#other. the POINT was to just shine some light on the emotional pressure she had been put under. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burstingsunrise · 9 months

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If you managed to process it, I would love to hear a story about your experience at Luke's Fonda show🥰 No pressure though, only if you want😊

funny timing for this, i wrote up a little summary post a while ago and have been kind of working up to posting it.

it's hard, because how do you adequately summarize something that means so much to you? it feels like nothing i say will be enough, but i do want to share some things about it, because i think that will help it feel real. thank u for asking and providing the encouragement. <3 emo bullet points ahead! i tried to focus mainly on show-related things but this experience wasn't just important to me because of the shows, so some of the other stuff sneaks in.

that’s the first thing. it didn’t feel real, and it still kind of doesn’t. because i was only there for a few days, and i spent every morning getting coffee with meg and every night seeing luke perform my favorite album. like…that’s not real. that can’t be real.

accidentally but unsurprisingly coordinating outfits with meg on night one. the scientology recruiter on the sidewalk recognizing us from the day before when we’d walked by.

stress buying armloads of merch from an incredibly patient and probably at least somewhat high guy who immediately forgot about me, but who i will probably forever remember fondly.

roy and the mustard having a chat in the balcony.

standing in the crowd waiting for the first show to start. all of the anticipation mixed with all these different emotions, and then finally luke appears on stage. sings the opening of a beautiful dream. the lights shine on him more brightly as it crescendos and we finally get a good look at him. i turn to meg and i say “he’s so sparkly.”

comedown on night one. hearing “let me see all the things that i was supposed to see” while i was there. seeing it.

being able to look over at meg meaningfully when certain things happened during the shows, including but not limited to luke’s gratuitous displays of ass. poetic, really.

leaving the venue night one, in a daze. one of the security guys saying “have a good night” on our way out the door. he had no idea. no fucking idea what we’d just been through. have a good night! now that your lives have been changed forever! sausages on the sidewalk.

collapsing in the hotel lobby, quietly reviewing photos and videos, actually being able to do it openly and to talk about it or not talk about it, and to finally start to have it sink in.

staying up way too late, and eventually falling asleep in my new luke shirt.

the woman with the intense boston accent who hopped on the elevator and immediately asked me if the hotel had a coffee shop with a level of desperation in her voice that spoke to me deeply.

finding sam and meghna in line for night two, and the strange euphoria of speaking openly about things I almost never can to people i just met, but also already knew. being annoying and posting the same palm trees. wishing it would have worked out for emie to be there too.

grabbing meg’s hand to pull her into the crowd on night two. the feeling of relief. somehow we did it. two nights, two shows, two opportunities for everything to go wrong, but actually everything (or at least the things that mattered most) went right.

every time luke gazed our direction, on night two, which felt like a lot, and how every time it was kind of unbearable in the best way. because it’s him and because he was singing songs that mean so much to me while it felt like he was staring into my soul, and because i could look over at meg and know she knew exactly what i was feeling.

the shows going by so fast. i tried so hard to be in the moment and appreciate every second, but it was such a strange, out of body experience. this was something i’d daydreamed about and pictured in my head, but i never thought it was a real possibility. and even in my daydreams, i couldn’t fathom being that close to luke and being there with meg while it happened. it felt surreal that these things were actually happening to me.

the way luke smiled during the breakdown in mum, but also looked like he was dying so beautifully during place in me. admiring his large mouth during slip away. (it really does some riveting things to hit those points of emphasis.)

all the times he ran his hands through his hair to push it back off his forehead. all the times it fell right back where it was. the way he started the shows with it styled, but by comedown it was already just a perfect mess.

his silver nails and his new necklaces and the way his eyes sparkled.

night two, when luke started singing the new bloodline verse. that moment of “what is this? i don’t know this?” it hits different when it’s a song you know so well it’s like it’s a part of you, and suddenly there’s something new to it. thinking about those new lyrics, where they came from, how long they’ve existed, when and why luke decided to add them in, but just for night two.

the talking breaks, ranging from “i’m fuckin’ terrified” early on night one to “can you see my nipples in this shirt” late on night two. octopuses hanging from the ceiling. he didn’t know if anyone would like the album. but he knows we like to scream. making the album was such a very him thing to do, and it’s friday, and he’s in love.

the confetti cannon going off during starting line on night two, being positioned so it rained confetti into my hair, into my purse, down my shirt. it was blue and white and silver because of course it was, because luke thinks about these things.

his smiles and waves and little bows at the end. the shuffle step off stage and the way i watched his back disappear into the darkness until i couldn’t see him at all.

spending both shows with my hands clasped over my heart. it wasn’t a conscious choice. it’s just where they landed.

being stuck in the crowd after the night two show ended, surrounded by groups of people taking pictures of each other’s mascara tears or lying facedown in the confetti. seeing myself in some of those photos a few days later on twitter. and not just those photos - photos from the stage too. the photo luke posted (and took down). and the photo where meg and i are looking up at him with lovestruck smiles.

walking down hollywood boulevard at night, almost silent. walking down the other side of hollywood boulevard the next night, dodging drunk people, talking about luke’s nipples.

making the most absurd pouty face and waving pathetically on the elevator as i left meg on the 9th floor for the last time, then trying not to sob stepping out onto the 16th.

the trip home. feeling physically awful from several days living on iced lattes, kind bars, and no sleep. emotionally drained, sad to be leaving luke and la and meg. sitting at the airport, wishing i could be with my friends at the beach instead.

getting home, unpacking, tucking away my confetti for safekeeping. so incredibly happy but also so devastated to know that it really is possible to have it all, but only for a few days. grateful i had the chance at all, and that it worked out as well as it did.

#sorry this is much more earnest than my usual tumblr vibes it's just really important to me #i feel like i ended on kind of a downer there but i don't mean for it to be #it was just such an incredible experience and i'm so happy i had it at all #it's just a little hard trying to return to Reality afterwards u know #when you know what's possible #but instead you have to go to work #and live across the world from the person who gets you #and not see luke standing in front of you every day #so it's probably a little heavy on the wistfulness #also it's really hard to put into words the actual luke of it all #the shows themselves #i can pick out details but actually conveying the hugeness of the experience is impossible #but i'm very grateful for this ask giving me the opportunity to try #i have all these videos on my phone that i keep watching like evidence #trying to convince my brain it was real and i was there #live at the fonda #lhafc #ask #anon #sidenote it's bizarre seeing twitter stans in the wild #with the livestreams and everything i can't really think of anything that's like #"new” in terms of what went on at the shows to share but ama i'm happy to expand on the mustard

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notyetbulletproof · 2 years

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I think about how Anthony hasn’t let anyone see him break. Nor has Kate. How they walk out of rooms and step into quiet unseen places to panic or fall apart. How Anthony literally leaves the room in a huff (others often mistaking he is angry or upset) to ensure his anxieties are seen by no one. How Kate leaves in indignation (seemingly so) and is hyper-defensive when confronted but is really trying desperately to reign in her emotions. How they both (sometimes one better than the other) had to teach themselves how to regulate, how to calm down. Not always in the most healthy of ways. Kate never plays small with anyone EXCEPT (arguably the most important people in her life) - her family. Pushing down her needs to serve theirs. They’ve let her. Whether intentionally or not, they’ve let her dull her shine so they can shine. Anthony takes on every responsibility till he breaks. Whether intended or not, his family yells to be free of him but still require him to help them navigate scandals and the uncharted waters of what it means to exist in society in the roles and positions they have been afforded. No one really sees them (Kate or Anthony). No one truly knows them. It’s not that no one wants to. It’s that they became too good at being what other people needed (not always what people wanted), they stopped being who they themselves wanted to be. “Consumed by the expectations of others” or consumed by ensuring their siblings/family would never know a harsher fate. Doing everything in their power to ensure they had choices and freedoms (and yes to some degree not seeing the irony in the controlling nature doing that would entail).

All this to say that no one really saw them in their moments of weakness. Its not that no one had called them out or pointed out certain insecurities (Simon, Lady Danbury, Violet, the rude ass that is Lady Sheffield all knew where to hit) but no one had really seen them crack until each other. More importantly, no one had guided them through it like each other. Yes, in Season 2, Kate guided and soothed Anthony more than he did her but that could easily be attributed to the story focus being on Anthony and the whole POV thing. Which is why we’re all praying for better Kate coverage next season as she steps into her role as Viscountess. Come on! There is so much to tell with those parallels thanks. Still we see it in the Library, we see it in him standing up to the Sheffields (they attacked Kate and Kate’s family and he would not stand idly by as they continued to do so), we see it in the closet, we see it post bungled wedding ceremony as the families promenade. We see it in the gazebo before sexy times ;).

Anthony chooses Kate and asks her to stay. To be seen, to step into the light. And he shows her that he’ll stand with her. Stay with her. Show up for her. Support her. Kate saw him panicking and immediately switched from annoyed to ANGEL okay? She recognised his fear and did not judge him for it or push to know why immediately, she was kind and patient and focused on helping him navigate his first public panic attack. The only other person to possibly catch on to how to do this (a little) was everyone’s favourite Brother- and quite frankly before Kate (and Simon through the Oxford years), Anthony’s Best Friend- Benedict. Still was that because Benedict is observant and takes notice of people and always knows what people need in any given situation. He didn’t know what was going on exactly but he found a way to give Anthony what he needed- respite and time away from the incessant questions. Yet the only ones Kate and Anthony had allowed to see them like that in years—- were each other. Before eventually, their respective Mothers (which is a big deal in and of itself) but it’s a pretty big and important thing to share and it just adds to the complexity of their dynamic and their importance to the other. More importantly their traumas don’t cancel out the other or worse add pressure to each other. There is no co-dependency. They are not enabling the self-destructive tendencies of the other person. Instead these are 2 people who survived one way for so long that meeting each other jolted them awake and loving each other forced them to confront the parts of their coping strategies that no longer served them. That’s not to say they’re all whole and healed but they’re trying to heal. They’re trying to be present and enjoy the life they worked so hard to maintain and enjoying it together. Being happy in a way they never allowed themselves to be before. Letting love in, choosing themselves and choosing each other and taking it all in step by step, day by day, sharing the load and supporting each other. They cannot fight their demons for each other but they can stand with each other as they fight and navigate the effects of the traumas that shaped them. They can hold each other accountable. Challenge each other. Support each other. Love each other.

#okay I’m getting emotional in my ramble #gonna stop #Kate Sharma #Kathani Sharma #Anthony Bridgerton #Kanthony #Kathony #Anthony x Kate

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hdmason · 1 year

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No training today?

Word count: 1,358

When practice was cancelled, Mason was immediately concerned. What was wrong? Was there some sort of emergency? Did someone die? His head was jumping to all sorts of conclusions until he was called in for some impromptu meeting and his worries only continued. Was he in trouble? Did he finally say the wrong thing to the wrong person and it got to the higher ups?

He was ready to instantly apologize when they made a turn towards one of the rooms with a stage. They wouldn’t be chastising him in one of those rooms, would they? Then he walked into the room and realized there were tons of other trainees with him, even some of his closest friends here. He tried to hide the relief on his face; there was no way all of them were in trouble.

He looked around at all the staff there, including the both famous and infamous Takahashi Asami. Mason was a fan of #TAG, so he had been starstruck when they first met, but that feeling faded after a few rough rehearsals; she was not someone you wanted to get on the bad side of. And then, there was 365′s own Kwan, standing silently and seeming to be eyeing every one of the trainees up and down. Once again, starstruck, but he did his best to hide it. This had to be something huge.

Then, they started explaining, and Mason had to pinch himself. Was this real? Was this it? Was this the chance that Mason had been waiting for?

Then, when Mason’s name was a part of both of the boy groups, he tried to keep his surprised face to a minimum, though he was always shit at hiding his emotions. At first, he thought it was maybe a mistake, perhaps just a slip up on some poor overworked office worker’s part. But nope, there he was. He was given a part in both songs. This was going to mean twice the work, twice the rehearsals, and twice the pressure. For the briefest of moments, Mason was terrified out of his mind. He was probably going to get no sleep until the projects completed, if not in official rehearsals, then running himself ragged in a practice room himself. It was going to be a huge undertaking, probably the biggest of Mason’s life.

But then, he thought about it for a second and realized what a blessing this was. He didn’t know why he had been given twice the opportunities as the other boys, but he did. Two songs, two chances to shine and to prove that he was ready to debut, or at least headed in the right direction. He covered his face with his hands for a second so he could smile huge before putting his hands back down and focusing back on the meeting at hand. He spent all of his energy trying to keep his joyous thoughts from racing and get all the details of the projects he was now a part of; every detail was important.

Once the meeting was over, Mason celebrated with his friends for a while before excusing himself and heading outside. Once he was alone, he pumped both fists, letting out a sound that was some sort of mix of a squeal and a shout. It was as if he couldn’t contain his excitement anymore and needed to let it out through some strange sound he wasn’t sure he had ever made before. He flapped his hands back and forth to get out some of his energy before taking his phone out. But then, even after stimming, his hands were still shaking from excitement. He closed his eyes and reached up, placing four fingers on specific points on his face and lightly pressing them inwards, taking deep breaths to calm himself down (a method he learned from his therapist; a great way to help him either prevent a meltdown or, in this case, to help keep his excitement to a manageable level). Once he felt like he would be able to explain what happened without speaking at the speed of light and keep his hand stable, he went into his contacts and pressed the button to call his mom.

She had barely gotten out a “Hi Sweetie-” before Mason went off.

“Mom! You’re not going to believe this! Okay, so rehearsals were cancelled today, right? And at first, I’m freaking out because ‘what the hell? They don’t cancel rehearsals except for emergencies, right?’ And then, I was called into a meeting, and like I was so scared, I was like ‘shit, I finally said something that pissed off the wrong person and I’m getting in trouble for it...” He took a shallow breath to get just enough air to continue. His mother didn’t say a word; she knew better than to try and interrupt Mason when he got like this.

“... but no! There were tons of us in there! Jamie and Robby and Haneul and a bunch of us, so there was no way we were all getting in trouble for something, right? And, Mom, I shit you not, Kwan from 365 was there! And I’m trying to keep my cool but like this has to be a big deal, right? So I just let them talk and Mom... it’s a special project! They assigned us original songs, Mom! Original songs! Like a real group would get! We get to work with Kwan personally on vocals! And they talked about people who would be watching us when we perform, and there’s gonna be CEOs, producers, influencers, reporters, scouts, all people that could get me to debut! And that’s not even the best part! There were two boy groups assigned, right? But Mom, I’m in both of them! I don’t know why, maybe they’re just trying to see how much I can handle? I’m not sure but I get two opportunities! I get to show my stuff in two different songs! I don’t even care if I get very many lines or whatever if they get to see me dance andthesongsareprobablygoingtobedifferentconceptsandI’msofuckingexcited!”

Well, so much for “not speaking at the speed of light.”

Once he gave her a moment to respond, his mother was as calm and collected as Mason wasn’t. “Oh that’s great honey!” Then, a pause, and Mason preemptively rolled his eyes; he knew a “but” was coming. “... but that sounds like a lot of work, are you sure-”

“Mom, please don’t turn this into a worry session...” he groaned.

“It’s not that I don’t have total faith in you, Mason, you are talented and wonderful and you deserve this, I just... I know how you are when you don’t get enough sleep, and-”

“I know, Mom,” he stopped her, his excitement dying slightly at her words. “But I also know how I am when I don’t get enough sleep. I’m aware, and knowing that beforehand makes it so that I’m prepared before going in. Look, I promise to get as much sleep as I can, okay?”

“And eating three meals a day?”

A pause on Mason’s part, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to promise that; that didn’t even happen every day under normal circumstances. Plus, he didn’t want to lie to his mother.

“Mason?”

“I’ll... do my best.”

“Mason...”

“It’s not guaranteed, Mom! Training is a serious business!”

“Mason!”

It was amazing how this woman could put so much meaning behind just her son’s name.

“Mom, please, I said I’ll do my best, isn’t that the most you can for?”

He could hear her sigh into the receiver, but she still said “Alright, you’re right. And you know how proud I am of you, right?”

His smile returned as he looked at the ground. “Thanks, Mom.” He nodded with conviction as he said “This is it.” He could feel his eyes start to water but he willed them to stop. “I can feel it. I’m so close I can taste it.”

“You’ll get there, sweetheart, I believe in you.”

And that was it. That was all he needed. He would make it happen. He had to.

#solo #italics means english #tw death #tw eating disorder #NOT REALLY JUST WANT TO BE SAFE

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candygurl-gumdropz · 2 years

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Photo of me hijacking the next Pokémon Staff Meeting:

(This isn’t just a way for me to get your attention with a popular meme, lol)

This is something that’s been bothering me and I’ve only seen a few other people say it, but I feel like it should be more widespread:

If you wanna do a story-focused Pokémon game, then you gotta have actual protagonists. Not just nameless blank canvases!

While the blank-slate player character worked for gens 1-4, where the main focus was the mechanics and other playable features, things started to get a bit more dull for gens 5-6, where weaker characters came in and got a lot more focus.

Gen 5 at least had Bianca, who had a really good arc for me and other memorable characters, such as Elesa and Lenora, who both played some part in the story. I’d consider this the transitioning point for the series. N was pretty good as well.

Gen 6 itself was fine, since it introduced mega evolution and kept the focus on the battles. However, most of the characters were as dull as dishwater. Not good for a game that had quite a bit of more and story.

Gen 7 has the biggest issue with this. The protagonist barely emotes and they’re basically dragged around by the other characters who also barely get any development. Hell, there’s no fossil pokemon and the story is extremely boring. You’re more like an audience member to other people’s boring stories than anything else.

I’m not gonna go into the Ultra Games, as while they do fix some of my gripes and add some neat feature, the same criticisms apply.

Exceptions go to Lillie, Hau, and Gladion, who had pretty compelling stories and character arcs. So, why not just put us through either Lillie’s or Hau’s story? They both live in the same starter village and a different story depending on whether they’re a boy or girl would give people reason to replay the game.

Kukui could reccomend that Lillie takes part in the island trials. She then goes through a story of defying her mother, finding herself, and learning to take care of Nebby. On the other hand, Hau realizes that he doesn’t have to be like his grandfather and he forged his own path. Both ending in defeating the evil and becoming the first Pokémon champion. You can still dress them up and change their “nickname”, but they’re still their own character that you play as. (And you still get to pick their team and battle, of course)

I don’t wanna do a whole rewrite of Sun and Moon (right now), but just shine a light on how these games had two protagonists ready to be player characters and that it was kinda wasted.

Basically, take a note out of Mystery Dungeon’s book, Gamefreak. The protags don’t have to be fully named and pre-designed characters like I used, but at least give them some dialogue and some personality. Why do they want to go on this journey? Are they being pressured into it?

I’m not gonna go into Sword and Shield, since it’s a can of worms on it’s own.

Thanks for reading!

#Pokémon #pokemon #pokémon #spoilers #rant #Pokémon spoilers #pokémon sun and moon

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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What they love about you (part 1) [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti x female reader

Part 2 here

(A/n): Okay okay I know I have some requests yet I decided to write something super indulgent. I'M SORRY! This past week I've just been writing so much angst *looks at inbox* AND MORE ANGST TO COME I really need that dose of Vitamin F(luff) 😭

===========================

Noctua's Heartbeat (Diluc)

For a man who had the whole world in the palm of his hand

With looks, fame and all the wealth he could demand

But what stole away his breath was something not to be bought

For it was merely the calming presence of your living and beating heart.

Your heart was a dignity born for empathy, so beautiful and magnificent with the kind of charm similar to white Cecilias blooming across Mondstadt's fields. Diluc would watch from afar, admiring their glow. It shines without reservation, blissfully unaware to a fault that he couldn't help but feel afraid knowing how the real world would simply pluck you from your roots and shape you in the way they wanted to. People who were tainted souls with tainted soles roaming from the shadows, constantly trampling on other's beliefs before leaving them to rot.

Ah but of course, Cecilias are wildflowers. No matter how many times they were stepped on, they could still withsand any force nature throws at them. Whether it'd be raging storms or scorching heat from the summer sky, you were the same through it all. Love. You were in love. You were in love with the wind, you were in love with people, you were in love with the world and everything that lives in it.

And so, Diluc wonders if that was the reason why everything suddenly began to shimmer.

He treaded on a path fated for loneliness while longing for the dawn to appear out of the night horizon-- where emotions once frozen until you came in to melt the ice. He blocked his heart but you tore down those walls. Diluc swore to never feel if it meant protecting himself and yet you held onto his shattered pieces tenderly, dearly, blowing the love of life and teaching it how to beat again.

Your heart was like a fountain of all the hopes he abandoned years ago and the dreams that no one had the courage to envision, cleansing everything within it's reach and freshening them anew. You were a being so in tune with your emotions that it sang through all that you did, laughing despite your obstacles and shedding tears when overjoyed, a single drop it was but still held the depth of the entire ocean. Diluc vows to protect you for your heartbeat was also his own. He'll gladly lay down his life because losing you deemed far worse than any death he could imagine.

~xx~

The other eye of Pavo Ocellus (Kaeya)

The knight's shining armour serves only as a disguise

When beauty from the surface is one's own demise

He used it to protect himself, decorating his words with pretty lies

But unmatched when facing against your truthful eyes.

They say the eye was an open window to a person's true colours. If that were the case then the painting inside him must have been an unsightly one.

Every once in a while the people of Mondstadt would speak about their Cavalry Captain's eyepatch, whether he was injured after being sent out on a mission or if he wears it for the sake of image. No one knows, it was rather unsettling, why someone would cover their eye despite not being injured. Secrets? Perhaps. Kaeya was known to be a man shrouded in mystery after all.

Your gaze was his Death After Noon. Sparkling upon the surface yet with the tasteful allure so captivating that it was almost dangerous. Just one glance and he was intoxicated, eventually leading to a slip of the tongue, revealing what was buried deep within his contaminated essence. Kaeya hated that you had the uncanny ability to see through his mask. Your innocence so contrasting, he felt like looking into a mirror, reminding just how much of an ugly person he truly was in comparison.

But mirrors are easy to break, no?

The thought delivers a sinister smile on his face. Pitiful-- is the state where you were. Pitiful-- it's what he is. How could he think of such things when all you offered was kindness? Unlike Kaeya, you were an honest person, always wearing your emotions on your sleeve and unaware of the devil's vicinity. He was tempted by the invite to crush you and run away like the coward he was meant to be. However as he stares deeply into your eyes he realized they weren't made of glass. They were gems. The most precious gems hardened by the pressures of experience.

In the shine of thine eyes resides the stars and the moon as if stolen from the Abyss, leading to the edges of the universe that was blessed within your mind. The look of curiosity filled with rich hues all held by a soulful stare while they pierced through the armour shaped around his heart. It was your ability to recognize beauty amongst the most wretched of things that he fell so hopelessly in love with you because for the first time someone had seen him-- his flaws and his faults, his abyss painted darker than black but loved him despite it all. As he drowns himself in the world of your gaze, Kaeya prays to never be the one who will steal away those stars or moon because they looked the most beautiful on you.

~xx~

The Winged Nemesis who flew towards the Sun (Xiao)

He looks at your face as if he saw spring for the first time

An unsual encounter, wondering how could something be so sublime

The yaksha stands upon the corpses while reaching for the sky

Seeing the sun in your smile that he wishes to fly

Xiao has dealt with the cards of death and won through many of it's games. But his life was a gamble as the karmic binds may one day bring the same fate that was done upon his comrades-- insanity, murder and corruption. So he swears an oath to his god and himself, ensuring the darkness only he could bear does not seep into the light.

A gust of wind sways in when you pass by, he was struck by pensive bewilderment because happiness was a feeling unknown to him. It was the expression you made whenever you greeted him good morning. The complexion you had while charging through life's challenges. And the face you wore even during the times where there was no reason to smile. Xiao has felt the might of the sun for her light will never be exstinguished by his darkness, he could only succumb to it.

But you were not just the sun, you were the flowers that bloomed beneath her heavenly sky and the birds that chirped upon those earth-like trees. You were a whole new world he didn't dare to touch because dreams were delicate and his cursed self would only devour them until nothing was left. Still, the mighty sun shines through it all, stretching out her rays like a welcoming embrace until the universe had been revitalized, giving birth to new life after winter's storm.

If pictures told a thousand words then he had a thousand reasons and more to love you. Xiao witnessed the sweetest joy decorated by pink petal blossoms dancing around him, the one who pulled him out of his spiraling trance of darkness. The breath he takes no longer felt suffocating and instead was replaced by the smell of nature's greatest gifts: you. Stay away, he says, because there were times where you shone so brightly that he had to look elsewhere. Your rays burned him and he thinks it might drill holes into his wings. Painful it may be but if the splendor of spring could only be admired after the harsh cold snow, then maybe pain and love were only two sides of the same coin.

A world without the sun--such unfathomable thoughts--is a death he does not wish to deal with.

~xx~

A song she sings for the God of Wind (Venti)

Man lives by the power of the tongue,

Whatever Man speaks is aligned with Man's choice.

Hearken when she talks for her words are to be sung,

Because not only was she lovely but so was her voice.

-Venti

There were many reasons why Venti loved music. The freedom to express oneself when words weren't enough, allowing one's spirit to flow out of their mouth and be with the wind. It was the feeling he had when he listened to you because your voice was sweeter than any song he sang or played.

When you speak it was as if the world around you danced, bringing them to the mercy of your stage. Like standing upon the soft grass while letting the sparks of dandelions dust against his own skin, Venti would close his eyes as he hears you speak-- it was you, just you and that was all he needed. He swears that no one in the world could sound as living as you did because it was the words you say that stole his heart away.

The vibration in your tone was fleshed with kindness yet so sure and firm to the point it could even bring a god to his knees. If he were a sailor then you were the siren, enchanting him with your bell-like voice and bringing him to a territory where he can never escape from. It was the spell of your divine song, his Carmen Dei, that tricked the trickster. Venti did not mind as long as he was able to feel the blessing amongst his ears.

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writella · 4 years

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Touch

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

Summary: Luke’s spirit is brought down by the pain he has caused his parents as well as the hardships that come from adoring you, a lifer. He craves your touch but his ghostly form keeps him from getting the thing he most desires to recieve.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: First fic! Sorry that it's kind of long. I don’t know if this would be considered “angsty” but it is kind of sad in the beginning but trust me it becomes really sweet at the end!

Julie and the Phantoms was such a good show. I loved how the writers and Charlie showed that despite how positive Luke was, he was harboring a lot of pain inside when it came to how he left him mom that he didn’t show anyone. This piece touches on that point a little bit more. If you would like to leave a review, that would be super appreciated. I’m sure there are a bunch of grammar errors anyway.

Luke came to you after he left Julie at his parents house. He told you about the song to his mom, about how his parents still celebrated his birthday after all these years. He told you about the grief he felt and how he felt like he had no one. You told him that he had you, and Julie, and the guys most importantly, that you were sure they missed their family members too. He admitted to you though, that both Alex and Reggie avoided talking about their family, it was one of the only things that they weren’t being honest about with each other. He said he couldn’t be the one to bring it up.

“I’m the strong one!” He explained. “If I don’t push them forward, they’ll fall apart. I have to be happy, I have to be okay so they-“

“It’s okay not to be okay all the time, Luke,” You interrupt him, then you send him a sympathetic smile as you come to a realization: “I didn’t know you put all this pressure on yourself... I’m sorry. Come here,” without thinking you motion him forward, arms reaching to grasp his back, only catching handfuls of air.

Luke gives you an exasperated laugh, in the heat of it all, he almost forgot for a second himself.

“Well, this is a strange little relationship we have, isn’t it?” Tears swipe down his cheek.

“Luke...” you didn’t know how to respond, you cursed yourself for making the situation worse.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Or whenever. Alright?” His words were short as he forced a smile and disappeared from your sight.

You woke up from your haze and caught your eyes staring out the window, looking at the boy you were just thinking about. He sat on an old brown chair right next to the garage door. Julie took some down that hung from the garage ceiling a few nights ago for him. She said she got tired of seeing Luke crouching down on the concrete like a sad lost puppy.

“Why don’t you just stop avoiding him and finally go down there?” Julie sighs. “Maybe you’ll have better luck than me.”

“Than all of us.” Alex chimed in.

You were hesitant but as Julie pushed you to the door it seemed as if you had no choice.

“You’re our only hope.” Reggie said with a sad smile, echoing a quote from his favorite franchise.

As you walked toward Luke, his gaze on the night sky never faltered.

“You don’t have to say anything... Just want to be with you. Alright?” You said softly as you sat down on the chair next to him. You decided you were only going to keep him company, not dwell on what happened. You remembered what he said about always having to be the strong one, you guessed that’s what you were trying to do now.

He only slightly nodded, not wanting to look you in the eye. He was surprised you’d finally come. Everyone, Reggie, Alex, and Julie had come to sit with him from time to time, getting nothing out of him. He sort of wished you finally would show up but now that you’re here, he couldn’t say anything despite how much he wanted to. He tried to urge the words to his tongue but his apprehension kept them stuck inside his brain. He bounced his knee, his frustration as well as your closeness was getting to him.

He knew he shouldn’t have been ignoring you, you must’ve felt as bad as he did but he needed some time to think. Maybe just a day, he reasoned, just to go through the motions by himself and then wake up going back to his easy going self again the next morning. This is what he told himself, yes, but then a day became another, and then another.

It surprised him, how out of it he was. Usually, it was so easy for him to find the courage to remain optimistic but right now he just felt like a disappointment. He was usually able to thrive upon this fact, a 90s misfit, nowhere to go but up. He loved the idea that one day his band’s talent would shine so brightly everyone would have no choice but to see their beauty. And it didn’t come from anger, Luke was never a resentful person, it came from a place of purity. He wanted his music to make people feel connected; understood, just like it had for him. Or like it has for him up until now. He hadn't been able to play in days.

The bittersweet melody of Unsaid Emily became the mantra that invaded his brain this past week. Every time the song came to an end, his mind replayed the lyrics again, and again; an endless loop. And with that came the images of his parents, blowing out a birthday candle with misty tears in their eyes, thinking of their boy they believed they lost forever. And then there was you, of course. The prettiest girl he’d ever seen, who laughed at his confusing metaphors, and built him up when he was feeling down which was something he usually had to do for others. Ever since he met you, you were there for him in a way no one else had been. The thought almost relieved his pain. Could this truly be love? He had dated around before but never had he been in a real relationship. After finding the guys, the band was all he thought about, the only connection he felt he needed. Plus, he just had to prove to his mom that he could make it, and that took all of his attention. Another mistake, he thought.

Once again he revisits the memory of your arms going through him. Not only could he never apologize to his parents but he couldn’t even love one of the only people on Earth who could actually see him the way he wanted to. Never had he felt so completely helpless. He wanted you to know that he didn’t want to give up. He needed you to know that you were enough, but he was fearful to try anything despite how desperately he wanted touch. He even counted the ways he could do it in his head: perhaps he’d lightly stroke your knee, softly rub his thumb on your intertwined hands, maybe brush your hair behind your ear with his fingers lingering till he felt the last strand of hair slip away. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d even give you the softest kiss. One so pure and light, because while he was a ghost, he thought of you as an angel and he believed an angel deserved a touch just as delicate, but he couldn’t. He was dead.

It had been an hour of you two sitting in silence. You stared at him and sighed. You thought he was beautiful. You could go on endlessly about the physicality of that beauty but what really tugged on your heart was what was inside. His mind, his body, his soul, that was bound in optimism. You’d never seen anything like it. Right from when Julie met him, she told you, he put the realization of being dead, of being a ghost, behind him just to help her become a part of the music program again, giving her the words of encouragement, it’s a closed door, but you’ve gotta bust it open!

You felt terrible that you were a part of the reason why his spirit was currently crushed. You desperately wanted touch. You wanted him to know you were there for him but you knew words weren’t enough.

Screw it, you thought. You were going to try again and even if it didn’t work you were ready to tell him that you didn’t care, that seeing was all you needed to be with him. You wanted him to know that you weren’t giving up. You needed him to know that he was enough, fear wasn’t going to stop you.

You reached for his knee. Trying to touch the tips of his hand that laid there with yours, ready for the sensation of air to swoosh between your fingertips but then, just then, you... felt. First it was the tips of nails, then fingers, and as he turned his hand, eyes bulging wide, you felt his palm. You held it there for a second, soon sliding your palms together, you intertwined your fingers with his. You were actually holding hands.

Luke’s mouth went agape and you met his eyes, sharing the same look of disbelief. Seeing a tear roll down the right side of his face you realized your emotions mirrored his as one dripped down on the left side of yours. He wiped it away with his thumb, gripping your face a little more roughly than he intended to, the excitement apparent in his shaky hands.

He soon loosened his grip, now caressing your cheek, creating friction as he rubbed back and forth, replacing the chill of the night air on your skin with warmth. His fingers, then moved to your chin, then he poked your nose, brushed his fingertips against your eyelashes, till he finally rolled them against your lips, slowly. He couldn’t believe he felt you. The feeling was something even a dream couldn’t conjure up, something that even he couldn’t describe in a lovely song lyric; this was perfection; this was, indeed, love.

This revelation brought with it courage and with that he finally willed himself up off that chair and yanked your arm that was connected to your still intertwined hands with it and at once you became one with a hug. One so fierce and tight you couldn’t breath, his arms crushing your shoulders, his hands caressing your head, his fingers falling on the strands of your hair.

With one arm still around you, he moved one of his hands against your cheek once more, connecting his forehead to yours. You both relished in the closeness, breathing each other in.

“If I ever cross over, I bet this is what heaven feels like,” he said in a soft whisper, finally breaking the silence, but only adding to the moment’s loveliness. “I think you’re connected to my soul.”

Thank you for reading!

#luke patterson x reader #luke jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms fic #my work #luke patterson #luke jatp #sunset curve #luke patterson fic #luke patterson imagine #luke jatp imagine #luke jatp fic #touch starve #touch starved #touch starve! luke #touch starved! luke

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

I just finished reading all your Haikyuu Kitsune fics and I am obsessed. I was wondering what would happen if kitsune Suna just kidnapped the reader one night and she just wakes up in his Kitsune village tied up lol.

(╯‵□′)╯︵💗

Glad you enjoyed them! Thanks for reading & requesting ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You were awake for a while already, pondering, when you finally heard the door to the basement open again. Even though you felt exhausted and anxious after the last few hours that you spent alone in the dark, you still mustered up the strength to glare, enough hatred in your gaze that the person entering the basement should have dropped dead if looks could kill. Person? Entity? You weren’t sure how to title him, but any name that came to mind wasn’t a very friendly one.

“You’re scrunching up your face... again,” he noted, and now pointed out, you grimaced even more. Suna either didn’t want to understand why you were looking at him, clearly finding discomfort in your gaze as he opted to avoid your eyes, or he decided to play dumb. Whichever it was, it only made you angrier!

“Seriously...” he mumbled, sighing deeply before placing down the tray he had been carrying, on a barrel next to the stairs. The whole basement was stuffed with things that seemed like they had been standing there for a while, unused and covered in thick layers of dust. Some of the stuff looked like ancient versions of modern tools for farming, but with that man nearby, your whereabouts were your slightest worry.

“I got you some food.”

Placing a spoon into the bowl he had brought, he stirred it briefly, a gooey, thick substance dripping of the cutlery when he lifted it into the light of the candle accompanying him. You, right away, felt anything but hungry, even if you assumed it was just oatmeal. Still, judging from the looks of it, you couldn’t find even one thing that was appetizing about it.

Taking the bowl with him, he walked over to you, a hand reaching out towards your face as you reacted, pushing yourself backwards until your back hit another barrel behind you. The metal chains wrapped around your wrists rattled upon your stir, making Suna flinch away for a second, his whole body stiffening as he looked back over his shoulder and up the staircase. He remained silent for a moment as if he waited for the door to open, but nothing happened.

“Don’t be too loud,” he reminded you for what must have been the fiftieth time since he threw you over his shoulder and made a run for it to this place, a strange, abandoned village in the forest. “They could hear you. Just be warned that other than me, my kin might eat you on the spot.”

Part of you wanted to call this a bluff—just a trick to keep you quiet. But knowing how unpredictable he was, you didn’t want to get to know any other ‘of his kin’ either. This time, you drilled a hole into the hand slowly approaching your face, strained your neck to get it off you. But lastly, he managed to pull on the cloth wrapped around your head and gagging you, making you fear more scratches from the claws on his fingers.

You didn’t know it was possible to feel sore around your mouth but being free of the gag it was the painful reality you were facing. “Eat,” Suna decided, gathering the gunk of a meal on his spoon before lifting it to your lips. “Fuck off!” you hissed at him quickly, turning your head away and making him struggle to hold the spoon properly, dripping its contents everywhere.

“I am doing this for you, you know?” he growled as you two fought over whether you were going to eat or not. Until Suna had enough, his second hand much quicker and less careful in its approach as it clipped over your nose, pulling you forward. You didn’t have enough time to see it coming, gasping as he cut off your air supply and tugged, making you open your mouth wide enough for him to press the spoon forward.

The taste of unseasoned oats and the wooden spoon mixed with your saliva while you tried not to gag from the slime that seemed to slip right down your throat. Before you knew it, Suna let go of your nose, and you didn’t hesitate to spit out whatever hadn’t been forwarded to your stomach yet, the mass spilling all over the floor.

Disgusted, Suna watched you as you coughed, wishing the taste would pass immediately, not even a hint of understanding in his gaze. “For someone so worried about food, you’re very wasteful. Open up, come on.”

You barely had time to recover as he scooped up another mouthful, but this time you felt ready nonetheless. Clenching your teeth together, you waited for him to do the trick again, deciding you’d rather suffocate than accept any food from him, especially one that you couldn’t be sure where, when, and how it was made.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed the spoon up to your teeth, growing impatient as you wouldn’t open up no matter how much pressure he applied. Suna even gripped your chin from below, trying to slam both forces together, but you persisted. You would have been mighty proud of yourself for resisting if not for the oatmeal getting plastered all over your face, its consistency running down your cheeks and lips as Suna threw away the spoon in frustration.

“Fine!” he gnarled. “You want to show me how tough you are? I can do that too!”

As if on cue, the light flickered before going out, but even just the three seconds that you were able to see his bared teeth - his pointy fangs looking even longer than you imagined them from that time he bit you - scared you. It was the first time, but certainly not the last, that you felt yourself submit to him. Like an animal who tugged in its tail, you flinched away, ducking lightly until all you could see were his golden, shining eyes in the dark. Even if it was just a spur-of-the-moment action, you instantly felt embarrassed and upset you reacted the way you did.

“Good,” he appraised your recoiling motion before he moved closer. You felt his body leaning towards you, the warmth impossible to ignore as his arms caged you on either side, barrel in the back and fox in the front. You felt something wet and rough drag over your chin, lips, and cheek before you felt it trying to intrude on your mouth. Even if you wanted to complain, scream even, you found yourself cut off by Suna exploring the inside and catching your voice, the damn taste of oatmeal back on your tongue with no way of spitting it out.

His arms closed in on your hands, long fingers wrapping around the metal restraints and pulling your shoulders down until your hands pressed against the dirty ground, making it almost impossible to move your body like you wanted. The kiss continued, mouths opening for quick breathers in between, and you had to realize that these fangs weren’t optimal to be used for kissing, your teeth colliding with his a few times, and your lips getting caught on the fangs. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but every time it happened, you felt a spark of pain going through you.

The sounds very quickly changed from sloppy to passionate on his side, soft whines and groans escaping him in the breaks. You felt like you were going to die from either shame or the pain of him ending up dislocating your shoulders as Suna kept pressing in further and further, his chest soon enough resting on yours while your hands hurt from being caught in his grip and bracing against the ground.

All that was left when he very suddenly, very unpredictably, pulled away was the taste of iron as his fang finally managed to rip open a small part of your lip. You cursed inwardly as you took deep breaths, trying to regain air and your composure, while you barely heard him whisper something under his own breath. “... too much,” you made out, coming from him before he turned around, taking deep breaths.

“What the fuck--!” you cursed, but Suna was quick to return to you, clasping his hand over your mouth before listening intently. “Shhh!” he hissed, listening again, just like before. However, this time, you collected all the courage you had in you to bite him in the hand, catching a finger to latch on to. Suna noticeably flinched before he pulled away, seemingly looking at his hand for a split moment in an emotion you couldn’t make out. Still, before long, he clicked his tongue and pressed the gag he had taken off you back in place.

Even if you struggled now, he was stronger than you as well as relentless, and after tying a knot in the back, his hands lingered on each side of your head briefly. You could only see his eyes coming closer, but next thing you knew, you felt another kiss to your exposed lips before he seemed to notice the blood, his tongue coming forth to lick the wound tenderly, different from how he treated you before. “Fuck...” he whispered before he finally let you go and got up, his feet barely making any sound as he moved away.

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t make a sound if you want to survive the night,” were his last words before he swiftly walked up the stairs and out the door, again leaving you behind all by yourself.

What were you supposed to make out of the situation? Why did he bring you here anyway if he was just going to leave you alone? What was ‘too much’, and why did he kiss you again and again? It felt like every time you saw him, you had more questions left unanswered than before. All you knew was that you wanted to go home.

And hopefully, this was just a very awful nightmare you’d soon wake up from.

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Yellow Carnations (Destiny Written in Begonias Part 1)

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Summary: After hearing something deep within the woods, you give into curiosity and investigate. Who knows, whatever you find could be a prize.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly graphic violence (just some zombies getting dismembered)

Word count: 3,715

(A/N): So, welcome to my new series! I have so many ideas for this that I’d love to write. This story will be very gay, fluffy, and sorta angsty, so buckle up my children!

So just a lil background info: the reader is Techno’s adopted daughter. She is a piglin hybrid, but she is more human looking than piglin. This takes place about eighteen years after the most recent events of the SMP.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Techno, I think we have enough ender pearls for tonight.” You glanced to your side to look at your father and Philza, the enchantments of their armor glowing dimly in the moonlight and the orange light of the torches in their hands. Philza stretched his body and his wings out, a small groan escaping his mouth and small cracks sounding from his joints.

“The night’s still young, Phil!” Technoblade grinned, his gold capped canines glinting slightly. His hand moved to gently rest on the handle of his sword.

You snorted to yourself, “you two, however, aren’t.” A small shove came from your side making you stumble slightly, laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t hear anything,” Philza crossed his arms and looked off to the side. Though, you could hear a smile in his tone and the beginnings of a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, “Dad set me up for that one. The opportunity was too good to pass up.”

“I’ll set you up for longer training sessions if you keep going for… ‘opportunities’ like that.” He glanced down at you with amusement glinting in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips.

His statement, though lighthearted, immediately made you stop laughing. You knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t joking; the last time you laughed it off you had to endure two extra hours on top of the four hour sessions you had daily. By the end of the punishment, your arms felt like they were going to fall off.

“No! I take it back, you guys are young! Not a single-”

“You’re digging yourself an early grave if you finish that sentence, kid. Besides, you can’t pass up opportunities like these!”

“I think I’m good for now,” you shivered slightly when a breeze blew past you. It was starting to grow colder as the night dragged on. Technoblade, noticing this, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him securely. Though the Blood God never shows mercy, he couldn’t let his only child succumb to a head cold; that’d just be barbaric.

You jumped at the feeling of the freezing netherite making contact with your bare arm. “Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, “forgot how cold the armor is… We should probably head back, it’s getting cold.”

As your family started to make their way back towards the tundra, banter was exchanged between the three. The journey out of the forest was uneventful, only a few mobs had attempted to attack or sneak behind you. Just as you reached the edge of the forest, a noise caught your attention.

It sounded like it was only a couple of minutes away; so faint that if you weren’t actively listening for it, it would have nearly been lost in the night. If you strained your ears, you could hear the trampling of dry leaves making you assume that there were several people or animals in that area. Alongside it, there was a faint whimpering.

Your curiosity was piqued, just what was making that noise?

“(Y/n), is everything alright?” You looked back at Philza. It seemed that they walked a bit away from you while you stopped at the forest’s edge to listen to the sound.

You absentmindedly nodded, “yeah, Uncle Phil. I think I left my bow back in that clearing when we were taking a break so I’m just going to go grab that. You guys can keep going home, I’ll be right behind you.”

“We can go with you-”

“No, you don’t have to. I’m old enough to go alone.”

Philza and Technoblade then spoke at the same time, “alright, we’ll just meet you there.” “Absolutely not.”

Philza elbowed Technoblade’s side lightly and looked up at him. They were silently communicating with pointed looks and pursed lips, every expression understood completely by the other. You never understood how they did that, even if they raised you. You could remember making a journal dedicated to deciphering their expressions, but you never could truly understand it (that, and ‘nose scrunch and eye narrow’ meant multiple things).

Eventually, Technoblade’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand down his face tiredly, “you know the rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course I do. Fight to win, go for the throat, if you lose your weapon go for the pressure points. You remind me daily.”

He stared at you for a moment before his ear flicked, “don’t take long, we’ll be waiting.” They both turned and started to trudge towards the spruce forest in the distance.

Without a second thought, you ran into the forest with your ears perked. Following the noise was easy, the whimpers had turned into high pitched whines. You leapt over stumps and ducked under low hanging branches as they blocked your way; nothing was going to stop you from finding out what was making that noise.

Eventually, you broke through the trees and found yourself in a grassy clearing surrounded by large stones. If it were spring, you’d imagine wildflowers sprouting everywhere you stepped. A small spring sat in the furthest corner of it, waterfalls cascading over the jagged stones and crashing into the water below. Near the cliffside, a hoard of groaning zombies swarmed something and they were closing in on it. Now, what was it they were attacking?

You quickly unsheathed your golden sword and sprinted towards the hoard. The crunching of the dried, colorful leaves under your feet was enough to drag the zombies’ attention to you.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you made your first swipe at one of their torsos. In an instant, the zombie was bisected and fell to the ground. With a twirl, you slashed at multiple zombies at once. They all collapsed to the ground as their rotting flesh was torn and couldn’t support their crumbling bodies any longer.

As soon as all of the zombies were laying dead on the ground, you wiped your blade off on one of their torn tunics and sheathed it. Taking a step back to look at the bodies littered on the floor, you smirked; this was too easy.

Now, without the obstacles, your prize awaits you. Eagerly, you looked over to see what the zombies were swarming. Instead of the scared villager you were expecting, the person that stood there completely took your breath away.

The woman was wearing a simple white dress with a baby blue shawl shadowing the upper part of her face. Her skin was fair and her face was round, a button nose laid in the center of her face and plump pink lips slightly parted showing off straight white teeth. Curly dark brown hair framed the sides of her face and spiraled down to rest on her shoulders.

She was tall for a human, about five-foot-ten if you were to estimate. Her hands moved to clasp in front of her elegantly, your eyes catching sight of light blue nailpolish decorating her perfectly shaped nails.

Red was starting to dust her cheeks and her breathing was starting to return to normal. That was good, at least she wasn’t going into shock. For someone who nearly got eaten alive by the undead, she looked relatively calm and well put together.

“Are you alright?” You tried to keep your voice even, but there was a light wobble to it. You thickly swallowed, cursing yourself for showing any emotion in front of this stranger. The mask that hid the upper part of your face gave you a sense of security and safety, it hid most of your emotion.

You saw her lips move, but no sound came out. Were you going deaf like your father? You shouldn’t be; you haven’t blown up an entire nation yet. You stepped closer in hopes of hearing her better, “excuse me?”

Her lips curled up into a smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks, “Oh, I just said that I’m fine, nothing else. May I get the name of my knight in shining armor?”

Her voice was soft and light. Though it was on the deeper side, it had feminine, euphonious undertones; it was like honey was dripping out with every word she spoke. Just by the way she spoke, you assumed that she came from the nearby kingdom.

You smirked, playing along with the small game she was setting up. Stepping closer and kneeling, you grabbed her hand and brought it to your lips. Her hands were soft and velvety, a part of you longed to hold it in yours all day long.

Against her knuckles, you spoke, “(Y/n) Blade at your service. And you, my fairest lady?”

“Princess Helen Dahlia Eret, but please, call me Dahlia; Helen was my mother. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You snorted, she was really dedicated to this game. You’d just play along with her, why not? It’s not like you have anything else to do. “Well, princess, it’s about time for you to head back to your castle.”

You looked up at her through your eyelashes and caught sight of the outline of her shadowed features. You could see her purse her lips, “you think I’m lying, don’t you?”

“Forgive me for thinking so, your highness!” You snickered, “the princess shall not step foot outside of her chambers, lest a scrape shall mar her flawless skin!”

She smirked before placing a delicate finger underneath your chin, tilting it upwards. You could feel your face grow hot as she removed her shawl. Ivory white eyes stared back at you smugly, sending a shock through your body. You weren’t sure if the jolt you felt was from her beauty or from the fact that she wasn’t lying.

“Would you like to try again, my knight?” She cooed to you, her other hand coming down to rest on your cheek. You stood up and gaped at her, “oh fuck, you’re actually the princess.”

A part of you wanted to dislike her for her title and for the royal blood that coursed through her veins. That blood tainted her, filling every nook and cranny with vile corruption. “All governments are bad,” Technoblade had taught you early on in your life, “they should, under no circumstances, be trusted.”

Though her parent Eret had been a fair king, always attending to the needs of their people, you were anticipating their corruption. If your memory serves you right, they were the one that betrayed the revolutionaries during the L’manberg Revolution simply because of their thirst for power. If they were a power hungry traitor before, who’s to say that they won’t be blinded by it again?

Every fiber in your body screamed at you to sink your sword through her abdomen to put her down, just like the bloodthirsty hounds that hailed long before her. You could just end her right now, make it quick and just leave her body here. It’d be easy and it would bring chaos to the SMP Kingdom, causing mass paranoia and tearing it apart from within. It’d be delicious, something that would give you a high you’d ride for years. You wanted to paint the grass with her blood, but something deep within you protested.

Filthy blood nourished her body, but that didn’t take away from her sheer and complete beauty or the way she covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her laugh. That did not take away from how she had cupped your cheek moments before, your skin still tingled where her hand was. That didn’t suppress the butterflies that fluttered wildly in your stomach when she stepped into the moonlight.

She put her hand out and smiled, “won’t you accompany me to my castle, my faithful warrior?” You merely put on a cold, uncaring facade and side stepped her.

“...You got yourself here, yes? You can find your way back.”

“Well you see,” she moved to rub the back of her neck and awkwardly chuckled, “I was hoping you know the way back?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped your mouth, something about her made her irresistible. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you just ran blindly into a forest?”

“Hey, you would too if you were being chased by zombies!”

“Excuse me, who was the one that just slaughtered said zombies in under a minute?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.

“I don’t have a sword like you do,” she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at you.

“Even then, I doubt you know how to use one. Here,” you unsheathed the large sword and held it out to her, “I bet you can’t even hold it up.”

“Can too!” She protested before snatching the sword out of your hands. She grunted slightly at the heavy weight, almost dropping it, but she quickly steadied it. Looking up at you with a smug, slightly reddened face, she shook slightly. “See? It’s not that hard.”

You quirked an eyebrow beneath your mask, “oh really?”

“Y-yep,” was all she managed to choke out before she stepped back and dropped the tip. It swung down and buried itself inside the dirt below, scouring the earth as it made contact.

Smirking at her, you took it back with ease, putting it back into its sheath slung around your back. You once again stepped around her and started walking in the other direction.

“Where are you going?!”

“To the castle, you said you wanted me to take you home.”

She rushed to your side and grabbed your arm with both of her hands. They snaked around your bicep and tangled themselves in your cape. You could feel yourself soar at the contact; you had to fight against every instinct to hook your arm with hers. You ripped yourself out of her embrace and put some distance between the both of you.

She crossed her arms and hugged herself, shivering slightly, “how are you not cold?!”

“It’s barely cold out here,” you mentally scolded yourself for being a hypocrite, “you’ll be fine.”

She said nothing and continued to walk. As you got further and further into the forest, she merely started shivering more. You could hear her teeth chattering loudly and could see goosebumps decorating the skin on her bare arms. Sighing, you unhooked your cape and slung it over her shoulders.

She squeaked in surprise at the feeling before realizing that you gave her your cape. She grabbed the edges and pulled it closer to her before snuggling deeper into the cloth; you could feel your heart explode at the small sigh that she let out and the content hum that left her mouth. Just as she looked up at you, you made quick work of looking away. The ground was very fascinating at the moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured. You just curtly nodded, avoiding looking at her.

The walk to the castle was short, luckily she hadn’t run far from her home. Just as the castle walls were in your sights, she tried holding your arm again. Once again, you stepped away from her.

“C’mon,” she chuckled, “I don’t bite.”

“Well I do. You really need to learn not to trust a stranger, princess.”

“Well, we aren’t strangers. We know each other’s names, do we not? And besides, I bet you’re just a massive teddy bear.”

“I don’t know what your teddy bears looked like as a kid, but they certainly weren’t me. If I wanted to, I could take your hand clean off with a single twist and pull,” you growled out. She was silent once more as she led you towards a specific part of the castle.

“...Why are you so defensive? At least treat me like you did before we knew each other!” She unhooked the cape and shoved it towards you. You gladly took it and put it back on. To your sheer embarrassment, you felt joy as you caught a whiff of books and expensive perfume. It smelled like her.

“...I could’ve just left you back there if I wanted to, consider this a favor. Respect is earned, not given. Even to royalty.”

You turned to leave, you cape swishing behind you as you turned. Before you could walk off, a hand on your arm stopped you. “Wait. Even if you’re a massive jerk,” she sighed out, “I still have to thank you. So, thank you for saving my life; I’m indebted to you, my douchey knight.”

She leant up on the tips of her toes and gently placed her lips on your cheek. You froze and watched as she turned on her heel. She walked towards the entrance with several glances back at you, some of them being smug and others being questioning. It was like you were entranced underneath the veil of a spell, unable to move until she disappeared from sight.

The walk home was quiet with no mobs sneaking up on you. The entire time, the memory of her kissing your cheek replayed endlessly in your head. Though the very thing you disliked more than anything was embodied in her, you couldn’t help but fall for the natural charm she had. You were probably just tired, it was getting late into the night after all.

As you walked through the door, you could see Technoblade impatiently waiting for you on the couch. He had a book open in his hand and his half-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his snout.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I just ran into more mobs than I anticipated.”

Technoblade said nothing as his eyes flickered over your body, looking for even the smallest of scrapes. When he didn’t find anything, he nodded to himself and stood up. Tiredly, he walked over to you and ruffled your hair before trudging to his room.

“Are you sure the only thing you ran into was mobs?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “just a lot of zombies.”

He rolled his eyes and gave you a knowing smile before walking over to you. He swiped his thumb across your cheek and showed it to you. It was stained with a light pink color. “In all of the centuries I spent living in this world, not once have I seen a zombie wearing pink lipstick or,” he took your cape in his hand and sniffed it slightly, “cherry scented perfume.”

Your face exploded in heat as you made hasty work of scrubbing your cheek making the older man laugh quietly at you, “all you’re doing is smudging it all over your face. Some warm water and soap will get it off fast… Now, wanna tell me who gave you that?”

You stared at his smug expression and quickly came to the realization that he wouldn’t let this go unless you told him. Or, at least until you told him what happened.

You sighed and started to remove your armor, placing it on the armor stand situated between Philza’s and Technoblade’s armor. You had insisted that the armor stands were in this specific order, it just made sense with the height differences between the members of the household. Since you were between Philza’s and Technoblade’s height at 6’4 (and still growing), it made sense with the order of the armor in terms of size.

You made your way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh, Philza following suit. He gave you a reassuring smile, “whenever you’re ready.”

So you told him everything that had happened that day. Needless to say, Philza was happy for you, asking you questions about the interaction.

“It sounds like she’s perfect for you, kiddo.”

“That’s the thing, Uncle Phil. She isn’t,” you ran a hand down your face and leaned back onto the back of the couch, your head resting on the top of the cushion. You heard Philza shift slightly before he grabbed your hand.

“Now,” he asked gently, “what makes you think that?”

“She’s King Eret’s daughter. Helen Dahlia Eret,” you sardonically chuckled, “I really thought she was just joking when she said ‘princess’.” Every part of you wished that that was a joke. That she would laugh and tell you that it was part of the game she was playing. But no, she just had to be royalty.

“Eret’s better than most, they are a good king,” he reminded you.

“Still, there’s royal blood in her. She’s actively a part of a government… I wanted to kill her on the spot; hell everything in my body was screaming at me to slaughter her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Sometimes, someone is more than the blood inside of them; maybe she isn’t as bad as you think she is. Someone could be born into a family of saints and still destroy everything they touch. On the other hand, someone could be born surrounded by the lowest of humanity and grow up to become the best person you’ll ever meet. You have to understand that blood isn’t everything to a person’s character.”

You didn’t say anything, contemplating what he said. She didn’t seem like someone to rule with an iron fist, and neither did her parent. Tubbo was the first person to come to mind. He was raised by a malicious, tyrannical idiot, a man that had valued absolute power and booze over anything else. Your uncle turned out to be the most caring person you’ve ever met, always making sure that those around him are in a good mood even if he himself wasn’t.

However, it’s best to be cautious of somebody. Your mind flashed back to Wilbur and Dream, the two men rotting away in Pandora’s Vault together until either their time alive is up or time itself expires. They were charismatic and kind on the outside, but on the inside, they are two of the most heinous men you’ve ever met.

It seemed like your mind was running in circles, bouncing between both conclusions like it was being slammed between two surfaces.

“...Do you think you’ll see her again?” Philza asked you, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles and squeezing it comfortingly when you didn’t respond immediately.

You sighed, standing up and walking out of the room, “if the odds are in our favor, we won’t see each other any time soon.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

General taglist (tagged in all fics, comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser @ohworm-writes @localwolfanon @realitycanbeajerk @v10dw4lk3r @esylwen @seraphsema @boiled-onionrings @smolgreenybeany @louistommosnesquickmilk @hyacinthrosearsha @ryxjxnnx @autumnpleaves @ravennightingaleandavatempus @0ton1n @self-righteous-dumbass @a-simp-for-block-people @fortunatelylazystranger @m1lkmandan @mirios-sunflower @ahmya-4 @shinipii @noyasblush @auroraskyfall @cryptocry @hee-hee-haw @blackstar-gazer

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

#philza x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #destiny written in begonias #female reader #x reader #wlw reader #tw: swearing #tw: violence

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sneverussape · 3 years

Note

What kind of person do you think lily was? There's a lot said about her in the series, but i have trouble reconciling pure, shining paragon lily with someone who would marry someone that spent years tormenting her friend, 4 on 1.

ooh boy this will be a LOT. i can't even promise it will be coherent but i'll make an attempt to be. (going under a cut to save us all the grief).

first off, i think it's fair to state that one of the biggest drawbacks of lily's character is how she was written. she is a plot device. she exists to boost other characters’ narratives: she's simultaneously the Rich Boy's trophy wife, the self-sacrificing mother of the Boy Who Lived, the best friend slash lost love of the Fallen Hero, and, at the same time, also no one at all. lily is a character with little to no background and character development that she can barely stand on her own two feet without any of the associated (usually male) characters to prop her up. it absolutely sucks but that's how it is. that's how jk wrote her.

given that and working with the scraps that we do have, my opinion of lily is...complex. i try to give her justice by trying to understand her context, the workings of her mind, and the possible pressures she was subjected to, but it can be challenging especially since lack of canon pushes you into a space where you have to put them in Either/Or situations. my opinion of her has also changed as i got older. when i was younger (i read the books waaaay back, as they were getting released in fact) i only saw her as an extra character (i was most interested in snape, if that's not obvious enough, but neither did i think snape was 'obsessed' with her as a lot of hp fans now think). i saw her and snape as good friends who had had a falling out, and that he'd probably had a crush on her at some point, and it got naturally overtaken by guilt etc when she died. then when i reread some chapters containing her, i was quick to put her in the Bad Friend camp. i don't think that now. i think that she, like snape, was a complex human being who made a lot of questionable decisions but shouldn't be entirely vilified for them.

my main thoughts of her that are kind of built on material from canon as well as what jkr has said herself:

- she was not posh. she grew up in cokeworth, in the same town as severus. i don't think she was middle class as a lot of fics portray her. i think the evanses were slightly better off than the snapes but they were all working-class, and living was a day-to-day struggle. the kids spoke in the local accent, their clothes were all worn and patched over, there were no green spaces or public infrastructure for kids to safely play in, and they were all mostly running wild about the town since all their parents had to work. food was something to be thankful for because there was never enough, and sometimes they had to share with their neighbors. that's the kind of setting i think lily and severus grew up in, although severus suffered abuse on top of it all. it's possible that lily did too because of the setting (post-world war 2, poverty, adults dealing with repressed trauma from the war, etc) and it wouldn't even be that surprising if she had been;

- she and petunia got along fairly well up until the point lily found out she was a witch and, as a result, became friends with severus. it's stated in canon that petunia had also wanted to attend hogwarts with them, going as far as writing to dumbledore to allow her admittance. her jealousy upon his rejection had festered and grown into outright hate that she projected onto harry as an adult, but i don't doubt that she continued to love lily even after her death and despite how she treated harry. i think as kids they had stuck together and were very close, but magic had torn them apart. suddenly lily had a world of her own that petunia wasn't welcome in, and that would have hurt. pottermore stated lily attended vernon and petunia's wedding or engagement party but james made a right mess of it. i think lily TRIED to maintain their relationship but external factors always got in the way. i don't doubt she had also loved her sister very much;

- i don't think she had any other friends. she may have had a lot of acquaintances but i think her only real friend, the one who saw her for who she really was, was severus, and i think, at a certain point in their lives, she saw that as a weakness and resented it;

- i think, from the interactions we saw in canon of lily with other people, that lily had a penchant to please people, especially the ones who ranked higher than her in terms of power dynamics - petunia (who was the older sister), professors (sluggy comes to mind, the head of slytherin with a lot of connections), even the marauders whose actions she defended. it's not necessarily a bad thing, but i've always seen it as her being borderline manipulative. i noted that she wasn't the same with severus (based on their conversations, especially the ones in 5th year, before SWM) because he's lower than her in a lot of aspects, being a slytherin and quite likely of a lower social standing. she could boss him around and tell him to piss off and he probably wouldn't have minded. she actually strikes me as someone who could have been in slytherin; a perfect arrangement, save for the fact that she was a muggleborn. i think lily knew her place and the cards she was dealt with more than anyone, but she was also determined not to stay there;

- this brings me to the point as to why she ever went out with james potter in the first place. i think her friendship breakup with severus was inevitable because they were in the middle of a burgeoning war and both of them were being pulled to opposite and opposing ends. as an added complexity, i think she also wanted to be better than being muggleborn lily evans of cokeworth, best friend of the evil greasy slytherin git, and her way out was to associate with housemates who were in the upper echelons of power. like, we don't even know what her life was like in gryffindor tower. ron was poor, but he was also a pureblood, so that may have saved him from ridicule. but what if you were a poor muggleborn, with a northern accent to boot? in the same way severus trained himself to be more posh, lily could have done the same and could have furiously tried to blend in. maintaining a friendship with severus would have ended in heartbreak as there were too many risks and it likely outweighed the gains. this was the wizarding world too which is much much smaller than the muggle world and relied on connections more than anything. openly siding with the marauders would have saved her skin and secured her a future (which, as we all know, was forfeit anyway but whatever);

- jumping to the jily relationship, i honestly think it was also not one that was meant to last. iirc jkr projected a lot onto lily, so i'm surmising jily reflected a lot of her own failed relationships. i think james and lily had a less-than-ideal relationship, one that involved abuse (verbal, emotional, mental, physical, take your pick, but at least one form of it), and i think she may have been unhappy in the last year of her life, living in hiding with none of her own friends (if they even existed) and seeing no one else but james' pals. her only light in that darkness was likely harry as she couldn't even see her own family. i think, during those times, she thought a lot about the home she left behind and, as a consequence, her lost friendship with severus. she probably missed him, and i'm sure she must have been very lonely.

in sum, i don't think she was the Virgin Mary figure a lot of hp fans paint her to be. imho she had her own questionable but utterly human moments, and i just tried to fill in the blanks as to why she would have acted the way she did. i don't think it was easy to be lily evans at all, and majority of the 21 years of her life was likely a struggle.

#lily evans #and the cards she was dealt #i wish we knew more about her tbh #ask #hp #also mentions #snape #of course

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jostepherjoestar · 3 years

Note

Maybe Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Leone friendship HCs with a fem friend thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, she is just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid she is. So basically a smol sweet dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like she just runs up to them saying she want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but she looks so happy xjsbkss 💖

Pure of heart, dumb of ass fem!friend with Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Abbacchio HC’s

sfw // fem reader

lemme just say, reader is baby and that’s valid 🥰this is so adorably pure ugh ya done killed me anon 🥺💖✨(can very much relate tho, glad my friends put up with my dumb antics)

Jotaro:

“Why am I friends with you again? Yare yare...” A phrase you’ll hear every time you’re hanging out with this tall bastard. He’ll tease you for being a bit of a dumbass but is incredibly drawn to how kind, sweet and absolutely thoughtful you are.

You remind him of Josuke and Okuyasu which only makes him like you even more. And the added cuteness-factor made him admit to himself he does indeed love cute things, no matter how adamantly he denies it to you.

His favourite thing to do is bring you along to the beach for field research, knowing just how wide eyed and giddy you get when you’re allowed to collect shells and rocks or even poke a jellyfish. You seem very good at spotting irregularities in your surroundings, making quite the good assistant to Dr. Kujo.

You’re even allowed to help with lab research, studying petri dishes filled with algae as you excitedly point out a very important detail he hadn’t noticed yet, too tired from working such long hours. Sometimes you’re quite the genius without even trying.

More than anything he loves the amount of lightness you bring to his life, his studies and general headspace take a large toll on him. Any relief is a welcome one.

He’ll often find himself smiling at the thought of hanging out again, staring at the collection of trinkets he keeps in a cute little Hello Kitty box you once gave him, which rests on his nightstand as a reminder that it can’t hurt to adapt your lifestyle of mindless giddy; even just the tiniest bit.

Risotto:

Being close friends with Risotto seems a bit impossible without being in his squad, he’s very insistent at keeping outsiders of Passione more than an arm-length away. Good thing that the stoic man is your capo, phew!

He’s apprehensive at first, not really sure why the soft round pebble you brought him reminded you of the man as he studied the mineral, admiring its softness. “It’s like you! Soft and worn down, but very sturdy and unbreakable.” smiling sweetly at him, excitedly awaiting a response.

What was this new feeling of being appreciated and cared for? Risotto’s never really experienced a friendship so pure. He’ll quietly thank you for the pebble and keeps it on his desk, staring in awe as he’s reminded of your kind words every time he spots it.

He knows the others like to tease you for not always being aware of general human knowledge, shooting them an intense glare as a warning to keep any rude comments or jokes to themselves.

Your friendship consists of him mostly listening to you, quietly taking in all the stories you divulge- so full of excitement, telling him facts you picked up somewhere; the source of these often containing varying levels of credibility. He won’t correct you though. (unless it’s something that might actually endanger you)

He values your friendship so.much. He’s not used to being treated so kindly, receiving random gifts, being praised for a job well done, having someone who doesn’t judge him in the slightest. He’ll do whatever he needs to keep you safe, from others and yourself, along with trying to return your kindness and care. (he tries his best and it’s so cute)

(you guys hold hands for safety when you’re out in the city... just saying, it’s adorable)

Prosciutto:

Prosciutto has a chronic case of “caring older brother disease”. Will need to hold himself back from tying your shoelaces for you, the man knows you can do it it yourself but it’s just taking sooo long.

Just like Risotto, you’d have to be a team member to get close to him in any way. Good thing he recruited you ;)

It’s a bit hard to make him open up about anything personal. You feel like he knows everything about you, while you barely know a thing. When he sees your pouty lip and begging gaze that is way too cute to deny, he’ll cave. Perhaps finally realising it’s alright to lean on others.

He’ll still struggle with continuing the openness, but find relief in your loyalty and understanding. The way you intently listen to his troubles, there to hold his hand if he ever needs it, it makes his heart hurt to know how sweet and gentle you are.

Will keep you and Pesci separate during missions, he’s already getting a migraine from imaging everything that could go wrong without his guidance.

For someone who’s a little more on the dense side, you make up for it in emotional intelligence. Whenever you see how stressed he tends to get, eye twitching without even realising while his shoulders hunch together in discomfort, you come over to hug him. It’s something he had to get used to, the small gesture always calming him down enough to keep going.

Does not appreciate you slipping cute trinkets in his suit pocket. Especially not after finding a snail that one time. You’ve been forbidden from leaving pocket gifts since the incident.

Bruno:

It concerns Bruno just how clueless you can be from time to time. That one time they almost left you behind on a busy station with no cellphone because you found a coin on the ground made him realise you need some extra supervision.

He’s not the type to hold you back from doing things that are guaranteed to result in disaster (unless it’s literally deadly), he wants you to experience the consequences of your own actions.

You do make him hold back his laughter when you try out a stupid idea you know has failed in the past, but change your methods slightly to hope for better results. And you know what? Now he’s curious too.

The man has a weird sense of humour that sometimes even surprises you. He’ll copy your habit of picking up strange trinkets or rocks and asks you to compare findings with him. Like trading marbles, he’ll barter with a smirk.

“Mhh, if you give me that cute shell and that pointy rock... I’ll give you this keychain.” His alluring offer making you question if you’re getting swindled or not. “Hey! That shell is at least worth two stickers!” He’ll heartily laugh at your reply, a mischievous smile while thinking over the trade. “Ok, two stickers and a pebble then.”

With a firm handshake the deal goes through. The rest of the gang never knows how to respond, staring in amazement as their grown-ass capo barters with their grown-ass teammate. He loves being silly with you and forgetting all the pressures of life for just a moment.

Bruno takes his time opening up to you, but finds your presence so comforting it becomes very easy to trust you. As a vital part of his team he finds it important to be able to lean on each other for support and is glad you offer him just as much trust and loyalty.

Abbacchio:

Will never admit he can’t live without you anymore. You’ve become the shining beacon of assumed happiness the man never thought existed. He knows you won’t always be go-lucky and have your own troubles and struggles but admires how you handle them.

Don’t get me wrong, he’ll still gladly tease you for your occasional (well, more like frequent) stupidity. He’ll let you know with a big huff you should smarten up; “Read a book that doesn’t have pictures in it for once.”

He’ll be the first to correct any wrong info you’ve been given, unless he thinks it’s funny. Like when Mista made you believe you needed to order dessert at Libeccio or they’ll kick you out for breaking their beloved rule. It’s only when he saw the panic in your eyes when you finished your main course one day -too full for any sweets to come- that he assured you it was a dumb joke. (he’ll put all the blame on Mista)

Abbacchio seems to tether to people who have a positive influence on him without even realising, it won’t be obvious to him, but just like with his loyalty and admiration for Bruno, he’ll make sure you know it once he finds out.

Not that it’s a bad thing, his need to cling to anything that might help him stay afloat just needs to stay healthy. You didn’t even realise your effect on him, you were too busy trying to figure out a way to turn that scowl into that smirk.

After gifting him a handmade friendship bracelet that had the shortened versions of your names spelled on it, he hugged you. So tightly it was suffocating, you were shocked since he’s never been the touchy type. “Leone! I can’t breathe...” He’ll let go after the complaint but that look on his face will never leave your memory. The face of being loved unconditionally by choice, no matter how unworthy he might think himself of it.

#cozy request #physical affection from friends? it's more likely than u think #jjba x reader #jotaro x reader #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #bruno x reader #abbacchio x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba imagines #jotaro kujo #risotto nero #prosciutto #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio

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marvelyhp · 3 years

Text

Still you

Chapter one: Lion's den

Sypnosis: Y/n decides to help the avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

word count: 3,452

warning: slight mention of sex, cursing.

note: I have this idea for a mini-series but I'm not sure if it will be liked so I guess I'll see where it goes. constructive criticism welcomed :)

Side note: if anyone wants to be tagged, you can leave a comment or message me :)

_______________

My knife pierced the air. A hand grabbed my wrist before I could strike the skin with the blade. The attacker threw me aside, spiraling me around. With my hand still in his grip, my left hand shot out to hit him on the temple. A grunt was heard from what I knew to be a man.

A hand collided with my ribs as they released my right hand. The air in my lungs was momentarily thin when there was pressure behind my knees, causing them to buckle. I refused to go down alone. My hand shot out to grab his neck in the dark, a small smile of triumph emerged on my face as I grabbed it. A mess of grunting and shortness of breath mixed with the sound of our bodies landing heavily on the ground. Rolling over while holding him tightly, I managed to get on top of his heavy build. My legs were spread beside his hips, sighing against the floor as my left hand pressed against his chest to prop myself up. I quickly pressed the kitchen knife in my right hand against his throat. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on my attacker's face despite the lack of light in the living room.

I was panting when I could place the color on his eyes. Steely blue orbs stared back at me, an emotion I couldn't decipher was shining deep. Sweat ran down his eyebrows and perspiration glistened on his forehead. There I was, staring at the man I'd thought of for two years. I held his gaze, unable to look away and so did he. However, I was the first to break eye contact as my eyes roamed over his face, finally pausing on the lush curve of his lips. They were slightly open, breathing heavily. I hoped to hide how my breath caught, looking away when the images of his mouth doing more than breathing interrupted my mind. I tried to think about everything that had happened to recapture the initial hatred and disdain I felt for the man in front of me two years ago.

I noticed the way his hand was bent in front of our bodies, a clear sign of defeat as he breathed rapidly from the struggle, just like me. I looked into his eyes once more as I thought about the precarious position we were both in. However, I did not move. The trust between him and I had been broken a long time ago, something my body would have to understand. I couldn’t trust him and I would never do so again. Just when I thought we were alone, another voice came from the apartment's voice.

"That's why I told you to go first, Manchurian Candidate. She always had a soft spot for you. See, Romanoff?" Tony Stark's irritating voice invaded my living room. The sound of his voice interrupting the fantasies I was engaging in my head. Annoyance coated my mood knowing who was in the house and the fact that someone else was on the line, listening and probably seeing everything. I so didn't miss this. I flatly ignored any kind of indication that he was standing near me while still staring at Bucky's face. Taking him in for the first time in two years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confusion and irritation filling my tone. It was mostly irritation since they broke into my apartment, in the middle of the night during the best sleep I've had in a while. Yes, I was definitely annoyed. I looked at James, who was still pinned under the weight of my body. A weight I was sure he could flip at any time if he wanted. I resisted the urge to snarl.

"We came because we need your help." Of course, they did. Why else would they come? I fought the unpleasant feelings that threatened to resurface and just stared at him. His breathing had slowed down from the strain earlier. So did mine. I noticed that our chests were moving at the same rhythm and part of me asked if it had anything to do with us, with how well our bodies knew each other. If they remembered what I thought had happened. I tried to focus on his responses rather than the way his warmth felt against my core, the skin of my thighs, and my hand pressing against his chest. Instead of the way the curve of his body felt against mine. Instead of his lips and the way they felt on my skin, tracing every inch of me. My right hand pressed against his stomach, the feel of his hard muscles and the heat seeping through my skin made me hyper-aware of our position. I mentally slapped myself before letting a humorless laugh escape my lips. I noticed the way his eyes focused on me.

"Why didn't you knock?" I cussed myself. After all this time they come looking for me, just for help and the first thing I tell them is to knock on the door. It was a ridiculous remark because even if they had, I wouldn't have opened the door. I had to give them credit. They remembered quite well how angry I left the compound. On top of that, they remembered enough about me to know that I didn't trust anyone enough to open any damn doors. Well, if I was giving away credits, some could be given to Stark. It was a smart move to put Bucky in the lead because as much as he hurt me, I could never hurt him. Oh, and how I tried that day. I had two years to think about what occurred, to think about everything. I tried to hate him and I failed miserably. I tried to forget it and it never worked. I could never forget that he had been the only one who had not treated me as a threat or maybe he only thought so. He knew what I had been getting off from. Either way, it didn’t matter. Stark would’ve been stabbed for sure.

"Would you have opened it?" The question came in a mocking tone. I became alert when his right hand took mine, pulling the dagger away from his neck. I forbid myself to feel any kind of sympathy when I saw a thin red cut where my dagger had been, a single drop draping at the end. I was ripped out of my thoughts when my breathing hitched. His left hand brushed the bottom of my thigh, hidden out of Tony's sight. My breath caught in my throat as his hand settled on my smooth skin, his fingertips digging into my thigh.

"No, probably not." My voice came calmer than I thought. Even then, I realized that he was out of breath and I hated myself for it. how conscious I was of him. The skin under his palm was burning, a blazing trail following his every move, every touch. The hotness was beginning to spread the more he gripped my skin. My breathing became more and more erratic once his hand started rubbing the outer part.

"Well, that's enough lovebirds." Tony's voice shifted me back to where I was and the situation surrounding us. So, I did what I should have done a while ago. I sprung up from his body, welcoming the cold rush of air I felt cooling the hotness of my skin. The hand he used to rub me was now rubbing the cut on his neck gently. I turned to flick the light, the brightness stinging my eyes for a second before I turned my head towards Bucky.

In a swift movement, he was standing beside me. The ocean of his eyes looking straight into me. Memories of us invaded my brain before a deep disdain grew in my chest. I ignored every emotion that I didn’t understand —neither cared to— swimming in his eyes. I cursed myself as my body still felt flushed with the way he looked at me. A warm sensation pooling in my lower abdomen. I looked away, a scowl creeping onto my face as I laid eyes on Stark´s form. Everything I felt and desired to forget was whisked away by it, my hate for Stark coming in full bloom.

I couldn't help but distort my face in a frown. He had undervalued and underestimated me so many times before I had no more sympathy for the mortal. I never pondered why I had faith he would ever consider me part of his team, of his family. I clearly tried giving too much compassion to the human race.

“You want my help? You?” my finger pointed towards the red and gold suit standing in the corner of my dining space. A snort flew past my lips as a humorless laugh came deep from within my chest. This definitely had to be an emergency. That, or the man was a masochist and he finally discovered what makes him tick after two years.

“Believe me, failed human, I’m not happy about this. However, I do accept you’re the only one, besides Wanda, able to kill enemies with a wider range.” He looked physically hurt to be saying the last part. He had never been good at admitting things about people he never liked.

I kept my face impassive but the truth of how I felt when I heard those words was different. I was suddenly taken back to the times where this was a daily occurrence. Where I was shunned, verbally abused, and not wanted every day. Not only by Tony but by Hydra and just about everyone. I thought about my so-called family back home. About all those times I- I couldn’t even continue. My resentment and hatred for Stark erupted in me, bringing back years of unsaid words and silent tears in the corners. I tried to calm my rapid breathing and the itching in my hands to stab him.

“You can go to hell, Stark.” I stalked off towards the kitchen, knowing if I stood there any longer this would result in a bloodbath. something to create space between us was needed. I let the knife drop with a clank on the sink. I allowed my body to rest against the counter, my hands gripping the edges. Exhaustion made its way quickly through my body though not as heavily as before these days. The alertness and adrenaline in my body numbing the feeling.

“Unfortunately, that’s where we’ll all go if you don’t help us. We need your powers to save the world, falsie. Your time to shine,” his smile was forced and the trust he wanted me to feel was nonexistent. “Oh, and has anyone hinted you look like shit over here? What have you been doing these past two years? Not a glow-up I presume.” The last words were muttered but he knew I would hear because of my god-like abilities.

I was hurt at every word he said but I was mad at myself for letting him affect me. Both feelings moved lively inside me, both wanting attention right this moment. I couldn’t let him see how hurt I was by his words because I knew that was what he wanted. I wondered how his life with Pepper Potts was. But a part of me thought that was irrelevant since he hadn’t liked me since the moment he saw me. His distaste and distrust had been clear since the beginning. He thought he was better, more morally right. Even then, I had never put cared ones in danger, but he had.

As mad as I was, he was right. The bags under my eyes were dark and prominent and they were sign enough of my lack of sleep. Exhaustion had taken a toll on my body. Getting two or four hours of sleep was becoming more and more difficult to withstand. I was aware of how much weight I had lost since I saw them but paranoia wasn't exactly your friend if you were hiding from killers and triggers for your mind. Having to run every few months and hide was becoming tiring. I was mentally and physically exhausted. The desire to tamper with my memories and make me forget became increasingly stronger as days went by but I knew I couldn't. I needed to remember every deed I had done and I needed to remember how I felt while I did it. I felt obliged to suffer for them.

“Fuck you.”

“So touchy,” he sat in the gray chair of the black dining table beside the door. His fingertips stroke the tip of the snake plant in the center of it. I just stared. Hostility irradiated from my person and expanded across the room. The tension in the air strong as a chokehold. “I have deprecating nicknames for everyone. Don’t feel special.” I wanted to punch that fucking denigrating smile right out of his face. He knew what bothered me the most. He knew my insecurities and I felt an instant disdain flare-up in my body towards James. I wanted to punch them but I opted to be more civilized and not act like exactly what he thought I was.

“I didn’t escape Hydra after 60 years so some asshole with an overinflated sense of self-worth could treat me like the scum of the earth. Sorry, metal can but you’ll have to shove your world-saving mission up your ass.” I snapped. So much for acting civilized.

“The kitty’s got claws. Was wondering when they would say hello.” He puckered his lips, a mocking gesture soon followed by the rise of his eyebrows. He looked towards Bucky, wiggling his brows. A whistle interrupted the sudden silence filling the room. Before I could even register, the desire to climb across the counter and smash his face against it flourished in me like poisoned vines. Before I could complete the action, Bucky’s voice reached my ears.

"Y/n, please. Thousands we’ll die if we don’t fight this war. If you don’t help us, we will die.” Bucky stepped closer to the counter, hands resting against the edge.

“What makes you think I will prevent that?”

“Even if we don’t win it, it will lessen the casualties,” his eyes bored straight into mine. “We need you.”

I need you.

The sincerity in his voice and the pleas of help smudged all over his voice softened the raging anger inside my heart. Unsaid words hanged around us like leaves falling from trees, already softening the walls I had built around my heart. Doubts surfaced.

My wish to leave Tony fend for himself battled with the faces of those who defended me at some point in my stay in the Avenger’s tower and while I was on the run with both Steve and Bucky. Steve and Natasha had been weary of me, as I expected they would but they warmed up to me. We were not exactly brothers and sisters but they tried to help. I had thought of them to be friends or something close before I found everything out. Wanda had tried to understand me and be there. She had not been involved in anything. And Vision, he had always been an ally and never doubted my loyalty. He never knew of the plan either. Banner didn’t talk much and T’challa was a friend. Tony was the person that made my life a living hell and turned everyone against me.

I tried to understand him, at first. I thought he was trying to protect his team, his people. I was a potential threat and I understood that but I never implied or acted as though I wanted to hurt them like he made everyone think. Every time he had a chance, he would mention disloyalty or my so-called shady behavior. Yes, I had problems trusting my own mind after Hydra, but I never wanted to hurt the people my brother trusted and the people who gave me a home. I knew what triggered the memories and the episodes of countless tortures, experiments, and missions made for and by Hydra. I was also aware of who I killed and T’challa helped with the rest. He thought my actions to protect myself -and them indirectly- made me a menace.

After some time, I knew I would never win his favor and change what he thought about me. How he saw me. So, I stopped trying too.

A war raged inside me. I felt conflicted. For one, I didn’t know how everyone would react to seeing me after two years, especially when I didn’t leave on the best terms. Two years in which they knew nothing about me and never tried to. It had stung that none of them tried to find me or followed me after I left devastated that night. But Bucky, Bucky hurt the most. I thought he felt towards me or at least cared for me but I was mistaken. I had left hope brew inside me when I shouldn’t have. We all know hope is a dangerous and deadly thing to feel.

I still got over it or concealed it with everything else to forget. I was used to being treated as means to an end since I was born and survived it all. I was not about to let my world crash and burn for a man and some people I lived with. Even then, I didn’t want to return. But if what Bucky said was true, millions of people would die. The Avengers could die and the world needed them. This was bigger than me and everything that had happened with us.

“I have one condition.” My jaw was set and my tone firm, regret already pulsating through me.

“Absolutely not!” Tony’s reply came fast and clashed with a serious “You name it.” coming from Bucky. I looked between them, trying to decide who I wanted to pay attention to first but decide Tony wasn't worth a damn minute of my time. My eyes settled on Bucky’s blue ones, my voice dead serious.

“I don’t ask for trust because I know I will not give any of you the same but I ask to not be doubted,” My voice took a cutting edge but we all ignored it. “I want to be informed of every detail regarding the situation and the mission, just like everyone else. The moment you all know something I don’t. I’m out.” They both knew how serious I was about this. I promised myself I would never subject myself again to what happened two years prior. The feelings of emptiness and low self-esteem I felt were not something I wanted to deal with. Not from people, I swore would never affect me once again. I could very well torture myself but I was not going to let a team led by a buffoon that thought he had me pegged since he saw me make me think I was nothing.

Bucky knew exactly why I asked for this. He knew how I felt and what led to this as he was just as much in the spotlight as I was. I didn’t trust him, not after everything but I knew he wanted to help and right his wrongs so he would keep his word.

“Now wait a minu-“

“You’re right. If you are going to risk your life for us, you have the right to know.” He lowered his gaze. His words felt heavy with something a feeling I didn’t recognize nor wanted to.

“You can’t be serious about this, Cyborg.”

“She’s right, Stark. I’m sure the team will agree.” He looked at Tony sideways, irritation stretched across his face. Bucky’s voice was definitive. The sharp edge in his voice shut Tony up, who rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. I ignored him as I muttered a quick ‘one minute’ and walked to my room. After changing into a black t-shirt and some jeans, I slid on my leather jacket and put on some boots. A bag of clothes and essentials was made quickly before I stepped out of the room.

When I emerged, Tony was sulking like a five-year-old boy beside Bucky while the man shook his head repeatedly towards him. A sigh escaped Bucky as he pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose. I repressed my urge to laugh at the scene in front of me. Once they saw me, both their face recovered and their postures composed.

“Let’s go.” I said nonchalantly, grabbing my keys.

And just like that, I was walking into the lion’s den once more.

#bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fic #james barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky x oc #romance fanfiction #angst fanfic

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cheelduh · 3 years

Text

How to get your crush to walk you to the nurse’s office (Highschool AU)

This is part 3, but it can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of a monster schlong, and unedited.

Parts: 1 2

Synopsis: Childe offers Lisa a shady deal to yet again sit next to you. However, all his efforts are in vain after he makes a complete fool out of himself by tripping over literally nothing because of a stupid cold. Maybe getting a cold isn’t so bad if he gets to be escorted to the nurse’s office by none other than yourself.

Note: Pure unedited crack luvs. Can’t wait for Childe rerun tmr I hope I get the ginger and the emo nun! 🥲💖

The eyes on you are suffocating, to say the least, enough for you to consider peeling a layer of your own skin off just to breathe. Every now and then, you get a teasing glance from a classmate, and you're sure you'll be an entire puddle of guts on your desk before home room even gets a chance to begin.

There's no doubt it's Signora that spread the news of your date yesterday as a means to some sick revenge. Knowing this was going to happen, you packed some salt in your backpack to cancel out all her evil. Now all you need is a chance to knuckle ball it in her face.

Fingers crossed, you pray to the archons that Childe didn't slip anything about your...brick slip yesterday. It's a good thing you weren't in a school uniform yesterday because that would've been the end of your high school life right there.

Thinking back to it, you collapse into your open hands. How could you have beaten a bunch up losers up...risking your flawless reputation for a sadistic ginger with an affinity for chaos? And worst of all, why did you care about them shit talking him in the first place?

"You okay dear? Something you want to tell me?" Lisa feigns concern, already knowing why.

With a sigh, you blink an eye open through the gap in your fingers. "Doing just fine."

"Oh it couldn't have been that bad." Her eyes shine in mischief. "I bet Childe was a real gentleman."

"He sure was." Kaeya pipes up from the back, leaning in to show you the image on his phone. It's a picture Childe took of you absolutely oblitering an ice cream cone.

You groan and slump deeper into your chair from embarrassment as Kaeya and Lisa engage in chatter, mostly revolving around your date.

Ignoring them completely, you start to ponder about Childe. Where is he? You were sure he'd be here bright and early to reminisce on your eventful date yesterday, which mostly consisted of a competition of who could win the most stall games at a local festival.

Maybe he'd even tease you about the Monoceros Caeli keychain attached to your phone. The very one he'd won for you, and the reason that started the competition in the first place.

Your cheeks warm when you fidget with said keychain, and you can't tell if the fast pace of your heart is because you're nervous to see him or because of the biology quiz you have second period.

So wrapped up in all these foreign emotions, you fail to notice the shadow that looms over you, a glittery finger guard tapping at your desk.

The student council President, Ningguang, plops down a stack of budget files on your desk during homeroom. She's gives you a light smile, and you know what's coming when you meet her alluring gaze.

"Be a dear Y/N," Ningguang smiles, tight lipped, all pretty with her hair pinned back to crown her face. "Even with all hands on deck, i'm afraid the student council's efforts will not come to ripeness concerning all of this paperwork."

This isn't the first time you've done her a favour by becoming the president's personal accountant, and it definitely isn't going to be the last.

Ningguang is powerful, with wit like no other, and you want to be able to call in a chit when the time comes.

"Of course," You reply with a smile that rivals her own. "I'll have them done by the end of the day."

"Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Y/N." She departs elegantly, probably opting to sit next to Beidou and bicker.

You're halfway on the third sheet for total income, a minute before class starts, when you're interrupted. Childe stumbles through the door quite noisily, a shitstain of a grin plastered on his face that is directed at you.

You sigh and shake your head as he approaches you. Thankfully the seat next to you is occupied by—

Shit! Where's Lisa?

Across the classroom, Lisa gives you a thumbs up with a bar of vending machine chocolate in her hand. You should've known she'd betray you yet again.

Childe slides in smoothly after bumping fists with Kaeya, and he falls short of containing his giddy nature.

"Hi Y/N." There's something weird about him today, because you're sure you haven't seen his cheeks so flushed ever. His eyes land on your phone, which is splayed on the desk, and the keychain widens his grin.

You snatch your phone and hide it in the middles of your thighs, but the damage is already done. The urge to shrink against the wall has never been as strong as it is in this moment.

"Hi." It's a miracle you haven't combusted on the spot. Is it usually this awkward? Everything went so fine yesterday, so why can't you ease into it today?

He takes that as a go ahead and instantly reaches for your hand on the table, but you retract at the speed of light.

"Don't even think about it." You're ready to connect the tip of your trainers to his bleached asshole, nose crinkled at his behaviour.

Kaeya whistles lowly, leaning forward for the HD show that is your life.

Childe's smile is sheepish as he's scratching the back of his head. "So we're not on that stage yet huh? I seriously thought you had a change of heart after you beat up those high schoolers for m—"

You muffle his statement with a hand on his mouth, and send a pointed glare to Kaeya. "You didn't hear shit."

The Captain of the skating team nods innocently, and salutes. "Yes boss."

Returning your gaze to Childe, who looks like he's having the time of his life with your small hand on his mouth, you narrow your eyes. "Stop trying to spread rumours."

He can only hum in reply, but you feel a weird pressure on your palm and—

The smug asshole kisses your palm.

You pull back your hand and wipe at your pants, full of disbelief. "Did you just??? Did you just? Kiss my hand???" Mouth twisted, you have no idea what to think.

Childe's throws his head back, and his laugh rings in your ears. You hate yourself for wavering slightly at the sound before smacking his arm. His laughs turn into coughs, probably because he may have swallowed his saliva down the wrong pipe. Charming.

Where the fuck is Zhongli? It's already been five minutes too long into homeroom.

Rolling your eyes, you opt to continue and scribble down budget numbers and add sums up or whatever you were doing earlier after Childe pipes down, choosing to admire you quietly by leaning his weight on one arm. It's enough to make you squirm, face flushed.

"Can you not?" Clicking your tongue in disapproval, you don't look up as you speak.

"If you give me a kiss, then maybe." Childe's cheeky, ridiculously so, and he points a finger at his cheek.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists." You deadpan, fingers itching to choke something or rather...someone.

Childe pouts, and then his eyes close for a second, almost as if he's exhausted when he gives you a sort of smile. With how he's leaning in so close, you can easily spot the swelling in his eyes and the paleness of his face.

For the first time today, there's no bite in your tone when you ask with a slightly raised brow. "Are you okay Childe?"

"Yeah!" He's quick to answer ecstatically, snapping out of his tired haze by straightening himself up. "Better more than ever now that I've seen you, girlie."

You blush madly, the compliment enough for you to drop your pen on the ground. It rolls over beyond your reach.

"I'll get that." Childe jumps out of his chair and you're unable to stop him as he goes to go fetch your pen like the chivalrous idiot he is. There's a slight pause in his movement, his body taking longer to process the messages his brain is sending.

He recovers from the muddle in his cognition by shaking his head, and casually goes to pick up the pen, then ends the move by falling over backwards in unconsciousness.

"Childe!" You lunge for him, managing to catch him a second prior to his ass hitting the floor with the help of Kaeya, who somehow looks like he's expected this outcome from the very start.

The entire classroom clamps up and turns to look for the root of all the commotion.

"Don't just sit there and watch!" You hiss angrily, waving them off. "Someone get Zhongli!"

Aether doesn't need to be told twice as Venti and him race down the hall together. Venti probably just to use this opportunity of sudden chaos to skip homeroom.

"Looks like a fever." The Captain accesses the situation as a small crowd forms around you two. "There's no way he didn't feel it in the morning."

"The absolute idiot." You groan at his words. "Of course he'd try to have a pissing match with a cold."

"I'm still here you know." Childe slurs, leaning into you for warmth, chest rising and falling softly. "Just a...a little sleepy. Am I dreaming angel?"

You roll your eyes, but don't make any moves to lean away from his touch. "Anyone got a water bottle?" Curling your hands around his shoulder, you shift your gaze towards the crowd.

Somebody passes you an emerald green water bottle with dandelion charms that clink against the hard plastic handle from a nearby desk. It screams stupid, but you don't have time to judge the owner.

Opening it up hastily, you're about to let Childe take a sip until it's snatched away from you at the speed of light.

"Hey what gives!" You call out to Kaeya, who inspects the bottle closely with his one eye. He then nods in affirmation as if his suspicions are confirmed.

"I wouldn't recommend it." Is all he says when he motions for you to take a whiff, which you do so reluctantly, eyes closed.

The scent hits you all it once. It's watered down vodka, except without the watering down. Tears form from the intensity.

"The goddamn bard." You choke out, and it earns you a drained chuckle from the ginger that has his head situated on your forearm.

He has half the mind to nuzzle in further, but the position is convenient enough for you to crush his skull if you wish to do so. So he refrains, albeit reluctantly.

Zhongli manages to make it in less than two minutes, sipping on a cup of steaming tea as he breaks apart the crowd to crouch down. "Is everything alright? I came as soon as I could after I made this tea. I assumed it was just another prank."

Everyone in the room shakes their head incredulously.

"Unfortunately it isn't a prank. Childe fainted briefly." You tell him politely despite the urgency, since you're whipped for all your teachers.

"I didn't faint!" Childe groans, exasperated. "Got a little dizzy s'all."

"Yeah," Kaeya cuts in to summarize the situation. "I'll be happy to take him to the nurses office with Y/N—"

Zhongli clears his throat. "You won't be going anywhere Mr.Alberich. I'm sure you have five overdue assignments in my class. Y/N here can walk him just fine." He then attempts to wink at Childe secretly like the wingman he is, but everyone in the classroom and their grandma notices.

The facepalm you do is not enough to render you brain dead.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh for the nth time today, and it's only eight thirty in the morning. "No worries, Lisa can help—"

"Sorry cutie. I'm manifesting for the biology quiz." Lisa deflects, lighting three candles on her desk unceremoniously with her eyes closed.

You don't understand why no one has confiscated her box of matches yet. This entire school is a law suit waiting to happen.

You succumb to the team effort everyone is trying so hard to display. "I guess I can go." The hall pass is already written, signed, and neatly folded into the chest pocket of your uniform. "How did you even..."

You don't even get a chance to finish before both you and Childe are whisked away to the outside of the classroom, the door shutting behind you with a slam. Your ears perk up at the sound of a lock clicking in place.

"Looks like you're stuck with me." The smug bastard still has the audacity to beam even when he's pale in the face. "Might have to hold my arm. If I fall and crack my skull—that wouldn't look too good on your record." He makes grabby hands, like a toddler.

The smile you give is unnerving, and with the speed of a snail, you manage to loop in your arm with Childe's. "Another word and let's move on to how your hospital record is going to have more than just a cracked skull."

"If you'd nurse me back to health, it'll all be worth it." The quip he sends without a beat lacks its usual goof, but it does manage to get some sort of reaction out of you.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

—

Childe's busy thumbing at his phone while you pace at the foot of the bed, arms crossed with a frown etched on your features. You hope you don't look too worried, don't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Can we just get this over with?" He wails uncharacteristically from his spot on the white sheeted bed after ruling out everything he wanted to do on his phone. His hair is tousled more than usual, as a by-product of his constant restlessness.

"Shut up." You answer monotonously, arms crossed as you lean against the wall. "Let her finish her tiktok."

Barbara—the daughter of the school nurse, has her phone on the window, lip syncing and dancing to some music on beat as she films a tiktok with the utmost of important.

It's concerning that her father isn't here to tend to your needs, but apparently he's in the middle of a meeting with principle Varka. Said meeting had been going on for the past few months, but this school is devoid of logic anyways so nobody really questions anything.

"I'm literally dying here."

"Archons you're such a baby," Shaking your head, you approach his bed with a newfound annoyance. "Barbara has to create a tiktok at least once every twenty four hours or her fan club goes feral and..."

"Tries to jump off the roof as the ultimate sacrifice to her majesty." Childe sighs, and for the first time you sense his irritation. "Got it."

Just in time, Barbara finishes her cute little dance and comes over to where Childe is laying.

Childe doesn't miss the way your scowl has dissipated, and you give Barbara your undivided attention, hearts in your eyes from all the adoration. He has half the mind to call you out on it, no doubt a little jealous over how the young highschool idol can get you to show more emotion than him.

"I'm so sorry! I started those tiktoks out of mild interest but now I have an obligation to my fans." The younger apologizes profusely, getting to work almost immediately.

"No worries." Childe starts, staying still as the blonde examines him. "I'm sure it's nothing too serious. Y/N here is being dramatic, she probably just wants to spend some alone time with me."

You inhale sharply, turn to Barbara, and ask. "If I jumped out of the window right now from this floor, would it be a quick and easy death?"

The younger girl's eyes widen, and Childe stifles his snort.

"Kidding." You raise your hands up to cease her worries, and then motion towards him. "Common cold?"

"Yes," Barbara moves on and writes down something on a slip. "We'll just keep him here until his parents can pick him up."

"My parents can't pick me up." He asserts in a casual tone. "Don't call them."

"We still have to call them. If they don't come, you're to stay in this bed all day." She hands you the note, which is a viable excuse for all the classes he'll miss today. "Give this to his homeroom teacher. You'd also better get to class, your hall pass is about to expire."

"Hold up." You remark, barely paying attention to the note that you've shoved down your pocket. "I'm not leaving him here alone." There's no room for argument, your decision is firmly stated.

Childe hypes you up in his weakened state, disoriented. "You tell em girlie."

"He won't be alone." Barbara flashes you a reassuring smile. "I'll be monitoring him until his parents get here."

"No, no, you don't understand." You argue, inquiring all the doubts you have. "He's gonna try to pull some shit and I'll have to be here to stop him."

"Ease up babe." Childe tries to calm you down, despite the giddiness in his chest at the realization that you want to take care of him.

His subconscious begs him to let you stay, to let himself be doted and cared for the way he's always wanted you to, but he knows he can't let you skip class. Not when you've worked so hard and come so far. "I'll be okay for a few. You can go back to class and then visit me during break."

You bite your lips, head jumbled with all the different possibilities of how shit can hit the fan. "I can't! What if Signora shows up? She'll poison you in this weakened state to get back at me for trying to exorcise her." The hesitation in your features gives away everything.

Childe's eye twitches at the thought of Signora out of all people getting the best out of him, and also the absolute audacity you have to be calling him weak. Clearly all his efforts towards the little shows of dominance (e.g. Shoving Pallad against a locker, spraying a hefty amount of cologne on, being an asshole in general, etc.) have not bore fruit.

"You tried to exorcise her?" Barbara gasps, momentarily reminding the two of you that she's still present.

"Her evil has no bounds." Your expression is hard to read, dead serious. "I do not regret my attempt at cancelling Satan's hell spawn."

Childe himself has been cancelled hundreds of times over the span of highschool because of all his problematic traits (e.g calling Venti a twink) and it is not a pleasant experience.

Though it does give him a sense of comfort, knowing that arrogant bitch Signora is finally getting what's coming to her, even if she is one of his friends.

Serves her right for trying to Pavlov her stupid Chihuahua into biting the closest human being just by the snap of her manicured finger. As if it's persistent yapping and tendency to run in front of cars isn't enough torture to deal with on a daily basis.

Childe's yanked out of his thoughts rather forcefully at the sound of the door opening abruptly, the handle crashing into the wall, shocking Barbara's attempts to reassure you.

He knows who it is because of his top tier gaydar, dreading what's to come.

Scaramouche is a morose son of a bitch with a mean streak that hasn't been broken since he was an itty bitty shit in the fourth grade.

"I can't believe you let yourself get sick!" The navy haired boy exclaims in disbelief, doubling over with tears, clapping his hands to add on some extra effects. "Natural selection finally decided to stop pussy footing around your primate-looking ass."

You press your lips together. "Isn't he supposed to be your best friend?"

Scaramouche sputters violently, using the wall as leverage to hold himself up. "You told her I'm your best friend? Oh fuck. Oh this is good. What else did you tell her huh? That you have a monster cock?"

"First of all, you make me reconsider my opinion on the death penalty, dickhead."

Barbara is mortified. Childe continues on anyways.

"—and I do have a monster cock. But why are you so interested in my monster cock huh?"

Scaramouche scrunches his face up in disgust, amusement nothing but a distant memory. "You don't have a monster cock you plebe."

Childe has an awfully scandalized expression on his face, but smoothly enough it transitions into an unsettling grin that you're all too familiar with. "You didn't deny not being interested in my monster cock though."

It's your turn to be mortified, shaking your head at the banter that goes on back and forth.

"How did you even know he was in here? We aren't even in the same class."

Scaramouche raises a brow as if you're some sort of toddler that's babbling out a mixture of Cheerios and spit, maybe a few digested strawberries here and there. He waves his phone in front of you, "posted it on his story."

"What the—give me that!" You snatch his phone right up, staring at the screen in bewilderment.

There's a video of you doing trick shots with your tech deck on the ledge of a nearby window with a pressed expression while waiting for Barbara to finish up, captioned with: "In the nurses office rn pray for me 🙏, there's this cute girl in front of me should I ask her out?"

You check the poll and ninety five percent say yes. Scaramouche voted no. You have mixed feelings.

Shaking your head, you give Childe, who's unable to sit still, a look of pure exasperation.

Scaramouche claws his phone back from you rather harshly, the bells on his hat jingling, making it hard for you to take him seriously when he sneers your way.

"You should be thankful you're the lover of my comrade." He shivers slightly at the word comrade. "or I would have obliterated you on the spot for that little stunt."

Childe doesn't even pretend to look fazed at the older's threat when he says "as if I'd allow a kumquat headass like you to touch my girl."

You and Barbara hastily jump in to stop the bloodbath that is seconds from happening. "No!"

Luckily, no limbs are teared apart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #kaeya alberich #childe #childe x reader #fanfic #genshin oneshot #genshin tartagalia #tartagila #aether #venti genshin impact #genshin impact venti #kaeya genshin impact

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beauregardlionett · 3 years

Text

hands and tears and bedsheet fears

AO3 Link

Yasha wasn’t sure why she was leading the way to Beau’s room, but it felt right. Beau was so clearly eager to keep going, to lie in bed with Yasha and find infinity. But there also remained a quiet hesitance to everything Beau said and did around her.

Especially tonight.

Yasha knew Beau didn’t want to push her too far too fast—which was sweet—but Yasha was in the mood to be a little dangerous. She was in the mood to press Beau into the mattress with her body weight alone, to taste the salt on Beau’s skin, to chase the pleasure of her tongue. Call her reckless, but Yasha sometimes did better that way.

Besides, they had the whole tower to themselves. Yasha figured they could afford to be a little stupid for one night.

She turned to glance over her shoulder at Beau, a giddy grin tugging the corners of her lips upward. Beau looked somehow soft and wild all at once, her visage sending a shock of thrill through Yasha’s veins. There was a flush high on Beau’s cheekbones, her bright blue eyes glinting with unshielded desire. But Beau was also drowning in Yasha’s tunic, her bare legs only visible from just above her kneecaps down. Her hair fell loose and damp, leaving dark patches of water against Yasha’s shirt.

Yasha squeezed Beau’s hand where their fingers wove together, chest full of indescribable emotion.

They pushed open the door to Beau’s room at long last, Yasha tossing aside the bundle of their mismatched clothing. Beau barely stepped through the door before Yasha had her pushed up against it.

Without hesitation, Yasha’s lips pressed against Beau’s, kissing her with the same fervor as before. Months of repressed feelings and desires that she had attempted to funnel through stunted conversation and longing glances poured out of Yasha. Her lips were the floodgates and Beau’s the receiving river.

Yasha eventually came up for air, forehead pressed to Beau’s as they gasped in each other’s space.

“Bed?” Yasha asked, breathless.

“Bed. Definitely,” Beau agreed, giddy and hoarse.

Yasha laughed, soft and clear, as she ducked in to seal her lips against Beau’s neck. A low noise of pleasure slipped past Beau’s lips as her fingers sunk into Yasha’s messy, damp hair. Fingernails scraped lightly at Yasha’s scalp and she doubled her efforts, hands moving to hold the underside of Beau’s thighs. She straightened up, bringing Beau with her. Beau yelped at the sudden shift before hooking her ankles together around Yasha’s waist and leaning her weight into Yasha’s mouth so she didn’t fall backward.

Yasha turned and carried Beau further into the room, humming her approval against Beau’s carotid she had captured between her teeth.

Her bare feet against the cool stone of the bedroom floor echoed dimly against Beau’s quiet sounds of approval. The fabric of Yasha’s tunic clung almost uncomfortably between their damp and sweaty chests, the only barrier to them being skin to skin. But Yasha found she didn’t mind so much since Beau was wearing her shirt.

Yasha’s knees eventually knocked against the edge of Beau’s bed. She took a moment to firm up her grip on Beau’s thighs before tipping them both onto the mattress. Beau’s breath huffed from her upon impact, dissolving into a moan when the jarring motion caused Yasha to bite at the spot on Beau’s neck she had been attending to. Her fingers tugged at Yasha’s hair with unsteady desire—an encouragement.

Yasha kept at her task of pressing the most obvious hickey into Beau’s neck for another handful of moments before pulling away. She deemed her work satisfactory and grinned down at Beau’s flushed countenance, inordinately pleased with herself. The color in Beau’s cheeks and the dazed but excited light in her eyes gave Yasha all the reassurance she needed. Teasing her fingers against the hem of the tunic, she pushed the garment up and off Beau’s chest.

Beau’s hands moved faster, circling Yasha’s wrists with gentle pressure, but enough to halt the movement.

“Wait,” Beau’s hoarse voice stopped Yasha.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Yasha’s instinct was to fret, to worry that she had made a mistake. The hesitation that had so quickly overcome Beau’s expression left a terrifying chill that settled like a rock in Yasha’s gut.

“Yeah, I just…” Beau rolled her head to the side as she looked away. Her hair—loose and damp—splayed out on the pillow like a halo, her skin still glowing with a light shine from the hot tub. For all that Yasha bore the blood of angelic ancestry, Beau was a celestial vision. (Perhaps her bias was glaringly obvious, but what did that matter when your lives were at risk in a frozen wasteland?)

Yasha slid careful fingers against the sharp line of Beau’s jaw and cupped her cheek, drawing Beau’s attention back to her. All the confidence and bravado that Beau usually wore was absent; left in its place sat everything tender and vulnerable that she kept secret and safe behind the innumerable walls of her daily facade. Yasha knew it was an honor to be privy to Beau’s honesty, one she refused to take for granted.

“What is it, Beau?” Yasha murmured. “Talk to me.”

“This date has been…incredible,” Beau whispered after a moment, tone awed as much as it was hesitant. “And I know this is what others might think is the natural conclusion to a date they have a good time on. But I don’t…want you to think this is an expectation. I meant what I said earlier about no expectations, no matter what we confessed earlier.”

Yasha blinked down at Beau, stunned. They truly must be the biggest fools in all of Exandria. She could see it all now, in hindsight. The glances, the lingering touches, the blatant concern for each other piled and slid between healing hands and violent acts of protection. They had been pining after one another for months. The tension reached a breaking point ages ago, but they somehow stalled the shattering until now. And here Beau was, keeping their fragile composure held together with her bare hands. The jagged edges digging into her palms from the desire to transform into something new, but held back just in case.

All for Yasha’s sake.

Beau seemed to take Yasha’s stunned silence as some kind of confirmation because she started babbling reassurances.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to do this if you want to, but I don’t want you doing it because you think I expect it. And if you don’t want to, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. We also don’t even have to sleep in the same bed—or even the same room. Hell, we can sleep on different sides of the tower if that would make you feel more secure. I mean—”

Yasha scooped her hands beneath Beau’s back and lifted her up, holding her close as she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Beau’s legs straddled Yasha’s, her knees either side of Yasha’s hips. The movement silenced Beau, her lips clamped shut, eyes upset and guarded all at once as her fingers clung to the damp skin of Yasha’s shoulders. She looked down at Yasha before her gaze flicked to the side, looking almost ashamed.

“Beau,” Yasha murmured, her hands settled on Beau’s hips. “I want this. To be specific, I want this with you. There is no more hesitation on my end—I am all in. But if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I meant it too when I said no expectations.”

Beau seemed to deflate under Yasha’s hands, breath gusting out of her chest with a mighty exhale.

“I know that, and I want this, but—” Beau looked a little reluctant here, but she pushed on, gesturing to the bed over Yasha’s shoulder. “I’ve done this part before—quite often—and I know you’re aware that. There is the logical part of me that knows that you understand you aren’t just another one-night stand to feel something. But the other part of me is terrified of the morning.”

The pieces fell into place for Yasha. She firmed up her hold on Beau’s hips in response. Yasha leaned in, pressed her forehead to Beau’s jaw, and left a chaste kiss against her neck.

“It’s okay, Beau,” Yasha murmured with her lips against Beau’s neck. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

She thought she said the wrong thing when Beau choked on a sob above her. But before Yasha could pull back or say anything else, Beau wrapped her arms around Yasha’s shoulders and hugged her fiercely.

Yasha wound her arms around Beau’s waist and held her, let her cry into Yasha’s hair for as long as she needed. At some point, Yasha started rubbing a hand up and down Beau’s back over the tunic in soothing, even strokes. She kept up a steady litany of reassuring murmurs, hoping Beau would understand.

Yasha would not so easily leave again, not if she could help it.

Eventually, Beau’s tears subsided and Yasha got her to pull away so that she could thumb away the tears from Beau’s cheeks. Beau sniffled softly and murmured an apology that Yasha immediately dismissed.

“You do not have to apologize, Beau,” Yasha said as she brushed away another stray tear. “I want every part of you that you are willing to share with me. And that includes this.”

Beau looked like she might cry again, but there was also something lighter to the sheen in her eyes Yasha hadn’t seen before.

“I would like to kiss you again,” Yasha confessed as she continued to hold Beau’s face between her palms. “But only if that is okay with you.”

For all that she looked a mess and her voice croaked from crying, Beau’s answer was eager and immediate.

“Please. Please kiss me.”

They met in the middle, Yasha tipping her head to one side and Beau the other. It was easy and gentle, unassuming. They were content to linger on the other’s lips for as long as they both needed.

Yasha provided the inertia, however, when she moved her hands. Her fingers had gone a little numb where they rested against Beau’s hips. She slid her hands up Beau’s back, just to get her limbs moving, and her hands caught under the hem of the now dry tunic. The pads of her calloused fingers were a warm contrast against the small of Beau’s back, a comfortable heat.

Beau gasped into Yasha’s mouth at the touch, back arching slightly and fingers tightening on Yasha’s shoulders.

Yasha grinned up at Beau’s flushed face, amused and endeared. Perhaps a little reckless again as she put more pressure through her hands to Beau’s back.

Beau would never admit to pouting in that moment, but her lower lip stuck out as Yasha teased her gently.

The tunic didn’t stay on much longer.

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #my writing #writing #beauregard lionett #yasha

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seidenbros · 2 years

Text

You'll Make Me Brave Ch. 3

Pairing: Geraskier (Geralt x Jaskier) (Yennefer STILL supporting EVERYTHING)

Warnings: loss of a loved one, murder, emotional damage, (child) abuse

Word Count: 2877

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

__________

Of Books and Brothers

He wasn't ready.

Contrary to what he'd thought, he wasn't really ready to stand in front of his father's house again, the house he'd grown up in, where all the bad stuff had happened. Geralt and Yennefer were silent, didn't pressure him into going further, but he knew they were waiting for it, for him. Yennefer as his support and Geralt fulfilling his duty – but it also felt like some kind of support, though Jaskier couldn't be sure. There was a strange kind of trust he had in Geralt, especially after he'd shared a bit about his own past, after they'd established that they weren't that different, but he still had to be a little careful around him. In theory, Jaskier was sure that he hadn't done that to his father, but it was all a little blurry.

“Okay,” he said more to himself, than to the people with him, and he want towards the door, waiting for Geralt to open it. “It was dark, the lights inside were off... I don't even remember why I came here in the first place.” Jaskier tried to think, but he couldn't remember. Was it something he'd wanted to tell his father? Something he'd wanted to pick up from the house? At that time of day? He couldn't say. “I could see him lying on the floor though, because there was light shining inside from the porch.” His father hadn't been a small man. He'd always been big and imposing, scary really. He walked to where his father's body had lain on the floor. The marks from the crime scene team were still all there, as well as the blood on the floor, which nearly made Jaskier sick again, but he managed. For a moment, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath to compose himself again. Slowly, he walked around where his father had lain, where he'd taken his last breath.

“After...” He waved his hands around, because he didn't want to say it out loud again that he'd pulled the knife from his father's chest, because they already knew. Right now, he didn't have to repeat himself, though he knew that he'd probably have to state all this in court as well at one point. “I felt dizzy and I... I sat back, pushed myself away from him.” Jaskier licked his lips, slowly looking towards the back door. “I heard something that made me look up. There was someone standing there... nearly as tall as my father, I'd say.” He'd only seen the shadow by the door, before the person had vanished without a word.

“Can you remember anything else about him?” Geralt's voice pulled him back from his thoughts. He was right there by his side, but Jaskier had felt all alone for a moment. He wasn't, he knew that, but the chill that had run down his spine, had made him feel like the little kid all alone in this big house, afraid of his father coming home.

He thought for a moment, before he shook his head. “No, I don't really remember anything else. He just stood there, looked at me, and then he left.” He saw Geralt and Yennefer exchange looks. “What is it?” he asked immediately. “What?” Fear rose in him, making him take a step back from the two other people in the room with him.

“Jask, do you know how lucky you are? What could have happened?” Yennefer's voice sounded alarmed, the look on her face concerned. God, he had had no idea what could have happened the night before, and Yennefer was just glad that he was here in one piece. It took a moment to register in Jaskier's brain to what she was referring, but when he did, all the colour drained from his face.

“Come here.” Geralt was at his side with one long stride, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's middle to keep him steady. He looked around for a moment, before he lead Jaskier to the kitchen, made him sit down on a chair. His breathing was ragged, his eyes unfocused and Geralt as well as Yennefer were both concerned. He was starting to panic, and that was something they could not allow to happen. “Jaskier!” Geralt said with a steady voice, crouching down in front of Jaskier, taking his hands in his, gripping them tightly. “Jaskier, look at me!” That at least managed to get the musician's attention and his eyes began to focus on the Detective. “Take deep breaths, okay? In and out, just follow my lead!” It sounded ridiculous, but it worked. Jaskier focused on Geralt's breathing, steadying his own. The dizziness in his head slowly vanished, the tightness in his chest as well. His mind cleared all thanks to the Detective who was holding his hands. “There he is again,” Geralt said with a smile on his lips, relieved that it had worked.

“I...” Jaskier stammered, but shook his head. He couldn't find the right words, but apparently, he didn't need to.

“Look, he could have attacked you, but he didn't. That would have been the perfect opportunity, but he didn't take it.” Maybe, it was just because Jaskier's appearance had spooked that man, but Geralt didn't really think that he would want to harm Jaskier at all. His father? He had it coming after everything he'd found out, because in addition to what he'd done to his own family, Geralt had gotten some news about all the people he'd blackmailed to get money. The list of possible suspects grew by the minute apparently. “I don't think he'll come after you, because then he would have taken his chance right then and there.”

“You're probably right,” Jaskier agreed, nodding his head, hands still in Geralt's, because he didn't want to let go. It felt good, familiar somehow, and it soothed him to no end.

“Still...” It was Yennefer who was speaking up now, stepping towards the two men. “Maybe, we shouldn't leave Jaskier alone, you never know. Maybe you could keep an eye on him?” Well... on the one hand, she really wanted to know that Jaskier was safe, and what was better than making him stay with Geralt? Of course, Jaskier was welcome to stay with her, and she could throw things at whoever came through the door, talk them down, or whatever, but if he was staying with someone who had a gun – or probably more than one – in his possession and the rights to use it, he was probably safer. On the other hand... she wanted to see what this was between the two men, maybe play a bit of matchmaker. Granted, it was the worst timing ever, but there was something between them. Even she could see and feel that. Whatever it was! She'd seen people look at Jaskier like this, but she'd never seen Geralt look at anyone that way in all the time they'd known each other. And Jaskier? He'd had his trouble with allowing people to touch him, and now she knew that it was due to the past abuse, and he'd told her once that he needed to trust someone to allow them to touch him, which had come naturally with Geralt. They were holding each other's hand now, just like they'd done this morning. Such a small touch that could be so intimate, and with them, it somehow was. Sure Jaskier had been reallyintimate with some people, had shared a bed with them, but he'd always said, that just sexwas a different matter. Touching was okay during this, but afterwards... he could only cuddle with someone that he trusted.

“That might not be such a bad idea,” said Geralt, slowly getting up again, reluctantly letting go of Jaskier's hands, but he still kept his eyes on the singer. “That is if you're up for it.”

Jaskier looked from Geralt to Yennefer and back. He'd said that that guy was probably not after him, but Jaskier was still feeling a little sick at the thought, that he'd actually seen him. And being in the vicinity of a Detective who would be able to protect him should the occasion arise, wasn't such a bad idea, was it? In addition, he really didn't want to go to his small apartment at the moment, because what if that guy found him there?

“If it's okay for you, I'd like to take you up on that offer,” he eventually said, feeling his heartbeat rise when Geralt smiled at him again. It was such a beautiful sight, Jaskier had to admit, suited the Detective so well, but he was under the impression, that Geralt didn't get the chance to smile that often. Especially not after they'd shared stories of their past.

After leaving the crime scene behind, the three set off to Jaskier's apartment so that he could get some clothes ready and whatever he would need for a few days. Of course, he couldn't leave his guitar behind, but that had been clear to everyone. Apart from that, he'd only grabbed what he really needed – and his mother's diary, because he always tried to keep it close. The one thing he'd left from her, and even though she'd written down all the bad things that had happened, there were beautiful memories as well, and he cherished them.

Geralt's home was not like he'd imagined it. They'd taken Yennefer to her apartment-complex, but then it had been just the two of them. He'd thought that Geralt would be living in a small apartment, only the necessary furniture, because he was rarely home due to his job, but it was quite the contrary. It was a little house at the outskirts of town with a small garden. No white and clean furniture, there were splashes of colour here and there, an old wooden table in the middle of the living room, a soft-looking sofa, and there were plants. That was what he'd least expected, but it wasn't just the plants inside, he had a small herb garden as well, which made Jaskier smile.

“I didn't expect you to live like this,” he eventually said, setting down his guitar and bag, before he stepped further into the kitchen.

“Surprise!” Geralt said visibly amused. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. Of course, he'd let his boss know what had come up during the day, where they were in their investigation, and he'd also told him that Jaskier was staying with him. He hadn't been really happy with the situation, but after telling him that Jaskier might be in danger – even though he didn't really think so himself – he'd agreed to the arrangement. “I lived in a tiny apartment way too long, and it was okay, but then I found this place, and it felt like home, know what I mean? And it still does. It's warm, it's comfortable, it's inviting. More importantly: It's mine and nobody tells me what I can and cannot do here.” Oh, there had been some trouble with his landlord before, but not anymore. Here, he could do everything himself, make all the decisions, and if he decided to tear down a wall? To paint a room in a different colour? He didn't need to ask anyone for permission.

“Aaaand you have a cat!” Another surprise, but it made Jaskier chuckle. He would have expected Geralt to have a dog or a fish maybe, but not a cat. A cat that was now rubbing against his leg demanding attention.

“Yeah, that's Roach. She'll try to sneak beneath the sheets when you're going to bed, just so you know.”

Jaskier bent down to scratch the cat's head, and she purred immediately. At least, they were off to a good start. “That's okay... I could use the company.” Jaskier was too preoccupied with Roach to see the look on Geralt's face, which was probably better that way, since Geralt couldn't really say or rather didn't want to think about what was going on in his head. Had it been a good idea to get Jaskier into his house to keep a eye on him? He didn't know. But he liked having him around, making sure that he was alright, because Geralt thought, that Jaskier really needed that. Someone to look out for him. Sure, he had Yennefer in his life, but this was different.

“I'll show you your room and then you can get some rest, before I make us dinner, alright?”

“Sounds good.”

After showing Jaskier around, leading him to the guest room, Geralt took some time to prepare dinner. Yes, they'd had a nice breakfast, but Jaskier could really use some soulfood. Something that tasted good and that filled not only his stomach, but also his heart. The last 24 hours had been so much for him, and Geralt wanted to take his mind off things for a moment. So, he got to work to make Lasagna and salad. A recipe Vesemir had passed on to him, something he'd always made for Geralt when he'd had a particularly bad day.

When Geralt called Jaskier for dinner, he looked a lot better than when they'd arrived here. Some colour had returned to the singer's face and he didn't look so worn-out anymore, rather at ease, which Geralt hoped to be true.

“This already smells divine,” Jaskier commented, closing his eyes for a moment to really savour the smell that already made his stomach rumble. He really needed to eat properly and not skip meals at the moment, Geralt had to make sure of that. Today should be an exception. Jaskier opened his mouth to say something again, but Geralt spoke first.

“Yes, I can cook, I'm full of surprises. I might not be the best cook in the world, but there are some things I can whip up. And this is a recipe the leader of the orphanage gave to me.”

“Vesemir.” Jaskier nodded as he sat down, placing a small book beside his plate.

“Yes.” Geralt couldn't help but smile, because Jaskier had remembered the name. “He used to make it for me, when I had a bad day.” And there had been a lot of these. That was why lasagna was his go-to-food on days like this. “Now... eat up, you need it.” They both did, and for some time, they were quiet, except for Jaskier telling Geralt just how good the food tasted.

“What is that?” Geralt's curiosity got the best of him, and he indicated the book, Jaskier had brought with him. It looked old, faded.

“It's... my mother's diary.” Jaskier placed a hand on top of it before he pushed it across the table towards Geralt. “You can read it, maybe you'll find something I didn't. I've read it a couple of times now.” Some parts he'd skipped, because the memories were too vivid in his head, and there were things that man had done to his mother that even Jaskier hadn't known.

“Is this really okay with you?” Geralt had to make sure, because it felt like invading Jaskier's privacy, and he wanted the musician to feel safe around him. But that was the whole point, BecauseJaskier felt safe with him, because he trusted him, he wanted Geralt to read it.

“You already know part of what he's done, so you might as well get the full picture.” A sad smile was tugging at his lips, before he concentrated on eating again. Or at least he tried to, because his mind kept running in all kinds of directions, trying to figure out who that person could have been, when it hit him out of the blue. “Oh goodness...!” Geralt looked at him. “That guy... that might have been my half-brother.”

“Your what?” Geralt scowled at him, because that was completely new information. Nowhere in his files was a mention of a half-brother. As far as he knew, Jaskier was the only child in this family.

“Yes, it was all... messed up when he showed up about a year ago, and my father refused a paternity test, paid good money for him to stay quiet, because he couldn't deal with a scandal like that. If the media knew!” Jaskier rolled his eyes, because what others, what the media thought, had always been more important to his father than his family. “He was just guy trying to figure out where he came from, that's what he told me, but I know, I just know that he is my father's son.” It sounded strange when he worded it like that, but he didn't know how else to put it. “He's the spitting image of my father when he was younger.”

“So... he has a motif as well.” Being abandoned by a father you tried to get to know was definitely a reason to turn to violence – not for him, but going by the textbook, that was definitely a reason. “And you know his name?”

“Not his full name. He only introduced himself to me as Rience.”

#staffi writes #the witcher imagine #the witcher fanfic #geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier imagine #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #the witcher au #modern au #i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky #honestly don't ask me what is happening #I have a thing for Yennefer being the biggest fangirl of these two men

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linkspooky · 3 years

Text

Dabi the Villain, Touya the Victim

That no.1 title you’ve always wanted is a lot of pressure, huh? Has your heart been purified with all the praise you’ve received from the public? Does your newfound vigor as a father figure to your children, make you feel like you’re developing a ‘familial bond’ with them? You seriously thought if you could keep your eyes towards the future the past would forget itself would you? It’s time for someone to give you a life lesson - (RHA SCANS).

The past doesn’t forget. Dabi doesn’t forget. Scars may fade with time but Dabi’s won’t, they’ll only get worse and worse as he continues to burn himself using his quirk. Dabi arrives at literally the single worst time possible, to throw salt in old wounds, and stick his fingers in them for good measure. It’s clear, Dabi’s revenge is just going to make things worse for everyone, including his family, including Shoto.

However that begs the question, if not now, then when? This was always going to happen. I don’t mean ‘abusive families have to air their dirty laundry in live television’ I mean, there was always going to be some consequence to what Endeavor did to his family. Dabi is a monster, yes, but in-story he’s a monster of Endeavor’s creation. Dabi wouldn’t even exist without Endeavor’s direct actions. He’s a reflection of every bad thing Endeavor has done up until this point and everything he needs to face. The number one hero created the number one worst villain.

1. The Shadow

Dabi is more than just a murderer, he’s also a jungian archetype. The shadow is a jungian idea that states on the whole we are not as good as we think we are. In fact, we actually might be much worse.

The shadow is either an unconscious aspect of the personality that the conscious ego does not identify in itself; or the entirety of the unconscious, i.e., everything of which a person is not fully conscious. In short, the shadow is the unknown side.

To put it into simple terms how we perceive ourselves, what we are aware of the light, is the conscious mind.

Everything else, everything we’re unaware of, what we’re ignoring, how we might come off to others, the unintended consequences of our actions is the shadow we cast. This isn’t something I”m making up it’s directly referenced in story.

The approach of the villains have multiple times been compared to shadows stretching and growing deeper, this is Jungian symbolism.

The emperor of Fallen Light, the villain that Dabi himself sent after Endeavor said word for word “His shining Light beckons the dark.” This is a story idea that’s been set up for awhile, Endeavor’s light is a false light. He is a good hero, the best there is currently, but calling him a hero requires ignoring everything he has done to his family. Most of the people who call Endeavor a hero have no idea what he did to his family, and even most of his family is just trying to forget and move on with their lives.

Endeavor’s redemption so far has been a false one, it hinges on everybody else wanting to just move on with their lives, and everyone else being forgiving towards his actions. I’m not saying that Endeavor’s wish to atone isn’t genuine, I’m saying the story has been setting up an arc of false light. We are shown the light of his actions, his desire to redeem himself, his desire to be a hero that Shoto can look up to, and we ignore the shadow.

There’s a duality to Endeavor. Technically there’s a duality to everyone. There’s the light, and the dark. To put it in less abstract terms, even within good intentions there can be hidden bad intentions. A person who gives to charity might just be doing it to make themselves feel like they’re a good person. There’s even an episode of friends about this, Phoebe gets in an argument with somebody that even “charitable” deeds like giving awaay money can be a little selfish because helping others makes you feel good about yourself, so she tries the whole episode to find a truly selfless action.

There’s a duality to Endeavor, there are two Endeavors, Endeavor the hero, and Endeavor the bad dad. They are both Endeavor in the end, he is all of his good actions and bad actions. Focusing only on his bad actions, or only on his good actions would be an incorrect reading of his character.

What I’m saying is, this idea has been building up in the story for a long time. This duality in Endeavro’s character. He is a hero capable of villainous things. However, the public, Endeavor’s own family, and characters like Midoriya and All Might only really ever see the good side to Endeavor’s actions. They all look at the light, at Endeavor the hero.

For the most part Endeavor has not been confronted by consequences for his actions. Yes, Endeavor tries to listen when Natsuo expresses his hurt feelins. Yes, Endeavor realizes his family might want to live without him in the house. However, as opposed to Dabi who has been hated as a villain by all of society for the crimes he has committed, Endeavor is still getting the hero treatment. The worst Endeavor has to come against is his own children’s hurt feelings at his actions. Even then, Natsuo has somebody like Fuyumi constantly pushing him to try to reconcile with his father. He has Endeavor violating his boundaries, and hugging him. Rather than criticizing Endeavor for what he did, most of the criticism falls on Natsuo for not moving on. Like, what Endeavor did is just something that happened in the past that they all have to move on from. He still has the respect of his peers, he still has his position in society, he still has the title of Number One Hero.

This happens because everybody looks at Endeavor, and they’re all blinded by the light, they only see his good deeds and not his bad ones. This isn’t a post debating whether or not Endeavor earned or deserves his punishment, or whether require punishment, it’s just an argument that there are consequences to your actions. That’s Dabi. He’s consequences. Everyone around Endeavor has been repressing their feelings. The Todorokis are asked to repress their personal hurt over the past for the sake of moving forward.

Dabi is the shadow that Endeavor casts. There is a villain in Endeavor’s actions. As long as Endeavor ignores that, as long as he keeps seeing himself in only a heroic life, that villain is only going to manifest elsewhere. In a story, repression does not work, simply ignoring your problems does not work. If a character ignores their shadow that shadow manifests and takes on a life of it’s own.

Dabi is a response to those repressed feelings. Not only is he a repsonse to them, he’s an inevitable result of them. No child abuse doesn’t usually turn abuse victims into murderers. That’s also, not the point. The point is this is a story, Endeavor tried to just bury the past, and Dabi, rose from the grave and said “No, I don’t think the past is better off buried. I think we should talk about it.”

2. The Monster

“People like to think their actions are free from guilt but they’re not-” This is once again more Jungian symbolism. People want to believe they are on the whole good and well-intentioned people. People want to believe they are better than they are.

Dabi has been hurt. Burned even. While Endeavor only looks at the best of himself, his heroic intentions, his ambition to become number one, Dabi sees not only the worst in himself, but the worst in his father, the worst in everyone.

The reason people identify with Dabi is not because they think murderers are sexy (but let’s admit it they are) it’s because Dabi as a character is made up of hurt feelings. He has been burned. He doesn’t forgive the people who burned him. He represents a darker, rawer side to human emotion. Sometimes abuse doesn’t make people poor innocent victims, it’s just pain, sometimes nothing constructive or good comes out of it. Sometimes it’s just damage, to you, and everybody around you.

Putting aside the fact that he’s a murderer (hey I acknowledged it, look at me acknowledging it), Dabi is also written as a character to embody the worst parts of abuse. The negative emotions that Dabi feels are real. Dabi’s hurt feelings are just as real, as the good intentions and desire to forgive that family members like Fuyumi and Shoto have. Neither is more valid, more real than the other.

However, everyone looks at the light, and the shadow is ignored. Dabi’s hurt feelings haven’t even been acknowledged. Not only that, but the feelings of all people hurt tend to get swept under the rug for the sake of “everyone else.”

When Shigaraki says Heroes have turned a blind-eye to the suffering of others, he doesn’t mean that heroes don’t try their hardest to save people, or that heroes never save people. He’s saying that the characters in the story are repressing their issues instead of confronting them, and repression makes people ignorant instead of being able to truly address the problem. Now, connect that back to Dabi, who is the shadow of his father’s actions.

Toya himself is someone in the story who has been “forgotten.” We see Fuyumi praying at his shrine, as well as Endeavor, Natsuo can’t bring himself to forgive Endeavor because of his feelings over Toya. Yes, yes, yes. However. One, the number one hero had his son die and nobody even investigated into those situation. Two, nobody even talks about it nowadays. Shoto brings up his older brother’s death at the dinner table like it’s just an awkward subject he’s uncomfortable talking about... not you know, a tragedy.

And I’m not saying that Shoto is in the wrong here. I don’t mean to demonize his response. I’m suggesting he’s repressed. He’s repressing his hurt feelings about the brother he never got a chance to meet, his two other siblings, his mother, all of that to continue to work with his father because he wants to move forward with his dream, and probably because if he tried facing all of that it would hurt a lot.

However, it’s still the tendency of all the characters on the heroic side to repress things, and look at that from Dabi’s point of view. His own family members don’t even recognize him because of a few scars on his face.

It’s lonely. At the very least it’s lonely and serves to isolate Dabi in his grief further. Push him to believing that he really did die alone and was going to get forgotten, that his survival is just a hindrance that prevents everything in his family from moving forward. Dabi is made up of hurt feelings, and Dabi without prejudgice takes out those feelings on other people. However, Dabi is still a person. The same way Endeavor is both hero and villain, Dabi is both villain and victim at the same time. Dabi was a ten year old who didn’t really do anything wrong who died, after being ignored by his father his whole life. Dabi is, a zombie that’s barely alive, and constantly killing himself with his own quirk. Dabi’s pain is impossible to ignore, and yet he feels ignored.

The difference between Dabi and Endeavor is that Dabi is living as a villain, he acknowledges that he is a villain. He’s the only one in the league to show genuine remorse for killing people, crying a tear of blood and trying to dissociate his own feelings of guilt and the past from himself to the point where he remarks he’s going ‘crazy’ thinking about it. (That doesn’t make it okay, but since when is anything ever okay with the Todorokis?) You have a character who knows exactly what he did wrong, confronting a character who for the most part still sees hismelf as a hero.

Endeavor still sees himself as a hero in this situation. Dabi lives confronting the worst parts of himself (well he’s barely alive but still), he’s stich together scar tissue, and is covered in wounds. He is everything bad that has happened to him. But still, Dabi is at least AWARE.

Beyond all the other plot details, what he’s doing right now is confrontation of something that Endeavor was previously ignorant of. It’s the crux of Dabi’s speech to Endeavor. What he’s saying is pointing out the dark side of each of Endeavor’s good actions.

Endeavor becomes the number one hero, which means he finally gets all the praise, acclaim and honor he always thought he was entitled to. This doesn’t mean that Endeavor’s wish to become strong to serve as a supporting pillar for the nation was a lie, but what Dabi says also isn’t a lie either. It’s the hidden dark side of Endeavor’s actions which Endeavor does not acknowledge.

Endeavor wants to move on and act like a father to his children like twenty years after the fact, and coincidentally this also happens right after being handed everything he wanted on a silver platter. Dabi is pointing out, the negative sides of Endeavor’s actions. Aren’t you just being nice because you’ve gotten everything you’ve wanted now? Don’t you just think you deserve to have your children love you too?

Dabi is confronting Endeavor with the dark sides of actions so he can no longer remain blind, and he is literally in story an agent of the cosnequences of Endeavor’s actions. Dabi became a villain because Endeavor had a son for the sake of his own selfish desire to get stronger, cast him aside, and then even let Toya die. Even if Endeavor wants to move past that, Toya doesn’t. Because for Toya that defines his whole life. Toya was burned by either Endeavor’s flames, or the fire of his own quirk that Endeavor trained him to use. The reason Toya doesn’t move on is because for him, he can’t move on. Toya is dead. Toya died. Toya is some kind of zombie. And if not a zombie, Toya is dying. All because of what his father did to him. And he gets to see his father move on with his life. Everybody else gets to “Get over” his death with Toya, who is left behind.

Toya is a frankenstein’s monster, created by Endeavor, abandoned by Endeavor, let loose by Endeavor on the world. In the real world this would be a far more complicated question, but in a story, especially one that references frankenstein directly, Dabi is quite literally “Endeavor’s Monster” running amok. Dabi would not even exist if not for Endeavor’s actions.

Dabi doesn’t even know why he existed, or why he was brought into this world, because for him, all there’s been is pain. Pain enough to turn his hair white, and burn half of his skin off.

The same way Endeavor only sees the best of himself, Dabi only sees the worst of himself, the shadow. However, the difference between them is Dabi has grown up mostly in the dark.

Dabi is a reaction to circumstances. You can say it’s a bad reaction. You can say it’s not justified. You can call him a monster. You’re probably right, but still Dabi did not create those circumstances, Endeavor did, Dabi can only react to them. Dabi is a consequence to everything Endeavor did to his own family. It might be entirely Dabi’s choice how he reacts, and true Dabi did not have to choose to be a murderer, but Dabi also never deserved to be put into this situation in the first place.

If Dabi is responsible for his reaction, then Endeavor is equally responsible for creating him. It’s something Endavor has to confront, because this ignorance, this represion, it hurts people. Think of Endeavor’s actions a few chapters ago.

Shigaraki is another victim of an abusive father, just like Dabi. Shigaraki is also lashing out, and trying to bring down the hero society, just like Dabi. Endeavor right up until Dabi arrived, and revealed himself thought he was completely justified in wanting to kill Shigaraki for the sake of everyone. Up until five minutes ago, Endeavor only saw himself as the hero, the light, meant to vanquish the king of evil.

Endeavor was perfectly willing to kill Shigaraki up until five minutes ago, because he only saw him as a villain.

And now suddenly Dabi showed up and it got all complicated and shit. However, it was always complicated and shit. The villains were never objectively bad. The heroes were never objectively good. The world wasn’t as black and white as Endeavor saw it.

Now Endeavor’s good action (saving all of hero society as number one hero), requires something most people would consider to be objectively bad (putting down his own son).

The personal investment that Enji has in both Toya being his own son, and also his guilt over what he’s done to his family in the past, now make it impossible for Dabi to be just another villain.

Except Dabi is Shigaraki. Dabi is Shigaraki, Himiko, Twice, Shuichi (not compress tho he’s just in it for the drama of it all). The villains in this story are trying to draw the attention of the heroes to problems within society, problems that have negatively affected them, so they can be fixed. You can’t fix something if you’re blind to it. You can’t deal with something by ignoring it. Dabi’s confrontation isn’t only inevitable, it’s necessary for moving forward.

The shadow isn’t destroyed or ignored, it’s accepted, because in the end it’s a part of you. You are both everything good about you, and all of your flaws at the same time. Living as a fully rounded person means acknowledging that.

Enji’s development is about putting his selfish sense of entitlement aside and learning how his actions have impacted others. Here is Dabi, dancing around going “Hey, Dad, this is how your actions have impacted me. Look at my burns.”

Confrontation is good. The hurt feelings that have been repressed should be expressed.

If Enji had continued on being ignorant, he would have unknowingly torched his own son, and just seen him as another one of the villains. Isn’t that the worst possible result? Beyond hero and villain, isn’t a father killing his own son tragic?

Dabi’s personal revenge is wrong. His decision to lash out is wrong. His obvious desire to kill himself, and then his own father isn’t just wrong, it’s unhealthy. Trying to burn yourself alive and be a martyr to a cause because you think there’s no good reason for you to be alive, and you’re going to die anyway no matter what you do - is in fact a bad coping mechanism.

Dabi is wrong, however, ignoring what happened to him is also wrong. It’s all wrong. Trying to repress those hurt feelings is just as unhealthy a coping mechanism, as lashing out with them.

Dabi is all hurt feelings, yes, he can’t forgive and he can’t forget, but maybe some things like the past shouldn’t be forgotten. Rather than ignoring the past you can acknowledge it, learn from it, reincorporate it into who you are now, because the past is just as much of a part of the present as Dabi’s burnt skin and scars are a part of who he is now.

#todoroki touya #dabi #bnha spoilers #bnha 290 #mha spoilers #mha 290 #i love that i can use that tag now #touya todoroki #todoroki toya #toya todoroki #league of villains #mha meta #my hero academia theory #dabi is a todoroki #todoroki family drama

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