#why does writing always take longer than I think this poured out and it was still a while I should be in bed but no

[somestorythoughts]

Protective Rage Obi-Wan Fic

So. @fanfic-obsessed has this cool Protective Rage Obi-Wan story idea that yall should check out because it's really good and they've got a ton of cool AU ideas. And I had an idea about an apology scene for it and then the plot bunny that makes you do things like overcomplicate worldbuilding said "you know you could do a whole fic" and now I have 4000 words. I was thinking of splitting it up into parts cause that's a long post but frankly I'm tired and should've been in bed like 90min ago cause I have work tomorrow and mornings suck so it's staying a one shot with the paragraphs spaces cause I am NOT reformatting that now. Enjoy.

            Usually, when Quinlan’s pushing himself to finish a mission through this much pain, he’s running on determination, maybe some spite. This time it’s desperation.

            He’s not sure if the shouting starts before or after he hits the door panel – or maybe it’s been going on the whole time – but he can see Obi-Wan through the spots in his eyes and that’s good, that’s good, he can’t finish this and maybe his friend can –

            “Quin!”

            It’s like leaning on stone, Obi-Wan’s mind wonderfully shielded under the worry in his voice and Quinlan holds up a datachip for the hands around his arms. “Coded. Please.”

            “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

            He’s staring up at the ceiling now but that’s alright. Obi-Wan has the data. Quinlan can break now.*

Ahsoka isn’t panicking, but only because she’s had a lot of practice keeping her head and she’s not friends with Master Vos. She’s met him though, and knows Obi-Wan and he are close, and she’s scared for him.

            “That’s an order Marrow!” Obi-Wan snaps and the medic someone called hisses in frustration from where Ahsoka’s holding him back. She isn’t sure why Obi-Wan’s so adamant that no one get closer to them, but she knows it’s serious. For all Obi-Wan hates the medbay he’ll work with the medics, let them see him elsewhere, and he knows better than to keep serious injuries from them.

            “General his leg is gangrenous if he doesn’t get immediate treatment he could lose it! As the head medic-”

            “Quin has to be seen by a Temple healer anyone else will make it worse. I don’t like it anymore than you do Marrow.” He’s resting a hand on Master Vos’ head and is holding his hand with the other, trying to sooth his mumbling friend.

            “Can you explain why while we wait for Healer Eerin?” She asked.

            Obi-Wan frowns, the look he gets when he’s trying to figure out how to explain something Force-related in English. “Marrow. The troopers who have trouble with excessive sound. If they were injured would you treat them in a noisy medbay?”

            Marrow scowls, but he stops splitting his attention between Master Vos’ leg and how best to get around Ahsoka and says, “Of course not. Not if there was any way to avoid it.”

            “Quin’s psychometric. It’s a useful skill, but sometimes it’s like Force hypersensitivity.”

            Cody interrupts as Anakin enters. “Healer Eerin just arrived. She’s being escorted here.”

            “Any idea what happened?” Anakin says. He’s waiting by Ahsoka, whether because he already knows approaching is a bad idea or because he got the gist from the way the medics haven’t gotten closer is anyone’s guess.

            “Have to keep them safe.” Master Vos mutters and Obi-Wan’s face tightens, though his shields are still rock-solid.

            “Who Quin? Who do you need to keep safe?”

            But Master Vos never stopped talking, only just loud enough to be heard. He’s shivering too, voice breaking with groans. Whatever he was doing to walk on that leg – Ahsoka is very determinedly not looking at the swelling or the white that might be bone – he clearly can’t keep it up anymore. “Gotta keep them safe from the people and the senators and the Chancellor gotta do something useful with my unnatural powers what good are we if we can’t keep them safe apparently nothing I hoped I hoped I wasn’t gonna get my heart broken again I Obi they deserve better than this-”

            His words are cut off by the sound of the door opening as Healer Eerin and a Padawan healer sweep into the room in unfamiliar robes and go instantly to the downed Jedi. Marrow scowls heavy as thunder at not being able to treat a patient on his ship as they do, Healer Eerin passing something to Obi-Wan as she takes his place by Master Vos’ head. Obi-Wan squeezes his hand and stands, moving in line with the troopers around them so that he can slide the chip into the device and examine whatever Master Vos was so desperate to bring him.

            “Pop quiz Padawan Lele. Why do we use special gear for Master Vos?”

            Padawan Lele didn’t stop what they were doing as they replied: “Because his psychometry is super strong and the pain has seriously damaged his shields. Without the robes or equally strong shields he’ll feel too much of our minds and memories as well. This could delay his healing or damage his mind.”

            Marrow goes stiff and Ahsoka thinks that’s the first time she’s seen him look sheepish.

            For a few minutes, the room is a quiet tension, little sound aside from the Healers working or Master Vos’ delirious mumbling, fading in and out of hearing. Cody’s giving him the same worried look Ahsoka is, Master Vos sounds like his heart is as broken as his leg and she knows enough about how people work to think that the amount of self-deprecation she can hear isn’t a new thing.

            The rage, when it comes, is sudden as a lightning bolt and just as sharp. It’s gone just as quickly too – almost before Ahsoka and the other Padawan finish whipping around to stare at Obi-Wan who looks perfectly calm. Cody’s looking at him too, narrow-eyed in suspicion.

“Excuse me.” He says, still perfectly calm, and Ahsoka thinks of the weight of a sky prepared to burst and wonders if she should follow him, but the door is closed before she can decide.

“Been a while since I saw Obi-Wan get that angry.” Healer Eerin remarks.

“Huh?” Several of the troopers say. Anakin does too and the day has not been nearly overwhelming enough for Ahsoka not to role her eyes at how her oblivious master can lift a tank but not read anger when it’s shoved in his face.

“A little after Anakin first came to the Temple one of the teachers decided he was a poor fit for the Order and was trying to sabotage his work along with bullying him in class. Obi-Wan found out, asked Quin to watch Anakin for an evening, and went after the teacher. The man landed in the Halls of Healing with several broken bones and left as soon as he was cleared to move left for the furthest jedi outpost he could find. If he ever taught again I will be very surprised. Commander he’s safe to move but it would help if we had a clear path to the door.”

“You’re gonna catch flies Skyguy.” Ahsoka says faintly as Cody taps his comm to pass on the message. When he’s finished they all hear the trooper on the other end say, “By the way sir General Kenobi just left for Coruscant’s surface, said he had some business to attend to at the Senate.”

Cody nods, wearing the expression of concern and exasperation he gets whenever anyone he feels remotely responsible for does something dangerous without explaining why. “Check and see if there’s a way to find out what they’re doing.” He orders Crys as the Healers begin to maneuver Master Vos through the door.

“It’s one of the sessions journalists are reporting live sir.” Crys answers, pulling up the feed without needing to be asked, and they all group together to watch it.

*

Obi-Wan is, to put it bluntly, really fucking pissed. The anger in him pools like water, building and building, and he wills himself to keep calm control as he strides through the Senate building. If he gets too angry to think, things will go wrong.

Quinlan came to him because the things that had already gone wrong were even worse than any of them had been allowed to see, and he couldn’t fix it himself. He came to Obi-Wan for help putting things right.

Obi-Wan will be damned thrice over if he fails that mission.

He’s already sent the information on the datachip to the Council (though he doesn’t know when they’ll be able to see it), to all of the Commanders he has the contact information for (he’s not sure which of them made those particular lines of contact so secure but he trusts Cody’s view of them), and Madame Nu. They can’t afford to let this stay between the two of them, they need the backup. He knows the Council cares, is struggling as much as he is under the weight of the war, and the Commanders deserve to know and can keep their secrets. He includes Madame Nu because he doubts anyone would expect it, and the few interactions he’d seen between her and her single squad of troopers made him certain she adores them.

Plus, she studies Sith Temples. She’s gotta be more dangerous than she looks.

He walks into the rotunda where the Senate are debating the (very reasonable he’s read this one) Clone Rights bill, sees Palpatine, and allows his rage to fuel his leap for the podium.

“Tell me,” He says, cool as can be, as he smashes Palpatine’s face into the stand and kicks Amedda away when the asshole tries to interfere, “what the fuck the jedi did to you that you want our children murdered in their cribs?”

Order 66. Kill all the jedi. All of them.

“Who the fuck gave you the right to have an army bred and implant them all with control chips so that they couldn’t disobey, couldn’t be allowed to even think?”

Control chips that would wipe out the troopers’ minds, take away every thought and feeling and every piece of self that they’d fought to keep, chips that would turn the troopers his friends into the flesh droids senators liked to claim they were.

Palpatine snarled and shot off lightning. Obi-Wan deflected it and continued to ignore the screaming as he mused that perhaps Palpatine had decided there was no point in hiding when Obi-Wan was broadcasting these secrets to the Senate. Then he punched Palpatine below his sternum and then his ribs.

Ah, red lightsaber. There it is. He ducked and broke Palpatine’s arm.

“And while we’re at it, who the fuck allowed you to use those chips to control the Coruscant Guard and make them do your dirty work? Or withhold rations and bacta?”

It’s entirely possible he shouldn’t have included the information about the blackout missions and the extent of Palpatine’s control over the clones. That might have been the kind of thing they’d want to share themselves. Unless they couldn’t say anything?

“Even for the Sith you’re an exceptionally twisted shitstain.” He ducks the other lightsaber and wonders why this asshole had to learn to fight with two.

“You forced my family at blaster point to lead a war you orchestrate from both sides, forced our friends into slavery and now you want to take away everything our friends are when you use them to kill us and frankly Palpatine, I think the fuck not!”

The red lightsaber screams in his hand as he slices Palpatine’s head clean off.

*

Obi-Wan frowns as he takes in the scene. Huh, Amedda’s still here and oh that’s Master Windu and Master Yoda in the audience. He supposes some Jedi witnesses are a good idea. He grabs Amedda by the front of his robes and uses the Force to help him hold the heavy asshole over the edge of the podium with one hand, just to make sure he gets the point.

“Now you may have gathered that I’m very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. What about you?”

It turns out that Amedda is also very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. Good. “Full Republic citizenship and Senate representation that they elect instead of someone who make money off their bodies would be good too.” Obi-Wan adds, looking the Senator from Kamino dead in the eye. He’s pretty sure she’s calculating the distance between him and her pod when she nods.

If Obi-Wan had known all it would take to get his friends their rights was the public murder of one of his least favorite people, he’d have done that at the beginning of this thrice-damned war. The bill is passed very quickly and unanimously, and a couple Senators add a bit about backpay they’d had in the works as well and make some noise about allowing the clones to settle a moon or planet once they have the time to look the uninhabited ones over. That gets less enthusiasm but it’s not being shouted down and they can work with that, so Obi-Wan grins with all his teeth on display and says “I’m glad I only had to kill one politician today.”

The fear that ripples through the Force is unmistakable.

He puts Amedda down and heads to the Senate floor where the Coruscant Guard are waiting. Their shields aren’t bad but there’s awe shinning through them like sunshine in the dessert, bright and warm and painful with the twisting of old griefs and pains and shocked relief, and Obi-Wan says “I assume I’m going to be arrested?”

One of the men, who wears the rank of a Commander, takes of his helmet and asks, “Permission to speak freely sir?”

“Granted, forever and always.”

The man beams, and answers; “Then with all due respect sir, there is no way we’re going to arrest you.”

“Are you sure? I did just beat the Chancellor of the Republic to death.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Everyone on the Guard wants him dead within their first week here.”

“Thorn put your helmet back on, we’re not safe unless that law’s enforced.” Someone snaps and a different Commander approaches, leading Master Windu and Master Yoda. His shields are beskar-strong, but judging by his voice Obi-Wan would bet he’s glaring at Thorn.

“I’m feeling a bit spiteful.” Thorn grins and Fox gives that familiar huff that usually means the trooper in question is rolling their eyes underneath their helmet.

“Don’t look at us like that we’re not locking you up either.” Mace says dryly when Obi-Wan looks at him. “I will however, make sure your Padawan gets mindhealing sessions if I have to drag him there kicking and screaming myself. He’s overdue anyway.”

Obi-Wan winces but agrees. Quin hadn’t found solid proof of Palpatine grooming Anakin to be his Sith apprentice, but the information he had found made him suspicious. And once he read that, Obi-Wan can see a lot of things that support it.

Windu pulls him into a hug, startling Obi-Wan. The other Master doesn’t often want a lot of physical contact, and for him to initiate hugs is unusual. He sinks into it.

“Do you know how Quinlan is? Bant had to take him to the Halls.”

Windu shook his head. “I’ll ask.”

“To the Temple we will go after, inform everyone, and let you see your friend.” Yoda adds.

“Vos?”

Obi-Wan blinks at the stern commander. His shields are still thick but every single one of the other Guards are radiating concern and Obi-Wan wonders if Quinlan started this investigation because it was the Guard he wanted to protect.

“He found the information on Palpatine and brought it to me. He was seriously injured and delirious when I left him with the Healers.” The Commander twitches, just barely visible, and Obi-Wan asks, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?”

“Commander Fox.”

“Vos looked out for us.” Commander Thorn adds when it’s clear Fox isn’t going to continue. “He did his best to keep civilians off our backs, brought us bacta, snacks, and sweets when he could, tried to make us laugh. He’s our jedi even if it wasn’t official. But we haven’t seen him in weeks.”

Obi-Wan nods in understanding, then turns as Mace looks up.

“He’s in a coma. I can tell you more on the way, I trust the Guard but I don’t want to say this in the open.”

“I’m coming.” Commander Fox states and Commander Thorn nods.

“And perhaps a couple of the men. So we know how he’s doing?”

“I was going to ask one of you if you wanted to come. One would probably be best for now, I don’t know if the Healers are allowing visitors.”

“Just Fox then. I’ll watch out for our vode.” Thorn knocks his forehead gently against Fox’s, murmurs something none of them can hear, and leads the rest of the Guards away. The Jedi and single Commander push through the crowds and pile into a transport.

“Details Mace.”

It’s a sign of how serious it is that Mace doesn’t respond to the tone with a raised brow or eyeroll. “The gangrene is too serious; they have to amputate his leg at the knee. They aren’t sure how far he fell to break it that badly, but they know it’s been untreated for days. Best guess is he was running from someone and couldn’t find a place or the time to take care of it. He’s got some bruising and infected cuts on top of that which makes things worse, but they’re pretty sure they can deal with those. However. He’s not responding well to the healing. It’s not physical, it’s something mental. They aren’t sure what happened.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. Mace grips his shoulder till he stops quivering and asks slowly, “Do you have any idea what exactly happened the past few days?”

“He was almost completely out of it when he got to me.” Obi-Wan murmurs. “He, he said a lot of bad things about himself and a few things that reminded me about how some people talk about the Force. You know, when people call us or our skills unnatural. He wanted to protect someone, I’m not sure if it was the Jedi or the Coruscant Guard or someone else.”

The rest of the ride is quiet and tense.

*

Cody meets his general and general Windu at the hanger and finds himself, once again, relieved he’s wearing his armor. He’s not sure he’d survive his general finding out about the highly inappropriate reaction he had to the sight of his General beating up the Chancellor of the Republic on behalf of the troopers. His only consolation is the fact that he’s absolutely sure all the vode that aren’t asexual had the same reaction.

He is surprised to see Fox there, he hasn’t spoken to him in too long, and when he had Fox had been exhausted and tense. He’s been getting worried. He falls into step beside Fox as Obi-Wan updates him on the situation and waits till there’s no one near their group and murmurs, “You can take off the helmet if you want Fox. I promise they’re safe.”

Fox pauses, then yanks off his helmet almost violently. There’s more grey in his hair than there was last time, and a pair of scabbed-over cuts on his cheekbone. He looks like he was tired to the bone last week and hadn’t gotten any sleep this week.

“Fox-”

“Shut up.” Fox snaps, almost quiet enough to be missed by the generals, and Cody hesitates but thinks of Fox coming here to check on a severely injured jedi and decides to wait.

The Healer tells them that they can see Vos, but that they must be quiet and keep calm. The handful of Cody’s men that followed him wait so it’s Cody, Fox, Obi-Wan, and Windu that follow the healer into the room, Cody to offer moral support to his general as needed.

“Commander!” The healer yelps in alarm as Fox pushes past her, stripping off his glove and reach for the General’s limp hand, and Cody thinks of Obi-Wan using a rare order to keep Marrow at a distance and wonders what the hell Fox is thinking before Vos twitches, bare fingers curving towards where Fox has his fingers laid gently on his palm.

The healer scowled and examined the machines Vos was hooked up to. “The rest of you, no touching. Keep calm. You,” she pointed at Fox, who ignores her, heartbreak plain as day on his face “don’t move.”

Cody stays near the door, watching. Obi-Wan’s eyes have flicked towards Fox a couple times, but mostly he’s focused on General Vos. Windu is the opposite. The healer finishes examining the machines and holds her hand above Vos’ forehead, before making quiet excuses and leaving.

She comes back with Healer Eerin who preforms the same examination. “Anything wrong?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I don’t think so but I’m staying for the next 20 minutes to watch.”

It’s twenty minutes later that Healer Eerin kicks all of them out to eat except for Fox, who she brings a chair for. “I don’t know why, but your presence if helping him heal. I’m sure you have things to do but if it’s possible for you to stay a little-”

“I’m not leaving him.” Fow states, and Cody thinks of General Vos’s words on the bridge and heartbreak that hasn’t left his face and thinks oh.

They leave the door open when they go just for a bit, and Cody can tell Obi-Wan had the same idea as him because there’s concern and something that could become anger on his face. General Windu’s as inscrutable as always but Cody’s heard enough from Ponds to know the man takes threats to the jedi seriously. He shushes his troopers outside and waits.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s enough time that Cody had wondered if Fox was gonna stay silent and the shaking in his voice alarms him almost as much as the words. “I didn’t mean it I promise Quinlan. It was just a bad day and I snapped I’m sorry. You force-damned idiot it must have been days to find that and get so injured you know the Guard would’ve done anything they could for you even if I was being an asshole, you think Thorn didn’t smack me around the head when I told him? You’re our jedi Quinlan and we need you to wake up, I need you to wake up I can’t apologize properly if you’re sleeping, please, the Guard’s lost too many people please don’t let us loose our crazy jedi too.”

Fox is crying by the end of that, shaky sobs that scratch his throat, and Cody hits the panel to shut the door and turns to the two jedi.

“Well that answers that question.” Windo states. “I think the Commander will be there a while.”

“If it helps Quinlan heal I can’t speak against it.” Obi-Wan muttered. He slumps into a chair, exhausted. “It’s been a day. Who wants to eat?”

“I do.” Cody says. “And then I want to head to the barracks and make Thorn tell me what’s been going on with Fox, because I feel like I’m missing something important.”

*

Things get better after that, some slowly, some quickly. The Separatists decide it’s in their best interests to surrender to General Kenobi, and the war wraps up quickly with some planets staying separate and many arrests in the leadership (interestingly, a lot of crime groups that deal with jedi more than they would like to also decide to go clean after that footage. Who’d’ve thought?). The troopers learn about their new home with glee and throw themselves into learning how to be things other than soldiers with a mix of joy and apprehension. It takes time for the Coruscant Guard to be fully comfortable with their other brothers, but it’s something that the rest of the troopers work on furiously when they learn how hellish Coruscant had been for them. Anakin gets so much therapy (as do many other people) and the Jedi use time they have now that the war’s over to start distancing themselves a bit from the Senate, trying to ensure that they can’t be forced to lead an army again.

Fox is there when Quinlan wakes up, asleep and holding Quinlan’s hand and there are tears and apologies and promises. The Guard cheers when they get their general back because they love their crazy jedi as much as the other battalions. And the clones and jedi start to heal together.

#protective rage obi-wan fic #attack of the plot bunnies #why does writing always take longer than I think this poured out and it was still a while I should be in bed but no #the plot bunnies #anyway enjoy #quinlan vos #commander fox #quinlan x fox #probably codywan too but no details here so #star wars #clone wars #no order 66 #cause you know palps isn't giving that from beyond the grave #this is just a fun little fic please don't take it super seriously #jedi #clone troopers #obi wan kenobi #bamf obi-wan #death to palpatine #forgot to add that the idea of madam nu having a squad of troopers came from jocasta jones and the librarian clones #its be papook on ao3 and absolutely wonderful especially if you're a librarian

[baeshijima]

— only under the rain do we shine

just some instances wherein you’re caught under a sudden downpour and you find yourself joined by the company of a familiar man.

INCLUDES : alhaitham ; dainsleif ; diluc ; zhongli

reader is gender neutral w/ you/your pronouns !!

A/N :  *gasp* sophie writing smth in canon timeline rather than an au ??? :shocked_pikachu_face: (blatantly ignores dains part while typing this haha,,,) i just love me some rainy (kinda) romantic moments ;w;;

likes and REBLOGS are appreciated if u enjoyed this !! <33

— alhaitham : kissing in the rain

“are you looking to catch a cold?”

“i’m not cold,” you huff out in response to alhaitham’s remark. “i’m feeling rather warm, actually.”

he blankly eyes your drenched form with scrutiny, and you fight the urge to shiver from the water droplets landing along the back of your neck. it’s not your fault the rain decided to pour when you decided to take a stroll! curse the weather and its unpredictable changes.

he gives a low hum after a few seconds of silence. “then why are your lips trembling?”

“i was just so excited to see you that my lips started to tremble— ack!”

the scribe stares blankly at you once more as he watches you try to rapidly blink away the raindrop that landed in your eye. he takes a brief glance at the downpour steadily increasing in strength before sighing to himself and stepping closer to you, lifting part of his cape to shield you from further onslaughts.

alhaitham had always thought rationality was the best and most efficient course of action. why should one prioritise fleeting emotions over sound evidence and logic? it never made sense to him, and he always thought it would simply stay that way.

well, keyword being “thought”, that is.

had he been told in advance that all sense of rationality would be promptly tossed aside when matters concerning you arose, he would’ve simply ignored that person and walked away. as much as he enjoys listening to others’ viewpoints and thoughts, some things are too illogical and farfetched.

but now he’s become a victim of irrationality and it’s all your fault. whether it’s the accumulation of time he’s spent with you that sparked this unyielding fondness or your terribly reckless habit of acting without much thought beforehand that makes him want to grovel, he doesn’t know. it’s simply a mystery to him how you’ve managed to weasel your way into his heart and plague his mind without much effort.

was it a year ago? no, it was longer than that. perhaps back in your student days? well, thinking back on it won’t change the irreversible. even when you smile at him like you are now, a sight to behold for his traitorous heart that only dares to pound so erratically when in your presence. even now the rain does little to deter him. in fact, it only seems to spiral him further, what with the way the raindrops drip off the contours of your face makes his mind shut down and fixate on the wet gleam along your lips.

ah. screw it.

in a deft movement he dips towards you, head angled and perfectly aligned with yours. something happens, and it’s only after his lips reluctantly part from yours do you realise what it was.

your lips tingle. is it from the kiss or is it from the heat steadily washing over you, the cold now drowned out?

“you’re warmer now.”

there’s something off about his tone — it’s filled with unspoken passion and void of his usual mechanical composure; almost as though he’s come to a groundbreaking revelation.

he stays close, lips barely a hair’s breadth away from yours. as much as you want to deny it, you can’t help but to agree with his statement. in fact, you’ve long-since forgotten the fact it was raining until now.

(mentally though, of course. you wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you openly admitting the affect he has on you. even if he knows a bit too well. but you can just ignore that.)

“however,” he continues in a mutter, and you suddenly find yourself at his mercy as his hand takes hold of your cheek in a gentle caress. “i don’t think you’re quite warm enough.”

yeah, maybe it would be a good idea to stop here and get out of the rain before one of you actually catches a cold. but alhaitham has only ever experienced irrationality and impulsive desires when with you, and this time is no exception.

— dainsleif : seeking shelter from the rain

sidestep to the left. duck. parry. clang! step to the right. clack! raise your arm—!

a resounding thud echoes across the training grounds. you catch your breath on the ground as you watch your training sword skid across the dirt before coming to a stop at the edge of the ring.

“you’ve gotten better, [name],” dainsleif states with a smile. he leans down with one hand stretched out towards you, the other clutching his own training sword at his side.

you huff lightheartedly and accept his hand. “i’m still light years away from your level of skill, captain.”

“what matters is your improvement. don’t be comparing yourself to others.”

you roll your eyes and walk over to the benches, guzzling down the contents of your water bottle and wiping away the lingering sweat with a spare towel. how typical of him. i’ll compare myself as much as i want just to spite him.

“and don’t drink your water so quickly. you’ll choke—” 

his reprimands are cut short when you interrupt him with a slew of coughs, your fist banging against your sternum. immediately, he panics. he rushes to your side and hovers over you for a second or two before patting your back in hopes of alleviating your discomfort.

you settle not a moment after, and he would be breathing a sigh of relief if not for the cunning glint in your expression. if he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t believe you nearly lost to a bottle of water mere seconds ago.

“y’know, captain, you’re a really clumsy guy.”

“and whose fault do you think that is...” he finds himself muttering. it’s moments like these he’s glad you don’t hear him, for the embarrassment would be too much if you saw the opportune moment to tease him.

“hm? did you say something?” your only response is him turning away and downing his own water. isn’t that hypocritical of him? did he not just see what happened to you, or does he want to experience it that badly?? “uh, captain? shouldn’t you slow down there—” drip. “huh?”

a drop of water hits the tip of your nose. just as you’re about to squint up at the sky, you find yourself being pulled along to the nearest sheltered area in haste. unfortunately, the tree your captain pulled you to does little to avoid the downpour now ensuing, but it’s the thought that counts.

the rain persists and you can just about make out the blurry figures of your comrades running under cover somewhere far off. from what you can see, however, they seem to be having about the same luck as you both.

(you could’ve sworn you saw one knight nearly face-plant if it weren’t for the saving grace known as halfdan, who barely managed to catch him in time.)

with no end in sight you turn to your captain wringing the excess water from his gloves behind you, only for the words you were about to say dissipate at the tip of your tongue instead and a new sound replace it.

it wasn’t intentional, but the laugh that slips by your lips is good-natured all the same. with how the rain made your captain’s hair all flat and stuck to his face, it was impossible to not find the sight at least a little cute. and so without much thought you reach up, brushing away the damp strands from going into his eyes with such concentration that you miss the way his eyes widen and quiver, his body stiffening in place.

his throat runs dry at the close proximity, and he would feel embarrassed by the heat engulfing his body if not for his brain short-circuiting.

“there!” you grin, eyes closing in tandem with your widening smile, and the twilight sword finds himself at a loss once more when before you. “now your hair won’t obstruct your view!”

you’re right. he can see you clearer than before. though that holds little weight when the rest of the world always seems to blur together and leave only you to stand unaffected in the centre of it all — in the centre of his world.

(to hope for this time with you to last an eternity… is that such a selfish thought?)

— diluc : lending the other their jacket

crystalflies had always been a fascinating entity in your eyes. its existence was something akin to that from a fairy tale, though you suppose with the addition of visions and elemental lifeforms anything could be possible.

perhaps it’s the way they always seemed to flock to and hover over you ever since you were young, always keeping you company when you were on your own. people have always said they disliked human interaction, opting to flee when a certain perimeter is met. but you’ve never encountered such an issue — maybe they are the problem.

you blink at the crystalfly sat in your cupped hands, the anemo particles shimmering gently in the darkened rain.

well, they’re cute at least.

a weight abruptly drops itself atop your head and the crystalfly resting in your palms flutters away. from the warmth and scent alone you knew who the culprit and owner of the jacket was.

you turn your head to glance over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and a petty heart. “you didn’t have to scare away the crystalfly like that.”

the winery tycoon merely sighs at your accusatory tone. “i think preventing you from getting sick is more important than a crystalfly getting scared.”

“i’m strong!”

“say that again after remembering the incident from last time,” diluc instantly retorts.

at that you fall silent, a defeated pout settling upon recalling your bedridden week during the last heavy downpour. actually, scratch that, you don’t really want to remember.

(both the incessant pain and diluc’s worried-sick expressions... yeah. you’d rather forget that time.)

hugging the coat to also cover your body you glance up from your crouched form to inspect the expression the man has right now. aside from his usual nonchalant expression there’s a forlorn glaze in his eyes as he stares into something inconceivable to your eyes, but you can hazard a guess as to what it was that caused him to fall into this stupor. (it was raining heavily like this on that day, too, after all.)

“and what about you? what can your short sleeves do in this weather?” you take a jab, and it effectively snaps him out of his daze. unfortunately for you, however, he makes one back.

“i, at least, have plenty of body heat to keep me warm, so i’ll be fine.” you’re about to let out a protest, but he cuts in before you can ever open your mouth. “that’s why i gave you my jacket. is it not warm enough?”

you can’t deny it. it’s warm — too warm, almost. but it’s comforting nonetheless.

diluc’s eyes soften when you bury your face into the warmth of his coat. that familiar flutter of his heart soars once more, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you even if he wanted to.

when he couldn’t find you within the manor he panicked, the dropping of his heart heavier than before. finding you crouched by the grapevines surrounded by crystalflies was no strange sight, but with the recent fluctuations of the weather it made him worry more. so he rushed, driven by the sight of you lying sick in his bed on a similar day to this to prevent you from being in such pain once more.

for you, who’s been by his side even through both his best and his worst, this is the very least he can do; diluc can only hope you accept his company into the unforeseeable future as well.

“come on, let’s go in. adelinde prepared dinner for us while you were out gallivanting in the rain.”

“wha— i was not gallivanting! the crystalflies called for me!”

“yes, yes. let’s hurry now or you really will get sick again.”

— zhongli : sharing an umbrella

liyue harbor always seems bustling, so much so that you can’t recall a time where it wasn’t throughout your years of living here. even when a steady downpour occurs, just like now.

“of course it’s just my luck the rain starts after i finish shopping,” you mumble. you’re grateful the shopkeeper lent you one of their spare umbrellas just as it started. if not for them you would’ve been sprinting through liyue’s streets just to get back home without too much damage done to your shopping.

well, life seems to enjoy spiting you.

a lonesome figure catches your eye amidst the rushing crowd, and it takes you a moment to realise it’s zhongli. you always thought of him to be rather otherworldly, but standing still in the middle of such a downpour is a whole new kind of, uh, otherworldly. can’t all be sane and good-looking, you suppose.

he’s someone you’ve come to worry about in the time you’ve known him (which, admittedly, isn’t all that long. it’s like he just appeared one day out of the blue and stayed ever since!). he’s rather wise and has a good head on his shoulders, but even so, there are moments where his expression shifts; like he knows something you shouldn’t even dare to dream of, or sees something far beyond your comprehension. there are times where even his shared stories and history lectures have an unspoken sense of experience.

in short, he’s an enigma. a bit of a weirdo sure, but not enough to the point you’d avoid him altogether.

and so it’s because of that very sentiment you’re changing course and heading towards him instead of the comfort of your home. can’t have one of the few good people you know catch a cold now, can you?

he’s lost in thought, zhongli is. the rain has minimal affect on him, the ongoing war raging constantly within his body being more detrimental than a few drops of rain. so really it’s easy for him to reminisce on days such as this — alone in dreary weather accompanied by a sombre mood... it’s practically the perfect setup.

idly, he wonders just how many rainy days such as this have gotten him so wistful. no, perhaps it would be best to not think too deeply on it and continue on his way.

a shadow hovers over him and he can no longer feel the dampness of the rain stain his clothes. he glances up — an umbrella? — and not a moment later does he turn, your narrowed gaze meeting his perplexed one. 

“jeez, you’re such a handful.”

...he is?

with a sigh you take a step forward. zhongli blinks at the gesture, only noticing a second later your outstretched arm holding an umbrella between you both and connects the dots.

“there’s no need to worry about me,” he says, about to urge your umbrella back to shield you in your entirety. unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn.

“but you’ll get sick if you keep standing out here the way you were just now. we can just share.”

but i’m not a mortal like you, he wants to retort. he’s not like you, who can get sick without a moments notice. he’s not like you, who has only ever known life within the comforts of liyue harbor and its people. he’s not like you, whose blissfully radiant smile eases his weary soul. he’s not like you, who can effortlessly adapt to and understand human emotion. he’s not like you... you who deserves something meaningful in your fleeting lifespan.

he’s not like you, and you’re not like him. (oh, how he hopes you never have to face even a minuscule fraction of what he’s been through.)

it is only after your persistent stare does he eventually cave, a defeated smile resting helplessly on his lips at this situation.

“then allow me to at least hold the umbrella.”

and you beam at him in response, hugging your soggy shopping bag to your chest in delight.

“alright!”

he’s not like you, but maybe he can learn how to be while by your side.

(just for a moment, perhaps he can forget about the corrosion eating away at him. even if it’s as fleeting as the days that pass by.)

general taglist : @tiredsleep​ @hannas16​ @volexis​ @ladycoleigh​ @sea-of-dandelions​ @fandangotales​ @absolutely-rational​ @starforecasts​ @lilikags​ @astranne​ @irethepotato​​ @usertsubaki​​ @0ni0m​ @yanderealm​​ 

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#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #dainsleif x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #zhongli x reader

[luvh4nji]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 + 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

warning: none that i can think, however, i wrote this with bestfriend!bonedo in mind !

sungho ; a little shocked. he seems like the type to always be shocked whenever someone confesses to him, generally, but when he figures out it was you - he's a little speechless. he's so touched and you can tell through how he looks at you; his gaze is softer, more reverent. and it's in the way he touches you, his hands cupping your cheeks, making you look up at him, thumbs brushing over the crest of your cheek bones.

"i kept all of them." he tells you, showing you the box he keeps in his closet, filled with every letter you've ever sent him. some of the papers are more crumpled than other, as if they'd been used; folded and unfolded countless times. and he gives you this shy smile, reaching a hand over to grab yours, lacing the fingers together and promising to pay you back.

riwoo ; he gets so flustered. the thought of someone feeling so strongly about him that they write him a letter telling him how much they like him? he's honored. however, he seems like the type to already be pining for his best friend, so he doesn't take the letter as seriously as he would have otherwise. but once he figures out it was you, when he sees you slipping a letter into his duffel bag in the practice room, he's immediately interested, instantly confronting you.

"you wrote these?" he'd ask, looking at you with big eyes, as if he isn't fully convinced. "really? you really feel that way about me?" and he gets so overwhelmed when you nod, your face burning at the attention, he just walks over, his hands cupping your neck, making you look at him. "can i kiss you? i really wanna kiss you right now."

jaehyun ; he gets cocky. especially if he catches you slipping one into his bag. he'd walk up to you, giving you that crooked smile he has, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush into his side, lovingly teasing you for leaving him little love notes when you could've just told him. nevertheless, he loves it and when he lets you know how much he loves it, how much he loves you.

"you're so cute, y'know that?" he mumbles, rubbing his hand up and down your arm and cooing at how flustered you are. "but why didn't you just tell me. i thought i made my feelings pretty obvious." he jokes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger on the skin for a moment longer than needed. "lemme take you out. just the two of us i can show you how much i like you."

taesan ; it makes him so shy. the minute he finds the box of love letters under your bed in your room, all addressed to him, he can't help the blush that coats his features. he'd wait a little while before he confronted you about it, pouring over the letters when you weren't there, trying to commit every part of them to memory. and when he does finally confront you about them, he's still so shy, stuttering his way through it.

"i... i saw your letters." he blurts, pulling one out from the pocket of his coat, watching as your eyes widen in shock and abject horror. "i wanted t-to tell you that... i feel the same." and he'd definitely write you a letter in return, detailing how enamored he's been with you for years, starting the letters with dear love and signing them your dongmin.

leehan ; seems like the type to have a lot of admirers, so he's not too fazed when he finds the letter you left for him. but, as he's reading it, he can't help but notice how familiar the writing is, in both handwriting and words. he'd absolutely figure out it was you on his own, but he'd wait for you to say something. he doesn't want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable in anyway. you're is baby, after all.

"i know." he'd say, giving you a soft smile, his gaze impossibly gentle as he looks down at you. and he laughs when you ask him how he could've known, saying, "we've been friends since before i can remember, i'd be concerned if i didn't." but he stops when he realizes how shy you'd gotten, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "i liked it, y/n. i like you."

woonhak ; a self-proclaimed romantic, he loves it so much. he's definitely the type to run up to you after he gets the letter, excitedly telling you about how he found the letters he's been getting in his mailbox. it isn't until he notices how quiet you've gotten that he connects the dots. and then he's so sweet, and so happy, his best friend, the person he's been pining over for years, wrote him a love letter?

"you don't even know-" he cuts himself off, a big smile taking over his features as he gathers you in his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, his hold tightening as the seconds go by. "did you mean all that stuff? like really?" and he can't help but pull you in even tighter when you nod against his chest, voice muffled as you tell him you did. "thank god."

#boynextdoor #bonedo #bnd #boynextdoor reactions #bonedo reactions #bnd reactions #boynextdoor headcanons #bonedo headcanons #bnd headcanosn #boynextdoor imagines #bonedo imagines #bnd imagines #boynextdoor fluff #bonedo fluff #bnd fluff #taesan #han dongmin #leehan #kim donghyun #kim woonhak #riwoo #lee sanghyeok #park sungho #myung jaehyun

[pathetic-sapphic]

Omg I saw the one with Viktor with a S/O struggling academically and now I'm curious. Could you maybe do the same with the milfs? If not that's totally fine!! Love your writing omg if I could inject it into my veins I would

Arcane milfs with a S/O who is struggling academically

SEVIKA has never been one for academics. She found that most pedagogical teachings exempt educating and coaching skills which are actually useful in life. To live in Zaun, you need different skills and methods than those that are taught in school. But she finds it interesting to see how passionate you are about your studies and supports anything that makes you happy. However, she notices that your happiness and excitement have dimmed down. You're no longer as eager to attend lectures and you sigh heavily whenever you sit down at your study table. Eventually, she decides that enough is enough and calls you over to sit on her lap. She demands you tell her what's wrong and, as soon as she notices your lip quivering, pulls you into her arms. She caresses your hair and lets you vent, telling you how proud she is to have such a smart and witty girlfriend, how hard you've been working, and that everything is going to be okay. You're her smart girl and no amount of schoolwork can change that. She is more than happy to help you get your mind off of your duties and if you feel as if you need to take a longer break from your studies, she would gladly provide for you and take care of you. Sevika's only goal is to make sure you're happy, safe, and healthy.

''Oh babygirl, I hate seeing you tear yourself apart like this. Who cares if you got a lower grade? You'll get a better one next time, I'm sure of it. Of course you will! You're always working so hard, pouring over those damn textbooks and research papers. I can't even read those while you're over there writing them! There's that pretty smile! It'll all work itself out, baby, you'll see. For now, you deserve some rest, let me spoil you today.''

With how absent she is due to her job, it'll take a while for GRAYSON to realize just how much you're overworking yourself and how low your mood is. At first, she'll brush it off, thinking that you're probably just tired and that you'll be back to your usual cheery self in no time. However, a week passed and nothing changed. It's not until she comes home late one night that she realizes how dire the situation is once she finds your sleeping form at the table. She thought you'd be in bed by now, but here you were, bags under your eyes and coffee mugs surrounding your exhausted form, papers strewn all over your study desk. Grayson gently lifts you up bridal style and carries you off to bed. The next morning, she has a serious discussion with you, she needs you to understand that your health comes first. Grayson is heartbroken when she sees how upset and stressed out you are, she holds you in her arms and listens patiently as you talk through your sobs, mumbling about how you feel like you're behind everyone else and not doing enough. She does her best to comfort you and make you realize that you can't compare yourself to others, everyone has different abilities and needs. And now, what you need most is to rest, and she'll see to it personally that you do so and replenish your strength.

''Darling, would you explain to me why I found you asleep at your desk late last night? I know you have work to do, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. I should have acted as soon as I noticed that something was off, but I thought it'd pass. I'm truly sorry, my love. I had no idea that you were struggling this much. I promise I'll be here for you from now on and help you learn to take care of yourself. You could never be a burden, you're my smart and kind girl and I love you more than anything. You deserve to rest now, just let me take care of you.''

CASSANDRA considers studies and knowledge to be something of great importance and always makes sure that you're equipped with the best materials and best tutors. She often boasts to her colleagues about how smart her darling girl is and makes sure to be well-invested in whatever you're currently studying. Because of her status and intelligence, you have a big fear of letting your lover down. She is rich, smart, and capable, so everyone has big expectations that you must match in order to prove yourself worthy of her. However, you don't think that you're meeting those expectations at all. You have the best tutors the whole region has to offer and any book or research paper you could imagine is right at your fingertips. So why in the hell do you feel so burned out and stuck? You feel as if you've hit a wall, as if there is no more possible progression for you. You feel stuck in place, like something is swallowing you up and you can't for the life of you get out. It all becomes too much one night when you start sobbing over your work, tears soaking the inked paper. You jolt as you feel a gentle gloved hand on your shoulder, whipping around only for your teary eyes to meet Cassandra's worried gaze. You start apologizing as she shushes you and hugs you, gently rocking you and caressing your hair. You'll be okay, she'll make sure of it.

''Come here, darling, it's okay. Shh, don't apologize, you haven't done anything wrong. You've been working so hard lately, I know that. You must be so tired, but it's okay, you can rest now. Don't argue with me, please, my love. I can tell how exhausted you are, it's okay to take a break. Come now, let's have a bath and go to bed, let me pamper you for a bit. You've done so well, beloved.

AMBESSA has had to go through many subjects and studies due to her status and duties while growing up, but that doesn't mean she's fond of them. She prefers doing physical activities over staying cooped up in a study all day. However, if you wish to pursue further academic education, she is more than happy to support it. Much like Cassandra, she financially supports you and tries to check in whenever she can, despite having no such interest in those subjects. But for you, she'd sit through numerous seminars and listen to you ramble about your research for hours with a satisfied smile. She loves seeing you passionate and showing off your wits. Ambessa is aware that everyone has their limit and has expected you to hit your own for a while now. Nothing is perfect and you are bound to struggle eventually, but she is prepared. As soon as she notices you're getting too frustrated with your work, Ambessa sweeps you away to her private chamber, making sure you forget all about your academic troubles. She has you take a steaming bath with her and then cuddles and attacks you with kisses once you're both in bed. She has you sit in her lap as you eat dinner and lays a kiss on the side of your head every once in a while, calling you her hard-working and clever pet.

''Oh, I believe that is enough of that. Come along now, love, there's a bath and dinner with your name on it and it's best not to waste our time. I'm not distracting you, I'm just merely making sure you get your energy back by resting. You've been at it all day, it's high time for you to take a break. Now, be a good girl and listen to me, hm? You know what happens when I get mad. Good choice, my clever pet. Let's go take that bath now.''

a/n: i apologize that my updates have been slow, i'm writing on a broken laptop and i'm a uni student who also works two part time jobs so i'm often too tired or busy to write every day :(( anyways i hope you like this <3 and thank you for the kind words anon!!

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane headcanons #requests are open #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane grayson #grayson x reader #arcane grayson x reader #arcane cassandra #cassandra kiramman x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane milfs

[ascendanttarot]

PAC: Channelling Your Present Energy

Hi, guys! This will be a PAC on your energy as of right now. I'll be channelling using tarot and automatic writing. I tried to make this reading as clear as I could, but all the messages I got were more sensory feelings than outright words/phrases. I hope you find this reading useful to you regardless. :)

I will not be listing any signs before the reading as I do with my other longer PACs. I suggest really going with your gut here, and if the message immediately doesn’t feel right, I recommend picking a different pile.

Please remember your fate is not set in stone so your answers may change depending on the actions you take and will take if you please. Tarot is not a substitute for professional advice. The images I’ve used are not mine.

From left to right, Pile 1, 2 & 3.

Pile 1

Your Cards: The Magician rx, The Ace of Cups

Your Reading: Before we start Pile 1, I want to say that I actually had difficulty tapping into your energy. When I closed my eyes to channel instead, I smelled rain, but I couldn’t feel the rain on my skin as if to say you’ve cried all the tears you had left. I saw a fog, but I couldn’t see anything beyond that. When I tried pulling your cards again, the exact same cards (even the reversal stayed the same) from last time came out while I was shuffling, so that shows a level of certainty despite the confusion.

Your present energy feels like quiet hope, like a calm after the storm, not before it. Your present energy feels misty. Going back to the storm analogy, it feels like there was a storm in the middle of summer, and the rain poured down while you were outside, and you kept anticipating a lightning bolt to strike you down because you felt your hair stand up without your volition but it never came.

I think you’re starting to regain a bit of optimism in your life, but you aren’t letting it show because you’re scared you’ll jinx yourself. I think you’ve been manifesting something specific in your life too, but you haven’t told anyone because of self-doubt and fear of people undermining your ambition. It’s an ‘I’m not happy now but I could be’ energy. I could see golden threads around your aura connecting you to your manifestation, and your soul tugs on it from time to time. You may not see that happening but whenever you get a surge of motivation to work on your goals, this is your higher self pulling this golden string towards you just a little bit closer.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 1!

Pile 2

Your Cards: The Tower, Justice rx (clarified by The Star)

Your Reading: The first thing I saw when I channelled your energy was this Katniss Everdeen-type character. I know this message is odd, but I genuinely saw this blank character in the woods fighting for their life, and they’re whistling to try to get someone’s attention but the only reply was an echo of your previous whistle. You’re alone. I can physically feel leather armour digging into my skin like I haven’t taken it off for days.

Okay onto the reading. We can’t ignore the fact that you got all major arcana cards. Even the extra card that jumped out to clarify Justice was The Star. That speaks huge volumes about what your energy is like right now.

Pile 2, do you have a fear of being judged? Does this fear come from past experiences when you felt people didn’t listen to you correctly? Because your energy also feels like listening to the news using an old radio, but you just can’t seem to fix the signal. You tried walking around the house and moving the antenna only to make the audio quality sound worse.

Your energy screams potential. Why do you think people tried to put you down? There’s a strong message here that you don’t have to dim your light because you’re scared of blinding the neighbourhood. Of course you’ll overgrow your ‘house’—your ‘home’ was always meant to be something bigger. Don’t let anyone stop you from building that.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 2!

Pile 3

Your Cards: 7 of Pentacles, The Emperor

Your Reading: Okay, stay with me here, but your energy feels like a crocheted gift. Interwoven between the yarn is this bright yet earthy energy of hard work and time. In fact, it feels like time acts differently around your energy.

Some people view time in two categories: time spent and time lost. You, on the other hand, don’t go against time but are working with it like you’re one and the same. This energy feels like hyper-focusing on a task until you go through everything with a fine-tooth comb to perfection, and there’s a calendar in front of you but it switches between languages every second until the years look like glitched-out glyphs.

It’s like you’ve got this celestial energy no one can seem to pin down. It's weird because people think you’re lucky, but they underestimate you at the same time. And guess what? They’re wrong on both accounts.

I mean, c'mon, you literally got The Emperor! I think the people who see you working hard don’t see a point in what you’re doing. Like, if we’re going back to the crochet analogy, they may think you’re wasting your time crocheting a scarf when you could just buy it. What they don’t realise is that this skill will lead to a successful business in the future, or maybe you’ll discover a new technique after a few months that will give you the recognition you deserve. The people who think you’re lucky will think you rose to the top out of nowhere and that you haven't actually earned your status.

There’s a message to not listen to them. They only know as much as they have lived. They don’t know how much work you’ve put in to be able to get to where you are and where you will be.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 3!

#pick a card #pac #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #divination #spirituality #witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #next chapter of your life

[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Four)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 4K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, a therapy session, some Ellie/Reader fluff but nothing else - let me know if I've missed anything!

Authors Note / You know when I said this would be slow burn? I really meant it. I really hope you guys aren't getting bored but I promise things are going to heat up from Chapter 5 onwards 👀 Thank you once again for all your love on this series - I say it every time but it's really close to my heart and to know you guys are enjoying it really does mean the world! If you like this then please considering reblogging, leaving comments or popping into my ask box with some love! I love y'all!

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You never thought you’d be the kind of person who needed a therapist. Even when your parents had passed in quick succession before the outbreak you’d managed to carry on with the distraction of normal life, processing your grief quickly, distracting yourself with finishing school and applying for college. Even now, when you thought back to them, it was with fond memories. Nowhere near the level of grief you had now after losing Mark. 

Maybe it was the change in the world or the fact that Mark had been a part of your life longer than your parents had? You didn’t really know. Maria had suggested that trying to unpack your feelings with a therapist would be beneficial for you, someone neutral who could help you back to the person you’d been before he’d died. It had been six months since you first sat in this chair, the same feeling of anxiety you had then was apparent now, as Belinda poured you a glass of water and situated a box of tissues on the table, you took one, knowing you’d need it like you always did. 

“So, how are you?” She asks, settling down in the chair opposite you with her notepad resting on her crossed knee. 

“I’m okay.” You say simply. 

This is a rehearsed response. You always say it. Because if you needed a therapist, were you ever okay? 

Belinda nods like she always did, “I wanted to start today by revisiting what we spoke about last time,” Her voice is high and sweet and she’s at least twenty years older than you, “Remember we spoke about doing something to push yourself out of your comfort zone?” She asks, and you nod, “Did you do anything since our last session to work on that?” 

You take a deep breath; how much should you tell her? 

“I have, yeah.” 

“That’s good,” She praises, a genuine smile on her mouth, “Can you tell me about it?” 

“I went to The Tipsy Bison last week.” Is all you offer her. 

“With Tommy and Maria?” 

You nod, “And his brother and the little girl he’s got.” 

She quirks her eyebrow a little, if you hadn’t been paying close attention to her face you would have missed it, “And would you say Tommy’s brother is a friend?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, I guess so, he came around a few weeks ago and fixed my porch step and he’s helping to build the table and chairs that Mark was going to do before he got sick.” 

“Do you talk to him about Mark?” 

“We’ve spoken a little about him, he actually lost his own daughter on outbreak day, so I guess I feel like he understands what I’m going through.” 

She nods, “Let’s go back a bit and talk about going to the bar,” She writes something down on her notepad, you never really know what it is she’s writing, “Was it as bad as you had expected?” 

You look down at your hands, scrunched tissue in one hand as your nails pick at the skin of your cuticles, “I was nervous about going, and I think I stood outside the door waiting to go in for too long, my mind was thinking of what would happen, like I would open the door and everyone would stop and go silent and just look at me, but no-one really noticed, but when we sat down to have a drink, someone said something and it kinda ruined everything.” 

“What did they say?” She pushes. 

You sigh, “That I’d made a miraculous recovery all of a sudden.” 

“And how did that make you feel?” Ah. The classic therapy question. 

You take a moment to formulate your answer in your mind, “I was angry,” You reply, “But not at the person who said it, I was angry at myself because it was true.” 

“But is it true?” Belinda pushes, “From my perspective, of course we’ve made steps since you first began coming to see me, but I don’t think either of us think you’re fully recovered, do we?” 

You shake your head to agree with her, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that sure, what was said wasn’t really true, but it’s the things they didn’t say which made me think they are,” Belinda is looking at you to continue explaining, “In the back of my mind I thought, well of course I’m recovered if I’m sat in a bar with a smile on my face, and if I can do this then why can’t I go back to work? Why can’t I start contributing to the community again? That’s what I think they’re saying in their heads about me.” 

“But you don’t know that do you?” She asks, “This is something I’ve noticed about you, that you project your own feelings onto other people, even though you have no idea what else they’re really thinking.” 

You nod because she’s not wrong, of course she’s not, “How do I stop?” You almost beg her. 

She shrugs a little, “You’ve got to stop caring about what other people think,” She says it like it’s the simplest thing to do, “Of course not the people who really matter to you, Maria, Tommy, his brother, their opinions matter, but those people who you see in passing, what they think doesn’t matter because they don’t really know you.” 

She looks briefly to her watch, “We don’t have much time left, but I’m proud of you, and if you think you’re ready to go back to work then challenge yourself, maybe ask Maria for a couple of hours a week, just to ease yourself back in, and we can talk about it a bit more next week?” You nod in agreement, “And it’s good to hear you’re making new friends too, I think Tommy’s brother might be someone to keep around if it makes you comfortable, friend’s with shared experiences can be helpful in recovery.” 

You nod in understanding and spend a few minutes agreeing on what day and time you’ll meet next week before she’s ushering you out of her office in time for her next patient. As you stand in front of her office, a thought spring to your mind. This is the first time you’ve left having not cried. The tissue is still dry in your hand, a small victory that you can hand yourself on your journey to healing. 

*

Just ten minutes later you are stood outside Maria’s house, knocking on the door. You can hear shuffling behind the door before she pulls it open, a look of shock written on her face that it’s you. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks. 

“As fine as it normally is,” You respond, “I was just coming back from Belinda’s and I wanted to ask you something.” 

“You want to come inside?” She asks, “I’ve just made coffee.” 

You gladly accept and before long you’re both sat on the couch, sipping coffee, “I think I’d like to go back to work.” You say simply before you get the opportunity to chicken out. 

She almost chokes on the coffee she’d just taken a drink of, “Are you sure?” 

“Definitely not full time,” You’re quick to add, “I just want to start with a few hours and see if I’m okay.” 

“Where’s this come from?”  You let out a sigh, “I’m fed up Maria,” You speak honestly, “Fed up of people thinking I’m useless, fed up of spending every day in the same four walls,” And then you add, “And I’m fed up of thinking that Mark would hate what I’ve become over him.” 

She pauses for a moment, “Let me speak to Kate and see if we can sort something out from next week,” She smiles, “I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have you back, she always complains that Charlotte still doesn’t understand the library system,” She puts on a poor imitation of Kate’s accent, “Jane Austen next to Philippa Gregory.” 

You both laugh and you think it’s truly the first time you’ve properly laughed in what feels like forever. You spend a little more time with her, finishing your coffee before leaving her to it and as you walk down the street towards your own home, you can’t deny that you feel a little lighter than normal. 

*

It’s Monday afternoon, one of two afternoon’s you’ve agreed to step back into the library to help. Kate had suggested it because it was the afternoon that the teacher’s brought the kids down to choose a book to take home. It would be busy enough to distract you and meant you wouldn’t spend your time sat thinking. 

You’d already helped two classes this afternoon, the last class we’re due in a few minutes, so Kate and you were enjoying a moment to sit and recuperate over a cup of tea. Well. Tea was stretching it – it was Kate’s usual concoction of boiled water and water flavourings she could get her hands on. Today it was lemon slices and honey, but it was warm and soothing so you wouldn’t complain. 

“I’m really happy to see you.” She speaks honestly, grasping at your arm to give it a squeeze, “I know this can’t have been easy, but I’ve hope we’ve not scared you off.” 

You offer a small smile, “I’ve actually enjoyed it, I guess my therapist was right when she said finding distractions would be helpful.” 

Kate is about to speak again when the library door swings open and the older children start filing in, their teacher doing his best to corral them into the middle of the room. It’s just as you remember, he tells them they’ve got fifteen minutes to browse and choose and book and once they have, they need to come to the front desk to check it out. 

You notice Ellie is part of the group, she’s hanging back, shuffling from foot-to-foot, but once her teacher lets them go, she’s just as excited as everyone else, picking up books and reading the covers. She’s one of the first to bring her choice over to the desk. You smile as you take it from her. 

“Artemis Fowl?” You grin, “Great choice, it’s really good.” You write her name in the checking-out book and then the title of the book, before writing the date three weeks from now that she needs to bring it back on the inside cover of the book.

“I didn’t know you worked here.” She comments, taking the book back from you. 

“I’m only here for two afternoons, trying to ease myself back into things, but yeah, before everything happened with Mark, this was my full-time job.” 

“I bet you’ve read everything here, right?” 

“Not quite,” You smirk, “But pretty much, if you ever want to know what else is good to read, you know where to come.” 

She smiles and says thank you and just before she turns to leave, “Say, you don’t think you could ask Joel to pop by sometime and finish up the table for me, could you?” 

She smirks, “Only if I can come so you can teach me how to make pie?” 

You hold out your hand and she takes it to shake, “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

*

 It isn’t until Sunday that Joel and Ellie turn up at your front door. Summer really is in full swing now and it’s warm. You’ve been padding about in the garden trying to clear up, tank top now slightly sticking to your back from the thin sheen of sweat you’ve worked up and you think it’s possible the skin on your legs will be burnt when you finish up for the day. 

Joel heads straight for the back porch with his toolbox in hand, Ellie lingers at the kitchen table. 

“Do you want coffee?” You ask, tilting your head around the open back door. 

He shakes his head, “Water would be nice though.” 

You head back to the kitchen and pour three glasses of water from the jug in your fridge, adding lemon slices to give it a little flavour. Joel thanks you when you had him the glass and you smile at him before heading back to the kitchen to focus on Ellie. 

“Alright, you ready?” You ask and she nods with enthusiasm, “I tried to get apples at the market, but they were all out, so I’m afraid it’s cherries today.” 

You bring out a bowl of cherries from the fridge and put them out the counter, “The first thing we need to do is wash them and take the stones out, it’s a bit fiddly but it’s fun, I promise.” 

You rummage around in your cutlery drawer for the pair of chopsticks you know are hidden somewhere. You can almost imagine the family living in this house before the world went to shit, sitting at their table, eating Chinese food with them. God, what you wouldn’t give for fried rice right now. You had one of the sticks to Ellie once she’s washed her hands and rinsed the fruit. 

“So, you take a cherry and pull the stem off,” You do it to show her, “And then you eat the first one to make sure the fruit is okay,” You smile as you pop the cherry into your mouth, watching as she does the same, “You think they’re good?” 

She’s smiling at you, “They’re fucking great!” 

You spit the stone into your palm and put your hand near her face for her to do the same before you discard the stones in the trash bin next to you, “Okay, now we know they’re good, what you need to do is take the smaller end of the chopstick, and can you see where you pulled the stem out from?” You point to the spot on her fruit, “You just push the end through it and hopefully….” You draw out as you push your stick into the cherry between your fingers, the stone pops out through the bottom, “That will happen!” 

You watch as Ellie copies your movements, the stone popping out through the bottom of the cherry, “Does it matter that the fruit broke?” She asks, placing her destoned cherry in the bowl with your own. 

“Not at all, we’ve got to break them to eat them, right?” 

Joel is working studiously just outside the kitchen window and when you reach the last cherry in the bowl, you take it in hand, opening the window, “Hey Joel?” You call, he looks up from his work and you dangle the cherry out into the open space, he smiles as he takes it, popping it into his mouth before mirroring what you’d done, spitting the pip into his hand and slinging it over the side of your fence. 

It strikes you in this moment that being with Joel and Ellie is effortless. Although they both know what happened and a little about how you’ve delt with it, they don’t seem to judge you, neither of them look at you with sorry written in their eyes, they don’t press you to talk about things you don’t want to and they both seem genuinely interested in what you have to say, or in Ellie’s case, teach them. 

You take Ellie through the rest of the steps of preparing the fruit, drizzling them in a little honey in place of sugar, teaching her how to make the pastry, which involves more flour ending up on both of you that it does in the recipe. You let her pour the fruit into the pastry and decide which kind of top she wants on it. She’s a girl after your own heart and opts for lattice. 

Once it’s in the oven baking, Ellie sits on your couch with her book whilst you tidy up. You refill her glass of water before heading out to do the same to Joel’s. He’s almost finished with the table, just a few more planks of wood to hammer into the top and he’ll be done. 

“Thanks,” He says simply when you fill his glass, he takes it and drinks deeply, brushing his forehead for sweat, you stand with him for a while, “Ellie says she saw you at the library earlier this week, is that where you work?” He’s making polite conversation and you smile. 

“I worked there before everything happened,” You explain, “I was speaking to my therapist a few weeks ago who said she thought it would be a positive step for me, so I’m just doing two afternoons a week to ease me back in,” You refill his glass when he’s finished with it, “Baby steps and all that.” 

“S’good,” He nods, “You seem a bit happier today.” 

“I think it’s more to do with her,” You speak honestly, motioning your head inside to where Ellie is, “She’s a great kid Joel.” 

“She is,” He agrees, “I’m glad she’s finally gettin’ the chance to be a kid for a while.”

He’s finishing up with the last few bits of wood for the table, “You wanna stay for a slice of pie?” You ask, “It shouldn’t be long coming out of the oven.” 

“If it’s anythin’ like the last one then I don’t think I can say no,” He smirks, “Let me finish up here and I’ll come in.” 

“Oh no, stay out here, we need to make sure your handiwork is sturdy enough.” You give him a little wink just to play with him, before wondering whether that was too much. He doesn’t suggest it was, just beams his lovely smile at you. 

You turn on your heel and head back into the kitchen. You kneel in front of the oven, and you can see through the door that the fruit is bubbling through the lattice top and the pastry itself is looking lovely and golden. 

“Hey, Ellie, you wanna take your pie out of the oven?” You ask, she’s folding the corner of the page she’s reading and is by your side in record time. 

You hand her the oven gloves, another souvenir from whoever lived here before, it’s white, or would have been before they’d been used to death and had a pretty floral pattern on it. Not what you’d have chosen if you’d been filling your new home, but you always tried to remind yourself that beggars couldn’t be choosers in this world. 

“Careful when you open the door, it’ll be really hot.” Ellie shoots you a playful look that tells you she isn’t that dumb. 

She pulls open the door and steps back to let the steam flow out before she’s wrapping the oven gloves around the pie and putting on the stove top to cool, “As the expert,” You speak, “I have to say that looks and smells fantastic.” 

You peer out of the window; Joel is just shutting his toolbox and you watch him takes his hands a brush the tabletop of any dust and debris left over from him building it. He then takes the chairs he’d made and sets them around the table. You turn your head when he starts moving to come inside. 

“Kiddo, that looks great,” He praises Ellie, looking over her shoulder at her creation, “Let me wash my hands and we can dig in.” 

You busy yourself with grabbing some plates and forks, handing them to Ellie to take outside, whilst you take the oven gloves and take the pie outside, setting it down on the table. You stand back and look at what Joel’s made. In the old world, this would have cost you a pretty penny and you can’t help but realise how talented he is. There’s nothing to suggest that you hadn’t been down to the best furniture store and paid thousands of dollars for it. 

“I brought a knife.” Comes Joel’s voice from behind you, he’s brandishing your biggest kitchen knife and you think that in any other circumstance you’d be threatened by him, but there’s something about the goofy grin on his face that you know means that he would never hurt you. 

He gives the knife to Ellie and sits down in one of the chairs, you follow suit, taking time to warn her to be careful if she needs to touch the pie tin because it’s likely to still be hot. You catch Joel smiling at you and you know it’s because he’s her dad – whether by blood or not, you can tell that he cares deeply for her and he’s thankful, in some small way that you are too. 

Ellie cuts into the pie and struggles to get it out of the tin, the pastry below breaks and the fruit spills onto the plate that she only just manages to catch the slice on. 

“I’ll take that one,” You smile, holding out your hand for the plate, “Got to break it to eat it, right?” You echo your words from inside the kitchen earlier on. 

Once everyone has a slice on their plate and has left it to cool for long enough, you’re all digging in and you have to admit it’s just as good as the one you made yourself. 

“Maybe I should sign you up for kitchen duty,” Joel jokes as he spears another bite with his fork, “You can start earning your keep, kiddo.” 

Ellie looks disgusted at the very notion of being put to work and you all laugh together. It’s in this moment that you think to Mark. Would this have been your life if you’d been blessed with children? When you’d arrived in Jackson it had been a serious conversation. You were safe. People had been having children for months. They had a real midwife for God’s sake. The lack of children hadn’t been through lack of trying either. You remember lazy Sunday mornings wrapped up in bed together, hands raking over naked bodies, moans and praises spilled from mouths. You’d just never been blessed. You’d never talked about who might have been the problem, it didn’t matter anyway, if it couldn’t be with Mark then it wasn’t meant to be. 

And perhaps now you’re thankful. If Mark had still died, there would have been someone else to care for during your grief. A constant reminder, in the flesh, of who he was, who he’d been. You hated to think of not being able to look at your own child because they reminded you too much of your dead husband. No. Better to be alone in your grief than add that kind of complication. 

Once the slices were finished on everyone’s plate and you’d packaged two extra slices for Joel and Ellie to take home, you’re standing on your porch. Ellie is already making her way down the street, but Joel is hanging back. 

“I really don’t know how to say thank you,” You admit, “You’ve been a real lifeline since you came here so just… thank you.” 

He smiles at you, secretly wishing he could reach his hands out to touch you. He can’t remember the last time he genuinely wanted to touch someone like he wanted to touch you. He didn’t even think he had that with Tess. Sure, she’d been a comfort and he cared for her, but it had never been love. Just a means to an end, a way to ease each other’s pain for a moment. Then he caught himself. This wasn’t love either. Sure, you’d spent time together and all he really wanted to in any moment he saw you was kiss away the furrow of your brow, but he couldn’t love you. Not yet. 

“I just like helpin’ out,” He offers, quickly looking down the street to find Ellie talking to someone from school, “I like knowing it makes things easier for you, that’s all the thanks I need.” 

“Well, consider Ellie and you guests of honor when I can finally host that dinner on your handiwork.” 

He winks at you, and you think you can feel a slight flush across your cheeks, but you think if it is appearing across your skin, you can pass it off as the hear, “Consider it done, sweet pea, I’ll see you around.” 

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#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #The Last Of Us #The Last Of us HBO #TLOU #TLOU hbo #tlou fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #GOY

[pix3lplays]

Hello! I hope you have good day. Can we have genshin men being left with their small child alone after reader the mother decided to go out to buy milk and never came back? Thank you in advance.

Oh my goshhhh whyyy would you do that to them???? Let’s do it >:) thanks for the prompt btw, it was very interesting to write from this perspective! Changed it up just a little bit-

Cw! Reader is Very neglectful and toxic…abandons family, drinking

-Genshin men: abandoned by reader-

Diluc: You…didn’t come home that evening. Or the next. Or the next. He was so worried, worried SICK about you, so much so that he even turned to Kaeya and the Knights of Favonius to help search for you. I mean…you had a child with him. You wouldn’t just disappear on him like that. Something must’ve happened to you, you must have been kidnapped or hurt or dead or SOMETHING. But no. Eventually Kaeya finds some…evidence about what happened to you. A letter you left behind, explaining how you were through with him, that you were leaving him in search of a better life. A better life? It almost makes him laugh. He knew the life he was providing you would never be good enough, but he really didn’t think you’d abandon him and your child. He burns your letter in his rage, regrets it of course, that WAS his last piece of you, but…he didn’t want to remember you like that. Fine. He’ll raise his baby, with or without you. And should his child ask about their mother, he would just say that she passed away. In a way, that was the truth. You were dead to him.

Kaeya: He turns the entirety of Mondstadt upside down in his frantic search for you. His children needed their mother. He needed you. And he’s an absolute mess in his quest trying to find you. He knows things have been…deteriorating between the two of you, what with him giving more attention to his beloved children than you, but still…you wouldn’t just…leave him for that, right?! When he does finally find you, he turns completely numb. You’ve already found yourself a new man who gives you the attention you were always seeking, the kind of attention he couldn’t provide for you because he’s been so busy trying to be the perfect father to his children- He doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely broken-hearted, he spends entire evenings away from home, from his kids, drinking his problems away. But I think eventually he’d sober up and realize he has to be the one to step up as a father. You’re not coming back. He needs to accept it, accept that deep down you really were too selfish to be called his lover… He’ll take care of his young children, without you. You’re no longer welcome in his life, but he’s not sure he’ll have the strength to turn you away if you ever come back.

Neuvillette: He…really thought he had been treating you well. He had given you everything you needed to be happy…a beautiful home, a devoted husband, the most precious children… So WHY did he have to wake up in your shared bed to find a windflower (flower of abandonment) on your pillow instead of your lovely face?! He doesn’t even know what to think. The flower…you left it for a reason. There was no mistaking what it meant… You really left him. And your children. The rain poured for many days and nights after the incident. He doesn’t talk about it, and people know better than to ask. Anyone could put it together. You’re no longer around. Neuvillette’s inspiration, his DEVOTION…was gone. Neuvillette remains devoted to his children though. They’re only babies…it’s not fair that you should abandon them like this, and he’s not going to follow your example. He’s going to be there for his children, even though your absence makes things so much harder for him, he’ll figure it out. He takes a long leave of absence from the courts, to focus on raising his children.

Baizhu: It was growing hard to listen to Qiqi asking where you were, every single day, while he was trying to balance taking care of a newborn baby on his own as well as running the pharmacy. He’s too…busy…to really dwell on it. That’s what he tries to say anyways. Until one day Qiqi caught him mourning you, putting away old pictures of the two of you, barely able to fight back his tears. He throws himself into his work, focuses on his patients and raising his child and Qiqi, but it hurts. You had said you were just going out to buy some herbs they were short on at the Pharmacy… You had kissed him goodbye, said goodbye to Qiqi, like you always did and then he never saw you again. Of course him and Qiqi scoured the city for you, but they were simply unable to find you. He had to put on a brave face. For Qiqi. For his baby at home. But Changsheng wasn’t afraid to say what he was thinking. She said you were gone, and you weren’t coming back. He shushes her and takes Qiqi’s hand and returns to the pharmacy. But it was true. You were gone. And you wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. So he grins and bears it. Takes care of his little family, minus one…would he welcome you back if you return? He doesn’t know. But a part of him fears he would try to just forgive and forget and try to welcome you back into his life, even though he should know better by now.

#Genshin Impact #genshin impact x reader #Diluc #Diluc x reader #genshin impact Diluc x reader #Kaeya #Kaeya x reader #genshin impact Kaeya x reader #Neuvillette #Neuvillette x reader #genshin impact Neuvillette x reader #Baizhu #Baizhu x reader #genshin impact Baizhu x reader

[emilycollins00]

Hiii I don't know if you would write it (it's okay if you don't) but to change the tone a bit, could you do a list of toxic traits/red flags of the troupes members? I saw it in another fandom and thought it would be interesting! love your stuff btw

Thank you for waiting love!! 💕 That said, hope you are still around aksdjkdn it's been a while.

I wasn’t sure if you meant in a relationship or just in general, so I went with the flow a bit and did whatever felt more suitable for each at the time (hence why some are longer)

Warning: I focused on showing bad traits and exploiting them so my apologies if any fan doesn’t like what I chose, don’t take it too much to heart!

A3! and their toxic traits

Sakuya – Conflict avoidance / Insecure

He definitely struggles to voice what he wants and needs because he’s afraid of upsetting people or his patner, which leads to Sakuya never deciding anything.

Afraid of rejection, instead of addressing conflicts or expressing his feelings openly, he tends to retreat into silence, limiting himself to smile, and definitely avoids discussing certain topics.

Of course, when there’s a fight he never wants to argue. Not to say he’ll just apologize, but he will try to find a solution (even if it doesn’t make much sense) to pretend it’s all good and everyone is content when in reality, it’s not.

Itaru – Childish / Half-assed

Has a tendency to talk about people behind their back when they do something that upsets him, instead of talking it out.

Sometimes going out with him feels like babysitting. He tends to complain if he’s in a place he didn’t want to be. It’s his day off and you two already saw one another three days ago, couldn’t he just have stayed at home?

Incredibly bad memory when it comes to remembering special occasions but try asking him when is the birthday of his favorite character… or maybe don’t.

Masumi – Overly intense / Tunnel focus

This boy’s downfall are relationships. Masumi has incredibly intense feelings – that’s no surprise, so when he finally falls the beginning is perfect, almost fairytale like.

But then he asks opinions about choosing a wedding venue. Asks about a having kids. When going to the store he even begins to look for baby clothes. First week gone and he’ll want to meet with in-laws. Want to move in together.

He loves so much that it’s overbearing and doesn’t realize how pressuring he is – how fast he’s willing to move everything. Still, what’s there to think? Their partner must want the same thing.

Chikage – Righteous / Emotionally Distant

Being with him, whether it’s in a romantic relationship or friendship, is emotionally draining.

While people pour everything they have into their relationships, Chikage, aside from the people from Mankai, won't even be half as invested. And all the time, patience, and effort that should've come from both parties is off unbalance which ofc turns into an eventual distance.

IF he’s ever confronted about it he sighs, because as expected, it now has become a tiring task for him. People know he’s usually like this. Why getting angry or bothered by his persona? It’s not like he was lying or anything to anyone.

Tsuzuru – Workaholic/ Untrustworthy

I think at first his relationships would be great. Tsuzuru does try to make time for friends/partners/family after all.

But sooner than later, he’s again cramped up with scriptwriting, uni, work... you name it.  People notice the pressure he’s under, so he’s usually proposed to take a break, to go with someone somewhere, but he just doesn’t listen. 

He will be apologetic “I’m so sorry, I have to complete this before the end of... “I forgot we were…” “I’ll make it up to you next time!” and it’s understandable, but he’s always like this.

If anyone insist too much, he might get irritated and snap, and if the person snaps back or leave he does realize how badly he messed up… but half the time, he won’t make a move. He’ll tell himself to talk it later.

Citron – Toxic Positivity / Overthinker

King of no one can be mad if we don’t focus on the issue? A little bit tactless given the situation as well.

And god bless him but while he takes notice if anyone is not feeling well, partner or not, he decides to be absolutely oblivious to their bad moods. If they want to talk about it he doesn’t get it either. Why is everyone upset about it, at least it’s over now!

Doesn’t like taking responsibility for his actions, making excuses to justify his behavior, so he tries to always have others or his partner on his side, just in case.

Tenma – Accusatory / Invasive

Always has something to say, no matter the argument – even if he's clearly the one in the wrong. Instead of working it out rationally, he shifts the blame away and pins it on the other person, guilt-tripping into thinking he's the one compromised.

If others were indeed wrong however, prepare for a non-stop nagging for days to come. If driven by his ego, this will escalate and in eeeevery conflict, this will be brought up.

In a relationship Tenma thinks he has the right to intervene in his partner’s personal affairs, meaning if they have something going on or someone they have a problem with, he’s going to lash out even if he was asked to leave it alone. What-? Why are you mad? You should be thanking him!

Muku – Pessimist / Passive

He want to know everything about everyone and in a relationship, his partner is always free to tell him about their problems… but that’s when troubles begin.

Overly sensitive, and when stresses he’s the type to blame himself in any situation which makes dealing with him kind of exhausting after a while.

That said, despite his kind self, Muku is overly passive in his communication. He often avoids direct confrontation, leading to unresolved issues which given his pessimistic nature as well have him tensed all the time awaiting when his actions might turn against him.

Since it really always his fault, you don’t have to remind him.

Misumi – Uncommunicative / Dismissive

Misumi, as many here, has a tendency to avoid confrontation and suppress his emotions, leading to communication barriers and unresolved issues in any type of relationship.

As it goes, this lack of communication prevents any relationship from progressing and resolving underlying issues, creating a stiff dynamic... at least from other people's view, since Misumi likes to get over things quickly and expects everyone to do the same. A little bit tactless in that sense.

This includes having a hard time taking the blame. He wants it to be on everyone. Even if it’s his fault, the closest anyone’s ever going to get is: Mmm we all said and did things we shouldn’t, right? let’s try to move on!

Kumon – Overwhelming / Unattentive

He doesn’t even know he usually speaks over or interrupts others but definitely knows he has the need to protect their partner.

He’s so deluded into thinking he’s doing a good thing by pulling their partner away from the slightest danger. Sidewalk is too crowded? He’ll insist to walk on the busy road. Too hot today? Maybe it’s better to stay inside. He pulls everyone away every time he thinks they are close to getting hurt. At first it’s nice, but does become suffocating.

And if it's his partner tells him they don’t need his help, he’ll laugh before assisting anyway.

In general relations sometimes he will not stop even if you can’t keep up with him if he’s too excited. He’s just go go go all the time.

Kazunari – Liar / Dependant

On one hand Kazunari knows he can be completely honest with his partner, but he can’t differentiate between being honest in a way that supports a healthy relationship without… sometimes being honest in a way where he says something to hurt their feelings. So yeah, he sometimes lies.

He also involuntarily crosses boundaries (no consent in certain lives, photos uploaded…) and suffocates with constant attention. He struggles with trust issues too, constantly seeking validation from his partner or others to alleviate his insecurities.

This behavior in the end becomes draining if he’s in a relationship, as his partner feels trapped and unable to maintain their independence.

Yuki – Non-existent filter / Accusatory

During intense moments of blinding anger, Yuki jabs out everything he thinks without ever sugarcoating it, and there really isn't much to stop that.

Also maybe because while logical most of the time, he’s a bit short-tempered in certain situations (especially when stressed), so if provoked or at least he feels recriminated, he'll say some really hurtful things, insecurities that people took time to open up to with him.

If something goes wrong and he’s not in the fault he’s quick to complain as well. He already knew what was going to happen, so why did everyone insist on doing it? And why would anyone think he will sympathise afterwards? 

Banri – Expectations / Charge

Wants to be in charge of everything. Prone to micromanaging their partner while stubbornly refusing to ask for help even if it’s obvious,

He has so much going on that if anyone crosses him, romantic relationship or not, Banri will play with the “I will leave if you want”. Because he would leave and he wouldn’t even feel regretful.

Because of his good memory and capacities, he tends to wait for people to catch things quickly. He didn’t bring coffee to class and expects people to know that he drank it on the way because morning rehearsal was rough. He didn’t answer anyone’s text so he expected everyone to know that needs revision – to him, that stuff is easy. What? No one knew? He always does similar details for everyone – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud every time.

Specially his partner. They should know what he’s thinking in these moments. If they don’t, maybe they didn’t love him as much as they said.

Taichi – Jealous / Low self-esteem

This boy lacks confidence in himself and the relationship no matter the type.

Catches himself thinking how everyone is much better than him – and in a relationship he’s scared his partner would leave him for anyone. Makes sense. They are perfect and kind, he’s just... him.

Of course he would want to be with their partner all the time, very clingy and overly emotional when arguing with him or when they tell him off. Might have taken a look or two at his partner's notifications of messages. He felt bad after though, he promises!

Juza – Self-esteem / Walls

Usually clueless about what he’s doing wrong and can’t seem to know how much effort to put into a new relationship, romantic or not. It could be days of not talking with him or him not answering just because he didn’t know if it would feel abrasive.

So yeah, I wouldn’t say he’s blinded by his anxieties and worries but then again, it’s not like he’ll ever talk about it with anyone either.

In a relationship, Juza wouldn’t think they love him enough to stay if he reveals all his insecurities. In his eyes, his partner will leave him one day, he knows it. They are too good for someone like him.

Sakyo –  Rigid / Controlling

Exceedingly strict but only when it’s related to him. Like, he doesn’t pick up the phone during work time because that wouldn’t be professional of him, yet when he’s with others? He continues mentioning work-related stuff or leaves to take calls.

There’s also certain controlling behavior in his romantic relationships. While he may initially come across as caring and devoted, his need for control becomes evident as the relationship progresses, leading to feelings of suffocation and resentment.

When in a fight, Sakyo is rough with his words and has to have the last word no matter what. His anger also lasts for days and the silent treatment is a huge thing. Will act like nothing has happened after that.

Omi -  Low esteem / Unwillingness to commit

This man's steps on eggshells with relationships, romantic or not. Omi is terrified to let anyone in and see their eyes judging.

In a relationship he’s too scared to show how much he loves his partner and honestly that very own cautiousness, that unwillingness to fall, hurts more than he realizes.

Omi is also someone who never expresses complicated feelings, either. He might just need time, but never asks for any.

People are left feeling like they might only be in the relationship because he doesn’t want to hurt their feelings. When asked he hesitates, which hurts the most. He can’t seem to understand he needs to let himself go. This happens again and again because in the end, Omi decides that it’s best to not fall at all – he doesn’t need another scar.

Azami – Extreme / Overly guarded

Azami is prude but as he grows, he becomes not so… accepting.

He scoffs wherever he sees something he doesn’t approve, and if in a relationship their partner wants to hold his hand, he’ll rip it away and lecture them angrily about how it might look to others. You should know by now.

As such, he tends to be emotionally distant and closed-off in all relationships. He struggles and often avoids discussing his feelings or concerns.

This emotional guardedness creates insecurity in the relationships, as many feel like they are unable to connect with him on a deeper level. His reluctance to open up leads to communication misunderstandings as well.

Their partner or friends must not love him, that’s the only reason he can think of – but he won’t show his fear of that possibility.

Tsumugi – Distracted / People pleaser

This young man doesn’t make it on purpose, which is all the way down frustrating.

He will have periods of time where he’s attentive to everyone, and in a relationship his partner is his number one priority.

Others becomes overly focused on his own pursuits, leaving little time or energy for nurturing any type of relationship. When he notices, he becomes again hyper attentive, doing anything for the relationship to not deteriorate.

But since additionally Tsumugi struggles to communicate effectively about his emotions and decisions, this leads to more distance to grow.

Hisoka – Ghosting / Short-tempered

Honestly he doesn’t look into the care and delicacy relationships take. Doesn’t answer messages nor call and if he does it’s quick and short.

He’s sparse with his attention. No, he doesn’t want to go out, partner, friend, or whatever should stop asking. Also it’s becoming annoying. When in a fight, if he finds it’s not important, it will always seem like he doesn’t care about anything.

Hisoka won’t compromise either, he won’t be more attentive, he doesn’t want to be, that’s too much work. And if they try to force it? Then people just don’t get him and probably just want to change him.

People unwllingness to accept and understand who he is only proves to him that this specific relationship whatever people what to call it, wasn’t meant to be, so he shrugs it off.

Azuma – Façade / Bottling emotions

No matter what, he refuses to share information about himself and can’t keep everything equal, whether you are a friend or his partner.

If there’s a feeling like something is off, and anyone mentions it rather than admitting what’s on his mind he’ll simply say that it’s fine, that all is good and perfect, and then proceed to bury it even deeper within him.

Azuma keeps burying his feelings in and trying not to resent whatever is causing him like this more and more until one day something happens and his emotions erupt out of him and he’s crying or worse, leaves for some time.

If anyone wants to know where he’s been, well, good luck trying to figure it out.

Tasuku – Rough / Absent-minded

Prioritizes his own needs and desires above others, resulting in selfish and insensitive behavior. I can’t imagine Tasuku changing his routine to fit someone else in, lover or not.

To him it’s pretty straightforward If someone doesn’t fall into sync with him, that’s life and this relationship just wasn’t meant to be. What? Why should he change the time he goes to the gym – shouldn’t his partner just get up earlier if they want to eat breakfast with him?

Or with his friends, sure he gets along, but why should he alter the way his life is, and try to finish rehearsal earlier? He doesn’t get the reason to change and tends to avoid fighting, not just because of cutting contact, but because he doesn’t want to fight with anyone... he doesn’t have time for whatever it is.

Homare – Overly worried / Opinionated

By now everyone should know that he will not give you much space when there’s a problem. He will constantly be asking questions about it and little time does he tries to listen to all versions or if he even should intervene.

And holy molly does he intervene often enough.

Also Homare doesn't get mad almost never, but becomes incredibly distressed when something goes wrong.

He won't say anything when he's feeling like that though. It's hard for him to control his emotions during a difficult time period and usually needs to be comforted to calm down but becomes so difficult when it’s time to allow people into the real him.

Guy – Distant / Trust

If this man ever has any type of problem, most people, partner included, will never know.

It’s not that he’s actively trying to keep things away, but he has no way of knowing that he should be sharing certain things.

Everyone’s held at arm’s length. His partner might think being his partner would make them close, but it’ll feel like he confides in his troupe more than them.

He doesn’t have a good example of what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like, so don’t expect him to do anything romantic unless anyone tells him so. He also doesn’t have a filter, meaning he’s brutally honest. No one should be surprised if he hurts feelings in his monotonous voice.

_______________________________________________________

Hope you all enjoyed it, definitely interesting to think of them in these terms.

Have a wonderful day! 💕💕

#a3! #a3! sakuya #a3! tsuzuru #a3! omi #a3! banri #a3! azuma #a3! tsumugi #a3! masumi #a3! misumi #a3! citron #a3! itaru #a3! tasuku #a3! hisoka #a3! homare #a3! yuki #a3! chikage #a3! tenma #a3! taichi #a3! guy #a3! muku #a3! azami #a3! kazunari #a3! kumon #a3! juza #Don’t worry bc this was super interesting to think about! In a writing sense ofc.

[fumblingmusings]

Lukewarm Coffee and Plum Rice Pudding

Absolutely pure schmop for USUK. Alfred needs a break. Arthur is making old man dessert. They are both tired and more than a little in love. Very chaste romance below, just stretching writing muscles in the present tense. Enjoy!

Arthur’s house is small. It is small, old, and smells of syrup and plums. When Alfred inquires as to why, England gives him a very funny look, as if the other man is as stupid as Arthur’s frequent insults suggest. He simply states that if Alfred cared to look in the kitchen, he would see the vat bubbling away on the hob. 

America ponders how he is to do such a thing, considering he is still standing on England’s porch. 

He says as much, and Arthur scrunches his nostrils. There is dirt, America notes, on the bridge of said nose. Most likely mud from the garden (for where else would the plums have come from?), the result of Arthur rubbing his skin, perpetually sniffing as if he has a cold. Alfred suspects it is something akin to hay fever and it would go away if Arthur bothered to take something as simple as an antihistamine. He wouldn’t, of course, because Arthur refuses to take anyone’s advice, no matter its practicality. 

Alfred remains under the tiny portico.

“Are you going to let me in? It’s cold.”

“It’s fifteen.”

Alfred nods, as if that number means anything to him. (It does, when he thinks about it for longer than a second. He tries often to not do so).

Still, Arthur steps back, muttering something about making Alfred take off his muddy shoes and leave them at the door. England then disappears down the tight hallway, turning left behind the stairs and returning to his kitchen. The sound of a radio station playing, some odd indie music, seems to be coming from the area.

Alfred follows his nose and ears, and sure enough, a rather large pot is bubbling away, making a sticky sound when Arthur goes to stir. Not burnt. Yet. Arthur lowers the volume of his radio, the announcer declaring it to be one of the multiple BBC channels. There were six?! More?

America drops his weekend bag on the wooden chair sticking out from the round table, then plants himself into the second chair. An excessive amount of crocheted placemats and coasters litter the small surface, and he is unable to help himself from picking one up and inspecting. Perfect, as always.

The silence seems to stretch on. With any other time that Alfred would drop by unannounced, he would be talking Arthur’s ear off. As it is, Arthur notes how utterly melancholic the boy appears to be.

Turning off the heat, Arthur moves the pot to the countertop, pouring the simmering fruit into a large glass bowl. It splatters as he does so, and the contact stings his bare wrists.

His loud, emphatic fuck makes Alfred start, look up from the table and across the cluttered room. Arthur is shaking his arm, as if trying to fling the stinging pain out of his limb.

“Careful,” America says unhelpfully.

The replying glare and bull-like snort are somewhat good-humoured, so Alfred manages a smile.

“Why are you here?” Arthur asks, turning to his sink to cool down the splatter. Alfred watches, quiet.

“Wanted to visit,” Alfred replies. He hears Arthur chuff to himself. 

“Wanna coffee?” England asks instead of acknowledging Alfred’s answer.

“Not instant?”

“No. In the French press. I’ll need to microwave it up though.”

America sucks on his tongue, then nods his assent.

“Sure.”

Arthur fills up one of his floral mugs two thirds of the way, then goes to the fridge. He pauses, the door open and his face hidden from view.

“Warm or cold milk?”

“Cold.”

“Weird boy…” but still, Arthur does as bid, pulling out a carton and throwing the mug in the microwave for just over a minute. He returns to his bowl of plums, then inspects Alfred again.

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long will you stay?”

“Oh. Until I get found out?”

England’s green eyes spark with glee. “You’re being naughty?”

Alfred’s smile grows, hearing the childish naughtiness that always manages to leak through Arthur’s prim and proper exterior. There was nothing Arthur enjoyed more than a good deception, a practical joke, being a general annoyance. Was it any surprise such traits were also found in Alfred?

When Arthur’s face lit up, when that veneer of bored politeness cracked… Alfred was reminded why people actually tolerated (or worse, loved) Arthur. Alfred would only ever whisper it in the dead of night when he was sure Arthur was not listening. Confessing sincerely and earnestly on how much England had never truly been extracted from America.

More than once, Arthur had in fact, not been asleep, and Alfred had become ashamed to even look the man in the eye for the next three days. 

Unabashed openness was a rarity in Arthur too, both in joy, and indeed in love. It was much more his style to simply open his home, offer a drink, and try to be useful. A land of such beautiful words and poets struggles to speak plainly at times, hiding behind inferences, suggestions and looks that Alfred only ever caught in candid photographs or mirror reflections. 

Truly, they were as bad as each other. And yet they understood.

“I needed a break,” Alfred finally confesses.

Arthur waves him over, not commenting on his reasoning. “I’m making rice pudding for the plums. You can help. Make yourself useful.”

America could have kissed Arthur. Not for the gift of rice pudding; Alfred feels it is slop - unpleasant in texture and lacking in any flavour - but for Arthur’s immediate understanding. The time of a nation was valuable, and often they were used as endless free labour. It could be physical (Ivan’s railway construction came to mind), but for people like Alfred and Arthur, it was bureaucracy. An office intern with no voice in policy and yet expected to enact decisions to carry them through.

Arthur learned long ago how to bite back; his own workaholic nature would take care of the punishing hours, no effort required from Downing Street whatsoever. Alfred, the perpetual people pleaser, had experienced varied results. 

Some years are better than others.

Arthur understands and seems very content - proud even - of his ability to be a bulwark for Alfred. More than once, he has slammed the door shut in the face of some silly-looking man in a suit demanding the world’s superpower to get in the black car.

Arthur knows when not to prod. Some things he will not let drop, badgering and arguing until Alfred cracks. Other times, he will do as he is doing in that moment - hearing the unsaid and knowing exactly what needs to be done.

A distraction, a comfort, an indulgence.

“There’s condensed milk in the pull-out cupboard. Two cans.”

The ping of the microwave leads to Arthur bustling around the tiny kitchen. There is a pile of dishes waiting to be washed in the basin and sticky surfaces of spilt sugar and fruit juice. Arthur hums to himself as he works, matching the quiet radio and its dreamlike rhythms.

Alfred places the cans squarely on the counter, then lays his chin on Arthur’s shoulder, right at the junction of his neck. The warm breath that he exhales visibly causes Arthur to shiver.

Not exactly looking back at America, Arthur raises a hand up to run his fingers through the boy’s golden hair.

“Your coffee’ll get cold,” England gently chides.

Alfred hums, only to wrap his arms around Arthur. England’s cool hands (so perfect for baking those cursed scones) hold on to one of Alfred’s own, the other petting him softly. 

“Big baby,” Arthur murmurs right into Alfred’s ear. “Rest up. You’re home now.”

Once, perhaps not too long ago, Alfred would have bitten back an angry and spiteful retort, but now it was not so. Home was an idea, a feeling, many places and many people. His glamorous and large apartment in New York; his ranch in Texas with his wonderful horses; sitting in Montreal with Mattie watching the Canadiens lose to Tampa Bay for the Stanley Cup final (both of them drunk for differing reasons). 

Holding on to Arthur like a buoy in the man’s tired and cluttered kitchen, a lukewarm coffee on a dirty counter, an excessive amount of boiled fruit cooling in a bowl.

Home.

#hetalia #hws england #hws america #usuk #fanfic #op

[webslingingslasher]

please 24, 26 & 30 with a happy ending for our spider boy?

based off this prompt list

everytime I try to write happy it falls short, I only know pain and anguish. thank you friend, i hope you like it.

“It’s true.” 

Your words shake, your hands tremor, you have to remind yourself to breathe, one, two, three times. Peter was telling the truth, not that you would think he was a liar but maybe just confused on this one, lost in space, unaware of the surroundings. 

No, out of his mind. 

Peter was out of his damn mind. 

Sure, he did tell you, and it was unlike you to ignore or disagree or straight up deny his thoughts and opinions. Peter was beautiful, not just physically but in general, in his day to day life. Peter was quite literally the guy who would give you the shirt off his back, he’s done that with his jacket one too many times. Peter brought peace and serenity wherever he went, that's why he was so good at being Spider-Man, even the most shell shocked persons could settle in his eyesight, they didn’t need to know who was under the mask to know they were a good person. 

And you were you, sometimes aggressive or bitter. Sometimes underwhelming and cautious, sometimes hateful and full of spite, sometimes sad and alone, sometimes you were also joyous and calm, and bright, and cherished, and lovely, and beautiful, and just overall a wonderful human being. 

Those were Peter’s words, you don’t believe them for a second. 

 With all those reasons on board, you thought, no, believed, you believed that Peter was wrong. Deadset, terribly offtrack wrong. So wrong not even two lefts could make it right. 

I mean, how could Peter Parker, your best friend, be in love with you? 

“Please, say something.” 

He pleaded with everything in him, he just wanted you to say something back to him. It could be a terrified scream, a giddy squeal, an unsure attitude with a million questions. 

He would even accept a slap to the face, anything but the deafening silence you gave back to him. 

It was unbearable in the room, Peter suddenly felt hot and flushed, he craved the outside air. He watched as the trees shook outside in the wind, he felt slightly outraged, the trees didn’t know what they had.

 Peter didn’t want to say anything else, I mean what else is there to say? He came clean, he leant into his emotions and feelings and poured them all out on the table and just hoped you would cradle them in warm hands and promise they would be safe. But you instead recoiled your hands to your sides and looked disgusted that he would even say such things to you. 

Peter supposes it’s the way it happened, maybe that’s why you felt so torn apart. 

He was dating your friend, was, that’s the keyword. And, yeah, girl code or whatever but you and Peter were closer than you and she were, and you’ve known him longer, and when Peter ended it, not that it even really started, she didn’t seem all that shocked. Like she knew you and Peter were always end game. 

And yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have pushed himself too far and gotten a little too drunk and blurted them out in one go, but how could he hold all that in when you looked like that? Looked at him, like that. Blinking lightly at some guy near the pong table his heart thumped, he always had that voice that begged no one else would see you like he does, no one else would see how you always give more than you could think to take, they wouldn’t see how far you push yourself for your accomplishments, and not for anyone else either, the praise was nice but you did everything with the goal of making your own damn self proud. 

He just couldn’t take it, especially when you grabbed the stranger’s arm. So, he rushed up to you, pulled you by your hand and explained that he needed to talk to you about ‘something super, uberly important. Like, super important.’ 

And he dropped the news, you pulled away, refused to believe it, and instead left the party and the next day, Peter called, then texted, then texted, and texted again, and on the second call you picked up. 

“Wanna grab a coffee?” He paused into the line, he tried to make a joke, “Or a gin and tonic, maybe?” 

You laughed, “Sure, what about?” 

A pause. 

You thought this was Peter trying to meet up to backtrack, because there was no way he actually liked you, or loved you as he swore. It wasn’t possible, instead, he blurted out words he didn’t mean while drunk and was trying to make a point that yes, he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you.

 It was the only plausible action. 

Oppositely, Peter wanted to talk to you about it, because it is real for him. And you blew him off, you never said a word, just backed away shaking your head, he still wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. He expects it’s bad. He just wants to let you know he is a thousand percent serious. 

“You don’t think there’s anything we need to talk about?” Teasing tone, gut punching words. 

“I don’t know, do you think there is?” Ignore, ignore, ignore. 

“Yes, Y/N. I think there is.” Disappointment. 

“Okay, text me. I’ll see you there.” 

And he told you again, therefore, it was true. It had to be. 

He begged you to speak once more, you took several minutes. 

You finally responded, you shook your head solemnly, “No. No you don’t.” 

“I- What?” Did he look offended? He did. 

“You don’t love me like that, you just think you do.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t think you’re in love with me, I think you love me for sure but that’s what friends do.” 

He snorted, “No, trust me. I’m in love with you.” 

“No you don’t. Stop saying that.” 

Now he was getting offended, “Are you trying to mansplain my feelings to me right now? Like, as I am confessing here you’re actively trying to shove the words back in my mouth.” 

“I dunno, Peter. Think about this, think about us. Does it make sense for you to love me?” 

Confusion again, “Bro, what are you on? Think about what? I mean I’m lost here.” 

Fingers pointing back and forth, “This! Us! What’s happening, it doesn’t make sense.” 

Frustration is eating at Peter, “Okay, listen. And actually hear what I am saying, okay? I told you how I feel, pretty explicitly, several times now. If you don’t like me back, or believe it, or if you want to deny it forever that’s on you. But don’t you dare sit here and try to tell me I’m the crazy one.” 

“You are crazy though! Are you not getting that?” You pulled at the roots of your hair, he was about to cause you to have a mental breakdown. 

“How? How am I crazy? Please enlighten me.” Peter threw his back against his chair, how was an admittance of love turned into this? 

“Because I don’t deserve you, Peter!” 

It was said louder than you meant, the coffee shop quieted down for a moment before picking back up to normal. 

Peter looked perplexed, then upset, then point blank looked like he was about to cry. 

A slow head shake, disappointment, betrayal, disagreement. All three? 

“I’m sorry that you found out this way, it was unfair. It was a heavy load dropped on you, and that sucks on my end. But, I love you. I am so unnaturally in love with you I need my brain studied. And you can sit here in your own pretty little head and daydream that I’m too good for you, or I’ll get bored and leave, or I’m faking or unsure in what this is, but it won’t change. Nothing will change, if you don’t love me back that’s fine” A sharp inhale, it didn’t feel fine. 

“But I will spend the rest of my life trying to change that.” 

You bite your cheek, you watch the steam rise and curl from your cup, he was telling the truth. 

You nod slowly, releasing your cheek from your molars, “I’ll take you up on that challenge.” 

“I fell first, but I’m going to make you fall harder.” 

You laugh, “I’d love to see you try.” 

#peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker angst #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm! x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker mcu #tasm!peter parker x reader #my writing

[weshallc]

HAPPY 75th BIRTHDAY NHS

Call the Midwife Special AU FIC

HAPPYBIRTHDAY @ilovemushystuff I know you aren't 75! but I hope you enjoy this. Like the NHS you are so loved, appreciated, valued and vital to this community. But in a much better state than the NHS. ❤💌🎈🎁🎂

Thank you @fourteen-teacups for being the most patient person in the world. It felt like 75years since we started writing this. 🥰@roguesnitch yes you can adopt a donkey.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to TV presenters living or dead are completely coincidental. Absoloutley. 😬

July 5th 2023, Aylward Care Home, Poplar.

“Come on Jack, do you want to have a wee sit in the garden? It's a lovely morning. Let’s fetch your cardi.” 

The tall man is stooped, no longer able to carry his previous imposing six foot stature. Bent by age and years of working his failing muscles and bones are always tired. He turns his head to look at the young fresh faced girl at his side. He likes this one. They are all nice, pleasant, some a little kinder than others. But they are busy, they have mouths to feed, medicines to dispense and bums to wash. This one she seems to have more time than others. Maybe it is because she has the gift of youth. She has time to play with. Jack’s time is running out. Time has started to tease him. Started to play cruel games. Time does not play fair. Time plays by its own rules.

A loud noise alerts Jack and he clings to the girl. She doesn't panic but steadies her friend. For a split second he is back in Derry, but only for a second.

“It’s only the telly Jack. In the day room, don’t worry. Someone’s put the sound up.”

An older woman appears in the corridor, older, but not as old as Jack. He thinks she has a  beautiful smile and a hint of a foreign accent. This one always makes him laugh. He asked her where she was from once and she said Hackney and then she roared with laughter. Jack laughed too; he didn't know why, it just feels good to laugh. But he never asked again.

“Who’s in the day room?”

“I’m not sure, I thought there was just one lady, but it can’t be. You take our Jack the Lad, here, into the garden while I go check it out, Amy.”

Amy. That's her name, sweet Amy. They wear name badges but the writing is too small.

“Thanks Flora.”

Ah yes, Flirty Flora. Now he remembers.

Amy returns to the day room, the telly is still too loud for her own comfort, but bearable. Flora is fiddling with the hearing aids in the ears of the only other occupant. She is being brushed away. Flora doesn't notice or if she does it doesn’t bother her,

“You want to hear, don't you? I’m too big to be a fly, you know. Can’t swat me away so easily.”

Amy smiles and sees what she thinks is a hint of what might be one in the resident resisting Flora’s ministrations.

“Who turned the sound up?” Amy asks as she looks around the otherwise empty room.

“No idea, I don’t think, my lady here, could reach the remote or figure out which button to press. It took me five minutes to guess how to turn it down again."

“Maybe Dangerous Dave is playing pranks again.”

“That’s what I thought but his daughter has taken him out today. It's Wednesday. If you ask me, that TV set is spooked. It’s always doing it.”

Flora completed her challenge of securing and tuning in the hearing aids, She gently takes hold of the arm that was flying into her face and asks if all is now comfortable and clear. She receives a slight nod in response, perceivable only because Flora knows what to look out for.

“Is this the right channel?” asks Amy.

“Yes, It’s 9 o'clock time for Lorraine.”

“I hope it isn’t that footballer’s missus again, right annoying she is.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“What give up this life of luxury for some sweaty millionaire, as if? The residents would miss me. You’d miss me.”

Flora smiles at Amy's protestations and thinks she may have detected another slight nod elsewhere.

A squeaky non descriptive tune pours out of the television and the screen is a vibrant mix of pink and white.

Three people sigh as Lorraine appears before them on screen.

Lorraine, a jolly looking white woman with dark shoulder length hair, who looks to be in her late fifties, fills the screen. She begins to talk to the camera. A Scottish lilt in her voice.

 “Good Morning everyone, how are you today? I hope you are all well. And if you are feeling well this morning, it might be in part to do with the focus of our show. That’s right we moved out of our cosy wee West London studio to venture east into Tower Hamlets.”

It becomes clear Lorraine is standing in front of an old building probably dated back to the late 1800s.

“The reason we find ourselves in Poplar this morning is to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the birth of the National Health Service. And what better way to do that, than in the Patrick Turner Health Hub that has provided primary care predating the formation of the NHS. In all that time it has been the working home of one family.”

The camera now pans out to reveal a Victorian building that has been extended and modernised over the centuries. Some additions are more historically sympathetic than others. Lorraine continues.

“There has been a Turner working here since the end of the Second World War. Including our very own medical expert and friend of the show, Dr Teddy Turner.”

A man of similar age to the presenter pops into view. He is tall, but doesn’t overshadow our host. His hair is dark but the light grey that highlights his unruly tresses may once have been blonde. He is smartly dressed in a dark tailored three piece suit, pink shirt and tie haphazardly adorned in medical equipment such as thermometers, stethoscopes and those things for looking in your eyes and ear.

 “Good Morning, Dr Turner.” 

“Good morning, Lorraine and welcome to Poplar.”

They chat in the tone of two old friends surprised to have bumped into each other at the doctor’s that morning.

“Well, it’s lovely to be here and the staff have made us very welcome. I’m sure the last thing they wanted on a busy Wednesday morning is a TV crew to contend with, but they've been really lovely.” 

“I think like everybody else involved in patient care we are only too glad to have the opportunity to celebrate 75 years of the National Health Service. And share a little bit of our part in that incredible history.”

“Well, shall we do just that very thing? After the break we will be venturing inside the Patrick Turner Health Hub. Where we will be meeting more Turners talking about the last 75 years of working within the NHS. We’ll be looking at some of the most significant changes over that time, with a family that has always been at the cutting edge, if you will please pardon my pun.”

Those who went to brew a cup of YorkshireTea during the intermission miss the NHS75 anniversary retro adverts for Radio Rentals, pink wafers and playtex girdles.

“Welcome back. As you can see we’ve moved into a sort of conference room. Is that right, Dr Teddy?”

“Yes, it's where we hold training days for our staff and the wider district. We also run information sessions for newly diagnosed diabetics, dementia support, mental health, stopping smoking, drug and alcohol advice. And of course women’s health, which here at Patrick Turner’s we specialise in.”

“Well, we are going to come on to that, but I see over here some lovely people. I would like you very much to introduce us to.”

The camera moves towards a group of people sat around a functional table with mugs in front of them of various sizes and designs.

“This is my big sister, Angela. She was a full time GP here for over thirty years and now runs a lot of our education programmes and Well Woman clinics. Her daughter Jools has taken over her mantle and also her office and is currently one of our full time GPs.”

A slim blonde woman who appears to be in her late 50s or early 60s becomes the camera operator's focus. Her hair is tied back from her face, which is thin and angular, but her blue eyes have a gleam and her lips are failing to hide a smirk. She carefully clutches a blue mug and seems to be holding it quite tensely at a deliberate angle. A few letters are revealed between her fingers UK, THE, IES.

“So she’s your niece. We might be able to catch a word with Dr Jools later, but she’s busy seeing patients right now. Is that right, Dr Teddy?”

“Yes, she is my niece. No-one does nepotism quite like the Turners.”

“Moving on.” Lorraine is starting to sound as if she is wondering who is running this show? “And who is this distinguished looking gentleman next to your lovely sister?”

“This gentleman also celebrates his 75th birthday this year. He's actually slightly older than the NHS. This is Sir Timothy Turner, Lorraine. Or as I refer to him Lord Buggerlugs.”

“That seems very unkind, but having a sibling myself it's relatable. I must also apologise to anyone offended by any inappropriate use of language so early in the morning. Regular viewers will know this is to be expected when Dr Teddy is my special guest.”

“I’m seeing a disapproving glance from the lady next to Sir Timothy and the main reason we are here today. Dr Teddy’s, Sir Timothy’s and Dr Angela’s mum is also here. Dr Teddy, please introduce us to this remarkable lady.”

“Lorraine and viewers this is Sister Shelagh Turner, my, sorry, our mum. She came to Poplar in July 1948. It was the inception of the National Health Service. She arrived as a nurse and newly qualified midwife to work on the district with the nuns at Nonnatus House.” 

“I wonder if I could ask Sir Timothy to explain a wee bit of the history of Nonnatus House and its relevance in the East End of London.”

The camera focuses on a tall gentleman looking a good ten years older than his siblings. (They definitely appear to have been a good ten years). He is also dressed as smartly as his younger brother, but minus the novelty tie. Anyone who studied medicine in Edinburgh would recognise this tie’s pattern. He clears his throat and looks directly into the camera.

“Only if you cease referring to me as Sir Timothy. I accepted my knighthood from the late Queen in recognition of my rewarding career as a GP and as an advocate of the NHS and Public Health. I am now retired from medicine. I do continue to campaign for justice for those who through negligence contracted Hepatitis C and the HIV virus as a result of blood transfusions. Compensation has still not been fully distributed and no UK public body has ever admitted responsibility. Therefore, my job is not yet done. So therefore, I’m just Tim.”

“That’s so well said, Sir Tim. And that seems to be a thread that runs through the Turner family. Generation after generation. Your father, the late Dr Patrick Turner who this medical practice is named in memory of, was an early advocate for the families affected by Thalidomide. As you have so rightly reminded us, you have spoken up for all those affected by the 20th century Factor 8 scandal. Your sister, Dr Angela Turner is a voice many will be familiar with on Women’s Hour on Radio 4 sharing her wealth of knowledge on the menopause and postnatal trauma. And of course our own Dr Teddy brought clarity and evidence based truths to our viewers during the recent Covid pandemic.”

For the first time they all look less assured, even Dr Teddy is lost for words. He and Angela both look towards their older brother.

“We’ve all been inspired by our parents. Dad was a great believer in medicine's ability to heal after witnessing the return of the injured as a child in Liverpool from 1914. He was able to compare those times to the wider use of antibiotics which he witnessed as an army medic during WWII. As a GP working through the 60s he saw, thanks to vaccination, the demise of TB and Polio both of which had previously left their scars on our family. The Thalidomide scandal was a heavy blow to recover from, for a GP who only wanted to prevent and ease suffering. Fortunately he  married Shelagh, who loved and believed in him completely." He nods towards the lady sat next to him.

"Through her religious background she understood the way ahead isn’t always clear or certain, She always used to quote St. Julian of Norwich to us as children, ‘He did not say you would not be assailed, you will not be laboured, you will not be disquieted, but he did say you will not be overcome.’ My father was not a religious man, but I believe he drew strength through my mothers steadfast faith in God, and even more so from her faith in him.”

“Thank you Sir...Tim. Well, I think that’s given us all a lot to think about as we go to another wee break.” 

Viewers who want to adopt a donkey are infuriated by adverts for Babysham, tinned spam and a Tiny Tears doll. 

 “Welcome back to Lorraine in Poplar.”    

“So here I am, sitting next to the mother of these fine boys and the gorgeous Dr Angela, Sister Shelagh Turner.”

 “Greetings”

A small woman with steel grey hair pulled into a tidy bun sits between Tim and Angela. She wears a tailored navy jacket with a delicate gold pearl and ruby brooch on the lapel. She holds her mug less furtively than her daughter and viewers can clearly read the words If In Doubt Just Ask Mum.

“From what I’ve been told by your son you qualified as a midwife in 1948.”

 “I did.”

“Dr Teddy, your mother is Scottish!” Lorraine cries in surprise, because obviously she hadn’t introduced herself to her guest before the show. “I can see we are going to get along quite famously. Can you tell me the changes you have seen over the last 75 years?”

“Oh my dear, you may have to cancel one of those shows that follows this one, about relocating abroad or selling something you found in an attic, for me to tell my story.”

Viewers are frantically trying to work out how old Shelagh Turner is as this indomitable lady cooly answers every question. She brings a sense of calm to the temporary studio, in a building she has been familiar with most of her life. If at that moment anyone asked Alexa or Siri to show them the meaning of professional they would instantly produce a picture of Shelagh Turner. 

“My mother died when I was young. I nursed her through her affliction, as I would my father too. I didn’t want to be a greengrocer, like my family before me. All I had ever done since being a small child was nurse. I knew no other life. So after my father died at the end of the war I headed to London. They were crying out for nurses and that is who I am.”

“The greatest change I’ve seen besides the obvious advances in technology, is the reliance on single use plastic. Nothing was disposable in my day, including syringes and enema tubes. Everything had to be autoclaved and reused. But technology has to be the most significant advancement in the day-to-day practice of nursing care. We didn't have machines to do the work for us. If someone was receiving blood or intravenous fluids, through a drip you understand, we had to calculate the drip-rate in our heads or on paper. Then we had to count the drips in the reservoir every 15 minutes to ensure it wasn’t going too fast or too slow. There weren't any machines beeping to alert us to problems.”

Angela, who had been quiet up until this point,just watching the whole shebang with the same amusement of someone not at the top table observing a bridesmaid with a nosebleed, chose this moment to interject.

“I think a lot of current nurses would be happy to get rid of those infernal bleeps.”

“I’m sure you are right, dearest. When I first qualified, the only machinery I was familiar with was the iron lung used to treat Polio patients..."

Below the lens two hands brush against each other.

“I remember it well.....” He says.

“Too true, dearest. It may now be antiquated and look barbaric but we were glad of it during the Christmas of 1958.”

“Did you have Polio as a child, S...Tim?” 

“I did, Lorraine. As Mum said, I ended up in hospital over Christmas when I was ten-years-old. My parents had to cancel their wedding.”

“Oh no! Deary me.”

The presenter appears to be lost for words. This part was obviously not rehearsed. Guest co-presenter Dr Teddy is of no help as he has the countenance of the youngest child, who is always in bother, becoming aware that his big brother is finally going to get it.

“I suppose that wouldn’t be considered very shocking or unusual these days. But just for the sake of propriety, Timothy’s father, Patrick, was a widower. Timothy sadly lost his mother to cancer a couple of years earlier. Another dreadful disease we have made great strides in treating in the last 75 years.”

“You and Dr Turner worked with the Nonnatus nuns, I'm led to believe. They may not be known to our wider audience, but are still very much remembered with affection and gratitude in Poplar, am I right?”

“I hope so, I would like to believe so. The Order of St Raymond Nonnatus trained as nurses and midwives in Euston, arriving in Poplar in 1899. Once the NHS formed, the nuns worked alongside state trained nurses and pupil midwives, most of whom lived in the convent originally based in Leyland Street. They moved to Wick Street in 1959, where they stayed until the late 70s. The Turner practice was always closely linked to Nonnatus. Patrick, my husband, unusually for the time, had a special interest in women’s health. It wasn’t like today, women were just expected ‘to shut up and put up’ as Sister Evangelina used to say. She was a rather bold nun who was always a little ahead of her time and not afraid of telling it like it is, or was.” 

Shelagh pauses for a moment as if she is recalling something she chooses not to share. Angela, sensing her mother’s brief loss in concentration, picks up the thread.

“There were more home births in those days. Mum and Dad ran what we would now call a mother and baby unit, but they were known as maternity homes. We are actually sitting in what was once a four bedded ward. The rest of the rooms were divided up to house our phlebotomy service and provide extra clinic space. One of the labour rooms we still use for minor surgery. Most health centres provide a particular service these days so there isn’t a doubling up of specialities. Patients will know they may be sent to a different centre than their own GPs surgery for let’s say, diabetic advice, heart monitoring, eye checks and podiatry. At Patrick Turner’s Health Hub we have continued my parents’ work. Focusing primarily on women’s health, neonatal care and respiratory conditions, something my parents as ex-smokers were very keen to learn more about and educate their patients.” 

“Sister Shelagh, you were a smoker? I am shocked to hear this.” Lorraine looks horrified, she appears so wholesome.

“Oh, everyone smoked during the war years and into the 60s. It was even thought to be good for you at one time, or so the tobacco companies wanted us to believe.”

Dr Teddy suddenly realises he hasn’t spoken in over ten minutes and is getting paid for this.

“You didn’t smoke when you were a nun though, did you Mum? I blame Dad, he was a bad influence. Tim told me he remembers him smoking in clinic." Before his mother's glare alone ruins his blossoming media career, Lorraine interupts.

“A nun!? You were one of the sisters, Shelagh?”

“Yes, I was, when I first arrived at Nonnatus in 1948, but not when I left in 1958. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Lorraine is looking at all Shelagh's children seated around her. “Your children are giving all your secrets away today, Shelagh. I think Dr Teddy might end up on the naughty step when he gets home.”

“It was a long time ago and I learned everything I know working with the Order, especially from my dearest friend, Sister Julienne. But the last sixty years have been the happiest and most fulfilling of my life. And the majority of  them have been spent working within and for the NHS. And that’s why I’m here with you today.”

“Nice deflection back to our main topic today, Shelagh. Are you after my job? The producer in my ear has just asked me to not let you leave before I book you in for another show... on your own without your lovely family. Oh! I see.. before the Daily Mail gets to you first for your story, he‘s added. Don’t think that will be happening anytime soon, looking at the expression on Shelagh’s face.”

“We are off for another break now, viewers.”

Viewers wanting to take out an over 55s life insurance policy securing themselves a free pen are now on the phone to the TV regulator Ofcom in protest to advertisements for Brylcreem, old Spice and the Dandy and Beano.

“Welcome back. So, we are going to end today’s NHS75 special with a lovely gift for the Turner family. It’s the least we can do after all this family has done for us over the last 75 years. This is a complete surprise for the Turners. Not all of the Turner children are here today. Tim, Anglela and Teddy’s sister, May, is also in the family firm. She chose to follow in her mother’s footsteps. No! She is not a nun. But the Chief Nursing Officer in a hospital based in Hong Kong. When did you last see May, Shelagh?”

“Oh, it was before Covid, she was due to come home Christmas 2020 and couldn’t and she's been so busy she hasn’t been able to reschedule. She’s so dedicated.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Tim and Ted say in unison.

“I don’t like flying now at my age. Angela went out there last year, didn’t you, dear? They’ve always been very close.”

“Look up at the big screen on the wall, Shelagh.You won’t see a video about vaccination or what to do if you are having a stroke. But, who is this?”

The numbers for the surgery disappear from the screen and are replaced by the bright smile of a Chinese woman wearing a white silk blouse, giggling and shouting “now” repeatedly.

“Hello Mum, Hello Fam! How are you all? And how is dear old Poplar?”

The East London room is full of forcefully expired air and cries of “May”.

“I'm going to leave you all to chat privately, in a moment. But can I just ask, May? You grew up in Poplar, do you have good memories?”

“Oh, yes. I came from Hong Kong in 1963 and couldn’t speak a word of English. Patrick and Shelagh fostered me and eventually my birth mum gave permission for them to adopt me. Mother Mildred brought me and some other children, who were orphaned or estranged from their parents, to start new lives. But I remember Poplar with so much love; the sisters, Fred, Vi and Reggie who ran the corner shop. Darling Aunt Trixie and Jonty, my friend Colette and her mother, Nancy. Then there was Pastor Robinson. Too many to name.. Nurse Crane and Miss Higgins mustn't forget them. And lots of girls called Alison. I actually thought all English girls were called Alison for a while. I even thought about changing my name to Alison. Everyone was so welcoming and helped me feel right at home. It was just a shame about Teddy really.”

“Oh! That Turner sense of humour. I see it is intact over the miles. Angela is nodding her head in agreement with your remarks about your younger brother. I need to maybe have a few minutes chat with her in the Green Room after the show. You returned to Hong Kong, May, as a nurse. Can you tell us a wee bit about that?”

“Of course. As much as London will always be my home. I wanted to give something back to my place of birth. The reason Mother Mildred brought me to England was because there wasn’t provision for someone in my situation over here in the 1960s. I wanted to return and see what changes had been made and if I could contribute in any way. It also gave me a chance to meet my Chinese mother again and thank her for giving me the opportunities I had because of her sacrifices.”

“Did you get to spend much time with her, May?”

“Yes, I did. She passed away a few years ago. I got a chance to say goodbye and to be with her at the end of her life as she was at the beginning of mine.”

“That’s lovely May. I’m going to let you catch up with your family now. I’m sure your mum has a lot of questions for you to answer. Probably starting with when are you coming home? Thank you, May Turner.”

“And thank you to all my guests on this NHS 75th anniversary special. Thanks to all the Turners: Shelagh, Tim, Angela, May and our own Dr Teddy. I will be back tomorrow with more inane guests to chat with. Won’t be anywhere near as much fun as this, I promise you.”

The camera focuses on Dr Teddy Turner who is rubbing his right forefinger against his thumb.

"We will leave you with the words of the Health Secretary in 1948, Mr Nye Bevan."

"No society can call itself civilised if a sick person is denied medical aid because of lack of means."

As the credits roll the camera moves to on an outside wall. It focuses a well polished brass plaque on which three lines are written.

KENILWORTH ROW MATERNITY HOME AND SURGERY DR. P. TURNER

"Here, here!" Is followed by cheers and clapping.

“Well that was the best episode of Lorraine I've ever skived off to, with a cuppa, in all my working days.”

“Flora, we are not skiving, we are socialising with the residents and attending to their recreational and creative needs.”

“You do have a way with words, our Ames. You applied to tech to do those exams you need, yet? You know the ones to get into Uni to do your nursing.”

“No, I haven’t. Stop nagging me. I’m not good with exams, Flo, you know that.”

“You’re very good with people though, Amy. More than good. And the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“Counts for nothing Flora, you have to be one of those clever buggers to be a nurse these days. I’m happy here with my Grans until Aldi or some other supermarket makes me a better offer I can’t refuse.”

“Well. I’m going to keep nagging. But in the meantime, I Wouldn’t say no to Dr Teddy checking out my auld ticker with his stethoscope, one day.”

“Oh Flora, you are crude. His niece is my doctor. She’s brilliant, she really helped me out with that little problem I had.”

“Well, I could have helped you out with that, Amy. Change your washing powder or tell that man of yours to dip it in Domestos bleach before he comes near you next time.”

“Flora, you're shocking......are you alright, love?”

Amy notices tears streaming down their companion’s face, but her eyes remain bright and clear.

The young carer dabs those tears, “Magic hankie cures all. As my gran used to say.”

“Poor old love, probably brought back memories. Talking about them Nonnatuns,” Flora added. “You alright Sister? I know where there is a nice piece of Victoria Sponge with your name on it. Amy here will put the kettle on.”

“How old do you think she is?”

“Dunno. No one seems to know. No one knows how long she’s been here. Dangerous Dave says she made a deal with God to look after the people of Poplar for all eternity.

“You know Dangerous Dave talks bollocks, right?”

“I’m just saying what I heard. So about Dr Teddy, do you think he's on Tinder?”

“He’s sixty-years-old, Flora. Get a grip.”

As they leave to put the kettle on and cut the cake. The sound coming from the televison set suddenly increases.

#call the midwife #nhs75 #ctm fanfic #turners at 75

[pedrito-friskito]

REBEL SUNS - CHAPTER ONE

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: cassian finds something familiar in the mud, and gets much more than he bargained for.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, *SPOILERS FOR ANDOR*, light-ish to start! descriptions of canon-typical violence, injuries, blood, talk of the rebellion and the empire, luthen is an enigma and cassian is a little bewildered.

a/n: and off we go! god, I am having so much fun writing this story, and I’m honestly so proud of it. I’m probably gonna cross-post this on ao3 as well (who is she), but any and all comments are appreciated, and my askbox is always open 🤍

✨I no longer have a taglist! if you’d like to be notified of future works (and chapter updates!), please follow @friskito-library and turn notifications on!✨

Someone’s following you.

They’re not being subtle about it, that’s what worries you most. 

You don’t recognize the face, mostly shadowed by the hood pulled over their head, obscuring the eyes. There’s a thick scar over the mouth, an unforgiving expression. You see the blaster at their belt, the hands curled into fists. You can outrun them, if you’re smart about it. If you can make it just a few more blocks, there’s a path you can take, one that’ll take you down under the sewer system, spit you out the other side of the city. If you can just get there then—

Something hard smacks against the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

+

He doesn’t have time for this.

People are waiting for him. Luthen is waiting, back on the ship. He had a job to do, and he’s done it. Now, it’s time to go back. To go home. Well, wherever home happens to be for the time being.

But you’re in his way. Not purposely; he nearly tripped right over you in his haste to get back to the landing pad. It’s pouring rain — not uncommon for Arkanis — and it’s left his boots caked in mud, his hair plastered to his skull. It’s cold, enough so that his teeth chatter as he stumbles over your boot, catches himself on the rail before turning back to see what broke his step.

He thinks you’re dead, at first. You’re not moving, face-down in the mud, sprawled on the edge of the path and draped in a soaked coat. He spies the blaster on your hip, the spot of blood on your upturned cheek. Your eye is ringed with a blackening bruise, and Cassian’s eyes travel up before he sees it, half-clutched in your grasp, the gold chain still looped around your wrist, the familiar blue crystal smeared with dirt.

Sky kyber.

Maybe he does have time for this.

It’s odd enough, finding a body dumped at the edge of the path like this. It’s far from the city itself, out of the way and leading to the landing pad tucked behind storage buildings. That’s why Luthen picked it: obscurity. But the spot you’re in, the fact that you’re face-down, bloodied and beaten, it makes his brow crease. Someone must have dumped you; there’s no other tracks in the mud, no other signs of a struggle.

The crystal is warm as he pulls it from your limp grasp. He lets his fingers skirt your wrist, checks for a pulse, holds his breath until he feels it. He jams the kyber in his pocket, stuffing the chain in with it. He’d left it with Vel, after Aldhani. He never expected to see it again. And last they’d been informed, Vel was laying low on Chandrila, so…how did you get your hands on it?

For a moment, he nearly leaves you. He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t owe you anything. You’re carrying stolen property, as far as he’s concerned. Why should he help?

His mother’s voice in the back of his mind has him crouching at your side, rolling you carefully into his grasp, throwing your arm around his neck. 

You’re dead weight, and he grits his teeth as he stands. The rain is coming harder now, and it splatters your face, smearing the blood and dirt. You don’t so much as flinch, and it worries him for a moment; you still have a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean you’ll survive.

Cassian tries to catalogue your injuries as he carries you back. Besides the black eye and the bloody cheek, there’s a mark around your throat, one that looks unmistakably like a hand. Someone choked you, or tried to.

If there’s anything else, he can’t see it. You’re weighed down more by the heavy jacket around your shoulders, zipped to your sternum, a belt across your chest. He should have checked you for weapons, he realizes too late, but huffs quietly, cursing Maarva’s voice in his mind as he continues down the path.

You do what’s right, Cassian. You always have.

The ramp to the Fondor lowers as soon as he’s within sight, and Luthen pokes his head out a moment later. Cassian’s used to him by now, the gruff orders, the demanding demeanour. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. The Rebellion needs men like him, Cassian knows.

But he’s never seen the old man shocked. And as he walks up the ramp, you curled against his chest, that’s exactly what he sees.

“What…?”

“I found her,” Cassian says, pushing past Luthen, stepping onto the ship, “face-down in the mud. She’s injured, I don’t know how bad. Someone must have dumped her.”

The ramp whirs as it lifts again, the doors sliding closed. Luthen is pale, his eyes wide. Cassian lays you out on the passenger’s seats. “So you decided to bring her back here? We don’t…” He trails off, swallows thickly. “We don’t even know who she is. What she is.”

Cassian stares at his companion a long moment. Up until now, he’s never had a reason to doubt Luthen. He took the man for what he was, what he made clear he had set out to be. But looking at him now, the lie is plain on his face.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says simply, narrowing his eyes at the old man. “You know exactly who she is.”

“I—”

If he was going to lie again, the words die on the old man’s tongue as Cassian fishes the stone from his pocket, gripping the chain and letting it dangle, holding it between the two of them. “I found this in her hand. I left this with Vel. After Aldhani, after I took what I was owed. You told me it was important. Vel would not have given this to someone without reason, would she?”

Luthen says nothing, eyes flicking between the blue crystal and your unmoving form.

“Would she?”

The old man sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He won’t look at Cassian, but snags the kyber from him, shoving it in the pocket of his cloak.

“Who is she, Luthen?”

He takes a few steps back, puts some distance between him and Cassian. He leans against the wall of the ship, crossing his arms over his chest. Luthen says your name, the syllables sounding heavy on his tongue. It’s obvious he hasn’t spoken of you in a long time. “She’s a fence. Best one in the Outer Rim. Before Aldhani, the Rebellion was funded only by quiet senators fed up with the Emperor’s power, wealthy families who wanted to do their part. Sure, we have more than enough criminals at our disposal, mercenaries and the like, but most of them barely have enough credits to get themselves by, never mind fund a Rebellion. It wasn’t enough.

“Then I found her. In a market on Tatooine, selling jewelry that had once belonged to Queen Amidala. Legitimate stuff, too, no fakes. She tried to run when I approached her at first, thought I was ISB. Her family was taken, you see, her brothers conscripted to the Imperial Army, their parents killed. She was just trying to make her way across the galaxy, hoping to find a lead on her brothers, trying to make a name for herself on the black markets. Lots of powerful people there, you know. Lots of names, lots of faces, lots of favours owed.”

Cassian just stares at Luthen. “Where did she get the jewels?”

Luthen huffs a laugh. “You know, I never asked.”

“So you hired her.”

“Enlisted, more like it.” He pulls the kyber from his pocket, lets it lay in his palm. “I told her I would help her find her brothers in exchange for her work. I found the items to sell, artifacts, jewels, weapons, what have you. She stole them, sold them, and the money was funnelled back into the Rebellion.”

“Until Aldhani.”

“Before that,” Luthen continues, staring down at the stone. “There was a collector, on Hoth. Had a slew of kyber, signets and the like, bits of the Old World, remnants of the Jedi. Stubborn old fool, but he was willing to negotiate, and she was up for the challenge. I took her there, waited. He’d only give her the Kuati signet, but she took it, paid him for it, started to head back. Until a squad of Troopers showed up, one of the Emperor’s lackeys seeking the same thing we were. She tried to get back, I tried to meet her halfway, but they were everywhere, swarming from all sides. The planet, it’s all ice and snow, steep cliffs and ledges. She caught a blaster bolt in the side, went toppling over the edge. I tried to grab her, but she slipped away.” He pinches the kyber between his fingers, holding it up to the light. “Leaving me with this. I thought she was gone.”

“You didn’t look very hard,” an unfamiliar voice says, and Cassian whips his head in your direction, eyes widening as he sees you move to sit up, gripping your side with gritted teeth. You spit blood onto the floor, wipe at your reddened lips. Your knuckles are bruised, which he hadn’t noticed, and you lean your head back against the wall once you’re upright, eyes narrowing at Luthen. “Tell me you have bacta. Or med-nog.” You wince, adjusting slightly. “Or both.”

“Cassian, get the kit,” Luthen answers, waving a hand in his direction. Cassian does as he’s told, watching from the corner of his eye as he heads for the compartment where the med kit is. Luthen stuffs the kyber back in his pocket and crosses the distance to you, dropping into a crouch in front of you.

“I thought you were gone,” he says to you, and Cassian hears your sharp inhale.

“Well, I wasn’t.” He glances over his shoulder as you wince again, eyes squeezing shut. “I clung to the edge of the fucking cliff for hours, waiting for the Troopers to leave. Couldn’t feel my fingers.”

Cassian balks, turning back to the wall. A memory swims to the surface of his mind; him and Melshi, clinging to the cliffs on Narkina-5, Melshi’s heavy accent barking at him that he couldn’t feel his hands, that he couldn’t climb back up. Tell me they’re leaving.

“You fell.”

“Not very far,” you throw back, and he hears you huff. “Honestly, Luthen, do we really need to dissect this? I’m alive, no thanks to you, but Maker, this hurts.”

“Cassian!” Luthen barks. “The kit!”

Startling, he pulls the entire kit out of the compartment, setting the large box on the floor and sliding it across to Luthen. You’re glaring at Luthen, your eyes fiery.

“The med-nog is in the cockpit,” he tells Cassian, who just nods, trying to shake the memory from his head, rubbing a palm over his cheek before stalking towards the front of the ship. 

As he steps through the door, he hears you: “Who is he?”

Luthen’s response, clearly said with a smile: “A Rebel.”

He snags the flask from where it’s tucked in the side of the pilot’s chair, heading back to you quickly. Luthen’s tending to your injuries, helping you shrug out of your jacket, and Cassian takes it, holding it for a long moment, not quite sure what to do with it. He just watches as Luthen cuts away part of your shirt, baring your injured side. It looks like blaster burn, and he covers it with a bacta patch, giving you a cold pack for your eye, inspecting the shallow cut on your cheek. 

You wince hard when he wraps your middle in bandages, keeping the bacta in place on your side, and Cassian remembers the metal flask in his hand, stepping forward to hand it to you. Your fingers brush as you take it from him, your one visible eye crinkling at the corner. “Thank you.”

He just nods.

You keep staring at him, cold pack held to your blackened eye. “I heard about Aldhani,” you say simply, jutting your chin towards Luthen as he gathers the kit and goes to put it away. “It’s all anyone could talk about a few weeks back. That was you?”

“Sort of,” Cassian says, realizing he’s still holding your jacket. “I should…I’ll clean this for you.” He turns on his heel, heading towards the fresher at the back of the Fondor, and you call after him.

“Wait,” you yelp, leaning forward, wincing when it irks your side. “Shit, this hurts.” You take a swig of the med-nog. “There’s a holo-pad in the pocket,” you say, gesturing towards the jacket, “and my blasters.”

He walks back to you, steps close enough until you can reach into the dripping jacket, pulling out a holo-pad, two more blasters, a pouch of credits, a vibro-blade. Once your belongings are piled beside you, the holo-pad resting in your lap, you lift your gaze to his again, a half-smile on your mouth.

“Thank you, Cassian,” you say, and Cassian stutters, realizing Luthen told you his name before he could decide if he wanted to use a fake or not, “for saving me.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, jutting a thumb over his shoulder, “Luthen, he was the one who—”

“Luthen left me for dead a long time ago,” you say, your face pinching for a moment before it softens again, though the slight wince of pain remains. “Not many men would find someone laying in the mud with kyber crystal and not just leave them there. So, thank you.”

Cassian swallows so hard he can feel his throat bob. His eyes are locked to yours. “You’re welcome.”

“Who was it,” Luthen calls, breaking the strange tension that has formed between you, “that attacked you?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, and Cassian takes it as his cue to go, heading for the fresher again.

It’s easy enough to wipe the mud from the outer layer of your jacket, the fabric waterproof and tough. It’s lined with durasteel in a few places, he realizes, chest plates and curves around where your ribs would be. Once he’s done with your jacket, he tends to himself, cleans the mud from his boots and his own jacket, shakes the rainwater from his hair. He can still hear you and Luthen, the thin door to the fresher doing little to muffle your voices.

“Was it someone you’ve stolen from?” Luthen asks you. “Someone you’ve sold to?”

“I told you, I don’t know.” You’re exasperated, clearly. “It’s wasn’t anyone I recognized, and you know me, Luthen. I know every face I’ve ever worked, sold or stolen.”

“So it was a hired hand. And they grabbed you in broad daylight?”

Silence. He wonders if you’re glaring at the old man. You seem to have a penchant for it. A heavy breath. “Knocked me out right in the middle of the city. People don’t get involved here. People don’t get involved anywhere, not since P.O.R.D.” Cassian grits his teeth, leaning against the door. “They took me to some warehouse — no, I don’t know where, before you ask. Questioned me for a few hours,” a harsh wince, “beat the shit out of me.”

“Questioned you on what?”

You let out a watery laugh, and the sound is so laced with pain that it fills Cassian’s chest with pity.

“The Rebellion. They wanted to know what I knew.” Another silence. “I didn’t tell them anything, Luthen, so don’t even think about asking.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to read people, old man.”

Cassian has to stifle his laugh. You’re fiery.

“Cassian said the kyber was in your hand.”

“It was,” you confirm. “Once they decided to release me, they said they’d take me back. I put it around my wrist to keep it hidden. I’ve been desperate, Luthen; the plan was to sell it once I got back to the city, but instead, they shot me in the side and knocked me out again, dumped me on the side of the road, and I woke up here.” A huff, almost a laugh. “Imagine my surprise.”

“Vel gave it to you?” Luthen asks. “You saw her?”

“I was on Chandrila for a few weeks,” you reply. “Lots of wealth to spread around there, but I’m sure you know that.”

“Watch it.”

“I want it back.” A pause. “The kyber, Luthen. It’s mine, by rights.”

“What rights?”

“You left me for dead, took off from that fucking planet without so much as confirming if there was a body or not. I nearly got myself killed finding it. It’s mine.”

“It’s worth—”

“I know what it’s worth,” you bite. “Give it back.”

There’s some shuffling, the quiet clink of metal, a low sigh. “I never meant to abandon you on Hoth. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Another pause, the sound of boots on the floor. “Luthen?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you trust him?”

“He can hear you, you know.”

“I’m aware.”

Luthen’s smile has returned, it’s evident in his voice. “As much as I trust you.” The old man gives a little laugh. “You two will probably get along, you know. Two of the more tragic lifetimes I’ve known.”

You laugh in return. “Is that so?”

More silence follows, and then Cassian hears the loud whir of the Fondor’s engine sparking to life. He steps out of the fresher, your mostly cleaned jacket in one hand, pushing his other through his wet hair. You’re sat in the same spot, the ice pack still pressed to your eye, but he catches the flash of gold at your throat, the kyber crystal evidently tucked down the front of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you say quietly when Cassian hands you your jacket, letting it sit on top of the pile of your stuff. The holo-pad is still in your lap, a man’s face illuminating the screen.

“Who is that?” he asks, moving to sit in the seat next to you, reaching for the buckles. You reach for your own, but your face pinches in a wince and Cassian stops to help you, guiding the straps over your arms carefully, avoiding your injuries best he can.

“My brother,” you answer, settling back against the seat as he tightens your straps.

“Luthen said they were taken,” he says, brow pinching as he leans back in his own seat. “Conscripted?”

Biting your lip, you nod, looking down at the holo-pad. “I had three brothers, before. Parents, a home, pets, the whole deal. Now it’s just me and him.” You rest your hand on the screen, tapping a finger against your brother’s outline. “Everyone else is dead.”

“That’s why you joined the Rebellion?”

You nod once, and then, “I have to find him. Somehow.”

“And you think Luthen will help you do that?”

You scoff. “Luthen only does what’s in the best interest of the Rebellion. I know that. But, doing what I do puts me in contact with a lot of…interesting people. And if that’s what I have to do to find my brother, then so be it.” You look at him slowly, lowering the ice pack. “Why did you join?”

“It’s like you said,” he replies, “everyone else is dead. And this? This is the only thing that’s ever made any sense to me.”

“Fighting?”

He nods. “If we don’t fight back, what chance do we have? What hope is there?”

The corner of your mouth quirks, eyes shining. “Rebellions are built on hope.”

NEXT

#rebel suns #my fics #cassian andor #cassian andor fic #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor smut #cassian andor angst #cassian andor fluff #andor fic #andor fanfiction #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #rogue one fic #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one #andor #tw: death #tw: torture

[belamourelysianlimerence]

Hi, just wondering if you could write a oneshot with either jack or barbossa about dancing in the pearl or a headcanon about having a first kiss with them.

SO HILARIOUS YOU ASK!!! I just had a dream about just that thing last night.(But it was too plot holed to turn into a fic) Lemme see what I can do...

I Wish...

[Gen. Neut. Reader X Jack Sparrow [[will rt w/ barbossa fic when finished]]]

The Black Pearl sailed smoothly that night. The water as black as his eyes; gazing at the full moon above. You watched him from the entrance of his quarters. The way he was leaning on the taffrail, shoulders shrugged up to his ears, and hands clasped together. He seemed... elegant.

In another world, another time, he could have been like Will Smith. You thought part of him perhaps wanted to be, but he loved his freedom too much, and hated the EITC too much to stay on land longer than necessary. Besides, then he'd never be the boy you fell in love with. You walked up to him with a smirk on your lips.

"Sparrow."

You noted him before standing beside him, copying his pose.

"What are you doing? Wishing on stars?"

He smirked back. "Perhaps."

You laughed, looking out to the sky. "What is it that you're wishing for?"

"Rum." He smiled. Not even a pause, just like Jack.

"Mmmm... really though..." You looked at him. "What's something you really wish for?"

He hummed thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging. "Not really something I would normally discuss."

"Why?" You tilted your head. "Is it a secret?"

"No." He shook his head before looking to you. "More like... unachievable."

You turned to rest your back on the railing, crossing your arms. "How so?"

He pointed to his own face. "Pirate."

This made you even more curious. "But, aren't you the pirate who strives for the unattainable?" You teased.

He chuckled and leaned back, hands grasping the rail. "I strive for what's probable. But, I know there are things I want that I'll never have."

"Like what?"

"Aeh..." He turned strolled over to a barrel. "Just...things." He picked up the bottle and examined it closely.

"Are they things you're missing from the life you've left behind?" You asked curiously.

He glanced at you. "Yes...but it's not quite as simple as that."

"Nothing is with you..." You walked over to him. "Tell me."

"How can I trust you with such information, hmm?" He raised his brows.

You sang him his own song. "Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?"

He seemed taken aback, he tilted his head up just so, making it seem like he was looking down on you. "Hmm." He put the bottle under his arm and walked back into his cabin.

Oh no, that's not the end. You followed him.

"That's not fair, Jack."

"Life's not fair.." He frowned at you from over his shoulder.

"Jack, you can't do that!" He picked up a cup. "Who says I can't?" a little more irritated that one...

"You once told me, long ago that you'd trust me with this ship, The Pearl!"

"Perhaps I changed me mind.."

"Jack!"

He poured himself some wine and took a long drink before turning to face you. "You."

Your heart stopped. "What?" You blushed. "If you're trying to woo me... I don't think this is how you normally do it."

"Because I'm not." He stated while walking up to you. "And don't look at me like you're so shocked, love. Believe you me, I understand what the world's like. I know that someone like you would never accept someone like me, alright?"

You just stared at him. "What does that mean? What kind of person do you think you are?"

He huffed. "Someone who's always had his heart set on something, someone who never has enough to live for, a man who wants only to take what others have."

"And what do others have that you don't?"

"Happiness!" He practically shouted it.

Your heart thumped. It was something hearing him say out loud that made your breath catch. He had no idea how much those words hit home.

"And what would truly make you happy, Jack?" You were cautious in your questioning.

"...A spouse... I suppose... children...maybe...peace and quiet...no one abandoning me." His tone dropped, and your eyes widened.

"Hey..." You grabbed his arms, and he averted his eyes from yours. "I know you've been through a lot..." Jack attempted to wriggle out of your grasp. "And I know you rarely have anyone to trust... So, I'm gonna be completely honest with you, okay?" "I love you."

He stopped and looked dead in to your eyes.

"I'm in love with you, and I have been for a while. I actually thought all the same things you did, and that's why I've never told you. But Jack, I promise you that in your brightest days, and your darkest nights I will be right here. I am not like them... you know that. In fact... I'm actually more worried about you abandoning me... you love this life too much... too much I think, to give yourself over to anything else, let alone me."

You blinked and everything was different. He leaned in and kissed you, he was gentle with you. You kissed him back, and he brushed his fingers against your cheeks and into your hair.

And though the ship swayed you both went with it, using eachothers weight to your advantage. It was like you were dancing. He sighed with some relief as his body relaxed and his heart slowed down a bit. He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

"I can get quiet jealous, you know..."

He's testing, you thought. "So can I. But I hope you'll come to me if that happens, let me talk with you..."

You had reached your hand down and took his own, with no particular plan you wound up caressing each others hands.

"I can get quite irritated.." He looked at you with a sad smile.

You shrugged. "You're cute when you're mad."

He laughed at that. "I'm not the best of people."

"You're a good man, Jack..."

"Ugh, don't bring Elizabeth into this." He whined, which made you laugh.

"Aww, did she break your heart?" You gently tugged on one of his locks, admiring him.

"No, she reminds me of me self too much."

"Do I remind you of yourself?" You looked up at him.

"No." He smiled, wrapping his arms snug around your waist. "You just became exactly who I needed you to be."

{EPILOGUE}

A few hours later, you sat near the front of the ship working on some rope that had been knotted up. Jack was back at the helm, steering his beloved pearl with his calling card hat just so. The men had started to wake and were one at a time crawling onto the deck like wet rats. But, as the wind gently blew your hair out of your face, and the sun rose just ahead, enveloping you in golden light. Jack only had eyes for you.

"Now, bring me that horizon."

#self ship #f/o community #self ship community #self shipping community #self ship positivity #f/o #f/o post #f/o stuff #f/o tag #self insert community #f/o x reader #captain jack sparrow #jack sparrow #jack sparrow x you #jack sparrow x reader #did i actually write this?!?!?!!😆😁

[arcventi]

Ha hm. This is gonna get heavy I'm going to work through some shit

Jaytim, not necessarily romantic, not sexual Something queerplatonic, I'd say but open to interpretation

TW Death, discussion of Death, Past Major Character death (Jason's), Suicidal thoughts....

I'm actually writing this "live" and I think you can pinpoint the moment I stopped being crushed by existential dread lol

I think I'll throw it up on ao3 too, I'll link it here when I'm done.

"What's it like?"

"Hm?"

Soft autumn light falls through the window and onto the bed where Tim's head is pillowed on Jason's chest.

One of Jason's hands is lazily combing through Tim's hair, the other one is behind his own head.

They've been lying here for a while, ever since Jason came home from working at the library.

He'd found Tim still in bed, staring at the ceiling and wordlessly stripped down to his underwear and slid under the covers next to him. It took a while but eventually Tim moved, settling down on Jason's chest, accepting the comfort but still not talking.

Jason would never press him. He's not Tim's therapist, he's his... Well, they've never really defined it. Does it really matter? As long as they're... Anyway.

He keeps playing with Tim's hair even as the younger man is clearly searching for the right words.

"Dying. Being dead. What's it like?"

Jason's hand freezes for a moment and Tim tenses, opening his mouth again, probably to take his question back. But Jason quickly continues his movement and Tim settles again.

Jason is quiet for a long while. Maybe long enough that Tim thinks he's ignoring the question. But eventually he finds the right words.

"Dying and being dead are two very different things," he finally settles on.

"Right before you die your brain pours out an insane amount of chemicals. That's how you get all those stories about near death experiences. People getting high as a kite because the brain is cooking itself in its own juice. And since you are basically just a bunch of-" he waves the hand that had previously been under his head to indicate general brain stuff- "piloting a meat suit... Well. It lasts for a bit. Maybe even longer than actual brain activity can be recorded but I'm not a scientist and I wouldn't know how to prove that.

But it ends, eventually. You're not dying anymore, you're dead."

He falls silent again.

Tim doesn't make a noise.

"As long as we're alive our brains are always doing something. I don't have... I can't speak for NT people, obviously." He can feel Tim's mouth quirk into a tiny smile. "I'm always thinking about something and the only way to stop it is like... Switching to thinking about prime numbers very intensively."

Tim turns his face to hide his grin in Jason's skin. It brings a smile to Jason's own face to see that he's able to help Tim like this.

He sobers up to answer all of Tim's question, though.

"It's. There is just no way for me even now to conceptualise it. I think that's why humans made up heaven, hell and whatever, because the brain just can't grasp the concept of not being anymore. It's not like falling asleep because even when you sleep you work through stuff. You dream and sometimes after waking up you even remember those dreams. Being dead is. It's really the opposite of being. You don't exist anymore, but there's no you left to know that. It's. There is absolutely no way to accurately describe it. The only way I can define it is through my waking up. One moment I was dying, the next I was alive. There was no in between those moments, because I wasn't. It's not peaceful, it's not a well deserved rest after whatever shit life throws at you, no matter how much you deserve it. It's scary and overwhelming and absolutely indescribable due to the absence of anything to describe."

He falls silent, hand now just resting on Tim's hair. He can feel tears falling from Tim's face onto his chest, sees Tim swallow heavily.

"Okay," he finally says. "Okay."

They keep lying there, together, the sun is slowly setting, and maybe things really will be okay.

#batfam #batman #jason todd #tim drake #dc comics #red hood #red robin #jaytim #vent fic #i guess #dark themes

[yoomiwritingstuff]

“the reason why i can totally read your moves is because we're soulmates, katsuki. i'm your soulmate.”

his soulmate. as if bakugo katsuki would ever believe in something like that.

he knows that realistically speaking, there'd be no way you would ever really know everything that was happening to him and vice versa. if you did, you wouldn't be so surprised every time he'd barge on your dorms to look for you as his face and body are littered with small injuries and scrapes, asking for you to come and fix it for him.

he'd listen attentively to you chide him about the wounds, as if it shocks you to know that a man like him could still get harmed while in combat — it's ridiculous really. how can someone get out of a physical fight unscathed? that's actually quite difficult to accomplish, even he knows that much. yet hearing you have this incredible faith in his abilities in the battlefield makes katsuki want to win in a way he wouldn't need to lift a single finger, just so that he could see you smile and be proud of him instead of those furrowed eyebrows and a frown on your face the moment you see him when he visits you.

still, he couldn't do that.

he has to go above and beyond his limits to defeat everyone and to prove that he's got what it takes to be the number one hero. however, katsuki would make sure that your unparalleled confidence in him serves as his motivation to surpass everyone else and to plus ultra the crap out of any villain he sees.

when he's supposed to be studying or training hard, katsuki finds himself getting distracted with thoughts of you and he'd laugh dumbly at the realization.

you're such a pain in the ass. truly, you are. he can't escape you no matter what he does, where he is, even if it's day or night. you just won't go away. it's seriously irritating him.

he himself is to blame for this problem in all honesty. he shouldn't have agreed to your insistent pleas to work on his costume and equipments. if he hadn't, he would've been free from your irresistible charms and focused on just being the greatest.

he told himself he'd have no need to interact with extras like you (a girl with non-flashy quirk from the support department no less) when he's too busy with far more important things. he has to curse your intellect and skills for unexpectedly convincing him to listen and agree with what you wanted.

it didn't even last a whole month before he's genuinely enjoying your company and pursuing to be with you longer than what was arranged just to do some casual talk. that casual talk eventually turned to awkward dates and soon enough, you and him started going out when you shyly admitted that yes, you like him a lot which is why you volunteered to improve his gears.

it's ironic for him and a little embarassing. to know that you fell first but he fell harder.

it's fair to say that you are katsuki's weakness. his sanctuary. his rest. his home.

you're the first thing that pops up in his mind when he wakes up. you're the last thing he thinks of when he goes to sleep. he constantly checks up on your progress (not wanting to be the only one moving forward), and is willing to help you even if you don't need it. he also begins to work on his personality issues because he didn't want you to think badly of him. he wants to be seen as someone worthy to be with you.

back then, bakugo katsuki had always put himself first. he was selfish and cruel to everyone and never valued the relationships he had with people. but now that you're in his life, katsuki is sure that you're his top priority more than anything. he's eager to protect what the two of you have. he's learned to treasure the connections he has with others and grow.

he could write a whole damn book about how much you mean to him, how much he appreciates you, and how much you make him someone so incredibly better, if he just had the time. he'd gladly pour out what he's really feeling if it will make you happy.

katsuki didn't think it was possible for him to long for someone so much to the point that it hurt especially when it hasn't even been long since you two have met. how could you ever just be friends when you put his emotions all over the place? maybe that's just how it is when two people are simply meant to be with each other.

katsuki had been lost within the darkness but he found you. his warm and bright light.

“stop saying you love me more than i love you katsuki, that's not fair! you're such a stubborn prick sometimes.”

he's adamant that you know he'd literally die for you. he'll rescue you from any danger. he'll swoop you off of your feet and wrap you up in his arms, never letting you go until you're safe because that's what being a hero is for. katsuki will gladly be your hero. he finally learned how to love because of you. so it just makes complete sense his love for you should be tenfold than your love for him.

“soulmates would always know what each other is going through. they think and feel the same thing. which is why i know for a fact that you love me in the same way that i love you. just accept that, dummy.”

he badly wants to believe you two are soulmates. he sincerely does, from the bottom of his heart. but if that meant you'd have to experience the excruciating pain he was in at the moment, he hopes you'd forgive him for disagreeing wholeheartedly.

“call me if there's any trouble, i'll go wherever you are and help you in any way that i can. i'm serious katsuki, don't laugh at me. i'll practice hard with hand to hand combat.”

he wonders what you're doing right now. you said you were going somewhere in a rural area with your family to take a short break from school. you must be strolling around the neighborhood, taking in the place and enjoying your time. katsuki is sure you'll be able to come up with new ideas and get creative now that you're having your breath of fresh air and relaxation.

he imagines your taking tons of pictures on your phone just as you promised. excited to show him and talk his ears off about the trip you took. that big endearing smile plastered on your face as you cuddle with him on the bed, commanding all of his attention on you.

“please don't stupidly risk your life and just retreat if you're in danger. i'm pretty sure winning won't be fun if you're badly injured. can you do that for me, katsuki?”

he feels so numb. he can't see clearly nor even feel anything anymore. he's sure he's been coughing up a lot more blood than what was considered okay. he's gritting his teeth trying not to faint from the unbearable ache of his wounds. he wants to scream but he can't find his voice. he's desperate to win.

“what if i put some kind of chip that scans your health conditions? that way if you're in a critical state it'll alert me. that's not creepy. i'm just worried about your ass. you do tend to do things on your own. fine fine, i won't.”

deep down, bakugo katsuki is scared.

he feels as if this is the last time he'll ever see everything. he's afraid the second he closes his eyes he won't be able to open them again. he starts to tremble from just the mere thought of that. there's still so many things he wants to achieve. he wants to spend many more days with you. tell you how much he loves you. katsuki wants to say thank you and sorry to everyone who had to stay by his side even though he was an asshole.

he wants his parents to know that he's thankful they raised him despite everything. he wants to tell midoriya that he was a good friend. katsuki doubts he'll be able to keep up with his childhood friend this time around. he wants to say to kirishima and the others that he cherishes their friendship. if he had more courage, he'll bow in front of his classmates to tell them it was a good year to be with everyone and he's happy that he's part of the class.

he's glad he's done what he can to stop the villains. he's damn proud of himself for being able to take them head on. he hopes that the other heroes are okay. he's not a quitter no matter the odds are so he decides to might as well pull an all out attack on them to finish things off. make them doubt their stance.

“you're always complaining about being with me, well newsflash — you're stuck with me forever. as if i'll ever let you go, katsuki. let's stay together for a long time, okay?”

now in his ua uniform, bakugo katsuki registers the white space that he's in. he looks up to see what appears to be all might in a form of hazy smoke. staring down at his occupied hand, he chuckles and grins at his all might card. he really wanted to get his hero's autograph so bad. he regrets he couldn't ask of that due to his rude nature.

“see you later, katsuki! i'll bring you many souvenirs! i know you'll do great while i'm gone! plus ultra! i love you!”

katsuki wishes you won't ever be sad. he doesn't want to see you cry. he's satisfied that you're not soulmates. that way you wouldn't know until later on what had gone down. you wouldn't have to share his burdens. you wouldn't have to feel his pain. you wouldn't have to fix his wounds anymore. you wouldn't have to get scared.

you're not his soulmate. katsuki is content to know you'll be able to open up your heart to someone else someday because you're not bound to him. it sucks he won't be able to keep his promises to you. he wishes for you to be surrounded by kind and loving people. no more falling for bad boys like him.

“have fun out there, idiot. you don't have to bring back anything, just come home safe to me. i love you too.”

you might not be his soulmate. but katsuki knew you were his everything. and he could live with that.

with one final intake of breath, he smiles and thinks of you — his love.

#horikoshi what was that new update #bnha scenarios #boku no hero x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero imagines #katsuki bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bnha angst

[muldxr]

2022 writing review 🤍

another year has come and gone! i was tagged by @neondiamond @beardyboyzx @wabadabadaba @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 18

2. Word count posted for the year: ~56k

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction

4. Pairings: Harry/Louis, with a dash of Zayn/Liam in my new fic

5. Story with the most: Kudos: greased lightnin’ [155] Bookmarks: Hill Country [54] Comment threads: Hill Country [17]

the rest is under the cut!

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): Hill Country was a creative experience from start to end. I mentioned this one a lot this year, but there's nothing major I would change about it. I will always, genuinely, enjoy re-reading it and I thank everyone who gives it a chance

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): it was a really hard year so i don't want to be negative about any of my works <3 they all have their strengths

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: I appreciate @lululawrence for kindly reccing dark blue on her June podcast episode here! I was in awe because it is a fic that i didn't think anyone would enjoy - and she COMPARED IT to other iconic crackfics, and it's just a big honor to have this underrated gem on that list.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: lately my writing motivation has dwindled as the daylight disappeared, and i didn't have a very fun time writing in aug-oct but i'm prepared to do better in 2023

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: does Figs count? i loved the creativity that came with this style of poem and the 'scene' it sets up. i have been testing my limits with writing shorter but more impactful works this year

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: this is from after hours and i can't resist a scene where all hope is lost

“Harry, please, leave it.”

“I’ve been trying to hold onto something, to find something good out of the bad. Why don’t you?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“You said I’ve been too quiet. You said I wasn’t helping you figure it out, but I was. And I can’t be positive about it like you are, because the answer’s fucking obvious.” He makes a sweeping gesture at himself, an absolutely broken flick of the hand. He doesn’t bother to look at Harry. “It’s my fault.”

Then Harry can’t get a word in while Louis passes him, walking into the house. He doesn’t follow, not right away. Sooner or later he’ll have to go up, work through the stubbornly silent treatment to console Louis, and come up with an easier way to separate their guilt from what they have to do. 

That, and because, when the sound of footsteps returns, Harry realizes he has the keys.  

13. How do you hope to grow next year: 1) I want to continue betaing/cheerleading, so hit me up! 2) I hope i can write another 15k+ fic! that would be great because I enjoy the chance to sit with a plot/cast of characters for longer than a few months

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc): people who tagged me in snippet games!! i don't post those very often because it's hard for me to write more than a few sentences at a time and I have a lot of scattered dialogue and incomplete scenes, but i enjoy interacting with everyone

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:  this is a deep-dish-pizza-loving household, thus after hours gave it the attention it deserves. hill country also held a lot of texan essence~ and i'm glad i poured it in there. I-80 was inspired by a roadtrip. see-see was based on 15+ years of movie-going experiences (if i figure out how, i might write a longform deaf au, emphasis on might). i think that's it? i try to be creative and pull inspiration from things, but if it turns too personal it's difficult to not want it to be 100% perfect

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: not to say this applies to everyone - but I have learned in the last 1.5 years of writing fic, it's important to take things in moderation when planning wips and committing to fests. i learned this the hard way, and it made me reevaluate my connection to writing and taking care of myself

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: it's a slow year! I am working on fics for @harryrarepairfest and @omegaharryfest due in March before I take a personal break. Then two more projects finished by November? I'm also open to writing for other fandoms 🫣

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read. @allwaswell16 @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @onlythebravest @tommokat @beelou @phd-mama @littleroverlouis @starsweredible @thedevilinmybrain and who else wants to share!

#* #another year another review!!! #i think i'm repeating myself but whatever. thank you for reading!