. He blinked at you, unable to really comprehend what you were saying to him. How could people not want to ask you out? You were incredible. Looking at you now, your hair up in a dainty bun, a few curls falling down the sides of your face; your pretty off the shoulder dress that matched your deep magenta-maroon lipstick. And he wasn’t lying about your eyes, they really were so pretty. They sparkled, even more so when you were laughing. Which was usually accompanied by your scrunched up nose, making you look like a cute little bunny. He smiled at the thought, as he loved seeing that expression on your face.

“Huh.” he said out loud then, not realizing when it was he had starting noticing your small actions like that so much.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him, and suddenly, seeing those same eyes he always saw staring at him, he felt almost light headed. His face felt warm, seeing you look at him like that. He was almost afraid that you could see what he was thinking. But why would that be a problem unless…

Grayson slowly widened his eyes. Did he seriously have feelings for Y/N?

“Nothing, sorry.” He said with a smile, looking back down at his food. Sure, he’d always thought you were amazing. You were gorgeous, sure, and you made him laugh. And yea he loved hanging out with you, watching movies and playing video games, and he adored being your roommate, having late night conversations and spending all your free time together…

He wanted to mentally smack himself in the face. Shit, he had feelings for you.

This was going to be a long night.

#not me getting ~carried away~ as usual #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #ask #anon

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your-turn-to-role · 4 years

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This is coming from a place of genuine confusion....but why does a sect of the fandom dislike Marisha so much?? Like, I haven't seen it for ANY of the other players. Is it a "wife/girlfriend of the DM" complex, because I've seen that before. Idk, I don't get it, and no amount of googling has made me understand lol.

yeahhhhhhh

okay, to preface, i absolutely disagree with all of the marisha hate, i think she's a great player and is really unfairly treated

but a couple reasons why this tends to be a thing:

1) just plain old regular misogyny, yeah. all the girls on cr get it to an extent, but it's stronger with marisha - the idea that dnd is inherently a man's game and therefore no woman could be good at it is pervasive even in this fandom, not outright, but in subtle things, like how people give the guys a lot more leeway to do dumb shit than the girls, and on dnd posts in the past i've seen comments like "this reads like how laura and marisha would describe dnd while their husbands facepalm in the background", which like... isn't really harmful on the surface, but i have a hard time imagining matt and especially travis ever facepalming at their wives genuine ideas? like if it's obviously meant to be something ridiculous and not taken seriously, sure, but otherwise, that subtle implication that they see travis as a better player than laura is just way off. (and matt has more dnd experience than marisha but like... she's still a very good player)

2) the keyleth instinct. so here's the thing about campaign one and the characters they chose to play - the majority of the cast played within their comfort zone. they branched out a lot for c2, and obviously they as people aren't identical to their vox machina counterparts, but they're not too far away either. liam's stated he irl would be a rogue, taliesin likes playing intelligent edgy teenage assholes bc he was one, laura is a bit more goofy than vex but she still thinks a lot the same, scanlan is very sam, travis is obviously a lot smarter than grog but he still fell very in line with the kind of character travis is comfortable playing and the things he wants to explore.

but marisha chose a character in campaign one who was completely the opposite of her natural self. marisha is confident and very take no shit and a natural leader, keyleth is awkward and shy and doubts herself and overthinks things and has really bad luck in basically everything she ever tries. and people watched campaign one and assumed all of those traits were just the way marisha was. if you aren't drawn to keyleth as a character, it's relatively easy to find ways to hate her (which again circles back to the misogyny a bit). they see keyleth constantly fuck up due to awkwardness and think "marisha doesn't know how to play the game". they see keyleth be a mess of a person socially and think "wow marisha's not a very good actor if she can't handle this", completely ignoring the fact that she is acting very well and it's proven by the fact that they think keyleth is marisha

(and while she still gets hate as either character, the keyleth hate was far worse than the beau hate)

3) people just, not getting what she's doing. i wasn't in the fandom for the early days of cr2, but i have friends who were, and they've said there were circles of the fandom where everything marisha did was in question, even people not believing beau was a lesbian when it's made obvious in episode one, because what if she's doing it on purpose as a scam? and like, to broaden that a bit, i think marisha's characters and their decisions get misread a lot. i personally happen to find both beau and keyleth very relatable, so i usually get where they're coming from (mostly, bowlgate i was more on caleb's side there, but i still don't think she deserves hate for it), but to people who don't, or just haven't put effort into trying to understand marisha's characters, then between keyleth's awkwardness and beau's abrasiveness i think the majority of what they pick up from marisha's characters is negative

which is a shame, because they're both really good, well thought out, interesting characters.

4) this is going into my own meta for a bit, but, something i've found about marisha's characters is they're quite down to earth and very easily the viewpoint character of the group, in a way? like obviously it's an ensemble cast, but like... let's take keyleth. campaign one starts and ends with her. the very first adventure is triggered by her leaving home for the first time, to start her aramente. she's led a sheltered life up to this point, she doesn't know the world she's walking into - so we learn about this fantasy world at the same time she does. she has the most linear and easy to follow development, her aramente spans most of the story, and once it's done things only get more centered on her. she's now a leader of her people, she's fulfilled her destiny, but that means she lives so long all her worst fears are coming true - that she'll have to spend the rest of her life alone. how did we learn this was her biggest fear? because she's been scared since the start of losing vax, but the reason she has him at all is she resolved to not let that fear control her. and then as the endgame comes in, she suddenly has to face that head on. vax has a week left to live. barely two days after, they run into sprigg - someone who lived so long after all his friends died that he's lost himself, forgotten them, become a hermit of a person who's just living because he's got nothing better to do - everything keyleth believes she will become, and fears so much. but he proves she can still choose to remember them, and choose to live in their absence, not just survive. keyleth is the one who seals away vecna, who's grown so much in her power since that little scared druid girl, she can banish a god. and our story ends with her, and her father, and a raven - she's moving on, she's living, she's thriving, but she'll never forget.

if i was gonna write out vox machina's story as a novel, there is no character who would better suit being the protagonist than her

it's a bit less strong with beau, but she's still one of the more relatable characters, she's a human, who had a rebellious teenage years because of shitty overbearing parents, she's not a magic user, she's from the country we start in (and doesn't have a dark dangerous mystical secret like caleb and veth), a lot of the big turning points in the story have had her take the lead, it's the relative mundanity that gives a contrast to and lifts up the others, while still being a highly interesting character in her own right. beau is a grounding force of the mighty nein.

i personally like those kinds of characters, but i've noticed in almost all fandoms with a main character and then a group of side characters, the main character is rarely anyone's fave, overlooked in favour more (subjectively) interesting side characters, but then because the story puts the focus on the main character, people get sick of them and start to hate them? and in this form of storytelling, there is no main character, but people sorta do that to those kinds of characters anyway. and in addition to all the other marisha stuff, that probably contributes

#but hey marisha's awesome and i love her and more people should appreciate her characters #crit role cast #marisha ray #cr1 #cr2 #keyleth #beauregard lionett #text #meta #cr thoughts #ask #critical role #annalise-inks

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