#there’s a corner that needs an emotionally vulnerable person to cry into | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

icey--stars · 6 months

Note

Heyo, I saw your requests were open and I had an idea for Azris that has been killing me! So we all know that Azzie is severely traumatized by fire in his childhood and is probably deadky afraid of it. Enter Eris, his fire wielding mate. I was thinking of a fic where maybe the two of them are arguing about something or maybe Eris is upset and Azriel is pushing him to open up. And Eris loses control and lashes out with his power, burning Azriel with his fire. The angst would be horrific but sooo good. Becuz of Beron, I think Eris would hate himself cuz he thinks he's become like his father and Azriel has to convince him that they're alright

I completely understand if it's too dark or messed up (I'm sorry I love angst) Have a great day/ night regardless. I love your writing!!

We're Okay

Azriel x Eris (Azris) word count: 2.2k

anon, you have come to the RIGHT PERSON for this one. first off, love the angst. angst is the BEST especially if its hurt/comfort like what you had in mind. (when it's finished, you might find my fic "non est vivere sed valere est" interesting to read if you enjoy this kind of stuff!)

anyway, I loved the idea and I really hope you enjoy :)

(also please note that this idea is FAR from being "too dark or messed up" because I've written way worse, I promise.)

WARNINGS: Panic attacks, lots of self-blame, mentions/references to domestic abuse (from both characters), burns and mentions of injuries (past and present)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

“Come on,” Azriel says, his fingers going up to rub his eyes in frustration. “Tell me. You know you can trust me.”

Eris shakes his head, curling his knees even tighter to his chest and shrinking down and wiggling just another inch away from his mate. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t. And why couldn’t Azriel just understand that? Eris was fine. Or would be. But with tears still staining his eyes, Azriel just couldn’t let it go.

“I’m fine,” he says, his breath hiccupping right after. “Just leave it, Az.”

Azriel sighs, his wings relaxing just a little bit behind where he kneeled in front of Eris.

“Eris,” he begins sternly. “You’re crying. And you just came from a family reunion. Would it be so bad to say that you’re lying?”

Eris glares at his mate through his tears. “Let it go,” he says, voice broken and nothing like the strong, unwavering tone he had been trying to get out. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Azriel insists. “Please love, just tell me. Let me in.” Those hazel eyes shined with so much care and worry that Eris felt like throwing up.

“Leave it,” Eris growls, turning his head away in a futile attempt to hide the tears continuing to leak from his eyes.

He was just being a bit… off today. He’d gone to a family reunion with his brothers, Jax, Hue, and Kuhn in the Day Court with Helion, Lucien, and his mother. Nothing had gone wrong, per se, but emotionally, it’d taken a lot out of him. Helion kept calling him son and Lucien seemed happy and Jax even smiled a little bit-

It was just so tiring. Eris sometimes wished that he could be that happy, but in his mind, he doesn’t think he ever could. With burn scars littering his body from Beron, he wasn’t worth it. Everyone already thought of him like his father and even if a few people didn’t, it wasn’t enough.

He suddenly feels a hand come to rest on his shoulder and Eris panics, throwing out his fire in a desperate attempt to get away. He sucks all the fire from the firelights as well, going to need it to defend himself in this vulnerable state-

He recognizes the pained noise that escapes the person’s mouth and feels a sharp, burning pain down the bond that they share.

Eris opens his eyes and sees Azriel groaning, holding his hand close to his body, moving away from him.

Eris’s heart drops.

“Azriel,” he says breathlessly and immediately moves forward to try and see his mistake.

“No,” Azriel says, backing up even further, his wings curling in closer to him as if in a shield. The shadows that have been relaxing in the darker corners of the rooms come rushing back to his mate as soon as Eris relights the firelights “Don’t-” Azriel begins but then groans, his head going up. There was obvious pain on his face.

Eris spots Azriel’s injured hand and feels like winnowing to the darkest cave in existence and staying there forever. He deserves it.

Azriel’s skin was red and blistering already, especially around the old scars on his hand.

Azriel pulls it away from his chest to examine it. The palm was bright red and blistering around the old scars. There were a few white spots as well and Azriel’s face was tight with pain.

“No,” Eris breathes, more tears coming to his eyes at the sight. “Please no.”

“Eris,” Azriel says, his voice a bit rougher. “It’s alright-”

Eris glances up at his mate and then back down to the burns he caused.

No, he begs. Please no. He wasn’t supposed to burn Azriel. He could never burn Azriel. He’d been slowly working to help him alleviate his fear of fire from that one fateful night when he was eight years old and now he’d just ruined it. All of it.

Azriel could never trust him again. He shouldn’t. Eris was just like his father. Too short-tempered, emotionally unavailable, and cruel that he hurts his loved ones. He never deserved a mate to begin with, but he tried to trust Azriel. Obviously, that could never happen now.

Eris watches in horror as Azriel pokes at one of the blisters a little, hissing some.

Then Azriel looks back up at Eris, tears in both their eyes now, and says, “Eris, take a deep breath. It’s okay.”

“I burned you,” Eris says, horrified. “I-”

“Eris,” Azriel says sharply. “It’s okay. Deep breath for me.”

“I burned you,” Eris repeats, standing up suddenly to try and back away. Where could he go? He needed to leave. Azriel wanted him gone. He’d go see the healers and then he’d realize it was all Eris’s fault that he was hurt-

“Eris,” Azriel snaps. “Look at me, love.”

Eris regrets it, but he obeys the order and looks down at his mate and love.

“Good,” Azriel praises, standing up as well. “You’re okay. Everything’s alright.”

“No- no it's not,” Eris chokes out, backing away right to the wall from Azriel. He could never touch him again. He didn’t deserve it. He deserved nothing. He’d hurt the one goddamn person he was never supposed to hurt.

Azriel walks forward, opening his arms. “Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Eris chokes out, turning away. “I don’t deserve it. I hurt you. I should go. I need to get out-”

Azriel cuts him off sharply, “No, you’re not leaving and you do deserve it, Eris. I know you hurt me, but it’s okay because I know you didn’t mean to.”

“But your half-brothers-”

“I know what they did. They did it intentionally. You thought you were in danger and retaliated accordingly. That’s okay. You don’t get to take all the blame for this. I should’ve asked if it was okay to touch you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eris gets out, his arms crossed over his chest. He probably looked a complete mess right now. He’d already been crying before but now he’d hurt his mate. He could never forgive himself for that.

“My love,” Azriel coos. “It’s not entirely your fault either.”

“But your hand,” Eris chokes out. “It’ll scar even more.”

Azriel scoffs. “Eris, I don’t care if it scars. It’s already scarred. And because of you, I don’t hate my hands so much anymore. And I certainly will never hate you for this. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Eris sucks in a swift breath and turns his head away when it comes out in a whoosh. “I’m just like Beron,” Eris chokes out. “I hurt you, Azriel.”

Azriel stares at him like he could see into his soul and then sighs. “Eris, you could never be like your father. Never.”

“But I-”

“It was an accident, Eris. Accidents happen. I know you love me. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“How?” Eris chokes out. “How do you know that?”

“Because you’re reacting like this,” Azriel whispers, daring another step forward. “If you were like your father, you’d probably be laughing evilly right now. But you’re not. You’re so goddamn worried that I hate you that you can’t breathe right now.”

“You should hate me,” Eris whispers, closing his eyes tightly and shifting his weight back and forth onto either foot. “You should hate me like that day I left Mor in the woods.”

“Eris, I could never hate you,” Azriel says sternly. “I love you too much for that to ever happen.”

Eris presses his lips together in an attempt to keep from sobbing. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Azriel’s face softens even more. “It’s okay, my love. I promise.”

Eris nods and looks at Azriel’s injured hand again. “We should get you to the healers,” Eris mutters.

“Do you want a hug first?” Azriel asks, his arms open wide still.

Eris contemplates it for a moment before walking into the embrace, burying his face in Azriel’s neck.

“There you go,” Azriel whispers and wraps his arms around him. “It’s okay, love.”

Eris’s eyes leak more tears at that. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

“I forgive you,” Azriel whispers back. “I love you. I’m sorry for pushing you so hard.”

“It’s okay,” Eris whispers. “I was being dramatic.”

Azriel chuckles a little. “I’m sure the family reunion caused a lot of stress for you. Next time, I’ll try to let it go. I was just worried for you.”

“I know,” Eris whispers, his arms relaxing a little down to his sides so he can wrap them around Azriel’s lower back.

After a long moment of silence, Eris asks, “Are you sure you still trust me after that? I burned you. I hurt you.”

“Baby,” Azriel coos, kissing his forehead before pulling back enough to meet his eyes. “I forgive you. It was an accident.”

“Are you okay?” Eris asks. “I know I probably flashed the lights a little-”

“I’m just fine. I was a bit startled and scared for a moment, but I knew you were just the same. It’s okay.”

Eris nods. “Let’s get you to the healers,” He says, gently grabbing the wrist of the hand he knows he injured. “It still might be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” Azriel gets out after a hiss of pain. Eris still feels like shit, but he just had to make sure Azriel would be okay now.

Eris grabs his other hand and winnows them directly into the healer’s wing of the Forest House.

One of the female healers startles, but puts a hand over her chest and sighs. “High Lord, how may I help you?” She asks kindly.

Azriel takes a step forward and simply shows her his blistering, burnt hand. She winces at the sight. “Alright, come over here.”

They both follow and the healer directs Azriel to sit on the bed while she gathers supplies.

Eris decides to sit beside him, leaning into his side a little. Azriel turns to kiss his head again. “It’s okay, love,” Azriel whispers. Eris tries to hold back the tears. He knew he looked like shit, but hopefully the healer wouldn’t say anything.

She comes back holding a wad of bandages and a bucket of water. “Please put your hand in the bucket, Lord Azriel. It’s just cold water.”

Azriel obeys, hissing softly. Eris tenses, wanting to be able to take away Azriel’s pain.

“Can I ask how this injury occurred?” The healer asks. “So I know the best healing method.”

Eris winces and opens his mouth to explain his shame, but Azriel beats him to it. “There was just a minor accident when we were in our room, is all.”

“Right,” the healer muses. “Was it an open flame or was it… hot skin?”

“Flame,” Eris answers.

Azriel nods in agreement.

“Alright,” the healer says. “Once the burn stops hurting in the cold water, I’ll bring it out and clean it thoroughly before healing the top layer of the skin. But I’m going to wrap it with some antibiotic cream as well, just to be safe while the parts under the skin heal as well. It’s a pretty simple second-degree burn procedure.”

“Okay,” Azriel says. “Just leave me with some bandages to change it.”

“Do you know how to-” The healer pauses and then clears her throat. “Apologies, of course.” Her eyes were on Azriel’s other hand of burn scars. “Change it daily or whenever it gets wet for a week and then I want to check it again just to be sure.”

Eris hears the word week and winces again. Azriel was going to be in pain for that long?

Azriel grabs Eris’s hand with his uninjured one and squeezes gently to reassure him. “Sounds good.”

“Right. Let your burn sit in the cold water for a while and call me over when it stops hurting or stinging.”

Azriel dips his head slightly and leans into Eris’s side as soon as the healer walks away. “It’s alright, Eris. I doubt it’ll take that long. These,” Azriel squeezes Eris’s hand for example, “Took three weeks and they were bloody. These are puny in comparison.”

“I’d rather you’d have never been burned,” Eris mutters, leaning his head against Azriel’s shoulder.

“I know,” Azriel says. “But what I’m saying is that Illyrians do heal fast.”

Eris nods.

Azriel hums and then shifts his shoulder, forcing Eris up off of it to meet his eyes. “Look at me, baby,” Azriel says gently.

Eris obeys, holding back tears still.

“We’re okay,” Azriel says. “Everything’s alright. Accidents happen, yeah? This is just one of those. I would never think of you any differently because of it. In fact, because of the work we’ve been doing to decrease my fears of fire, I didn’t freak out. Did you notice that? You made me stronger, Eris.”

Eris swallows and then nods.

“I love you,” Azriel continues. “I’ll never stop either. It’s like you’ve grabbed me by my throat and won’t let me go, but I don’t want to leave either.”

Eris chuckles. “I could always actually grab you by your throat.”

“Later, baby. Later.”

And with that, Eris relaxes into Azriel’s side, content to wait with him and help him however he can by changing bandages or by kissing the burns better when they ache. Whatever his mate so desires. He knows that Azriel has said he forgives him and he doesn’t have to make up anything, but Eris can’t help from doting on his mate a little. Both as an assurance that Azriel loves him and that they’re alright.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added!)

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

#talk with me #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel #eris vanserra #eris acotar #azris #azris fanfiction #angst #mywriting

55 notes · View notes

blainesebastian · 1 year

Text

low energy (ccg universe)

words: 1,349 ship: austin butler x reader summary: ( @whoreforbrownies requested) “ccg feeling very stressed with work and personal life stuff, luci draws her something cute” warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

You’ve noticed you’ve been low energy lately; it’s just been that type of week for the past two. A lot of great things are going on in your life, don’t get it wrong, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel physically and emotionally drained because of it. If you’re honest, you never really pictured your life being so chaotic before you met Austin and decided to date one another. You were script writing and working on sets but felt so disconnected from actually crossing a line you’d drawn for yourself. A line that separated worlds. Thinking about submitting a script somewhere for it to be read and but used were two very different things.

And that happens not once, but twice.

You’re grateful but definitely feeling burnt out.

It also doesn’t help that you and your husband are on opposite schedules, so often one is working while the other is home with Luci. You miss him, you miss time together, family and relationship wise. You feel like you’ve been living your life in pieces, trying to figure how they fit together even though it should be obvious.

You know how important self-care is, even though people make jokes about it. You know you need to take a day for yourself, it just…never seems like the right time. You suppose that’s the thing about overworking, though, taking a step back never feels well-deserved.

“You’re not a failure if you take a break.” Austin tells you one night on the couch as you rest against his body. “You know that, right?” It’s late, Luci’s in bed, the TV is on but neither of you are really watching it. Just absorbing this uninterrupted time together.

The heat of his body and the scent of his cologne is comforting in ways you cannot put into words.

And of course, Austin knows exactly what to say, can read you like an open book even though you haven’t said very much since you joined him on the couch. You feel transparent, and guilty, and vulnerable and so a failure.

You nod your head in response but your lower lip is wobbling and you’re covering your face as you begin crying because you feel frustrated, and embarrassed, and tired.

There’s a soft whine that leaves your lips as Austin whispers c’mere, pulling you closer against him, as if that’s possible in your positions on the couch. He holds you tight, both arms wrapped around you, one hand threading through your hair as the other traces circles into your back. He’s calm and comforting, patient, brushing his lips over your forehead and squeezing you every time your body shudders.

That’s how the last time you were home together went and, well, you know you can’t keep going at the same rate feeling like that. You promise yourself to lay out your calendar tomorrow, figure out the month, find when a day or two will work.

Looking up at Austin as you’re blanket-burritoed into the corner of the couch, you give him a light smile as he hands you a cup of mint tea, leaning down to brush his lips over your forehead.

“Need help?” You ask, because he offered to clean up the kitchen after dinner.

He shakes his head, “Almost done.” And goes back in.

Luci, from her spot on the living room floor, a set of dino figurines in her hands, turns to look up at you. She stands with a raptor in her clutches, moving to dramatically toss herself onto your lap. You chuckle lightly and thread your fingers through her beautiful mop of curls.

“What’s going on?” You ask her.

“Got dinos,” She declares. It’s almost her bedtime but you’re too tired yourself to get up, so you let her have a bit extra time, “Mommeeee, are you sad?”

God, and that reaches right inside your chest and squeezes far too hard. Kids are wildly perceptive. You swallow over what feels like gravel in your throat and shake your head, “No baby, just tired. Need a good day at the park.”

And that she seems to understand, brightening at one of her favorite things. She nods and takes off at a run towards the kitchen, and you hear her ask Austin to help get her painting stuff down that you keep in the hall closet. There’s really not time to get into all of that when she’s got to get to bed but what’s the harm in letting her stay up a bit longer?

They disappear for a few minutes and you wrap your hands more comfortably around your mug of tea, having some sips before Austin eventually comes back. He sits down on the couch with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. A stubborn curl hangs against his forehead and your fingers itch to play with it,

“She’s paintin’ somethin’ very important in there, just thought I’d let you know.”

You let out a soft laugh because right—can’t wait to add the latest art piece to the fridge or a collection of drawings that have accumulated on the bedroom wall. You chew on your lower lip, Austin reaching over and brushing your hair over your shoulder.

“How you doin’?” He asks softly, checking in. You love that about him.

Giving him a small smile, you nod, “M’alright. Gonna look for a few days next week to take off, give myself some time.”

Austin smiles down at you, wrapping an arm around your frame. You inch closer automatically, comfortably setting yourself up against his chest. “Proud of you.” He whispers, brushing a kiss against your temple. And even though you kinda want to roll your eyes as you smile, because…taking days off is not that big of a deal, you get where he’s coming from.

Sometimes the hardest part to admit to yourself is that you might need a break, that there’s nothing wrong with taking that time. There’s nothing glamorous in the grind that’s overworking, killing yourself when something isn’t clicking. You know that you’ll be that much better with a long stretch to breathe.

You tilt your chin up, brushing your noses together in a soft nuzzle before kissing him. “Thank you.” You reply against his lips.

Austin begins stroking his hand through your hair in a way that’s incredibly mesmerizing, comforting in a way that it nearly puts you to sleep. You’ve contentedly molded yourself into his side, face tucked into his neck. You tilt your head up when you hear the patter of feet, smiling as Luci rushes into the living room and very proudly plops her painting down on yours and Austin’s laps.

“What is this?” You ask with a soft laugh.

It’s upside down, the paint a little wet still so it’s smeared in places, but you get the idea of what the drawing is—the three of you, very obviously drawn—you and Luci have matching hairstyles and Austin is taller than the both of you, almost comically so, and you’re surrounded by different dinosaurs. Luci identifies them all: triceratops, brachiosaurus, pterodactyl, raptor, iguanodon. Because of course. There’s stifled laughter in your chest because…there’s no way any of you would be alive in that company, and you can tell by Austin’s face he’s holding back similar commentary.

But…

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.” You tell Luci, reaching forward to lift her up and sit on your lap, between you and Austin. You wrap an arm around her, squeezing her into a hug, “Thank you so much, baby.”

Luci has a whole story behind her creation, which you and your husband listen to in detail.

When you take those few days off, you get paper that’s large and wide enough to span across the living room floor and Luci shows you how to paint dinosaurs with her hands (and feet). She’s a great teacher.

It really reminds you how important it is to take time off, to enjoy small things like this, puts everything larger into perspective. Not to mention it’s always a nice reminder not to try and outrun dinosaurs.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg

129 notes · View notes

bluemidnightmelody · 4 months

Text

lover/fighter - my favorite moments

[Little snippets from my Finnick/OC longfic that are stuck in my head]

From Chapter 43 - My crying hero

Finnick licks his lips and sighs softly before facing the icy sea of her eyes. "It's not quite over, but for us it is," he explains. It is both doom and salvation. He constantly longs for it to finally be over, but the end always means defeat in a way, a failure for him.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry." Rhea suddenly seems to forget her own worries and all that remains is sympathy. Even if his wording was more than vague, it can only be interpreted in one way. Hector has died. If she was feeling better, she should have realized it sooner, because if he was still a mentor, he wouldn't be here, he would be fulfilling his duties.

"Yes, me too," he replies weakly. It came as such a surprise after he'd spent the last three days preoccupied with nothing but Hector. Of course, he always takes his task seriously, but this time the fact that he needed to somehow distract himself from Rhea was also a factor. To stop his thoughts from running amok in his head, he poured all his energy into Hector and convinced himself more than ever that he would get the boy out of the arena alive. It all looked good until the wind suddenly changed.

"It only happened just now, and I couldn't bear to go back. Then somehow I ended up here." He has to turn his head away as his self-control threatens to go. Saying it out loud makes it so much worse, plus the overwhelming exhaustion and still very fresh emotional stress from the service he's done for Ambrose.

The only person who has seen him cry in years is Mags, but that could be about to change as his eyes are already getting moist. Even in front of Annie he pulls himself together, because there's no way she needs to see him like this, but at home in District 4 it's usually easier than here.

Otherwise, he manages to escape into some dark corner, at least for such weak moments. Now he has neither the opportunity nor the strength to run away while Rhea pulls him close this time. The result is that they are now sitting intertwined on the sofa, with her half-sitting on his lap, hugging him to her chest and gently running her fingers through the soft hair above his neck as he is wrapped around her, both to keep her from falling off and to keep himself grounded.

"It's not your fault," she whispers somewhere near his ear. She doesn't need to know what's really going on in his head, because the guilt he's radiating is almost palpable. Somewhere in the back of her mind is the question of where exactly he came from when he says he didn't want to go back. What could have prompted him to leave the Victory Building despite the mentoring, especially while Hector's situation is uncertain? The answer is pretty obvious and only makes it worse.

Finnick can just about hold back the emotional outburst but balances on the very edge of a ledge. He feels his fluttering breath, which he can't calm, and stammers with difficulty, "But it kind of is." His tribute needed him, and he wasn't there.

Rhea bites her lip, and she feels the trembling in his back as she strokes it gently in an attempt to calm him. The worst state she has seen him in so far was when she had to rescue him from that nightclub, but tonight probably supersedes that memory. When she reviews it all again, it's actually amazing how often she's seen him in such weak and vulnerable moments, but he's never been as close to her as he is now. It's not that she felt any less sorry for him back then, it's just different now.

Now and here, she has to admit to herself once and for all that there is nothing professional about this relationship anymore. There is not a shred of distance left, which is proven by the fact that Finnick is now emotionally closer to her than any of her friends. That doesn't mean they're any less important to her, it's just not the same.

"No. It isn't. You tried to save them and if you couldn't, no one else could have," she replies with honest conviction. Anyone would be lucky to have him as a mentor, as distorted as that may be, because she knows by now that there's probably nothing he wouldn't do to fulfill this task. She may not like it, but it is a fact that he will never be able to blame himself for not living up to his responsibilities.

"You are amazing. You have no idea how much."

They have already strayed so far from the path of a healthy relationship between doctor and patient that it makes no sense to hold on to it any longer. She'll happily leave the field entirely to Linus because, if she's honest, he's probably already doing most of her job as far as Finnick is concerned. It's certainly better this way, because otherwise it could all go in an unpleasant direction very quickly. On paper, everything can remain as it is, but the simple truth is that this has become something thoroughly personal and there's no point in trying to put any useless labels on it. There is no definition and therefore no standard procedure or behavioral protocol to follow or hold them back.

Finnick slowly understands what has actually brought him here. Getting the comfort he craves feels good and there seems nothing wrong with burying his face in her soft sweater. It's nice to be treated so tenderly, the way she plays with his hair, just the way he likes it, the way she smells so sweetly of vanilla, just like her whole home. "At the risk of coming across as conceited, can you please say that again?"

It doesn't sound the slightest bit conceited. It just sounds like someone who desperately needs some words of encouragement to avoid succumbing to the feeling of worthlessness that haunts them. She used to sound like that herself, and probably still does from time to time. "You're amazing, and trustworthy, and selfless, and anyone who thinks you wouldn't have done everything for this is an idiot," she says openly, and with enough emphasis to make it clear that these are not just empty words. "That also includes you, by the way. So, if you don't trust yourself, then believe me. I promised not to lie, and I know you've really done absolutely everything." And she comforts herself with the fact that it's really not a lie, even if she doesn't dare to speak the whole truth.

He has done truly everything, even if it means throwing away his own self-esteem for it. It's admirable in the most horrible way, what he willingly sacrifices for a game he knows no one can ever win. He deserves so much better than what this life is forcing on him.

She can feel it on her shoulder even before she hears it in his voice. Finnick has lost the battle with himself and can't stop the tears dampening the fabric of her sweater. "You're not so bad at this anymore," he replies, even if he has trouble getting the words out because of the lump in his throat.

Rhea remembers the conversation in District 4 when she told him how bad she was at comforting people. The truth is that it depends on the reason why someone feels bad. She's actually very empathetic, it's just that when it comes to topics where her eloquence fails, she sometimes looks a bit lost. But it is much more significant that he still remembers this. She doesn't realize it for the first time, but he seems to remember everything she's ever said to him, and she likes it when people can listen, really listen. "Yeah, and I don't know if you can tell, but I'm not even at my best right now," she remarks in an attempt to lighten the mood. He's usually so good at it, but today she has to take it from him.

It actually elicits a small laugh from Finnick, even if it almost sounds like a sob. "You've been practicing in secret, haven't you?" he asks, and you can detect the tiniest bit of amusement in his voice beneath the heavy layers of sadness, but that's enough for now.

"Just for you. You can feel honored," she counters the assertion with a light laugh. She can laugh again, she feels so much better, even though tears are now welling up in her eyes as well. It's so easy to make her cry at the moment, but this time she's not even sure if she's crying because she's sad or if something else has triggered it. What does it really matter?

Links to all the chapters: lover/fighter - Chapter Index

fanfiction on ao3 and wattpad

#finnick odair #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x oc #finnick x oc #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games x oc #hunger games #the hunger games #fanfiction #ao3

13 notes · View notes

cosmicjoke · 1 year

Text

“I’ve ranted myself into a little corner. I know why I resent him so, and find it so soothing to hammer at his reputation, to beat upon his immensity with both my fists.

He has taught me too much. He has brought me to this very moment, here, where I stand dictating to you my past with a coherence and calm that would have been impossible before I cam to his assistance with his precious Memnoch the Devil and his vulnerable little Dora.

Two hundred years ago he stripped me of illusions, lies, excuses, and thrust me on the Paris pavements naked to find my way back to a glory in the starlight that I had once known and too painfully lost.

... and I hate him only because I cannot imagine my soul without him now, and, owing him all that I am and know, I can do nothing to make him wake from his frigid sleep.”

Oof, this part. Coming off of Armand’s bitter and, at moments, petty criticisms of Lestat, accusing him of blowing his own pain and tragedies out of proportion, accusing him of making grand adventures out of “capers” as he calls them, etc... this part is all the more powerful, because it’s what’s actually there, underneath that bitterness and anger. He’s upset because Lestat is hurt, he’s fallen into a coma which Armand himself can’t rouse him from, trapped in his own mind, mentally and emotionally destroyed, and Armand can do nothing to help, and it’s that, more than anything I think, which caused Armand to lash out and rag on Lestat so much, before he finally broke under the misery of what he was actually feeling, and simply confesses to it here. That Lestat, for all the pain and anguish between them, gave Armand his life back, the very one which he had stolen from him five hundred years earlier, and in giving him back that life, shaped who Armand now is and was able to become again. Armand realizes and confesses here that without Lestat, he wouldn’t even be here, telling this story, and that he wouldn’t be the person he is now. And of course, you understand how that kind of reliance, that kind of dependence could lead to resentment and even hate. But Armand cares so much about Lestat, and loves him. And I think Armand’s anger here comes from the fact that he knows he owes Lestat the life he now has, and more than resentment towards Lestat for that, he’s anguished that in this moment of need, in this moment of Lestat needing help, Armand can do nothing.

There’s all these moments which really drive this home

“What good is it to go back down now to the chapel here and lay my hands on him again and beg him to listen to me, when he lies as though all sense has truly left him and will never return.

I can’t accept this. I won’t. I’ve lost all patience; I’ve lost the numbness that was my consolation. I find this moment intolerable-”

Or this, when speaking about how he hadn’t pitied Lestat when he’d come to him in Paris a hundred years before, seeking his help, but after the ordeal with Memnoch, he says

“But what I’d seen now was a devastation of the soul in his anguished face, and the vision of the one blue eye, shining so vividly in his streaked and wretched face, had been unbearable.”

There’s a sense here, I think, of guilt in Armand. This awful feeling that he didn’t help Lestat in the past, when he needed his help, and he can’t help Lestat now either, when he wants so much to.

I feel like this is, in part, supported by this sense in Armand of being unlovable, or undeserving of love, rather. This guilt he feels over not being able to help Lestat sort of affirming for him a sense of worthlessness in him. He says here

“I felt so sad for Lestat that he had bothered to wee for me...”

Which tells me that Armand doesn’t think his supposed death is worth anyone crying over, which, again, the parallels to Lestat are heartbreaking and remarkable I think. These two really are so much alike.

And then of course, there’s the topper to all this, the true reveal of Armand’s feelings regarding Lestat, when he overhears Marius and Santino talking about him, and realizes that Lestat has fallen mad, and that if he can’t come back to his right mind, Maharet plans to kill him

“Lestat, my Lestat- for he was never theirs, was he?- my Lestat was crazed and railing as the result of his awful saga, and held prisoner by the very oldest of our kind on the final decree that if he did not cease to disturb the peace, which meant of course our secrecy, he would be destroyed, as only the oldest could accomplish, and no one could plead for him on any account.

No, this could not happen! I writhed and twisted. The pain sent its shocks through me, red and violet and pulsing with orange light. I hadn’t seen such colors since I’d fallen. My mind was coming back, and coming back for what? Lestat to be destroyed! Lestat imprisoned, as I had once been centuries ago under Rome in Santino’s catacombs. Oh, God, this is worse than the sun’s fire, this is worse than seeing that bastard brother strike the little plum-cheeked face of Sybelle and knock her away from her piano, this is murderous rage I feel.”

I mean, damn, Armand’s love for Lestat here shines through so powerfully. The horror he feels at the thought of Lestat being destroyed, of him being imprisoned the way he had once been, how it’s that and that alone which really snaps Armand out of his resigned state of lying there, waiting to die, says it all. It also shows Armand’s own growth, his own realization, I think, about his feelings for Lestat. Where once he imprisoned and tortured Lestat himself, the very thought of it happening to Lestat now is enough to give Armand the will to fight for his own life, to give him the anger he needs to fight. That’s incredibly powerful and deeply moving, I think. And then just him calling Lestat “My Lestat” and saying he was never really Marius’, or any of the others who have laid claim to his life, that alone speaks to the depth of their history together, and how much they actually mean to each other.

#The Vampire Armand #Armand #Lestat De Lioncourt

57 notes · View notes

enneamage · 2 years

Note

can you expand more on why you feel like wilbur has npd/a cluster b disorder?

Oh god a direct excuse to talk about it I thought this day would never come

I’ve been an NPD truther to varying degrees of intensity for a while now. I knew it was a possibility, but things were pushed over a line after a while, and that was when I had a little (big) research arc around learning the ins and outs of NPD. It was eerie how much of what I learned lined up with what I was seeing.

I see this essay passed around in the actuallynarcissistic tag on tumblr a lot and I can see why, it’s probably the most comprehensive ‘here are the actual symptoms beyond grandiosity and here’s what they’re connected to’ list I’ve seen. There’s a lot of shoddy info about NPD out there because it’s a sensational topic that’s easy to get imprecise about, so I strongly suggest reading it to get a sense of what the condition can look like. I see a lot of Wilbur’s ‘quirks’ on this list, there’s a reason I keep linking it.

Starting off, Wilbur would fall on the ‘fragile’ or ‘covert’ end of the NPD spectrum, which presents differently than the grandiose end. There’s generally fluidity between these two points, but most of what we’ve seen of Wilbur leans more towards the covert end, having grandiose fantasies while remaining self-deprecating and sensitive in real life.

Internally/Externally Inconsistent

It’s not unusual for people in general to have different parts of their personality come out with different contexts, but NPD can push this into an extreme. The different levels of development across the different parts of himself are… wide. He knows how to handle a controversy like a politician but the closer he gets to his more vulnerable center the more childlike he can get, and time has revealed that the unstable part is the constant.

Wilbur has a lot of need, emotionally and practically. Narcissistic Personality Disorder is based on being self-preoccupied, concerned with combatting feelings of helplessness, despair, and irrelevance through their ego and external environment. Those with Vulnerable NPD tend to lean more openly anxious and depressive, playing down their grandiose fantasies but remaining passive aggressive and sensitive to criticism. They turn to their environment for praise, care, and validation, trying to balance out a feeling that can range from profound existential anxiety to internal deadness.

I’ve talked about how Wilbur used to threaten to cry as a power move, which is a layered thing to do. His despair is real, and he feels as vulnerable as he acts, but he has a way of throwing himself on the ground as a defensive move and playing dead to try and ward off arguments that he knows he can’t win. He will still occasionally pout to try and diffuse situations, leveraging pity as a tactic to try and make other people ‘the bad guy’ by engaging further. He will try to guilt people into caring for or catering to him by projecting his helpless self-image when he feels burnt out or cornered, to varying results; this is fairly pronounced Vulnerable NPD behavior.

At the same time, people with NPD tend to have an over-developed capacity to create temporary social masks in order to get what they want. Wilbur is good at making promises, short speeches and temporary impressions that make him look very promising and reasonable as a person. He may even believe what he says in the moment, as NPD has a kind of dissociative quality when it comes to being inconsistent, but most of these behaviors are geared towards short-term satisfaction over long-term payoff; praise for being impressive now is better than having to work to keep a promise later. Wilbur has a lot of unfulfilled promises in his life, and he's even sung about his ‘short sighted’ impulse control.

Obsessively Oppositional

Wilbur has very pronounced authority and control issues that show up in big and small ways.

He’s has said before that he ‘cannot’ work for someone else, and he’s even aware of that fact that it’s because he’s disagreeable. While I don’t know the exact extent that this has gotten him into trouble before, the fact that it’s affected his ability to make money and live is pretty telling. I’ve talked in less sensational terms about how Wilbur is very sensitive and defiant to feeling undermined, but it’s a really big part of what makes him self sabotage in certain situations. Wilbur can get resentful of prolonged social cooperation and may begin to rebel against it consciously or unconsciously by dragging his feet.

Wilbur also gets stubborn about weird little things a lot. The MCC skin thing is a perfect example of a petty ongoing thing, where he wants to push back against control by not participating in team skins for vanity and control reasons. In life he pushes against the petty things that he can get away with as acts of rebellion to feel more in control.

I feel like it’s not controversial to say that he’s got weird politics and his fixation on freedom shows up in them a lot, both in being a hopeless ameriboo and being connected to libertarianism. His whole dirty crime boy bit was kind of suspicious as well, being basically resentful of laws. He seems to hate having rules placed on him, especially by authority figures.

Emotional Dysregulation

Wilbur’s emotional control is not where it should be for a man his age. Even for someone socialised male, his raw anger at things some days suggests a very sensitive set of nerves, and the things that set him off are very telling. People with NPD, particularly the covert variety, are very sensitive and reactive to shame, criticism, and feelings of inadequacy, and will notice them everywhere. This is muddy because it overlaps with the depressive and anxious symptoms, so his sensitivity can be passed off as stemming from them instead of all being connected to something larger.

This is a death by a thousand papercuts thing. It’s generally simmering in the background, reacting with a bit more anger and intensity than he should to things in his environment, particularly if they set off his shame response. Wilbur fires back at chat defensively, getting into his condescending voice at things that range from mildly irritating to innocuous. He knows to not pick an outright fight with his own chat most of the time, since thousands on one is a stupid fight to pick, but he once made a comment along the lines of “Five minutes in and insulting chat, that’s not good” which suggested that it’s a thing he has to actively stop himself from doing. He tends to play off his need to cut people down as an English personality/humor thing, but the genuine anger underneath it makes me think twice.

The Love Life Problem

His history comes into this because he’s indirectly stated that he experiences the idealise, devalue, discard cycle that people with unaware NPD tend to experience with romantic relationships. This is the process where the internal sense of lack and instability in someone with NPD crosses with their emotional impulses and they find someone in their environment to project their hope of stabilising/fulfilling themselves onto.

They tend to use whatever people skills they have to woo and appeal to the person of their choice, hoping that this person is basically going to be the one. They can have a very complimentary view of them in this phase, idealising them and putting their hope towards a perfect future with them. After a while a sort of disgust builds towards the person for not serving the purpose that they had initially reached out to them for, as well as being ‘fooled’ by the social mask. An agitation builds up from feeling dead and isolated despite being around the other person, turning to resentment. They then start to devalue their partner, acting out and being dismissive. (Your Sister Was Right is him outing himself.)

This is why I find it so eerie when Wilbur goes into romance mode with somebody, there’s a good chance that he’s setting himself up to resent them as a consequence of his own actions. The part inside of him that ‘needs’ the most will never reach the person that he’s wooing if he dips into a false self, but his inner self has a bitter disposition and a deeply vulnerable amount of need, so it makes sense why he doesn’t lead with it.

(This is a weird little thing that happened with ghostbur actually, he began to resent that people liked the mask better than him and were so easily ‘fooled.’)

C!Wilbur

You know how Wilbur is a critblr gateway drug because he compulsively tells on himself in bizarre ways and you’re left holding the puzzle pieces whether you wanted them or not? I’ve really got to emphasise that c!Wilbur fits the profile of someone who has NPD having a meltdown to an uncanny degree. It’s fiction so it’s larger than life, but It’s like Wilbur stored the symptoms of NPD inside him like a fridge. Everyone knows that pogtopia was meant to be c!wilbur’s mental health spiral, but they never go as far as naming what all those symptoms were connected to. The fact that he hit every branch on the way down is way too much to call a coincidence, even though I’m sure it was unconscious on Wilbur’s part.

His character starts out making what NPD literature would call a shared fantasy, a kind of conceptual space where his vision spreads to others and they buy into a story that he makes about the world, as well as his role in it. He sells people on the value of this vision, and by extension the value of himself. Wilbur has an ongoing fascination with both politicians and cult leaders, and they feel very relevant here.

L’manburg is based on dismissing Dream’s authority as admin and substituting his own, disavowing Dream as a tyrant and declaring liberty and freedom and fuck-you-I-do-what-I-want. He invites people to the secret clubhouse and they elevate the legitimacy of the whole thing, but things quickly begin to unravel as they don’t feed the power fantasy in the way that he wanted.

While he publicly tries to play the charming social role, behind the scenes he is breaking down. His emotions are unstable in public and explosive in private, intense crying episodes and rage for feeling useless and ineffective in spite of his position. He can’t tolerate not being the ultimate power so he tries to force legitimacy through cheating (implicitly believing that he would not win legitimately), which backfires on him permanently.

He spirals, giving in to the part of himself that is terrified of his own insignificance and desperate to prove importance and agency, even if it means self-destruction. He declares himself ‘the bad guy.’ He makes constant grabs for power, trying desperately to remain in control, resorting to threats of violence against himself and others (the tnt). He obsessively cuts down his most devoted ally, Tommy, trying to compensate for his inferiority and jealousy. He experiences persecutory delusions, which are a lesser known symptom of NPD under stress, breaking with reality and falling into a state where his mind invents information independent of the world around him. While all of this is going on, he keeps lying to his father about how his life is going, trying to maintain the illusion of success.

While most people with NPD wouldn’t necessarily use violence, the extremes of behavior resorted to because of an internal crisis can be a serious issue, outward or inward. NPD has cluster B status for a reason, and it’s still a disorder, which means that it is still associated with dysfunction. People with NPD have something of an infamous cycle where they can create concepts and plans with the new people they meet, time passes and the fantasy decays, and then something comes crashing down that makes them leave or gets them cut out of other peoples lives. They then move on to somewhere new to start the cycle over again, hoping that this time they’ll be able to step into their fantasy for real.

The Rust roleplay never got that far but Wilbur immediately created another leader with imposter syndrome who needed to manipulate people in order to keep his position, and what an interesting thing for a successful streamer who dislikes streaming to do.

I can’t know exactly what role delusion plays in Wilbur’s life, but we do know that he is a hypochondriac. Certain manifestations of hypochondria are a mix of anxiety and delusion, becoming obsessively and unshakably convinced that you’re going to die because of a given illness. Feelings of persecution and impending doom are a feature of NPD, an episodic or baseline anxiety about feeling like something is either approaching or about to break.

How do you know it’s not something else?

On their own these things might not be that convincing, but taken all together as the dynamics of one dude it becomes the simplest answer. While he might have a number of issues as symptoms, most of his behavior can be traced back to the unique way that NPD would be affecting him.

I understand why Borderline and NPD are neighbours in the DSM, because they share a lot of common ground, but they come from different structures and dynamics. BPD splitting shows up abruptly in the moment, while NPD relationship devaluing can be a more subtle ongoing process with more shades of grey.

Fin

Overall this is why I’m convinced that he’s got a foot over the line into NPD territory. If you’re left with the feeling of “but he’s just a guy” when you think of him or see him next—he is, at the end of the day. People with personality disorders are still people, and individuals before all that as well. He won’t be a walking bag of symptoms all the time, but he’s prone to behaving and processing things differently from someone who doesn’t have his personality adaptations. He’s still capable of being reasonable and right and relatively functional, he just has a bunch of other stuff going on as well.

#anon you came to the right place #there's a lot more but these are the easiest bits to talk about #it makes sense to be sceptical because there's a lot of plausible deniability #but NPD doesn't always have to escalate to criminal or abusive extremes to be there #Also I know that the phone video lady may seem odd but she describes the cycle well so just tab out and give it a chance while you scroll #if you want #wlbr 3w4 #featuring some #loreposting #NPDbur tag #gen wlbr tag

34 notes · View notes

tartagilicious · 3 years

Text

what they would do if they caught you crying ❄️ // xiao, kazuha, + diluc (established relationships version <3) cw: injuries

XIAO:

- all of the time, i see people frame xiao as this emotionally clueless person, but personally, i just don’t think that stereotype is true — even with his habit of being alone, he reads people. he has life experience. you might be a little more in trouble if you ask him for something like comfort, but, not understanding.

- of course, his brooding appearance doesn’t really elude to this at all. so, it’s understandable as to why you avoid him when you come back to wangshu inn one day, beaten and bruised beyond even your normal level

- you think it’ll only lead to an awkward conversation, when in reality, xiao can actually be quite helpful! i can see him being a ‘listen and help’ now and ‘ask questions’ later kind of person. it tends to be adorable to see how concerned he can actually get over you.

- tears are another question altogether, too. definitely something that deserves his attention, even if you try convincing him you’re alright.

-----

you let out a resigned pant as you shut the door behind you, at last back in your room at wangshu inn once again. or, at the very least, you hope it’s your room — your vision had gone blurry around halfway your trek up the stairs.

unsteady legs take you to the bathroom. you’re relieved to recognise the throwaway products you bring with you on your travels sitting on the sink. in your haze, you knock the foremost bottles to the floor as you stagger to open the cabinet below it, yet when you reach down for the first aid kid, you find yourself stuck.

something inside you breaks at that moment — whether exhaustion or pain had pushed you, there is a single moment wherein you feel nothing but every imperfection on your body. every cut stings, ever bruise tingles, each scrape and sore bone screams to you at once, calling tears to your eyes.

in the back corner of your mind, you think to imagine yourself: half bent in front of the counter, the arm that isn’t supporting you weak at your side. and, of course, the fat tears that run from your red-rimmed eyes, landing amongst the threads of the mat beneath your feet.

somewhere nearby, you hear hinges creak open. an alarmed whisper reaches you ear as someone helps you to the ground, moving your hair from your eyes. there’s a moment of tangible silence that passes between you as your gazes lock. his expression is unreadable as gentle fingers ghost over the bruise on your temple, each bloody imperfection blanketed under his concerned golden eyes.

the world swims around you, extremely unwelcoming in the way it envelops your body in sludge. regardless, you find yourself saying his name. mumbling it, you grasp his arm.

“xiao.” a pained breath leaves your lips as you shut your eyes. “it hurts."

your lips twist as another sob is torn from your throat.

he shushes you gently, a gloved finger coming up to catch the tears that fall over your cheeks. the words that leave his mouth are slightly stiff, as if being read from a script, but the worry in his voice is incessant. it drips into you from every word he speaks, in each kiss that is placed wantonly on your skin.

in every tear he wipes away, there is a silent promise to catch the next one, and the one after that, until he can finally help your pain to subside. he wants nothing more than to see you drifting off to sleep, each wound covered and treated. and no matter how long that takes, he will always be there to wipe your tears.

-----

KAZUHA:

- he himself is vulnerable to his own emotions, what with being subjected to nature, but also the contents of his past. he’s average in that regard — but, i imagine kazuha as being pretty empathetic.

- he knows how to comfort you and does so effortlessly, even if he may be panicking inside. of course, he hates seeing you cry, it’s only expectable for him to know how to comfort you, even if he may not know exactly what’s wrong

- we all have those days. he understands that. so, when you try to hide your sadness from him he will not ever berate you for it, nor will he take it personally. he will only make sure he’s there to help you through it.

-----

you know you’ve spent too much time away when you hear a knock on the bathroom door — three lone taps at the wood, kazuha’s silent and heartfelt signal to you. for a moment, you think to pretend you aren’t there, but he’d seen you enter. there’s no escaping it.

it may be a futile action, but you stand to see your reflection in the mirror anyway. with your eyes slightly swollen and cheeks still damp, all you can do is wipe any tears away and pray that kazuha chooses not to say anything.

slowly, you creak the door open, popping your head out from the crack.

“are you alright in th—“ he pauses. kazuha’s eyes take in your face with more ardor than usual, laced with a familiar unease that sinks to the pit of your stomach. of course, there’s no fooling him.

he puts a hand on the door, as if to gently manoeuvre his way into the bathroom with you — but instead, it rests next to yours, patient as he asks,

“did something happen?"

kazuha’s voice is a perfect melody, composed of the softest winds and crafted from the anemo archon's most beloved songs. it’s that same voice that reaches out to you in this moment, patiently beckoning for something greater than pain, something more atuned to the romantics he pursues. simply, he seeks to be the reason your sadness ceases.

“no, no—“ you try assuring him, a quick laugh leaving your mouth. but, even you are aware of the way you avoid his eyes. “nothing’s happening, it’s alright."

his gaze narrow slightly.

“come on.” kazuha’s hand slides down to take yours, and together, you back into the bathroom. the weight of his hand in yours is far from unfamiliar, but as he shuts the door once again, you have the sudden urge to pull away.

kazuha is not someone you are uncomfortable with, but the level of intimacy between the two of you has nothing to do with wanting to hide your weakest moments. for the first few minutes, you perceive the situation awkwardly. you don’t know quite where to look or what to say, even as tears begin to fill your eyes again.

“please,” he at last whispers to you, head bent down slightly to reach you at eye level. “tell me the reason for your tears."

your lips morph into a gradual frown before you meet his gaze.

damn him. i couldn't refuse.

you throw your arms around his neck, a quiet whine escaping your mouth as he catches you dutifully. kazuha’s hands are warm on your back as he holds you with care, handling you not as something that is broken, but something he’d do anything to keep together.

-----

DILUC:

- sputtering, awkward, foolish — these words can all be used to describe diluc when he’s crushing on someone. you’re definitely not exempted from that either lolol

- his care for you is obvious in the way his cheeks flush when kaeya teases him about you, or the look he gets in his eye when you’re talking to him about something you love. the ways he loves are also ever-present in the way he comforts you.

- he may not look it, but he treats emotions well. in even your most extreme cases, your sadness is his own

-----

he is the first to notice when you dip into the back of angel’s share, giving your blessings to one of your regular patrons with more speed than usual. while the hour does chime high, you normally work alongside him until the last customer leaves the building. your unfaltering persona can be excused with a bad day. but, to just take off so suddenly, it strikes him in the wrong way.

diluc's distress may very well be visible in the way customers began to limit their interactions with him, but he doesn’t mind. if anything, it gives his mind time to wander to you. at first, he resolves to wait for your return, but that hopeful process is crushed when ten minutes pass and you remain missing.

his eyes wander down the bar, briefly going over each of the faces seated. either tipsy or engrossed in conversation, diluc takes the opportunity to nudge charles — a silent warning as he goes off after you.

for a moment as he walks, he thinks of the concern that weighs heavy in his chest. the same concern had always previously been reserved for things such as his business, or the safety of mondstadt. but to feel the same emotion because of another is a completely different sensation. it’s in his nose, in the way he can’t quite figure out where to place his arms as he moves. it’s stifling in the way that nothing else can be, like breathing in hot air on a summer day.

when he reaches you, he opens the door carefully as not to disturb you. a distinct shyness bubbles in his chest at the thought of catching you doing something you shouldn’t be, but when he opens the door, all he sees is you standing there.

your back is to him, body completely still all for the slight way your shoulders shake.

he calls out your name.

you startle easily, arms suddenly moving up to cover your face. diluc’s stomach drops as he approaches you, stopping next to you in front of the counter you lean into. no words are exchanged for a few moments as you continue to cry despite your hands, tears slipping out from beneath your gentle touch and onto the wood below.

diluc places a heavy hand atop your head.

in reality, there’s just not that much more he will allow himself to do — he doesn’t trust himself to say the right thing, or to be the person you need to pull you back from the darkness. there are too many things hat must be plaguing you in this moment for such a thing to happen, and his chest constricts at the thought. in some way, you must be stumbling on your last legs, painfully aware of every nerve and tiny cut on your body; that much is evident in even just the slight shake of your shoulders.

but unbeknownst to him, every instant he stands by you is time you have to heal. over time, you begin to recognise the feel of the cold air biting at your skin, and the contrast of his warm hand over your head. there is nothing you need him to say, nothing you need him to do, he himself is all you will ever need.

#i feel like my writing is so cheesy lately LMAO #anyways kazuha pls i can cook and clean #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact xiao #gi xiao #genshin impact kazuha #gi kazuha #genshin impact diluc #gi diluc

341 notes · View notes

amoonalls · 2 years

Note

Hello i hope you well❤️ What do you think about moon trine saturn in synastry ( 1 orb) ?

About Moon Trine Saturn in Synastry

Hello!

Moon-Saturn overall does give quite strict energy. But with lighter aspect like this, the effect may not be as heavy as the hard aspect ones (conjunction, square, and opposition). Tho I have to say that 1 orb does give more visible effects

MOON TRINE SATURN SYNASTRY

The moon person will feel restricted by the saturn person since they feel like their emotions can't be expressed easily. This is where the moon person actually feel closed off. Think of this aspect as you being unable to talk some part of your life to your parents, out of fear being scolded, judged, or receive bad treatments

Which is frustating for the native who want boundless openess in relationship where nothing is put on secret and no need to be afraid. Like I have said in this post, Moon-Saturn one tend to be felt harsher by 8th house, 12th house, or Plutonic natives since all time in their life, they have felt being pushed to the corner about their emotions that are seen as being way too extreme. Being in relationship like this of course gonna add some of bitterness and distrust of these natives

From this, we can see again that aspect in synastry really depend on how it's felt by the party in individual level. Maybe for someone who already have many saturnian placements, they don't feel heavy about this since again, openess of emotions sometimes being seen as too much or weak. Hence they can work better with this aspect. But those with heavy water influences? Rarely they will love that. Esp if they are the moon person

On the other hand though, this aspect may be good for someone whose love lesson is to learn how to be emotionally independent and being able to regulate one's emotions despite they are in relationship. Or those who want to shake off the codependency. About love lesson, usually is seen in their venus sign majorly, saturn and north node if one or both form aspect to venus. Some people's love lesson is to be able to find someone who can accept them as a whole without them having to change anything. To be able to trust people fully without guard. But other people's love lesson though is the opposite. They have to maintain individuality even if they are in relationship

Which is why this aspect may feel like a nice lesson for someone whose love lesson is the last

The moon's emotion over chaoticness is handled by practicality of the saturn. Imagine of someone (moon) coming to you crying about mess that they have made in life. You as a saturn person gonna sit in there, listen, and instead of calming the other person for long time, you seek for solutions to solve the mess. Cuz that's like the core of Saturn: finish the issues

On the other hand, the saturn person may dismiss the moon's emotions if they see it as ridiculous or may even be weary of the moon if they see that the moon can't control themselves. Esp again if the saturn person already have many "cold" energy in their chart like they are already saturnian stellium to begin with or having many air placements

For the saturn person who's watery though and the moon person is also watery, a lot of times it can cause the moon's disappoinment as to why the saturn person who they see as sensitive, can't understand the moon's emotions. The moon person already have high expectation of saturn person and when the saturn person fail to fulfill that, the moon person may be wondering if the saturn person is as sensitive as they thought before

This again will be a nice lesson for the moon person who have habit of wearing their heart on the sleeves that cause them fall into many major problems and trust being broken out of their naiveness. Saturn person here will teach them, either through them teaching the moon as to lecturing or by the saturn's own behavior that the moon person need to realize that heart is vulnerable, hence protect the heart at all cost is important

Hope that helps!

#astro observation #astrology #aquarius #aries #capricorn #gemini #leo #libra #sagittarius #virgo #moon trine saturn #moon-saturn #astro observations #astrology observation #astrology observations #astroblr

33 notes · View notes

tumbling-darkling · 3 years

Text

Miraculous Ghosts

Danny and friends visit Paris and come across trouble, as well as the cities local superheroes.

Lately, Hawkmoth has been recycling villains. There are only so many people in Paris and not everyone gets emotionally vulnerable strongly enough or long enough to be akumatized. Those that do, and commonly like Mr. Pidgeon, usually had a certain fixation that was easy to exploit. The thing was, both Marienette and Chat Noir already knew their weakness, the items that would most likely get akumatized, the whole schtick. So the battles were really fast and easy.

A new face always had to be met with caution, the lack of knowledge regarding the person was dangerous and if the pair wasn’t careful, they could end up losing the battle. And their Miraculous.

With the start of summer came tourist season, and tourists could be victims of akumatization. Which seemed to be the case within the first week. 3 villains, all new faces, but the pair had gotten lucky with the similar powers that the heroes had faced before and the three were all defeated in a timely manner.

There was a short week of nothing happening.

And then all hell broke loose.

—————————————————————

Marienette knew the start of the tourist season had begun just based on the filled streets of strange faces, sunglasses, cameras, and the use of foreign languages. This also was noticed based on how busy her parents' shop had become, and how rarely she was managing to escape outside to enjoy some of summer's freedom. The good thing was she was able to brush up on some of her English, since the tourists usually spoke the common American language and the experience was always welcome to help boost her grades in the upcoming year. Even if it was a few months away.

She’d figured out the best way to sneak off during any attacks was to ‘use the bathroom’ or ‘accidently’ make a mess and excuse herself to clean up. It had worked during the first week and she didn’t have to do anything the past week since Hawkmoth seemed to take a break. She finished serving a young pair of Americans, a tall girl with orange hair, and a lanky boy nearly the same height with raven black hair.

She had to admit, some Americans had a certain charm, but the bustle of the kitchen quickly caught her attention as she was back to serving the next person in line.

Just as Chloe waltzed in, basically knocking the american boy over as she strutted to the front of the line, causing people to cast glares in her direction. The boy hissed when he fell, the American girl offering to help him up in English as he shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off as Marienette went to deal with the walking form of pure rich privilege. “Urg, Dupain-Cheng’s dingy little cafe? Of course she works here, it just smells like burnt bread.” She huffed.

Marienette bristled, but put on her customer service smile, noticing the poor Americans victim to Chloe leaving the shop. She was hoping to offer them a replacement after dealing with Chloe but it was a little late now. “Ma’am, unless you are here to pick up an order, you will have to wait in line like everyone else.” She strained.

“Ma’am? I am Chloe Dubois! I don’t need to wait in line like some sort of peasant! Just give me whatever you didn’t make.”

Marienette had to swallow down any returning insults and put down one of their most expensive items, handing it over with a clearly strained smile, “have a nice day.”

Chloe huffed with her baked goods in hand but left as soon as she appeared, allowing Marienette some relief. Very little damage. A little annoyance but nothing worthy of an akuma-.

An explosion was heard from outside, and Marienette groaned internally.

She just had to jinx it.

—————————————————————

Ladybug dove off to the side as the villain shot out a ray of white, plasma-like energy. Adrien, fighting as Chat Noir, and his partner were having a hell of a time with this dude. He spotted the chaos on the news, the villain calling himself ‘Black Hole’ and giving his poor Lady a hard time. When he finally arrived on the scene, he wasn’t able to do much either.

The villain was basically a godly powerhouse, floating in the air, shooting burning rays of heated plasma, or even ice! Ice and plasma! Sometimes he MIXED the two beams to create an even WORSE beam! Whenever either of the heroes got close enough to land a hit, their punches and kicks would go right through him. Then he would DISAPPEAR. REAPPEARING AND LANDING ANOTHER HEAVY BLOW. He would fly around like gravity was non-existent, and these abilities didn’t stop there. Every so often, he would yank out this thermos looking thing and shoot out these wormholes. Or… possibly black holes. Calling them black holes felt wrong though… since they glowed green and swirled before disappearing after a few moments.

The villain's outfit was a change of pace too. It was impossible to figure out his age since he was completely covered in a thick fabric material that reminded him of space suits. Yet looked a lot less bulky than actual space suits, thin yet sturdy metal covered his forearms, and formed a backpack that was attached by a wide metal collar that spread to his collarbone and slightly covered his shoulders, as well as a metal strap that wrapped around right under his chest. A plated, metal belt circled his waist with a clip for the green black hole thermos, and thigh high boots with a similar fabric to his suit covered most of his legs, thick plastic looking platform soles attached at the feet. Black bands wrapped around the ankles of the boots. A helmet covered his entire face, a metal frame covering the bottom half like a muzzle while the top was a tinted glass dome following the shape of his head, the inside of it entirely black except for the eerie glow of a single, left eye. The helmet had a tube on the back of the helmet that connected to his backpack, but neither he or Ladybug could figure out if it was essential or for decoration. His entire colouring was monotone, much bleaker than their previous villains. His suit was black, the boots, forearm cuffs, belt, backpack and collar were all a middle shade of grey, the only flash of colour being the glow of the single toxic green eye amongst the darkness of the helmet.

The dude was disturbing. He didn’t make any sound, in fact he seemed to ABSORB the sound around him. Like they were in space.

Paris was getting destroyed more and more by the second and the two didn’t know what to do. The Lady’s lucky charm turned into a thermos, which she didn’t have a clue how to use in the situation in front of them. Maybe it was a hint? A clue about soup? Or getting the villains thermos?

The problem with the last idea was that neither he or Ladybug could TOUCH this villain. And each of them were getting worse and worse for wear by the second. He could tell Ladybug was getting ready to get some sort of help, but who could make something untouchable… touchable? Chat even tried to use cataclysm on the villain's thermos while Ladybug had distracted him, but he twisted at the last moments and grabbed Chat's hand, draining cataclysm before he tossed him aside like it was nothing.

Another blast of plasma sent the two tumbling away from each other, and then a blast of ice caught Chat off guard. Cold shot up his arm as his muscles convulsed, a scream caught in his throat as the ice trapped his arm in such a tight and sturdy prison. He twisted to try and use his free arm to claw the other out of the ice, a shadow in the corner of his vision causing him to twist and jolt in surprise as the villain stood right in front of him. The glowing green eye was cold as it bore into him, and the villain grew closer and closer, drifting off the ground and absorbing every noise around him, the air around them dropping to freezing temperatures. Chats breath formed in front of him as gasps, panic clear in the quick breaths, fear intensifying as the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and blood roaring through his veins.

The villain's hand shot out and grabbed his free one- the one with his miraculous.

Chat heard Ladybug cry out as the villain gripped onto the ring, a quick glance showing she too was trapped.

That she was next.

Chat tried to keep his fingers curled, but he was battered and weak, and the villain hadn’t even broken a sweat during their fight. Prying open his fingers was easy, the ring vulnerable. This was it. He used cataclysm too soon and now he was powerless. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t save anyone. He was a failure. This was the end of Paris.

They lost.

—————————————————————

Fucking. Vlad.

This entire trip had Danny on edge and it was all because of Vlad.

At first, he thought maybe, for once, Vlad wasn’t being a piece of shit when offering the family a fully paid trip to France for two weeks. He was suspicious. He probably just wanted the family out of town to do some shady shit. But a two week trip to France wasn’t the WORST thing a man could do. Especially in comparison to kidnapping and cloning.

But then his parents got sick. A common flu. Right before the trip. And they wanted Jazz and him to experience Paris. Then Vlad offered to be a chaperone.

It was all a play to get Danny alone for two weeks and try and manipulate him.

He did manage to get Tucker and Sam to tag along, something about friends being his family and the two unused tickets his parents left behind. But Vlad knew how to separate the group. How to corner Danny at the worst moments and whisper annoying remarks in his ear as he tried to get away.

He survived a week. He only had one more week to go. Tucker and Sam were off checking out some places for lunch while Jazz and Danny went to pick up sweets for everyone to share after their meal.

Vlad was off doing who knew what so Danny had put him to the back of his mind.

The cafe they found was… well it smelled incredible. There were so many baked goods on display and the air was filled with the warm and sweet smell of the goodies. He let Jazz do most of the talking, she wanted to practice her French and Danny had recently discovered that being dubbed the ghost king meant that now he had a natural grasp on all verbal languages, including the dead ones. This meant his speech in French was almost flawless, and his understanding was like he was listening to someone speak English. He couldn’t read other languages though, just speak them. He was told though by a few locals he had an odd accent. It wasn’t an american one, just… odd.

So Jazz ordered the treats and the pair was headed out to meet Danny’s friends.

Then some blonde girl with way too much make-up basically knocked him to the ground, not even sending him a glance that indicated she knew what she did. It was annoying, but he dealt with bullies on a daily basis back at Amity Park. Well… used to. But he knew better than to waste any thought on some jerk like her. He sadly looked at the ruined cat paw shaped cookies, the icing ruined and the cookies crushed under his weight when he fell.

Standing up with the help of Jazz, they left the shop as Danny insisted on finding somewhere to wash off the icing stuck to his shirt. He liked this shirt too… he hoped it wouldn’t stain too badly. It was better than ectoplasm at least, that stuff needed to be burned out, there was no such thing as washing out ectoplasm.

Jazz asked to help, but Danny brushed her off, telling her he could easily clean himself off by himself.

And then Vlad chose that moment to corner him.

—————————————————————

“Hello Daniel.”

Danny splashed water wildly as he spun around to glare at the older Halfa, hissing out an ‘Ancients!’ in surprise. “What the hell, Vlad?” He spat, “sneaking up on a kid in the bathroom? I should just call the police and tell them about all that stalking you like to do.”

“Aren’t you tired of this childish game?” He hummed.

“Not really, seeing as I’m a child and I love games,” Danny sneered.

“I’m older, more experienced, and stronger. I am also patient, little badger. And it’s easy to wear you down. By the end of this trip, you are going to be begging to be my-.”

“Son? Pet? Little slave that does everything you ask? Sorry, Vladdy, but I ain’t the type to listen to crazy fruit loops. How about you go enjoy the company of your French rich friends like that Agreste dude instead of stalking me and trying to get with my mom and kill my dad. Might do you some good to make more friends than just your cat.”

“Oh Daniel, you throw your petty insults but I know ways to break you even further. You know, a lot of accidents happen in Paris. Terrible things.”

Danny felt his eyes flash as he spun on his heel, “listen to me, if you even consider-!”

“Not to mention your brand new ghostly responsibilities as… the ghost king? Imagine that. A child as the king. You don’t even know everything about ghosts.”

“Neither do you!” Danny spat.

“Oh but I know so much more. And I could easily teach you-.”

“Just shut up!”

“When you mess up, when the ghost zone begins to fall apart, you will wish you took my offer, but I may not be as forgiving when that happens.”

“I said shut up!”

“And we both know the moment the ghost zone falls apart, so will this world. All because a boy became king and didn’t take help he was so graciously offered.”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Something inside him shifted, and Danny suddenly felt his mind cloud, a deep voice echoed his mind.

“A cruel man harassing a young teen that wants nothing to do with him. A shame when someone can’t take a hint.

Black Hole. I am Hawkmoth. I can give you the power to show this old man that he never should consider looking in your direction ever again.

All I ask is for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. Do this for me, and Vlad Masters will never be an issue for you ever again.”

Danny’s clouded mind and building rage smirked at the offer, his voice echoing as he glanced up at Vlad who was giving him a confused look. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Darkness engulfed him and then his memory began to fail him.

—————————————————————

A boomerang slammed into Black Hole’s head, causing it to jerk to the side and a small crack formed on the glass that was hit. The metal boomerang dropped to the ground and Black Hole slowly looked down at it as a robotic voice cried out from it, “ghost detected!” And then a recorded voice spouted out, “take that, spook!”

Black Hole’s head slightly tilted at the noise it made, a hand subconsciously rubbing the crack it left behind. Then he twisted his gaze back to Chat Noir, going back to taking the hero’s miraculous.

Then a shout came from behind Black Hole and Chat caught the eyes of a teenage girl yelling and holding a bat over her head. Black Hole twisted, his body turning that transparent look whenever Chat or Ladybug had tried to hit him before, and Chat knew that it was useless. “No! Stop! Get out of here-!” He screamed at the citizen, but stopped when the bat connected with the villain's head and sent him flying into a wall.

Chat was at a loss for words for once in his life, watching the villain slowly pry himself from the wall from being hit by a baseball bat when he and Lady couldn’t land a single hit. He looked back at the citizen and shrieked as she raised the bat above her head and swung down at him, flinching and squeezing his eyes shut. She hit something, causing it to shatter and then- his hand was free!

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand in awe and then back at the girl, “who the heck are you?”

She huffed, dropping the bat casually on her shoulder, “Sam Manson. Friend of the idiot that didn’t do his research before taking a trip here. I’m surprised this didn’t happen earlier.”

Chat blinked, “you- you know that’s your friend? And knew this would happen?”

Sam shrugged, “the booo-merang is never wrong. And yeah, my friend there is not exactly the most emotionally stable person on the planet. Sorry it took us a while to get here. You guys really do move fast.”

Chat just opened and closed his mouth a few times, then yelled as she suddenly swung the bat again and smacked the villain in the gut as he got close during their exchange, knocking him sideways but not down like the first time. Black Hole turned again, making a snarling sound before he was blasted by some sort of green ray and sent flying sideways, rolling along the pavement before smashing into a car. Another teen jogged over with Ladybug behind him, dropping his hands to his knees as he wheezed, “I have ran… way too much for this to be considered a vacation.”

“M’Lady-, what is going on?” Chat asked.

“This is Tucker, and his friend Sam, and they know how to help,” Ladybug quickly explained, glancing back at Black Hole. “We need to draw his attention and get that thermos off of him, then Sam and Tucker can use this,” she held up the thermos from her lucky charm, “and we can get his akuma.”

“Akuma is in the thermos, knock it off,” Chat summarized. He heard his miraculous beeping, a sign he was close to his limit.

“Let’s end this fast.”

—————————————————————

Ladybug held the booo-merang in one hand as the two teens and Chat drew Black Hole’s attention, the teens equipped with weapons that seemed to get past some of Black Holes abilities.

She narrowed her gaze, waiting for the perfect moment, then threw the weapon, watching it arch in the air then knock the thermos off of the villain's waist. The thermos clattered to the ground and drew his attention, he quickly twisted and dove to try and retrieve it, which was when a bright beam erupted from the polka dot thermos Ladybug had given the teens. The beam caught the villain's legs and he was tugged back, his form pulling towards it like taffy as he twisted and a horrid scream of anger burst from him. He tried to escape it, flailing and reaching for anything to hang on to, but in a matter of seconds he was pulled into the canister and Sam slammed the lid shut. The screaming stopped and Ladybug made her way over to Black Hole’s thermos, stomping on it and crushing it, releasing the Akuma hidden inside. With a flick of her wrist her lucky charm turned back into its original form, dumping Black Hole onto the street, then the butterfly was caught and purified, and another click of her miraculous, she let the little bug flutter away harmlessly. With a shout, ‘Miraculous Ladybug!’, everything around them was engulfed in black and red as the damages were undone around them.

At last, the villain's form was released of Hawkmoth's influence and it left a lanky teen laying on the street. He slowly sat up with a groan and a hand to his head and she then realized it was the same teen as from the shop. So once again, this was Chloe’s fault. She turned her attention to the two teens that helped her, noticing Chat let out a hasty farewell and thanks and disappeared around a corner. “Thank you, both of you. Without your help… well, without your help we may have lost that battle. But how in the world did you do that?”

“What the fuck just happened?” The teen groaned, “I feel like the booo-merang smacked me in the head like… fifty times.”

“That’s because I may have smacked you a few times with the fenton creep stick,” Sam shrugged as she helped her friend up who gave her wide eyes in return.

“You fucking what?”

Tucker took a step forward to answer Ladybug’s question, “let's just say back in our town, we have very specific supervillains that have abilities that make it hard for regular attacks to land. So we have specialized gear. Sam and I did a bit of research before heading here and figured if any of us got Akumatized, we may reflect some of those traits.”

“I… see…” Ladybug hummed, “and where did you say you were all from?” The three cast a few glances between each other, but before any of them could answer, her miraculous beeped angrily as she quickly realized she was out of time. “Thank you again for your help, if we could meet again to exchange some of that tech to make sure this never happens again-,” she quickly tried to set up a meet up before Sam held up a hand.

“This won’t happen again. A lot of what happened here is very unique to Amity, so once we finish our vacation, you won’t see this kind of thing ever again.”

Ladybug only had more questions but the angry beeping only forced her to nod and bid a quick farewell before getting out of sight to let Tiki take a rest. Marienette held out a few macaroons for Tiki as her thoughts swirled in her head. The questions about the odd American trio and how they knew how to deal with a villain as unique as Black Hole.

She may be able to corner them later. They did say they had to ‘finish their vacation.’

And in the meantime, it was time to do some research on this place called ‘Amity’.

—————————————————————

Danny didn’t remember a lot of what happened while he was the villain, Black Hole. It was like a dream, he kinda remembered the feeling, vague details, but nothing specific.

What he wished he remembered was whatever he did to Vlad. He must have done something because his memories cut out right after Vlad harassed him in the bathroom and after the event, the froot loop avoided him during the entire trip. Even refused to make eye contact!

What he would give just for a few seconds of that memory! Or for someone to have recorded it!

For now though he got to reap the rewards, flashing his eyes green when Vlad would glance over and causing the man to flinch. Oh man, he was going to abuse this newfound intimidation ability till the bitter end.

163 notes · View notes

zevexsii · 3 years

Text

norton campbell sfw + nsfw hcs (gn s/o)

holy shit i love norton campbell

cut for length!

norton’s a very complicated guy. he’s seen some shit, done some shit, and quite frankly hates most of the world around him. not because he actually thinks it’s bad- he just pushes away everything and everyone he cares about as a defense mechanism.

he wouldn’t necessarily realize that he was developing feelings for his s/o right off the bat- he’d get closer and closer to them without actually thinking about the butterflies that your smile gave him or the protective urges that enveloped most of his critical thinking skills during matches.

it really depends on how easily you open up to him. especially if you’re emotionally available early on. i doubt he would entirely open up to you about the mining incident, or even about the root of any of his problems, but if you were there on norton’s bad days to calm him down or let him vent, he’ll fall head over heels for you even quicker.

not particularly talkative. norton doesn’t really know how to keep a conversation going and deflect too-personal questions at the same time, so most days he just enjoys sitting with you.

right before The ConfessionTM, norton begins to isolate himself more than usual. he does his best to avoid you at mealtimes, will ditch matches that you’re both playing in, paying no mind to the consequences. it’s hard for him to even look at you without losing his composure- either spacing out and making heart eyes in your direction or having graphic thoughts of your death at his hands. it would be accidental, of course. he’d lash out and hurt you; make a mistake in a match and leave you bloody.

if you seek him out, it might make it worse; he’ll probably snap at you, but he can’t hold up his apathetic front for long. he breaks down as you turn to leave, grabbing for your hand or your wrist. he hangs his head and asks you not to go in a low, hoarse whisper. he’s sniffling.

this is the first time norton would seek out physical comfort from you. his movements are shaky and apprehensive as he tugs you closer to him- depending on where you managed to corner him, norton’ll ask to sit down and be held by way of burying his face in the crook of your neck. he’s terrified you’re going to pull away the entire time.

indulge him. gently card your fingers through his messy, dark hair or rub gentle circles onto his back and he might cry. poor guy’s repressed to hell and back.

norton’s feelings for you are quite obvious at this point, but he needs to make sure to let you know, just in case. when he says that he’s in love with you, he’s breathless and the words are harried. if he’s able to look at you at all, his brown eyes are anxious and searching- begging for an answer, even if it’s one that would destroy him completely. he doesn’t really expect you to reciprocate his affections- he’s high maintenance at the very least in his own eyes.

when you tell him that you love him too, norton is awestruck. he has to verify that he heard you correctly- tell him again and he lets out a watery chuckle proceeded by a shit-eating grin.

hold onto him a little while longer. he needs it.

now that norton’s confessed and you’re officially together, his behavior towards you in public doesn’t change too much- in lobbies before matches or mealtimes he lingers by you, keeping up a low conversation about mundane things. he’s unsurprisingly uninterested in pda, except for special occasions.

in private, there are a lot of casual, domestic touches. norton’s inclined to come up and wrap his arms around you from behind, or rest a hand on the small of your back as you’re working away at a task.

adores forehead/cheek kisses. the simple things make him soft beyond belief. deep, passionate kisses are usually reserved for when things are getting hot n’ heavy, plus they trigger norton’s claustrophobia very easily. norton normally despises any sort of attention drawn to his scars- they’re a massive insecurity of his, not to mention the horrible reminder of his past that they bring up, but if you give him small smooches on his upper cheek, or the border between scarred flesh and his normal tan, he’ll melt.

can cook surprisingly well! norton’s been alone for the great majority of his life- not to mention he lived with a bunch of bachelors, so he knows the basics. however, anything you make will be devoured within seconds. really enjoys sweets!! uses excess frosting on your lips or cheek as an excuse to kiss you <33

is a pretty big eater!! norton’s a beefy guy and he tells you that he’s gotta keep himself strong in order to protect you <3 he’s also got a phat ass

norton’s a bit clueless when it comes to asking for cuddles; he’ll just sort of drape himself over you or mumble about being tired, hoping you’ll take the hint. on bad days, he doesn’t even want to get out of bed. everything’s just too much, he hopes you’ll understand.

let norton rest his head in your lap or hide his face in your shoulder. sometimes it’s humiliating for him to let you see him like this- hold him close and gently play with his hair or intertwine your fingers in his. actions like that help ground norton.

coo soft things in his ears. tell him you love him, that it isn’t his fault. that you’ll stay with him no matter what. these reassurances in particular help combat his overwhelming abandonment issues.

on regular days, norton’s favorite cuddle positions are probably those that involve you laying your head on his broad chest, or him holding you from behind.

very outdoorsy! go on walks with him and he’ll point out interesting rocks and the two of you will pocket geodes to take home and crack open. offer norton small things that you found on the way home, or gems that you pilfered from the golden cave map. it may not seem like a lot, but realizing that you care enough about norton to remember the small things that he enjoys makes him feel endlessly loved.

i can’t stress enough how much norton appreciates domesticity. dude’s had a rough life, at this point he just wants to settle down in a stable place with someone who loves him, hopefully with a few kids, if his s/o is up for that!

nsfw

norton is practically a connoisseur of intense, rough sex. as mentioned above, he’s got a lot of repressed shit to deal with and most of his more ‘vulnerable’ emotions are turned into anger. unhealthy coping mechanisms go brrrrr.

needless to say, it’s best to use a safeword with norton.

that’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy slow, passionate stuff- most days he’s perfectly happy to bury himself inside you however you need.

during slow, soft sex, norton prefers to be ridden. it allows him to sit back and revel in the pleasure of being fucked by his lovely, lovely s/o.

his fear of abandonment also comes into play during sex. he’ll get you begging for his cock, whimpering uncontrollably about how badly you need him inside of you. deep down, norton yearns to be needed by someone.

not the most vocal partner, but lets loose a plethora of gasps and grunts once he’s got your tight hole stretched around him- most dirty talk consists of half-formed, growled curses that go straight south.

always preps you with oral. he doesn’t care how ready you are for his dick, he needs to finish you off with his mouth first. norton’s definition of finishing you off consists of bruising and biting all over your hips and upper thighs before moving on to rub a calloused finger over your clit or give light strokes to your cock, paying special attention to the vein running along the underside. by the time he’s done, you’ll have cum at least twice and that’s if norton’s rushing it.

unsurprisingly addicted to marking you. nothing riles norton up more than watching you interact with the other survivors while they frantically try to ignore the bruises and hickeys that have crawled up your neck and right under your jawline. if said survivor glances to norton afterward, he’ll toss a sleazy smirk in their direction. you’re fucking him and everyone knows it.

not really a fan of missionary. norton’s partial to fucking you from behind and leaving small scratches and bruises from how tightly his massive hands grabbed your hips.

he’s a thigh and an ass guy. ‘nuff said. he doesn’t have anything against boobs, though!

won’t introduce choking or restraining you- norton wants to revel in every little twitch and movement you make while he shoves himself between your thighs. of course if you ask for either of those things, norton will indulge you. choking would probably do well with his size kink.

definitely has a breeding kink. all he wants is to completely fill you up with his seed- he’ll go as many rounds as he can, desperate to stuff you full of his cum. he’ll degrade you while he does this- calling you his little whore, going on and on about how desperate you are for his cum.

a fair bit into overstimulation. it feeds norton’s sorely battered pride that no one else can see you like this- flushed and nearly in tears, letting out strangled mewls of pleasure while his cock slams against your prostate/g-spot. don’t even think about hiding your face in a pillow, either. the noises and expressions you make are part of how norton is assured he’s doing a good job- he also thinks you’re damn beautiful, all unraveled for him like this.

as stated above, norton prefers to cum inside of you, but if you’re not up for that he’ll pull out and cum on your ass or in his hand.

pulls your hair quite a bit- he’s pulled strands out in the past and apologizes like hell afterward. it’s not his intention to hurt you.

aftercare!! soft. norton’ll offer to wash your hair and wash your back- his hands are strong and more often than not, he ends up massaging your shoulders. wash his hair and he’s in heaven. lots of mildly soapy forehead kisses and whispered “i love you”s as the two of you crawl into bed, your head tucked under norton’s.

#norton campbell x reader #norton campbell idv #prospector #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader headcanons #prospector x reader #idv prospector #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader headcanons #identity v x reader headcanons #idv smut #identity v smut #norton campbell smut #i'm a bit unsatisfied with this but i can always post more #identity v prospector #norton simp hours

853 notes · View notes

gvssdee · 3 years

Text

we can't. | vera farmiga x fem!reader

The town didn't look any different the last time she'd seen it, it was still dark yet somehow full of colors at the same time. A mystery she'd never quite solved, not that she ever had the time to.

Perhaps she could have. [Y/N] thought. Had it not happened. Or rather, had she not happened.

It's been atleast half a year, and most of the people she knew in the town had either fled to another country or are unable to greet her with all their family stuff. Still, she could've appreciated if not a grand welcome— a welcome.

Nonetheless, [Y/N] made her way to the familiar right corner, the house furthest away from others. It was getting prepared to be sold, considering no one— [Y/N]— doesn't live there anymore. She'd left a few important things, though. Hence the comeback.

The repairmen were not present today, and the house couldn't be anymore lonely than it already is. Bummer, [Y/N] thought, she had brought snacks incase there was any present. Huffing a frustrated sigh, [Y/N] placed the bag of food on top of a random furniture covered with a sheet. It was hers back then, it came with the house when she bought it, and it stays with the house regardless she left or not.

30 minutes, [Y/N] had promised herself, 30 minutes and she was going to leave forever. Which was incredibly terrifying. 6 months had passed and yet it still feels as though maybe she left her heart with the house. She thought maybe coming back would fix the hole of unsatisfaction, she thought maybe seeing the house empty and getting repaired for another person to live in would leave her satisfied with her choice.

It didn't.

"And here I thought you were never coming back."

[Y/N] jumped a few feet from the front door, refusing to look back at the person who owned that voice. That familiar, soothing voice. Honestly, it never once not amuse her just how Vera Farmiga's voice calmed her during those times.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." She added, stepping away for a moment before she stopped in her tracks— probably to observe [Y/N] just like how she always do back then. "You look good."

With her eyes still pinned to the closed door of her old house, [Y/N] replied with, "Thanks. Can't say the same to you."

"'Course not when you refuse to look at me."

[Y/N] could feel Vera grin. She suppressed hers, however, not wanting to give Vera any reaction that might signify they were back to being fine— they weren't. And maybe will never be.

"[Y/N]."

"Why are you here?"

"Heard you came by in the town so I... wanted to see you for myself." Vera answers sincerely it almost made [Y/N] lunge at her and kiss her like how she used to. Used to. Times were different now. And the pain Vera caused her still lingered.

"Well you see me now." [Y/N] stated, trying to keep her voice steady and firm. She'd been imagining different ways she'd meet Vera again, and imagined more scenarios enough to keep her from showing any unwanted emotions.

Such as the affection [Y/N] still feels for her.

She sighed at the thought, and came to a conclusion of how coward she must've looked like refusing to see Vera again. But who could blame her? Vera Farmiga had the chance to choose, and she chose him. Despite all their memories in the house, despite all those affectionate looks and touches, all those unspoken words— Vera Farmiga chose Patrick Wilson. Not [Y/N]. And she just needs to remind herself of that as she turned to see the very woman responsible of the pain she's still feeling.

Vera looked... vulnerable and exhausted. She looked thinner, tiny even, and it's only been 6 months. What the hell happened? [Y/N] tried not to react, suppressing any remorse she felt as she looked at Vera.

"Do you want me to go?" Vera asks, voice barely steady. "I just... I never got to apologize to you, is all. And I really just wanted to see you."

"Me too."

It came out of [Y/N]'s mouth too fast before she could even think of it. There's no use crying over a spilled milk, but she mentally slapped herself anyway.

Vera didn't look amused at the response, though, and instead, lets out a pained sigh. "I wanted you. Since from the start. And when you left— I realized I didn't just want you. I needed you. But [Y/N]..." Vera took a step closer, and closer, until [Y/N] could barely think of anything but Vera's warm breath and her awestrucking eyes. Those damned, too good to be true, eyes. "We just can't." It was a whisper, a soft voice pleading for [Y/N] to stay even if her words contradict such pleading.

We just can't.

"I know. I know, Vera." [Y/N] says, her voice breaking each second as she brought her hands up to Vera's face, cupping her cheeks, the anger vanishing as she does. "I missed you."

"I do too. So fucking much I can't help it. I want to run away with you, grow old with you, and perhaps die with you. I want to do that, [Y/N]. I want to do that so bad—"

"But we can't."

"We can't."

Their lovestory had been beautiful. From their clumsy beginning, to their painful ending. And so for the last time, they spent the afternoon together, eating the snacks initially for the missing repairmen and talked.

[Y/N] wasn't afraid of selling the house, no. She was afraid of losing the memories she's made together... with Vera. And as the afternoon passed by, and the moon came lightening up the dark sky; [Y/N] was even more afraid.

"I'm sorry, [Y/N]." Vera started, her eyes fixated on her feet currently swinging to and fro. The couple were on the balcony, the view of the town visible enough for them to admire. "I should've chosen you."

"Yeahh," [Y/N] pursues her lips. "I'm so mad how easily I can forgive you. You do know that I came back into the town telling myself no way am I ever going to do so?"

Vera lets out a hearty chuckle; it was when she scrunches her nose and closes her eyes too adorably for [Y/N] to even comprehend.

It died out eventually, and her face shifted to a sad expression, "I'm so selfish for that. I knew how hurt you would be, yet I still chose him. But deep down, I would always choose you. Even until now. I was just so afraid that time."

"And now?"

"I still am."

[Y/N] wanted to be mad at her, to confront her just how coward she is. But seeing Vera like this; in pain, unable to make a choice she wants to choose, [Y/N] can't be. Vera looked emotionally and physically hurt, just the same as [Y/N] and if not, even more.

"I love you so much, you know?" Vera confesses, biting her bottom lip. "I love you so much I almost can't bear the pain to see you leave again."

Her lover stared thoughtfully at her, and smiled reassuringly. "I will never not love you too, Vera."

[Y/N] sealed their goodbyes with a kiss, and Vera held her lover once more in her arms knowing this was going to be the last time she'll ever see [Y/N]. And that thought just breaks every inch of her. But it had to be done.

In this kind of world, love can't win. Not even the greatest love of all time. [Y/N] stayed for awhile, letting Vera be the one to walk away. Letting herself feel the same way Vera did when she was the one to do so. And as Vera disappeared from her sight, [Y/N] set her mind in winning their love in their second life. If there ever was.

#fanfic #imagine your otp #prompts #reader insert #writing #vera farmiga #aloe vera #lmaooo #lorraine warren #lorraine warren x reader #vera farmiga x reader #hurt/comfort #hurt comfort #hurt no comfort #angst #fluff #lesbian #sapphic #wlw

138 notes · View notes

skiesofthesketchy · 4 years

Text

Stood Up {1}

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You have a date with your friend that you’ve liked forever, but he never shows up.

Note: Heyyyyy Please read the warnings before proceeding. This is one of the darker things I’ve ever written, and it might trigger some people so please be careful. I’m usually a fluff writer but I’ve been feeling... ya know, down lately so this is what I made. I’m working on the second part to Unsend still, but haven’t been in the mood lately so sorry it’s taking so long!

Let me know what you think! :)

Word Count: 6.5k

Stood Up: {Part 2} / { Part 3}

WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

10:00 PM

I pulled my sweater tighter against me when I felt a small burst of wind, the chill making goosebumps surface on my bare legs. I looked left and right down the black street, but nobody was around. It was quiet, almost silent besides dried leaves scraping against the pavement, and the only light was the orange glow from the street lamps and the red neon sign above my head casting onto the empty street. It was a nice night, even with the cool breeze, but I could feel my nerves kicking in.

I tried to remain optimistic though. Maybe he’s just running late... I pulled out my phone again to see if JJ had texted me back, but he hadn’t.

On my way! See in you 20 :)

I sighed, looking at the last text I sent him. I only sent it hoping to remind him that we had plans tonight in case he forgot. He always forgets.

‘He’s just a forgetful person,’ I tell myself for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s usually that phrase that makes me feel better, or ‘He’s got a lot going on.’ I never make it a big deal when he misses our plans, even though it feels like a small piece of my heart breaks off and dies every time it happens.

‘This time is different though,’ I told myself. It was just yesterday that I mentioned the movie theater was showing a bunch of Quentin Tarantino films this week. I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, just a fun thing me and my friends could all do together, but I was truly very excited about it and really hoped they’d be down.

“Are they showing Kill Bill?” JJ asked with a smile. The other pogues didn’t seem interested but I was happy that JJ was.

“Yeah. Tomorrow night actually,” I shrugged.

“We should go.”

I smiled softly at him. “Sure, if you want to.”

He chuckled, blue eyes lighting up as he poked my cheek. I knew he could see right past my nonchalant demeanor. “That’s your favorite movie ever. Of course I want to go see it with you! My treat.”

I ignored the fluttering in my belly, but couldn’t hide my smile. He remembers my favorite movie and wants to watch it with me. “You don’t have to pay for me,” I shook my head with a laugh. I didn’t expect him to, but the fact that he offered made my chest warm. JJ doesn’t have much money to begin with, and with what he does have, he usually spends on weed and beer, necessities in his daily life.

“No, no,” he tsked, bringing me into a hug. My giddy grin was thankfully hidden in his chest. Being this close to him always makes me feel lighter than air, warmer than the summer breeze. “You’re my girl. Let me take you out,” he finished, chuckling into my hair.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, like I always did when he called me his girl. I nodded in agreement once I pulled away from his embrace. “Ten o’clock tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll be there,” he replied, saluting me with a wink before turning to join the conversation the rest of the pogues were engaged in, leaving me to internally gush about going on a date with the boy I’ve liked since forever.

Maybe it wasn’t a date, or maybe it was. I didn’t really know, but I didn’t care as long as I got to spend time with JJ. It really did feel like this time was different. My thoughts swirled, wondering if he likes me back. Wanting to take me to a movie makes it sound like he likes me, right?

Date or not, I wanted to look nice, so I spent more time getting ready than I normally did. I experimented with some light makeup, trying to make it subtle but still pretty. I left my hair down after making it look somewhat decent, something I hardly ever do because my go-to is always putting it up. I even picked out a dress to wear but made sure to choose one that JJ had seen me in plenty of times. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but still hoped he would notice my appearance and think I looked pretty.

10:10 PM

The movie started ten minutes ago, and still no word from JJ. I glanced down at my shoes and hugged myself tighter. ‘Maybe he did forget... again.’ I didn’t want to believe it, giving JJ the benefit of the doubt like I always did. But he still wasn’t here.

Yo are you coming? I sent another text.

I was really excited about tonight, not just because I’d be seeing one of my favorite movies in the theaters as if it was premiering for the first time. Now I just feel... heavy. Like I’m carrying the weight of the reality I should’ve realized a long time ago. If I was important to him, he would remember our plans.

My frown deepened. That’s what it comes down to, right? If he actually cared about me, he would be here, or at least tell me he’s not going to make it. Constantly forgetting our plans is a huge sign that he doesn’t like me the way I like him, that I don’t matter to him enough to follow through. It’s a sign I’ve been ignoring even though it’s been there the whole time, blaringly obvious and all too painful.

No. JJ does care about me, even if it’s just as a friend. He’ll be here. He told me he would be.

10:20 PM

Spinning around and looking at the movie theater entrance, I thought about going inside and watching the movie anyway, but I suddenly wasn’t up for it anymore. This sick feeling in my gut was all I could think about.

Of course JJ doesn’t like me. Why did I get my hopes up so high when all he’s ever done is not show up? It hurts. It feels like something crawled up inside of me and slashed its claws at my dumb, naive heart. Its terrifying and hoarse voice whispering in my ear, “What did you expect?”

Perhaps this is my fault; letting myself fall for someone that doesn’t feel the same. JJ Maybank: one of my closest friends, the biggest player on the whole damn island, and the most emotionally unavailable boy I’ve ever met. Of course I had to fall for him. I’m a fucking idiot.

I slumped my shoulders, feeling defeated and tired. It’s like I was tossed to the side without a second thought, much like the trash lining the curb. My throat tightened with the emotions threatening to pour out in sobs, but I held them back. It’s not his fault. I’m the one with these stupid feelings, waiting around for him to feel them too, but he doesn’t.

10:30 PM

I checked my phone one last time, still nothing. With a deep sigh, I started walking towards the direction of my house. I focused my attention on my sandals hitting the sidewalk, each step feeling like another crack in my heart.

‘You’re fine,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t cry. You’re fine.’

But I wasn’t, and I felt the stubborn tears brim my eyes. I turned the corner and this street was much darker, the street lights dim and far apart. The sound of someone else’s footsteps pricked my ears, and I kept my head down to hide my frustration and the sadness running down my cheeks. I wanted the footsteps to belong to JJ, finally showing up but just a bit late. I knew better though, and didn’t bother looking up.

“Well, look who it is. A little pougie.” I halted in my tracks, my eyes flicking up to find his cold ones, and I shot him a glare. As if I needed something to make my night even worse. Fucking Rafe.

“Not even gonna say hello?” he asked. I kept my posture stiff and my stare hard, trying to act tough even though I was most certainly in a vulnerable state.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” Rafe was predictable in the way that he lived to torture me and my friends. That’s the only reason he’d ever be caught dead in The Cut.

He stopped right in front of me, his tall frame dark and intimidating. Even under the blanket of night I could see his eyes were bloodshot and a sickening smirk lined his lips. He ignored my question as his eyes dragged up and down my body, making my stomach twist and skin crawl. “Where’s the rest of your dirty crew?” he spat.

“You’re lucky they’re not here.” I kept my tone steady, but I could feel my hands start to shake and an uneasy feeling settled inside of me. I need to get out of here.

With hands stuffed in his pockets, he leisurely walked around me, eyes still glued to my bare legs. “You look pretty,” he whispered. “Were you on a date?”

“No.”

“Then why are you all dressed up, darlin’?” His gaze met mine again when I spun around to face him, and with the way his features slightly softened, he probably noticed that I had been crying. “Oh. You were stood up, huh?”

Is it that obvious? “No,” I snapped.

He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer to me, and I took a step back. “His loss.” Then he just stood there staring at me while I was lost in a sea of confusion. Is he trying to be nice?

“Well. It’s been not so nice talking to you. I’m going home now.” I turned around to escape this unpleasant conversation, but I was spun back around with the man’s grip on my arm.

“Don’t leave. I’m not done talking to you.” I felt fear creep under my skin as I looked up at his face again, hardly able to make out anything but his eyes. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Leave me alone.” I tried to snatch my arm out of his grasp, but he pushed me into the brick wall of the building we were in front of.

The sudden movement caused me to stumble and twist my ankle. “Ow! Rafe, what the fuck!” I felt the pain shoot up my leg, but couldn’t focus on it for long. Rafe’s menacing features had panic surging through my veins as he came closer.

I pressed my back into the hard wall trying to separate myself as much as I could from the man towering over me. “You’ve had a rough night. Let me make you feel better,” he said. He stepped into me, his chest pressing against mine as he looked down at me.

“Get the fuck off of me,” I choked out.

His wicked laugh fanned over my face and I felt angry tears fall. “Come on, little poguie. At least I actually want you.” His words seemed to drive a knife into my chest. JJ doesn’t want me, but I don’t have time to think about that right now. I can hardly think of anything right now.

My palms rose to his chest, but he caught my wrists in his hands, keeping me from shoving him off. He laughed again, and the realization that Rafe isn’t sober washed over me like a tidal wave. What have I gotten myself into? “Let me go!” I screamed.

He shut me up by forcing his mouth onto mine. I screamed against his lips but he pressed into me harder. I started thrashing my body under the weight of his, but his hold became tighter. He brutally clutched both of my wrists into one of his large hands while the other came up to slap over my mouth, cutting off my cries.

“Just let it happen, darlin. Enjoy it,” he whispered into my ear. Hot tears ran down my face as I felt his lips on my neck. He sucked harshly on my skin as I squirmed, trying desperately to escape, but I couldn’t. Even if I couldn’t, I would die trying.

His mouth attacked my throat while I struggled between him and the wall. With the adrenaline pumping through my body, I used all of my strength and pushed him as hard as I possibly could. With the few inches I created between us, I picked my leg up and stomped my heel into his foot.

I prepared to bolt with the time I had bought myself, but a second later he was landing a ruthless slap to my face. I registered the burning pain as he pinned me to the wall with his body again. “Oh, now you’re really gonna get it, pogue.” His sudden anger shook me to my core, his sick laugh echoing in my ears like a fire alarm.

His hand landed on my thigh and dragged along my skin, pushing my dress up higher and higher as I felt the screams get caught in my throat. I dug my nails into his arms but he wasn’t bothered. He kissed me again and I took his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard until I tasted blood.

He yanked his head back, face twisting in rage. Even with his violating hands still searing into my skin, I brought my knee up into his crotch, and he yelled in pain. I didn’t waste any time and took off running, but I was yanked back by my hair.

“Fucking bitch!” My head throbbed as I crashed to the ground, feeling my elbows scrape the pavement. I was seeing stars as I felt Rafe’s weight drop on top of me, his form straddling me. I threw my fists wildly into his stomach and chest, desperately trying anything to escape him, but I knew my efforts were becoming futile. His ring-clad fist connected with my cheekbone and a sob crawled its way up my throat.

“Stop!” I screamed. His hand suddenly grabbed my throat, cutting off my cries once again. I clawed at his skin to get him to stop, but he only increased the pressure on my esophagus until I couldn’t breathe, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My world was spinning and my terror didn’t let me register the pain anymore, only the horrendous realization of what’s happening to me taking over my thoughts.

After what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds, I felt his breath fan over my face from where he hovered over me. “You’re not fucking worth the trouble.” He released my neck and I felt him get off of me, but I dared not open my eyes. I was too scared of what might happen. It surely became known when I felt a sharp kick to my stomach. I whimpered, then he landed another kick to my side. “Nobody wants you now! Nobody will ever want you! You’re just a dirty little pogue,” he seethed.

“Fucking bitch,” he spat again, and I heard his heavy footsteps as he stormed off, leaving me on the ground in pieces.

11:00 PM

I finally sat up, finding the strength to put myself together again, but was pulled into a coughing fit, my throat burning. I wish I could say I was numb, but I was brutally aware of the torment my body has been through, of the emotional trauma I’d have to live with.

I carefully stood to my feet but folded in half with arms wrapped around my stomach, clutching myself in pain. Everything hurts. I forced myself to straighten, holding back the tears. I felt broken in every way possible, but I willed myself to figure out how to get help.

I picked up my bag that had been tossed to the ground and rummaged through it for my cell phone. With a heavy heart, I called the one person that I needed more than anyone.

But of course, he didn’t answer. More tears were shed, even though it felt like I couldn’t possibly cry anymore. “Answer, goddammit,” I sobbed. I called again. “Please, JJ. Please. I need you.” Again, the call went to voicemail.

I let out a wail of anguish. Even with nasty bruises already forming on my skin, the loud shatter of my heart is what hurt the most. He’s never here. Even when I need him.

I didn’t even want to call anyone else. My ankle, my face, my stomach, my throat. Even though I was shaking in pain, I wanted to wallow in my heartbreak alone, so I slowly started walking again, and limped all the way home.

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“How was the movie last night?”

I stretched my arms over my head with a yawn, barely registering what John B. asked. “Huh?”

He chuckled and sat next to me on the pullout couch in the living room where I slept. “You got back pretty late last night. I’m guessing you and Y/N had a good time?” Now I’m thinking it’s not just my sleep induced brain that’s making me so confused.

“What do you mean? I wasn’t with Y/N,” I groaned while rubbing my eyes, the sunlight seeping through the windows too bright and annoying.

“What do you mean, dude?” His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes suddenly flashed with anger. “You were supposed to take her to a movie last night.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled, getting even more annoyed. He doesn’t have a right to be pissed at me, not when I have no idea what he’s even pissed about. It’s too fucking early for this shit.

John B. stood up with a sharp laugh. “I can’t believe you forgot again, man. Seriously?”

I sat up, my anger matching his now. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He shook his head before looking at me again, baffled.

“Y/N? Kill Bill? You guys had a date planned.”

I glared at him before realization finally hit me. I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Fuck. Was that supposed to be last night?”

He shook his head again. “You’re unbelievable, really.” I sighed. It was an honest mistake. At least I know she’ll forgive me. She always forgives me.

“I’ll fix it. I’m sure she won’t be mad.” John B. rolled his eyes. “And it wasn’t a date, by the way.”

“Yeah? Did you tell her that?”

“Stop talking in riddles, man. What the hell do you mean? Of course she knows.” He hit me on the back of the head, reminding me of my headache, the dreaded hangover starting to take effect. “Hey! What was that for?”

“She likes you, idiot! No idea why, considering you’re just a dick that doesn’t bother to show up to the plans you guys make.”

“Is this why you’re yelling at me? She doesn’t like me, dude. Not like that,” I rolled my eyes. I could punch him for getting on my case over nothing. Y/N doesn’t like me, and missing plans has never been a big deal. I just want to deal with my hangover in peace.

“You don’t deserve her. And she doesn’t deserve your shit,” he said, walking away into the kitchen.

“You’re getting mad over nothing. Fuck off,” I grunted, head in my hands. I need coffee and advil. His yelling is making my headache worse.

He sauntered back into the living room, throwing a bottle of painkillers at me, too forcefully if you ask me. “Just tell me, if you weren’t with Y/N, what did you do last night?”

I smirked, remembering the events that took place. “A hot blonde that I met at the boneyard,” my smirk widened. I expected some sort of congratulations from my best friend like usual, but I was met with a scoff and a water bottle being thrown at me.

“You’re a prick. You know that?”

“And you’re an asshole. What do you want from me?”

“Whatever, dude. Let’s just hope Y/N forgives you this time,” he snapped, walking away and finally leaving me in much needed silence.

“She will!” I yelled after him, hearing his bedroom door slam shut.

I sighed before gulping down the painkillers for my headache. I grabbed my discarded shorts from yesterday on the floor and grabbed my phone out of the pocket. I had forgotten that I put it on Do Not Disturb mode after the hot blonde and I left the party. Girls like it when you give them all of your attention, and aren’t distracted by calls and texts.

I sighed again when I saw the text’s from Y/N.

9:36 PM: On my way! See you in 20 :)

10:10 PM: Yo are you coming?

I sure feel like an asshole now. I hoped that she would’ve watched the movie without me anyway, but considering she called me twice at 11:00, she probably didn’t. I feel even worse now that I can see she waited over an hour for me. I typed out a text to her, but I wasn’t sure how to word this apology.

Hey, sorry I missed out last night. Got held up :)

I opted for keeping it nonchalant, not wanting to make this a big deal. I’ll make sure she knows how sorry I am the next time I see her. I’m not worried though. She’s the only one out of the pouges that doesn’t get mad at me when I do stupid shit, and she always forgives me. This time won’t be any different.

I laid back down with my arm covering my eyes, and I thought about what John B. said. Y/N doesn’t like me. She’d be stupid to like a fuck up like me. No, no, we’re just friends, and have been for years. I laughed at the thought.

John B. was right about one thing, though. I definitely don’t deserve her. She’s way too good for me, especially when I’m not good to her.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I stood in front of the mirror and peered at my naked body in the reflection, tears spilling down my cheeks for what felt like the millionth time.

My eye was swollen and bruised, a cut on my cheek from Rafe’s ring. Large spots of sickly green and deep violet stained my torso. Dark rings around my wrists from his tight grip. A lighter purple ring wrapped around my neck from where Rafe’s hands had cut off my breathing.

My hot tears dripped from my face and landed on my collarbone, bringing my attention to the hickeys littering the side of my neck too. I wanted to vomit. I could take the physical assault, but that’s not all this was. He violated me. Kissed me. Sucked on my neck while his hands traveled under my dress.

Going to the police was a thought that bounced through my mind, but I couldn’t, not yet at least. I was much too unstable. I needed support if I was going to report it, but I still hadn’t told anyone what happened. I spent all of yesterday locked in my room, letting myself wallow in the pain.

JJ had texted me yesterday morning, apologizing for not showing up. A simple text wasn’t enough this time. He texted me again that afternoon.

I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you. Please don’t be mad at me :(

I wasn’t mad. I was heartbroken, and didn’t bother responding to that text either. If he had shown up, I wouldn’t have been assaulted by Rafe. If he was there, we would have been happily watching my favorite movie, eating snacks and probably laughing at the gore displayed on the screen. If he was there, I wouldn’t have been crying in the dark streets alone, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I could have been raped. That I was almost raped.

The other pogues were trying to get a hold of me yesterday too, inviting me to their plans, but I never responded to anyone. I didn’t want to face them, or anyone for that matter. I didn’t even think I wanted to tell them what happened. It was all too much, and I didn’t want to relive it by telling anyone what Rafe had done to me. Not to mention it would add even more ammunition to the war between us and the kooks.

I don’t feel any different today, still just wanting to curl up in bed and be alone for probably forever, but I don’t have that luxury today. My mom had left for work this morning before I even woke up, but she sent me a text asking me to run some errands. When I protested, she gave me the whole lecture on how I only ever spend time with the pogues and never help out. I didn’t have a choice.

With one last glance in the mirror, I wiped the tears off my face and started getting dressed. I had to cover the bruises somehow, but makeup was not going to do the trick. Despite the hot temperature outside, I threw on a large sweatshirt over my sports bra. If I put the hood on, nobody would notice the disgusting marks lining my neck. I found a pair of my mom’s oversized sunglasses and they covered enough of my face to hide the cut on my cheek along with the black eye. I put on shorts and shoes and grabbed my bag before looking in the mirror one last time. Nobody would notice.

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“Have you guys heard from Y/N?” Pope asked the group. “She hasn’t responded to any of my texts for like two days.” I frowned. At least I wasn’t the only one she was ignoring. I thought that she was probably still mad at me for bailing on our plans, but since she isn’t responding to Pope either, maybe she’s just busy with other things.

“No, I haven’t,” Kie answered. “Pretty weird, right?”

“Yeah, I wonder what’s up.” Pope’s face looked concerned suddenly, and I found my own expression matching his.

“Why don’t you ask JJ here,” John B. said, tone sharp with annoyance. Kie and Pope both whipped their heads towards me, eyebrows raised in question. I just scoffed, turning my attention back to waxing my board.

“What the hell did you do?” Pope asked. His accusing words pissed me off. Who said this was my fault?

“Nothing, okay? I just forgot we had plans, and--” I was cut off by John B.

“No surprise there,” he mumbled under his breath.

Kiara sighed, her disappointed eyes casting down on me. “Seriously, JJ?”

“What? You guys can’t pin the blame on me! I got distracted, it wasn’t my fault.”

John B. scoffed and I wanted to punch him, much like yesterday morning. “Yeah, what was her name again? The distraction, I mean.” I rolled my eyes.

“Come on, dude. Not cool,” Pope added with a shake of his head. With all three of them staring at me in dismay, it felt like my friends were attacking me. It’s also like they knew something I didn’t. Why is everything always my fault?

“Stop turning it into a big deal. I just forgot, okay? I already apologized, so it’s fine.”

“So she forgave you?” JB asked, eyes narrowed like he already knew the answer.

“Well, no...” I let my head drop, looking down at the golden sand with all of our beach gear. “She never responded. But come on, this is Y/N we’re talking about! She never stays mad for long.” The words were meant to get my friends off my back, but I found myself taking comfort in them too. I had never really seen Y/N mad before, but if she actually was mad at me, I hoped she’d let me make it up to her and forgive me. I let myself believe that everything would be fine.

Nobody had anything else to say, only sighing and turning their gazes away from me. I felt the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach, but at least they dropped the subject. I’m more upset that this might actually be my fault. ‘Y/N isn’t the type to get mad easily,’ I reminded myself again. But she’s also not the type to ignore her friends. My mind drifted, wondering if she’s okay.

“Eat up, boys,” Kie said, taking a stack of sandwiches out of the cooler she brought. We all sat down on our towels and started eating, but I couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N from my mind. Maybe I should text her again.

Hey. We’re all at the beach having lunch if you wanna join us. Even if you don’t, that’s ok. Just let me know you got this. We’re all worried about you. I’m worried about you...

I typed it out, but couldn’t bring myself to send it. If she really is ignoring us, I’m sure it’s for a good reason. Maybe it’s best to just give her space. She’ll reach out when she wants to. Whatever the reason, though, I really hope it’s not because of me. She’s the one person I can always count on to be on my side, and I don’t know what I’d do if I was the cause of her distancing from us.

“Oh, no way. It’s Y/N!” Pope interrupted my thoughts. My head turned to see where he was looking, and sure enough, it was my girl, passing through the boardwalk.

Pope was up on his feet and ran to her, calling over his shoulder that he’ll bring her over to us.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Y/N! Hey!” I stopped in my tracks when I heard my name being shouted, and I noticed Pope running up from behind me.

“Oh, hey Pope,” I said, trying to swallow down my nerves. I didn’t plan on running into my friends here. I didn’t need them finding out about what happened the other night, so I put on a half-hearted smile, trying to act normal, trying to act okay.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked with a laugh, pulling me into a bear hug. I held back my wince from where he grabbed my sides, the bruises there shooting pain through my body.

“Oh, ya know,” I gulped. “Just busy with my family.” I was glad that my sunglasses were dark enough so that he couldn’t see my eyes. If he could, he’d know I was lying within seconds. “Sorry I’ve been M.I.A.”

“It’s alright. Come on. We’re having lunch right now.” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the beach, and the other pogues sitting together on the beach came into my focus.

My eyes widened. “Uh, no, Pope. Sorry, but I have to go.” He stopped and gave me a weird look. “I... I’m running errands for my mom,” I shrugged, hoping he would let me go so that I don’t have to talk to the others, talk to JJ.

“Just come say hi then. Everyone missed you!” He tugged my hand again, but I didn’t budge from where I planted my feet in the sand.

“No, Pope. Really, I have to get going.” I didn’t have any other excuses up my sleeve, and I could feel my resolve coming undone. He gave me another weird look, probably wondering what the hell is going on with me. I wanted to tell him. I did, really. But I was not ready to talk about it. I didn’t need him or the others seeing what I looked like under this sweatshirt, or the black eye I was sporting under my glasses. I knew it would only cause more problems, more rage, and I couldn’t handle that right now. If anything, I just needed a hug.

“Is everything okay?” I looked down at my feet and sighed, trying to muster up the strength to lie to one of my best friends. When I looked back up to him, he had sent a look towards the pogues, and they all got up and started making their way over.

“Yes, Pope. I’m fine,” I breathed out a laugh, trying to cover up my panic. “I gotta go, now. Really.” I turned around to run away, but I was too late. The pogues had already crossed the beach and were surrounding me.

“Y/N! Hey, we missed you!” Kie smiled, pulling me into a hug. Again, I had to hide my grimace from the pain that engulfed me so that my friends couldn’t see. I knew I couldn’t keep up this act for long, and I felt my heart sinking further into my chest.

“Yeah, I’m glad we ran into you,” John B. smiled with a nod in my direction. His expression was soft and kind, and it strangely made me feel like he understood that I wasn’t all the way okay.

“There’s my girl,” JJ’s voice rang through my ears. He looked relieved, and pulled me into his chest, squeezing me tight. This time, I wasn’t able to hold in the small noise that escaped past my lips. When he pulled away, he looked down at me with concern. “You okay?”

I pushed him away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t put on a half-assed smile this time. He’s the one causing my pain. The one that bailed on me. The one that wasn’t there when I needed him, leaving me alone and in broken pieces on that horrible night.

“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt?” Kie laughed. “It’s like one hundred degrees out here.” I just shrugged my shoulders, even though I was dying under the heavy material and the heat of the sun. I looked over my shoulder down the boardwalk, trying to avoid their worried glances, especially JJ’s. I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it for much longer.

“Yeah, what the hell? It’s burning hot out here,” Pope added, and pulled my hood off my head.

“Pope, don’t,” I said. “I have to go.” I turned away after putting my hood back on and started walking, not even caring that they definitely know something’s wrong now. I just need to get away before I break down.

JJ was the one to catch up to me, leaving the pogues behind us and sharing worried looks. “Y/N, wait.” He grabbed my wrist, and I winced at the contact. “I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for missing our plans. I got held up with a touron, and you know how it is. She was so hot, how could I not go home with her?” he laughed. Looking up at him, I felt my heart shatter all over again. Of course. He wasn’t with me because he was hooking up with some girl. This fucking hurts more than the punch Rafe landed to my face, and I felt anger swell inside of me.

“Come on, you’re not mad at me, are you?” He smiled, bringing his hands up to cradle my face. He was being his charming self like usual, which is precisely the reason I even fell for him in the first place. But his cute dimples and bright eyes aren’t going to fix anything this time. If anything, they’re just another stab to my chest.

He could sense I wasn’t giving into him. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise,” he pouted. My lips parted to speak, but no words tumbled out. He suddenly ripped my sunglasses from my face.

“JJ, don’t!” His face dropped at the sight of my bruised eye. The glasses fell to the sand when he stepped closer to me, eyes scanning my face. I pushed him back, but he swatted my hands away.

“Y/N?” His features quickly turned from worried to angry. “What the fuck happened?” I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I held them back as I tried to push him away again. He yanked my hood off my head and I knew he was piecing it all together now.

He reached for the bottom of my sweatshirt, and my hands grabbed at his to try and stop him. “Leave me alone,” I yelled, but he didn’t. Despite my attempts to stop him, he had grabbed the bottom of my sweatshirt and started pulling it up over my head. “JJ, stop!” I yelled again, but I couldn’t fight him back anymore because it hurt too much. He had taken it all the way off, leaving me just in my sports bra, my beaten body on full display.

A series of gasps surrounded me as the other pogues gathered around us again, shocked and bewildered expressions on their faces. I watched JJ scan my body. His eyes lingered on the bruises on my belly before flicking to my face again, and then my neck. With the way his eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his jaw, I could tell he was examining the hickeys on my skin. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and the silence was deafening.

“Oh, Y/N...” Kie whispered, eyes becoming glossy.

“What the fuck happened?!” JJ burst. His face was twisted in rage as his hands reached for me. I stepped away, but he grabbed my arms. “Who the fuck did this to you?!” I shook my head, trying to swallow the sob that was making its way up my throat. “Y/N, who the fuck was it?!”

“JJ! Lay off!” John B. spoke up. Kie had wrapped her arms around me, wanting to shield me from our angry friend. They could tell JJ wasn’t helping.

John B. and Pope pulled at JJ’s arms to get him to step back, but he exploded even more. “YN! Tell me who did this to you!” Seeing his reddened face and furious eyes made my own burning anger swim to the surface.

“Stop yelling at her!” Pope told JJ, him and JB still holding the blonde away from me.

“No! I swear to god I’m going to kill ‘em. What the FUCK happened??”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you had bothered to SHOW UP!” I flared, my voice slicing through the chaos among the group. My heated gaze met JJ’s, and his entire face fell at my words, the rage washing away from his pools of blue and replaced with sadness.

Everything seemed to still at my outburst, even my tears. I watched as JJ crumbled beneath the weight of my words. As angry and heartbroken and hurt as I was, I wanted to see him this way. I wanted him to feel guilty.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t show up. I should've known you wouldn’t answer when I called you for help. Because you never do.” With every word I spat, I could see the effect they had on him. I kept my ruthless stare fixed on him. “Congrats on fucking some touron, though.”

Everyone stayed silent as I picked up my sweatshirt and sunglasses from the sand. I glanced at JJ one last time before putting my glasses back on and turning around, leaving everyone behind me without another word.

***

Read: Stood Up - Part 2

Masterlist

***

#outer banks #outer banks fic #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #angst #jj maybank fic #jj x reader #rudy pankow #skiesofthesketchy #bricksatans #stood up

2K notes · View notes

mcmactictac · 3 years

Text

You know what I’m seeing a lot of differing opinions about c!Wilbur from this stream but what I don’t see ANYONE talking about is the diamonds. At the end of the stream, when Wilbur added 2 of his own diamonds into the chest with the building materials?

Him blowing up the corner is not about destruction. Its so clearly rooted in fear. He wants to see if he can trust Ranboo, and this is the only way he knows how. He replaced the floor after, put all the materials back and added in the diamonds. You can interpret that however you want but it reads like he didn’t actually want to ruin it for me. He’s scared Ranboo is going to leave him, and he’s testing his loyalty the best way he can.

C! Wilburs trust issues are through the damn roof, and though I agree he doesn’t go about it in the healthiest way, it doesn’t feel like manipulation to me. It’s his own desperate attempt to see if he can trust that person. It isn’t about manipulating them to do what he wants, it’s about testing them so he knows if they’ll be there for him when he needs it.

He’s so clearly scared of himself too. He wants to change and he wants to be better but he’s still stuck in the same place he’s always been. He still believes he’s a bad person, he sees how everyone else looks at him with a feeling of fear. And even if he likes it, he also HATES it. Wilbur wants people to be scared of him so they can’t have power over him, and they can’t hurt him. He doesn’t want to intimidate others just because, it’s all a self defence mechanism to protect himself.

You see the way he pauses after Ranboo talks about him being a good person. He doesn’t believe it. No one else seems to believe it, so why should he? He doesn’t even think he deserves that possibility. You can see how thankful he is to have SOMEONE tell him he doesn’t have to be the monster everyone thinks he is. Wilbur NEEDS support from other people, but because of how emotionally closed off he is he never gets it. He always had the illusion of leadership, of having a plan, but it’s all spun into a big illusion to protect himself from the mental issues he refuses to address.

Wilbur closes off, Ranboo closes out. They’re more similar than people want to admit. It’s just so much harder to understand Wilbur because he closes in and puts up that really good illusion. But he’s still not ok. Look at how close he stood to that explosion today. He moved towards it, instead of backing away. He’s still holding on by threads, and he won’t be vulnerable enough with anyone to get help to pull himself back together again. It’s like watching a gifted kid burn out but they keep pushing, keep ignoring all of the things that make everything so much harder and they just focus their energy into one thing until they crash.

I really don’t believe c! Wilbur is a bad person. I think he’s scared, I think he’s made some bad choices, I think at some level he WANTS people to think he’s bad just as another way to protect himself. Wilbur needs healthy support, he needs someone to recognize what he’s gone through and how all of his actions have just been a cry for help that constantly goes unheard. He’s much more complicated than just a villain. No ones saying you have to excuse all of his actions, and he should be held accountable for many of them. But if you’re going to talk about him being a villain and manipulating other people, at least try and think about how he got there. Understanding where his motives REALLY come from has a huge change on who his character really is. There’s a healthy balance between “Wilbur is an irredeemable villain, and Wilbur has done nothing wrong ever because he had bad things happen to him so how he hurt other people doesn’t matter” and I wish we could find it more when we talk about his character.

#c! wilbur #wilbur soot #dsmp wilbur #alivebur #c! Wilbur sympathizer here #please stop making him something he’s not #c! Wilbur is not a bad person #he deserves sympathy too #just because his problems are internalized and harder to see does not mean that they aren’t there #c! Wilbur apologists you always have such interesting takes #dsmp lore #dsmp lore spoilers #dsmp ranboo #c! Wilbur kinnies you all deserve hugs

104 notes · View notes

holmes-cringe-compilation · 3 years

Note

may i request some angsty h/cs? with a happy ending though, i'm too soft-hearted for straight up angst. maybe s/o and sherlock got into a fight? (because of a misunderstanding or not, i'll leave it up to you) maybe he even made s/o cry by saying sth he didn't mean in the heat of the moment...how would he go about reconcilation? especially if the fight was his fault in the first place/his s/o was in the right? i hope it's not too detailed...

a/n: hi anon ! augh..... my first painshot..... even if it's just how i like it, angst to much needed comfort because i am also too soft for hard angst hehe i hope you enjoy !

sherlock and his s/o having a fight

(this contains angst -> comfort !!)

being the great detective, he sure is a stubborn one at that. sometimes (most times) if sherlock has an idea that he deems plausible and makes him look super smart and hot cool it completely blinds him of other points that may contradict his own 'plausible' theory.

so even if he is wrong and he is called out for his faulty deductions, sherlock is used to fighting his corner in these very miniscule disputes, disagreements, whatever they're called because they're too small to be called fights in my opinion.

needless to say, he's used to the disagreements set in front of him, i guess it's because he's a detective...... even though he does kinda try to make a rebuttal against those disagreements and fails.........

i think small disagreements could be a thing in the relationship, but the type of disagreements that are so absurd and silly that it leaves you two in a giggling fit as to why you two seemed to almost get in a heated discussion on how to properly pronounce the word 'spoon'.

but bigger arguments ? it's out of the question. sherlock would hate to have something like that happen, even if you were in the midst of him having one of his theatre of logic and reason and you corrected him on something and he had to correct himself somehow, it would be too much for him to handle as it would feel too much like an actual fight with you. he's more of a peaceful man who settles things with cuddles and affection after all !

although if you were to be caught up in a more heated disagreement with sherlock, it would be him to start hardening his soft exterior, he can be responsible when he wants to be.

but..... i feel since he does express his emotions with...... flamboyance, maybe this could kinda mesh in with his responsible, hard exterior and make him mumble out something he thought he was thinking but you heard, maybe something that would make you both snap emotionally.

you're the first to go off into your room to spend some time with yourself, announcing your departure with a strained "... i need some time to myself." it takes a minute to realise that you just heard what he said, it felt as if his heart was torn from his chest and stomped on into oblivion.

i think he would overthink things like this and regardless if he was in the right or the wrong he would assume that it was all his fault for making you so upset and would try going to the room to consult you and apologise to you.

i think he would walk in to the bedroom to speak with you shortly after, his vulnerable feelings quickly eat at him whether it be loneliness or sadness. if you tell him to get out then he would simply nod and respect your decision, closing the door and sitting, slumped on the doorframe with a paleness in his face. if not, then expect sherlock to sit down on the bed beside you and quietly apologise for his words.

he's calm for the most part but as soon as he sees you crying silently he'll bring you into his secure arms and comfort you until you were alright. hell, he might even shed a few tears himself ! he's a very physical person and to see you in such a state makes him cling to you like it was in his genetic code or something, to hug people he's close to that are upset.

sherlock holds you close and lets you cry on his shoulder after apologising to you for his misconduct with you clinging onto him and wetting the shoulder of his pink shirt, not that he minded because it was you that is important here. "shh... shh.. it's alright love, i'm here for you. i promise i'm not moving an inch until you feel all better !" sherlock smiles for you as you manage to pull a watery smile while sniffling.

he was always going to be your goofy boyfriend, your silly detective love, the love of your life, no matter any disagreement you two may have with each other. however sherlock did detest having such disagreements with his love, it didn't suit the loving tone of the relationship nor does it in any relationship.

sherlock sticks to his word and holds you on his lap with you in his secure and warm arms, comforting you till your crying reduced to hiccups and then reduced to sniffling. he gently took your face from his shoulder and wiped the wet tears off your face before planting kisses everywhere, his favourite being your forehead and of course your lips. he couldn't resist it, you're so precious to him that he needed to show you his love.

"i love you, y/n. i can't thank you enough for tolerating me."

#dgs sherlock holmes x reader #herlock sholmes x reader #dai gyakuten saiban x reader #the great ace attorney x reader

67 notes · View notes

undertaker1827 · 3 years

Text

idk if this is to much to ask but can u do undertaker x reader where they get into a heated fight which was undertakers fault ill leave the rest to you

Absolutely! I got somewhat carried away with this, and it is very angsty. There is reconciliation, but not a happy ending!!

❗️Warnings; ANgst, some mean stuff being said, mentions of death

Masterlist

You knew something was wrong as soon as you walked into the parlour’s back room. Your first clue was the ‘closed’ sign on the shop door that Undertaker never bothered to put up, especially during the middle of the day, then the fact that he wasn’t in his customary position behind his desk. Instead, the mortician was reclined back on his small sofa, one leg crossed over the other and a book held in one hand, his disinterested gaze barely skimming the text he had to hold close to his nose to even be able to read. He barely glanced up as you walked in, not bothering with a greeting of any kind. You frowned.

“Undertaker?” The reaper’s chartreuse eyes flicked over to you, though he still didn’t speak. You raised a brow and held his gaze, but you didn’t try to move any closer to him, choosing instead to continue standing in the doorway. “You alright?” He let out a small huff of air through his nose, elegantly swinging his legs to the floor and standing in one fluid movement as he made his way towards you.

“Fine,” he muttered shortly, stopping in front of you and levelling you with a look that quite clearly said get out of my way. Your back straightened and your shoulders stiffened at the blatant dismissal, and some obstinate part of you sparked to life with anger. You shifted your weight to plant your feet squarely then crossed your arms over your chest, stare growing a little colder. All the mortician did in response was incline his head to one side to indicate he wanted you to move. You didn’t.

“What exactly is your problem today, huh? And is it so dire that you couldn’t even say hello?” Your words were bitter, and you refused to back down as you watched the reaper’s eyes narrow, sensed the shifting air around him.

“Move.” It took everything in you not to allow your lips to curl up into a snarl.

“No.” You stayed put as Undertaker sneered, only to get shoved harshly to the side as he strode past you, pain blooming in the shoulder that had connected with the doorframe. You practically had to jog to make up the distance between you with how fast he was walking, though his place was small enough that he couldn’t really get away from you. You followed the mortician through to the front room of the parlour, anger growing with every second that he refused to so much as acknowledge your presence. You grit your teeth as he fully turned his back to you in a show of looking through one of his bookshelves for something, which you thought likely wasn’t even there. “Look,” you sighed out, deciding to try a different approach, “if we could just talk about this-”

“And what would you know, hm?” He spun around on a boot heel to face you, burning green gaze seeming to spear right through you. “What concept of loss could you possibly grasp, how could you ever understand what it feels like to lose someone then have to live forever with the guilt of knowing there was nothing you could do-”

“Oh, I see how it is. I’m a mortal and am therefore incapable of understanding anything outside of the keyhole through which I view life, is that what you’re saying?!” It was most definitely a challenge and you were livid beyond measure, your words acidic because of course you had experienced loss, of course you knew what it felt like to be left behind and what right did he have to tell you otherwise.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” the reaper spat, turning away from you once more, “you are incapable of even being able to imagine what it’s like, because there is no loss which is of any consequence to a human.”

The deafening silence that followed was louder than anything that had just been said, the pressure of it pounding in your ears alongside your rapid heartbeat. It was emptiness you felt, you realised after a few moments of standing there and staring at Undertaker’s back, though there had to be pain somewhere too given that your stinging eyes were now lining with tears. Not that you were of any consequence to your partner.

“How dare you,” you whispered with a light shake of your head, hardly capable of processing the true meaning of what he had just said, the same person who loudly and unabashedly declared his love for you every day, who held you through your sorrows and shared with you your greatest joys. It didn’t register that the tears were now dripping from your eyelashes, though the mortician seemed to finally realise that he had gone too far when he turned around to find you crying.

“Y/N,” he murmured, eyebrows drawing together in concern and voice softer now, almost as if a switch had been flicked inside his head. “Y/N, love, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please forgive me-”

His hand stopped short as he reached out for your wrist, eyes wide but from surprise rather than pain. You’d smacked him so hard that your palm stung and his cheek was blooming red.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, hand cradled close to your chest. “Just don’t.” You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so betrayed by someone that you loved. You rushed quickly past him and practically fled to the bathroom, locking yourself in and leaning back against the door then allowing yourself to slide to the ground, no longer trying to prevent your tears. What you didn’t see was Undertaker slumping against the front of his desk with his head resting in his hand, eyes squeezed shut and moist as he tried to work out what the hell had been going through his mind when he’d said something so unforgivable to you.

You didn’t speak to the reaper when you reappeared over an hour later, walking straight past him to the armchair he’d got stuffed into the corner of the back room, curling up and turning your back to him. He deserved that, he thought, that and a lot more. Slowly, almost silently, he sat on the arm of the sofa furthest away from you, gaze faraway though his head was facing the far wall.

“His name was Vincent, the earl I told you about.” Undertaker’s voice was low and soft, as if he was trying not upset you further. “He was - we were close. Closer, even, than either of us had any right to be.” He took a moment to swallow, trying to shove back the emotions bleeding into his tone. “Today is the anniversary of his death.” That at least made you look up. He spoke of this earl with such care, reverence almost, that you felt you could practically feel the connection that still lived on in your partner. Undertaker allowed his eyes to drift to yours for a moment, offering you a small, sad smile before he once again looked away.

“He was young, Y/N, so young. Had his whole life to live. And by the time I found out, I was too late. I’m always too late.” His voice cracked over the syllable and you could feel your eyes once again heating up, though this time it was on his behalf. You watched as he lowered his head and closed his eyes; clearly there was something more that he needed to keep his composure to say. “The thing is...” He tilted his head back, blinking rapidly now to stem the oncoming flow of tears. “I can’t be - too late for you. I don’t think I’m capable of impressing upon you how impossible it would be for me to recover if I was too late for you. But you’re still mortal. And when the time comes... I still won’t know what to do.”

The reaper dropped his head into his hands then, shoulders trembling in silent, heaving sobs as the fears he had kept hidden for so long were finally revealed to you. You felt sick with worry for him, in spite of everything he’d said just a short while earlier. You hardly knew what you were doing as you stood and crossed the room, arms encircling your partner and pulling him as close to you as possible. Your heart clenched at the heaving breath he took, but you just curled one arm around his head and the other across his shoulders, holding him as tightly as he could. It took all of a few seconds for Undertaker’s arms to wrap around your waist, head pressed against your abdomen where you were standing and he was still balanced on the arm of the sofa.

Neither of you said a word for a long time, but you became aware after that time had passed of the mortician apologising to you repeatedly, no longer sobbing but so emotionally fragile that you were certain he could start again at any moment. You did the only thing you could do; you carried on standing between his legs and gently ran your hands through his glossy hair, fingertips caressing his scalp and mentally willing him to just breathe, to just stay calm. You still needed to process everything that had happened, but that didn’t mean you were going to leave him when he was so utterly vulnerable.

#black butler undertaker x reader #kuroshitsuji undertaker x reader #undertaker x reader #undertaker #adrian crevan #adrian crevan x reader #black butler undertaker #kuroshitsuji undertaker #black butler #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler reader inserts #submission

167 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

If You Leave Me Now

Summary: Ms. Oh’s letter gives Cha-young courage to say what’s in her heart.

Author’s Note: Back with another Chayenzo fic and surprisingly no angst this time, today’s episode inspired me to write this. Also fulfilled my Chayenzo fic prompt, this is what you call efficiency ladies and gents LOL I wanted to write sweet emotionally stunted Vinny and brave CY trying to let him know that he deserves love, hope you enjoy!

She doesn’t know what she had been expecting from the letter, initially she had thought it would simply be a thank you note-though it was unnecessary Ms. Oh was always very grateful and seemed to think that her mere existence was a nuisance to those around her. The woman had been so beaten down by life and she feels a sense of pride that her father spent all these years caring for someone that all others had all but thrown away after destroying her. She would never be as intrinsically good and right as her late father, she had too much blood and bad deeds on her hands to be sanctified but helping the powerless, she had enough heart left to see that this was something she cared about.

She had spent years following her mother’s untimely death hardening herself and convincing herself that others didn’t matter to her. She was an island and she needed no one else. This was her mantra as she worked her way up the social ladder at Wusang and purchased more and more temporary happiness in the form of bags and pretty suits, materialism filled the void that was left by her lack of any true love in her life.

She gently folds back up the letter, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks the words still tugging at her heart.

The woman had come to terms with her fate, knowing that while we are all essentially dying each day her days were numbered and their was an expiration date lingering in the imminent future. But it wasn’t those words that made her cry it was the words she has never seen coming.

It seemed the only people they were lying to were each other.

Ms. Oh knew.

Had known all this time and hadn’t deigned herself worthy of revealing the secret and getting the opportunity to hear that sacred word that only one person could anoint her with.

Eomeoni.

“It’s enough that I get to see him. He has grown up so well without me.”

It must have been torture for the poor woman to see the very son she had given away and not be able to hold him or hear his voice as he called her mother, her smile never quite reached her eyes when he called her Ms. Oh. It was as if she was quietly waiting and suffering for the day when he would slip and reveal their true relationship but if her partner was anything he was steadfast and stubborn. He wouldn’t be saying a word, at least without a nudge.

His words echo in her memory, “People like me don’t deserve love.”

it was such bullshit and cop out but she recognized it for what it was, a convenient shield from his feelings. If he believed that he didn’t have any right to love then he would avoid the pain that came from loving someone, the expectations and the vulnerability.

Squeezing the papers between her shivering fingers she grabs her phone before she can second guess herself, his number is the most recent in her call list. She had called him earlier today to see what he wanted to eat for breakfast tomorrow, it was his day to choose she had chosen last time.

The phone only rings once before he’s answering, his voice is warm honey through the speaker she knows he is laying down in his ridiculously expensive silk pajamas. She absently wonders how it would feel on her skin.

“Hmm what is it?” He answers groggily, sounding sleepy but patient and she can detect no annoyance at her calling so late, instead he sounds concerned and she can hear the faint sounds of him moving.

“I’m okay. You don’t need to get dressed.” He sighs in response, the sounds of movement fading and then it’s silent except the faint coos of Inzaghi in the background. “is Inzaghi keeping you up again? Maybe you should get someone to get rid of him?”

“No! How could I-- I mean no, it’s fine. His coos don’t bother me anymore. I find them soothing.” He replies more passionately than she had expected, he had been many hours cursing the pigeon in the past much to her chagrin but lately it was like he had found a new appreciation for the bird. It was weird. It wasn’t like the bird had saved him or something ludicrous like that so she had no idea why he was behaving like this.

“Okay.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” He hums on the other line, sounds of the kitchen reaching her ears now, he’s probably making tea he wasn’t much of a fan before but it had slowly grown on him. She had obnoxiously bought him a huge box of tea while she had been staying with him after he’d told her how he only enjoyed coffee- real coffee not the garbage she drank, she forced him to drink them with her every morning until he started making them on his own much to her amusement.

“Drink the chamomile tea, it’ll help you fall asleep.”

After a small pause he answers, “I don’t have trouble falling asleep.”

He lies and she doesn’t call him out, both recalling that night he had woken up sweaty and panicked after a dream. She hadn't questioned him seeing the terror on his face, knowing it wasn’t the right time. She had quietly made him tea and stayed up until he fell asleep, tucking the blanket more snuggly around him.

She listens as the kettle whistles signaling it’s readiness and suddenly she feels ready too, despite the consequences.

“Are you still planning on leaving Korea after you get the gold?” She asks suddenly, a familiar fear pressing on her chest the longer he goes without answering her and she can almost see his face- his wide eyes and the purposeful stoic look firmly in place.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” His voice is tired, desperately so and she can hear the hidden message, “why are you making me face my emotions?” and honestly she doesn’t know why herself, she has never been one to face her own emotions not with matters of the heart. She spent years pretending not to need her father’s approval or love whilst secretly pining and desperate for any attention from him even though she had been the one to push him away first.

It’s your fault she’s dead!

With those vicious words she had ripped her father’s beating heart from his chest and stomped on it with her stiletto heels. Then she had joined Wusang and fought against him, using money and influence to snuff out the hope of innocent people. Maybe Vincenzo was right and people like them didn’t deserve love.

But she was greedy and entitled and others might see that as a flaw but she didn’t care, she wanted this and she deserved it.

“Because I want you to stay.”

There’s no taking it back, the truth is now out there suspended between them and she can hear his gasp on the other line, she’s caught him off guard. Hell, he’s not the only one but she has already shot herself in the foot so there’s no turning back now.

She’s all in.

“I like you.” That’s a lie, the feelings she has for him have mowed past “like” a long time ago and are dangerously close to another L word she’s too chicken shit to admit to him or herself, she has some sense of self preservation and despite those lips devouring her own and stealing any doubts she had about his reciprocation of her feelings, she knows that he is scared of this and he could push her away in some blindsided decision to keep her safe.

“Wh--what?” He stutters out dumbfounded and far less eloquent than the smooth mafia member she has come to know.

It makes her smile softly, she feels honored to get to see this side of him. A side that he only shows to her.

“I’m happy that you came to Korea and that we met. That you met my father and for a little while you were on his side. That you accepted me after everything and that you have never judged me. Meeting you as been the best luck I’ve ever stumbled on, Vincenzo Cassano.”

The silence is deafening and she vaguely wonders if he has hung up too overwhelmed with her sudden confession and fleeing instead but the screen still says his name, “Corn Salad” when she pulls it back to peer at the screen.

“I know you don’t think you belong here in Korea, you don’t think it’s your home. But I’m learning that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be people too and the feeling you get around them. You showed me that.” Her heart is thundering now but she feels relieved to say this out loud too, if anything were to happen to either one of them it would break her if he never knew how she felt, what he meant to her.

“Me? I showed you that?” He whispers stunned and she can hear the soft rustle of him sitting down, had she made him weak in the knees? She can only hope so.

“Yes. I have lived here my whole life but I never felt as seen or accepted until I met you. You feel like home.”

“Cha-young ah.”

She waits to see if there will be more but that’s all he says, her name like it’s a sermon. It’s the first time he has called her by her first name despite how close they’ve grown in the past months. It sounds like music to her ears, not that opera noise he’s always listening to despite her complaining-loudly- each time she comes over but real music, the kind you would put on during those summer days where you let your hair whip in the breeze. The kind that remains in your heart even after summer has long ended and fall creeps around the corner with a cool entrance.

“I’m happy you’re here and I want this to be your home now. I don’t want you to run away, we both want you to stay.”

His breath is erratic over the line, even more so than when she had found him injured in the underpass. She lets him process her words giving him time that nobody else has ever received from her in the past, with him she wants to be someone who can be patient, he is worth the wait.

“Why are you telling me all this? Why now?” He pleads sounding tortured and when he sniffles she wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and wrap him up in her arms, he sounds so young and confused.

“I don’t want to have any regrets. Not with you.” She answers honestly, the letter staring at her from the table words catching her eyes.

“I can’t let him know how much he means to me. I know it is not my place to ask this but please love him dearly and let him know he is important and needed everyday. Letting him go was my biggest regret, I hope you will be stronger than I was.”

Like she had a choice anyway, she had told herself many times that she shouldn’t have feelings for him but every time she saw him smile or watched him torture someone to get them closer to taking down Babel all of her logic went out the window and she couldn’t help but imagine a life for them after this was all over. Korea, Italy, Malta, it didn't matter where they went as long as they were together. She had no intention of letting him go, not without a fight.

If that made her a villian so be it, he had been the one to train her how to be one in the first place.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

A long pause follows her apology and with a sigh she goes to end the call, he hadn’t outright rejected her and that was more than she had been expecting. She would regroup and make a thorough presentation of why they belonged together and why exactly he should either stay in Korea or let her go with him after they defeated those corrupt scumbags.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He admits, forgetting his earlier denial of this very fact.

“Are you drinking the tea?”

“Yes, I am. You left so many of them here. I told you I’m not a tea drinker.” He states contrary with the loud slurping she hears over the phone.

If she were anyone else his seeming dismissal through ignoring her confession would be heart breaking but she knows him too well now, is too aware of the dark inner workings of his mind and much he is overthinking every word she has uttered and cataloguing every reason that they shouldn’t be together, her safety is most likely top of the list. Old habits die hard and regardless of her constantly telling him that they should face everything together, she knows that there is still a lot that he hides from her in a guise of protecting her. His story about a nail pulling his suit plays out in her head.

“Tea is best for insomnia. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, staring at the picture she had sneakily taken of him when he had been distracted in the office. It had been a long day and he had abandoned his jacket and loosened his tie, a sign that the day had taken its toll on him. She didn’t know what came over her but she found herself picking up her phone and snapping a picture of his side profile, he looked so handsome. When he had looked up and seen her on the phone, she pretended to be texting someone and walked away, her heart racing until he shrugged and looked away.

“I won’t give up on you Vincenzo Cassano.” She promises, putting the letter back into the envelope and making her way to the bathroom to complete her nightly routines.

Face scrubbed and teeth brushed to minty perfection, she walks across the moonlit room tugging down the sheets and crawling in, being so open and honest had been emotionally exhausting.

The things she did for him.

Getting comfortable in her bed she reaches out to plug in her phone to charge, but the tiny envelope icon on her phone catches her attention, she must have received a message while she was in the bathroom. Curious, she swipes her phone open before clicking on the message, she tells herself not to be too hopeful it’s probably not him and she’s going to be disappointed when it’s just a telemarketer trying to get her to switch tv providers.

“Oh,” She stares at the message, the light from the phone the sole source of illumination in the dark room besides the moon glowing through her curtains. She has no words, no thoughts either all she can do is feel and even that is difficult with too many varying emotions raging war in her body. She had tried her damnest not to expect anything, knew that he wasn’t ready to face his feelings and he might never be able to say how he felt about her, his actions would have to be enough. She would have accepted it as enough, having him was more than enough.

But as the message stares up at her, she realizes she had been lying to herself when the wave of unfiltered joy that crashes over her washes away her sandcastles of lies.

You are already my home.

It’s not the passionate confessions that are glorified in dramas, there’s no rain or dramatic slowing down of time, he hasn’t even said those coveted three oh so special words; on the surface he has barely said anything at all but to her his words are a blanket on a cold wintery day, she has only ever wanted someone to stay and now she has found that.

Loving him feels like coming home.

#vincenzo #hong cha young #vincenzo cassano #CCFC2021 #chayenzo #chayenzo living rent free in my mind #soft hours

115 notes · View notes