#I am questioning so much if people remain my friend out of sympathy because I’m just pathetic or smth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cegantheayugipi · 2 years

Text

a glitch in the matrix - or crack(heads) in the abyss

A Genshin Crack Fic (Genshin x fem!reader x2)

Note: I have nothing to say, except for a sincere apology those who actually read this.

Lost? Here's the Masterlist.

Summary: This is a product of my insanity... I started a comedy fic, but decided that it wasn't comedic enough so I wrote this. It's a crack-SAGAU double female reader-insert with A/N and B/N instead of Y/N for the names. I know a lot of people hate reading in third person but how the heck else am I gonna write two readers in one story (I'm sorry).

Pairings: Zhongli x A/N, a Childe x hateful!B/N I guess.

About the characters:

A/N is a massive Zhongli simp. Her life revolves around Zhongli. She is pretty much a Genshin addict and has been playing for a couple of years.

B/N is relatively new to Genshin Impact. She's a little... weird. Definitely was a crackhead in a previous life. Totally no hatred for Childe going on. Definitely no hilichurl sympathy going on.

“Thank fuck we got that over with!” B/N exclaimed into the voice call, mashing buttons to aimlessly jump around the snow of dragonspine as Diluc.

“Yeah, dragonspine is always a pain.” A/N responded, her voice crackling across the call thanks to poor internet connection.

“Is your brother streaming something again?” B/N asked, “You sound like a robot.”

“Probably.” A/N shrugged, although nobody could see it through the call. “Where to next?”

A familiar yet deep voice startled both girls as it came from behind them.

“You normally lead the way without asking.”

Both girls blinked at the same time.

Why were they suddenly standing?

And why was it so cold?

And why was Zhongli standing right behind them?

“Oh my god.” A/N gawked as she stared up at the literal man of her dreams.

“Geo Daddy?” B/N murmured, frozen in place.

“Shut up, this is my moment!” A/N exclaimed, racing to hug the tall Archon.

“You two look different than I expected.” Diluc’s voice came from behind B/N. Her mouth dropped open, as she slowly turned around to see the famous redhead.

“Are we-”

“In this world?” Zhongli asked. “It appears so.” He looked down at A/N whose face was buried in his chest, and a light pink dusted his cheeks. “Is this a normal way to greet people in your world?”

His question went unanswered.

“Holy shit.” B/N blurted out. “I’m going to inazuma! Where’s my map?” She felt around her body, not used to these strange clothes she appeared in.

“If we’re going to Inazuma, we’re bringing Zhongli!” A/N responded cheerfully, still hugging her precious geo Archon.

B/N finally found the map, pulling it open. “Aha, Oni abs here I come!” Her eyes scanned across the paper and its lit up teleporters, and she realized that the entire region of Inzauma was dark.

“W-we were co-oping on my world.” B/N murmured.

“Yeah, because you’re still new.” A/N responded, finally turning her head away from Zhongli’s chest. “You’d literally die in my world.”

“We can’t teleport to Inazuma yet.” B/N added, her voice weak.

“We just have to take a boat then.” A/N shrugged, her hands still holding Zhongli’s shirt tight.

“M-my Oni abs.” B/N let go of the map, and it disappeared in a cloud of golden glitter. Her face was blank, evidently devastated by the fact that she couldn’t just teleport to Inazuma. She fell to her knees dramatically, then curled up into a ball on the freezing cold and snowy ground of dragonspine.

“Come on, B/N!” A/N exclaimed, “You’re gonna freeze to death if you stay like that.”

“No.” The stubborn weeb responded. “Just send me back home.”

A/N could see the sheer cold bar increasing on her friend, so she left Zhongli’s side to grab B/N’s arm.

“Come on, let’s get to this lantern over here to warm you up!” A/N urged.

“No.” B/N remained curled up on the ground. “If I die, maybe I’ll go back home.” A/N rolled her eyes and began to drag her friend through the snow towards the lantern, but it was really difficult.

“Hey. Can one of you guys help me?!” A/N shouted, struggling to drag B/N towards the heat source.

“I’ve got her.” Diluc spoke calmly, bending down to hook his arm around her torso and lift her up on his shoulder.

“You should be careful as well, A/N.” Zhongli spoke up, noting her status bar as well.

“Oh hahaha, yeah.” A/N picked up the pace to reach the lantern faster. The three of them warmed up by the lantern, B/N still hanging limp over Diluc’s shoulder.

“So, have you decided where you’ll go next?” Zhongli asked, and A/N sighed.

“I’m not sure.” She responded.

“I just wanna go home.” B/N mumbled.

“How about you come to Liyue harbor?” Zhongli suggested. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“I would absolutely LOVE to!” A/N squealed, grabbing onto Zhongli’s sleeve. “Will you show me around to all the good places?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I have some work to catch up on at the winery.” Diluc spoke. “What should I do about this one?” He gestured to the depressed B/N.

“Oh, there’s no way I’m leaving her alone here.” A/N responded quickly. “She can come with me and my hu- I mean me and Zhongli.”

A/N could hear B/N’s muffled scoff from where her face was buried in Diluc’s back. “Okay, I’ll go with you. Now let me down, fireboy.”

Diluc’s face went pink at B/N’s nickname for him, not that she could notice from where she was hanging off his shoulder. He slowly set her back onto her feet, hesitating for a second in case she decided to just curl up in a ball on the ground again.

“Okay, let’s teleport.” A/N spoke, finding her own map.

“I’m not sure if you can-” Zhongli spoke, his voice falling off as A/N tried touching the teleporter in liyue harbor and nothing happened.

“How do you use these things?” She asked.

“I don’t think they work for you two anymore.” Diluc commented.

“WHAT?!” A/N exclaimed. “So we have to WALK to Liyue harbor?!”

“Actually, there’s a small harbor by the cliffs to the east of Dragonspine.” Zhongli explained. “We can take a boat after we descend the mountain.”

“This can’t be real.” B/N murmured, falling back onto her knees to curl up into a ball.

“Girl, come on!” A/N grabbed B/N’s arm once again, trying to pull her back upright.

“I give up.” B/N added, her tone completely dejected.

“Diluc, Zhongli, help me!” A/N exclaimed.

~~~

The two girls and the Geo Archon were finally on the boat headed for Liyue harbor. Diluc had to carry B/N down the mountainside of Dragonspine, but now that she was sitting on the boat headed for Liyue harbor, she finally began to cheer up.

“Do you think the food is good in this world?” B/N asked.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Of course it’s gonna be good!” A/N responded, rolling her eyes.

The boat trip went faster than expected, only lasting a couple of hours. Before they knew it , the two girls were stepping out onto the docks of Liyue harbor.

“Okay, I’m starving!” B/N exclaimed. “First thing’s first, let’s get some food!”

“We haven’t even gone anywhere yet, and you’re already thinking about food?” A/N questioned in disbelief.

“I know a place we can go.” Zhongli spoke.

“Third round knockout?” A/N and B/N both asked in unison.

“How did you know?” He asked, mildly surprised. B/N and A/N exchanged glances. “Oh…” Zhongli spoke, understanding that you two were quite literally a part of him previously.

The two girls gazed around the beautiful Liyue harbor as Zhongli led them to his favorite restaurant. Well, technically they could have gone on their own, since they had seen the city so many times before.

“It’s so much prettier than through a screen!” A/N exclaimed.

“Oh my god, I want to start a business now.” B/N added.

“Wait, what?” A/N paused, looking at B/N in confusion.

“I feel like I should get rich.” She shrugged. “But I agree. This is way better than looking at my computer screen. Can we actually go inside the buildings now?”

“I recommend keeping your origins a secret.” Zhongli spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “There’s no telling what might happen if the public found out about you.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” A/N responded, smiling up at Zhongli.

The three finally arrived at third round knockout, and Zhongli asked for a table indoors this time. B/N and A/N exchanged excited glances at the chance to eat indoors in a restaurant in Liyue. In Liyue, in Genshin Impact!

Almost as soon as the three of them sat down, a tall ginger sat down in the fourth seat. Both B/N and A/N instantly recognized the man – Childe, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. Otherwise known as water boy, or sometimes referred to as the “menace” by B/N when doing domains.

“Xiansheng, who are these pretty ladies you’ve brought with you?” He gave a dashing smile, undoubtedly in an effort to both flirt and to sweeten up the conversation to find out more information.

B/N and A/N exchanged glances. B/N looked like she was holding something in, and everyone at the table immediately found out what it was as she burst into uncontrollable laughter. A/N was quick to follow, as Childe had a confused and mildly horrified expression on his face.

“Childe.” Zhongli spoke through the roaring laughter. “These are two… companions of mine.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, and A/N immediately stopped laughing to correct Zhongli.

“He means friends! We’re friends! Nothing more than that!” Her cheeks grew red as she waved her hands in front of her.

B/N paused her laughter for just long enough to cut in with a “not yet,” raising her eyebrows at A/N suggestively. They both immediately continued laughing even harder.

“I can’t with you!” A/N exclaimed.

“You never can!” B/N shouted back.

It took a while for the table to calm down, and Childe finally began to get the conversation he was aiming for once the waiter came by and Zhongli ordered the food for everyone.

“So, what brings you two here?” Childe asked.

“Apparently, issues with my compu-” B/N paused, realizing she had messed up. “My competition.” She coughed. “I’m a competitive eater. But I haven’t been doing well.”

“Oh, a tiny thing like you, being a competitive eater?” Childe smirked.

“Watch it, water boy. She can eat.” A/N was quick to back B/N up.

“Water boy?” Childe raised his eyebrows. B/N gave A/N a glare for mentioning his vision when they were meant to know nothing about him yet.

“Yeah, you make it kinda obvious you carry a hydro vision.”

“Oh, how observant of you.” He gave a fake smile, as gears began to turn inside his head. “Do you two have visions, perhaps?”

“Hah!” B/N chortled. “Bold of you to assume we have visions.”

A/N leaned over to whisper in B/N’s ear. “Do we have visions?”

“I think we’d know if we did.” B/N whispered back.

The stress Zhongli was experiencing was getting worse and worse as the conversation continued. Thankfully, however, the waiter appeared with the food. Zhongli had also ordered wine, and a second server came to pour glasses for everyone.

Zhongli took one sip of the wine, and began to say his classic line.

“Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remembe-”

“But where are those who share the memory?” A/N and B/N responded in unison.

“I-” Zhongli didn’t know what to say.

“You say that a lot.” A/N explained.

“Yeah. Don’t you have more stuff to say?” B/N added.

Childe didn’t utter a single word, only took a long sip from his glass of wine. Zhongli followed, taking another large sip.

“Um, we’re both a bit of a lightweight.” A/N spoke. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to…” She trailed off, watching B/N take a long sip from her glass as well.

“Damn, that wine is pretty good after all.” B/N shrugged, taking a second sip.

“Be careful, girl!” A/N responded, laughing. “You don’t want to end up in a gutter tonight.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” Childe responded.

“That would be even worse.” A/N’s smile disappeared as she spoke those words with a completely straight face.

A/N took a sip from the wine, but it definitely went straight to her head. She leaned backwards a little, and almost fell off of the stool. Zhongli’s arm was around her in an instant, making sure that she wouldn’t fall.

“T-thank you.” A/N murmured, looking up at Zhongli who looked down at her with a caring gaze. A/N’s heart pounded in her chest, and she didn’t know if it was from Zhongli’s arm around her or if it was from the alcohol. At the same time, B/N couldn’t tell if A/N was blushing from the wine or from her interaction with Zhongli.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked.

“Yeah, I’m just not very good with alcohol. I prefer Osmanthus tea, actually.” She responded.

“I’ll have the waiter bring some for you, then.” Zhongli responded quickly.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that…” A/N responded, looking down.

“Girl, you and alcohol really don’t mix.” B/N responded. “You should have the tea instead.”

“I could say the same about you.” A/N retorted, “Your face is bright red.”

“Hey. If you insult my natural complexion one more time,” B/N began jokingly, and A/N began to laugh. Zhongli smiled at the two of you having fun. There was a strange feeling that filled his chest, like he was finally seeing something that he was missing from his life.

The four continued to eat and drink into the late hours of the evening. Eventually, however, everyone began to get tired and agreed to go home for the night.

“Where are you two staying? I can walk you back.” Childe spoke once he was finished paying for the dinner.

“Bold of you to assume I have a place to stay.” B/N instantly retorted, evidently drunk.

“Y-yeah, we only arrived at Liyue harbor today.” A/N was quick to cut in. It was the truth, technically.

“You are always welcome at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” Zhongli offered politely. “After all, Childe is staying with us there at the moment.”

“Wait, you guys sleep in a MORGUE?!?” B/N exclaimed.

“NO!” A/N shouted back. “It’s a funeral parlor, where they plan funerals!”

“A/N is correct, we only arrange funeral rites.” Zhongli added.

“So no dead bodies?” B/N asked.

“No, I definitely wouldn’t be staying there if they dealt with dead people.” Childe spoke jovially, his face also a little red from the wine.

“Can we stay with you tonight?” A/N asked as she grabbed onto Zhongli’s sleeve.

“Of course you may.” Zhongli responded as he gave her a gentle smile. A/N looked into his eyes and felt like she could faint. How was she still going so crazy for this man?

The four arrived at Wangsheng funeral parlor after a brief walk. The doors were shut, and the lights inside were off, since it was well past business hours. Zhongli opened the door and allowed everyone inside.

“What have you been up to, old man?” A/N and B/N instantly recognized Hu Tao’s voice.

“Ah!” Childe exclaimed, jumping. The lights went on, and everyone turned around to see Hu Tao standing by the door, her hand on top of the light switch.

“Hu Tao, it’s past your bedtime.” Zhongli spoke, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ve been out all day, and with these two strange ladies. Even Ginger came around looking for you and couldn’t find you anywhere!” Hu Tao gave Childe a menacing glare, and he gave a weak and awkward laugh in response.

“You’re even cuter in real life!” B/N squealed, reaching out to pinch Hu Tao’s cheeks.

“Um, yeah, she’s cuter in person, because Zhongli told us about his boss,” A/N began to ramble. “And he talked about what she looked like, so we’re only seeing what she really looks like now, and that’s why B/N is saying she looks even cuter now that she’s seeing Hu Tao-”

A/N was cut off by Zhongli who placed a hand on her shoulder.

“How about we all head to sleep?” He spoke calmly in his deep voice. “It is quite late, after all.”

“Yeah. I’m really tired.” B/N yawned.

“Did you think this through, old man?” Hu Tao cut in. “We only have one spare bedroom, which Childe is using.”

“I assumed I would sleep on the couch.” Zhongli spoke as he began to lead everyone upstairs.

“N-no, I wouldn’t make you do that!” A/N cut in.

“You are guests,” Zhongli added. “You should be taken care of.” Zhongli gave a glance at Childe, as if the harbinger should be saying something to support his statement. The guest bedroom was the same size as Zhongli’s, after all, and Childe had been staying at the parlor for so long that he might as well be a permanent resident.

Something finally clicked in Childe’s head, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Oh,” He spoke. “I would gladly share a bed with one of you fine ladies.”

“No thanks.” B/N and A/N spoke in unison. Zhongli laughed.

“Okay guys I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother me until morning.” Hu Tao spoke as she walked down the hall to her own room.

Zhongli got to his room, and opened the door. A/N and B/N exchanged glances, as if they were communicating psychically. Something was decided between the two, because B/N turned around and walked towards Childe.

“Actually, I’ll take you up on that offer.” B/N spoke boldly.

“Oh, really?” Childe smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” B/N nodded. “But you take the couch.”

Childe laughed awkwardly, as A/N began to speak up.

“Uh… um… Zhongli,” She looked down at the floor, nervous. “Would you like to share the bed with me tonight? Together?”

“Are you sure?” Zhongli asked. “I wouldn’t want to put you in an inappropriate position.”

“Yes, yes I’m very sure!” A/N added.

“Is sharing a bed so soon after meeting a normal custom where you are from?” He asked softly.

“Yes it is, now just agree to it already!” B/N exclaimed as she walked away. A/N felt like she was dying inside thanks to her friend. Childe seemed to notice what Zhongli was asking about, and wondered where the two girls could be from.

As Zhongli opened his bedroom door and let A/N in, Childe led B/N down the hall to the guest bedroom.

The room was plain, apart from a few decorations that gave it a signature Liyue feel. There was a couch by the left wall, and a dresser on the right. A bed was placed against the far wall, with a wooden nightstand stood beside it. The bed looked only large enough for one person, and B/N knew that person was going to be herself.

Childe smiled to himself as he stepped into the guest room. As the ginger Fatui Harbinger led B/N in, he began to underhandedly interrogate her.

“Are there many things that are different where you come from?” Childe asked as he walked towards the dresser. He took off the mask tied to the side of his head and began to unbutton his shirt. B/N didn’t know how her clothes worked since she just appeared in them that morning, and the alcohol was definitely getting to her head so she simply kicked her shoes off and flopped onto her back onto the bed.

“I guess so.” B/N responded.

“Where exactly are you from, anyway?” a shirtless Childe asked, as he turned away from the dresser and began to walk towards the bed.

“Isn’t there a couch right there with your name on it?” B/N pointed to the couch across the room as Childe stood at the edge of the bed.

“But isn’t it normal-”

“Couch, now!” B/N raised her foot and put it on Childe’s bare chest, pushing him back away from the bed.

“Okay, okay.” Childe sighed, turning around and walking back to the bed.

~~~

Meanwhile, in Zhongli’s room, A/N was blushing like crazy. There was zero alcohol in her system at this point, but the mere sight of Zhongli taking the hair clip out of his hair had her entire brain going haywire. He placed it on the ornate vanity, and turned towards A/N who was standing beside his rather large bed.

“Are you sure you are okay with this?” Zhongli asked.

“Yes, please!” A/N yelped, staring up at the tall brunette.

Zhongli nodded, his hands traveling to the buttons of his jacket. A/N simply stared at him as she finally got to see his toned and perfect chest. There was practically drool coming out of her mouth as she took in Zhongli’s bare torso. Any thoughts or feelings about being teleported into another world left her head as her only thoughts became about the gorgeous Geo Archon.

Zhongli turned to look at A/N, and she immediately realized she should be getting ready for bed herself. She began to fumble with the buttons on her complicated cape, but the clothes were confusing and much too complicated.

“Do you need help?” Zhongli asked.

“U-uh…” A/N trailed off, her face bright red as she looked down at her clothing. “I don’t know how my clothes work.”

“What do you mean?” Zhongli asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I just showed up in them today…” A/N explained, “clothes where I’m from are much more simple.”

“Oh, I see.” Zhongli asked, then he paused for a moment. A/N looked up at him, and tilted her head to the side as she tried to figure out what was going on in Zhongli’s head. “May I…” He trailed off, lifting a hand towards the buttons of her overcoat.

“Oh,” A/N began to blush even more. “Y-yes…”

As Zhongli’s fingers worked dexterously and gently, more and more blood began rushing to A/N’s head. Zhongli, the Geo Archon, the man of her dreams, was undressing her.

As Zhongli began to slip the cloak over her shoulders revealing her dress underneath, A/N began to feel dizzy from all the blood rushing to her head.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli caught her shoulders as she swayed.

“Yeah, I think I’m just tired.” A/N spoke.

“You’ve become quite red…” Zhongli noted.

“Y-yeah, that’s normal, all things considered.” A/N explained.

“Perhaps you should lay down,” He responded.

“Yeah.” A/N nodded, moving to sit down on the bed. Everything seemed so unreal as she watched Zhongli sit down beside her. The two of them slowly laid down on the bed next to each other, not touching each other. The two of them stared at the ceiling for a couple of moments, in an awkward silence.

“Uh, can I…” A/N spoke up once again. “Can I use you as a pillow?”

“Of course.” Zhongli spoke, and A/N slowly wrapped her arms around Zhongli and moved her head to rest on his bare chest.

Oh man, was A/N in heaven.

The two settled into a comfortable silence, and were fast asleep.

~~~

Read Part 2 here.

#proof I was a crackhead in a previous life #reader insert #except there's two readers?#so not really reader I guess #writing these tags is giving me a brain hemorrhage #this is rock bottom isn't it?#genshin fanfiction #SAGAU #crack #fanfic #genshin impact #I'm so sorry #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact has taken over my life #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin zhongli

73 notes · View notes

blackwoolncrown · 4 years

Link

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

not

fucking

talk

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

5K notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

#bnha 317 #all might #midoriya izuku #and endeavor and hawks and mt. lady and all the rest of them I guess #literally forgot all about them by the end lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this wound up so long lmao I'm so sorry

368 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Inky Memories

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Drug Use (Past), Domestic Violence (Past), Shoplifting (Past)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Tattoos can reveal a lot about a person. What will Y/N’s tattoos, which she has kept hidden for so long, reveal to Corpse? Will it change anything between them?

Requested by Anon. If you’re reading this you know who you are 😊 Thank you for the request, hope you like what I did with it. Sorry if I made it too angsty! And my most sincere apologies for publishing it so late. Enjoy XOXO ❤

“Guys, come on now! I’m not hiding anything!“ I laugh, looking up from the comments to the camera, “You know how much I hate being embarrassed! Believe me when I say these tattoos are EMBERRASSING. I got them while I was either drunk or in my emo phase and I’m not too proud of them.“

I’m currently doing an Instagram live Q&A session that I scheduled last week. I do one every month and it’s my favorite way of connecting with my audience. An hour of chill lo-fi and questions and answers. I get really excited every time I schedule the session. My fans are such amazing people and they are all so supportive, funny, intelligent...I could go on and on about their positive qualities. One thing I’m not too fond of is their persistent curiosity. Here’s why.

Yesterday, while streaming, I got an unexpected pain in my forearm. Instinctively, I lifted my shirt sleeve to see what was wrong, flashing a few tattoos at my viewers in the process. I’ve never mentioned my tattoos to my audience, not even my boyfriend, actually, so to have this much attention on them so suddenly makes me want to hide them even more. People started commenting on them during the stream and I tried to dodge the majority of the questions, but I knew they would be inevitable during the Q&A. If the session hadn’t been scheduled for like a week at that point I maybe would’ve postponed it until the dust settled.

“I have several. Not only on my arm.“ I only answer these vague questions. I avoid the ones that are asking details like what is depicted with the tattoos and what’s their meaning, bla, bla, bla.

Here’s the thing. I got my first tattoo when I was fifteen at this shady alley tattoo shop and I’ve been obsessed with tattoos since. I made a deal with myself to get at least one every year.

Needless to say, I’m twenty years old and have almost the same number of tattoos. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of them. And I lied when I said they were embarrassing. I am quite happy with them, the way they look, at least. Each of them represent something different. Unfortunately, they are representative of some dark and depressing times. Times I want only the fewest of few people to know about.

“Yes, he’s here. You can’t see him, but he’s waving. He says hi.“ Corpse is the perfect distraction. My viewers love him just as much - maybe more - as they love me.

He knows how easily I get overwhelmed by the attention and pressure of thousands of eyes on me and whenever I’m having a hard time while streaming all he has to do is walk in my recording room and just say the most random thing. Recently, his go-to phrase has been ‘Chicken wing’ and it always cracks up both me and my viewers.

Speaking of Corpse, him and I have been dating for over a year now. We moved in together a month or two before quarantine was officially a thing so we have been together 24/7. It’s scary how many things you can pick up on when you spend so much time with someone. That, of course, means he has noticed some of my tattoos. He has asked me about them, like why I cover them up and why am I so secretive about them and I’ve always been vague and indirect with my answers. He’s the sweetest and most patient person ever, so he has never pressed me with the questions, but I’m still hoping to gain the courage to reveal them to him someday.

“Thanks for tuning in, guys! See you tomorrow for my regular stream and next month for a chill hang out like this one. Love you, stay safe. Mwah!“ And with that the live video is done and I can finally breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Now we can order dinner“ I smile at Corpse who is chilling on the couch in my recording room. He looks up from his phone screen, returning my smile. “Were you recording a Behind The Scenes again?“

He does that often, not only with my Instagram lives but sometimes my streams as well. That’s actually how we revealed our relationship to our fanbases.

He nods, “Yeah.” He pauses for a second, switching to a sitting position with his feet touching the floor. We’re almost at eye-level now. His arms snake around my waist as he pulls me closer towards him. I take the hint and settle in his lap, my legs on either side of him. “I admire how well you handled the pressure back there. I know how you feel about that topic.”

The small bit of anxiety that has started spreading throughout my chest disappears. He has that calming effect on me. Like my own personal safety blanket that’s with me at all times. “I wouldn’t have handled it so well if you weren’t here with me.” I say as I run a hand through his hair, moving a few stray curls away from his gorgeous eyes.

He shakes his head, making the strands fall back over his eyes, “It has nothing to do with me, Y/N. You are simply an amazing person, that’s all.“ His cold hand cups my burning red cheek, leaning my head down so our foreheads are touching. “Nothing could change my mind about it.“

That sentence causes a small pang in my chest. I feel like a manipulator. I’ve led this man to fall in love with me without knowing the past versions. I realize it’s incredibly manipulative of me to reveal my dark aspects only after we’re head over heels for one another, but I can live with it. If it were up to me, he’d never have to know. He would never have to find out that I’m not the amazing person he thinks I am. I have been broken countless times before and all my pieces are just glued in place. Not all of them are where they’re supposed to be and some of them are on the verge of breaking off. Just like a mirror. You can put all the pieces together but not only will you see the cracks, the shards can fall at any moment.

My tattoos are to me as the cracks are to the mirror - evidence of my fragility and the many falls and breaks I’ve had throughout my life.

“Are you sure about that?“ I whisper, trying my hardest to engrave every detail of this moment in my mind because, after what I’m about to do, I’m afraid we might never be like this again.

The softness of his curls, his scent, his warmth, the way he makes me feel. I can hardly believe I’m risking losing all of that, but I owe him the truth.

I feel him nod against my forehead. I tense up and pull away so I can look him in the eyes. It’s hard for me to maintain eye contact especially when I’m fighting back tears. I can’t even say I’m about to lose him. I’m about to let him go. It’s up to him if he stays or decides that he deserves better.

No backing out, Y/N.

I grab the hem of my sweater and lift it up, revealing the many ink drawings on my skin. I discard the sweater on the floor, leaving me in only my bra meaning all my tattoos are on display. Not exactly all, I have some on my legs as well, but these are some of the most important ones. The ones which reveal most about who I used to be.

Corpse takes my hands, tilting my arms so he can take a better look at the tattoos that go from my wrists to the bend of my arm. His thumbs caress the tattoo on each of my wrists. “This one... “ I nod to my left wrist, “I got on my friend’s birthday. We both did. They’re matching.“ The tattoo depicts a heart with a keyhole. “She got the key.“

“I thought I had the key.“ He says, smirking up at me.

“You do now.“ I feel the pang again but this time it doesn’t go away. It’s a constant pain - a constant fear. Being scared of something inevitable is the most nerve-wracking feeling. It makes you feel small, helpless, like you’re standing aside watching your life be controlled by a force you can’t see.

Before he can break me even more, I go on, nodding to my upper arm, a little below my shoulder where there’s a rope tattoo that bends around my arm, its ends connecting in a bow, “I got this one after my shoulder healed.”

His brows furrow in concern as he tilts my head for me to look at him, “Healed from what?”

Here we go. Let the cat out of the bag. “Um....well...” I instinctively reach up to touch my shoulder, running my fingertips over the inked rope. “My dad wasn’t a very nice guy.”

I can pinpoint the second his heart breaks. I don’t want to hear what he has to say, I know it will kill me, so I just continue, moving onto the one on my other wrist where the word ‘Shadow’ is written in cursive writing, “This was my nickname in my friend group. I was the only one to never get caught shoplifting.”

The tears are gonna start rolling at any moment so I deliver the final blow, moving onto the most traumatic event, aka the tattoo on my collarbone of a heartbeat turning into a dead line and kicking up again, “This one I got after I woke up from my almost overdose.”

As if on cue, a tear falls from my eye onto his hand that’s still holding mine. My voice remains still, to my surprise, but I know it won’t be long before it too gives and breaks. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see any sympathy or that look like he doesn’t recognize me. I feel like I’ve let both myself and him down.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?“ he asks me in a whisper. He sounds almost hurt. “You know you can tell me anything.“

I see another tear fall, “I know. I just...didn’t want you to think any less of me.“

Again, he lifts my head so he can look me straight in the eyes. He knows how much I struggle with eye contact and how much I hate crying in front of people, he knows how vulnerable I feel when someone’s looking me in the eyes or when someone sees me cry. He also knows that he’s the only exception to that rule. He knows I never feel out of place when he’s around.

“Think less of you? Babe, you’re a fighter like no other. You picked you life back up. You did all that on your own. You’re a warrior, Y/N.“

I smile through the tears which are now ones of joy instead of fear and dread. “I was a dumb teenager, Corpse. I had no idea what I was doing. I just wanted to get a thrill and feel something other than pain. I know I went about it the wrong way but...” he gives my hand an encouraging squeeze, “And you’re wrong, I didn’t do it all on my own.” I release his hand so I can cup his cheek. His hand comes up to cover mine as I swipe my thumb on his cheekbone, “I met you a month after I left the hospital. The rest you know. I moved to a less druggie populated part of town and I repaired my relationship with my aunt. All that time, I was balancing between the need to relapse and the will to stay alive. After I met you, that balancing act was no longer a balancing act at all. I didn’t even think about my past anymore. I was more focused on what I could be. On what I have to be to deserve to have you by my side.”

“You will always have me on your side, Y/N. Even when you don’t want or need me there.“ With both his hands holding mine he leans forward, connecting our lips. It’s a short kiss laced with nothing but love and adoration.

As we lay on the couch, him asking about each individual tattoo I didn’t get to tell him about, everything just seems a lot easier. Like a big area that was previously dark has suddenly turned into the brightest point of our relationship.

“I need to get that key tattooed. It’s only appropriate.“ He says, his finger tracing the heart on my wrist.

“Or an ownership deal for it. That heart’s yours, you know.“ I laugh, lifting my arm to inspect the oldest painting on my body, “It’s your favorite one?”

“No.” he shakes his head, “This is my favorite one.” he leans down and kisses the heartbeat on my collar bone. “I’m so glad it started beating again.”

“I am too.“

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus

#corpse husband #corpse #husband #corpsehusband #corpse simp #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse fanfiction #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse fanfic #requests #request #requests open #x reader #reader insert #love #angst

994 notes · View notes

jinkicake · 3 years

Note

Heeeyyyyyy! I was the one who asked for the cat passing comfort with Seijoh Karasuno and Kamomedai pls!

Hi~~~ Pls let me know if you want me to try and write more for any of these (like Karasuno's isn't as long as the others bc I found it so hard to write)!!! Sigh, I've never cried while writing something before but,, I did sob while writing these LMFAO so they might be bad and poorly edited,,, senior pet owner tingz :PPPP Anyway~ (also it was my first time writing with Kamomedai so... I hope they are in character...)

WC- 3k

Kamomedai

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Hirugami quietly starts, slowly opening the classroom door in a calming manner. “I heard everything,” The middle blocker nearly cringes but ultimately contains his composure, how the hell is he supposed to lighten the situation. “I’m really sorry. Are you okay?”

One look into your tearful expression and frazzled state tells Hirugami everything, of course, you’re not okay.

“It’s alright, Hirugami, really.” You offer him a wobbly smile, one that does you more harm than good as a sob crawls its way up your throat. Quickly, you try to wipe a tear off of your cheek before swallowing tightly and trying again. “You should get to practice.”

Hirugami wants to desperately run his hand through his hair and express his frustrations but, he remains calm for you and for the situation. Why can’t you just express your feelings with him?

“Hirugami! (Y/N)! We have practice, let’s go!” Hoshiumi’s voice rings throughout the classroom, abruptly stopping when he notices your tearful expression. “Oh no. Hirugami how could you reject (Y/N)!” Hoshiumi complains, groaning out loud, at the confession scene and his friend’s lack of taste.

“It’s not that, that’s not what’s happening here.” Hirugami tries to explain, gesturing generously with his hands in order to keep his ace at bay.

“I’m just dealing with something personal.” You quietly whisper and finally gather your things off of your desk.

“(Y/N),” Hirugami attempts to stop you, placing his arm out in front of you so that you can’t get past the door.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You nearly choke, your flustered state getting the best of you. You feel like you might melt to the floor any second now, you’re so overwhelmed and your teammates are not making it any easier. “Please let me go to practice.”

Hirugami hesitantly lifts his arm up, watching you as you flee from the classroom and out into the hallway. It’s so silent and tense in the room, he all but sighs.

“I got it mixed up, didn’t I?” Hoshiumi asks, lightly scratching his head as he closes his eyes in thought. “(Y/N) rejected you, didn’t they?”

“No, it was not a confession scene.” Hirugami clarifies as he grabs his bag and walks out into the hallway, after you.

“What was it then?” Hoshiumi can’t help but get nosy, he’s curious and might explode if he doesn’t find out what exactly happened.

“I don’t really think it is my place to tell you. I’m not even supposed to know.” This time, Hirugami sighs loudly and his eyebrows furrow in worry. He’s not even sure why he is so distraught over this, if it’s because of you or the situation you’re in. “Apparently, their cat has to be put down.” His voice is so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. Not even Hoshiumi has anything to say right away.

“That’s really upsetting, (Y/N) always talks about that old hag.” Hoshiumi somberly stares ahead of him, his worry growing just as quickly as his teammates. “They don’t want to talk about it?”

“I guess not.” Hirugami frowns and stubbornly acknowledges your will.

“Then we just have to be there for them! Give (Y/N) support like they give us!” Hoshiumi lightly taps his cheeks, bracing his game face. “Subtly show support while acting as normal as possible.”

Hirugami wants to sigh, that’s easier said than done.

“Come on, let’s go out to eat!” Hoshiumi announces as he steps in front of your path the minute practice is over, he crosses his arms over his chest to ensure that you don’t get away from him.

“I’m not really in the mood,” You sigh and shift the strap of your bag higher up on your shoulder. “you and Hirugami go.”

“(Y/N), we need you to babysit,” Suwa calls from the supply closet, busying himself with a mindless task. As a second-year it was only natural for Suwa to put you in charge of the other second years, specifically the most animated ones.

“I’m tired!"

“If those two get in trouble then it’s on you,”

“Fine, fine. Where are we going?” You bitterly blink back tears of frustration that have welled up in your eyes and try to remain calm, in reality, all you want to do is go home and sleep. The mere thought of your warm bed waiting for you is enough to have you sniffling in irritation. At your question, Hoshiumi gives you a supportive pat on the back as his head tilts up in thought.

“Let’s just go to a convenience store!”

“And have a picnic?” You ask sarcastically but Hoshiumi’s eyes light up, the idea clearly resonates with him.

“Yes! Let’s go! Let’s go!” The shorter second year grabs his close friend by the arm and pulls the three of you close together. “Hirugami, let’s go!”

The walk to the convenience store isn’t long, if anything, Hoshiumi fills up the silence with endless chatter. Rants rest on his lips as he recalls events from earlier in the day, he’s all too consumed with his words to even notice you and Hirugami trailing a few paces behind him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hirugami asks lowly, dipping his head to ensure that you can hear him. “Talk to me, (Y/N).”

“I’m fine,” You quietly murmur back, biting down on your tongue and hoping that if you say the lie enough that you’ll start to believe it.

“I know that you aren’t,” Hirugami continues to push, his head tilts back as he stares up at the night sky and not at the frustrated look on your face.

“What do you want me to say, Hirugami?” You finally snap, your anger boiling beneath the surface, your voice is loud enough that it even catches Hoshiumi’s attention.

“What?”

“I have to lose someone special to me, important to me? That I’ll never see again? Do you really think that I am okay? What kind of stupid question is that?!” You spit, voice raising in octaves as your nerve ends begin to fry.

“(Y/N),” Hoshiumi tries to gently rest his hand over yours but you snap your wrist away before he gets the chance.

“No, I am not okay, Hirugami. Stop pushing me about it.” Your water eyes do nothing to help your case and you bitterly try to push them away with the heel of your palm.

“Don’t forget that we are here for you!” Hoshiumi declares, his voice holding that same serious tone that you only hear during matches. “Just tell us. We want to be here for you.”

His words only make your defenses crack even further and when Hirugami opens his arms, you just about lose it. When one of your closest friends offers a hug, who are you to deny it? Even Hirugami hums in thought.

“We’ll always be with you, (Y/N). Don’t go quiet on us.”

Karasuno

“(Y/N),” Sugawara quietly gasps as he enters the gym early one morning. The last thing the setter expected to see was you, bawling your eyes out, just as the sun was beginning to rise. “what’s wrong?”

You push your tears away with your palms before finally looking up to meet your friend’s worried gaze, his doe eyes only making you feel more anxious.

“Nothing, I mean,” You suck in a harsh breath and try to keep the tears at bay, but to no avail. “my cat has to be put down.”

Sugawara can only watch with an aching heart as you curl in on yourself, bringing your knees to your chest as you sob into your hands.

“Sorry, I was trying to stay calm but I just found out and,” You’re unable to speak as another sob wracks your body, Sugawara is by your side before you can even blink. He gently places one of his hands on your band, softly rubbing circles into your skin while trying to calm you down. “I think I am just going to skip practice.”

“No one would blame you,” Your friend gently coos, momentarily making eye contact with a first-year who had just entered the gym. Tsukishima, followed by Yamaguchi, only makes a face at the scene before him as he enters the locker room. Yamaguchi offers the two of you a sympathetic smile and then follows his friend. “people are starting to enter the gym, do you want to leave?”

All you can do is nod.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Or the rest of the team, any of us can help.” Sugawara gently leads you to your shared classroom, offering you tissues from his bag as he does so. “Daichi and Asahi will do anything for you, you know this.” The playfulness in his words makes you softly smile.

“I’ll let you know if I can think of anything.” You reassure him and Sugawara grabs his hand in yours before offering a heartfelt squeeze.

“Can I tell them what’s going on, the team?” Sugawara is surprised by your tight nod and your verbal acceptance.

“I think, if I’m going to be absent from practice the next couple of days then it’s only fair.”

“Hmm, alright,”

The next you saw of any of your team members was until later in the day. Much to your surprise, you were practically tackled by a short first year as he desperately clung to your arm as a supportive gesture.

“(Y/N)! I hear what happened, I’m so sorry,” Hinata pouts, his hair visibly deflating under his sympathy. “I love your cat! You always take the best pictures of them!”

“Oh, thanks, Hinata.” Your smile turns wobbly as you face the first year and you glance up at the ceiling to try and hold back any tears.

“Do you want me to go with you to the vet? Or we can hang out after school to get your mind off of it?”

“Hinata, I really appreciate it, but aren’t you only procrastinate to find a way to get out of doing your homework.” You tease him and gently flick his forehead, to which the younger player’s nose scrunches up in denial.

“No, of course not! Tsukishima is going to help me study!” Hinata almost screeches, desperate to get you to believe him.

“Is he really?” Your disbelief must be apparent on your face, judging by the dejected sigh from Hinata you must’ve caught him right in the lie.

“No."

The rest of the day followed as normal, it was as if nothing had changed but you still had that impending feeling of dread clouded over you.

Well, your day wasn’t completely normal. Even your shyer first years had come up to speak with you, Kageyama and Tsukishima had even gone as far as to mutter their condolences without so much of a hint of sarcasm.

It seemed as if you were still surrounded by the same level of chaos that you were already accustomed to. Except, Nishinoya and Tanaka’s screams in your ear were much quieter than normal.

Your entire team knew something was going on and were all going to support you through it.

Seijoh

“(Y/N)?” Kindaichi gently calls out your name, poking his head around the corner when he hears your quiet sobs. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He timidly tries to reach out to you but is too unafraid to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing to upset you even more.

Kindaichi has no idea of what to do when someone is crying.

“Obviously not.” Kunimi sneers and judgmentally glares at his friend, his overall face softens when he looks back at you. “(Y/N)?”

“I heard my poor manager’s sobs from a mile away! Baby, what’s wrong?” Oikawa pushes past his underclassmen dramatically, skillfully dodging a hit from Iwaizumi when the pet name leaves his lips. The setter sits right next to you on the bench and wraps his arms around your shoulders before pulling you into his chest, the warmth of his chest melts all of your resistance away and you can’t help but sob into his chest.

It’s a few minutes before you can pull yourself together, to even form a coherent sentence.

Iwaizumi sits on the other side of you and gently rubs your back while the two first years had run to find their other upperclassmen.

“My cat,” You start out, trying your best to swallow the sob in your throat. Even as tears well up in your eyes you try to push through it, just to get it out. “she has to be put down.” Although your voice is soft and just barely above a whisper, it still echos in the empty hallway.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” Iwaizumi speaks up and nearly flicks off Oikawa when he notices his captain tearing up. “You know we’re always here for you whenever you need it.”

“Always, always!” Oikawa sobs, finally breaking as he wraps his arms around you even tighter. He practically squeezes the life out of you and refuses to let you go.

And as much as Iwaizumi loves to tease Oikawa for being so sensitive, as the cancer he is, he can’t help but appreciate the sympathy he is able to deliver.

“We’ll be there any day that you need it.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa are, they follow through with their words, and even rope in Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The other third years don’t even have to be asked when the situation is explained to them, they’re there before Oikawa can even notice it.

“Be graceful.” Oikawa lowly warns with a brightly fake smile, narrowing his eyes at his friends. “We have to be helpful to our manager.”

“Obviously, dumbass.” Iwaizumi spits out and pushes past him to ring your doorbell, patiently waiting for you to answer your door.

“Iwaizumi?” You furrow your brows as you open the door wide enough for just your face to be seen, the wider it grows the more people come into your view. “What are you all doing here?”

“Moral support!” Oikawa pouts as he offers you a hug, one that you gratefully accept. Matsukawa places his hand on Oikawa’s shoulders and leans in just enough for the setter to hear what he has to say.

“Real graceful.” After he pats his shoulder, Matsukawa enters your house with his other friends trailing behind him.

“Do you want something to eat?” Hanamaki offers as he quickly finds himself in your kitchen. “You’ve eaten lately, right?”

“Umm, sorta?” You have to drag Oikawa further into your home and blink away the fresh tears pooling in your eyes once you notice just how quiet it is. “it’s fine.”

“Here, here, they’ll make you something~” Oikawa coos and pushes you onto your couch before sitting down right beside you. Hanamaki has to bite back the insult that is simmering on his tongue.

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s the best at comfort.” Iwaizumi whispers quietly, trying to keep his glare in front of him and not on his best friend. “Let him do his thing.”

“His thing? You mean sympathy?” Matsukawa nearly rolls his eyes and goes down to sit beside you on the couch.

“I’m sure she loved you very very much, (Y/N)! You always had so many stories about her and so much history together!” Oikawa tries to reassure you and places his hands over the tops of your own. “You can tell me more stories, oh, or let’s name a holiday after her!”

“So good at comfort.” Hanamaki coughs and ducks the moment Iwaizumi swings at him, almost fighting back with the spoon in his hand.

“(Y/N), it was her time and that’s okay, you know that right?” Matsukawa asks you, staring intently at the side of your face as you numbly stare ahead. All you can muster is a weak nod as you feel your throat tighten up and tears stubbornly pinching at the corner of your eyes. “She loved you very much and will be okay, she’s doing better now.”

“I understand, Matsukawa.” You shakily whisper and are unable to swallow the sob in your throat. “It’s just hard without her.”

“I know, (Y/N).”

Oikawa whimpers quietly beside you and pulls you into his chest as he tries to hide his teary expression from your view.

“We will make a beautiful garden for her! Or, or name a street after her!” The captain can’t stop himself from trying to help come up with a comforting memorial, something to help you grieve.

“Whatever it is that you pick (Y/N),” Iwaizumi finally comes into view and pushes an ice cream sandwich to you as an offer. “we’ll be here to help support you. Forever how long you need.”

“Always, (Y/N)!” Hanamaki yells from your kitchen as Matsukawa gently tugs on your sweater.

“For now,” Iwaizumi pauses before taking a seat on your floor. “why don’t you tell us some of your favorite memories while Hanamaki finishes cooking what he thinks to be your favorite dish.”

“It is their favorite! They told me themselves!” Hanamaki retorts back, defending himself as Matsukawa lifts his hand in a gesture meaning he can vouch.

“Or tell us funny stories about her.” Oikawa sniffles, smoothly wiping the tear off of his cheek. “Or we can watch your favorite tv show? Or we can go get your favorite snacks like a little trip down to the convenience store?”

“Whatever it is, (Y/N), we’ll do it.” Iwaizumi tells you firmly, looking you deep enough in the eye for you to know that he means every word of it.

@kiwibirdmother

#kamomedai x reader #karasuno x reader #seijoh x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader

75 notes · View notes

bamf-jaskier · 3 years

Text

Who the Fuck is Eskel?

If you have ever gone on The Witcher tag on Tumblr, I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of blogs dedicated to this guy named Eskel and for people who have just seen the show you might be wondering - who the fuck is this guy?

Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Part 5 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books.

Post under the cut

Let’s jump in by talking about what books Eskel is in. He’s only mentioned in one line in The Last Wish, The Tower of Swallows and The Time of Contempt. He has a flashback scene in Lady of the Lake and the only book where he plays a heavy role in is Blood of Elves.

For all you Eskel Stans out there, this is good news, because it looks like S2 of the show is going to be taking some cues from Blood of Elves and we do know Eskel is going to be appearing so these scenes might be showing up in some form or another in the show.

We first meet Eskel in Blood of Elves when Geralt is first bringing Ciri to the keep:

“Who comes?” Ciri heard a menacing, metallic voice which sounded like a dog’s bark. “Geralt?”

“Yes, Eskel. It’s me.”

“Come in.”

The witcher dismounted, took Ciri from the saddle, stood her on the ground and pressed a bundle into her little hands which she grabbed tightly, only regretting that it was too small for her to hide behind completely.

“Wait here with Eskel,” he said. “I’ll take Roach to the stables.”

“Come into the light, laddie,” growled the man called Eskel. “Don’t lurk in the dark.”

Ciri looked up into his face and barely restrained her frightened scream. He wasn’t human. Although he stood on two legs, although he smelled of sweat and smoke, although he wore ordinary human clothes, he was not human. No human can have a face like that, she thought.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” repeated Eskel.

She didn’t move. In the darkness she heard the clatter of Roach’s horseshoes grow fainter. Something soft and squeaking ran over her foot. She jumped. “Don’t loiter in the dark, or the rats will eat your boots.”

Still clinging to her bundle Ciri moved briskly towards the light. The rats bolted out from beneath her feet with a squeak. Eskel leaned over, took the package from her and pulled back her hood.

“A plague on it,” he muttered. “A girl. That’s all we need.”

She glanced at him, frightened. Eskel was smiling. She saw that he was human after all, that he had an entirely human face, deformed by a long, ugly, semi-circular scar running from the corner of his mouth across the length of his cheek up to the ear.

“Since you’re here, welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he said. “What do they call you?”

“Ciri,” Geralt replied for her, silently emerging from the darkness. Eskel turned around. Suddenly, quickly, wordlessly, the witchers fell into each other’s arms and wound their shoulders around each other tight and hard. For one brief moment.

“Wolf, you’re alive.”

“I am.”

“All right.” Eskel took a torch from its bracket. “Come on. I’m closing the inner gates to stop the heat escaping.”

Couple things here. First, for all the game fans out there, Eskel’s scar in the books is VERY different. It’s not the lightening-like claw marks that go over his eye but instead it goes from the corner of his mouth to his ear. This is interesting because it really parallels in my mind Ciri’s scar she gets later on that extends from under her eye to her ear.

Also, the little reunion between Geralt and Eskel, so sweet. The line about Eskel in Last Wish establishes that they were close friends so here is the snippet just to give more backstory to the two of them:

“Once, years ago, when a little snot-faced brat following his studies in Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ Settlement, he and a friend, Eskel, had captured a huge forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug with a thread. They were in fits of laughter watching the antics of the tied bumblebee, until Vesemir, their tutor, caught them at it and tanned their hides with a leather strap.”

Childhood friends and brothers is just so damn great. Actually, speaking of brothers, it is stated in Blood of Elves that Geralt and Eskel actually look very similar and are often mistaken for brothers such as in this scene from Triss’s POV.

Eskel stood next to Geralt, resembling the Wolf like a brother apart from the colour of his hair and the long scar which disfigured his cheek. And the youngest of the Kaer Morhen witchers, Lambert, was there with his usual ugly, mocking expression. Vesemir was not there.

“Welcome and come in,” said Eskel. “It is as cold and blustery as if someone has hung themselves. Ciri, where are you off to? The invitation does not apply to you. The sun is still high, even if it is obscured. You can still train.”

“Hey.” The Enchantress tossed her hair. “Politeness comes cheap in Witchers’ Keep now, I see. Ciri was the first to greet me, and brought me to the castle. She ought to keep me company—”

This really interests me because Ciri is very young child when she meets Eskel and she is very terrified of him and intimidated. Which makes sense, she is very traumatized. But, when Triss meets Eskel she only makes a short note of his scar and focuses more on his resemblance to Geralt and commenting on the lack of politeness. It just goes to show how different characters perceive people differently. A child’s perspective of a warrior is not going to be the same as a Mage’s.

“You didn’t even know.” She nodded in what was now a calm, concerned and gentle reproach. “You’re pathetic guardians. She’s ashamed to tell you because she was taught not to mention such complaints to men. And she’s ashamed of the weakness, the pain and the fact that she is less fit. Has any one of you thought about that? Taken any interest in it? Or tried to guess what might be the matter with her? Maybe her very first bleed happened here, in Kaer Morhen? And she cried to herself at night, unable to find any sympathy, consolation or even understanding from anyone? Has any one of you given it any thought whatsoever?”

“Stop it, Triss,” moaned Geralt quietly. “That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.”

“The devil take it,” cursed Coën. “We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you—”

“Silence,” growled the old witcher. “Not a word.”

It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.

“Triss,” he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, “help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.”

Now, if you can’t tell, Triss’ favorite is Eskel. This scene is also implies that Eskel is more magically powerful than Geralt which Is very interesting. But Triss is an Eskel stan, in fact a couple lines later Triss thinks to herself:

Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.

“Of course,” he said casually, smiling. “We understand and clearly we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—”

Eskel definitely has the older sibling energy where he ends up in charge sometimes and knows how to keep a cool head. He’s also the most aware of societal norms of behavior which is why Triss likes his so much. She really respects people who know how to move in society.

There’s also this scene in Blood of Elves where Eskel is drinking and offers Triss some:

“White Seagull.”

“What?”

“A mild remedy,” Eskel smiled, “for pleasant dreams.”

“Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That’s why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!”

“White Seagull is very gentle. It’s Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic.”

“If there’s magic in this liquid I’m not allowed to take it!”

“Exclusively natural ingredients,” Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed, disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir’s ingredients. “And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm you.”

I think it’s very funny how secret The Witcher keeps all their potions and elixirs. Whether it’s mushrooms or potions, they gotta keep those secret drugs locked down tight. Also the fact that Eskel is the fantasy equivalent of high every night? Love that for him.

Eskel really is the peace-maker of the group. He’s not a push-over by any means but he is definitely more willing to play along that any of the others. When Triss is talking at night, Eskel is really the only one listening and engaging, even if it’s very half-hearted.

In the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers’ reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word.

Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that “in his day” everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier.

Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.

And he is really the only sort-of listener to Triss’ stories and retellings of events:

This time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent – until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.

“And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn’t like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?”

“Well, you know…” he stammered, “you keep telling us about the possibility of a new war… About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they’re saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again—”

“So what?” said Lambert. “They’ve been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already decided – I’m going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It’s well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.”

“True,” Coën acknowledged. “The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can’t fend for themselves remain in the villages… scores of children with no home or care, roaming around… Easy prey attracts monsters.”

“And the lord barons and village elders,” added Eskel, “have their heads full of the war and don’t have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It’s true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?”

Once more, Eskel is the peace-maker of the conversation and he brings it back around to what Triss originally said and also points to her expertise. Basically, Eskel is not really a fan of verbal conflict.

This is actually the last line we see Eskel in a scene outside of the flashback in Lady of the Lake. After this, Triss, Geralt and Ciri head off. It is important to note that near the end of Blood of Elves Ciri says this about Yennefer:

The lady magician knew a surprising amount about a witcher’s sword and “dance.” She knew a great deal about the secrets of Kaer Morhen; there was no doubt she had visited the Keep. She knew Vesemir and Eskel. Although not Lambert and Coën.

Yennefer used to visit Kaer Morhen. Ciri guessed why – when they spoke of the Keep – the eyes of the enchantress grew warm, lost their angry gleam and their cold, indifferent, wise depth. If the words had befitted Yennefer’s person, Ciri would have called her dreamy, lost in memories.

So clearly Yennefer is also friendly with Eskel and knows him. I love the idea that Yennefer regularly visited Kaer Morhen before Ciri came into Geralt’s care and I would literally cry if they did a flashback sequence in S2 of Yennefer visiting Geralt in Kaer Morhen.

The flashback sequence in Lady of the Lake with Eskel goes like this:

The fire in the huge fireplace went out. A gust of wind from the mountains whistled through the crevices of the walls and screamed through the improperly closed shutters of Kaer Morhen, Home of the Witchers.

“Damn it!” Eskel said, standing up and going to the cupboard. “Seagull or vodka?”

“Vodka,” Geralt and Coen said with one voice.

“Sure,” interjected Vesemir, hidden in the shadows, “Yes, of course! Drown your stupidity in vodka. Damn fools!”

“It was an accident…” muttered Lambert. “She had already mastered the comb…”

“Shut your big mouth, you idiot! I don’t want to hear any more! I warned you, if something happened to that little girl…”

“Enough,” Coen interrupted him, softly. “She sleeps peacefully. Deep and healthy. She will wake up a bit sore, but that’s it. About the trance, and what happened, she will not even remember it.”

“As long as you remember,” said Vesemir, panting angrily. “Cabbage heads! Pour for me too, Eskel.”

They were silent for a long time, listening intently to the howling gale.

“We will need to call someone,” Eskel finally said. “We will need to bring a sorcerer here. What is happening to the girl, it is not normal.”

Eskel is one of The Witcher who really pushes to call Triss in order to help with Ciri’s trances. Also, once again this guy is hitting the drinks.

So yeah! That’s Eskel in the books. Based on how in the non-canon wedding short Asaps wrote where he ended up having Triss and Eskel get together, I think his hints of them having a connection in the books is very intentional and if The Witcher wasn’t such a god damn tragedy and Triss wasn’t mooning over Geralt, I’m willing to bet they would have gotten together at some point.

Eskel is the peace-maker of the family and is the best at recognizing the norms of “polite society” (or at least noble society) and while Ciri might have been scared of his appearance, it isn’t enough to phase Triss who is considered rather vain. In fact, she seems to respect Eskel the most out of the Witchers. Just imagine a dark-haired, scarred Geralt and BOOM, you got yourself an Eskel.

158 notes · View notes

moonbeamwritings · 3 years

Note

Imagine a scenario based off a dream I had, modern AU where DIO is like 28 a single father, Lawyer to the Stars on the Coast of California with little 7 year old Giorno.

The Reader, Tired- maybe coming off an over night shift, half asleep is casually walking down the busy sidewalk, catches sight of a distracted Giorno not waiting at the cross walk (on his Gameboy or something) and in an instantly the reader pulls Giogio out of the way of an on passing car.

Boom. Dio saw it all and starts scolding Gio. I woke up after that bit.

Point is... I wonder what would have happened next 🤔😕😳

this is cool as hell, anon. cool. as. hell. i’m here for it and i will definitely try to deliver !! it got very out of hand, but i hope you enjoy!!

part 2

Your day had been long, having worked open to close at the coffee shop down the street from your apartment. As your shift came to an end, you blearily worked through the closer checklist, puttering around the store as you cleaned and closed everything down. With one last turn of a key, you finally, finally, began your trek home.

As you came up to the crosswalk, you noticed a little boy toddling along, gaming system in hand as he went. He was so wrapped up in his game that he barely gave the busy street a second thought as he stepped a foot off the curb.

It was like you were watching the situation in slow motion, his foot moving at a snail’s pace right in front of a moving car. Acting on adrenaline alone, suddenly far more awake than you’d ever felt in your life, you gripped the handle of his backpack to yank him up and into your arms.

With him back on the sidewalk, you placed him back on his feet as you knelt in front of him. “Jeez kiddo, you alright? You have to pay better attention around here.”

As the small boy opened his mouth to say something, a man with a thick british accent came hustling over. “Giorno! How many times do I have to tell you to put that thing away when you’re walking?”

The man, who you could only assume was his father, pulled the device from the boy’s hand before lifting him up into his arms. “Don’t do that again.”

His son nodded meekly, eyes shifting down to his father’s shoes.

“I’m sorry about him. I thought he was right next to me.”

You waved the man off as your gaze finally moved to meet his. He was handsome, like something out of a fairytale, all muscle with perfectly styled blond hair and an impeccable, no doubt expensive, suit. In the back of your mind, you felt as if you’d seen him before, but, being unable to place it, you brushed the thought away.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of ogling at the man for too much longer, you excused yourself. “It’s no problem. Have a nice night you two.”

With the situation over with, you continued your walk home.

Upon your arrival, you did everything you could to decompress: showering, changing, and situating yourself on your couch to watch mindless television. As you flicked through channel after channel, you finally landed on a celebrity gossip station, half listening as the host worked through this week’s hot topics.

You rolled your eyes.

She went on to describe yet another celebrity’s messy divorce, among other criminal charges apparently. Your attention was quickly piqued, though, when a familiar face flashed onto your screen. There he was a perfect combination of muscle, confidence, and style.

Dio Brando.

The man whose child you’d saved, who you’d embarrassingly checked out in a tired stupor, was Dio Brando. It took everything in you not to bring a hand up to smack at your own forehead. No wonder you’d recognized him, he was any celebrity’s dream lawyer and had his own fair share of scandals and nonsense.

Yikes.

With one final look at the man in question, you changed the channel, hardly able to bear the gritty details of a court case you didn’t care about.

The whole incident with him and his son became nothing more than a blip in your day-to-day life, telling a few work friends and leaving it at that. Did you sometimes check Dio’s Instagram out of what you explained away as genuine curiosity? Well, yeah, but you were only human after all.

The weekend after your run-in with the famous lawyer, you were tasked with another long shift slaving over coffee orders and dealing with rude customers. The moment the morning rush ended, you jumped at the chance to take your lunch break, situating yourself in a corner of the café. You watched as only a few customers filtered in and out, thankful that the worst of the day was now over.

Losing yourself in your Twitter feed, you mindlessly sipped at a cup of tea as the remaining time of your break ticked away, only snapping back to reality at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Mind if I join you?” Looking up from your phone, you locked eyes with Dio.

“Oh! Uh, sure!”

You watched as he delicately sat himself in the chair across from you, ankle perched on his knee as he shot you an unwavering smirk. As he got situated, he stuck a hand in your direction.

“Dio Brando.”

Biting back a snarky quip about how narcissistic his introduction alone made him seem, you gently placed your hand in his as you gave him your name.

“I wanted to thank you again for what you did for my son.”

“It’s really no problem. I think anyone would have done the same.”

He eyed you carefully, fingers dancing against the mug in front of him. “So, what do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“As repayment.” He explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you want money?” Dio leaned across the table to mumble, “Sex, maybe? I don’t like leaving debts unpaid.”

A look of disgust crossed your face as you put both your phone and drink down on the table, moving to sit on your hands to resist the urge to smack him upside the head. “What are you talking about? I don’t want anything. I was being nice. You don’t need to pay anyone off for being nice.”

“Hmm,” He seemed deep in thought, eyes drifting up and down your face, lingering on your lips for only a split second, “nothing at all? You do know who I am, don’t you?”

With your break coming to an end and your patience wearing thin, you started to collect your things. “Look, pretty boy, I don’t really care who you are. You’re honestly kind of insufferable. I helped your son because he was in trouble. I don’t want your money and I don’t want to have sex with you.”

You hadn’t meant to be quite that biting, but you couldn’t help yourself. How dare he come into your work, assume that he owed you something, and then have the audacity to tease you about it? What the fuck?

“Pretty boy?”

“I need to get back to work. I’d really appreciate it if you didn't come back in here if you’re just going to pull more of this shit.”

Without sparing him a second glance, you made your way back behind the counter, placing your stuff in the back before returning to your place at the register. By the time you returned, he was gone. Good riddance.

You could only assume how warped his worldview was if he genuinely thought he needed to pay you off for helping his son. A creeping feeling of sympathy worked its way into your brain, but was quickly swatted away by the image of his smug smile.

You didn’t see him again for another week, this time armed with a grin that was a little less playful and a little more genuine, almost sheepish.

Taking his order with little fuss, you got to work pouring his coffee and adding specific ingredients. He attempted to make idle conversation with you, asking about your day and how you’d been doing with work. You humored him, if only to be polite, answering his questions with little enthusiasm.

Days passed much the same way. Dio would come in, make small talk, and then leave. No further incidents like that first meeting, no more overt attempts at getting in your pants. Nothing.

It was all… strange, to put it simply. It was like dealing with two different people: the overconfident, well-dressed Dio Brando versus the charming single dad Dio. You were left conflicted, wrestling the two images in your mind to decide how you truly saw Dio.

One night, he’d offered to walk you home after another of your late shifts with the promise that he’d get up to no funny business, as you’d put it. The conversation had lulled as you both became enraptured with the noises of the city, your faces bathed in warm neon lights. The silence was nice, welcomed even, as you thought about how to phrase your feelings.

You’d come to like Dio, in your own silly little way. You had memorized his order, knew more about his job and his son, knew him more intimately than you had ever expected to, but one question remained. One question loomed in your brain, clouding any positive thoughts you may otherwise have: Why? Why did he suddenly come into your work? Why did he take such a liking to you? Was it all a ruse, a sick way of finally repaying you?

“You look like you’re about to throw up.” He commented lightly, watching as a crease formed between your eyebrows, as your face twisted in discomfort.

“I-” You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at him in order to actually get the question out. “Dio, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He spoke earnestly, eyes still tracing over your side profile.

“Why?”

“Why what? You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Why would you keep coming into the store after I told you off? I just can’t shake this feeling that you’re still… ugh,” you groaned as the words left your mouth, deciding that this was actually a very bad idea, “I don’t know, buttering me up. Like this is all some dream where I’ll wake up to you laughing in my face, telling me that you were only being nice to me to repay me or sleep with me or something.”

Wordlessly, Dio grasped your arm and led you under the awning of a nearby business, not really wanting to stop sidewalk traffic with whatever confession he may find himself making. He looked deathly serious, like you’d just promised to ruin his entire life. Maybe, with all of your questioning, you had.

“Look,” he sighed, “Did I initially come in with the intention of repaying you by whatever means necessary? Yes and I think we both know that, but it’s different now.”

He paused, clearly choosing his next words very carefully. “You’re one of the only people to actually try to put me in my place, to show me that I was being an asshole. It’s different with you. Hell, you kept me up that night. I couldn’t get you out of my head. It was like you were haunting me, driving me crazy. I had to get to the bottom of why I was so taken with you.”

You felt your mouth drop open at his admission, feeling as though your feet were swept right out from under you, sending you tumbling, “Oh.”

“Oh.” Dio mimicked, his voice lilting up to tease you. “Does that answer your question?”

“Uh, I-... Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Good then let’s go.” He tugged you along, guiding you back out onto the sidewalk and towards your apartment. Dio’s hand didn’t leave yours until you arrived at your doorstep.

“Goodnight.” It was quick, uttered as soon as his hand left yours as he moved to turn around and make his own way home.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Home. I have a kid, remember?”

“Well, of course I remember, but don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

The smile that graced his face was nothing short of teasing, a small quirk of his lips as he looked you up and down. “Only if it’s interesting.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled, stomping down the stairs of your apartment complex to come face-to-face with Dio, “you’re relentless.”

“So I’ve been told.” He watches as your lip twitches in annoyance. God, did he love to push your buttons. “Spit it out, then. What’s still on your mind? Eager to ask me more questions?”

In lieu of a verbal retort, you took his face in your hands and all but yanked him down to connect your lips with his, eager to finally shut him up. His response was immediate, moving his lips against yours as a hand weaved around your waist, another resting just above your ass.

As you moved to break away, his lips followed yours, pressing another needy kiss to your mouth. Finally satiated, he pulled back to take in the dazed expression on your face.

“I do have one question.”

Dio let out a barking laugh that had him pulling you closer, gripping at your waist, “What is it?”

“Is sex off the table now that you’re not trying to repay me or-?”

He rolled his eyes, leaning in so his lips barely touched yours as he spoke. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

#moonbeam answers #dio brando x reader #dio brando imagine #dio x reader #dio imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #thank you for sending in!!#all of my dio fics end up being too long #a curse #this fic was purely a lady gaga fueled fever dream im so sorry

293 notes · View notes

rpmemes-galore · 3 years

Text

the blacklist : season 1 ... sentence starters

“He's a myth.”

“You can't shoot me!“

“What's the question?“

“A man's life is at stake!“

“You killed three people.“

“Aren't you presumptuous?“

“I never tire of being correct.“

“I only do what's good for me.“

“Why involve me? I'm nobody.“

“If I do nothing, he dies anyway.”

“I was asked to make you suffer.“

“Is that meant to be directed at me?“

“I prefer to play with myself in private.“

“We are not going to live through this...“

“We never really know anyone, do we?“

“You're a pain in my neck, but I like you.”

“What other secrets have you just given away?“

“If you had come to me, I could have helped you.“

“I wish I could help you, but you know how it goes.“

“If you really want her to talk, I should meet with her.“

“I have no interest in cases that I have no interest in.“

“Shut up and hand me that Snickers bar, would you?“

“We could have avoided all of this. But now we can't.“

“They replace trust with fear and the threat of violence.“

“That may be, but killing him isn't gonna solve anything.“

“And, little pig, little pig, you are going to let me come in.“

“Your cure is experimental. It could just as easily kill him.“

“And it will end with your screams, as God is my witness.“

“I can only lead you to the truth; I can't make you believe it.“

“Just out of curiosity, what number am I on your speed dial?“

“We could've killed you. I don't mean today. I mean any day.“

“Everything changes. Everything evolves. This is my evolution.“

“Let me put your mind at ease. I'm never telling you everything.“

“A man's life is always at stake. And tragically low stakes at that.“

“Why are you doing this? You don't take life. You clean up death.“

“'Cause I don't like you. And that hat makes your head look funny.“

“If you're looking for sympathy, you might want to start with honesty.“

“You all seem to be doing a perfectly mediocre job of that on your own.“

“You're here because somebody screwed up. The deal went sideways.“

“Do you have any idea what this man has done? This man is a monster!”

“We let you live. And in exchange, we we trust that our secret remains secret.“

“As soon as you hang up that phone, he's gonna kill you, then he's gonna kill me.”

“Now you see? You make it sound like treason, so black and white. It's not, it's green.”

“Of course not! I'm a criminal. Criminals are notorious liars. Everything about me is a lie.“

“You're not one of the good guys, and as of today, you're utterly worthless to the bad guys.“

“That's why I won't allow that punk out there to get the best of me, let alone the last of me.“

“What if I were to tell you that all the things you've come to believe about yourself are a lie?“

“But, if anyone will give me a second chance it's you. The two of us have overcome so much.“

“It's hard to... not say goodbye. I have lost so many people. Never seems to get any easier.“

“I walked through the door. And there was just blood. All I saw was blood. All there was was blood.“

“Did you really think there was a distance you could cover? Or a hole deep enough that you could hide in?”

“Before we do this, let me be clear. I'm not here to socialize, I have no interest in having dinner with you, nor do we have the time.“

“Have you ever wondered how criminals who know they can't trust one another are still able to conduct business with each other?“

“Five years thinking about the pain I was going to inflict on you while slowly breaking your will, your body, and finally your mind. That day is here, my friend.“

“I think you're trying to dissolve something else. Your past, maybe? Whatever the horrible thing was that twisted you up inside and made you into the freak that you are!“

“I've been moving comfortably through the world for the past twenty years without a trace, and now some two-bit spy killer is going to put my life and business in jeopardy?”

“There is nothing that can take the pain away. But eventually, you will find a way to... live with it. There will be nightmares. And everyday when you wake up, it will be the first thing you think about. Until one day, it will be the second thing.”

#the blacklist quotes #rp meme #sentence starters

81 notes · View notes

sapphire-dreamsky · 3 years

Text

Past, Present, Future

Starring: Yuuji Itadori, Nobara Kugisaki, Megumi Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Reader, Sukuna

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Warnings: Cheating is mentioned, Satoru might be ooc

A/N: I don’t condone cheating. I wanted this fic to be light and fun but it turned out a bit differently. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, in this fanfic, Satoru was an a** when he was younger.

It was not their fault they thought their sensei was single. While beautiful, Gojo was so immature that it was hard to imagine him with someone. This person deserves a trophy for being able to put up with the ball of energy and immaturity that was Gojo Satoru. Besides,...after the Kyoto Goodwill event, they heard some...ahem...interesting rumours concerning the white head. Apparently, their beloved idiotic sensei cannot settle down. There were so many rumours surrounding the strongest; some were hard to believe because of their level of ridiculousness, others were not so hard to believe because...well...it is Gojo Satoru. He could make anything possible. One of them, while ridiculous, seems highly probable. It was Utahime-sensei who told them about it when they pestered her about Gojo-sensei in his adolescent years. They wanted to be able to relate to him a little bit more. What they heard though, left their mind reeling with questions.

"Gojo-sensei dated more than twenty girls in a month?!"

That sounded so ridiculous, cruel, and impossible. However, Utahime was not one to lie or slander one's reputation like that. Even if it was someone as annoying as Gojo. After that, they were unable to picture their sensei as the type to settle down. It was just impossible. Even if that little anecdote was years ago, as Megumi specified to his friends. It was possible that Gojo changed and was not the same man anymore. But the other two’s minds were set on the fact that their sensei is a player. Or a serial-dater. Although, they have yet to catch him in the act. As of right now, they haven’t seen Gojo with anyone. Maybe Utahime did exaggerate his reputation a little after all. But their curiosity was already set. They wanted to catch their sensei in the act. So, they decided to trail their sensei when the latter was seen heading out in casual clothing and his horrible out-of-style glasses. Kugisaki sighed in despair when seeing the infamous pair of glasses on his face. She was persuaded that he couldn’t be heading out on a date with this offending accessory.

Low and behold, they were able to trail Satoru without getting busted yet. Their training with the second-year students must have paid off! Or so the three ‘spies’ thought. Truthfully, Satoru noticed them a while ago. Actually, it was as soon as they left the school. But he thought their little game was amusing so he let it go on. After all, it wasn’t like he was trying to hide where he was going. If he was, he would have teleported to the alley near the cafe he loves to go to. Just thinking about the cafe and the sweets which they sell makes him salivate. He couldn’t wait to go and try out the new Friday special. So, with a new spring in his step, completely forgetting about his poor students who didn’t have long legs like his, he practically jogs to his favourite cafe, the new sweets calling for him. The three students curse as they are forced to practically run to catch up with their excited sensei. In their mind, Gojo was late as usual, and to not make his date angry, he was hurrying to their meeting place. An angry woman is scary. The proof of that statement lies in Kugisaki and Maki-senpai. Both were scary when angered.

The little cafe was quiet. There were not many people dining in. In fact, it was a perfect place to have a date in, Yuuji noted. Particularly if you don’t want to get caught dating multiple girls at the same time. Luckily for the three of them, the windows were see-through. They could easily see inside as their sensei plops down on one of the comfortable seats. Immediately, a waitress comes and takes his order. Yuuji and Nobara squint as they try to somehow decipher the exchange between the waitress and Gojo.

‘‘Do you know what they are saying?’’

‘‘Of course not you idiot! They are too far.’’

The only proof of Gojo being on a date will have to be to see someone sit across Gojo then. The three of them desolate over that fact. Knowing their sensei, it could take forever before they realise he is, in the end, not on a date.

‘‘I don’t think he is on a date.’’

Nobara and Yuuji look at Fushiguro with question marks on their head. The latter sigh, before pointing at their sensei.

‘‘If he was on a date, I think the date would have been waiting for a while now. No matter the circumstances, Gojo-sensei is always late.’’

‘‘Don’t you think he would try to make an exception for a date?’’, Yuuji ponders.

‘‘If he is dating around, I don’t think so. He could care less if he is on time.’’ After that, Nobara and Yuuji fell silent. They were losing their time after all. Sad and looking like kicked puppies at their failed mission, they were ready to head back to the campus when they noticed a young woman watching them with inquisitive eyes.

‘‘Ah, uh, we were...uh’’

Yuuiji was not making any real sense as he tried to explain why they were hiding behind the bushes in the park. He quickly relaxes as she lets out a little laugh. ‘‘I see. So you are these guys then.’’ Before they could question her on what they mean, she continued. ‘‘Do you want to come to the little cafe? It’s on me.’’

That offer sounded suspicious but they were jujutsu sorcerers in training. They were sure they could handle a civilian. She doesn’t seem to have any curse energy. And if she was indeed linked to the group of curses after Yuuji, they could always count on their sensei who was currently typing on his phone. The woman’s phone went off at the same moment. Multiple arrays of texts follow each other. They felt sympathy for her phone as it seems to be getting bombarded by numerous texts. All of which she ignores as they follow her to the cafe.

The inside of the cafe was as nice as they expected, if not much better. The smell of coffee and sweets was overwhelming but in a good way. Their sensei was seated at the far back of the cafe, meaning if they were noticed, they were screwed. They couldn’t really find any explanation on why a stranger would invite them in a cafe. One that is coincidentally the same as their sensei. Before they could steer away from the back though, the woman grabbed their shoulders and gently pushed them towards where their teacher was sitting. The latter was frowning at his phone, typing some more before the woman made her presence known.

‘‘I’m here. There’s no need to send me multiple messages again.’’

Rolling her eyes, she pushed the three frozen students in front of him. ‘What is happening,’ is the only thought ringing in their minds as their teacher waved at them, grinning widely.

‘‘Oh? You found my beloved students?’’

‘‘They were hanging around in the bushes. You could have invited them in, instead of just sitting and dreaming about all the cavities you will get.’’

The woman sits in front of their teacher as the three young adolescents sit near her. They didn’t really understand the peculiar situation anymore. ‘Was this woman dating sensei?’ ‘She is far too nice to be dating him.’ ‘Oh no! She must not know about sensei’s reputation!’ These were the thoughts that simultaneously rang in their heads. One thing for sure, they had to warn her. She was nice enough to invite them on their date, they felt that she didn’t deserve the heartbreak. In fact, no woman deserved to be heartbroken by the cruelty of their sensei.

The couple were discussing their respective days while waiting for the sweets Satoru ordered earlier. Both seemed to be on good terms, laughing at each other’s jokes. They were in all, having a good time. Yuuji felt guilty. What if in the end, Gojo-sensei was serious about her? But knowing their sensei, he had so many secrets that they felt they must at least tell her about Gojo’s habits.

‘‘So...Uhm...Miss?’’

‘‘Ah. How rude of me! I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m (Y/N). You can just call me that. I don’t mind.’’

Her smile was so sweet that Kugisaki felt it was her duty to kick Gojo if he was indeed playing around.

‘‘How did you two meet? Are you a sorc- oof’’

The kick in the angle was by Megumi. The gloomy boy glared at Yuuji while drinking his drink silently.

‘‘Funny thing is, we actually met when we were in high school. I didn’t go to that fancy school of yours though. I went to an all-girl school. I was in dire need of some sweets when we ran into each other and I spilled his drink. All over myself.’’

She glared at Gojo who only smiled innocently. He was not innocent, however. The students knew why the drink was only spilled on her while he remained spotless.

‘‘And then did you start dating since then?’’

‘‘No. I hated him.’’

That statement did not surprise any of them. Gojo feigned hurt while he clutched onto his shirt.

‘‘How could you hate me?! I am as sweet as a strawberry cake!’’

‘‘Maybe if someone poisoned it. Then yes. You would be the strawberry cake.’’

The students watched them banter back and forth.

‘‘Then...when did you start dating?’’

‘‘Hmm...When did we start dating Satoru?’’

‘‘After I declared my love for you during our third meeting anniversary of course!’’

The students sweat-dropped. That sounds like something Satoru would do.

‘‘But then...what about all the girls Utahime-sensei said you were dating? The twenty girls in a month?’’

Both Megumi and Nobara froze. As soon as the shock from Yuuji’s bluntness faded, they stomped on his feet. He winces at that. Even Sukuna, who didn’t mean to spy on them, but was curious about the annoying sorcerer let out a sigh at the lack of tack of his vessel.

Satoru’s smile seemed frozen on his face. Nobody moved as they waited for the young woman’s reaction. The waitress brought in the sweets at that exact moment but no one dared to dig in the delicious food. Finally,

‘‘Oh, that. Yeah. I knew about it. Although it wasn't really twenty. It was five girls. He thought he was so slick with it too. He dated one of my ex-friends. I’m pretty sure you forgot about her though.’’

‘‘Ah...uh...I can’t remember…’’

Satoru seemed sheepish and awkward. Such a strange and alien sight of their always composed sensei.

‘‘Of course, you wouldn’t. You dated so many people I’m surprised they never found out. I would have slapped you if I was one of them. You got off easy.’’

(Y/N) drinks her coffee as if what she just said was a mere comment on the weather. Satoru glances at his girlfriend every now and then while Yuuji was feeling awful.

‘‘I am so sorry Gojo-sensei, (Y/n)-san! I shouldn’t have brought it up!’’

The female cocked her head to the side, throwing a slight smile in his way.

‘‘It’s fine Itadori-kun. It’s not like I wanted to date him back then. I told you, didn’t I? I hated him.’’

This time, it was Kugisaki who was curious.

‘‘Then, how did you and sensei date? He dated your friend right?’’

(Y/n) shrugged carelessly, digging into her cake with her fork before thrusting it in Satoru’s face. The man was far too silent for his own good.

‘‘It was into our second years of being frenemies. He was awful as you must have heard. He was a true player back then. But then, mysteriously, he cleaned up his act. He broke up with my friend and seemingly with the other girls too. I didn’t see him hanging around the city with any girls for a good year, nor did he get any calls from any one of them when we hanged out. After all of this, my friend, the one who dated him, came to meet me after class and started shouting at me. Apparently, Satoru was in love with someone for real and after some digging, she came to the conclusion that it was my fault since I knew him as well. For her, I was jealous and tried to seduce him. It was a ridiculous and frivolous idea. Or so I thought. Because a year later that dork comes and tells me he loves me.’’

Yuuji and Megumi were in awe. So, their sensei really did go and date multiple girls at once?

‘‘How were you certain he would never cheat?’’ This time it was Megumi asking the question. Surely, you must have had some reservations about dating such a character.

‘‘I was unsure of it too at first. I rejected him and stopped talking to him. He was persistent and wouldn’t stop. So I agreed to one date, which turned into multiple ones. As of now, I haven’t caught him cheating. But if he does, then I will get sad and leave him. I can’t stand cheaters. What he did is disgusting, but people do change I guess. That is, only if they really want to. A lesson for you kids. Don’t go and date someone who is horrible to you and think you can change them. In the end, only they can change themselves. They are not worth your time if they are stubborn and refuse to see the wrong in their actions.’’

She reaches over to squeeze Satoru’s hand. The latter was still quiet about it all. The silence continued even after the kids’ excused themselves, having been called back to the school by Nanami.

‘‘Aren’t you going to finish your cake? It’s your favourite, you know?’’

‘‘You know I would never cheat on you right? I was young and dumb and an asshole. And while I can’t take it back or apologise enough, I would never cheat on you.’’

(Y/n) only smiled at that. ‘‘I know. You have changed. You are not that guy anymore. You can’t change your past, but you can change your present self. I’m glad I met your students. They are a joyful bunch. When we have children one day, I hope they will be like them.’’

Satoru grinned, slowly reverting back to his old self. ‘‘I don’t know. I was thinking another me would be perfect.’’

‘‘If our child turns out like you, I’ll fear all my hair will turn as white as yours, dear. Now finish your cake. I want to go and check out that pet store you mentioned.’’

‘‘Right away, vanilla bean!’’

‘‘What did I tell you about nicknames Satoru?!’’

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk gojo

111 notes · View notes

skaylanphear · 3 years

Note

Hi there! Do you have any advice on improving traction towards a fanwork/fic? I love writing—and it's not for notoriety by any means—but having validation and feedback also feels nice (I hope that's not conceited). What would you recommend to someone without a large audience/follower base? I do "advertise" on tumblr when my work is written/updated on AO3. How did your journey start? Thank you!

This is an interesting question and I doubt most people are going to like the answers, but here we go:

So, first and foremost, you need to be realistic about why you're creating in the first place. If you're doing work in a fandom that is older, where content has stopped coming out, or that is simply smaller, you're not going to get much engagement, period. There will, of course, be activity in these fandoms, but it will be far less and the people involved—while they may view your work—will be less likely to comment/spread it around simply because there's not much going on. So if you're creating in that sort of environment (which can be a really good environment if you're looking for something chill with no pressure), then you have to be prepared for low engagement, even if the people you do meet and who are willing to talk about your work are more regularly in your sphere. You can probably make better/closer friends in these sorts of fandoms, if you're willing to try.

But, on the other end of this, if you're coming into a huge fandom late, it's also going to be harder to wade through the massive following to get your stuff out there. For example, in both the Miraculous and Sk8 fandom, I started work pretty early on, when the shows were still gaining traction, and so my "name" as a creator gained traction parallel to that growth, as opposed to when I started writing in the Voltron fandom. With Voltron, I came in super late and so what few fics I had that did gain traction took a lot longer to get there because people already had their fav content creators in the fandom, etc. It's not impossible to get popular in this situation—far from it—but it does take longer.

You'll also benefit from having finished works early on in a fandom's lifespan, at least with writing. This is because there's less competition for views and so more people will be filtered to your work, initially. This means that you have a better chance of getting those comments and kudos. Having a finished work increases this engagement because people look for finished works before works in progress. Generally, the length of a fic doesn't matter much for popularity, so long as it's DONE. When I was writing in the ML fandom, quite a few of my earlier fics were shorter, and they compete in popularity with my longer fics, because people care more about having a finished story, not a long story. That's why when it came to Only Practice Makes Perfect in the Sk8 fandom, I worked hard to get that shit done, because it was the most popular story I had in the fandom and I decided—like an idiot—to make it a long fic. Which, yeah, means people probably love it/remember it more in the long run, but if I hadn't finished it in 2 to 3 months, I'd have lost considerable traction as far as making a name within the fandom.

This leads into one of the most important points, if not THE MOST IMPORTANT point in gaining an audience—consistency. If you do want to be a successful creator, you Have To Be Consistent. This is the most difficult hurdle for all creators, and it is oftentimes impossible to make happen. If you want to aim for professionalism, which a lot of fandom creators don't care about (which is fine), then consistency is how you get there. Nobody wants to read a fic or follow an artist who doesn't stick to creating what they start (RIP all my unfinished works and the people who left me as a result, LOL). Using my most recent works as an example, I very, very, very consistently updated Only Practice Makes Perfect multiple times a week. To the point where people got comfortable expecting it, which is the key variable here. When people become comfortable that you will regularly create content, they not only stick around, but will be more interactive with you and your work. Nobody likes the disappointment of getting involved with a work only for that work to rarely get updates. Most people don't have the attention span to care. I'll admit, if I read a fic that's not finished and the writer takes one week to update, then one week, then THREE weeks, I probably will, like, forget about it. That's just life.

The best thing you can do is schedule. And again, this is the HARDEST thing to do, because it holds the creator to a deadline. Most people who create in fandoms don't want that kind of pressure—and that's fine. I go back and forth on when I have scheduled releases and when I don't, depending on what I'm aiming to do. But if you to retain your audience, telling them that you will update a work regularly on such and such a day and such and such a time, it creates something for them to remember. If they're invested in your work, they will think, "oh, it's Friday, that means such and such is coming out with something new." But, with that in mind, you also have to commit to a schedule that people will remain invested in. Which basically means you can't put things out more than a week away from each other, unless you're really, really famous, lol. If I told people I was going to go on a two week update schedule, I would lose most of my audience. But a week is long enough for people to both still remember and anticipate. That's just how the scheduling of the world works. And if you're an artist that's working on a big project, then you have to share progress, or pieces of what you're doing on a regular basis. That's what generates "buzz" and keeps you relevant. And, yeah, that's a really hard schedule to commit to, because it's a lot of work. BUT this consistency is where you see people being successful. Popular youtubers may not have gained their popularity by being consistent, but most sure do retain it that way. And again, there are outlying exceptions, but they generally ARE exceptions.

Speaking of hard work, here's probably the second hardest thing to accomplish—you have to be prolific. Especially as a writer. You have to write A LOT if you want to gain an audience. And yeah, that means you have to work, a lot. I love my work, so I enjoy that "grind," and I also have developed a lot of strategies to work around writer's block and every other obstacle that tends to catch people up. I work in a very professional manner—I do outlines, and drafts, and plan. I do a lot of stuff that people who do this kind of thing for fun can't be bothered with (and that's fine), but that's because I find it to be what works best in creating an efficient environment. I'm also very, very NOT lazy, lol. I was raised in an environment where you have to work for everything that you want. My parents didn't buy me my first computer, or snowboard, or what have you. We were tight on money and if I wanted something, they couldn't help me—I had to get that shit on my own. And I also grew up on a farm, where hard work was a staple of how you did things. You did things the right way, even if it was the hard way. You can't cut corners and it's the same with this. If you want it, you have to actually do the work, that's it. Some people get lucky with popularity, most don't. Most famous actors didn't become well-known off their first efforts, they had to keep trying and keep working and then they have to continue to do that to stay relevant. So if that doesn't sound great to you, then you might want to not focus on your audience and just create because you enjoy it, lol. Sometimes that's what I do too, when I don't wanna deal with the pressure.

Moving on, here's another point that nobody is going to like. Simply put, you also have to be good at what you do. I think some people don't realize that I've been writing fic for over fifteen years. I currently have nearly 2 millions words worth of fics on AO3 and that doesn't include a majority of the stuff I've ever written. I practice A LOT. I write every day. And I'll tell ya, when I started out in middle school, my stuff was not good. But I worked hard, I ignored the hate, and I kept going. That is the only way you will ever get better at anything. There's no quick way to become a better writer, or artist. And a vast majority of people are only going to pay attention to your stuff if it's quality work. Getting to that point is a process, on top of then creating stuff that fits into popular molds. Not only am I good at what I do (and I don't care how arrogant that sounds—I've worked my ass off), but when it comes to fandoms, I rarely write "rare pairs" and "crack ships." Generally, if it's popular, that's where I am. That makes a big difference and I honestly don't have sympathy for people who write rare pairs and such and then complain about lack of engagement. You knew what you were getting into (it's mostly the Miraculous fandom that gave me this bitterness). If you're not writing what people WANT to read, then your audience is simply going to be smaller. And that audience doesn't owe you their attention, no matter how frustrating it is or how good your work is. I could be the best writer in the world, but if I'm writing RekixCherry fic, I have nobody to blame but myself when nobody reads it. BUT if that's your passion, and writing a certain unpopular thing makes you happy, then, again, you need to not be concerned with traction and your audience.

The last point I'll make is that it matters HOW you present yourself online. A good chunk of the well-known creators in any fandom are, simply put, older people. And those that aren't, and are able to connect with those older creators, have generally created a bubble around themselves of maturity and, like, of being nice, lol. A lot of creators are skittish these days, and if you're an asshole (anti) or fight a lot over stupid shit, you may get a bigger audience, but you will isolate yourself from other creators. And this is important because oftentimes it is your exposure to other creators that will get your work circulating. The reason I got popular in the ML fandom? I wrote a short angst fic and a really popular artist shared it/talked about it and the rest was history. But if I'd had a habit of being an asshole, probably wouldn't have happened. And, granted, I'm not saying don't voice your opinions, but if you're loud all the time, it does turn people off. Especially creators because they are oftentimes the ones being attacked. They don't want to pull more of that negative bullshit into their lives. I'll admit, when I was in the ML fandom, I was down for a fight, but then that's what people came to expect, and it probably did turn others off, and then when I didn't fight, or didn't think the way my audience thought I should, it, again, turned people off. It's really not worth it unless being that type of person IS your platform.

So, that's all the advice I can give, I suppose. And even if you do all this stuff, that still doesn't mean you're going to be popular. At the end of the day, the thing that I stick to is this—I do what I want, I love what I do, and I work hard. If I'm in a position to worry about all that other stuff, then sure, I do, but otherwise… There's no easy way to become popular and, quite frankly, it's better to just "live" working hard and being a decent person than it is to focus on all this bullshit. I've created a working environment where I function within these "points" quite naturally, so it's not something I think about (except for schedules, lol). Sometimes I get popular in fandoms, sometimes I don't. At the end of the day, it comes down to how much work you're willing to do, because you will always be giving more than you are getting back, so you have to at least enjoy what you're doing.

Seriously, just do it because you love it. And if the pressure of everything above is something you don't love (I like a good, high pressure situation, lol), then don't do it that way—it's not worth the grief.

#skaylanphear replies #anonymous

53 notes · View notes

scorlettimagines · 3 years

Text

Lonely Heart: A Nick Scratch Imagine

Request from @flowersichxng: heeey, first of all i just wanted to tell you that I am loving your imagines with the songs from the CALM album, I have to say that your writing is amazing and I loved every one of your imagines (but I'm suspicious in saying that Red Desert is my favorite). I'm not sure if you're still taking requests but I'd love to read a imagine with Lonely Heart or Teeth, because I'm ✨obsessed✨. English is not my first language btw, so I'm sorry if I wrote something wrong.

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Lonely Heart

Your type of mind, so hard to find Native of mine, you're just my kind

“You look amazing, Y/N.” Sabrina smoothed down her own dress as she looked at you in yours. You both had dates for the annual dance at Baxter High, both of you wanting some normality after the chaotic events that had happened over the past few months. Of course, next week, you would return to the Academy, so you savoured the moments of peace.

Your date was picking you up soon. He was perfect, everything a girl could want. You knew a man like him was hard to find, and you two had so much in common.

It only seemed right that you ended up together, and you smiled at the thought of him.

“Thanks, Brina. You too.”

The doorbell rang, and Sabrina beamed before leaving you in your room. You heard voices downstairs, familiar ones of Ambrose and Sabrina’s date. You heard Sabrina rushing downstairs to meet him, heard him compliment her, heard her say, “You should wait until you see Y/N. She looks amazing.”

You heard, “I’m sure she does. But I’m going to the dance with you, and you look stunning, Spellman.” You smiled at that, forcing your heart to slow down.

Your date was perfect, you knew that.

But he wasn’t the man downstairs.

He wasn’t Nick Scratch.

Down on my knees, I'll always follow I promise you until the end of time

“Hey, Nick.” You stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the warlock with his arm linked through Sabrina’s. They really were the perfect couple, and it broke your heart that you had the power to cause them so much pain.

You were in love with Nick Scratch; the worst part was that it wasn’t even something you could fix.

“Hey, Y/N. Spellman was right, you do look amazing.” A blush rose to your cheeks, and you smiled at him before making your way down the stairs. A thought crossed your mind, a thought that allowed you to think about what it would be like if you were walking down those stairs to kiss him.

The thought of following him onto the dance floor and promising to love him until the end of time.

You pushed it away, focusing on the smile on Sabrina’s face as she looked at her boyfriend with adoration. She was your friend and you weren’t going to ruin everything for her. “Not too bad yourself, Nick.”

Seconds that felt like years passed before the doorbell rang. You looked on at the happy couple, so absorbed in each other, before Ambrose announced the arrival of your date. The arrival of the man who was just so perfect for you.

The arrival of the man who wasn’t the person you loved.

Our house on fire, we're burnin' We dance inside, you're hurtin'

You sat at one of the tables, alone, your date having left you after one too many drinks. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, flirting with some other girl.

Apparently he wasn’t as perfect when he was drunk.

Not that you cared, not as you looked at Nick and Sabrina dancing together, so utterly in love. For a moment, you wondered what it would be like to be the one dancing with him. It was a thought that was so wrong, but as you felt your heart burn at the image in your mind, it felt so right.

You knew Nick Scratch better than anyone else in the entire world, knew how damaged he was inside, a kindred spirit to your own really. You wanted to be the one to help him feel joy, knowing that he would help you do the same, but that role belonged to Sabrina, to your friend, and you wouldn’t deny her of it.

The music stopped, signalling the end of the song, and you watched as Nick leaned over and whispered something into Sabrina’s ear. She nodded and took a seat at the table where her mortal friends sat.

Your date was still preoccupied with the other woman.

And now, Nick was walking towards you.

If you leave me in the mornin' I'll have such a—

Nick stopped in front of you and held out his hand. “Care to dance, Y/N?”

“What?”

“Come on.” He smiled, that perfect smile that haunted your dreams, that stayed with you for the rest of the day, never leaving you. “You can’t just stay here for the rest of the night.”

Every part of you was screaming, willing your brain to tell your mouth to speak. To say yes. You knew it was sympathy, knew that Nick was just being the good friend that he was, but part of you couldn’t help but feel that this could be the start of something more, the start to everything you ever wanted. “What about Brina?”

“She’s cool.” Nick looked over at his girlfriend, who waved at the two of you, affection in his eyes which remained as he looked back at you. “Come on Y/N, one dance, and maybe that date of yours will realise that you’re worth sharing the evening with.”

It was like you were in a dream, one that ended with Nick kissing you slowly on the dance floor. But like all dreams, it wasn’t real, and your fantasy ending would leave you, reality coming back in the morning.

Maybe you could live it for a little while.

You took Nick’s hand and he smiled. “There we go.” He led you over to the floor.

Such a lonely heart, oh woah Such a lonely heart, oh woah (Oh woah)

As the music started, you were conscious of one of Nick’s hands on the small of your back, the other in yours, fingers intertwined. You looked up at him, and noticed how deep dark eyes were staring down at you. “How am I doing? Not too bad a dance partner, am I Y/N?”

“No, not too bad at all.”

It was a perfect moment, one that you wanted to live in forever. As Nick swayed with you to the music, you were aware of only him, of the feel of his body against yours, of the way he made your heart soar. It felt as if it were trying to beat out of your chest, to bind itself to Nick’s.

But soon enough, the song would end, and Nick would let go of your hand. Soon enough, your heart would be alone again, leaving you wallowing in self-pity as you continued to fall for someone you couldn’t have. Someone who wasn’t made for you, but who you loved more than anything.

Nick’s hand still on your back, the song came to an end. He paused for a moment, looking at you in a way you had only wished for.

If this was a movie, he would have kissed you, lips on your own.

If this was a movie, you would get your happy ending.

You held your breath.

If you can't find another reason to stay Then I know I'm gonna always have a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely Heart, oh woah (Oh woah) Heart

Nick coughed, seeming to come out of his daze. He had been lost in the moment, you were sure of it, and as Sabrina came back over, you slipped out of his grasp.

You couldn’t have him, no matter how much it hurt to leave him, no matter how much you hated being alone.

You didn’t really focus on any of Sabrina’s words as you watched Nick slide his arm around her waist, eyes still on you, a message hidden within pools of brown. The two of you had shared something special in that dance, but it was something that could never be expressed to the world. Not without people getting hurt.

“Maybe that date of yours will have realised what he’s missing out on.” Nick nodded in your date’s direction, the man in question now looking at you with envy.

“Maybe. Thanks, Nick.”

He smiled. “Anytime, Y/N.”

Your heart stopped as he leant over and placed a single kiss on your cheek. You knew it was a friendly gesture, but you couldn’t help but feel that maybe it was something more. Not that it mattered as another song began to play and Nick swept Sabrina off to the middle of the dance floor.

As you walked over to your date, the man who was supposed to be perfect for you.

The man who wasn’t Nick Scratch.

CALM MASTERLIST

NICK SCRATCH MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

#caos #caos imagine #caos imagines #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina imagine #chilling adventures of sabrina imagines #nick scratch #nick scratch imagine #nick scratch x reader #nick scratch imagines #Nicholas Scratch #nicholas scratch x reader #nicholas scratch imagine #nicholas scratch imagines #gavin leatherwood

135 notes · View notes

kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

Posting Date: July 8th, 6:00 PM CT (UTC/GMT-05:00)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / College!AU / Humor / Smut (as requested in my fundraising initiative for BLM)

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook had messed with you for the last time. That was what you thought when the hockey team – led by the insufferable Jungkook – kicked your dance team out again from your reserved room at the gym. In retaliation, you planned a prank of epic proportions and were caught in the act by none other than Jungkook himself. Before the rift between you could grow any deeper, you accidentally overheard something you were not meant to hear. Something which overshadowed even your heated rivalry. Faced with the choice between obvious wrong and teaming up with your worst enemy – you reluctantly chose the latter. But what will you do when feelings you once thought of as hatred become something decidedly… not?

Estimated WC: 42K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,941

The back of Jeon Jungkook’s head was as infuriating as the rest of him.

In the last row of the classroom, you thought this to yourself while typing into your laptop. Notetaking was part of your official duties as Teacher Assistant for Professor Rosenbarr’s class. This, along with grading homework, proctoring exams, and a variety of other bitchwork.

Despite this, the job of a TA was the best-paying on campus, not to mention that Professor Rosenbarr personally wrote the recommendation which landed your upcoming summer internship. Junior year was stressful enough as it was, with everyone turning twenty-one and realizing with some shock they were halfway through University.

Only one summer remained before entering the real world – everyone you spoke to said that this summer internship was crucial. If there was a blank period between Junior and Senior year of University, you might as well type FUCKED AROUND in the blank section of your resume and be done with it. No, this TA role was worth all the bitchwork, if only because it directly led to your upcoming internship.

The presence of Jungkook in your class though, had you seriously considering the merits of quitting.

Glowering at his messy head three rows before you, you wondered if he had even bothered to shower before coming to class. Probably not, based on the state of his hair and clothes. Both were rumpled, with wrinkles permanently stamped into the fabric of his hoodie. You were so consumed by the state of his appearance that when he stretched, turning around, there was no time to look away.

Jungkook’s eyes locked with yours and he blinked, taken aback by your staring. While you watched, his gaze narrowed.

See something you like? he mouthed over the heads of the people between you.

Stomach plummeting, your gaze snapped back to the screen of your laptop. After a long moment of pause, you slowly looked up and found him still looking. Most infuriating of all was the smirk on his lips, as though you had acted exactly as he predicted.

Once again, you remembered why Jungkook was the worst. It gave him no small amount of pleasure to see you embarrassed. Just as it made your own stomach leap to see his brow furrowed with frustration, lips pressed together as he huffed in annoyance.

The two of you had been at each other’s throats since freshman year, a feud of such epic proportion, it was difficult to remember how it had begun. All you knew was that by now, too much blood had been spilled for you to ever go back. Jungkook hated you and you hated him. That much was certain.

Still looking at you, Jungkook arched a brow.

In response to this, you scowled. Pay attention, you mouthed, gesturing at the board.

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder.

Professor Rosenbarr was so absorbed in his lecture, you doubt he would have noticed if the fire alarm and sprinklers went off. There was a zone he reached while lecturing about statistical anomalies in economic theory which not even you could pull him out of.

More importantly, he definitely did not notice Jungkook’s lack of attention. A girl in the front row was buffing her nails, the guy behind her was paying a bill and the guy to his right was scrolling through Tumblr.

At least Jungkook had his notes open, even if he was not looking at the board.

Making a face in his direction, you shooed a hand forward. With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook finally got the hint and turned around to face front. Pulling his hoodie overhead, he slumped low in his seat.

Unable to stop yourself, you let out a sigh.

The girl next to you frowned. “Shh,” she said.

“Sorry,” you whispered, sinking even lower.

While stewing in your own embarrassment, a ping sounded from your laptop. Looking down, you scowled again at the familiar email address.

From: [email protected]

To: y/[email protected]

Subject: hey TA

Aren’t you supposed to be grading us? Maybe you should pay more attention to the lecture & less to the back of my head

Fury clouding your gaze, it made it difficult to see as you typed.

From: y/[email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: re: hey TA

Maybe if your head weren’t so big, I would be able to see the slides

Pressing send, you looked up and waited for him to respond. From the last row of class, you watched Jungkook open your email, snort and bend forward.

Professor Rosenbarr cleared his throat from the front of the room.

“Something amusing about economic theory, Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook’s head snapped up; a deer caught in headlights. “Um. No, sir.”

The Professor arched a brow. “While I appreciate your formal language, perhaps you could extend the same respect to your dress code next class. Hood down,” he said, pointedly glancing at Jungkook’s large sweatshirt.

Dejectedly, Jungkook reached up to lower his hood.

Even from your seat, you could see his ears were bright red. A small pang of sympathy went through you before reminding yourself he deserved it. Jungkook should have been paying attention – just like you should have.

Bending forward, you resumed taking notes. Professor Rosenbarr continued his lecture, the class returned normalcy but still, Jungkook failed to respond to your email.

This did not surprise you. Jungkook had always been flaky – one of the many reasons you two did not get along. You preferred things orderly, with everyone following an agreed set of rules and Jungkook had his own expectations.

A message appeared in the corner of your screen. For a moment, your heart skipped and then you realized it was only your groupchat with Seokjin and Gina, your two best friends.

Seokjin: Y/N, stop ignoring meee [10:41 AM]

Gina: lol Seokjin, she’s teaching [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: she’s not the one teaching. Rosenblah is [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: Y/N, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! [10:41 AM]

Y/N: his name is Rosenbarr, Seokjin. What’s the emergency? [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: finally [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: there’s a party this weekend. You in? [10:42 AM]

Gina: what night? [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: Saturday [10:42 AM]

Gina: okay, cool [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: why? What’re you doing Friday? [10:42 AM]

Gina: nothing [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: so, why did you – oh, never mind. Y/N, you in? [10:42 AM]

Y/N: this was the emergency? [10:42 AM]

Y/N: who’s throwing the party? [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: um. A friend [10:42 AM]

Y/N: Seokjin [10:43 AM]

Seokjin: okay, fine, the friend is Taehyung & the party is at hockey house. But Y/N, listen to me [10:43 AM]

Y/N: pass [10:43 AM]

Gina: lol Seokjin, you had to have known that would fail [10:43 AM]

Seokjin: I was hoping that by Junior year, we would have all become rational and mature human beings [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: aka, this feud you have with Jungkook is stupid, Y/N [10:44 AM]

Gina: *gasps* he said the name! [10:44 AM]

Gina: a plague upon your house, Seokjin! [10:44 AM]

Y/N: listen. While yes, I am a rational and mature human being [10:44 AM]

Y/N: his royal douchebaggery is not [10:44 AM]

Y/N: ergo, your wish was doomed to fail, Seokjin [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: sigh [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: well, do you at least want to get pizza with Gina and I after? [10:44 AM]

Y/N: that, I can do [10:45 AM]

Seokjin: okay, fine. It’s a plan [10:45 AM]

“We’ll pick up at the same place on Wednesday,” said Professor Rosenbarr, interrupting your train of thought. Head jerking up, your fingers fell from the keys. “Please read Chapter 4 of the textbook before then and complete the assignment online.”

As soon as he stopped, the class began to pack up, shoving books into backpacks and standing from their seats.

Rereading your notes, you struggled to recall who had last asked a question. Professor Rosenbarr liked to have that information to grant class participation points, but the conversation with Jungkook had thrown you off your game.

Before you could ask someone around you, a shadow fell over your desk. Looking up, you found Jungkook in the aisle, thumbs hooked lazily beneath the straps of his backpack.

Frowning, you glanced past. “You’re blocking the aisle,” you announced, shutting your laptop. Shoving this in your bag, you attempted to stand and found him still standing there. “Not to mention my way out of class.”

“Just came to see if you needed my notes,” Jungkook said, nonchalant. “You seemed pretty distracted.”

Glancing at him, you scowled. “I’m the TA here, not you, Jeon.”

“I know.” His smile widened and you repressed the sudden desire to smack it from his face. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were staring at me.”

“The only reason I was staring at you was because you look like you haven’t showered in days. Is the hockey team really that hard-up for wins? Resorted to repulsing the competition?”

Instantly, his smile disappeared.

Jungkook had recently been made Captain of the University hockey team and it was an endless source of gossip on campus, since usually only Seniors held the coveted title. Word on the street was Jungkook was just that good – or, the hockey team was that bad.

“I showered after practice,” he said, a bit sulky. “And we’re not that bad this year.”

Despite his words, the furrow between his brow deepened and Jungkook aimlessly shoved a hand through his hair. His fingers instantly became tangled, fighting a minute before he worked through.

Staring at him for a moment, you eventually blinked and tore free.

“Whatever,” you said, glancing past him. “Let me leave.”

Professor Rosenbarr was long gone, but he would expect your notes in his office by the end of day. You still needed to format them the way that he preferred, review them for errors and find the name of the last person who spoke.

Jungkook stepped aside and, pushing past him, you entered the aisle. As you climbed the steps, you heard him follow suit. The impending deadline began to weigh on you and – against all better judgement – you turned around.

“Hey,” you exhaled, coming to a stop on the last step.

Jungkook looked up. “What?”

“Did you… hear who asked the last question in class?”

Surprise flickered over his features, though he quickly composed them. “Uh, it was Nelson.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

You lingered for a moment, then turned around and left the room. Shoving open the door to the hall, you did not bother to wait for him to exit. Disappearing into the crowd, you kept your head low and placed distance between you. He had been startled into being nice to you, but you knew from experience this would not last for long.

Jungkook always found a way to have the last word.

Your theory was proven as soon as you entered the quad, phone dinging loudly to announce a new email. Sliding open the app, you finally found his response to your message.

From: [email protected]

To: y/[email protected]

Subject: re: re: hey TA

If you’re still wondering how clean my body is, feel free inspect it yourself. Hate to leave that kind of doubt on your conscience xx

Swallowing, your fingers hovered over the delete button before you gave up and shoved your phone in your pocket. You would not allow Jungkook to get under your skin so easily.

Such a feat was easier said than done, however. Jungkook had nearly two years of practice at pushing your buttons. By this point, you thought he might know your ticks better than your best friends. All it took was a well-placed wink from him to make your blood boil.

Still – you would figure out a way to get Jungkook back. You always did.

After all, you had two years of experience at pressing his buttons as well.

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

Follow my writing / editing process on my Updates Schedule

#preview #The Art of More

1K notes · View notes

supercantaloupe · 4 years

Text

on Aelwyn Abernant, the Reformed Villain Squad, and redeeming teenage antagonists

an analysis on antagonist character development in Fantasy High. spoilers through sophomore year and (mildly so) the most recent roll20 oneshot. essay under the cut bc i am very long winded

the turnaround with Aelwyn in s2 is handled so well i cant get over it. she was such a major antagonist in the first season and just. despicable. she had no pathos. we hated this bitchy older sister who tried to kill Adaine and her friends and raise an evil dragon, and when she gets knocked on her ass and thrown in jail, we cheer.

and then s2 fucking starts saying “hey she’s in jail still if you’d like to look into that” and pursuing that thread ends up being almost as comedic an idea as it is a reluctant one; it’s also quickly shunted to the background as soon as more pressing leads present themselves, to the point where we almost forget about her until Adaine is kidnapped and then the first time you see her it’s just. viscerally upsetting.

she’s bad. she did evil. she got what she deserved.

but she already got what she deserved. last season.

she got her ass handed to her by a bunch of 14 year olds including her little sister (how embarrassing!). her plans were thwarted. she got punched in the face and made fun of. she already got her punishment.

it just……immediately registers as over-the-top Wrong to be told “hey, remember that antagonist you beat last season? she’s still being punished for that, except it’s way worse than just going to mumple.”

and there’s that reminder that like…this is a teenager. a child. who has been manipulated and abused. which is a really fascinating look at this character we used to see pretty much unilaterally as a one dimensional bitchy villain.

i mean we got a more in depth look at Penelope’s and Biz’s motivations in s1 (Penelope being the popular rich girl sorceress obviously hungry for power and the alllure of the high school clout that is being prom queen, but also we know that her having to turn on her best friend Sam Nightingale as part of the scheme was something she was reluctant and not happy to do; and Biz being that predatory incel creeper type dude besides just a nerd with computers and a lack of social graces). and they were as much willingly active in the plot as Aelwyn was. yet in s1 they really never do bother to explore Aelwyn’s motivations. i remember after watching s1 but before s2 that was one of my biggest lingering questions: why tf was Aelwyn involved?

well. she was manipulated and abused. her terrible parents raised her in an awful environment that conditioned her to Listen and Obey and Behave and Be Perfect, and then Kalina helped cinch the noose around her neck with threats and coersion into the KVS Kaper and the NMK crown debacle. she doesn’t freely choose any of it; she’s coerced, manipulated, abused.

and she already got justifiably punished for her bad actions in s1. the torture is almost literal overkill. it’s just……there’s this immediate turnaround in sympathy and view of the character. on first watch, it’s viscerally upsetting to see her getting so brutally punished for actions she already faced consequences for, and on rewatch, it makes your skin crawl to know she’s being tortured for terrible things she had little choice in carrying out. and tortured by some of the very same people who coerced her to behave terribly in the first place, to add insult to injury.

and it’s still fucking frustrating when they rescue her and her memory gets reset and she goes back to her parents because it’s like “well shit, she’s evil again, and we just wasted all that effort for nothing” but it’s also sad cause we know she’s running back to her abusers and she isn’t happy about it but doesn’t feel like she has a choice. and it’s sadder still that what eventually inevitably gets her to turn to good for good (i.e. away from her parents) is just. a full dissociative mental breakdown.

(but then she survives and it’s gonna be good!!! until Adaine dies in her fucking arms. which is. almost funny. she’s been through so much shit and that isn’t something that Brennan would have just. preplanned. like a written in plot point. no, that was just an unpredictable consequence of the battle. what a juicy fucking moment. she’s been through All That Shit™️ and has finally turned to fight for good and her sister just fully dies in front of her. yeowch)

and she turns out okay in the end. she comes out the other side alive and whole and supported by her sister and her friends, with the hope of a future and recovery. there is an acknowledgement that A) she can and will grow from her mistakes and damage, B) it’s going to be really hard, and C) the post-s2 one shots both prove that she’s doing okay now. hell, she has a whole squad now of other former-teenage-villains-turned-good-guys. she has friends now, Ragh and Zayn, with common ground, and a secret handshake and everything. they’ve all grown from the mistakes of their past into better, happier, healthier people

and about Zayn and Ragh. we’ve seen a lot of characters, protagonist and antagonist, teenage and adult, PC and NPC do some really fucked up shit and get punished for it. but why do they get happy endings? why are Aelwyn, Ragh, and Zayn the only members of the RVS and not someone else like Biz or Penelope or Dayne?

well, the latter two are dead by then; but then again, Biz and Ragh were also killed by the Bad Kids in s1, and subsequently resurrected. (Zayn died too, but was neither killed nor revived at the Bad Kids’ hands, so i’ll get to him in a sec.) and there are plenty of adult antagonists the Bad Kids face who are killed and left that way by the Bad Kids without second thought: Johnny Spells, Coach Daybreak, Captain Wicklaw, the Abernant parents (presuming Arianwen doesn’t survive in the forest for very long, which i doubt). why do some characters get second chances while others don’t?

in the case of Zayn, his death was pretty much out of the Bad Kids’ hands, and they later found out he was manipulated by Daybreak into being bad anyway because of his sad living situation. he was a pretty minor antagonist in the scheme of things, and when we re-meet him as a ghost in the s1 epilogue, he’s pretty obviously remorseful for his actions. and dying seems like a steep enough punishment to me for the shit he did to contribute to the KVX caper; returning as a ghost, free from the trappings of his unfortunate living life, he now has the room and freedom to grow into a better person.

in the cases of Daybreak, Spells, Wicklaw, and the Abernant parents: these are bad people who should know better. these are fully grown adults who actively choose to do evil. whether they think it’s the right thing to do or not (in Daybreak’s case), whether they think it will benefit them and don’t care about anyone else (in the Abernants’ case), or whether they don’t care much at all and are just doing shit because they feel like it (in the cases of Spells and Wicklaw), these are all adults who consciously make the decision to do terrible things and hurt other people. of course Johnny Spells, who is generally a punk thief and thug, is not on the same level of bad as Angwyn, who kidnaps and tortures his own daughters for political gain, but the point remains. these fuckers should know better. they’re grown ups. they had their chances to be good and they chose not to heed them. their minds are set on bad actions and they are a continued danger to other people as long as they are alive. when they die, the Bad Kids do their damndest to make sure it stays that way.

now, in the cases of Penelope and Dayne: these are teenagers who actively chose to participate in an evil plot. Penelope, Dayne, and Biz were all fully cognizant of what they were doing trying to raise KVX back to his former power. why? well, to some extent, we can only speculate. i suspect Penelope was just one of those Regina George bitches who is rich and popular and powerful and obsessed with power and popularity within high school as if that’s the end-all-be-all of existence (which, like, when you’re currently in high school, is a somewhat understandable worldview i think). Dayne being her boyfriend and a musclehead jock probably falls into a similar line of thinking. they are actively and willingly trying to cause harm, and teenager or not, must be stopped. they’re killed, anyway, during the Climactic Battle™️ anyhow; it’s not like the Bad Kids were going to gain anything at that point by keeping them alive.

now, Biz: Biz is the creepy Nice Guy incel type, sees woman as a prize he deserves to win, yadda yadda. he does, like Penelope and Dayne, actively choose to help KVX. there might be something to be said about his motivation the Bad Kids discover after the arcade battle by detecting his thoughts (that being to upload the captured maidens from the palimpsests to “call the shots” himself) is an altered memory; whether this was his original motivation from the start or not, i’m not sure. but the Bad Kids do kill him – and then resurrect him for important, time-sensitive information. and they beat it out of him – he gets two of his fucking fingers blown off. and Riz reattaches them once they have their info, and they realize his memory is altered. of course, the Bad Kids don’t know at this point that the altered memory was something he, Penelope, and Aelwyn had planned and agreed on and done to themselves, but this points to something important in my opinion: the Bad Kids, and the narrative/show as a whole by extension, acknowledge that external manipulation affects how guilty someone is in a crime.

which brings us to Ragh. Ragh, introduced from episode 1 as the meathead jock. Ragh the archetypical one-dimensional high school bully. Ragh who works with the harvestmen in effort to (ostensibly) end the world/provoke international war. Ragh, whose low intelligence but high loyalty and internalized homophobia led him to be fully swayed and blindly led by his coach and captain, who have actively chosen to do evil. Ragh who is killed in combat by the Bad Kids and resurrected for information, not Daybreak. Ragh, who the Bad Kids realize was probably not aware of exactly what he was being made to do and how bad it really was. Ragh, who by their kindness in sparing his life and directing him on a better path, becomes a well-rounded character and an active ally to the Bad Kids during and after prom, an invaluable companion during their quest in sophomore year, and overall a really good friend and person.

(it might also be worth considering the case of Jawbone here, too, who started out a very minor antagonist in a fight but ended up becoming a major NPC because the Bad Kids talked to him, found out he came from an unfortunate situation and set of circumstances, and showed him kindness in offering the school guidance counselor position, a kindness that isn’t really owed but given anyway and ends up changing his entire life for good.)

and then, Aelwyn, whose case is already discussed above. so, why is the RVS what it is, why them but not others?

if you’re familiar with Avatar: the Last Airbender, you’re probably familiar with Zuko’s character arc, and how it’s often lauded as a masterful example of developing a villain into a hero over the course of a narrative. what makes Zuko’s arc so well done and exceptional is that he starts out as a kid in a bad situation under the influence of bad adults seeking to do bad deeds, but he later realizes the error of those ways, actively removes himself from that situation despite the difficulty and danger in doing so, goes through a lot of shit and reflects on his past mistakes and learns from them, and then actively chooses to fight for good in the end with the help of close, trusted friends, found family.

this, i believe, is the same in the case of Fantasy High and its treatment of the RVS. its members, like Zuko, are all teenagers who came from shitty situations and were manipulated by evil adults to do bad. they are punished for their bad actions, and they learn from their errors and mistakes. with the kindness and help of good people, friends and chosen family, they are able to escape their abusers and bad situations and grow into their own people. and they actively choose to improve themselves with that help and fight for good.

Fantasy High, through the arcs of Jawbone, Zayn, Ragh, and especially Aelwyn, asserts that it is not your fault if you come from a bad situation and are forced to behave badly as a result. it does not pretend that you are absolved of any responsibility for those actions; quite the opposite, as even though they were externally manipulated into their evil actions, all of those mentioned characters face tangible consequences for their actions and later express remorse for their mistakes. but Fantasy High also asserts that even if you have made great mistakes in your past, even if you came from a bad situation beyond your control, even if you were manipulated and abused, with care and love and support and a hell of a lot of work and effort, you can improve your situation and find good, happiness, peace, you can thrive. evil adults who should know better don’t get redeemed. teenagers who aren’t coerced but actively choose evil don’t get redeemed. but abused kids deserve another shot at happiness. with enough work, and some love and help along the way, they can get there, even from the lowest imaginable point, from rock fucking buttom. it’s possible.

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 live #dimension 20 #fantasy high sophomore year #fantasy high freshman year #d20 #dimension 20 live spoilers #brennan lee mulligan #aelwyn abernant #zayn darkshadow #ragh barkrock #sasha reviews #hello tumblr. tonight i bring you a 2.3k word essay. tomorrow? who knows #i'll just throw myself into the nearest river if this doesn't show up in the tags this is fine #this one's for y'all in my notes i see u and i love u here's some content #the first half of this is mostly copy pasted from my discord ramblings #i didnt intend for this to be as long as it got but yknow. i never do and it always is #so thats why the first part of this is written differently from the rest of it lol

312 notes · View notes

albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

Realised Too Late - Part 1

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Frankie since high school and you’ve harboured a secret that whole time that has eaten you alive. You’re in love with him. You know he only sees you as Arce (Maple), the nickname he gave you on your first day. You're just his Canadian friend, never anything more. When his life takes a series of different turns, however, you're there to support him through it but how long can you do that before it just hurts too much?

Warnings: Drug abuse, alcohol, depression, overdose, language, Angst, Smut 18+

Pairings: Frankie Morales x Reader - Ben Miller x Reader

Notes: There are some tough subjects in this one so if you're easily triggered by warnings above, don't read. This will be in three parts.

He was a shell of the man you’d known as kids, the army having stripped him of his soul and leaving him limp and boneless. You hadn’t been surprised when he’d turned to drugs for relief, he was an addict. As kids, he was addicted to exercise, constantly dragging you on hikes or to swimming events that left him buzzing after. During his time in the army, he was addicted to danger, unable to just sit on the sidelines when his brothers were out there risking their lives. When he’d retired he’d struggled. He was evicted from his flat after his last job, the neighbours complaining about the noise, the screaming as he was plagued by nightmares of the things he’d seen and done, they didn’t care he was ex-military. Or that his girlfriend had left him. So you had taken him in, held him at night as he sobbed and did everything you could to help him get better.

At first, you’d not realised that the change in him was because of the coke. He’d been happy, positive, bubbly. He’d returned to the Frankie you once knew. You’d been over the moon at his progress, happy that you’d pushed him to attend counselling and he’d sold it to you so well, made you believe he was going but he wasn’t. No, he was driving to a bar where he had a beer, sniffed some coke in the bathroom and left, returning to you with a new story to sell his lie.

You’d found the bag of powder whilst doing the washing. You’d known instantly what it was and you’d broken down immediately, unable to believe that he’d do that stuff after what he knew. What it had done to your family. He’d found you sobbing on the floor, clutching your stomach and he’d dropped to your side in an instant, pulling you into his arms.

‘Arce, what’s wrong?’ He’d pleaded and your tears had stopped almost immediately, sorrow replaced with pure burning anger that you’d never felt before.

‘You lied to me.’ You’d growled, pushing away ‘You haven’t been going to counselling have you?’

‘I have.’

‘If you continue to lie to me I swear I will kick the shit out of you.’ You'd spat, getting to your feet with that bag clutched tightly in your hand ‘This is the real reason you’ve been -happier- isn’t it Francisco?’ You continued, holding out your hand and revealing the bag that sat on your palm ‘How could you?’ You’d sobbed ‘After what I’ve been through… How could you resort to this as a fix?’

Frankie had knelt there gobsmacked, unsure of what to do or say to you. He'd not even thought about you when he’d been offered the substance the first time, he’d just focused on the fact he’d been told it would help… and it had.

‘Arce I’m so sorry.’ He’d sobbed ‘I just needed the pain to stop. He’d told me it would stop and it did.’

‘But Frankie. This shit ruins lives.’ You said, your tone changing to one with more sympathy ‘Look what it did to my family.’

Your brother had gotten hooked on the stuff after his relationship had fallen apart. His wife had left him, taking the baby with her and he’d lost it. Turning to drink and drugs to dull the pain. He’d managed to hide it well, no one ever suspecting him. One fateful day however the truth had been revealed most tragically. It had been your birthday and Frankie had organised a surprise party for you at his. Your brother had been tasked to pick up and bring your parents over but he’d taken just a little too much before getting behind the wheel. They had never stood a chance. His car was t-boned by a truck when he’d jumped a red light, everyone dying on impact. When you’d arrived at Frankie’s you’d been over the moon to see his place decorated with balloons and streamers, your friends all stood there waiting for you but his face had ripped that happiness away. He’d walked up to you, everyone else remaining where they were and he placed a hand on each arm, bracing you for what was to come and as the words left his mouth you'd passed out, falling limply into his arms.

He’d supported you through it all. The funeral. Sorting through your parent's stuff. You’d considered selling their house but he’d convinced you not to.

‘Don’t you want your kids to grow up here?’ He’d said ‘You have a story about every inch of this house. Don’t sell those stories to someone else.’

So you’d kept it. Moved in and worked on modernising it without ripping out its soul, keeping the memory of your family alive within its walls.

‘You need to stop this Frankie.’ You’d stated, snatching the powder out of sight ‘I will help you but you have to promise me no more lies.’ You’d continued, noting the relief that had flooded his expression ‘You lie to me Frankie and that’s it. You’re out.’

‘Of course.’ He’d replied, nodding hastily as his tears tracked down his cheeks ‘No more lies… I promise.’

He’d kept his promise. He actually attended counselling, his shrink calling each time to confirm he’d visited. He wasn’t aware that they did it, you’d asked them to keep it between the two of you but you’d needed some sort of confirmation that he really was trying to help himself. The nightmares had returned but after a while, they became less frequent along with the panic attacks at loud sounds. He was doing so much better and you were so proud of him. He’d then started to attend AA meetings, finding them useful. You’d gone along to the first few with him on his request but as his confidence had grown he started attending alone and that’s how he’d met her.

Lucy.

She was nice enough. She’d been hooked on coke too after leaving the army so they’d connected in a way that a lot of the other members never could. Their romance had been fast-paced and it killed you. You were happy he had someone, of course, you were… You were just devastated that it wasn’t you.

‘So Lucy’s having a few friends over on Friday. She wondered if you wanted to join?’ He asked as he sipped at his coffee ‘She’s desperate to get to know you.’

‘You talk about me with her?’ You asked, raising your brows as little in surprise.

‘Of course, I do.’ He replied, giving your a bemused expression ‘You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I?’

You shrugged, sipping at your coffee as you looked at anything but him, desperate to hide your heartbreak from him. He didn’t notice, just continued to speak as he supped at his black coffee, oblivious to your pain.

‘So will you come?’ He asked with hopeful eyes.

‘Sure.’ You reply, praying something comes up that means you can’t go.

Nothing does.

‘So you’re the famous Arce?’ She asked, shaking your hand when Frankie brought you over.

‘That I am.’ You replied, smiling sheepishly at her.

‘Frankie’s told me all about you.’ She stated, giving you a warm smile ‘You’ve been quite a friend to him.’ She stated ‘Especially with his coke addiction. Most people who have been through what you have would have run a mile. He’s lucky to have you.’

You give her a small nod but inside you’re screaming. She thanks you for coming and apologises for having to go, food needs to be checked. As soon as she leaves you turn and walk to the door, tears streaming down your cheeks.

‘Hey whoah! Where are you going? What’s the matter?’ Asked Frankie as he grabbed your shoulders and stopped you in your tracks ‘Why are you crying?’

‘Fuck you, Frankie.’ Was your reply before you shrugged out of his grip and left, ignoring him as he called after you.

You ignored his calls and texts as you laid there curled up on your couch, praying that he'd choose to stay with her that night but you didn’t get such luck. He walked through the door a little after 1 in the morning, toeing off his shoes and hanging his coat and cap up before stepping quietly into the house. He heard your silent cries and found you curled up on the couch, an empty bottle of wine laying on the floor in front of you.

‘Lucy was really upset that you left.’ He stated, his tone angry ‘That was really rude.’

‘Get out.’ Was your reply, barely above a whisper.

‘What the fuck is your problem?’ he growled, his patience spent ‘She was nothing but nice to you and then you just fucking leave.’

‘She isn't the reason I left.’ You spat, venom dripping from every word as you sat up and glared at him ‘You’re the reason I left.’

‘Me?’ He questioned, pointing at his chest ‘The fuck did I do?’

‘You had no right to tell her.’ You growled ‘You had no right…’ You trailed off, feeling more tears threatening to spill.

‘Tell her what?’

‘You know what Frankie.’ You yelled, scrapping a hand over your tear-stained face ‘There are a handful of people that know the truth about how they died. I choose who I tell, not you.’

‘Arce-.’

‘I’m going to bed.’ You interrupted, getting up from the couch and heading upstairs, leaving a guilty Frankie in your wake.

He didn’t come home for a few days after that evening. You assumed he was trying to give you some space but you didn’t care, you were just too hurt. When he did come back you saw something different in him, something had changed and not for the better. He was withdrawn, quiet. Spending more time in his room or under the hood of his truck than anywhere else and you found yourself worrying about him despite the anger you still felt towards him.

‘Frank, what’s going on with you?’

‘Surprised you care.’ He snarled, pushing his food around his plate with his fork.

‘Fuck you, Francisco. Of course, I care.’ You spat, slapping the table with your hand and making him jump.

You weren’t expecting him to cry.

‘She’s pregnant.’ He said, taking you by surprise.

‘And you’re not happy? You’ve always wanted kids… what changed?’ You asked, your confusion evident.

‘I do want kids.’ He replied, lip trembling ‘She doesn’t.’ He continued ‘She’s booked herself in for a termination next week.’

‘What?’ Your heart shatters ‘Did she even consult you?’

He simply shook his head and you felt your anger bubbling beneath the surface again.

‘I was over the moon when she told me.’ He affirmed, pushing his place away and leaning back in his chair ‘I practically sobbed with joy but then she told me that she was terminating it. Said she’d never wanted kids and that it was the best thing. No kid deserves two junkie parents.’

‘But you’re clean… Aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He replied, slightly exasperated ‘And I would do everything in my power to remain clean for that kid.’ He paused, sniffing as he wiped away his tears ‘I begged her to reconsider but she refused. Said that if I couldn’t support her decision then she didn’t want to be with me.’

‘Frank-.’

‘I thought this was it.’ He stated ‘I thought I’d finally found someone I could be myself with, raise kids with.’ His works sting more than he’ll ever know ‘I didn’t think after… After them that I’d ever get a chance to be a dad. I guess I never will.’

You have to push your pain to one side and comfort him. He and his ex had been expecting, he’d been so excited but after Santi had dragged him on a job in South America that had resulted in the death of his commanding officer and them all leaving empty-handed, he’d returned to learn that she’d lost it and left him. You were sure that had contributed towards his downward spiral into drugs, little did you know, he’d had a problem before that. He’d hidden it so well for so long.

‘Frankie I know you’re destined to be a dad.’ You said softly, taking your hands in his ‘You’ll find the right woman one day.’

‘I haven't left her.’ He said suddenly ‘I love Lucy. I just need some time to grieve the baby.’

‘Frank-.’

‘I love her Arce.’ He stated ‘We can work past this.’

You leave at that.

You cried yourself to sleep when he’d moved in with her. You’d helped him pack, drove boxes over to her in your car but you’d hadn’t stayed when they invited you in, unable to bear being around him a moment longer. After that, you ignored his attempts to contact you. Didn’t answer the door when he came knocking. You just let yourself fall into a dark depression, one you didn't think you’d ever recover from and you didn’t expect Benny to be the one that pulled you out of it.

‘What’s going on sweetheart?’ He asked, holding you as you sob into his chest.

‘I’m just so alone.’ You sobbed ‘I’m the plain friend that everyone relies on but no one loves. God, I’ve not been asked on a date in years. My life is a mess and now Frank’s gone and I’m all on my own.’

‘You’re gorgeous babe.’ He said, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head ‘Anyone would be lucky to have you on their arm.’

‘You don’t need to be nice to me Benny.’ You chuckle, pulling away from his now tear-stained chest to look at him ‘I know I’m not desirable. I never have been.’

Ben looked at you with a troubled expression, unable to believe that someone so beautiful could be so neglected and feel so unappreciated. He’d had a thing for you since Frankie had first introduced you to them all but he’d never acted on it. You were Frank’s best friend after all. You were off-limits.

‘You’re one of the most beautiful women I know.’ He stated, tucking some of your stray hair behind your ear ‘You deserve the world.’

You stared at each other for a moment, your eyes dropped to his lips and his gaze followed suit. The air shifted as he cupped your cheek with his large hand, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as your eyes locked with each others' again. Then he leaned in and he kissed you, smiling when you gasped in surprise.

It was soft at first, chaste but as you shifted closer to him, legs straddling his lap, he deepened it and you moaned as your tongues dance. It was then a blur of touches, moans and the removal of clothes but the next moment you were truly aware of was him sheathing himself inside of you, kissing you sweetly as you gasped at the stretch.

‘You okay?’ He asked softly, blue eyes searching for anything that told him you didn’t want this but you simply nodded and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

‘Move please.’ You begged ‘Fuck me, Benny…. Please.’

That's all the permission he needed and he started to cant his hips, pushing himself as deep as he could go before withdrawing and slamming back. His pace was slow at first, unhurried, but as your moans grew filthier and filthier he sped up his thrusts, hitting that sweet spot with every movement.

‘Fuck I’m gonna cum.’ You whined, nails digging into the muscles on his back and it spurred him on ‘Fuck…’

‘Let go.’ He growled against the shell of your ear and you did.

You screamed as he made you cum hard, dragging him right along with you and after a few more thrusts to prolong your high’s he collapsed on the couch beside you, kissing you languidly as he stroked your cheek.

‘Let me take you out.’ He said, bumping your nose with his.

‘Okay.’ You replied, grinning at him as you kissed him again and wrapped your hand around his length, pumping him lazily ‘But first, we’re doing that again.’

‘You’re bringing your girlfriend to guys night?’ Questioned Will as he sipped from his beer.

‘I’m crazy about her boys.’ He replied, smiling like a loon as he thought about you.

You’d fucked twice more that night before you’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, the sex that following morning being the best of all. That evening he took you to dinner and then again the day after that and you quickly fell into a relationship that had you feeling happier than you'd ever been. You’d both decided to keep it a secret at first, just take each day as it came but after being together for 4 months you decided that it was time to reveal to the boys but you were scared of how Frankie would react. The two of you hadn’t spoken much after he’d moved out.

‘Fine but if you’re bringing your squeeze then Fish should bring Lucy. Not fair for the poor girl to sit with three guys all night.’

‘Fish? Think Lu would come?’ Asked Benny, eyes wide and eager.

‘Don’t see why not.’ He replied with a shrug ‘She’s wanted to come out with us for ages so…’

‘Great then that's settled.’ Replied Ben, beaming as he sipped his beer.

He just hoped Lu’s presence would take away from the fact his girlfriend was you.

You sat in the booth, clinging to Ben’s hand for dear life. Your heart was pulsing in your throat, hands shaking as you watched the door for the others to arrive. Will had texted to say he’d be about an hour late but Frankie had confirmed he was running on time. You'd both decided to arrive a little early to get a round in, a little liquid courage you'd supposed. When Frankie walked in, Lucy behind him you felt your stomach twist in knots.

‘Sorry, we’re a little late.’ He said, not looking up as he shoved his keys in his pocket ‘Traffic was crazy…' He trailed off as he looked up, seeing you at Ben’s side ‘What are you doing here? Where's your girlfriend Ben?’

Ben simply put his arm around your shoulders, smiling at Frankie nervously and giving your hand under the table a squeeze.

‘You two?’ He question, motioning between you both with his pointer finger ‘You two are together?’

‘Yes.’ You replied simply, unable to hide the wobble in your voice.

‘Are you fucking serious?’

‘Fish-.’

‘My best friend Ben… Really?’

‘I’m crazy about her man.’ He stated ‘We kept it quiet because we were scared to tell you but we’ve been dating for coming up to five months so we felt it was time you knew.’

‘I managed to get away early. Boss was… wha-‘ Will’s mouth dropped open when he saw his brother’s arm around your shoulders ‘You two?’

‘Yes us two.’ Growled Ben ‘We’ve been dating for almost five months, things are amazing and we thought it was time to make it public.’ He finished, rolling his eyes.

Frankie was glued to the spot, hands shaking as he stared at Ben’s arm around you and h.e felt something he’d not experienced before with you. Jealousy... and he wanted nothing more than to rip Ben off of you and pull you into his arms.

‘Babe?’ Piped up Lucy as she tugged on his sleeve ‘You want a beer?’

‘Uh - Yeah…’ He replied, shaking his head before slipping down onto the bench beside him ‘Thanks, baby.’

She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek and made her way to the bar, leaving him to return to staring at you and Ben.

‘Well, I for one am over the moon for you both.’ Said Will, grinning ‘You look really good together.’

‘Going to make beautiful babies.’ Ben joked and Frankie felt his stomach drop, noting the glint in your eyes as you beamed at the younger Miller.

‘Bit soon isn’t it?’ Boomed Will, letting out a breath chuckle.

‘Nothing wrong with thinking about the future.’ You stated, sticking your tongue out at Will before turning your head towards Ben and kissing him sweetly.

Frankie wanted to leave. He didn't want to stay here and watch you kiss his friend but he knew he had no right to be jealous. He was with Lucy. He'd picked her.

‘Of all the people you could date, why her?’ Yelled Frank, feeling his anger overflowing ‘Why her Ben?’

‘Why does it matter?’ He shouted back.

‘She’s my best friend!’

‘Who you’ve barely seen since you moved out!’ Spat Ben ‘She was so fucking depressed man. You’d left and she felt so alone. Did you ever show her that you appreciated what she did for you when you lived with her? Tell her she was beautiful? Tell her what she meant to you? Because she thinks she is the plain friend, doomed to be alone.’ Ben paused, scrubbing his hand over his face as he glanced at the restroom door ‘I have been into her for years. I held off because I knew she was your best friend but I couldn’t hold back any longer. She’s amazing and I’m falling hopelessly in love with her Fish. She deserves the world and I intend to give that to her.’

Frankie stood there with his mouth agape. He’d realised at that moment how selfish he’d been. He’d never made you feel appreciated, loved. He’d ignored your pain and now he knew that fact his mind was replayed the moments it had slipped out. He’d been so blind to it but now it was too late. He was too late.

Frankie Morales was in love with you… and he’d lost you to Ben.

When they'd returned to the table, Frankie had remained fairly silent as he desperately tried to quieten the anguish in his heart. He wished he'd never realised what he felt, he wished he'd remained ignorant of it but he knew he didn't really love Lucy. He never had.

Your heart raced with a mixture of nerve and excitement as Ben fucked you against the wall of the locker room. You could have been caught at any moment but you'd found yourself begging him for it before he’d lifted you by the back of your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your underwear to the side and slipping his throbbing length into your heat, silencing your moans with his mouth.

‘You gotta be quiet for me baby.’ He whispered, lust blown eyes locked with yours ‘Fuck you’re so beautiful.’ He panted as he rocked his hips, hitting that spot perfectly with each thrust of his strong hips.

‘F-fuck.’ You moaned, biting your bottom lip to stifle the filth that wanted to slip from your lips.

You could feel yourself fast approaching your orgasm and you latched onto his shoulders as your forehead fell against his, eyes remaining fixed on him

‘I love you.’ You whispered, smiling at the grin that swept across his face.

‘Fuck… I love you too baby.’ He replied, increasing his pace as he desperately tried to make you cum before him.

…

Frankie stepped into the locker room but stopped in his tracks when he heard it. Laboured breathing, stifled moans and he peeked around one of the lockers to see Ben fucking you against the wall. Your forehead was resting against his, mouth hanging open, knuckles white as you gripped onto his shoulders.

Then he heard it.

‘I love you.’

‘Fuck… I love you too baby.’

He managed to drag himself away after that, ears just catching your moans as you climaxed and he felt his heart break. Seeing you with him like that being the final nail in the coffin for him.

…

You couldn’t hold back the pleasured sob that escaped your lips as he made you cum, his release following straight behind yours and you kissed his deeply as you clutched onto him tightly, willing your heart to slow.

‘Fuck that was hot,’ Chuckled Ben as he lowered you to your feet ‘Good thing the boys didn’t arrive early.’

‘Would you have stopped?’ You question as you gave him a devilish grin.

‘Not sure I’d be capable of stopping.’ He replied ‘You feel too good.’

‘Mmm good answer.’ You replied as you pulled up your panties and kissed him sweetly ‘Love you.’ You said against his lips ‘Feels good to tell you that.’

‘Feels good to hear it.’ He replied, kissing the tip of your nose.

‘Look who I found making a run for it.’ Stated Will as he emerged from behind the lockers, arm slung around Frankie’s shoulders.

‘Where were you going?’ Asked Ben as he sat on one of the benches in the centre of the room and started to wrap his hands ready for the fight.

‘I uh…’ His eyes locked with yours and you saw something in them that makes your stomach twist Did he see us?

‘I don’t feel well.’ He stated, lifting his cap to adjust his hair underneath.

‘Nothing a beer can't fix.’ Will stated, pulling Frankie towards him and started to head to the ring ‘Meet you guys in there.’

You nod, watching as he led Fish away and then you turned to Ben with a mortified expression.

‘What?’ He asked upon seeing it.

‘I think he saw us.’ You replied plainly, hands shaking as you studied Ben’s reaction.

‘Fuck.’

You were dragged away from Ben’s lips by a knock at the door, the younger Miller groaning as you got off of his lap and padded across the room to your front door, taken aback by who you found standing there.

‘Lucy?’

‘Is Frankie here?’ She asked, her tone a little panicked.

You took her in. She looked unwell, a familiar gloss coating her eyes and you knew she was high.

‘No.’ You replied plainly, unable to hide your distaste at the state she was in ‘Why?’

‘We broke up a few weeks ago.’ She started, taking both you and Ben by surprise as he came up behind you ‘We’ve been texting the past few days. He was sad about something, has been sad for a few months now. He was supposed to come by today to grab the last of his things but he never showed. I tried calling but he isn’t answering. I’m worried about him. Thought maybe he’d come here.’

‘Where has he been living since he moved out?’ Ben asked, snaking his arm around your waist and giving you a friendly squeeze.

‘He found a flat.’

‘What's the address?’ He asked, grabbing the sticky notes and pen from your side table and noting it down as Lucy said it ‘Right. We’ll let you know if we hear from him. Go home and wait. He may still turn up. We’ll go check his apartment.’

Lucy nodded, her whole body trembling from a mixture of worry and need for her next fix. You recognised it, seen Frankie go through it and you felt a flicker of sympathy for her. She did really care about him. Ben called her a cab and saw her off before you both jumped into his truck and headed to the address she had given you, leg bouncing nervously as a terrible feeling washed over you. Your stomach dropped when you arrived, his door wide open and you'd both sprinted inside to find him seizing on the floor as someone, you assumed a neighbour, was on the phone to the emergency services beside him.

‘Frankie.’ You screamed as you fell to his side, cradling his face as his body was rocked with convulsions but Ben was glued to the spot in total shock. You felt sick as you watched his face, eyes rolling back as his seizure seemed to intensify and then it seemed to stop as abruptly as it had started and you sobbed as you rested your forehead against his.

‘Hold on please.’ You begged ‘Help’s coming. Just hold on.’ His breathing becoming more and more laboured.

You were pulled away by Ben as Frankie was then swarmed by medics, the neighbour who’d been there when you'd arrived coming to stand at your side.

‘I heard a scream, like none other I’d heard before, and then a crash.’ She started ‘He’s a nice boy. Gave me a spare key after he managed to lock himself out one night shortly after moving in. I let myself in and he was just laying there…. Then he started to fit and I-.’

‘You did really well... Miss?’

‘Roberts.’ She replied.

‘Well, Miss Roberts. We can’t thank you enough.’ Said Benny as he gave her a friendly smile.

‘Please keep me updated.’ She begged ‘Here’s my number.’ She said as she handed him a card ‘I won’t rest easy until I know he’s okay.’

‘We will.’ He replied, noting you following the gurney out the door ‘I promise.’ He shouted over his shoulder as he followed, leaping into the ambulance and sitting at your side.

The next few hours were a blur. Will arrived at the hospital around half an hour after you and Ben had and now the three of your sat waiting patiently for news. Ben held you tightly, stroking your hair as you clutched to him for dear life. Lips moving in silent prayer.

‘What happened?’ Asked Will, looking at his brother.

‘Lucy turned up asking if we’d seen Fish.’ He started, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head ‘They broke up like a month ago apparently. He’s been living in town. She gave us his address and when we turned up his neighbour was kneeling beside him as he was having a fucking seizure.’

‘Do you think?’

Ben just widened his eyes, not wanting you to know what he thought. He didn’t think it was right for you to hear it from him if his suspicions were right.

‘Who’s here for Mr Morales?’

‘We are.’ Replied Will as the three of you stood.

‘Is he?’

‘He’s alive.’ He started and you all breathed a sigh of relief ‘But he's lucky to be.’

You all looked up at him with concern and waited for him to elaborate.

‘He overdosed on Morphine.’ He stated and your hand flew up to your mouth ‘It looks to be deliberate. He took enough to cause death. He knew what he was doing.’

‘No Frankie wouldn’t do that.’ You sobbed ‘He wouldn’t try and kill himself.’

'Shhhh.' Hushed Ben as he pulled you into him, stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

‘He went into respiratory distress shortly after arriving but we managed to bring him back. He’s resting now and I’m confident that he’s going to recover. However we recommend that he be sectioned, his files show that he suffers from PTSD and that he’s a recovering cocaine addict. We fear he’s a danger to himself.’

‘No.’ Growled Ben ‘We’ll take care of him.’

‘Ben…’ Will scorned.

‘We’re not having him sectioned.’ He spat ‘We’ll take care of him won’t we baby?’

You nodded without hesitation.

You were allowed to see him a little while later and he’d been awake when you'd arrived but the pain in his eyes had made your stomach twist in knots. The way he’d looked at you made you feel sick to the stomach and you’d almost left, unable to bear seeing him like this.

‘Why Frankie?’ You managed to ask after a short period of silence, taking a seat beside his bed and taking his hand in yours.

‘I couldn’t do it anymore.’ He replied, choking on a sob that fell from his lips.

‘Do what?’

‘I realised too late.’

‘Frankie, what are you talking about?’ You pushed, brows furrowed in confusion.

‘I realised too late and now you love him.’

Your stomach dropped and you withdrew your hand.

‘I’m in love with you Arce.’ He declared ‘It hurts knowing you’re with him. That you love him.'

‘What are you saying Francisco?’ You grumbled ‘Are you telling me you tried to kill yourself because I’m with Ben?’

He didn’t say a word but you could read it in the look he was giving you.

‘Arce-.’

‘No, fuck you, Frankie.’ You spat, clutching your stomach as your sobs overthrew you ‘I’ve been in love with you since high school. I've borne the pain of loving someone that didn’t love me back for over a decade. It fucking hurt but never did I tried to take my own life because I couldn’t have you.’ You paused and his mouth dropped ‘Not even when you told me that when you met Lucy you'd found someone you could "be yourself around"... Those words cut me to the bone but I pushed past it and supported you. Ben is wonderful to me. He loves me. Makes me feel like a goddess. So the fact you "realised" you were in love with me after Ben and I got together… Well, that’s just shit Frankie because I love Ben. I’m finally happy after so long. This...’ You point at him and the hospital room around him ‘What you did was fucking selfish. I don’t- I can’t-.’

‘Arca.’

‘I need to leave.’ You sobbed as you got to your feet and sprinted from the room, not even stopping when Ben called your name.

You couldn’t stay here a moment longer. Not after he'd told you, you were the reason he tried to take his own life. He'd gone too far now.

Frankie moved in with the Miller brother for a little while after leaving the hospital. You’d avoided him, but you hadn’t told Ben what he’d said in the hospital. He’d tried to call, send several texts but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to speak to him. He'd destroyed whatever had been left of your friendship the moment he'd swallowed those pills.

‘Fish’s really worried about you baby.’ He said softly, brushing his nose against yours ‘Baby he’s a mess. He's desperate to speak to you.’

‘I can’t.’ You replied.

‘Why the fuck not?’ Growled Ben, head shooting back ‘You two have been friends forever. He almost died baby. He needs his friends.’

‘Ask him why he did it.’ You growled, eyes darkening ‘Ask him why and then you’ll understand why I can’t speak to him.’

So that’s exactly what Ben did and Fish had been honest in answering him, leaving Ben in an impossible position.

‘The fuck you mean you’re in love with her?’ He yelled, instantly regretting raising his voice when Fish flinched ‘Is this why you freaked when you found out?’

‘No… Yes…. Sort of.’ He grumbled as he scraped a hand over his face ‘I didn’t realise until I saw your arm around her that I was… and always had been in love with her.’

Ben collapsed onto the couch, his stomach dropping.

‘She said she’d loved me since high school. I’d been blind to it until she had told me and then it had become so painfully obvious.’ He paused, eyes locking with Bens ‘But I’ve lost her to you now. She loves you.’ He hiccups ‘She deserves to be with a guy like you.’

‘Fish…’

‘Ben please.’ He begged, raising his hand to silence him ‘I know what I did was selfish but I was in a hole so deep I saw no way out. Now I’ve lost her completely.’ He threw his head into his hands and sobbed ‘I’ve fucked everything up so badly.’

From that day Ben made it his mission to repair your broken friendship. He had eventually managed to sit the two of you down, making you the both of you talk and after the two of you finally got the truth out there you were able to start to repair the tattered remains of your relationship the two of you had once treasured so much. You’d offered to let him move in again, something that Ben had actually suggested one evening over dinner. Things had been a little awkward at first, especially on the nights when Ben stayed over but as the days faded into weeks. Weeks into months. You found that you were able to fall back into the routine you'd had before, with Ben being an added extra. You'd blinked and a year had passed, your relationship with the younger Miller getting stronger and stronger. He'd moved in with you soon after the anniversary, something that Frankie appeared to take well but little did you know it was eating him alive under the surface. The selfish part of him had hoped that by the two of you living together again, that he'd have a chance to woo you but you were too in love with Ben. He'd never stood a chance. So as the months went on, Ben became more permanent and as time went on you both talked of the future, of what you both so desperately wanted.

‘I’m going to miss you.’ Ben panted against your lips as he thrust himself deep into your heat, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you as you arched your back to urge him deeper ‘Fuck I’m going to miss you so much.’

‘I’ll miss you too.’ You whined ‘Fuck… Ben.’ You pleaded as your hands grasped at his toned ass ‘Harder… please.’

He did as you asked, increasing his pace and you moaned loudly before throwing your head back in a silent scream. It didn’t take long for him to make you cum for the third time since you'd started, growling against the shell of your ear as you bit down on his shoulder to muffle your scream.

‘Fuck baby.’ He grunted, thrusting half a dozen more times before filling you with his cum. ‘Pillow.’ He said and you grabbed one for him, raising your hips so he could slide it under.

‘You think it’ll take?’ You asked, smiling at him warmly.

‘God I hope so.’ He said as he placed a kiss on your stomach ‘Can’t wait to see you round with my baby in your belly.’

‘You’re cute.’ You giggled, pulling him into a kiss ‘Do you have to go?’

‘You know I do baby.’ He said softly, kissing you softly ‘But I promise I will be back here as soon as I can. Fish’ll take good care of you whilst I’m gone.’

‘Three weeks is such a long time.’

‘I know but think about it this way… When I come back, we can do a test and hopefully.’ He pauses to kiss you sweetly ‘It will tell us we’re going to have a family.’

‘Well, when you put it that way.’ You grinned ‘Perhaps we should do it at least once more… Just to be sure.‘

‘God yes.’ He growled as he kissed you deeply again, feeling himself growing hard again.

‘I read that doggy is an excellent position for conceiving.’ You stated, looking at him seductively 'Allows for deeper penetration.'

‘God I love you.’ He growled as he flipped you onto your front, kissing up your spine as you got onto your hands and knees.

‘Put a baby in me, Benny.’ You begged, wiggling your ass a little as you grinned at him over your shoulder.

‘Would be my pleasure.’ He purred as he pushed himself into your heat again, groaning in unison with you.

The pace he set this time was mind-numbing, the sound of his hips slapping against you only making you more aroused. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he pounded into you and you felt the coil inside you start to tighten, threatening to snap at any moment.

‘Touch yourself.’ He ordered and you shivered at the pleasure his command brought you and slipped your hand down your body and began to rub the bundle of nerves between your thighs, crying out as he started to hit your sweet spot over and over.

‘Fuck baby I’m close.’ He whined, gripping you tighter as he sped up again.

‘So am I.’ you replied breathlessly.

‘Good.’ He growled, pounding into you mercilessly and then you cum together before collapsing on the bed with him still very much inside of you.

Pulling out of you he arranged the pillow underneath your belly so your hips were raised, hoping gravity would help the process along.

‘God I can’t wait to have a baby with you.’ He panted as he laid down beside you, stroking your cheek affectionately.

You beamed at him, taking his hand in yours as you came down from your high. You prayed his seed would take, that he would return to the best news in the world. You’d both decided to keep it a secret, for now, wanting to surprise them all but little did you know that Frankie now knew. He’d walked past your door just as you’d asked Ben to put a baby in you and his heart had shattered.

He’d never get you now.

Part 2

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco ‘catfish’ Morales #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x you #ben miller x reader #ben miller x you #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #fanfiction #frankie morales x reader

57 notes · View notes

widowsofchaos · 3 years

Text

Here With You

summary: The weight of drugs can break any relationships, but your love for him is greater.

pairing: Mike Weiss x black!reader

10. “Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?”

12. “Because I couldn’t bear the idea of you choosing to stay with me out of pity or guilt.”

Beta by @avintagekiss24 A big thanks to my good sis! Thank for being such a great friend on taking the time to help edit!🤍

warnings: fluff and angst.

a/n: this is 1/2 of my submissions for @angrybirdcr ‘s 200 follower challenge! I choose to write for Chris Evan’s character Mike Weiss. Great underrated film! Thanks for hosting, babe! <3 thank you for being so understanding on my lateness on my submissions! <3 sorry again for being late!

do not repost my works!

This wasn’t new -- this feeling of dread --- awaiting for the shit-storm of pain, and the rainfall of tears. A slow, and yet tender feeling like a blossoming bruise. The inside of your cavity feels shattered by every inhale of a strained wheeze.

Cloudiness floats around your skull like a haze, but you move on auto-pilot --- your feet move by the surge of determination, and commitment; a bitter-sweet twinge weighs on your tongue to witness someone you love fall apart at the seams.

It’s 3 in the morning now, the moon beams high in the inky sky. The apartment is blanketed by darkness, cautiously all lights are off. Chaos ensues, your heart lurches at the muffled vomiting, and whimpers from the bedroom down the hall. Your fingers tighten around the bucket, clutching as the plastic digs into your palm.

Two chilled soaked rags hang limply over your forearm. Breathless as your footfalls dash against the carpeting, bolting through the room to see Mike slumped-over the edge of the bed, his legs tangled in wrinkled sheets.

Drenched sweat soaks through two thick pillows --- now a bit flat, and wet --- blankets strewn around by fits of rage or Mike crying that his skin is too boiling hot. A lone lit lamp illuminates the room into a dim dewy yellow flourish --- an excess of light hurts Mike’s eyes, and gives him a migraine.

The bulb emitting makes his entire body shine by the sheen of sweat, shivering, and groans of your name slips from his quivering pink lips.

Half of his body leaning over the mattress, his trembling fingers shakingly gripping the carpeted flooring, as if he was trying to crawl his way out of bed. “I’m here, Mikey. I’m here.” A broken sob escapes your lips, as you gently fall on your knees beside him. Tears break its watery shield, and collide down your cheeks to see Mike crumble.

Drool pooling from his mouth, and puke residue sits at the corner of his lips. His eyes pinching shut-tight, crying at the pain, you shushing him as you caress his cheek.

With all your strength, with gentle hands, you push Mike over on his back, guilt coiling in the pit of your belly at him moaning. Your hands sliding underneath his armpits, you maneuver him -- twisting his torso, and legs so his body can lay horizontally on the bed.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Mike croaks, his voice was hoarse, and raw. You bundle a bit of your nightie in your hand, to wipe his mouth --- it didn’t matter, you’ll wash it later. “It’s okay. No need to apologize.” You stroke your knuckles sweetly against his cheek, reassuring him by touch and voice that you want to be here; to remind him you’re here for the long haul.

You kiss the crease between his furrowing brows, then your lips featherly trail upward, and kiss his forehead, with no hesitation to sweat sticking to your mouth. “You’re still a bit warm, but the fever is going down.” You spoke breathlessly against his skin, your lips tickling his skin.

Gingerly laying the rag on his forehead, Mike sighs in relief, his lashes fluttering closed at the cooling sensation surging through his buzzing head.

It’s been four days of Mike going raw cold-turkey. Four days of pure hell for Mike, and four days of pure grief for yourself.

In the beginning of this trial, when the drugs began flushing out of his system Mike wasn’t himself --- it was as if he’s a frothing beast scouting for substance. Screaming matches spewing from his irritation, itching between these four walls; Mike resembling a caged animal.

Pure rage masking self-hatred; anger at the aches deep in his muscles, pity at that maybe he can’t do this.

To accomplish sobriety.

Vomiting with his head limp, and deep in the toilet, hours of crying, and pleas for that one last hit --- Mike screaming for God to end him, and that he doesn’t deserve you. Cradling him in your arms, rocking him like an infant, as he sputters incoherent cries; speaking in hushed tones in his ear that you love him --- all his flaws, and scars.

What provoked his final decision to get clean, and start a new slate for one’s health, life longevity, and to keep your love --- was a discovery he dreamt to have long ago but felt he wasn’t deserving to earn.

“I’m sorry --- a-about the ca--r-rpet.” Mike whispers in choppy puffs, whining low. Jesus, this man is in pain, and he’s worried about you being mad at the carpet? You shook your head slightly, gesturing to him that you weren’t mad.

“Don’t apologize for that, it’s nothing. I’ll clean it later.” You spoke in a calm hush, as you placed the bucket on the floor, next to his bedside.

Your hand delicately pad against the clammy biceps with one rag, testing his bodily temperature, taking the remaining rag off of your slightly cold-numbing skin.

You kiss the corner of his brow, as you rub down his chest with the crisp rag, his lips part as an airy breath laced with deep relief escapes; as the refreshing fabric graces his flesh. His chest hair swirled a bit under the comforting circular motions.

Admiring his body, your eyes trace over every ink stroke of his tattoos adorning him. Sheen of water linger as you soothe Mike, silently reciting the Buddhist quote on his chest. Through the rag, you trace the designs of his tattoos by the tips of your fingers --- soft as petals.

Your hand travels the rag downward his torso to dull the slight overheating. Mike hums lowly with his eyes laxly closed shut, his breathing now ceasing into an easy rhythm. Memories begin flooding Mike’s head, as his breathing relaxes steadily. Recollections of how Mike and yourself met years prior --- four years to be exact --- at the hospital you work at.

It was a dark cloudy day, the outside world drenched with heavy pouring rain; the atmosphere was thick with dread, and scented with antiseptic. Sniveling, and irritated with a forthcoming migraine, the flickering lightening tube hovering above him was like a menacing tick, making him twitch internally; as he laid in the hospital bed.

Balling the white blue-polka dotted hospital gown into his fists, the fabric bundling between his fingers. Mike was silent, as he scanned his environment motionlessly.

Accidental overdose is the verdict. Sunken eyes with lavender hues, as the mulling cadence of ringing phones, bustling chatter of nurses, and squeaking footfalls of passing doctors flood the hallways.

A click of the door opening, and in all your glory, your hair tied in a bun with a few curls straying, wearing a purple nurse uniform, a clipboard clutched in your palm, Nike sneakers for comfort --- being on your feet all day --- and a name tag boldly showcasing your printed name.

In your palm, are clear bags of his folded clothing, and shoes. Nicely you place the bags at the edge of the bed near Mike’s feet.

“Hello Mr. Weiss. How are you feeling right now?” A melodic timbre that soothed Mike, lulling his weary mind to a blissful state. The concern didn’t go unnoticed, how you worded your question in the namesake of professionalism, and humane authenticity.

‘Right now?’ Usually people would ask how he’s feeling as if he wasn’t struggling prior with the question, ‘How are you today?’ and his usual response would be, ‘Shitty.’ sealed with a somber shit-eating grin, but you asked how he’s feeling right now, so you can help him, not analyze him.

You didn’t sound fake, nor condescending. Usually a lot of medical staff didn’t have much regard for addicts, nor at least a speck of pity or sympathy. Mike’s tongue was heavy, struggling a little to speak up.

Gaping his mouth open and closed, like a mindless goldfish. You peeked over your clipboard, with a sweet arched brow, giggling lowly to yourself --- your brown hues sparkling in amusement. It was a tiring day, so to see this man stammering over his words was beyond cute, and the highlight of your day.

“Are you okay?” You asked with a small curling smile, hiding your snickering behind the clipboard, with only musing eyes squinting in giggles appearing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m actually better now.” Mike perked up, coughing a bit as his voice was hoarse, bashful, and his pale cheeks dusting pink. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Why in the fuck am I floundering? Get a grip, Mike! Mike never stuttered around women, always flirtatious. This was new for him.

“That’s good. How is your body feeling after the sedatives? Any discomfort right now?” Your soft voice interrupted his rampant thoughts.

“Just a bit groggy, but what else is new?” Mike humorlessly chuckles, as he shamelessly eyes your body. You notice him checking you out, but you elect to ignore him with a warm smile — but you couldn’t deny, you’re silently enjoying his wordless flirtation; despite your fatigued stature, this man still saw attraction to you.

“I promise it’ll pass. Just get some rest, and stay hydrated.” With a flick of your carmine painted nails, you smoothly perked the clipboard on your waist as you unlatched the metal clip, retrieving a few handbills.

“Here I have chosen a few pamphlets for rehab centers, and a few numbers for therapy agencies.”

“I don’t need those.” Mike pushed your out-stretched hand gently away.

You arched your brow at him, clicking your tongue at his ignorance, “And why don’t you need them?” You inquire kindly, a cautious tone; not wanting to release this man from the hospital’s care, just to snort and shoot up into an early grave.

“Listen, I can tell you’re sweet. Too sweet for someone like me to be concerned with. I’ve tried to get clean, and it never works. It’s just not for me.” Mike hastily sits up, slinging his legs over the bed, flinging the thin blanket off of him, “It’s not worth it.” He mutters under his breath.

You were entirely taken back, wincing at how low he talks of himself. Intently watching this man hastily open the bags to get his clothes, the edge of his jaw pinched pink --- like ripe warm peaches. Was it due to embarrassment?

You place the papers on the bed, as you walk more closely to him.

“You are worth it.” You place his cold hands into yours, cupping as if you’re cradling. Trying to get to his eye-level, make him see that you were serious.

He doesn’t dare to glance your way, “Doesn’t matter.” Mike insists, slowly seizing his hands from your grasp, “Why bother trying only to fail? And then disappoint everyone all over again?” His nose was flaring, not wanting to lash his tongue at you, just at the idea of his addictions being the topic of discussion irks him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want help … it’s that hopeless sinking feeling, that he’s just incurable. A burden. A problem, masking pain with sarcasm and substance to numb it all. A demon clawing at his shoulder, spitting self-hate in his ear.

You’re just not worth the trouble, Mike.

As he stood up from the bed, stretching out his shirt, he noticed from the corner of his eye that you were staring at him worriedly. On instinct, pulling the mask down to cover his anguish once more.

“Wanna help me get dressed, sweetheart?” A curling faux self-confident smirk that was forced, you sniff out like a bloodhound. You immediately caught on the familiar behavior, a usual route for patients to cope out with defense mechanisms. You saw this tactic day in and day out.

But more importantly, it’s one you use too well.

“It may not feel like it now, but it’s not impossible. You’re not the first patient I had who felt this way.” You spoke with conviction, ignoring the insistent words ushered by doctors from the past that were ringing at the back of your head, you can't help someone if they don’t want to get help.

It’s not a martyr shtick, nor a God complex --- but how Mike looked so distressed and sickly as he was pulled in the hospital on the stretcher pained you straight in the heart, parallel to many others before.

“You never know if you don’t try.” You perk your hands on your hips, with an insisting stance. It wasn’t pushy, but Mike could tell you weren’t going to back down.

How you stood firmly with the hands perched on your curvous hips that strained subtly against the cotton uniform --- it was hot, how you stood your ground to him, yet no insulting persistence. Your bubble cheeks scrunching up so cutely. Mike just couldn’t help but be turned on, maybe it's your caring nature mixing into it.

Mike breathed through his nose, his head hung low, his hands sinking into the mattress. A sign of defeat, not entirely submitting, but how your words were honeyed with sterling sweetness got him to halt, and process how his life led up to here.

He glimpses through his long pretty lashes, “Alright --” He cheekily scans your name-tag, pretending he didn’t already memorized it from the moment you walked in.“Y/n. I’ll go. You’re pretty convincing. Maybe you should have been a lawyer too.”

“Oh --- you’re a lawyer, huh?”

“An unlikable one to be exact.”

You suck your teeth teasingly, “I highly doubt that. You seem likeable to me.” You pucker your bee-stung lips with jovial tease, as you tug on the curtain surrounding his bed to offer privacy, his eyes zero on your soft lips that glisten with chapstick sheen, his arms mid-frozen holding onto his articles of clothing.

“Now get dressed, and we’ll get you out of here.” You chuckle, only the shadow of your stihollute appears. Mike chuckles to himself, a little shake of his head, he liked you from the very start.

You knew the circumstances of dating an addict, from day one you knew the weight of his demons Mike carried on his back. He laid all his cards on the table, and you leaped into this life with him head-first.

But how could you not fall for him? His charm, his blunt wit, his intelligence, his kindness and that beautiful face? Only a fool would be blind not to be swooned off their feet for the one and only Mike Weiss. After the first -- rather intense --- first meeting, it was definitely not the last encounter for Mike and yourself.

After agreeing to go to a rehab program, Mike flirted with you immensely; along with requesting for you to accompany him on his first day. “For moral support.” he shrugged, a flirtatious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His first day was stoic, but with hushed side-commentary, and sly remarks. Muffling your laughter, you would poke his ribs, silently telling him to knock it off. It didn’t take long for an unusual friendship to develop. You really didn’t see it coming, and if Mike was to be honest, he didn’t either.

The realization of deep love was agnated to a love-drunk punch to the heart.

Days blurring into weeks into months with good morning and goodnight calls, late night conversations - those were the heart-shattering times. It was difficult for Mike to open up his layers, bottling his hurt inside to the point of shaking sobs at 3 am, clutching the phone.

Choppy incoherent words, spurts of feeling worthless. It began with you two having brunch which then led into dinner dates. Soon trust was earned, and you began hanging out at his house or your apartment.

A nurturing nurse and a sardonic lawyer becoming friends--his dry humor doesn’t rub you the wrong way, or how you don’t see it as obnoxious.

“Later when you take a shower, I’ll get you fresh sheets.” You murmur sweetly, as you finished massaging him. Mike slowly peels his eyes open, hooded and squinting. Your voice is silvery to his ears, it always appeases his darkest times --- like that hopeful light at the end of the tunnel.

Silently his eyes raked over your body, your hushed voice brought him back to reality. As he soaked in your appearance, Mike couldn’t stomach how tired you were, your eyes were droopy, your curls sloppily disrayed. As his eyes traveled from your exhausted face to your breasts that swelled over the past weeks to the ample bump protruding against your nightie.

Now entering into your second trimester.

Mike began silently crying, pinching his eyes shut as lone tears spilled down his cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby. We’re getting through this, I’m so proud of you.” You kiss his wet cheeks, not minding the salty tears that kiss his eyes. Nimble sweet kisses, and cooing. You knew how hard he was working to get sober.

“You don’t need this shit.” Mike croaked, not daring to open his eyes, and see the pity in yours.

“Stop that. I love you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.” You caress his cheeks by the gentle graze of your knuckles, shushing him. Lulling him to calm down from a pending panic attack.

You soft humming quills him, with only a sniffle here and there. You kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you.” Mike mutters under his breath. You giggle under your breath, feeling a bit bashful --- how can he make you so shy even after three years together?

You snivel a bit, biting back a sheen of tears, “And I love you too.” You’ll never get tired of saying that.

It’s been a long road, filled with bumps and turbulence. Many women would have left a long time ago, abandoning Mike at his lowest, but you just couldn’t. You’re too addicted to Mike, from the taste of him, to his scent, to the feel of his skin. His sharp tongue, and his humanity.

There was a moment in this journey that almost halted this life together, where you both had to address every bleeding crevice. It was a toxic mixture of your denial, and Mike’s instinct to push anyone close to him away.

It’s not that you didn’t want to help Mike, or face reality --- you were afraid. Scared that Mike was hurting himself, and all the progress you both built together was deteriorating at the seams, but then his honeyed words of promises of getting better would wrap your head in a rose-tinted daze.

Mike wasn’t trying to convince you, but himself. Just to chip off on the drugs, to keep himself afloat --- that this time it’ll be okay. He can balance his sanity, and his urges of substance that makes him feel ‘whole’. But that was just a temporary moment of brief delusion.

It was about three months ago, your shift at work was a tiresome blur, bustling on auto-pilot. The soles of your feet were aching, the nape of your back was droning in a dull pinch, and your eyes were slightly burning. Your worn body was screaming, and yearning for the comfort of your soft bed, and just to cuddle in Mike’s arms.

But there was a sense of … queasiness yet gleeful.

For days on end, you were puking in the early hours of the morning, your head hanging in the toilet. Waves of nausea, and finally, the nail in the coffin, you realized that your period was five weeks late. A hunch was hovering over your head, like a burning bright bulb. Finally, biting the bullet, and putting on your big girl pants, during a lunch break, you took a blood-test, and sent a cup of your urine to the labs for testing.

Once the results came back to you a few days later, you were speechless for the remainder of the day.

You were deary with worry, unable to conjure the words to form the discovery of yours. As you parked the car in-front of the house, cutting the engine off with the flick of your wrist, snatching the keys. Living with Mike has become a better part of your life, coming home to a person who loves you, and who would hold you, holding them. Grounding yourself back to earth in warmth, blending into one, melting your worldly problems away.

Reminding that you’re not alone.

With a groan, you weaved out of the car, locking it, and trekked up the walkway to the porch. Arching your arm, as your open-palm was rubbing your tail-bone as you waltzed to the front-door, thanking God and his angels that you were able to leave work early.

Dunking your hand in your bag, fumbling for your house-keys, mumbling under your breath as you blearily tried to conduct the proper way to tell Mike the truth, ansty and yet giddy at the toes --- to tell him you’re pregnant.

You always wanted a family, but over the years, the desired fantasy was slowly being strangled with dwindling hope, never really connecting to any soul --- until now, with Mike. Yawning mindlessly, you inserted a key into the lock, twisting, and opening the door.

“Mike, I’m home. I have something to tell you—” A cheery tone falters into silence.

Your foggy haze of exhaustion was smacked off your face, as you almost nearly stumbled off your own feet. Prejuticle vomit bubbling at the back of your throat, as startled eyes all look into you, you felt like a trespasser in your own home.

Witnessing a mass of people seated in your living room, snorting lines off the now stained and scratched coffee glass table, startled as they drink heavily and sloppily gulps liquor, as fogs of nicotine floods the air — staring at you with wide eyes.

Rooted in the middle sector of the couch, eyes bulging with fear, hot under the collar, was Mike himself, sniffling back remnants of coke deep into his nostrils, bare-chested in his red suspenders, and dress pants.

“That’s just great.” You mutter under your breath, a cracked sigh of breath; your jaw clicking to the side, Mike knows that tic very well. Your arms fall limply to your waist, as a gesture of defeat.

You walk away, exhaustion setting and resting in your bones, as your feet guide you upstairs. Begrudgingly so, an unbearable itch at the back of your throat, dying to just scream on the top of your lungs.

Scream and cry.

You can faintly hear Mike alert his friends to pack up and go, scuffling of footfalls and inebriated murmuring begin to flow out of the house. A few chuckles and finally …. it was silent, with the slam of the front door the only indicator that it’s just you and Mike — finally alone.

Fidgety fingers nearly tear the fabric off of you, tugging it off your body button by button with an edge of boiling rage, and a sheen of tears burning at the brim of your eyes. All the joy slowly zaps slowly out of your pores, now a dreary sadness now weighs on your shoulders.

Have I not done enough? To help Mike? Maybe my help wasn’t enough? Maybe his pain is too deep-rooted in him, maybe he has to push himself first to make the first move for recovery? Has he been lying all this time? Maybe he’s never been sober during the entire duration of the relationship?

You suspected it, felt the energy was off for quite some time, and yet you decided to play the love-sick fool dance the dance of denial.

A watery huff of a sigh. A dulling pain begins to throb and engulf your skull, an impending migraine just beyond the horizon. Clenching your jaw, nearly on the brink of grinding your teeth. A somber treading up the stairs looms near the bedroom, as you strip.

Dreading on what’s to come next, Mike was slowly walking to the bedroom, fearing a fight breaking out, worried that you’re going to leave him once and for all. But isn’t that what you wanted? For her to realize that you’re not good enough? Mike belittles and berates himself, as he is ever so delaying his steps.

Counting his steps like the sheeps to lull him at night, as he tries to collect his thoughts, already his tongue heavy with ale, ready to slur an apology. Trepidation beams at his brow, fearing the worse to come, that you’ll finally leave him.

His open-palm collides silently against the bedroom door, right on cue when he’s ready to push, he hears sniffles. Internally wincing at your pain, but like a bandage, he’s gotta rip it off.

Grovel on his knees, if he has to, kiss your feet like a goddess worshipped at an alter — anything for you not to hate him. Bringing strangers - swirly acquaintances - into your shared home, breaking your trust.

A creak of the hinges alerts you. Quickly wiping away your teary cheeks, you stand at your night-stand in nothing but your panties, straightening your hunched over form as you were sobbing into your folded clothes.

With a firm shove of the drawer, you close it, gripping your nightie in one hand, and the other clenching into a fist that hovers over your heart. Trying to level your breathing, not wanting to scare off Mike, you know that he’s hurting too.

You can feel his stare burning holes in the back of your skull.

“Mike, I’m just going to take a shower and head off to bed.” You turn your body around, now facing his mopey face, wanting desperately to just kiss him, and hug him. “I suggest putting a bottle of water at the night-stand to keep hydrated throughout the night, and a bucket to be precautious.” You force a forlorn smile, as you place the nightie on the bed.

Uncertain feet tap against the flooring, you walk hesitatingly at first, towards Mike, placing your palm on his shoulder, your thumb rubbing against his skin. A kiss on his lips, ever so featherly soft. “I’m not mad. We’ll get through this.” You rub the tip of your nose against his sweetly.

Mike knows you’re not mad, it’s beyond that. Mad is just scratching the surface, his heart aches to see your eyes watery, and nearly splotchy pink at the rims. “I hate it when you do that.” Mike’s hoarse voice makes you flinch, as if it grated against your ears.

“Excuse me?” Your nose scrunches up, as your cheeks puff out. “Hate what exactly, Mike? Me supporting you bothers you?” You move away from him, sniffing back your tears, shaking a little at the hands, the back of your knees collide against the bed, softly thudding yourself against the mattress.

“No. You pretending you’re not mad. Pretending that everything is okay.” His nose flares, his chest heaving. Wanting to scream, for you to scream. Just let it all go. Too much is bottling like a ticking time bomb.

“But I’m not mad.” You hiss through your teeth.

“Yes the fuck you are! Admit it! Stop acting like a martyr for one moment, and just say it! Say how you really feel! Say I’m a junkie!”

“Stop it, Mike! You’re just a little …” You trail off, biting your tongue, before anything stupid or insensitive spills out. Forbidding any word to spew out, and hurt him. No matter how infuriated you are, you just couldn’t lash out at him.

“Like what? Fucked up? News flash, Y/n, I’m fucked up. Stop acting as if you can fix me! You act like I can just pick up my mistakes and move along.” Mike shouts, now pacing, practically burning a hole in the carpeting.

“Shut up! I was going to say high!” You hastily stand up to your feet, “And I’m so fucking sorry, that me loving you is a fucking problem. That I see you as you are, a fucking human being, not some addict. Because that’s not what defines you, but you want it to be. You can’t stand to see yourself as anything but.” You cry, your hands not knowing where to put them at, just shaking in mid-air.

“That’s fucking bullshit!” Mike barks in your face, tears ready to fall down his stubbled cheeks.

“No it’s not!” You stomp your foot, your toes curling into the carpet. “You refuse to let me in! Instead you seek comfort in strangers, come together to get high, and fuck it all!” Your hand weaves in the air, angrily gesturing; harshly slamming against your thigh.

“You don’t even fucking know me!” By now, his nose is connected to yours. He doesn’t know why he’s screaming at you, lashing you with his insecurities, but how you just won’t admit that this isn’t helping you either. You’re hurting too.

Jesus, his brain is muddled. Fried. He wants to cry, and beg your forgiveness for what he has said, fall to his knees and just hold you, but instead, here he is, shouting at you. He doesn’t feel like a man, he feels lower than dirt.

“Then let me get to know you! You only feed me scraps, thinking that can subdue me, I want you to open up to me!”

“Why? So you can get some self-satisfaction by helping a charity case?” Mike growled, it was a watery one. “I told you from day one, I’m not worth it!” Mike thrashes trinkets off the drawer with his hand, products and little figurines collide on the floor with a thud, “You don’t need this shit! You don’t need me!” Mike screams on the top of his lungs, now hunching over, falling on his knees, as you sink into yourself; covering your mouth from sobbing too loud.

Have you been coming off as pretentious? Pushing him to keep positive, kind affirmations every-day, reminding him to eat healthy, telling him he’s great no matter what, hovering over him to keep sober? Hovering too much? Pushing too hard?

But you couldn’t help it … you love him too much.

“But I need you.” It was a pitiful sob, his arched spine quivering, his shoulders tense, his fingers digging into the cotton fibers. Slowly, you kneel down, your fingers tentatively rub between his shoulder blades; Mike savoring the touch of your finger tips against his clammy skin.

Seconds felt like minutes, biting your lip as you kept rubbing and soothing him, it always helped him calm down. Finally he spoke up, and what he will say will break your heart, “Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?” Mike choked on a sob, his head bobs a bit to sniffle.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Baby …” You cry, finally a heavy waterfall crashes down. Holding him, your chest against his sculpted back, “Please talk to me. I don’t want to lose you.” Wet little kisses on him, mumbling, “Please tell me.” Fresh tears water his back.

“I love you too much to pull you down. To my own hell. It’s not right. You’re too pure.” Mike picks his head up, your hands cup his cheeks. Your brows furrowing, shaking your head at him.

“I need you.” You whispered. “I will go to bat in Hell, for you. Sock Satan in the mouth if I have too.” You chuckle, and luckily, he chuckles too with that cute signature Weiss smirk.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I just …” Mike hung his head, sighing. Hating that he lied for months, he was doing good, he was clean for a period of time. But he got hit with a big case, and the stress got too much.

Drugs were easier than asking for help.

“Then why did you keep pushing me away?” You tilted your head, to manage eye contact. You never wanted to push him too hard just to open up to you. Knowing that it only could make him crawl deep inside himself.

“Because I couldn’t bear the idea of you choosing to stay with me out of pity or guilt.” Mike rubs his cheek against yours, “I never had anyone love me, never held anything good.” Mike blubbered.

“I love you for you. Flaws and all. I’m here for the long haul.” Blinking back wet lashes, you lean in more against his face, with a gentle squeeze of his cheeks in the cusp of your hands.

“I love you too.” It was simply sweet. Shy, even. Mike nudges his face against yours, his lips trailing down your pulse point. Your ultimate weakness.

Mike hedges himself at the knees, as he engulfs your nude body in his arms; as you wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss the joint of his jaw, and with ease, Mike lifts you by his palms on your ass, standing upward with you in his grasp.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper in his ear, “Come take a shower with me.” Caressing your face against his, Mike nodded silently. With quiet steps, and two hearts beating against one, Mike waltzes into the bathroom.

With his fore-arm holding you by the bum, his free hand unzipped himself, the click of his zipper made you quiver underneath your skin. His enchanting warmth shoved your secret in the back burner of your mind, but the journey of it twisting and morphing made you worried — slowly your concern of the possibility of losing the father of your unborn baby was temporarily replaced with touch starvation.

Like a balm to a gashing wound.

It was there but subtle, and quiet. Awaiting it’s time to arise at an unexpecting time, to snatch your heart and squeeze.

The shower was warm and inviting, it helped a little clear Mike’s stuffy sinuses. Your fingers twirling and massaging in Mike’s chest hair, as you both cling onto each other as a life-line. Mike kissed the middle of your brows, as his hands were unwavering from your body.

Silence --- the type that doesn’t need to be filled with unnecessary chatter --- comfortable --- speaking louder than words. His tears blending into the spraying water, and his small tremors were the signs that he was genuinely sorry; and with open arms, you forgive him.

Bathing each other has always been a favorite of yours, so intimate, the soapy sensation of wet skin, the intense eye contact — how perfectly his forehead connects with yours. How soft your touch is against his sex, coddling and cleaning him with care and precision.

Mike rubs the soapy sponge against the terrain of your shoulder blades, trailing down the arch of your spine leaving electric kisses down your spine. A breathy gasp at this welcoming intrusion of Mike seeping the sponge between your asscheeks.

Small lathery cadence intermixing with your wanton moans, as your fingernails scratch slightly against Mike’s back. Mike groaned, it felt so good — the smooth and slippery scratches made him hiss, it was a good pinch of pain.

Cheeky as ever, you slipped your hands to cup his his toned ass; Mike chuckled, mumurming under his breath, his pink lips against your soaked dome, “Greedy brat.” This wasn’t an escape from your issues, clearly both of you need to open the air to discuss your emotions --- a needed shower for two was a nice reprieve from the emotional turmoil.

To clear your heads.

After the shower, and moisturizing, helping Mike into bed, you were braiding your hair, but you were unusually silent. It was time to tell him … now or never. His finger curls against your bare back, fiddling with the thin silk straps against his tips.

You turn your face, your palm holding his fingers. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” Mike spoke quietly, as he laid his back against the headboard. His twirling fingers put you a little ease, but it’s not enough, you have to speak up.

“I have to tell you something …” You trail off, your tone puts him at unease. Your gaze is lowered, Mike shifts his hand away, and perks it underneath your chin.

Making you look at him, with a calm poker-face, Mike insists you, with the soft whisper of your name. Biting your lower lip, his thumb quickly tugging it down. “I’m — I’m pregnant.” Wide eyes gawk into Mike’s own widen orbs, wide as dinner plates.

His breathing got heavy, and soon choppy. You quickly put your hand over his heart, shushing him. “It’s going to be okay. Baby, it’s going to be okay.” A lone tear trails down your cheek, thinking of the worst, you believe Mike is going to bolt out of your life out of fear.

“Is that … ” Mike swallows, “Is that what you wanted to tell me earlier?” His chin wobbles, as you nod, unable to speak. His eyes lower to your flat tummy, hesitantly he cups your belly. His fingers caressing the silk clad skin, he began to cry. Just unraveling in your hold.

That night, you held him tight, and he clung to you tightly; his head laid on your stomach, his tears shedding against your nightie. Mike felt …. scared. Throughout the night, he would mumble that he wasn’t good dad material, but you always tell him, “You’re going to be great.”

That was four months ago, and throughout those four months, Mike was up and down, on and off of drugs, but finally … he stopped. He cried when he first heard your baby’s heartbeat, that’s when he began his rocky path back to sobriety.

Four months of self-hate, sometimes he would leave his journals open for you to read, he couldn’t properly express himself verbally, but in writing, he said it all. He was afraid of the rehab campus’, he preferred your expertise and comfort to nurse him back.

But he couldn’t do this to you, your pregnancy shouldn’t be a stressful one. He knows what he must do.

Mike opened his eyes once more, coming back to reality. Four months and he’s still here. “I’m ready.” His voice was small, yet confident. As if a surge of power consumed his body. His eyes shine with determination.

You were taken back, “Ready for what?” You ask nervously. You bite down on your bottom lip, a little habit you have yet to kick, you would bite your lip till it cracked and bleed.

“To go back to rehab. I gotta do this right.” You hold back a sob, kissing his forehead. “I want to do right for our baby.” Mike weakly smiles, you smile back. You can already envision your shared future, how Mike will protect and love your child. Happy and healthy, no longer fearing the shadow of death lingering near him.

“This baby is so lucky to have you as their daddy.” With the tips of your fingers, grazing his jaw, you lean down for a kiss. It’s a wispy yet passionate kiss. Sending electric waves down Mike’s spine.

“God, I love you.” Mike mumbles against your lips.

Mike Weiss, lawyer, ex-addict, a lover and a father. Oh, how lucky you are to have him, and how blessed he feels to have you.

#angrybirdcr200challenge #buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #mike weiss x reader #mike weiss #mike Weiss x black!reader #black reader insert

190 notes · View notes