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julianalvarez9 · 1 year

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whipped / christian pulisic

request: Are you still taking requests? If so can you do soft Christian wanting your attention and he’s just cuddling up to you sleeping on your boobs and then you post about it only for his teammates from club and country call him whipped 🥹

summary: christian only wants cuddles and attention when he returns home after an away game.

word count: 0.9k

going away always was the worst for christian.

he didn't like not having you around to tell you all his thoughts, console him after a loss or cheer for him after scoring a goal. but what was worse about not having you around was sleeping. christian didn't consider he had trouble sleeping, but he sure was restless during his night hours when your body wasn't pressed alongside his.

it had been a fun fact to discover, when you two first slept together, that his disturbed sleep pattern was fixed when you cuddled up to him.

"are you sure you'll be okay? i tend to move quite a lot when I sleep" christian, joining you under the covers just as you were doing grabby hands to pull him into your warm embrace. he gladly complied, letting out a warm breath fan into your skin. you softly whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "christian, i don't care" pressing a kiss alongside his temple, you continued explaining "also, you've been yawning for the past 30 minutes. I'm sure you'll be asleep before you know it".

and it was true. he didn't know how, attributing the achievement to the double training session he had at cobham earlier on the day. but after sleeping with you following a free day the team had thanks to their latest win, he started to think that only you could make him sleep as deeply as he did when he was at your side.

and now that he wasn't, well, he could only hope his racing thoughts lulled him quickly into a deep slumber, so he could get home faster. but after the clock struck midnight, he knew that the sleep he would get tonight would be minimal. christian didn't want to follow your around everywhere, scared that you may find it slightly overwhelming, so during these days that you spent apart, christian tried not to bother you too much, even if you already said it was fine. so, he took your suggestion at heart, and knowing that you were probably still awake due to being a few hours behind his timezone, he messaged you.

christian sent: i can't sleep:(

baby<3 sent: just one more night, yeah?

baby<3 sent: free day at work!

baby<3 sent: we can sleep in tomorrow

you had picked both mason and christian from the airport, and due to your british friend being too tired to drive back home, your boyfriend assured him it was fine if he stayed at his place. after dropping to the store to buy a few snacks and drinks, the three of you were driving back to christian’s place, where you decided to watch a random movie before calling it a day.

but your poor boyfriend, who hadn’t been having the best sleep for the past few days, had other plans.

"i swear i never see him sleeping," said mason in a hushed tone, pointing with his head at your boyfriend, that was peacefully sleeping in your chest. you smiled when you lowered your gaze to appreciate his facial features, peace clearly visible on them. "just my magic powers i guess" you joked, which was answered with a quiet giggle coming from mason’s lips. unknown to you, he had taken a picture of you two and was ready to send to the group chat a few of the guys shared, more than eager to make fun of his friend.

hours later, when his fellow british friend had gone home, christian awakened from his peaceful nap. following the delicious smell that was coming from the kitchen, your boyfriend found you making dinner. he planted a kiss on your cheek and you smiled, gratefully, before asking him to get the table ready so you two could eat.

after dinner, christian went up to take a shower while you put the used items in the dishwasher and started getting ready to go to bed. you realized that you hadn’t checked your phone for the past few hours, and smiled when you saw mason’s message with the picture he had taken of you and christian before, snuggled up on the couch. ready to tease christian a bit, you posted it on instagram, just before he made his way towards the bed, dressed only in loosely joggers and with a towel drying his wet hair.

"baby" christian groaned, a few moments later, when he had picked up his phone to get it charged at his bedside table. "why did you post that?".

you smiled, know what he was talking about. "you looked cute in it, love. my big baby boy" pinching his cheeks like a little kid, which only elicited a whimper from him. "but they are making fun of me" christian replied, a big pout in his lips while he got comfortable against your chest again, ready to watch a movie and get his beloved cuddles until sleep caught onto him, and you dragged his body back to bed.

"the boys?" you said, questioningly. he just nodded, and the vibrations that arose in your chest after starting to giggle made him lift his head up so he could look into your eyes. "what's so funny, baby?".

"tell them to stop bothering you, or i can call the girls, and they will send me a hundred pics of them being the biggest babies on earth".

+ BONUS

#christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic x y/n #football x y/n #football imagine #football x reader

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rzyraffek · 1 year

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Billy (lenz) with an SO that tends to mirror what hhe says even down right to the disturbing phone calls? Everytime i watch movies and such i randomly blurt out what a character says or if i have a favorite character i tend to mirror their behaviors and speech pattern (pinhead is my latest mimic victim 💀)

OMG IM SO SORRY FOR LONG WAIT I TOTALY FORGOT I HAD TUMBLR ACCOUNT

anyways, billy would be totally facinated i think. Thanks for request!! Requests open, i used he/him pronouns cuz that is what u used in request! HELP I DID ALL FIC FOR BILLY LOOMIS AT START AND HAD TO REWRITE WHOLE TIHNGGG (funny at the end)

Billy Lenz with S/O that mirrors him!

When he called his future bf first time he thought he just made fun of him and mocked him :(

But to be honest, guy kinda got jumpscared when he heard the same energy he uses! Like ayo??? Even if y/n doenst mean it and its just mirroring, the guy has no idea! he's just flabagastered by the words y/n spoke.

He's type of person to say ungodly stuff but turns into tomato when somone even complements him! He will remember y/n for a long time. He kinda wishes y/n would pick up more too :(

Billy will stalk him!! ALOT.

It's going to take long time for him to figure out that y/n acually has some sort of mimic/mirroring behaviour, cuz hes not the brightest when it comes to understanding other people

If Billy and y/n somehow get along please teach him how this works bcs Billy will probably mimic y/n mirroring behaviours thinking that its just a game or something

If y/n mimics his erm "weird phone sentences" he will probably either blush or something he is not ready for that!!

Also before they got along every time Billy called to bully people over the phone (there was no cyberbulling in 1974 baby, he had to cope somehow) they just passed the phone to y/n bcs he shuts him up :)

ALSO IMAGINE Y/N PICKING UP FROM BILLY FOR THE FIRST TIME AND THEY JUST SAY OUT LOUD THE UNHOLY SINFUL STUFF BILLY SAYS AND ALL Y/N FRIENDS JUST STOP WHATEVER THEY WEREDOING AND STARE AT THEIR LOVLEY AMAZING FRIEND SAY HARRASMENT CRIMES TO PHONE

I love billy thx for request! IM SORRY IF ITS BAD ITS LATE BRAIN NO WORKY BUT I WILL FORGOR IF I WONT WRITE IT RN

#billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz x you #billy lenz x y/n #black christmas #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons

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barelytolerabled · 1 year

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The Secret Admirer

Part 01

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Introduction of you and the anonymous love letters and gifts you have been receiving. Introduce Spencer, the person who helps you figure out who the secret admirer is.

Warnings: stalking

The sun was setting over the city as you sat at your desk, staring at the latest anonymous love letter on your desk.

You couldn't believe your eyes as you opened yet another gift from your anonymous admirer. It was a beautiful necklace with a heart-shaped pendant, but the note attached to it was disturbing. "I will always be with you, no matter what," it read.

You had been receiving these love letters and gifts for weeks, and at first, you thought it was sweet. But as the messages became more frequent and more obsessive, you started to feel afraid. You didn't know who was sending them or what they wanted from you.

One day, you found yourself opening a package that contained several photographs of yourself. They were all candid shots taken in public places, and you didn't even know that someone was taking them. The thought that someone had been following you and taking pictures without your knowledge made your skin crawl. The pictures were accompanied by a note that read, "I'm always watching you, my love." It was then that you realized that your anonymous admirer had crossed a dangerous line, and you knew you needed to take action before things got even more out of hand.

You finally decided to contact the authorities. All of this needed to end.

A few days later, you found yourself sitting in your living room surrounded by a team of agents from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU, of the FBI. One of them, Dr. Spencer Reid, stood out to you. He was tall and lanky with curly hair and glasses, and he seemed very intelligent.

After introducing themselves, the BAU team asked you to tell them everything you knew about the letters and gifts you had been receiving. They took notes as you spoke, and Reid asked some very specific questions about the wording of the letters and the types of gifts you had received.

As the team settled in and began to make themselves comfortable, Agent Hotchner took the lead and addressed you.

"Can you tell us everything you know about the letters and gifts you've been receiving?" he asked, his tone calm and professional.

You took a deep breath and began to describe the situation, detailing everything from the first letter to the most recent gift.

"It started about a month ago," you said. "I received a letter in the mail from an anonymous sender. It was a love letter, and it was really sweet at first. But then, I started getting more letters and gifts, and they started to feel really obsessive."

The team listened intently, taking notes as you spoke.

Reid, who had been analyzing the letters and gifts since he arrived, spoke up.

"Can you tell us about the wording of the letters? Were there any specific phrases or language patterns that stood out to you?"

You thought for a moment before answering.

"Yeah, now that you mention it, there were a few things that seemed odd. The letters always referred to me as 'my love' or 'my darling,' and they talked a lot about how we were meant to be together forever. It was all very intense."

Reid nodded, taking more notes.

"What about the gifts?" Agent Morgan asked. "What kinds of things have you been receiving?"

You listed off some of the gifts, from flowers to jewelry to a stuffed animal.

"The gifts were always really nice, but the notes that came with them were always a little unsettling," you said.

Agent Prentiss spoke up, her voice sympathetic.

"I can imagine how scary this must be for you. But we're here to help. We're going to do everything we can to catch this person and make sure you're safe."

You nodded, feeling grateful for their support.

Reid continued to ask more specific questions about the letters and gifts, and the rest of the team offered their expertise and support.

As they gathered more information, you began to feel a sense of hope. With their help, you knew that you had a real chance of catching your stalker and putting an end to this terrifying ordeal.

These agents were experts at profiling and catching criminals, and you felt confident that they would be able to help you catch your stalker.

Reid, in particular, seemed to take a special interest in your case. He asked to see some of the letters and gifts you had received, and he spent hours analyzing them for any clues that could help identify the perpetrator.

As the days went on, you and Reid began to spend more and more time together. You found that you had a lot in common, and you enjoyed talking to him about everything from books to science to psychology.

One day, while the investigation was still ongoing, you and Spencer were waiting outside the police station after giving your statements to the detectives. It was a hot summer day, and the sun was beating down on the pavement. You both stood in the shade of a nearby tree, grateful for the respite from the heat.

You started chatting about the latest book you had read, and Spencer's eyes lit up.

"I've been wanting to read that one," he said, smiling.

"Really?" you replied. "I actually have a copy with me right now. Do you want to borrow it?"

Spencer's face broke into a grin.

"I would love that," he said. "Thank you."

You pulled the book out of your bag and handed it to him, and he examined the cover with interest.

As you walked back to your cars, you chatted about the book and your shared love of literature. You found that you had more in common than you initially realized, and you enjoyed spending time with him.

Over the next few days, you and Spencer continued to talk and spend time together whenever possible. You found that he was a great listener, and you appreciated his analytical mind and thoughtful insights. As the investigation continued, you began to feel more and more grateful for his support and companionship.

But as your connection grew stronger, so did your stalker's obsession. You started receiving even more threatening messages, and you knew that you were running out of time. With the help of the BAU team and especially Reid, you knew that you had to catch your stalker before it was too late.

But as your connection with Spencer grew stronger, the stalker's obsession with you intensified. It started with more frequent letters and gifts, but soon escalated to more dangerous forms of communication.

One day, you received a message that made your blood run cold. It was a picture of you and Spencer, taken from a distance while you were walking together. The message read, "I see you. I see everything. Stay away from him."

You knew that the stalker was watching you and was aware of your growing friendship with Spencer. The message made it clear that they were not happy about it.

You were terrified, and the fear only grew when you received another message a few days later. This time, it was a package left on your doorstep. Inside was a photo of you and Spencer, this time with red X's drawn over his face and the words "Stay away or else" scrawled in red ink.

You knew that you had to tell Spencer about the messages, but you didn't want to put him in danger. You were caught between your fear and your growing feelings for him, and you didn't know what to do next.

You arranged to meet him at a nearby coffee shop and took a deep breath before walking in.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual as you slid into the booth opposite him. "I need to tell you something."

Spencer looked at you with concern in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

You took a deep breath and pulled out your phone, showing him the messages and the photo you had received.

"I've been getting these for a while now," you said, your voice shaking slightly. "And I think it's because of our growing friendship."

Spencer's face paled as he read the messages, and he reached across the table to take your hand.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice soft. "I had no idea."

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking about what had been happening and what steps you could take to protect yourselves. Spencer was supportive and understanding, and you felt grateful to have him by your side.

As you walked into the BAU headquarters, you felt a sense of unease settle over you. The threatening messages had continued, and you were worried about what the stalker might do next.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the bullpen where the rest of the team was gathered. Morgan and Prentiss looked up as you approached, concern etched on their faces.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" Prentiss asked, her voice gentle.

You took a deep breath and shook your head.

"Not great," you said. "I received another message, and this time it's specifically about Reid."

The team's expressions grew even more serious as you showed them the message. Reid, who had been typing away on his computer, looked up with concern in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "This is all my fault."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the guilt you knew Reid was feeling.

"No, it's not," you said firmly. "This stalker is the one who's doing this. And they're targeting us both because of our friendship."

The team nodded in agreement, and Garcia spoke up.

"I've been working on tracing the stalker's online presence," she said. "But it's been tricky. They're using multiple aliases and they keep bouncing around different IP addresses."

Reid furrowed his brow, lost in thought.

"What about the language in the messages?" he asked. "Is there any pattern or specific phrasing that might give us a clue?"

You pulled out your phone and scrolled through the messages, trying to remember any details that might be relevant.

"I'm not sure," you said slowly. "But I'll do my best to remember everything and write it down for you."

The team nodded, and you felt a sense of gratitude for their support. You knew that catching the stalker wouldn't be easy, but with the BAU team on your side, you felt like you had a fighting chance.

Morgan and Prentiss offered to help increase security around your home and workplace, and Garcia worked to trace the stalker's online presence. Reid analyzed the language and patterns in the letters, trying to identify any clues that could help catch the stalker.

The entire team was determined to help you and Spencer, and their support gave you hope that you would be able to catch the stalker and put an end to their dangerous obsession.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid fluff

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heliads · 6 months

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Hello Could i request Genya x Fem!Reader where Y/N is Nikolai's little sister and just about Genya's age so they used to play together a lot when they were little. Since Y/N was from the royal family she had little to no freedom and 0 opportunity to make friends, so Genya was her only one and they grew up together. I just picture her sneaking into Genya's room and climbing into her bed when she had a nightmare because the queen didn't like her sleep being disturbed and Genya braiding her hair until she calms down. Nnow that they're older, they're slowly learning that this friendship could be something more. Just a very soft childhood bestfriends to lovers, you know? Thank you anyway

'my home is you' - genya safin

masterlist

A lot is expected of the princess of Ravka. She must sit straight in every assembly, no matter how long or tedious the function. She must be able to converse with foreign dignities without seeming too exuberant or, worse still, not interested enough in many hours’ worth of old war stories. She must connect with her people, but still float above each and every crowd. And, most pressingly of all, she must be able to learn a hundred state secrets and then abstain from the urge to immediately gossip about them with her oldest friend. Especially if that friend is a Tailor and a lady’s maid to boot.

Genya Safin sits across the small round table from you, fingers idly tapping on the creamy tablecloth. In front of her rests a teacup, mostly untouched. Neither of you are here for the tea itself, more the information that comes with each and every delicate china cup. In the process of growing up and into your role as the darling princess of Ravka, you’ve been doing your best to maintain decorum. It would be wrong to immediately spill your true feelings on the latest round of political appointees to Genya. It would also be exactly what you want to do.

You take a sip from the cup in front of you as a way to buy yourself time. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you invited Genya over to your quarters for tea, but you’d like to at least try to hold out for as long as possible. You can do this. You don’t have to tell your best friend everything.

“Nice weather we’re having,” you muse.

Genya arches a brow. “Indeed. It was also nice out last night at the diplomat’s ball, was it not?”

“It was,” you state, eyeing her cautiously.

The corners of Genya’s mouth flash up into a barely obscured smile. “You looked lovely that night. Have you captured the hearts of any more suitors?”

You feel your cheeks heat up and look away, eyeing the pattern woven into the tablecloth even more thoroughly than before. Every girl blushes to discuss potential suitors with her friends, but for some reason, discussing the men and women that you may marry feels even more embarrassing in front of Genya.

Although you love talking over anything and everything with the redhead, there’s something about your marriage prospects that feels almost wrong to bring up in front of her. You want to guard her from it, almost, pretend as if you’ll never have to be married off even though both of you know it’s only a matter of time. You’re a princess, and at some point, you may even be queen. Although your two older brothers will likely fight amongst themselves for that title far before you could ever claim it, you’ll still have plenty of merit as a political pawn.

So, when it becomes clear that Genya is still waiting for an answer, you sigh and give in. “Yes, Genya, I danced with several young men. Charming, all of them.”

Genya gives you a knowing look. “Really? All of them were charming?”

The teasing lilt of her voice brings down the last of your walls in one final tug. “No,” you admit in a rush, “They were terrible, Gen. Like you wouldn’t believe. The first one stepped on my feet five times in one waltz. Another wouldn’t stop preaching the virtues of Kerch beer, as if I’d ever willingly drink anything other than kvas or champagne. And the last one–”

You break off into a shudder. Genya leans forward, evidently delighted. “What did he do to be worse than the others? Did he actively declare war on Ravka?”

“Worse,” you grimace, “He said his sister was prettier than I was and offered to put me in touch with her so she could give me some beauty tips.”

Genya’s jaw drops. “No way. He couldn’t possibly have done such a thing.”

“He did,” you declare, still horrified over the memory even though it happened many hours ago, “I mean, it’s already a terrible faux pas to say someone isn’t pretty, but to say that his sister was better– There’s so many problems there, Genya. So many.”

“So many,” Genya agrees, laughing. “Oh, that’s horrific. You poor thing.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say crossly, “I have been suffering. And yes, I am quite aware that it sounds foolish to complain of being the belle of a ball, but I was deeply unhappy the whole time.”

Genya smiles again, just barely managing to suppress her laughter. “I’m not making fun of you, darling, you know I could never do that. I just think it’s funny that you’re hung up on some boy who’s that blind. I couldn’t fathom looking at you and not being blown away. You’ve always been pretty to me.”

“Because of your handiwork?” You ask, one brow raised.

Genya shakes her head definitively. “A little bit, maybe, I shan’t deny my talents, but not completely. You’re a lovely, lovely girl. Even when you’re gossiping about political matters that you had better keep to yourself.”

You poke her in the arm. “You can’t chide me for gossiping, Genya, when you’ve been practically dragging the information out of me. You’re a terrible influence.”

She grins broadly. “Don’t I know it? And don’t give me that look, Y/N, I think you need my terrible influence. It makes you well-rounded if you’re both angelic and terrible.”

You laugh quietly to yourself. “Well, I appreciate your efforts. I’m sure the suitors will be glad of it.”

Genya’s smile slips slightly. “Yes, of course. The suitors.”

For some reason, the look on her face makes your stomach twist in an infinity of knots, so you quickly change the subject in an effort to see her smile at least one more time. “So you’ve been at this from the very start, huh? Even when we were children, your end goal was always to improve my character?”

“Always,” Genya snorts, “But maybe I just wanted a friend.”

“That too,” you smile softly.

You’ve known Genya for a very long time indeed. Talking about the early days now brings back a rush of memories. You were just a little girl when Genya was brought to the palace, and you got along with her instantly. Both of you were about the same age, and although you were quiet around each other at first, it didn’t take long before you were the best of friends.

The Grand Palace of Os Alta wasn’t the friendliest place for a girl to grow up, especially not when you were under the influence of so much political pressure. For once, though, you didn’t spend endless cold winters walking by yourself through the empty halls. Genya was there, and Genya swore that you would never be alone again. From what you’ve seen, she intends to keep that promise for as long as you both may live.

Your parents were always busy with their lives as royals, so you didn’t see much of them. Your older brother Vasily was difficult, less pleasant to be around than not, so you avoided him as much as you could. Nikolai was much better, but he was gone before you knew it, off to the army and university. He was genuinely sorry to leave you, but he left anyway. Genya never left.

You have many, many memories of waking up in the cold darkness of your room, desperately alone and in need of company after a bad dream. You had tried to wake up the queen when you couldn’t sleep once and only once; your knuckles still smart from the memory of that mistake. Instead, on nights like those, you’d sneak into Genya’s room. She’d pull you under the covers so she could braid your hair with neat, skillful fingers, or you would talk quietly until both of you fell asleep.

There had been lovely days when the two of you explored the castle grounds, finding secret rooms or deserted corridors. After you were taught ballroom dance by the prickly dance master your parents employed, you dragged Genya out to one of the many ballrooms so the two of you could waltz around the empty space, twirling until you were dizzy and fell down, laughing, to the ground.

And then you had blinked and both of you were older, almost adults and expected to make your way in the world. Genya is still a constant in your life, but she’s different somehow. She’s more than a friend, but not quite a sister, something more. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, even when presented with the most dashing of princes.

It’s a feeling that keeps repeating itself, over and over again when you least expect it. You try to push it from your mind, but then Genya does her hair differently and your heart won’t stop stumbling over itself. There is a lot demanded from you as princess, but when you’re with Genya, every stress is banished from your mind. All you can do is think about her, how to make her happy, how to chase each and every one of her smiles like seeing even one more will make you live forever.

This is wrong. You know who you are and what is expected of you, your future. The king and queen will pick out a noble or royal and you’ll marry them. Odds are, they won’t even be from Ravka, and you’ll disappear from your home forever to end up on strange lands, cursed to forever wander the halls of a palace that will always be unfamiliar to you. You’ll go to sleep with a stranger by your side, and when you close your eyes at last, you’ll dream of a girl with hair like burnished copper who used to know you better than anyone else, who you’ll never see again.

The future is terrifying, so you ignore it as best you can. No marriage proposals have been finalized, so you don’t have to think about them. Why should you, in fact, when Genya is here to tease you about your speeches at upcoming political banquets and endlessly dream up new ways to style your hair so she can stay close to you for as long as possible. You don’t have to think about anything else but her. You don’t need anyone else but her.

The thoughts feel as if they might consume you whole. You’ve started sleeping less and less, because whenever you dream, your mind torments you of visions in which you are married, but not to some nameless prince, but a girl with fiery hair who smiles at you like she loves you because she does. In your dreams, you have a home together just for the two of you, a home where no one bothers you or separates you. It is a paradise, and every time you wake up, you weep for the life you could have had.

It hurts to wake up from the dream and remember that it will never be yours, so you’ve started pushing off sleep in order to avoid that awful recollection that Genya is not yours, not like that, not ever. Dark circles form under your eyes; Genya fixes them every morning, chiding you for not going to bed early enough, but you never tell her that it’s done on purpose so you won’t be haunted by her.

She must guess at it, though, or at least be able to tell that the loss of sleep is your fault, because one evening when you’re about to push off unconsciousness for yet another night, Genya knocks on your door and announces that she’ll be forcing you to take care of yourself since you seem to be allergic to doing it yourself. When you stammer about it not being proper, she just laughs and says that you’ve been doing this for years, so how could you care about it being proper now?

You’ve never been able to argue with her, not really, so you push off the last of your principles and let her lead you back to bed like you’re a child again and still in need of her to make you safe again. You still need her like that, of course, but it’s different now. Everything is different now.

You let out an involuntary sigh of relief when your head hits the pillow. It’s been a long day, of a long string of long days, and the thought of sleep is, admittedly, quite wonderful at a time like this.

“See?” Genya chides from beside you, “You can let yourself rest, Y/N, no one will die because you decided to get a proper night’s sleep.”

“I know,” you mumble.

“Then why haven’t you been allowing yourself to go to bed?” She presses.

You look away. “Just busy, I guess.”

You can feel the weight of Genya’s stare burning into the side of your head even without looking directly at her. She has always been able to see directly through your lies, hasn’t she? “Just busy, huh? With what?”

“Princess things,” you mutter vaguely. “We have to, uh, think of suitors.”

Immediately, Genya goes stiff beside you. “Suitors? Now? Isn’t that a little early?”

You hate yourself for saying it, for ruining this moment, but it was the first thing that popped into your head. “I guess, but you can’t be too sure. It’s an important decision.”

“Most marriages are meant to be happy,” Genya comments, “Will yours be happy?”

There are many answers that you should give her. Yes. Of course. I’ll find a way. However, what comes out is a desperate, broken, “No.”

Genya lets out a quiet breath, reaching out an arm to pull you closer to her. “Why not?”

Your head is tucked against her collarbone, and you can hear the even rhythm of her heartbeat like a drum guiding you to peace. You don’t have it in you to lie, not anymore, so you whisper in the stillness of this shared night: “Because it won’t be you.”

It is silent. Absolutely silent. The sound of Genya’s heartbeat seems a hundred times louder in the face of all that quiet. Genya has never had a problem saying the perfect thing as long as you’ve known her, but right now, not a single word comes to her lips. You wait for her to tell you that it’s okay, you wait for her to say anything, but nothing happens. You imagine a thousand scenarios– her, hating you forever, breaking that promise to never leave your side because you’ve done that first by being so stupid as to fall in love– each one worse than the one before it, each one capable of tearing your heart into a million awful pieces.

You should leave. It’s your room, but she doesn’t leave. If she wanted you, she would surely have said something by now. You start to pull away, but just when you’ve lifted your head enough that you can see her face, you realize that she doesn’t look angry at all, not in the slightest. In fact, she’s– she’s smiling.

You sit up slightly. Genya follows suit. “You want it to be me?” She asks at last, voice quiet from disbelief.

“I’ve always wanted it to be you,” you confess. “Is that okay?”

You’ve never seen a sunrise as bright as her expression right now. “Y/N, it’s more than okay,” she declares. “It’s fantastic.”

“Fantastic?” You repeat carefully.

“Fantastic,” she confirms. “I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything.”

You have heard stories of people having their best and brightest dreams come true, of explorers discovering uncharted territories, of brave generals winning wars and soldiers coming home to their sweethearts. This one night blows all of them away. Right now, you think you are happier than anyone has ever been in their lives. The only person who could rival your sheer delight is Genya, and so long as she’s here with you, you know that you won’t have to fear unhappiness ever again.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#genya safin #genya safin imagines #genya safin x reader #genya safin oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #grishaverse genya #grishaverse genya x reader #grishaverse genya imagines #grishaverse genya oneshot

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talonabraxas · 3 months

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The Central Galactic Sun Talon Abraxas

The energy of the Central Galactic Sun is concentrated fire energy that can either be extremely repelling (literally burning off disturbances or energy cords into the karmic worlds) or extremely loving (sustaining, nurturing and transmutative) depending on one’s intention and karmic purity. Mysterious Alignment of Stars Near the Galactic Center When the stars align! Planetary nebulae are clouds of gas expelled by stars at the end of their lives. The ejected clouds are ‘ghosts’ of their dying stars, forming beautiful structures such as an hourglass or butterfly shape.

Almost a decade ago, Manchester PhD student Bryan Rees discovered the alignment of planetary nebulae. However, it remained unexplained.

A collaboration of scientists from The University of Manchester and the University of Hong Kong have found a source for the mysterious alignment of stars near the Galactic Centre. Along with confirming the alignment, scientists found a particular group of leads that is responsible, namely close binary stars.

Scientists investigated a collection of so-called planetary nebulae in the Galactic Bulge, close to the Milky Way‘s center. These nebulae are unrelated, originate from distinct stars, were born at various times, and live their entire lives in multiple locations. However, the study discovered that many of these shapes align nearly parallel to the galactic plane (our Milky Way) in the sky and similar patterns.

This is in the same direction as found by Bryan Rees a decade ago.

The alignment is only present in planetary nebulae with a close star companion, according to the latest study directed by University of Hong Kong student Shuyu Tan. A tighter orbit than Mercury has to the Sun is taken by the companion star around the primary star at the planetary nebula’s center.

The alignment is not present in the planetary nebulae that do not exhibit near partners, which suggests that the alignment may be related to the initial separation of the binary components during the star’s formation.

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kanerallels · 9 months

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For day two of @kaneraweek, behold my latest fic! Canon compliant, set after A New Dawn and before SWR

Read on AO3

It used to be, Hera didn’t have to fix nearly as many appliances on the Ghost. Sure, the caf maker had broken down once or twice, and obviously the ship itself needed upkeep all the time.

But before Kanan had joined her crew, she’d kept the kitchen appliances to just the caf maker, the stove it had come with, and a cooling supply unit. Basic and easy, nothing too fancy.

When Kanan had arrived, he’d almost immediately started pestering her about buying all manner of “completely essential” appliances. First the therma-slice for toasting bread, then a blender. By the time he started on his waffle maker vendetta, Hera had instituted the “buy it with your own money and you’d better have a really compelling argument when you bring it home” rule.

This had slowed Kanan a little, and had seen him heading back to the store to return a few items. But he remained stubborn on others of the appliances— and Hera had to admit, his arguments could be very compelling. Mainly the ones that resulted in some of his more delicious dishes.

Luckily for him, the meals were making the repairs worth it. At the moment, Hera was working on repairing the sonic dishwasher— although she was pretty sure it was a lost cause. Kanan had found it second hand a few months ago, and it had seen better days, to say the least. The filtration system was barely clinging to life, and as a result the dishes were receiving more of a gentle dousing than a proper scrub.

We’re probably going to have to go back to handwashing dishes, she thought, sliding out from under the counter where it was installed. Setting the spanner she was holding back into the tool box, she rose to examine the parts scattered across the countertop.

“Here’s hoping some of this is salvageable,” she muttered— to whom, she wasn’t sure. She’d sent the other two crewmembers on a supply run. Kanan had been planning to pick something up for dinner, and Chopper had been sent with him to monitor exactly how much he spent. The man had a bad habit of spending far too much on seasoning.

As she started picking over the parts, a new song hummed out of the tiny speaker she had set up a little ways away, playing one of the music chips she and Kanan had found at the black market on Lothal. To her surprise, Hera recognized the song.

It was a song she’d heard a hundred times growing up, one her mother had loved. A swell of emotion pushed through Hera’s chest as she remembered Eleni Syndulla dancing and singing along to the song.

Swaying a little in time to the music, she closed her eyes, trying to remember the way she’d moved. It had been years since Hera had actually danced, and she’d never been the best dancer. But hearing this song, remembering her childhood, she found herself wanting to.

The sounds of the violin hummed through the air, and Hera hummed with it as she moved, her steps graceful as she followed the patterns her mother had traced on their kitchen floor when she was so much younger.

Growing more confident, she lost herself in the music, finding her rhythm much more quickly than she would have expected. Spinning, her steps were quick and light as she twirled again— and then came face to Kanan, who was standing in the doorway.

Hera froze, shock cutting through her. Judging by Kanan’s expression, he was just as surprised. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I just came to tell you that we’re back— I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” Hera said, her voice a little harsher than she’d meant it to be. She felt a flash burning across her face and turned, intending to move towards the radio and turn it off, but Kanan’s voice stopped her.

“I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I can’t.” Hera paused, realizing how silly her words sounded. “Well. I don’t. Usually.”

“Ah.” Kanan’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. Perhaps he was thinking, as Hera was, of the weight behind those words. Behind the culture she’d come from, where dancing wasn’t just dancing, but the job, far too often, as a slave.

He was the first one to break the silence. “I’ve never seen anyone dance like that. Would you… could you show me how?”

Hera, who’d been in the middle of turning off the speaker, stopped with her hand on the knob. Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at Kanan. “What?”

“I’m wondering if you’ll teach me,” he said, a flash of self consciousness crossing his face. His tone stayed easy and matter of fact as he said, “If you don’t mind.”

Hera stared at him for a minute. “If this is some half-hearted attempt to flirt with me—”

“It’s not!” Kanan protested. “Listen, I like dancing. And I like learning new things. This is the perfect combo.” Pausing, he frowned at her. “And I’ll have you know my flirting is never half-hearted.”

Hera snorted with amusement despite herself. “How could I make that mistake?” She paused, thinking over the moves she knew. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. This dishwasher isn’t going anywhere anyways.”

“Does that mean the repairs aren’t going well?” Kanan asked as Hera turned up the song, filling the room with the vibrant sounds of the violin.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t pin all your hopes on that thing,” Hera said wryly, turning to face him. “Okay. Let’s give this a shot— I haven’t done this since I was a little girl, and my mother taught me by being my partner. So here goes nothing.”

“I have utter faith in you, Captain Hera,” Kanan assured her, taking the hand she offered him. His fingers laced between hers, and Hera felt a fleeting shiver go down her spine as he gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Ready when you are.”

Pushing the feeling away, Hera said, “Okay. Move with me.”

She started to take the first step— and nearly tripped over Kanan’s feet as he moved in the opposite direction. Cursing, he said, “Sorry, sorry. Wrong way.”

Clamping down on the urge to laugh, Hera said, “Let’s start again— this time a little slower.”

Step by step, she slowly walked him through the dance until he was confident and the song had long since finished. Then, she went back over to the speaker, and started it up again. “Let’s see how you do a little faster,” she told him.

His grin was confident and his grip was sure as Kanan took her hand. And then they were moving, feet tapping the ground in sync with the tempo of the drums.

Their start was a little off center, Kanan stumbling a little. But then he found his balance, catching up with her easily. He’d paid good attention to her instructions, and it paid off. Before long, any former missteps were long forgotten as they fell into the rhythm of the dance together.

They were moving in perfect tandem as they spun around the room, the drums and violin echoing through the kitchen. For what felt like forever, Hera could only feel Kanan’s hand in hers, the song humming through her veins, and a warm certainty that came from having the right partner. One who could keep up with her, no matter what.

And then, with a final burst of music, the song was done, and Hera was standing still, hand in hand with Kanan in the middle of the kitchen. Her heart was pounding against her collarbone, and as Kanan grinned at her, she found she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

“Not bad, dear,” she said as another song came onto the speaker, this one slower and smoother.

“Thanks,” Kanan said. “I’m a little better at dances that I’ve actually had some time to practice, though.”

There was a question in his voice, a hint of a challenge, and Hera couldn’t resist meeting it. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, her voice dry but teasing.

The smile that crossed his face sent a warm flutter through her, and he caught her other hand, bringing it up to his shoulder. “Then by all means, judge,” he said, and with a smooth step they were dancing again, this time a slow waltz like they danced in the Core Worlds.

He hadn’t been wrong— Kanan was good at this, keeping time easily and guiding her gently. As they circled the kitchen, he quietly asked, “I’m assuming that song means something… personal to you?”

“It does,” Hera said, her gaze dropping to her feet. She counted her steps for a minute before she said, “It’s… my mother used to dance to that song. It makes me think of her.”

For the first time, there was the tiniest hitch in Kanan’s stride. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said. “You don’t have to—”

“No— I want to,” Hera said, finding that it was true. That here, her fingers laced with Kanan’s, she wanted to tell him about her mother.

She couldn’t remember a time when that had happened before.

“It was when I was little,” she told him. “During the Clone War, when we were in the bomb shelters. She would show me the steps to this dance to distract me from the explosions. And to keep me from going to look at the ships.”

Kanan chuckled. “Sounds like you.”

“Hmm. Even when we weren’t in danger, I always seemed to hear that song around her.” Hera smiled at the memory. “I even found her and my father dancing to it once— and he’s not exactly one for dancing. But he— he did it for her, because he loved her. And she loved that song.”

Biting her lip, she paused, then said, “She died when I was thirteen.”

There was no response, and Hera dared a glance at Kanan’s face, wondering what she’d find. His eyes were gentle as he said, “The Empire?”

Hera gave a quick nod, feeling her throat tighten. “After that, it was just me and my father. And he was so focused on leading the Rebellion on Ryloth… it was only a few years before I took off on my own.”

Letting out a shaky exhale, she said, “But I still think of her when I hear that song. And that dance is… it’s hers, to me.”

“When I asked,” Kanan said slowly, “I didn’t mean to pry into something personal—”

Hera shook her head, cutting him off. “No, no— you weren’t. It was… it was nice to tell someone else about it. She would have liked that.” She hesitated and then added before she could think better of it, “She would have liked you.”

Kanan’s eyes widened, and then a pleased look flashed across his face. “I’m sure I would have liked her,” he told her, his voice deep and sincere. The warmth in his voice made her suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on her waist, his eyes on her. And… it wasn’t in a bad way.

Kriff. Hera held back her wince. This was the sort of thing she was trying to ignore, but had been finding harder and harder to miss lately. Namely, Kanan. His kindness, and his warmth, and how he treated her. Like she mattered, like his captain. Like a friend and… sometimes something more.

And she shouldn’t admit how much she enjoyed those times. Because she didn’t have time, she had to focus on the cause. Nothing mattered more than that. Nothing could.

But when he joked with her, or made a point of making one of her favorite meals, or called her “Captain Hera” in that voice, it could be very hard to remember that nothing was supposed to matter more.

Even now, dancing with him in the kitchen, his hands gentle but firm, her mind whispered, What if I could have this, and still fight?

You know you can’t, she told herself. You’ll put it all first, and he deserves better than that. He wouldn’t stick around anyways, not for long. Not with that. No one could wait for that long.

“Hera?”

Kanan’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she glanced back up to see him studying her with concern. “You okay?” he asked. “You looked like you were a thousand miles away.”

“Fine,” Hera said, pushing the thoughts aside. “Just— just thinking. We should probably go get the rest of the supplies inside, and—”

“Hera.”

This time, it wasn’t a question, and Force, why did he have to look at her like that? Like she was the only thing in the galaxy, like the stars themselves were shining in her eyes. Hera tried to force herself to step back, to move away.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. For once, she wanted something for herself, one thing that wasn’t a part of her cause. And so she stepped closer to Kanan and cautiously pressed her lips against his.

He went very still, and then he was kissing her back, hand at her waist pulling her closer and his free hand moving up to cup the side of her face. And his response was far from cautious. It was warm and gentle and so completely Kanan that Hera felt almost weak at the knees.

She hadn’t thought that it would be like this. So… right. Like she’d found a part of herself she was missing. And now that she found it, how was she ever supposed to be without it?

A clatter of metal on metal, and loud binary bwomping jerked her back to reality, and Hera pulled back, breaking the kiss. She stared at Kanan, who was just as wide-eyed as she was, and then turned to where Chopper was sitting in the doorway. “What the kark is going on in here?” the droid demanded. “We were supposed to bring in the supplies.”

“You’re right,” Hera said, shocked that her voice could stay so steady when she felt like she was shaking to pieces. “Both of you get started on that— I need to finish up here. And no arguments, Chopper,” she added as the droid started to beep a protest. “This isn’t a discussion.”

Chopper grumbled something sulky, and rolled back down the hall. Leaving Hera alone. With Kanan. Who she had just kissed.

Forcibly shoving the memory out of her mind, she told him, “You should go, too.”

“So… we’re not going to talk about—”

“No,” Hera said, keeping her voice firm and steady. “I am going to apologize, and then we’re not going to talk about it ever again.”

Because that was all she could do. She couldn’t have Kanan and the cause. There was no way. So she met his gaze and said, her voice soft, “I’m sorry. Now, please… go help Chopper.”

His gaze was unreadable as he studied her for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Hera echoed, and turned back to the pieces of the dishwasher scattered across the counter, trying to pretend like he wasn’t still standing behind her, watching her. Trying to pretend like she couldn’t still feel the ghost of his lips on hers.

She heard him step closer to her, then pause. “Hera? Thank you.”

Hera wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or burst into tears. “For what?”

“For the lesson. And… for telling me. Trusting me. It means a lot.”

With that, he turned and left, footsteps echoing inside the hallway, leaving Hera in a swirl of emotions she didn’t know how to put back together. That was so, so stupid. Why did I have to do that?

It wouldn’t be easy to go back after this, but she’d find a way. A way to pretend they were just friends, that he didn’t mean more to her. She’d remind herself that the cause came first, that there were people who needed help, and go back to being his boss and his friend.

But. In the latest parts of the night, when she couldn’t hold it back, the memory of the kiss would resurface. And she would know that it was worth it. And that if she had the choice, she wouldn’t have changed it. She only would have stopped him from walking away.

#kanera week 2023 #star wars rebels #swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #kanera #kanera week #hope y'all like this! i didn't expect the ending honestly #but kanan and hera were like 'what if we kissed hehehe' and who was i to argue?#writing stories is a kind of magic too

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extraordinarybennyyy · 1 year

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remedy

pedro pascal x singer! reader

tw: quick proofreading, mention of death

Everyone has a shadow.

Not just the projection of your figure on the cement ground when you're walking on the sunny streets with sweat passing over your forehead and a cup of iced tea in your hand. Shadows are not only that, the distorted and stretched version of you.

Shadows live inside everyone, each of us, eating us from the inside. Whether they are shaped as fears, insecurities, traumas, anxieties: they exist and exploit us, like a virus which tries to expand itself before taking full control of the host. Even the happiest and bubbliest people suffer from this sickness, no matter how cheerful or famous they are.

And Pedro Pascal isn't an exception.

The always-grinning Chilean actor has terrible demons living inside his brain like an all-consuming parasite. People unaware of his past would probably envy him and every aspect of his checkered world, whose patina is only apparently good and utterly beautiful.

His index finger follows the pattern of the tattoo on his wrist, a P that becomes a V and vice versa. That, his mother's death, being his biggest trauma. Her memory wakes up with him and often makes him pull all-nighter, unanswered and completely useless questions whether he could have helped her spinning and sending him in a vertigo of fear and anguish.

Pedro knows those questions are no use and that, unfortunately, nothing would ever bring her back. However they keep and keep circling in his head continuously, a broken disco on the turntable.

He exhales deeply through his nostrils while glancing at your figure playing the piano. Your sacred and angelic self absentmindedly presses the keys of the piano, hair pull together in a messy bun while one of his shirts covers the upper part of your body. Seeing you, a worldwide singer, in such a domestic activity was something Pedro always considered him blessed for.

The actor is leaning on the door of the living room, a military green t-shirt on. His index kept replaying the same path, a V transforming into a P and a P becoming a V. Same pattern everyday, unchangeable like his past and present agony.

When the thoughts screamed in his head and he couldn't find an answer; when his shadows became too dark and he outstretched his hand to walk forward; when tears threatened to burst out of his dark eyes. In all those scenarios, the only thing that keeps him going is you and your love for him. The only cure.

His steps are soft and gingerly as if he is one of the cats he's allergic to, and you barely acknowledge his presence until he sits down next to you. Pedro places his head on your shoulder with an unusual calmness and silence. The bell rings that something is wrong and he knows you know it.

Your fingers caress his cheeks and your lips kiss his forehead. The music in the living room stops as your hands lift from the piano and you hug him tightly. Silence engulfs you in a bubble in which you two only existed, where caresses and breaths spoke louder than words. The world outside - the press, the media, galas, his movies and your albums were far far away, a distant planet where you often escaped from.

"Sing for me," he muttered in the crook of your neck, almost imperceptible. A simple and clear request, you didn’t need more to understand what he was referring to. Your latest album was full of songs of love, all inspired by him and dedicated to him, the love of your life. The world outside suspected that your friendship blossomed into something more, but you two always returned to your isolated den, where no one disturbed your flower of love.

You nod and he sits up. Finger pressing on the white buttons and your voice humming the song you secretly wrote for him fills the room, attaching to the surfaces of the furniture and the covers of books.

"But when the pain cuts you deep

When the night keeps you from sleeping"

Pedro closed his eyes, lulled by the sacred words leaving your mouth like a prayer. Under his eyelids, memories of his mother take life once more: she was reading him stories at bedtime, playing with him in the grass and clapping at every performance of his.

"Just look and you will see

That I will be your remedy"

Pedro smiled, knowing that it is true. You saved and cured him as if he was a bird with a broken wing and you placed it back. He can fly again, soaring high in the skies but- every pilot has a second in command, and he needs you more like the air.

When the world seems so cruel

And your heart makes you feel like a fool

A tear stream through his cheek, heart exploding with love. A comforting feeling spreads in his veins like a medicine on fluids, with the only difference that love was the cure you use for him. Every fiber of his being enacts again when touched by such devotion.

I promise you will see

That I will be, I will be your remedy

The shadows disappear slowly slowly, the light starting to appear under the thick, black patina of fear and dread. Breathing steadies as your sing words of reassurance. The curtain opens and the lights comes in again.

His dark and kind eyes gloss once more when you stop tuning the song for him, a warm smile stretching his beautiful lips. There isn't the need to say thank you, his eyes speaking enough for you. Eyes say much more than a gratitude or recognition, especially when you people love each other like you and Pedro do.

You placed your head on his shoulders and he holds you close to his body, his hand on your waist.

As every piece of the puzzle fit with his right match, the borders combine together in a tight embrace, you are his one, his forever match, his remedy.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fic

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etoilehistoire · 7 months

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Midnight Conversation

(follows from First Feeding)

He should leave well enough alone. He knows it.

Things are, after all, good. The party trusts him, more or less. They see him as one of their own – not enough, perhaps, to have his back in a pinch, not enough to truly feel safe, but he can rely on them in battle. They’ll fight at his side and heal him when he’s hurt, and really, how much more can anyone realistically ask for?

And then there’s Xia, pretty little Xia who never offers her blood but never denies him when he asks for it, and who always seems to know when he needs it. After the first time, he’d waited as long as he could despite her warning, not wanting to face that too-knowing stare again, worried that his self-control would fail a second time. Until she’d taken to watching him across the campfire, a smirk playing over her lips, taunting him until he broke down and asked.

It went well. As it did the third time, and the fourth. His embarrassing loss of control hadn’t repeated, and they’d fallen into a comfortable pattern.

There’s no use disturbing it.

And yet it worries at him, like an itch he knows he shouldn’t scratch. He mulls it over as they sit around the fire and laugh at the latest attempts at cooking, as they each take turns singing in the cool night air.

Xia sings last, the pretty paladin’s voice surprisingly sweet. He waits until the others go to bed; through luck or through some ability to read him that he wishes she lacked, she stays up, strumming the battered old lute idly as they watch the last of the flames die down.

It would be nice if she’d say something. “Out with it,” maybe, or “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind – talk to me.” But Xia can wield silence like a weapon. She’ll wait, and continue to wait, and if he chickens out and says nothing she'll wait even longer, and he’ll know that she knows that he chickened out.

Fine. He moves closer, sits next to her. Waits to gather his thoughts. Then, with no preamble: “How would you know?”

She glances over, still picking through random chords. “Hmm?”

“You said.” He stares into the fire. “That first night. You said you could kill me if it were necessary, but that you didn’t know if it was necessary. Yet.” He swallows, not looking at her. “How would you know it was necessary?”

He can feel her stare now. “You’re asking me what would make me kill you.”

“I think it’s a valid question.”

She takes a deep breath. He waits, still not looking at her, but listening. Oh, he’s listening.

“If you were a threat to the rest of us,” she says slowly, after a long pause. “A threat that couldn’t be resolved any other way. If we couldn’t restrain you, couldn’t reason with you, couldn’t help you. If you were too far gone and there was no bringing you back. Then, yes. I could kill you. And I would. As I would for anyone else here.”

She takes a deep breath. “I would make it fast,” she says softly, and even though he’s not looking directly at her he can tell she’s also staring into the fire now. “Fast and clean. I wouldn’t make you suffer. And I would bury you properly, after. I would mourn you.”

Bizarrely, this makes his throat tighten. It’s… unexpected. He’d always figured when he died, it would be in a dingy dungeon somewhere, or perhaps on the side of the road, his body left for particularly unpicky crows. To hear that anyone, even his would-be murderer, would mourn him when he’s gone… well. It’s unexpected, that’s all.

Equally unexpected is the hand that slips into his. “It’s a pretty big ‘if,’” she says softly, and squeezes his hand. “I don’t expect it to come up.”

If asked (and if he were inclined to be truthful), he would have said that the pretty little paladin barely tolerates him, that she sees him as, at best, a necessary inconvenience. He would have said that he sees her as a meal ticket – quite literally, in fact – and a strong body to stand between him and his enemies, nothing more. Yet as they sit, hand in hand, watching the last of the flames die down, she makes no move to take her hand back and neither does he. And if either of them are manipulating the other, he genuinely can’t tell.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #xia!tav #dark conversations #baldur's gate 3 #etoilewrites

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xoxiu · 9 months

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my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader

chapter sixteen table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.

tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline

taglist: @allamericanuniverse @llallaaa, @frieschan

The day finally came that Yoongi had to drive back to Seoul for a work meeting. He kept putting it off until Kiwo was settled into the villa in Busan, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take her with.

‘Settled’ wasn’t the right word, per se. The little was constantly grumpy, in a mood, and fought Yoongi at any chance she could. Kiwo was the ultimate tsundere at the moment- from the corner of his eye, Yoongi would see her staring at him curiously, but the moment he looked at her that stare would turn into a glare and a “fuck you.”

Of course, the rest of the boys thought it was the cutest thing ever. They were never on the receiving end.

Once his bag was packed and double checked, Yoongi leaned over the bed to give Kiwo a soft kiss on the forehead. She let out a small groan before rolling over, not liking being disturbed in her sleep.

Last night, Yoongi broke the news to her that he would have to leave for the weekend. Kiwo took it well, but Yoongi could tell that she felt anxious over him leaving her. He figured leaving quickly in the morning before she could even wake up would be best to avoid a meltdown.

Seokjin sat at the kitchen table, a warm coffee in his hands. He gave Yoongi a soft smile. In return, Yoongi tried to smile, but it wavered with anxiety.

“She’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“If something happens let me know. I just hope she doesn’t give you guys any trouble.”

Jin chuckled between sips of his coffee. “You act as if Jimin and Taehyung are completely innocent.”

Yoongi gave one last look at Seokjin before heading out the door. The sun was just rising, casting a red haze over the sky.

“I don’t wanna study Korean,” Kiwo whined, throwing herself backwards so she now laid on her back. She formed a small fist before hitting it onto the carpet.

Namjoon sighed. He flipped to the next page and held it out to Kiwo.

“Can you read this story for me?” He asked, trying his best to hide his frustration. It had been a half hour and they were only on the second page of the lesson.

Kiwo took the book and rolled over onto her stomach. She placed the book on the floor in front of her before she started reading.

”언니랑 거실에서 텔레비전일 봤어요. 언니는 드라마를 좋아해요. 저는 뉴스를 좋아해요.”

”Can you tell me what she was doing?” Namjoon asked.

“Watching TV, duh.”

Kiwo continued to read the passage with Namjoon interrupting ever so often to make sure she understood what she was saying.

“언니랑 싸우면 항상 제가 져요.”

”What does she lose?”

Kiwo let out a sigh before pushing the book away from her. She laid her head on the floor, facing away from Namjoon.

It was too early in the morning to be studying, but Namjoon took her aside as soon as she finished her breakfast to have a study session in the library. Usually her and Yoongi would study after lunch, and he would always read to her instead of the other way around like Namjoon does. Kiwo didn’t like it one bit.

Namjoon kept talking to her, but Kiwo just kept ignoring him. She was much more focused on tracing the wood patterns on the wall with her eyes.

“How’s it going in here?” Seokjin asked, popping his head in the doorway with a smile. Namjoon gave him a sheepish smile while Kiwo continued to be lost in her head.

Walking into the room, Seokjin sat down next to Kiwo and leaned over so they were face to face. The girl blinked, her eyes now focused on Seokjin.

“Are you behaving for Namjoon oppa?” He asked. When he got no response other than just a wide eyed look, he continued on. “It’s already been over a half hour, you could’ve been done by now if you did your work.”

Kiwo rolled her eyes before sitting back up. She turned to reach for the book when she felt a hand firmly grasp her chin. Looking like a deer in headlights once her eyes landed back on Jin, the older man had a hard time keeping his serious demeanor at Kiwo’s adorable expression.

“You will not disrespect me. Is that clear?” Seokjin said, letting go of Kiwo’s chin. He waited for a response, only to have Kiwo turn back to the book and shuffle closer to Namjoon.

“No, no.” Once again, Seokjin grabbed Kiwo by the chin to make her face him. “I need a verbal answer, Kiwoie.”

”Yes, oppa.” Kiwo said softly. She couldn’t look Seokjin in the face and shrunk in on herself, suddenly becoming aware of how she was behaving. Seokjin smiled, satisfied with Kiwo and her answer.

“Alright,” he said, lifting Kiwo up and into his lap. “Let’s work on this assignment so we can be done.”

Jungkook sat on the couch, Switch controller in his hand as he played a fighting game on the television. He threw the controller down on his lap, frustrated at losing yet another online match.

Taehyung came down the stairs, eyes widening with happiness as he spotted Jungkook.

“Kookie!” He exclaimed, rushing over to the couch and taking a seat next to the younger. “I’m so glad you’re back. It’s been too long.”

”It’s been three days, hyung.”

”Still…”

Jungkook handed Taehyung the unused Joycon as the two played against each other. They were a very competitive duo, with each other trying to sabotage to other and hurling vicious curses at each other. They both knew it was all in good fun, though.

Taehyung let out a sigh, leaning closer to Jungkook.

“I know you’re not here because of something other than work, y’know.” Taehyung said sadly. “I just want to know why you avoid us.”

”I’ve been seeing my parents a lot more since we’re in Busan,” Jungkook clarified, still not wanting to say the real reason out loud. He debated whether or not to say more, but it eventually came out in his ramblings.

“And Kiwo, I just… I feel bad. I’m the reason she’s in this situation, and I couldn’t handle hearing her cry about wanting to go home.”

The two were silent for a moment, neither not knowing exactly what to say. It wasn’t a secret that Kiwo was kidnapped, but knowing that all seven of them are complicit in it left an unsettling feeling in all of them. Whenever they would hear Kiwo cry and scream about going home, they were reminded that what they did wasn’t okay. But on the other hand, Kiwo looked so content and happy cuddling with Yoongi or playing a game with Taehyung that it almost felt worth it.

“It’s not your fault, Kookie. We’ve done much worse, anyways.” Taehyung tried to console his friend, but found it hard when he also felt guilty.

Jungkook closed out of the video game before standing up. “All of this is going to explode in our faces eventually. It’s not going to end well.”

He grabbed his jacket and left the villa.

Hoseok had rearranged the entire living room for Jimin and Kiwo to play musical chairs. Since it felt like they were mortal enemies, having them play together seemed like the best way to get them to get along.

Besides, it gave Hoseok and Taehyung an excuse to play musical chairs.

Hoseok placed four floor cushions on the ground in a neat circle. They were all decently spread out to avoid any injuries, especially since Namjoon would be playing with them. Seokjin sat on the couch, now located in front of the front door, with his phone in his hand. He snapped a quick picture to send to Yoongi before going back to his music app.

A fun children’s song started playing. Jimin and Taehyung playfully danced and laughed around the pillows. Namjoon held Kiwo on his hip as he and Hoseok made funny dances and faces to make Kiwo laugh. Seokjin paused the music and everyone rushed to sit down on a pillow. Namjoon placed a giggling Kiwo down on a pillow, declaring himself as out.

“Joonie hyung’s out!” Jimin said, giggling over the fact that he was the first one out, because of course it was him.

Namjoon went over to Seokjin on the couch, sitting down on his smaller boyfriend’s lap. Jin let out a grunt but carried on with the music nevertheless.

The game continued on, with Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok dancing around the circle while Kiwo watched. Seokjin let out a chuckle before calling out to Kiwo.

“Kiwoie, you’re supposed to walk around the circle!”

Kiwo simply stared back at Seokjin, still smiling and giggling from the sight before her. Shaking his head, Jin stopped the music. Once Kiwo didn’t get a seat she would learn the rules of the game.

Only she did get a seat. Kiwo managed to simply walk over to an empty pillow and sit down on it while Taehyung and Hoseok fought over the one across from it. As neither Taehyung nor Hoseok could fully sit on the pillow, Jimin declared both of them out.

Once it was down to Jimin and Kiwo, everyone began to sweat over what could possibly happen. Everything was going well so far- both of them had a smile on their face as the game went on. Jimin confidently walked around the circle, his eyes never leaving the pillow. Kiwo, on the other hand curiously watched Jimin as Hoseok gently pushed her around the pillow.

The song ended, and both littles ran straight for the floor cushion. Jimin managed to sit down first, giggling as he did so. Kiwo, on the other hand, stood in front of Jimin, her face blank as she realized he took the only seat.

“Yay, Jimin!”

“Jimin won!”

Jimin stared up at Kiwo with a smirk. Kiwo just continued to stare back blankly, before lifting up her leg and kneeing Jimin right in the nose.

A string of “Kiwo!”s came out of everyone’s mouths as they witnessed what the girl did. Jimin’s laughter soon turned to crying as he held his bleeding nose in his hand. Everyone rushed towards the two, making sure Jimin was okay and Namjoon carrying him into the bathroom once they realized how serious the bleeding was. Hoseok and Taehyung followed, leaving Seokjin behind with Kiwo.

Jin stared down at Kiwo with an unimpressed expression. Kiwo could only keep her head down as the elder grabbed her by the ear and dragged her into her bedroom. Once the two were inside, Seokjin let go of her and closed the door.

“What was that about, little girl?” Seokjin asked as he took a seat in front of the bed on the ottoman. He had to take many deep breaths to keep his voice even and low, trying to control his temper.

”I don’t know…” Kiwo whispered. Jin could barely hear her, but wasn’t satisfied with what he could hear.

“‘I don’t know’ isn’t a satisfactory answer, Kiwo.”

”I-I don’t know!” Kiwo began to cry slightly. She dug her fingernails into her arms as her body shook with nerves and fear. Seokjin tried his best not to cave in once he saw the tears pooling in her eyes.

He took another deep breath before patting his lap.

“I think you deserve a spanking for what you’ve done, don’t you?”

Kiwo cried harder and shook her head. She tried to back away but Jin grabbed her before she could be out of his reach. He yanked her closer to him before laying her over his lap. He pulled down her sweatpants and panties enough to expose her bare butt and sit spots. Before he spoke, he placed a hand on Kiwo’s back to keep her in place. He held one wrist back to stop her from continuing to hurt herself.

“Do you know why you’re getting this spanking, Kiwo?”

The little let out a sob, going completely limp as she spoke up. “I h-hurt Jimin oppa.”

“Yes, yes you did. Why shouldn’t you hurt people?”

”It’s not- it’s not nice!”

”Good girl.” Jin said before starting the spanking. Kiwo was limp the entire time, not fighting back as she knew she did something naughty. Seokjin tried his best to remain stoic and posed, but he would be lying if he said hearing Kiwo’s cries didn’t make him want to stop and cuddle her to make the tears stop.

Seokjin counted 25 spanks in his head, spread out across her bare butt and top of her thighs. Once it was over, Seokjin pulled up her panties and completely removed her sweatpants- they were too harsh of a material on her sore bottom. Besides, her oversized shirt would cover her butt well enough. He let her cry out for a moment as he rubbed her back.

“Shhh, you’re okay, it’s over honey.” Seokjin cooed as he picked her up and placed her on his lap. Kiwo clung onto him, resting her head against his shoulder as she cried. Eventually Seokjin stood up with Kiwo on his hip. He walked over to the other end of the bed where one of Kiwo’s pacifiers lay and popped it in her mouth.

“Daddy, daddy,” Kiwo cried out. Seokjin froze for a second, realizing she was calling out for Yoongi. He never heard Kiwo refer to Yoongi as ‘Daddy’ however.

“Oh, sweetie, you want your Daddy?” Seokjin cooed, bouncing Kiwo slightly. She nodded her head yes and let out another teary, hiccupy cry. “We’ll call your Daddy after you apologize to Jimin, how about that?”

The two exited the bedroom and walked towards the bathroom. Namjoon and Hoseok watched pitifully as the two went into the bathroom where Taehyung was cleaning up Jimin.

“Okay, baby, what do you say to Jimin oppa?” Seokjin prompted Kiwo. Jimin sat on the sink counter while holding a wet paper towel to his nose. Taehyung stood next to Jimin, running a hand through his fluffy hair with a small smile.

“I sorry Minnie oppa,” Kiwo cried out. Seokjin and Taehyung swore they almost died from just how cute it was. Jimin nodded his head before leaning into Taehyung. Feeling rejected more, Kiwo buried her face into Seokjin’s shoulder and cried more.

Realizing this wasn’t going anywhere, Seokjin gave Taehyung a small smile before leaving the bathroom.

“Awh, Kiwoie,” Hoseok feigned a frown and held his hands out to hold Kiwo. “You made me sad, I need some baby cuddles.”

Seokjin placed Kiwo on Hoseok’s lap while he went to grab his phone from Namjoon. Kiwo continued to cry out for her Daddy, causing Hoseok to shush her and rock her back and forth. Jin quickly dialed Yoongi’s number, who picked up before the second ring.

“Hyung? What’s up?” Yoongi asked. As soon as he heard the cries in the background, he grew frantic. “What happened?”

”Well, Kiwo hurt Jimin and got a spanking…” Seokjin said, trailing off as he watched Kiwo cry harder and reach out for him. Her pacifier popped out of her mouth from the force of her screams, and Seokjin bent down to place it back in her mouth. “I think it’s best for you to talk to her instead.”

Seokjin handed the phone to Kiwo after placing it on speaker phone.

”Daddy, daddy,” Kiwo cried harder upon hearing Yoongi’s voice.

“Oh, baby, were you naughty?” Yoongi cooed sadly. While he couldn’t see, Yoongi knew that Kiwo nodded- she wasn’t very good at verbal communication.

“You know better than to hurt Jiminie. What happened?”

”I-I wanted to win, Daddy.” Kiwo said sadly, hiccuping mid-sentence.

“We we’re playing musical chairs and Kiwo knee’ed Jimin in the face because she lost.” Hoseok clarified for Yoongi.

“Ah, I see. You were upset, weren’t you?”

”Yeah.”

”Baby, you can’t hurt people when you’re upset. You know better.” Yoongi felt his heart breaking at Kiwo’s cries and him not being there to comfort her.

“Did Seokjinnie oppa spank you?”

“Yeah, Daddy.”

“Awh, you poor thing. It hurt, didn’t it?”

“Y-yeah.” Kiwo’s cries slowly subdued as she heard more of Yoongi’s soothing voice. She cuddled under Hoseok chin as she hiccuped and sobbed occasionally.

Yoongi continued to soothe the little until he could no longer hear any big sobs. He instructed the little to give the phone back to Jin, who took it and took it off speaker phone.

“Hyung, make sure you give her her bottle of plain water before you put her down. She needs an early bedtime and I don’t want her dehydrated. The bottle should be in the kitchen cupboard.”

”Alright, Yoongs. We’ve got it all handled,” Seokjin confirmed, comforting and consoling Yoongi as he couldn’t be here to handle it himself.

”I think Hobi’s got his hands full,” Namjoon chuckled at the sight in front of him. Hoseok was reclined in the big living room chair with Kiwo and Jimin on his lap. Both of them straddled one thigh each with their heads against Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok had his eyes closed as he held Kiwo’s bottle for her and rubbed his other hand on Jimin’s chest. Hoseok had his eyes closed while Jimin and Kiwo’s own eyes were barely open. The littles were dead set on watching Moana and were fighting off sleep to finish the movie.

“It must be hard being a single mom. Especially when you’re a man and you have no kids,” Taehyung snickered out.

“I would be the best mom,” Hoseok slurred out mid-sleep. Jimin let out a small chuckle.

“Mama Hobi hyung,” Jimin said. Hoseok felt himself cringe both inside and out.

“Never say that again.”

”’ama Hobi h’un’,” Kiwo mumbled behind her bottle, causing both her and Jimin to go into a giggling fit.

“Aigoo, don’t get her started, Jimin!”

#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #mafia au #bts little space #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #vminhope #namjin #my house of stone your ivy grows

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anmylica · 2 months

Text

Writing Patterns

Tagged by @iamstartraveller776 (by way of the addition that requested anyone do it that wanted to, and I was curious.)

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there is a pattern!

(I didn’t have 10 posted fics yet so I did the ones I have plus 2 that are coming pretty soon. I also chose to do the most recent chapters on fics that aren’t completed yet.)

1. Delayed for a While- OUAT CS

Emma and Killian walked out of the Storybrooke Town Hall, both calling out their goodbyes to their friends and waving as they walked away from the crowd that had gathered to help awaken Snow White and Prince Charming from the Evil Queen’s latest sleeping curse.

2. Something About December (Throw a Wrench In Your Plans)- OUAT CS

David tried really, really hard not to disturb his sister before 9:30 in the morning on her days off (and let’s be honest, he tried not to disturb her before he had to on days she wasn’t off anyway), as Emma “Swan” Nolan wasn’t a morning person in any interpretation of the word.

3. The City of Lights- OUAT CS

Killian Jones opened the door of his apartment to the sound of his girlfriend, Emma “Swan” Nolan, quoting Steel Magnolias verbatim as the television blared in the background.

4. The Fields of Asphodel- OUAT CS CH. 9

Here’s the thing: Neal knew not to trust his grandfather.

5. Like Slow Spinning Redemption- OUAT CS

Liam Jones’ day consisted of restocking the bar and wiping down surfaces, the same old monotonous routine that he had followed since he had been sentenced upon his death and subsequent arrival in the Underworld.

6. Take Me Out (After the Ball Game)- OUAT CS

Emma rolled her eyes as she tried to hide that she was checking a text from her brother during the meeting with the mayor of Boston bugging her about going to a Red Sox game with him and Mary Margaret, his wife.

7. Season II- OUAT CS CH 6

Sorry?! She was sorry?! She didn’t know the meaning of the word, but Hook decided that he would delight in showing her how sorry she could be once he was through with her.

(The first line was just one word so I gave more to go with it!)

8. Fly With The Black Swan- OUAT CS CH

Their arrival in the tiny port town came late at night.

9. A Little Glimpse of Heaven- OUAT CS CH 4 (not published yet, but coming soon once I finish edits!)

Neal sat motionless as the screen in front of him went black.

10. Romancing Mister Jones- OUAT CS (not published yet but hopefully soon!)

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It is rather remarkable the kind of popularity Miss Milah Smith has managed to cumulate during her brief time in London’s social season this year.

No, I definitely don’t have a pattern.😆

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p3ski · 4 months

Text

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 3K

The incident at the church was never discussed, although the tension from the event still lingered. Gavin stared unwaveringly at his monitor, scrolling through the latest CyberLife testimonies. This had become a pattern over the last few days, with him trying to complete his work with as little engagement with Nines as possible. This had not gone unnoticed by his partner, who quickly grew resentful of being served the cold shoulder. It seemed equally content to ignore him back. If only out of spite.

"Still fuck all coming from these interviews”, Gavin mused, finally breaking the silence. “If anyone knows anything about this Synthetic Reaper, they're keeping tight-lipped."

This was not a topic that Nines was interested in, evident in its painfully unenthused response.

"Indeed."

The detective bristled, knowing he only had himself to blame for the unsociable atmosphere. Turning his attention back to his computer, the menial task of report filing suddenly felt like a blessed escape. After a few minutes of typing, his phone reverberated from the side of his desk. He ignored the notifications at first until the persistent buzzing became a nuisance.

Reaching over to silence the device, he was soon grateful he'd done so, as brightly illuminated on the screen was a series of incriminating texts. Outlining the embarrassing details of his most recent personal struggle:

Actually Decent (4)

[10:03am] Gav

[10:03am] hey

[10:04am] have you and Nines made out yet

[10:04am] or are u still planning on wimping out

Gavin pulled his phone closer, out of the view of prying eyes. He went back to scanning the information on his report, focusing on a section he had yet to finish. "You got anything for this new code? The one in the victim’s scripture?"

“No."

Amazing.

His phone shook again, and glancing down, he saw that Tina was diligently adding to the collection of unwanted messages:

Actually Decent (7)

[10:06 am] because if youre gonna bang a stranger

[10:06 am] please pick one thats normal

[10:07 am] no more weird kinks

"No?" Gavin questioned, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "That's a first for you, smart ass." The tone was intended as jovial, but the reception was frosty at best. Nines shot him a sharp glare, huffing disapprovingly under its breath.

Gavin’s fingers twitched on his keyboard, wondering if he should cut his losses and accept his looming termination. There were other jobs he could pursue, after all. Perhaps a career as the world's most surly birthday clown. Or a disappointing male stripper.

Actually Decent (9)

[10:09 am] I still have nightmares about the pet-play guy

[10:10 am] I’ll never recover from the things u told me

Nines slid Gavin a slip of paper. "The message is nonsensical. Most of the text makes sense, but the ending appears to be gibberish."

He peered down, scanning over the carefully penned digits. "...So what are we thinking? Another hidden code, like SL C?"

"Might I suggest you take some time to determine that yourself." The android squeezed its mouse tightly. As if it were trying to crush it to pieces. “I am getting rather tired of you ‘copying my homework’."

Gavin was caught off guard by this. While his partner was far from agreeable, it was unusual for it to lash out in such a juvenile way. There wasn’t a hint of care or remorse as it diligently scanned its monitor, refusing to look up.

Once the initial shock had subsided, it transformed into something ugly. An instinctive urge to push back. Gavin balled up the paper indignantly, flicking it over the desk. “You got a problem with sharing notes, just say. You don’t have to be a little bitch about it."

Nines laughed, although not in the way that he’d grown used to. It was a harsh sound, short and sharp, "I find it insulting that you have snubbed me this long, only to speak now when it seeks to benefit you."

The detective tensed uncomfortably at this before puffing out his chest defensively. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re working together. Hardly an effective partnership if we can't at least share information."

“It is difficult to work with you in a professional capacity when there is something more pressing we need to discuss."

"And what the fuck would that be?"

There was a loud, crunching noise. Gavin looked over to confirm that Nines had, indeed, destroyed its mouse. Fragments of plastic littered the desk whilst others remained embedded in its hand. In the android’s eyes, there was a strange vulnerability intermingled with its usual intensity. Not so much confronting as it was pleading.

"You know."

A tight bind encompassed Gavin's chest and threatened to cut his breathing. His focus drifted from his companion’s eyes down the expanse of its smooth, pale skin. He followed the gentle slope of its nose, counting the freckles on the way, and ultimately found its lips. They looked warm and inviting—enough that he felt compelled to lean towards them.

It was then that he realised he was utterly fucked.

"I'm going for a smoke." He pushed away from his desk, shooting to his feet in a hasty motion. There were measured footsteps trailing behind him as he cowardly marched away, but he refused to turn around. Not wishing to cause a scene.

Shoving his way through the fire exit, he hurriedly paced down the steps, caring little if he slipped on the ice. His hand found the cigarettes in his pocket, and he squeezed the box with such intensity that he successfully crushed half of its contents. Pulling out one of the smokes left intact, he had barely touched it to his lips when the heavy door slammed open behind him.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped running from me," a stern voice chided.

Staring vacantly into the parking lot and with nowhere else to go, Gavin glumly accepted the inevitable, surrendering to the demand. "I’m not running," he denied, in staunch contradiction to his previous actions. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I’d think that is rather obvious. I wish to discuss what happened."

While he tried to maintain a facade of composure, there was no hiding his racing pulse. He knew Nines would have to suffer a serious malfunction not to sense how panicked he was. "I don’t know what you mean."

“Then I'll have to enlighten you: I am referring to the reckless - and frankly deranged - behaviour you exhibited at the church the other day."

Gavin was grateful for the harsh wind outside, as it gave him the perfect excuse to hide his face under the guise of preserving his light. He thought back to the day in question and the moments leading up to the assault on his partner. There had been no thoughts when grappling the man, just white-hot rage that scorched his skin and blinded his senses. The answer to what happened eluded him, and he was content to leave that way.

“I’ve got nothing to say." He said, moving forward to descend another concrete step.

His partner would not be so easily sated. It calmly closed the door and began its own descent down the staircase. Gavin stepped in time, seeking to maintain the distance between them, as Nines persistently charged forward. This carried on for a while, like some sort of surreal line dance. "For someone who despises androids so vehemently, you seem extremely keen to jump to my defence."

The run of the steps finished, and the two found themselves on the pavement. Unless they wished to carry their quarrel into the busy streets of Detroit, Gavin knew it was best to stay put. “I am not jumping to anyone’s defence."

"It isn't the first time you've done so for me." Nines ignored his protest, exploiting its looming physique to tower over its partner. "There was the man outside Mikey’s—"

"That didn't mean shit."

"I don't believe you." It sounded exhausted, as if it had been dwelling on the subject for days. "Please, I'm just trying to understand."

“There’s nothing to understand. You said before that I have some weird saviour complex. Call it instinct."

"Why would you seek to save something you so openly despise?"

Gavin took a shaky drag of his cigarette, the smoke catching in his throat, "Because it's my job", he said plainly, though his wavering tone was far from convincing. "I wasn't going to let him hurt you like that. I would have done the same for anyone, human or android."

"I do not feel pain, of which you are aware." Nines picked holes in the flimsy argument without hesitation. "What reason would you have to believe I was hurt?"

The detective backpedalled, realising that he'd trapped himself with his own telling wording:

"I didn't mean hurt; I meant break," he excused.

"I assured you that my structural integrity had not been compromised."

"Just let it go. I wasn't thinking."

"I disagree. You have been thinking a great deal." The android pressed, toeing the line between firmness and aggression. "I needed no saving the night I stayed over, yet you showed me the same consideration. I find your continually shifting attitude towards me deeply confusing."

This machine doesn’t know what he’s doing , Gavin thought to himself. Nothing good would ever come from the proverbial shitstorm that was beginning to manifest.

Wait. He stopped, firmly correcting himself:

It.

Not he.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“You’re one to talk”, he seethed, expunging his frustration like poisonous venom. “I don't know what's gotten into you, but this buddy-buddy shit is getting old. We aren't friends; we're co-workers. We don’t have to pretend we’re anything more."

He tried to pull away, to which Nines reached out, grabbing him firmly by the arm. "Why are you so desperate to deny what you feel?"

"What do you know about what I feel?" Gavin snapped. The proximity between them was dizzying, their faces inches apart. "All you are is a hunk of plastic pretending to be a person."

The cruelty of his words came with little conscious thought. Part of him wanted to stop, but he refused to back down. He had already made the fatal mistake of letting the android into his mind, and he needed to shut it out before things got any worse.

"Your views have changed; you no longer believe that." Nines attempted to sound assured, but its torn expression betrayed this.

"You said you weren't interested in pretending, and I'm not interested either, android." The word was spat from his lips like an aggressive slur.

His partner’s temple shone red, and its grip tightened with mounting defiance. "I understand that I will never be human, but I do not lack the capacity to feel."

"Don't delude yourself," he sneered, barking out a cruel laugh. "You try to get into my head, manipulating my feelings to serve your directives, and you wonder why I fucking hate you."

Nines let go, recoiling fiercely as if the man burned to the touch. As it stared at him with wide eyes, there was no mistaking the raw heartbreak that blighted its features.

"I see."

The voice barely registered above a whisper, but to Gavin, it could have been screaming. He found himself unable to look, to face the consequences of what he had done. A part of him wished to take it all back. To pull his partner into an embrace and hastily beg for its forgiveness. But he knew that he couldn't. At least not now.

Once that line had been crossed, there would be no turning back.

The ash built up on his neglected cigarette, and he made no effort to flick it away. With the light extinguished, he allowed it to slip limply from his fingers. "I'm going to get a coffee. Be back in a few."

"You can get coffee from the canteen”, Nines replied, words strained from its melancholic state.

“Not that coffee, I want...different coffee...at home”, he cringed at the weakness of his excuse. "Just don't wait up, and don't follow me."

Gavin turned on his heel and made his way to his apartment, refusing to look back. Whilst walking, he looked through his phone, swiping away the messages from Tina and instead opening his USwipe account. Seeking a distraction from the disastrous interaction that had just transpired, he filtered through the matches, looking for someone of interest.

He was pleasantly surprised to find a well-kempt man around his age with a bio that didn’t immediately scream ‘weird pervert’ or ‘serial killer’. He was reasonably attractive, too - with a mop of dark, curly hair and warm hazel eyes. Emboldened, he opened his chat log and fired off a quick message:

Alex

You: Hey

did u want to meet up?

It wasn’t anything elaborate, but Gavin had never been one for making the first move, so he reasoned it was progress enough.

Arriving at his front door, he hoped to find some time to unwind. While he knew he couldn’t hide out indefinitely - and would have to return to the station at some point - a fleeting escape was a small mercy that he would happily embrace. However, this hope was quickly extinguished when a distant yowl greeted him from the bathroom.

"...Tiff?” There was an unpleasant lurch in his stomach, telling him that something was wrong.

While his cat was usually vocal, there was something off about the noise she was making. It sounded weak and strained. Shaking off his coat, he charged through his living room and slammed the door to the bathroom open. He found Tiffany lying in the bath, half-turned onto her back and staring vacantly into space. Her chest was falling and rising rapidly, and it didn't take Gavin long to realise what was happening.

"Shit", He dropped to his knees, scurrying over in a dazed frenzy. Almost as soon as he'd leaned himself over the bath, Tiffany let out another long cry, and he tried his best to console her. Gently running a hand on her back and shushing softly. "It's okay, girl, I've got you."

The cat continued to pant and strain, and Gavin wondered, with significant guilt, how long this might have been going on. Extending towards the door, he pulled a towel from the nearby rail and gently pushed it beneath her. At a loss for what else to do, he reached for his phone, preparing to call the vet for some much-needed advice. An incoming call thwarted his efforts, and he stared at the screen in disbelief, unsure how to react.

While he entertained the idea of rejecting the call, he found himself unable to do so. The phone seemed to vibrate endlessly as the called ID quietly mocked him. Slowly, he pressed accept, and the caller wasted no time in pleading their case:

"It was not my place to make such brazen assumptions about your emotions. I would like it if we could talk about this—"

While Nines babbled, the detective noted the faint speckles of blood that littered his bath, plunging him deep into a nervous spiral. "Not now. We'll talk later."

Tiffany was straining a lot at this point, as Gavin recalled the vet telling him that this should be 'minimal'. He had no idea what defined minimal - or at what stage it was acceptable to freak out.

"Is everything okay?" Nines pressed, picking up on the obvious tension.

The cat's legs jerked violently, and he moved closer, pushing her back for a better view. He observed in horror the tiny head peering out from beneath her tail. "I need a fucking vet."

"For what reason?" Its tone became frantic, as though it were sharing in his panic. "Is it Tiffany? Is there something wrong?"

"Well, she's about to shit out a kitten. Other than that, she’s just dandy." He held his breath, watching nervously as the baby's head stalled in place. Tiffany brought herself forward, desperately trying to push, before flopping back down in defeat.

Gavin reached out to support her, aware that Nines was still talking to him but unable to process what it was saying.

"Did you hear me?"

"Hear what?" he hissed back frustratedly, overwhelmed by the situation. "Seriously, I'm not in the mood to play games right now."

"I'm not suggesting we play games. I'm suggesting I come over and help you."

He slumped back, groaning deeply, and buried his face in his arms. "What part of 'I need the vet' did you not understand? You can't help any more than I can."

"I beg to differ. While I am not professionally trained, I have reviewed extensive resources on the stages of feline birth." Nines’ voice was calm and reassuring, pulling him back from the brink of a full-blown meltdown. "My assistance would be invaluable to you."

Gavin paused, determining if he could set his pride aside sufficiently. If only for the sake of his pet. After some deliberation, he conceded, reluctantly accepting the offer, "Fine, just hurry up. This thing's coming out looking like a red Gusher, and I have no idea if that's normal or not."

The concern soon resolved itself as Tiffany arched her back again and gave another firm push. The kitten’s head fully emerged, revealing a small, furry body behind it. The gentle twitching of its legs assured him that all was well, and his heart swelled with pride for his pet.

Perhaps something good could come of the overwhelmingly shitty day.

#dbh #reed900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh nines #dbh fanfic #dbh gavin #detroit become human #dbh rk900 #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin900 #g9 #dbh gavin reed #gavin x rk900

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yuidelrey · 11 months

Text

Lovesick • AyaYui Oneshot

‼️𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐮𝐢 𝐱 𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨‼️

TW: Murder, suicide, loss of sanity, mentions of dismemberment

A/N: I wrote most of this at 1 am, and this is my first time writing AyaYui, so please excuse all grammar mistakes and this dogshit oneshot.

Growing up Catholic, Yui was taught to love everybody and not have malicious intentions toward others. And for 16 years she succeeded, in being caring and kind to people no matter how they treated her. So why was it now that every time she saw another girl talking with Ayato, she wanted to smash that bitch’s head into a wall until she was screaming for mercy? Even seeing a girl glance at him made her heart twist as her brain conjured up a bloody scene. What was the sudden change? Yui couldn’t understand why she felt such hate towards these girls she’d never spoken to, or why she felt such a primal need to harm them for taking an interest in what belonged to her.

Yes, hers. Ayato Sakamaki was hers. It’s fated, and Yui knew it is. Why else would her God have made it so she found Ayato on the couch the day she arrived? It had to be destiny. Ayato had to be hers. And he was hers… right? Who else to be hers but Ayato?

Just the thought of him made Yui’s thoughts fuzzy. Her stomach fluttered as if hundreds of butterflies were flapping their heart-shaped wings. He plagued her thoughts day in and day out. Every night she dreamt of him. Her sweet Ayato. Speaking with him wasn’t any better for her, either. Her cheeks would turn red and she would stammer, often resulting in Ayato’s ridicules. Not that Yui minded his comments, she was just happy to have Ayato giving her his attention. After all, she was the only girl Ayato needed to give his attention to.

But Ayato didn’t seem to follow Yui’s unspoken attention rule. He broke it constantly without realizing, and that upset the love-struck blonde. She followed him discreetly, taking notes of his schedule and habits. Yui noted that every month, Ayato would take a new girl into the library for some feasting fun. And from around the tall, wooden library shelf stood the brainsick blonde. She watched quietly, her blood boiling and her teeth clenched tightly to the point of breaking into thousands of shards, which she would’ve gladly swallowed if it meant getting Ayato’s attention away from the bitch he had his fangs clamped into. Before the feasting could finish, Yui would leave with a gore fest playing in her twisted head.

She had had enough of Ayato’s cheating. They’d never officially dated, but Ayato had said before that he would be her first everything. And Ayato was going to remain her first everything, even if it meant getting her hands a little dirty.

Ayato hadn’t taken notice of it before, but it seemed like every girl he’d feasted on would miss the next school day, and the one after that, then the one after that. Rumors would circulate about the missing girl before being completely masked over by another missing girl, another fling of Ayato’s. The pattern of missing girls seemed odd, especially since every girl mysteriously vanishing had some sort of relation to him. Sure, it weirded Ayato out, but it didn’t stop him. Nothing would stop the fearless Ayato. But nothing was going to stop the obsessive Yui, either.

It became clear to Yui that Ayato wouldn’t stop even if every girl he touched or spoke to went missing. So she decided to up the ante and leave her precious angel a warning in his shoe locker on Friday. And on Monday, when they had returned to school, Ayato was greeted with the rotting head of his latest fling. A note was tied to her hair with a pink ribbon. Careful not to touch the disgusting decomposing head, he plucked out the note and read it:

‘Stop fooling around with those other girls. They don’t deserve you like I do, my love.’

Ayato seemed disturbed more by the note than the head. He had Reiji take care of it as always, too bothered to take care of it himself. Ayato acted as if he didn’t care, but realistically, he was offended. Who had the gall to demand the great Ayato Sakamaki’s attention?! And who-…

Staring back down at the note, Ayato curiously put it up to his nose and sniffed it. He cringed at the smell of death and rot that stuck to the paper, but there was a sweet smell to it. A smell that was all too familiar. A smell that plagued his senses from the second that little blonde stepped into his mansion.

But chichinashi? The thought almost made him laugh. Yui was the last person to do such a thing. She was a devout Catholic, denouncing all things even remotely sinful. Her puritanical mindset couldn’t even comprehend the idea of sex before marriage, much less homicide. It just couldn’t be Yui, it couldn’t be. But from the corner of his eye, he had noticed her watching him hold the note. Her expression was dull, but her eyes were glinting with excitement as her lips struggled to not curl into a grin.

Ayato kept this discovery to himself, mostly because of its absurdness, but also because he knew his brothers wouldn’t believe his theory. They would have laughed him out of the room for even suggesting that it was Yui terrorizing the girls of Ryoutei high. Part of him doubted it as well. That shy little angelic girl who had chosen him to take her blood when she’d arrived, he just couldn’t imagine her doing such a thing. Perhaps she was next? Ayato almost scoffed at the idea of Yui going missing. There was no way she could, they knew her every move. The walls had eyes, after all. And the walls liked to talk, and lately the walls had talked of Yui acting odd.

His shoulders slumped over as he gnawed at his bottom lip. Ayato had sat in his room since he arrived from school, obviously troubled by his own thoughts. It was uncommon for Ayato to have something like this bother him so easily. Yui had noticed his behavior from the second he stepped into the limo. Was it her warning that had upset him?

Unable to shake the question from her head, Yui had prepared takoyaki for Ayato and brought it to him in his room. It was her way of apologizing and putting her thoughts at ease. Carefully, she held out the plate towards him.

“Ayato-kun, I made you takoyaki. Please accept it,” she whispered, her cheeks ablaze as she stared down at her shoes. Lost in his own thoughts, Ayato blankly stared at the plate of takoyaki in Yui’s hands. His green eyes lingered from the food to her hands, his lips parting slightly from what he saw. Ayato took the plate from her and watched her walk away. Before she could leave, he stood up quickly and set the plate aside.

“Hey, Yui?” He said aloud, garnering the attention of Yui. She turned around to face Ayato, shocked that he had used her name, and not some degrading nickname.

“Yes, Ayato-kun?” She asked bashfully, trying to hide the obvious blush on her face. She could hardly hear herself as her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and her skin got feverishly hot.

“How long have you been killing those girls?” He asked, blankly staring at her. Silence followed the question, Yui’s heartbeat stopping as the color drained from her cheeks.

“Pardon me? I think I misheard you.” Yui tried to remain polite and calm as Ayato stalked toward her.

“That note I found in my locker today. It smelled like you.” He stood before her, staring down at her petite, trembling figure. His hand seized her wrist, eliciting a gasp from Yui. “And I know for a fact that I don’t leave scratch marks on you,” Ayato said. He suddenly tore down the long sleeves of Yui’s shirt, exposing the defense wounds on her arms. Scratches, bruises, and nail marks littered Yui’s skin. Some appeared to be fresh, while others were fading away. Ayato looked at Yui, expecting her to denounce the accusation, or give him a reasonable explanation, but she just stared back at him with a small frown.

“You sure know how to pick them. They put up a good fight. That headless girl even got a few hits on me, but she couldn’t survive a chop to the neck. God did not fate them just to be with you.” Yui paused, looking at Ayato’s face before frowning. “Don’t give me that look! It’s your fault they’re dead. If you just stayed loyal, then they would still be alive! But I can forgive you if you’ll forgive me. You’ll forgive me, right sweetheart?” Yui stared at Ayato, watching as his face morphed into disgust. Fear laced his green orbs as he pulled away from Yui.

Yui’s sickly sweet smile slowly dropped as he backed away from her. “You won’t forgive me…?” Her head tilted slowly as her eyes welled with tears. “I did this for us…” Her body shook. Rage flickered in those cold pools of pink. “But it seems you’ve taken me for a fool. You don’t believe in our love, Ayato? Is that it?” Her voice raised, causing Ayato to scoff.

“Are you out of your mind, chichinashi?” He tried to remain stoic despite the small wavers in his tone. Yui’s lip quivered as she saw the disgust and discomfort on his face. “Yours Truly won’t be held down by a human. You’re acting like Kanato. It’s pathetic.” Ayato used insults to mask the feeling of impending doom that was bubbling inside of him.

“Pathetic?” Yui gasped softly, like she couldn’t believe it. “B-But I did this for you! This was for our love!” Yui confessed as tears spilled. She tried to blink through her blurred vision, trying to find some look of remorse or admiration from Ayato. Why couldn’t he appreciate what she had done for her?

Distraught by his rejection, she took out Subaru’s knife from the band of her shorts and walked towards Ayato as he foolishly cornered himself. She raised the knife above her head, slamming it down into Ayato’s chest. Cries erupted from Yui as she repeatedly stabbed him, pleading for forgiveness as Ayato’s shouts and cries filled her ears. When the cries ceased, and Ayato’s body collapsed, she collapsed with him. Her body laid against his, tears dampening her face as his blood smeared against her. Seeing his still beautiful face, her heart clenched as she realized what she’d done.

“My dear Ayato, you will be mine forever.” She gripped the hilt of the knife, ripping it out of his chest. She positioned his arms around her, her head nuzzled into his neck as she wept. “I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me, my love.” A small whimper came from Yui as she buried the knife in her chest. She went limp against Ayato, both corpses resting peacefully in each other’s arms.

Thanks for reading :3 Sorry if it sucked lol

#Spotify #yui komori #diabolik lovers #ayato sakamaki #yandere #yandere yui #ayayui #ayato x yui #diabolik boys #diabolik yui #yui has had enough #diabolik lovers oneshot #oneshot

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