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songmingisthighs · 1 year

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[15.57] bear hybrid!jongho × reader

⇀ you always knew jongho as this big, buffy, serious guy but soon your whole view of him might change

⇁ I LITERALLY JUST THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE EATING BAGELS ISTG AJSKDDKJS

buy me coffee ?

Jongho has been very sluggish lately and you don't know why. It's actually quite frightening to see.

Usually you'd be greeted with the sight of your roommate working out in the living room. His dumbells that's bigger than the size of your head sits on his side as he do reps of anything and everything. Then he'll stop once you put both of your breakfasts on the table to eat together with you. You really like the arrangement and he's a great roommate.

So imagine your surprise when you woke up one late November to see him nowhere to be found. Initially, you thought that he might just be outside. Maybe he decided to go for a run or something. But soon his bedroom door creaked open and Jongho peeked his head out, "is breakfast ready?" He asked in a very gruff voice, sleep still evident. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, "Jongho, it's 10 am, have you just woken up?" You asked to which he answered by simply nodding his head. Usually, he'd have things to say. Or more like complain about.

And it went on for days, weeks even. With each passing day, he became more sluggish and even rare to see. As an active person, Jongho is usually up and about. If it's not to help his producer raccoon dog hybrid friend, Hongjoong, it was to meet up to do more work out with a samoyed hybrid, Mingi, and a snow fox hybrid, Yeosang, or even just to hang out with his other hybrid friends. He would sometimes be at home but he would rarely be stuck in his room like he's been frequently doing. It made you worried in all honesty.

You knocked on Jongho's door and slowly opened it so as to not surprise him. With your head peeked inside, you called out to him, "Jongho?" and you immediately noticed the lump in his bed moved. "Jongho," you called out again as you stepped into his very neat room and walked carefully to his bedside. The lump (Jongho) moved again and you carefully pulled down his blanket to expose his face. He was trying to open his eyes but they kept closing and the sight of him trying to wake up made you snicker because it honestly looked so adorable, a stark contrast to his usual MANLY man demeanour. "Jongho," you called again one last time and it made Jongho stretch out and slowly sat up, "Yeah?" he finally responded. "Are you okay?" you asked as you knelt down on the side of his bed, "You haven't been yourself in a while and I'm worried... Are you sick?" you asked.

Jongho stared at the wall ahead of him for a bit, seemingly trying to gather his mind and consciousness. He then turned to you and shook his head, "Wha- what are you talking about?" he asked, voice heavy with sleep. "You've been lethargic, not exercising, and you only leave your room to eat and sometimes maybe go to the bathroom. What's going on?" Jongho let your words sink in before he suddenly grinned goofily at you, "You've been watching me?" he teased. You rolled your eyes and push his forehead with your finger lightly, making his head bob a little, "Yes, dumbass because like I said, I'm worried. Should I call a doctor or something? Or... a vet?" you cringed at your own words. It was obvious that you don't know much about hybrids and it showed.

Suddenly, a soft, wide grin broke on Jongho's face, accompanied by a giggle, the first ever giggle from Jongho you've ever heard. You pouted and smacked him gently on his chest, "Hey, don't laugh at me!" you whined. Jongho shook his head as his laughter dissipates, "Sorry, sorry, I forgot that you're not a hybrid." You raised an eyebrow in confusion, "What do you mean you forgot that I'm not a hybrid?" Jongho mimicked your expression and answered matter-of-factly, "Have you seen the way you eat when you're feeling comfortable? You eat like an animal," he said before bursting into another fit of laughter. You pouted and smacked his arm but he didn't stop laughing. Luckily his laughter slowed down and once his laughter subsides, he cleared his throat and stared straight at you, "I'm in hibernation, (y/n)," and your brain immediately clicked, your mouth dropped to an 'o' shape as you nodded in understanding. "I only hibernate for a month and it happens between the cold months so like late November to February. This time I guess my hibernation just came early," he explained. Everything made sense then and there and your worry almost immediately goes away, "Okay, that's good to know, at least you're alright and now that I know what's going on, I can know when to actually worry," you grinned and then reached a hand to pat Jongho on his head, "Now you go back to you hibernap, I'll wake you up for dinner?" As if on cue, Jongho's eyes drooped when he heard you say 'nap' and he simply nodded with a thumbs up

For some reason, you felt the need to tuck him in bed. Maybe in his hibernation state, Jongho seems more like a bear cub than an adult bear, but you just felt like doing things to help him. Once you made sure he was back to sleep, you set off to slip away from his room. But suddenly Jongho spoke out just as you thought he had gone back to slumberland. "Mm can't sleep without kissy," he mumbled. You halted in your steps and snapped your head towards him in utter shock. "Excuse me?" you choked out but Jongho simply reached a hand out from his blanket and made a grabby motion, "Kissy," he muttered. Though unsure, you walked back to him and carefully leaned down to hesitantly kiss Jongho on the side of his head and of course, his hair smells good. You'd think it'd be something manly like musk but it's definitely coconut. Jongho sighed in contentment before he started snoring away and with that, you realized that you might like hibernating Jongho a little better than regular Jongho. Sure, regular Jongho kills bugs and lifts heavy stuff, but hibernating Jongho is a baby that you just want to coddle.

After knowing that Jongho was in hibernation, you were able to function better. Both you and Jongho found a rhythm and a schedule to function with each other. You felt more comfortable as well knowing that you can cook at certain times and Jongho would come out soon, you know that Jongho would still come out with you to get groceries on Wednesdays and help you put things away before taking a nap, and you know that although Jongho was hibernating, there would be days where he would just sit in front of the tv in the living room with a blanket around him for hours and it's okay for you to join in on him and he'd be glad for you to do so.

Your favourite moment came on one rainy night. You had just eaten dinner with Jongho and chatted for a bit, then he washed the dishes as you wash up before retreating to his room. It was colder than usual but you really liked how the ambience turned out. So you were in the living room, an afghan on your lap and a book in your hand (as a prop just to justify your need to reenact a Pinterest "cold weather day" mood board), as the hot cocoa you made rested on the side table, steam visible. The door to Jongho's room opened, catching you by surprise and he came out with a pout on his face. Sleep still evident on his face (aka the red streaks on one side of his cheek) and his zoning gaze. The cream-coloured hoodie he wore and grey sweatpants made him look so fluffy and you knew that if it came down to it, you can squish his cheeks and make cooing noises and the worst thing he could do is whine at you. "Hey, why are you up?" you asked but he just shrugged as he trodded over to you. You sat up straight to look at his face as he just stood there, zoned out, "I thought you were gonna sleep?" you tried asking again.

Much to your surprise, Jongho suddenly laid down on top of you, his body slotted between your legs with his hands limp on your sides, and his head comfortably on your chest. You froze with your hands up in the air, not knowing what just happened or what to do. You could only stare at Jongho with much confusion, waiting for him to do something. Anything. But he simply remained unresponsive, he had even started to snore a little. Slowly, your body relaxed, getting used to the feeling (and the reality) that Jongho was feeling so comfortable on top of you that he has completely drifted off. The more you looked at him, the harder it gets to try to suppress your grin. You couldn't help it anymore and let your hand move on their own accord. With one hand gently caressing his back and your other hand card through his hair as you softly hum a random tune that popped in your head. It resulted in Jongho letting out what you can only recognize as a satisfied rumble from inside of him and you had to hold in a squeak at how adorable he is and you rush to take a picture of him in that position as quietly as you can.

He's not gonna like this when he's done with his hibernation but you're DEFINITELY going to be sharing your experience with his hibernation and behaviour in GREAT detail with him. And his friends. And there's a chance you're going to have proof of the claims you made. But this one? You're going to keep for yourself.

taglist :

@rdiamond2727 @bobateastay @kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @forapollosol @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @jo-hwaberry @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @jcngh0-hq @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @cutie-wooyo @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @multihoe-net @kpoplover718 @imswitchbabemox @haatohwa @youngestdelacour @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll

@seonghwarizon @chloepurpy

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sheltershock · 5 months

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I was thinking today about how Sasha and Milla both got burned for using telepathy/mind reading on another person without their consent and I liked that it played out that way. I think realistically if you had the ability to read minds you’d also be traumatized by the thoughts/fantasies of others. Plus it adds more subtext in PN2 when Sasha scolds Raz for trying to bend someone else’s will to his own. Because that’s what he did when he was younger. Major props. Psychonauts is so good at subtext that’s why I love the writing, and it’s ability to be whimsical and silly but also realistic and gritty at times.

But then I thought about their constant psychic link. It’s cute, nice little relationship thing between them. However, when taking the mind reading trauma into account… that psychic link probably wasn’t easy. At least in the beginning.

I mean the last time they did any level of telepathy/mind reading it went so awfully that both of their lives changed trajectory in an instant. So the idea of doing that again in general must be terrifying. I’m sure they both decided to form that link, but even having known each other there could be that aching fear in the background that the other person might accidentally hurt them.

Maybe the link was a form of therapy for the both of them. And they might have not even shared/said anything over it for a while. It could have been strictly professional at first, reminders for meetings, information relay, communication in the field, etc. They’re both still a little tense though that they’ll accidentally share something unrelated.

Milla was probably the first of them to share something over the link that was non-work related. Something mundane, like appreciation of the view from her office, or a compliment of the music she can hear through the wall, or what’s being served in the cafeteria that day. Something simple. And he’d answer back and they’d continue with their day. The first thing Sasha would have sent over was probably observations, non emotional observations. Construction being done, new colors being painted, or saying it’s colder outside and to bring a jacket if she’s going to the Quarry that day. They get a little more confident after a while. They share things they know the other would like. They start having longer conversations. There’s more emotion. People can observe them smiling at seemingly nothing more frequently.

Once a little bit more comfortable they’re talking about what they did that weekend, Milla struggles to describe exactly what her experience was like the other night. She offers to share the memory directly. She can feel Sasha tense up on the other side. The conversation ends. The next day, he offers her to send it over. He’s spent the entire time preparing for it, telling himself over and over that it’s her, that she’s offering, that it’s probably fine. And it is. Milla’s delighted and they move on, though she checks to make sure he’s not hiding a bad reaction from her. They’re both fine.

But that’s one of the things she’s very aware of. Long stretches of time where Sasha won’t say or respond to anything at all. She can hear swears through the wall during this brief times, and he hardly ever leaves his lab either. She understands why, everyone has bad days. But sometimes he does reach to her, because she always offers an ear to everyone. But she always makes it a verbal conversation. She just can’t seem to push past the irrational thoughts that the source of his frustration might be her. That she’s not a good enough agent, a good enough friend, a good enough partner. And she knows that he’d never say any of those things… to her face. But if she would read his mind she’d know for sure.

And one day he asks again if he can talk to her, and hesitantly she agrees. Over the link. And she spends the entire time waiting, waiting for that dreaded Freudian slip. But it doesn’t happen. And he finishes his thought, and they both continue on, except Milla finds herself in tears in her office. And she finds herself reaching back over to talk some more.

Over time and each individual thought, memory and experience, they’re both confident and far less afraid as they used to be. Their fears aren’t completely gone of course, but it’s them, specifically. And they know where the other’s sore spot is, and are more than willing to provide a warning for anything triggering. They find themselves using their telepathy abilities with others from the newfound confidence. Projecting their own thoughts to another, but only one way though. Only in the other do they feel truly safe enough for a two-way mental link. And was preciously an isolating, vivid and painful experience is now one where they are never truly alone, and it’s peaceful and it’s comforting.

Just a thought.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #sasha nein #milla vodello #sashamilla #I think the implications of their mental link with their backstories is very interesting #it’s really fun how we see a major catalyst in their lives and how they are now and we’re just left to guess the stuff in between #and you can have thoughts like this because of that #I love the subtly in psychonauts’ writing so much #headcanons

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still-a-morosexual-help · 11 months

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I just read Mammon's The Guardian Demon devilgram. Adorable! Mammon is top tier dad. My mc will fight those witch and raise that girl in Devildom with her father as God (or whatever obey me verison of God is) intended! I need dad Mammon in my life right now. Does the game mention his daughter more in other stuff?

Also Imma punch Solomon in the face. Sometimes this game makes it really hard to like Solomon. Why is he written to go out of his way to put down Mammon!? Yes, all of his brothers do it, but at least they know him and care about him when they're not being shitheads to each other. Why does Solomon have so much beef with Mammon? I'm not saying he can't, because everyone does. But idk it feels more aggressive when it comes from Solomon. Maybe it's because I haven't seen much of his character aside from the devilgrams and pop quizzes.

-💙🐏

Yes!! Definitely one of my favourite devilgrams! Outside of the Devilgram they mention her in S1 and in S3, I believe, Mammon mentions the three witches and going up to the human world frequently to meet them

Okay so about Solomon,

-> He thinks in a very practical way rather than an emotional way and, though his constant smile and upbeat attitude may not show it, he's rather cynical (the complete opposite of Mammon). We see this a lot in Nightbringer, where he's constantly preparing for a fight between the human world and other two realms and is heavily skeptical when MC talks about making the other two realms see humans as equals without it leading to a fight.

-> He talks about how demons (and angels) look down on humans and about wanting to make them see humans as equals but he himself seems to see demons as lesser than humans. He somewhat admits this in s3? s4? where he says he only started seeing demons as friends recently. But even this doesn't stop him from collecting them and trying to use them as weapons against their own people if he needs to

-> Solomon has lived a long time and it's made him very stuck in his belief that demons (and angels) see humans as lesser beings and nothing, other than proving it wrong through force, will change that. Even though we do see the attitudes of demons changing slowly throughout s1-4 with Diavolo's pilot exchange program

-> Solomon doesn't really have any family members or even close friends when he's first introduced in S1. The closest people to him are Asmo, Barbatos and Thirteen and we already know that he didn't see the demons he had pacts with as friends until recently. So that just leaves Thirteen, with whom he has a very atypical friendship. They care about each other but they wouldn't put each other before anything else. He doesn't seem to have the best understanding on what typical (specially familial) relationships are like. This is why Solomon initially believes that MC, being human, would be like him and pick the safety of humanity over their loved ones. When almost any average human would tell you that they'd pick their loved ones over countless faceless strangers - something even Nightbringer knew

So Mammon's whole deal with the witches for the sake of some human child probably made him very skeptical. And so he tries to break it down to something that's more understandable to him, something that fits within his belief system

Eg: "Oh she's not excited to see Mammon because she sees him like a family member she just has a silly little kiddie crush on him"

^ Which is an insane thing for him to say, specially when both Mammon and MC (two of the most emotionally intelligent characters in om!) instantly pick out the fact that the girl sees Mammon as a father figure

But Solomon interprets it like a crush because crushes make sense. You can have a crush on a demon, specially if they helped you out. Hell, there are demons specifically there for you to have crushes on like Asmo and the succubi and incubi. But for a demon and a human to see each other as family? That's strange

Anyway Solomon is such a complex and interesting character, there's just so much you can unpack there, but I tried to keep this short as possible

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nordickies · 1 year

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What kind of relations do the Nordics have outside ecah other? Friends etc.!

Oh, interesting!

Nordic countries are notoriously bad when it comes to making friends. Their culture is very individualistic and independent, and preexisting friend groups are hard to break into, so I don't think they would have that many friends! They're all introverted and quiet, so making meaningful connections doesn't come to them naturally. Some might find them hard to approach, but they're not mean - Just incredibly awkward at social gatherings. They're always the ones to avoid the biggest crowds and leave very early, usually without telling anyone.

Also, the concept of friendship is different in these cultures. Nordic people tend to have a dozen pals or buddies but only a few legit friends they would genuinely open up to. Having as many "friends" as possible is not a goal and might even be considered pretentious. But due to their job, Nordics are very professional and open countries diplomatically, so in work-related settings, they get along with anyone (once they overcome their shyness). It's just that in their personal lives, they likely just prefer each other. They don't seek friendships outside the Nordics, as they feel maintaining friendships with each other is hard as it is!

But with all of that said, these guys don't exist in a bubble, and they do have relations outside of their family

• • • • • • • • • •

Denmark

Denmark has probably the most relations out of all the Nordics due to his job and position. With other introverts, Denmark is very talkative and outgoing, usually taking the leading role, but if he needs to work with other extroverts, he suddenly becomes the quiet one. He has managed to make friends but has difficulty maintaining said relationships. His phone is always filled with unanswered calls and messages. Denmark can come off as rude or even arrogant, but he just has that Nordic straightforwardness. And he avoids small talk with strangers as much as possible; it makes him feel awkward. Generally speaking, he's a known name around the circles. As a former European power, a founding member of NATO, and a long-time member of the EU, Den has been a prominent diplomat in Western circles. But that also means he sides with the people around him in any given situation and follows their lead for his and his family's best interest.

He considers the German duo his friends, especially Prussia, whom he has known for a long time and always had a sense of rivalry with, sometimes friendly, sometimes serious. Germany has a business-first attitude, but even he eases up outside work hours. Because Germany is so young, Denmark sometimes takes an uncle role with him and pretends to be much more mature and wiser than he is. Denmark is often invited to the Germans' gatherings and parties, which he frequently attends, and has gotten a reputation as a bit of a party animal among other Europeans. Denmark is very dependent on Germans, and borderline bothers them at work, proposing ideas during meetings, making jokes, and always trying to sell something to them. But Denmark's an important promoter for all the other Nordics' issues. He still acts as the family's boss, handling matters with the rest of continental Europe. Of course, this means Den is on great terms with France and the Benelux siblings, who he shares long historical connections with. England is also an important ally, but he's still uneasy around Denmark. He can still remember how ruthless Denmark used to be growing up and will most likely never get over his primitive fear of him. While everyone else sees Den as a golden retriever, England isn't letting his guard down.

Denmark is friendly with the Baltics, though he can oftentimes forget or overlook them in a bigger crowd. They have a long history, but their first encounters weren't positive. Not many countries can say that about Denmark anyway; he was quite the troublemaker. However, during modern times, the Baltics don't have anything against Denmark other than him being noisy and pesky sometimes. He has been a significant ally after the Baltic's independence. They get along better than many other nations, as they have known each other for a long time, share Northern European/Baltic Sea culture, and could be considered family friends. As for who he hangs out with outside the Nordics, that would be either the Germans or Benelux siblings. Denmark is considered their jolly but a bit of an annoying Northern neighbor, who is always ready to party.

Finland

Finland is a friendly and helpful person, but he gets overlooked in a crowd. He hates making any fuss about himself and has a hard time joining conversations, so he stands to the side observing quietly. He enjoys being alone in peace so when his socially-demanding job gets tiring, he'll escape to his cabin in the woods and not talk to anyone for a while. Finland has a special position in Europe as one of the links between the West and the East. He has experienced both sides growing up and managed to maintain a positive relationship with the East during the Cold War (which he kind of had to). For being a small country, neutral Finland is surprisingly often put forward as a negotiator and a person brought to solve issues and misunderstandings.

Estonia is obviously Finland's best friend. They hang out together all the time, share everything between them, and Fin might even ditch the Nordics to have a sauna with Estonia or play sports with him. Finland sees Latvia with fondness as well, but he often gets forgotten when Finland and Estonia hang out together, like "little brothers" always do. Finland and Estonia recently learned that Hungary is their long-distance relative, so they're trying to build relations. They have always gotten along weirdly well, and now there's finally an explanation! Finland has a long-time connection with the Germans, who were his essential business partners and someone Finland observed for trends. Prussia even taught him how to fight. They don't have time to hang out outside work but meet for lunch when they can. Most Eastern Europeans were Finland's family for over 100 years, so he has a lot of good memories and connections with them. Though the Easterners don't always return this sentiment - Finland always had it so easy after all. Finland is harmless and not irritating (unlike some other nations), so they might invite him to a party, but they still gossip about him when he's not in the room with them.

Finally, Finland's relationship with Russia is, well, complicated. Russia has always had a more relaxed approach to this particular neighbor and seemed oddly favorable towards him. He feels he can trust Fin and get a genuine discussion out of him since Finland is one of the few who doesn’t seem that scared of him. Finland, due to being so non-confrontational, tends to treat Russia with too much kindness and understanding. Finland believes it's better to have Russia as a friend rather than an enemy, and he tries to keep things that way. Russia has even offered genuine friendship, which Fin has appreciated but always viewed with caution - they might have contradictory ideas of “friendship”. And Finland still has negative memories from the past. He’s bad at holding onto grudges but the feeling is still there. Nevertheless, Finland is always welcome at Russia's place, and Russia would gladly have drinks with him - which Finland agrees to just to keep him happy. He's like an annoying neighbor you just have to be friendly with or things get awkward.

Norway

Norway is a reserved guy who doesn't have many friends outside the Nordics. Most of the time, he hangs out with Sweden, which is maybe a bit embarrassing but they just get along the best. Norway doesn't like parties or big social gatherings - He feels like most people end up invading his personal spaces and making him uncomfortable. And Norway's social battery runs out extremely fast. Norway prefers to keep to himself, yet he has weird charisma that makes people interested in him. He's regarded as a calm, skilled, and rather handsome nation, which fascinates others. Norway used to be tied to his siblings, who would make decisions without properly consulting him - so nowadays, he cherishes his freedom and self-reliance. He has strong principles and cooperates extensively with nations that share his values.

Having a massive coastline, Norway sees the Atlantic as his home and therefore has good relations with fellow Atlantic nations. Norway has a long history of cooperation and friendship with the UK brothers, especially England and Scotland, and they even share cultural heritage from the Viking Age. Even though their relationship didn't start on the best note, they have gotten closer over the years and show solidarity toward each other. Scotland respects and admires Norway greatly and views him as a remarkable friend. During WW2, England was an immense help to Norway and took care of the royal family. Norway is grateful for this, and they share an adorable Christmas tree tradition every year. In modern times, the UK and Norway are significant business partners and have a lot of cultural exchange.

Norway has traveled far and wide and generally, the Commonwealth countries have been friendly to Norway and allied with him on many matters. Alongside the UK, America is another vital trade partner and a long-time ally. America is fascinated with Norway's mysterious heritage and customs, though Norway finds his fan-behavior ridiculous at times. America is loud and extremely outgoing, so their personalities often clash, but Norway still sees good intentions in the younger nation. They don't hang out much but are on friendly terms. Even one weekend near America is enough to drain Norway's energy entirely.

Sweden

Sweden is a quiet and calm person who others can find intimidating. He has difficulty making friends because of his assumed disregard and stern appearance. And it's not like he doesn't want friends; He loves spending time with his family and friends, planning and hosting parties or events. He’s just not that talkative, only saying what's relevant - but people who have known him long enough know how to communicate and read him. His history and appearance certainly don't make him approachable, but Sweden is a caring and compassionate person who roots for the underdog. Sweden has always been rebellious and sticks to his guts. He's not going to let anyone tell him what to think or do. He's not a provoker per se but someone who isn't afraid to point out his opinion on the matter and stick to his neutrality out of solidarity for others, participating in aid and development to the best of his abilities.

While other nations respect Sweden significantly, Poland isn't a massive fan of his, nor has he ever been. They don't dislike each other, but they both have strong personalities and opinions that often clash with one another. Maybe they can be a little sassy too. Sweden isn't a huge fan of England and France either, though he gets better along with England. They're important work partners, so business is handled professionally, but he finds them irritating most of the time. They're also the reason for most of the negative stuff he has gone through in the past. It seems like there wasn't one peaceful day without those two somehow messing it up and dragging everyone else into the mess. Germans have always been an important contact in Europe, just like for the rest of the Nordics. Sweden and Germany are both calm and take their professions seriously, so they get along well, and work is done efficiently. Maybe surprisingly, Sweden and Iraq have a long history of diplomatic relationships and are friendly with one another. Greece and Turkey are a long-time contact as well, all the way from his teenage years.

Sweden views the Baltics with warmth and would welcome them into the family any time. Sweden was a big supporter of the Baltic independence and has ever since shown great support to these states. However, the Baltics find Nordics hard to approach, as they can be intimidating or even appear smug. Nevertheless, Sweden has had a relatively positive relationship with Estonia and Latvia. Estonia and Latvia remember the Swedish rule as "good years," though that isn't saying much considering their history. Sweden was never mean or cruel to them. He was rather generous towards the two and wanted to take good care of them, unlike the other forces in the region. He is a baffling personality to the Baltics - Very friendly but challenging to approach. Young Latvia managed to warm Sweden's heart, probably reviving that fatherly instinct inside of him. Estonia was a bright, ambitious man who reminded Sweden of himself. Sweden always encouraged him, and they're on friendly terms to this day. They just don't really spend time without Finland; they fear it would make him upset.

Iceland

Iceland has spent most of his life alone or with his family, so he doesn't really have long-time friendships outside the Nordics. But he has a strong urge to make friends, preferably with other younger nations, as he's tired of being treated like a baby. He tries his best to reach out to others, but his shyness occasionally hinders that. Due to his distance, Iceland doesn't travel as often as other Nations, and nowadays does most of his meetings online. He is known to have poor organizational skills and be late for meetings quite often. He has a lot of hobbies, and when he gets lost in them, he might forget his phone and miss text messages and calls. But still, Iceland takes his job very seriously and wants to prove his abilities. He's an active listener at meetings and follows the world news constantly. He hates fighting and isn't afraid to stand up against bullies. When he has a lot to say, he'll take the initiative (after trying to get others' attention for half an hour).

Iceland doesn't have enemies, but he feels like he has always been England's target. In his eyes, England is a bully, and he doesn't respect Iceland (or many others, for that matter). England finds Iceland petty and immature, but he won't say it out loud; he has frightening big brothers after all. They have had many little disagreements throughout the ages. Little Iceland was known to be mischievous, and he would often prank England when he was visiting their house. The other Nordics found this hilarious but tried to stop Iceland before he could do any significant damage; they didn't want to embarrass their important ally, after all. The Cod Wars against the Brit were important for Iceland, even if others saw them as unnecessary. The victory offered a well-needed confidence boost and showed others Iceland was more than capable of taking care of himself. But when it comes to other island nations, Iceland has nothing but nice words to say about them. They have all been very friendly and welcoming. Iceland is especially friendly with Ireland! Ireland and he share history, and Ice is fascinated by this. He might sometimes inquire Ireland and ask him questions about the past, which Ireland would gladly answer if he had much to offer. They both have harsh environments and rocky relationships with England, so they get along great on that front too.

Iceland is a small nation that supports other small nations. He was among the first to recognize Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan from the USSR - also Croatia's and Montenegro's independence from Serbia. Significantly, Iceland was also the first Western state to recognize Palestine. His solidarity and recognition have given him a lot of praise among other small nations. They remember this by sending Iceland postcards and flowers occasionally, which Ice gets flustered by - He's just doing what he'd want others to do for him.

America is one of the few countries Iceland has historically interacted with. He was the first to recognize Iceland's independence and considers Iceland an ally he is always ready to support. Iceland isn't sure how it happened. Their relationship just started with young America claiming, "You're my friend now," and Iceland was too confused to say anything to that. I imagine they met when America was still under England's rule. America finds Iceland cool and shares a similar upbringing to him, though Iceland would disagree. Iceland is happy to know he has a strong ally like America, but he's not exactly sure what to think of him. America is an important business partner and someone who supports Iceland no matter what, so Iceland lets him be his friend. But America has a very different status and lifestyle, and he can be oblivious to Iceland's life or problems, so their friendship is rather one-sided.

• • • • • • • • • •

Also, some random ones I could see being a thing:

Finland is a country with a prominent motorsport culture, so I think he and Monaco are on friendly terms and share a hobby

Sweden has a "parent group" with other parent nations, where they share tips, arrange playdates, and give much-needed support. I can imagine him and Australia doing dad dates

Norway sometimes goes on skiing trips with Switzerland, Liechtenstein, and Austria. They are all massive fans of the outdoors and ski-related sports; thus, they get along well. New Zealand is another outdoor fanatic Norway gets along with

Iceland and Latvia consider each other friends. They are the youngest of their respective families and around the same age. They're both superstitious, having strong pagan roots and traditions. But they also overall share similar Northern European culture and history

Canada is another Arctic Nation and is friendly with all the Nordics. Well, he and Denmark pretend to have a rivalry, but it's actually a longtime insider joke. Sweden and Finland are familiar through hockey of course. Though Canada gets embarrassed when his brother constantly mixes up the Nordics' names

And then there is Sápmi, Greenland, Faroe Islands, and Åland too...

There are a lot of relationships so I could only give a quick overlook! However, if there is a specific one you're interested in, maybe I can talk about it a bit more in-depth some other time

#hws denmark #hws finland #hws norway #hws sweden #hws iceland #headcanons #my art

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rottingbricks · 4 months

Text

3000+ Word Rant On Why Boris and Theo Are Endgame and Had a Romantic Connection ✯

Forever and always will believe Theo and Boris are soulmates and they got married and lived their life together. (Maybe that's too much. Let me just explain why they have a very deep relationship)

Where do I start? So for one Boris was Theo's first kiss and sexual partner. They had a deep connection, felt safe with one another, and were practically inseparable. It's explained that Boris basically lived with Theo and was hardly ever at his own house. They also looked out for each other, Theo cleaned Boris' wounds after being beaten by his father and Boris comforted Theo on the loss of his mother —Here's a quote from the book; "And I suppose if either of us had lived in an even halfway normal household, with curfews and chores and adult supervision, we wouldn't have become quite so inseparable, so fast, but almost from that day we were together all the time.” (Tartt, chapter 5, section 12)

WHY THEO LIKES BORIS (YOUNGER) Everything is great between Theo and Boris but when Boris meets a girl: Kotku, it all goes to shit. But the way Theo responds to it is very telling. First off, Theo reflects on good moments with Boris after Boris got so wrapped up with Kotku; “I told myself I didn't miss him, but I did. I got stoned alone, watched Adult Access and the Playboy channel, read Grapes of Wrath and The House of the Seven Gables which seemed as if they had to be tied for the most boring book ever written, and what felt like thousands of hours—time enough to learn Danish or play the guitar if I've been trying—fooled around in the street with a fucked-up skateboard Boris and I had found in one of the foreclosed houses down the block. I went to swim-team parties with Hadley—no drinking parties with parents present—and on the weekends, attended parents-away parties of kids I barely knew, Xanax bars and Jagermeister shots, riding home on the hissing CAT bus at two a.m. so fucked up I had to hold the seat in the front of me to keep from falling out in the aisle. After school, if I was bored, it was easy enough to go hang out with one of the big lackadaisical stoner crowds who floated around between Del Taco and the kiddie arcades on the Strip. But I was still lonely. It was Boris I missed, the whole impulsive mess of him: gloomy, reckless, hot-tempered, appallingly thoughtless. Boris pale and pasty, with his shoplifted apples and his Russian language novels, gnawed-down fingernails and shoelaces dragging in the dust. Boris—budding alcoholic, fluent cursor in four languages—who snatched food from my plate when he felt like it and nodded off drunk on the floor, face red like he'd been slapped. Even when he took things without asking, as he all too frequently did—little things are always disappearing, DVDs and school supplies for my locker, more than once I'd caught him going through my pockets for money—his own possessions meant so little to him that somehow it wasn't stealing; whenever he came into cash himself, he split it with me down the middle and anything that belonged to him, he gave me gladly if I asked for it. (and sometimes when I didn't, as when Mr. Pavlovsky’s gold lighter, which I admired in passing, turned up in the outside pocket of my backpack)” (Tartt, chapter 6, section 4)

Theo took note that Boris was very physically touchy and that it made him a little bit nervous; “The funny thing: I’d worried if anything, that Boris was the one who was a little too affectionate, if affectionate is the right word. The first time he’d turned in bed and draped an arm over my waist, I lay there half-asleep for a moment, not knowing what to do: staring at my old socks on the floor, empty beer bottles, my paper-backed copy of The Red Badge of Courage. At last—embarrassed—I faked a yawn and tried to roll away, but instead, he sighed and pulled me closer, with a sleepy, snuggling motion. Ssh, Potter, he whispered, into the back of my neck. Is only me.” (Tartt, chapter 6, section 4) Then, Theo has a little gay panic — because of Boris being so affectionate; “It was weird. Was it weird? It was; and it wasnt. I’d fallen back to sleep shortly after, lulled by his bitter, beery unwashed smell and his breath easy in my ear. I was aware I couldn't explain it without making it sound like more than it was.” (Tartt) Near the end, Theo tries to play it off that what was happening between the two wasnt romantic, If Theo wasnt thinking of Boris in a romantic way why would he even be written to question or worry that they could come off in such a way? The fact Theo is worrying about it so much can only lead me to believe that Theo does think of Boris in a romantic light and is trying to deny it. Theo continues to explain ways Boris was affectionate towards him, further deepening the connection between the two of them; “On nights I woke strangled with fear there he was, catching me when I startled up terrified from the bed, pulling me back down in the covers beside him, muttering in nonsense Polish, his voice throaty and strange with sleep. We’d drowse off in each other's arms, listening to music from my Ipod.”

Then, the final nail in the coffin, Theo recalls the nights when he and Boris would partake in closer intimacy; “And yet (this was the murky part, this was what bothered me) there had also been other, way more confusing and fucked-up nights, grappling around half-dressed, weak light sliding in from the bathroom and everything haloed and unstable without my glasses: hands on each other, rough and fast, kicked-over beers foaming on the carpet—fun and not that big of a deal when it was actually happening, more than worth it for the sharp gasp when my eyes rolled back and I forgot about everything;” (Tartt) Afterwards, Theo mentions Boris and him never spoke of those nights, and that if people found out they were having sex they would; “think the wrong thing if they knew,”. However, Theo thought about those strange nights a lot and they clouded his mind at times, but, for Boris, it didn't seem like that. Theo notes Boris seemed unbothered by those nights; “But all the same he [Boris] seemed so completely untroubled by it that I was fairly sure it was just a laugh, nothing to take too seriously or get worked up about,” (Tartt) Since Theo uses multiple ways to get the ‘it's not a big deal’ point across. Saying it was a laugh, not serious, nothing to get worked up over, and uses all that when he's just going off of how Boris thinks and reacts to those nights. It can make the reader think that Theo, in contrast, does think of those nights in a serious, worked-up way. To further prove my point Theo was urged to discuss those nights with Boris, so he didn't ‘have the wrong idea’; “More than once, I had wondered if I should step up my nerve and say something: draw some sort of line, make things clear, just to make absolutely sure he didn't have the wrong idea.” (Tartt) Theo gets defensive over the thought of those nights, more importantly, the thought that Boris viewed those nights as something more, something romantic. This is even further pushing my earlier statement that a person who sees these moments as not romantic wouldn't be written to be worrying that it is romantic or that the other person sees it as romantic. So the fact Theo is worrying so greatly that these nights could even possibly be interpreted as romantic (especially when Boris isn't doing the same) can only have me further believing that it's because Theos is trying to deny or block out the actual romantic feelings he is having. Theo is so obsessive on this romantic or not topic that it comes off like Theo has a fear of becoming an orientation that he believes he isn't and that bleeds into internalized homophobia. Theo ends off this recall moment by stating; “I hated how much I missed him.” (Tartt)

There's another moment when Theo is thinking about how Boris is constantly around Kotku and hardly ever with Theo anymore. Theo tries to reassure himself; “But who cared what crappy girl Boris liked? Weren’t we still friends? Brothers practically?” (Tartt) Theo says he and Boris have a brother-like companionship, this, out of context is weird to use to prove my point that they are romantic. But considering all the context provided above this can once again be Theo trying to find an excuse to prove to himself that he and Boris aren't romantic. It's also obvious they aren't brotherly because the two are litterally having sex. In addition to this, right after that quote Theo admits; “Then again: there was not exactly a word for Boris and me.” (Tartt)

Finally, when Theo leaves Vegas he is rambling, trying to convince Boris to come with him, when; “I was still babbling when Boris said: “Potter.” Before I could answer him he put both hands on my face and kissed me on the mouth.” Shortly after. Once Theo is in the taxi he thinks to himself and admits to himself; “I'd stop myself from blurting the thing on the edge of my tongue, the thing I’d never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying it out loud to him in the street—which was, of course, I love you.” (Tartt, chapter 6, section 19)

WHY BORIS LIKES THEO (YOUNGER) All the content that is romantic between Theo and Boris is most of the time, if not always, initiated by Boris. Boris was the one who draped his arm around Theo, Boris was the one who pulled Theo closer when he rolled away, Boris was the one who cuddled Theo, Boris was the one who calmed Theo down from nightmares, Boris is the one who kissed Theo on the mouth while he had a girlfriend. Undoubtedly, all these things are romantic. Especially since these moments are told through Theo's perspective, who is interpreting these things as romantic, which rubs off on the reader.

When Theo is leaving Vegas and getting in the taxi, Boris hums the song "After Hours" by The Velvet Underground which is a band Theo and Boris listened to together. He hums a specific part of the song where the lyrics sing; "But if you close the door, I'd never have to see the day again" My interpretation of those lyrics in the scene’s context is: “But if you close the door” = If Theo doesnt leave Vegas. Correspondingly, those lyrics about closing a door means closing the door is giving privacy and leaving the character alone with someone they love. Another thing to mention, before those lyrics take place these lyrics are in the song; "Oh, someday, I know someone will look into my eyes and say, 'Hello, you're my very special one'" All of this feels very intentional. When songs and SPECIFIC lyrics are mentioned in novels it's always to convey something and those lyrics are just very romantic and are also about whether the character is going to choose to be alone or be with someone. Considering the lyrics are hummed by Boris right when Theo is leaving him is very telling. It's also to convey that Boris is debating whether to leave with Theo or not.

Everything I just mentioned was the Vegas era when they were teenagers, I will now discuss when they are adults.

WHY THEO AND BORIS JUST MAKE SENSE (OLDER) Now that Theo has lived and been with more people than Boris I will break down Theo's love interests and explain why they aren't good for Theo and why Boris ends up being the best outcome.

KITSEY: Kitsey is Theo's fiance whom Theo cheating on while Kitsey is also cheating on him. Theo is having affairs and hookups with pretty much random women. Kitsey is having an affair with Tom Cable, an old fake friend of Theo's who was the reason why Theo and his mother were leaving the house the day of the bombing. Once Theo witnesses the two kissing in secret he confronts Kitsey, this ends with Kitsey gaslighting Theo to stay in the relationship for the happiness of Mrs. Barbour rather than themselves. Kitsey also admits their ‘love’ has always been head not heart, that they get along well but neither is in love with the other.

PIPPA: Pippa was another victim in the bombing in lost her uncle, this led to her and Theo crossing paths as young teenagers. Finding comfort within shared traumatic experiences. As they grow older Theo begins to romanticize her. Although it's not love, it's more of an obsession if anything. Theo obsesses and overly plans their meetups making sure they are perfect, Theo shows mild jealousy and irritation to Evveret: Pippa's boyfriend, Theo keeps a shirt of Pippa’s without her knowledge, and as creepily as it is..Theo has a lock of Pippa's hair that he took from a trashcan after Pippa cut her bangs in the bathroom. Theo eventually confesses his love for Pippa in a downtown restaurant after seeing a film. He tries to reason that Welty, Pippa's uncle who she lost in the bombing—put Theo exactly where he needed to be at the right time with WHO he needed to be with (aka Pippa and Hobie). Pippa eases Theo into rejection, however, she admits she has a thing for him as well. She begins to explain reasons why the two of them cannot be together: With their shared trauma..if one of them ‘fell’ the other would go right with them as there is no emotional stability between the two, one cannot be there for the other if they can't even support themselves. They are close enough to star-crossed lovers: lovers who are destined to not be together being pulled from one another by outside forces.

If Theo can't have Pippa and doesnt want Kitsey it's reasonable to conclude that Boris is a valid romantic option for Theo. When the two reunite Theo feels alive again after living a boring tucked-away life. He's laughing and enjoying every second with Boris.

BORIS: After years of separation and keeping a secret from Theo news reports come out about how The Goldfinch painting was not ruined in the bombing and is being used as collateral. Boris is under the impression Theo has already unwrapped The Goldfinch years ago and found out what Boris did. With the rise of these news reports guilt rises in Boris that he took the painting from Theo and ended up losing the painting. Boris has a hint that Theo would not want to see Boris ever again and even wants to act violently against Boris for taking the painting from Theo, however, Boris is aware that he must try to fix what he’s done. So, he goes to New York and goes to Hobie's old shop, seeking Theo. When Theo isn't there to be found Boris is sure he’ll never see Theo again, but they happen to run into each other later in the night outside a bar. They then spend the night till 4am talking and catching up. Theo admits in college he took a conversational Russian class because it made him think of Boris. Boris admits Theo was the only boy he's ever been in bed with—but brushes it off as they were desperate teenagers in need of girls..but that doesnt make sense as Boris has a girlfriend, Kyoto- and he was talking to girls before her too. He wasnt partaking in sex with Theo out of desperation for pleasure by any means. -- Boris then says he thinks that Theo thought their relationship back then was ‘something else’, after saying this Theo gets upset and begins to leave the table. Within this mix, Boris apologizes for what he did to Theo all those years ago and he deeply regrets it, Theo is confused about what he is speaking about and Boris is shocked that after all these years he’s never unwrapped the painting. Leaving Boris to admit what he did with the painting with picture proof. Boris wants to apologize to Theo and attempt to find the painting— for Theo.

In the hunt to regain the painting, Boris interrupts Theo and Kitsey's engagement party to take Theo onto a flight to Amsterdam. After some bickering..Theo agrees and says goodbye to Kisey and packs his bags with a nice suit and lots of money. — Boris arranges a meetup with the holders of the painting, but the sellers seem suspicious as they are missing one of their men and one of the men gets away after Boris and his crew pull guns on the men. — Boris and Theo successfully retrieve the painting, Boris taking note of how Theo has his bird once again — But when returning to the parking garage to leave the two men who were absent earlier and one new man arrive with guns pointed, two of these men are killed by Theo and Boris but one man gets away with the painting — The next few days Theo is sent into a deep depression in his hotel room….however this ends differently varying from book to movie. In the book, Theo is urged to turn himself in to the police for murder … In the movie, Theo goes through with a suicide attempt by overdose but is forced to throw up the drugs later by Boris. Both versions end with Boris interrupting, calming Theo down, and telling the good news that he tracked the painting down in a house holding many more missing paintings and he sent in an anonymous tip to the police on these paintings and their location. Boris splits the reward money between his crew, Theo, and himself.

Boris makes a good partner to Theo as they get along, have a close history, make each other feel alive, know the do's and dont's / in's and out's of each other, show each other unconditional care, left a big positive impact on each others lives, and both share a deep love for art and beauty.

#donna tartt #the goldfinch #theo x boris #boris x theo #theo decker #boris pavlikovsky #boreo #book analysis #movie analysis #finn wolfhard #oakes fegley

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atticssmellgood · 1 year

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Hi, i'm from brazil and i often find it difficult to identify with the fic reader because they are usually american, could you make a spencer reid x foreign reader? it doesn't necessarily have to be Brazilian, any country is fine. Maybe he meets her at a bookstore in the foreign literature section and they start dating. kisses from brazil.

Call me?

Spencer Reid x Foreign!GN!reader(no specific pronouns)

Summary: Reader bumps into Spencer while looking for a book in the foreign language section.

Warnings: none!

A/N: Thanks so much for your request! I really hope you enjoy this, I tried my best. Let me know what you think! x

You push the glass door open, a bell acknowledging your presence as you step into the small book shop.

The silence enveloped you in an instant, drowning out the hustle and bustle of city life outside. You stand there for a second, reveling in the earthy scent of the old store. Books were laying in stacks that were scattered around the small area, giving the place a disorganized but oddly comforting appearance. Plants and a thin film of dust decorated the various windowsills, further assisting the creation of a homey atmosphere. A tired looking high schooler sat behind the cash register, reading what looked to be a popular YA novel and sipping from a Starbucks cup. She glanced up at you and gave a soft smile before diving back into her reading.

With that, you quietly make your way to the back of the shop, breezing through the aisles with light feet and only stopping when you reach the foreign literature section. You ghosted over some French novels, beginning to get lost in thought as you looked for books printed in Portuguese.

Moving to America had been a bit of a challenge at first, but after spending a couple of years in the country, you found yourself adapting to the culture and language differences with ease.

However, that didn’t stop you from getting homesick every once in a while.

The feeling had become less frequent as time passed but it never went away completely. Sometimes, when you got that sick feeling in your stomach, you would come back to this little shop and buy a book in your own language. You found comfort in seeing the familiar letters printed out on the delicate pages of books. You even read out loud from time to time, if only to hear the words spoken out loud. That’s precisely why you were here today.

Your fingers traced the various spines lining the shelves, your eyes reading the different titles. Russian, German, Spanish. You recognized the words even if you didn’t know what some of them meant. You continue to search, confident you would find something even more interesting than the last one you read. You were too focused on finding the right book to hear the bell on the front door ring, or notice the lanky man making his way towards the same section you were in.

You come across a small book, the title printed in Portuguese. It read; Capitães da Areia

“Captains of the sand, written by Brazilian author Jorge Amado in 1937. Tells the tale of a gang of orphans living on the streets of Bahia with nothing but their wits.”

You jump back at the sudden voice, snapping your head towards the source with wide eyes and clutching the book close to your chest.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you!” The man held his hands up as if he was trying to calm a wild animal.

“It was one of my favorite books when I was younger…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck and smiling awkwardly at you.

You laugh a bit. “No, no it’s fine, I can be pretty oblivious sometimes.” You grin back at him, watching as he brushes a lock of messy brown hair out of his eyes. “Thanks for the synopsis though, I don’t think this has a summary on it.” You flip the book over to the back only to find that you were indeed right, it was completely blank.

He laughed at the little frown you gave. “I’m Spencer, by the way.”

“Y/N”

The two of you stare at each other for a minute and you take the silence as an opportunity to survey his appearance.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this man was pretty damn gorgeous.

He was wearing a white dress shirt with a black button-up cardigan and dark slacks, the outfit being pulled together by a deep purple tie. His complexion was sharp, prominent cheekbones and a jawline that could cut diamonds, a stark contrast to his soft brown eyes. His hair was unruly, but it was strangely fitting. A messenger bag was slung across his torso, his hand gripping the strap.

Spencer cleared his throat in an awkward attempt to break the silence, effectively snapping you out of your thoughts.

“So, um, what exactly are you looking for?” You ask, hoping to ease the tension with casual conversation.

He seems to perk up at this “Oh, I was just seeing if they had anything new back here.” He glanced at the shelves and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Last time I was here, I only saw books that I had already read front to back.”

You think for a second before pulling a book from the top shelf and holding it out to him.

“Here, since I’m reading your favorite childhood book, you should read mine. Assuming you know Portuguese, of course.” He takes the book before looking back at you, confused.

“It’s only fair.” You say with a shrug.

Turning back to the shelves, you can’t help but notice the change in atmosphere. The quiet between the two of you is comfortable now. You watch from the corner of your eye as he skims over the different titles, pulling out a new book every few minutes. Every now and then you would catch him looking at you before he quickly turned his gaze back to the shelves.

“So….do you have a last name?” You ask.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you had a last name.”

“Oh, Yeah, It’s Reid.”

“L/N”

Spencer hums and goes back to his searching as you mule over his name in your mind, your lips moving as you silently formed the words.

Once you were satisfied with your book selection, you turn to leave, not wanting to disturb Spencer’s book-hunting. But just as you walk past him, he stops you with a light hand on your arm.

You look back at him.

His face is red, his lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something. You stare into his soft eyes, waiting for him to speak.

The eye contact seems to make him even more flustered, his gaze landing on the hand still on your arm.

“Um- I know we literally just met and we barely even talked and you have no reason to trust me at all and you probably already have a significant other or something-“

“Spencer, slow down, you’re talking way too fast.” You laugh, placing a hand on his.

“right, sorry.” He takes a deep breathe before speaking again.

“What I’m trying to say is- you’re really attractive, and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go for coffee sometime…?” He asked hesitantly, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You smile and pull out a piece of paper.

“Do you have a pen?” You ask. Spencer digs in his pockets for a writing utensil and hands it to you, his expression puzzled.

You quickly scribble something down before handing the paper to him and promptly leaving to go pay for your books.

Spencer looked down at the slip of paper to find your phone number with a little heart drawn next to it and the message;

Call me?

_________

“You know, the reason coffee wakes people up is due to the fact that caffeine increases adrenaline production.” You and Spencer were sitting across from each other in a small cafe, you listening to him list off the health benefits of coffee.

“Consuming around 2 to 5 cups a day is actually linked to a lower risk of developing type 2 diabetes, heart disease, liver and endometrial cancers, Parkinson’s disease, even depression.” He finishes with a smile and a sip of his black coffee. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then.” You grin in response.

You could honestly listen to his rambling all day. The way his eyes glinted with excitement when he talked about something he finds interesting, it’s one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen.

The date continued like that for a while. He told you he worked for the FBI in the behavioral analysis unit—turns out he’s actually the resident genius there—and you told him about your own job. He listened intently when you told him some of the stories from your childhood, laughing along with you when you told jokes. He insisted you told him more about Brazilian culture and your family back home, asking questions and seeming genuinely intrigued by everything you said.

“I think your accent is really soothing.” Spencer says suddenly. You immediately stopped talking, your face growing hot as you watched his eyes grow wide.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just really like the way your voice sounds.” You could see his face getting red, clearly embarrassed by what he had said.

“Thanks, though I have to admit that’s quite an unusual compliment.” You chuckle, suddenly hyper-aware of your accent. He laughs with you, and you soon get back to the conversation you were having.

You were currently on the topic of his team back at Quantico when his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket, frowning when he realized what it was.

“I’m really sorry Y/N, I’ve gotta go. We have a new case.” He sighed, grabbing his messenger bag and standing up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You tell him, finishing off the last drop of your coffee that had been cold for a while now. “I should probably get going anyways.”

He smiles and gives you a wave before heading out the door.

You left the cafe feeling lighter than you have in a while, grinning to yourself all the way home.

_____________

Sorry this isn’t really them dating, I can totally make a part 2 if you want! Please let me know🥰

#spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #foreign!reader #meet cute #fluff #first date #spencer reid x reader

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blitzor0de0 · 19 days

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Vox x Reader who’s apart of Alastor’s little friend group? Like they regularly join in on Alastor and Rosie’s gossip sessions, tea parties, and such

okay I lied about not posting today because I felt a lil guilty, this one is super duper short I'm so sorry I forgot how to write vox outside a radiosilence context 😭🙏

this one's also just rlly boring I've failed you anon the creative juices are just not there today ☹️

cw: brief illusions to former radiosilence because I'm sick in the head and they're all that remains, vox insecurity issues, this is more of a blurb than anything

word count: 0.6k

It's Nice To Have A Friend (Vox x Alastor's Friend! Reader)

When pursuing a relationship with the Technology Demon, you had anticipated all of his, let’s just say, pathetic attempts of trying to undermine and defeat your good friend, Alastor.

You were constantly talking his ear off about how sweet Alastor was, and how much of a gentleman he was towards you and Rosie. Frankly he was a little sick of it, known for his spouts of jealousy of the Radio Demon.

"I know you two had your qualms in the past, Vox." You sighed, giving him a small kiss. "I do scold him every time he gets ahead of himself regarding you. I'll defend you throughout the seven rings and back, even if that means standing up against the 'big, scary' Radio Demon, okay?" You smiled.

Vox felt his heart swell at that, he always had an inferiority complex when it came to Alastor. Sure Vox currently held immense power, he could hypnotise the entire city into his doing, they trust him. But Alastor was always held in such high regard , harnessing more power than he could ever imagine.

So, you being all buddy-buddy with Alastor, it frequently struck a nerve with the technology demon.

“I.. Uh. Thanks Y/N.. So does this mean you're not going..?” He grinned nervously, testing his luck, causing you to roll your eyes, flicking his screen lightly.

“Of course I'm still going, they're my friends, Vox.”

Vox knew he couldn't control who you were friends with — even if he really wanted to — so with a kiss and a hug, he bid you farewell for the day.

If it wasn't for his ‘mastermind’ persona, the attention whore of an overlord would be clinging to you like ivy to a long abandoned, yet regal building, like a child to their mother. Vox was incredibly touch and attention starved, you spending all the hours in a day with him still isn't enough to satiate and heal the old wounds left behind from your friend, his mortal enemy, Alastor.

Tea time with Rosie and Alastor was always splendid, chatting about what's been going on in your lives in the past fortnight since you saw each other last, delectable flaky pastries, and of course tea which always seemed to warm you down to your core. It was a breath of fresh air whenever you had these meetings, the stress of being in the Vee’s section of the city long gone as you're in the comforting aura of Rosie's Emporium.

Sometimes it shocked you with how revered the two overlords which sat around you were, they were consistently a delight to be around, how anyone could get on their bad side was shocking.. Well besides your lover, Vox.

Satan knows how many times you've heard that story from both parties.

But you weren't stupid, you knew Vox had eyes everywhere around the city, Rosie's Emporium was no exception. It was a sixth sense being able to feel his gaze upon you. You were unsure if Vox knew that you knew, but you didn't care. Vox knew you were safe, and you knew he was, too. It's all swell in your mind.

But all is well, you assure Vox of that constantly, relaying all the tea spilt over the course of your meetings to him, even if it's something as mundane as Vaggie's failure to create the hotel’s advertisement.

In a way, it gave peace of mind towards Vox, giving him a semblance of what his friendship with Alastor used to be like.

You hoped one day you could be a quartet rather than a trio, but you knew those days were far.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hh x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hh vox #vox x reader #vox x you #vox x yn #blitzor0de0

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p0rchc0ll4ps3 · 1 month

Text

random harry / jean pre-martinaise thoughts. headcanons mostly since the game doesn't give Much to go off. wrote this to gather my thoughts for how to write the jean/harry dynamic.

warning for suicide mentions and also dora is underage (17) when harry meets her. also abusive toxic relationships and domestic violence. also brief nsfw mention (just "they fuck" and that's it, nothing in-depth). also these people r homophobic

so jean:

Partnered with Harry from '46 to '49

officially met harry after dora left harry in '45. Never met dora. was aware of / had talked to harry b4 then, but they didn't work together

Partnered w Harry after a previous partner left Harry.

Only guy left (along with trant but jean forced trant to stay)

then Harry timeline maybe:

Met Dora when he was 23 and she was 17 in ’30. They lived together for 3 years. The first 2 years are perfect, happy, out of a dream.

Cracks start to form in the facade about year 3, but they try to work through it. But she’s young and naive. She convinces him to join the rcm bc he cares so much for revachol it hurts. Stop wasting your potential being a gym teacher, be a cop. Save the world

And he does he goes and joins. But then they start to run out of money. And he starts to lose it

Joined rcm in ’33 when he was 26

Did so many cases probably coz of stimulants + alcohol

Has had amnesiac blackouts in the past

In the beginning Harry's GOOD. Hes SMART. He manages. And then they load case after case on him. And hes already manic depressive as fuck (bc i hc him with bipolar i). So hes already working up a healthy alcohol addiction. Bc he and dora argue a lot.

After the first year or two, the arguments start to get more and more frequent. They’re not good for each other, but you don’t just Leave someone. You have to stick with them. And maybe dora also had hope he’d get better

But towards the end it’s toxic as fuck, she hits him, he hits her, they yell at each other. Toxic environment breeds toxic out of both of them.

She basically matured around him, under his influence, so it’s VERY abusive, and she starts to come into her own person and demand independence, and fight back, and he doesnt like that. And she also doesnt like it when hes sad and she TELLS HIM that. And he doesnt like that. Bc shes SHIT with his mental illness and not patient or understanding at all. Plus he's drunk and high so much, so as far as she’s concerned that’s why he’s like that (his manic and depressive; she blames it on the drugs and the drink) (ignoring the fact that he’s been this way since the beginning bc the first two perfect years remain without issue in her mind, even tho there are plenty of issues there)

Dora left him in ’45, 12 years after he joined the rcm.

She’s 38 in ’51, he’s 44. 6 year age gap. Were together for 15 years

Had a previous partner in the rcm from 33 to 46. 13 years working together!!!!!!! (Harry was 26 to 39; old guy (born in ’85) was 54 to 67)

Maybe an older guy who mentored harry. Like a real noir type of guy. Gets partnered with this new young guy bc hes really good at his job and harry can keep up. Was like. Yeah no I dont want to work with anyone anymore, but then theres harry and he needs a partner and the older guy is like fuck. I like this one lemme grab him. Bc he sees harry’s potential. They work REALLY well together. Old guy teaches harry a lot of shit. hes super bitter on the outside and hardened by life, and harry gets a lot of his vices from him. The guy’s a drunk old cranky bastard and no one wanted to work with him and they all thought oh this guy won’t lighten up. But he picks harry. And harry opens him up.

He’s really good with harry’s manic episodes. But it’s like. They bounce off each other, balance each other out. But also maximize the shit. Encourage the bad habits in each other

Old guy is shit with the depressive episodes. Harry says I feel like killing myself, old guy says go ahead and do it nothing in life matters

Harry got manic sometime in that time frame in the year and a half after dora left him and said FUCK this old guy. Fuck your cranky bitter awful ass youre dragging me down. Youre too old. You cant keep up with me. I want that one other guy (jean) bc he’s smart he’s young hes capable he can fix me. Fuck off, im working with jean now (maybe he and jean have had a case or 2 in the past that helped harry realize jean's potential)

So the old guy quit. He just ditches he’s like ok suffer whatever see if I fucking care. Imagine your partner of 11 years starts getting super pissed at you and now getting emotionally dependent on you and clingy as fuck the old guy just COULDNT handle that

harry was manageable in the beginning. it started to seriously go to shit when dora left him bc before he would go home and take it out on dora. so his work didnt see his bad side until he lost her. She was his anchor, his life, his rock, and when he lost her he had no fucking idea what to do. started to take out his issues on his coworkers instead

Jean again:

Jean has been in the rcm for a while, maybe since he was 20 in ’37? He’s a sensitive sort of guy in there, he feels how the world hurts, so he wants to help. But also he joins bc it makes him feel tough. He can push people around. Gives him an excuse to be a bully. See dad? IM TOUGH. Fuck you (he has major mommy/daddy child abuse issues. bc i hc him as having been a very sensitive kid who cried a lot. and got bullied by everyone for it, family especially. now he has a major superiority / not-man-enough complex)

Hes also Really good at his job. Hes happy doing housework!!! He likes patrolling and giving people tickets and doesnt want to do much else. plus he's very bonded to his horse. therapy horse

Jean is diagnosed by the lazareth for depression when he’s 27 bc he slips a little on his copwork I think.

Harry grabs him in ’46 when jean is 29, so jean does horse for 9 years, then 5 years of homicide with harry where he goes thru the absolute stress of his life getting thrown into lieutenant position completely unprepared for it

Jean is ok with harry at first bc he has hope, jeans a guy who hopes, and hes like ok harry will get thru this hes smart, but slowly jeans like ah fuck nope. This ones a lost cause. They work together for 4 and a half years!

Harry helps jean thru a breakup and is genuinely nice. I think harry slips into a manic episode when first working with jean and jean knows that side of him first, then he stabilizes, then sinks into depression again

In the 4 years they work together:

In the beginning of working with harry, jean breaks up with his girlfriend of like. 6 years. Who he’s known since ’40 when he was 23 (it’s '46 now and he’s 29). Harry helps him through it and jean gets really attached to harry coz of that

About 3 years in (in '49) they have homosexual relations. Ie they fuck. Bc harry gets really awful. Really starts slipping

And the case load is a LOT for jean. And he’s been thru 5 girlfriends in three years since that other one and it’s been shit. They’ve all left him bc he has to choose work over them (and also coz he's a crybaby but also coz he's super pushy and controlling)

And jean’s lonely as fuck. And he’s starting to drink too bc of harry. And bc of his influence. And they fuck and jean gets obsessed with him and he’s like fuck this is gonna’ wreck everything (there's a lot of internal homophobia here too). He really tries to be professional but it’s HARD when harry’s got so many ups and downs

Bc jean genuinely is there for and DOES help harry. Harry just. Keeps relapsing. Constantly. But jean keeps coming back bc Harrys so clingy and genuinely nice to him etc

Jean’s dealt with harry suicide attempts like so many times in this time period. Countless

But in ’49 b4 they fuck, harry tried to make a move on jean bc he really was getting obsessed with him, and jean denied him bc jean’s homophobic as fuck

A week later harry kills himself. Or. he’s supposed to be dead, but he doesn’t die somehow

That’s when he goes missing for a few days and jean finds harry in his apartment half dead. Tried to hang himself

They get SUPER codependent after that. And it gets toxic. Bc jean hates being emotionally vulnerable with another man and bc harry can get violent when rejected or just violent unexpectedly

There may be a jean suicide attempt in there too, but something like passively suicidal: doesn’t have a regard for himself or a sense of self-preservation. Harry’s had to save his life before, help him out of danger (and vice versa tbh)

Jean is more trigger happy than harry, so part of the reason harry has so few kills is bc jean took them. But also jean is really good at stopping harry. And ALSO harry just. Really doesn’t want to kill people. He talks first, shoots later (unlike Kim who shoots first, talks later). Hes a really competent cop, its just that his unmedicated bipolar ass and his work stress and his breakup issues and the jean codependency really drown him

i know there's definitely more going on here, and i could go earlier about harry (he's a child of divorce and learned a lot from his parents about how to treat a partner (ie yell and shout at her), he has a lot of trauma from working child labor and also from watching his friends die in his teens) but these r my basic vague thoughts rn

#anyhow #c4rg0f1l3s #disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers #ig? yeah maybe for dora? it's mostly headcanons #my writing #kinda'#harry du bois #jean vicquemare #dora ingerlund #do i need to put this under a cut??#disco elysium headcanons #i might get slack for this. ITS FINE. im trying to keep all my hcs very revacholcore im ngl #theres a specific way the game sets up its characters n i wanna try and capture that #scary still. lets see how it goes #marfă din elysium

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7-wonders · 2 years

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Lately I’ve been obsessed with the thought of you and Dream being in this passionate relationship when you’re in the Dreaming. You’re both completely (perfectly, incandescently) in love with each other, his subjects all adore you, the topic of marriage has even been broached a couple of times. You’ve been trying to convince him to come and visit you in the Waking; yes, you know that after the Burgess affair, Morpheus is hesitant to leave his realm. But you’d love more than anything to have him with you in your realm and his. “My waking life is so boring without you,” you frequently tell him.

And then you wake up. And who among us actually remembers their dreams when they wake up? If you do remember, it’s just distant memories upon first waking before consciousness fully invades and wipes those dreams away. When you get up and start your day, you don’t remember that you’re in love with the King of Dreams and Nightmares.

Sometimes you’ll remember certain flashes of dreams you’ve had. The feeling of soft skin under your fingertips, or the way that the sun shines on an unruly mop of black hair. Your head in someone’s lap, or the lingering feelings of pure happiness. Just a nice dream, you tell yourself when those random snippets float through your mind. A really nice dream.

In your waking hours, nothing in your life has changed to clue you in on the fact that you’re basically living a double life, half of which you have no memory of. Sure, your quality of sleep has greatly increased, and you find yourself going to bed earlier for reasons you’re not quite sure of. Besides that and the sudden appearance of crows (ravens, maybe; you’re not an ornithologist) wherever you go, everything is the same.

In your Dreaming life, however, Morpheus has finally given in to your requests for him to come see you. Since his one and only friend Hob Gadling was so pleased to see him for the first time in 100+ years when he appeared in front of him at The New Inn, he thinks it’ll be a great idea to surprise you the same way by meeting you at the coffee shop you like to work in.

Though he’s cool and nonchalant on the outside, Morpheus is eager on the inside. You just look so radiant in your element, head down as you read something at a table with one hand loosely clasped around the cup you’re drinking from. He approaches the table with his hands shoved in his pockets, coming to a stop in front of the empty chair facing you. “Is this seat taken?” he asks.

He’s expecting you to grin at him at the very least, maybe even jump up and wrap him in a hug like you’re always so fond of. What he doesn’t expect is the small smile that you force onto your face and the complete lack of recognition in your eyes as you begrudgingly say, “Uh, no?”

You must be teasing him, Morpheus thinks. That’s the only reason why you’re looking like you’re trying to remember if you’ve seen him before. When he sits down and reaches for your hand on the table, only for you to jerk it back, he realizes something is wrong.

“Sorry,” you say, “do I know you?”

Oh, something is seriously wrong.

Update 12/7/22: This has been turned into a two-shot! Part one is linked here, and part two will be posted soon!

#morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #morpheus #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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narzissenkreuz-ordo · 1 month

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wetrabbit has been on the brain so have some Thoughts that are floating around up there:

i'm still obsessed with the otter!Neuvi ideas, especially when Silvanus unknowingly to 'save' the little guy from running around in the streets of fontaine

so Neuvi has absolutely seen a side of Silvanus that does Not show up in a professional setting. some of its silly, silvanus is very neutral and serious about her job and otter!Neuvi gets to see her being soft and kind. but he also accidentally sees really Bad Things.

I know i've implied it mostly but, Silvanus' parents are abusive. emotionally and sometimes physically. and Neuvi witnessed things that he should Not have seen and it completely alters his perceptions and feeling about his involvement with humans

so some background on what happens leads up to this:

Silvanus' parents were always unreasonably harsh her, to meet up to family expectations and not to tarnish their reputation. The moment Silvie tries to object to anything, they shut her up by hanging up the fact that they pay for her medication, that she could not afford on her own salary.

the farthest she gets from any sort of freedom is her first internship @ Meropide. Being from a noble & well off family would not offer any advantages down there and would have to prove herself without outside help. Silvanus absolutely does not want her accomplishments being attached to the family name

and she DOES make it. Gets noticed by Wriothesley, who offers her a recommendation to the Fontaine Research Institute, which eventually gets her hired as Neuvillette's assistant

But being back on the surface and being employees by the most POWERFUL man in Fontaine, it has her parents FOAMING at the mouth wanting to use their son to build a relationship with the Chief Justice. And it makes her life a living hell, even though she is able to live on her own. She is still constantly hounded by her parents to introduce them to the Iudex. She tries so hard not to be visibly stressed: she likes her job but is also terrified of failing her parents by either not convincing Neuvillette or loosing her position.

So onto the actual Event:

Palais Mermonia absolutely holds some sort of holiday party that Furina organizes each year. The rich and wealthy always end up attending which is already bad new for Silvanus, being stuck with her parents for an evening at some work party. But then the bombshell that Furina was FINALLY able to convince Neuvillette to make an appearance so ALL the wealthy families are gonna try and swarm him to start some sort of business relationship, Including Silvanus' parents.

so the night of the part, Silvanus is trying not to shake like a frightened animal as shes trying to introduce them to Neuvillette

BUT SURPRISE. Wriothesley finally took up on his invitation offer after all these years, since he's been making more frequent trips to the surface to visit her (and Clorinde probably). and upon seeing the situation Silvanus is in, he strides up to them all and smoothly injects himself into the conversation; acting all surprised to see her again after soooooo long and introduces himself and talks up how awesome Silvanus is. Giving enough time for Neuvillette to slip away and be dragged away by the next person that wants to talk to him.

Later in the night, Silvanus slips away from the party quietly in hopes of avoiding talking to her parents after event ends. And Neuvillette has a similar idea and flees the party via his otter form. Silvanus runs into him, sweet talking this otter and picks him up and is about to lead the little guy outside of the city when her parents catch up to her.

And its an absolute mess. The two of them yelling at her in hushed whispers, berating her for allowing the Iudex to get away so quickly and other horrible things. At this point she's shaking again, holding otter!Neuvillette in her arms and attempts to fight back and stand her ground against them. But is does Not end well when one of them flat out slaps her and once again holds the fact that they are paying for her medication over her head. Which gets her to shut up and fall back into line, like she always does. Eventually leaving otter!Neuvillette alone to scamper back home.

And after witnessing that, Neuvillette is so shaken up by the whole thing. He is the Iudex and always keeps his distance from others, so no lapse in him judgement can happen. He knows people commit heinous crimes leaving their victims wronged, his duty is to appropriately judge those who break the law and keep the general population of Fontaine safe

But he has never actually SEEN such acts up front, no one knew he was there in hiding. and is absolutely shaken to his core.

And over the next few days his agonizes over the situation and the broader implications: was it right or wrong in not doing anything? Was he keeping his impartiality in place by not being involved or was he complaisant in the crime?

His whole perception of his role in human society was shattered and ends up having to reevaluate the last 500 years of his progress in understanding humanity.

He doesn't quite understand that this was the point where absolutely fell for Silvanus, and fell so hard. one mere mortal was able to completely alter his thoughts, feelings and overall existence...............

#oc: silvanus avenir #wetrabbit #ok i think this was the longest thing i wrong for these guys #holy fuck #but boy do i have Feelings on this.#yappin

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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I made this request a long time ago, but it doesn't hurt to try again...

I'd like to see the human or fae Nesta (it's up to you) losing her virginity with Cassian, it could be at the Mating Ceremony... Like I said I'm sure Nesta had this romantic dream of having her first time with the man she loves, so I'd like to give her this gift 🥰❤️

So, as usual, I cannot write succinctly. This is part one of (I think) a three part fic. It is set shortly after the war. Instead of letting Nesta spiral into depression, Cassian sees the signs that she's struggling and tries to help her. Nesta pushes and pushes at first in this part.

Recovery - A Post-ACOWAR Nessian Fic - Part One

The war had been a brutal, awful affair. One month had passed since Elain had driven Truth-Teller into the king’s neck. One month since Nesta sawed the knife through every tendon and bone then held his decapitated head aloft like a trophy. One long month of working to heal the wounds.

As soon as Madja gave the exasperated go ahead that he could be on the move again, Cassian had flown swiftly to Illyria. It was important that he be seen amongst his people during a time of grief to acknowledge their pain and carry the burden with them. Rhys was still seen as an outsider – not a true Illyrian – and Azriel never wanted to be part of their culture. It fell to Cassian to break the news to families that their sons were not coming home. That fathers had departed this world. Many families already knew – ones who waited and waited for a male to return but never did. Grief was different in everybody. Some walled it away, never willing to look at it for long. Others carried it with them through every moment. Grief could be a sharp point or a dull ache.

Illyria would heal from it as it always did. It never gave much time to grief or sadness. It always donned its armour once again and started anew, no matter how broken it felt on the inside. To show vulnerabilities was a weakness.

As Cassian stood in silence watching Devlon and his second cataloguing their cache of weapons, he understood what Rhys had meant when he’d called Nesta Illyrian. It wasn’t the brutality or backwards-nature. No, it was the way she could bury her feelings. Devlon had lost a son in the war, but continued on, hard-faced, never showing signs that he was breaking down.

Since the war, Cassian and Nesta had barely exchanged more than a few barked syllables. She shut down everyone. There had been a hope in those initial days of healing that Nesta might come to his bedside and seize an opportunity to be with him, but she never came. She never initiated their blunt conversations – though she didn’t seem to want to initiate conversation with anybody else either.

Their lives were a sequence of almosts. She had let him kiss her once as a mortal. She had worried for him at the battle in Summer Court. She had noticed his sprained wrist then tended to it with utmost care. She had shielded his body with her own and been ready to die at his side. Almost. Almost. Almost. They were always almost something, like fingers brushing past each other, outstretched hands never quite being able to gain purchase.

Nesta had isolated herself from the others. Cassian wasn’t even sure if the others had noticed that her appearances at dinner became shorter or less frequent. Nesta took to evening walks alone despite autumn waning and the winds becoming brisker. Sometimes Cassian would trail her and she’d head for a tavern or would sit alone on a bench. If she was meeting somebody, it would be different, but Nesta was always alone. When she departed taverns, her eyelids would be drooping, her steps sluggish and unsteady. If a male tried to speak with her, she ignored him and breezed past. If her father ever became the topic of conversation, she’d leave the room. Nobody ever noticed. Nesta moved like a ghost, content to be in solitude. Where Elain had once been lethargic and morose, she was now growing more confident and sociable. The elder sister, who had protected and cared for her, who had ensured she ate and was safe, wilted more each day. And sometimes it felt as if Cassian was the only one who saw it. Mor dismissed her as thinking she was too good for them. Feyre said that was always how Nesta was. Rhys had shrugged and said she was an Illyrian at heart. Nesta was broken. And she was doing an excellent job of masking it.

His flying took him back to Velaris. The trees stood as if Feyre had painted them in gold. A brisk wind carried fallen leaves up into the air and children leapt from pile to pile searching for the ones with the best crunch. He spied Nesta in one of her usual haunts; a bench facing the river in a secluded area. It was the furthest she could get from the graveyard where her father’s headstone lay.

Cassian would do anything to take that blank expression from her features. He’d take white-hot anger over this muted coldness. The spark had guttered out from her eyes. On the rare occasion that Nesta was present at their gatherings – which was usually when they unfolded in a room she had already been situated in and she would depart soon after they began – she would stare unblinking, as if it was an agony to be around them. There had been no sign of her powers since the war, no sign that Nesta was at risk of losing control. Amren had reached her hand out for her a number of times, but Nesta declined invitations, preferring isolation. Even Amren had no sympathy for Nesta anymore.

The bench was too far out of the city’s centre for it to be coincidence that Cassian had come across her, but he found that he didn’t care. If she snarled at him for following her, that tinder might bring her back to life.

He yawned loudly and plopped down on the bench beside her. One of his wings tracked a line across her bony shoulder. Usually, that sort of friendliness would be met with a hiss or a growl, but Nesta remained staring at the shining water running by as if she had known he’d been watching her for the last five minutes and expected his imminent arrival.

In place of the softness of her face was now hard edges and emptiness. She’d lost weight – too much for her size. Her hair was duller, lacking the usual golden shine. The nails on both hands had been gnawed to the quick, but she quickly tucked them away into her thin sleeves and drew her arms around her shaking body. How long had she been out for? Had the whole day been spent wandering the city alone like a lost soul? And they all just let her. They weren’t her jailers by any means, but where was the same care that they all nurtured for Elain and even Feyre when she first came to the Night Court? Who ensured Nesta ate and slept?

Nesta was a female of action, not words. There was no use trying to coax out a conversation when she barricaded all of her feelings behind an impenetrable fortress. Cassian slipped off his thick jacket and draped it across her hunched shoulders. Her body tensed. Nesta reminded him of an animal that had been hurt too many times. She sized him up, readying herself to either attack or flee. He held back his comments, held back any words at all as he tucked the jacket around her body and sat beside her.

For a while, they remained in the quiet with the only sounds coming from the gurgle of the river. The bustle of the city was diluted here too, but it could still be admired along with the stretch of mountains that the House of Wind was carved into.

‘I’m here. When you want me. When you need me. I’m here.’

Her brow drew downwards then she tightened the jacket around her body. When the street lamps were lit with their flickering yellow flames, Nesta stood.

‘Can I walk you home?’

Cassian knew better than to try and fly her. The few times she had flown since Rhys had flown her fast enough to vomit had been times of necessity, never for pleasure. Inviting her into his arms, as much as he wanted it, would not be well-received.

There was no reply nor did she wait for him as she began her steady march back towards the Town House. He matched her strides easily and was surprised when Nesta didn’t shoo him away. Her pace slowed slightly as if savouring the last inhales of the crisp city air.

A void had steadily grown between them. Too much time has passed since the war. The time to go to her side and assure her that his declaration hadn’t been meaningless had long since passed. It was a bitter regret that grew larger with each day.

The Town House was dark and cold when Nesta pushed open the front door. She stood in the hallway, blinking softly to adjust to the darkness. Cassian couldn’t decipher her expression – relief that nobody else was home or disappointment that nobody else was home.

‘First chilly night of the year,’ he said brightly. ‘I hated winter as a child. Different story as an adult.’

Nesta was already half-way up the stairs, not listening or choosing to ignore him.

When the click of her bedroom door echoed in the silent house, Cassian let out a pained sigh. Winter had been hell as a child. The days were cold but the worst of it was kept at bay with relentless training. The nights were painful, more about survival than anything else. For a little boy with nobody in the world to help him, he did not know how he had survived those brutal winters with a thin tent and a scrap of a blanket. He had always had hope. Hope had been that light which guided him through the worst nights; this mad dream that someday life would be better. And it had gotten better through chance. Through someone seeing him for the scared little boy who he was and reaching out a hand to help him.

He scrubbed at his face with his cold hands then knelt in front of the hearth to begin working a fire. Nesta needed help. It was a tight-rope of respecting her wishes or overriding them to do what was best for her.

The flames had begun to lick at a large log when Rhys breached his mind.

Where’s our favourite stray?

In your house, he replied. Where are you?

Dinner at the House of Wind. We’re all here. Come and join us.

Cassian’s stomach dropped. No, they weren’t all there. Nesta remained upstairs, discounted from the group.

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d flown up the stairs to her room and knocked on the wood. How many times had he hovered outside it in the past hoping she’d open it the moment he passed so they could have a verbal spar? That was before the war had changed her irrevocably. Now, he tip-toed past her room to ensure she was still breathing.

‘Nes, I’m headed to the House of Wind for dinner. Do you want to join us?’

When no answer came, Cassian gathered his courage and pushed the door open. The room was immaculate. Not a single item was out of place – not that she had much. Rhys had offered Nesta no end of employment opportunities within the Night Court, but she had politely declined each one. Elain received a small pouch of money each month from Feyre that she spent on different trinkets, flowers, and gifts for the high lady. Nesta’s own amount never seemed to be spent. More often than not, she tried to return the money to Feyre. A few books were stacked neatly on the desk, another was on her bedside table next to an oil lamp. She had opted for the smaller bedroom, giving Elain the larger. It was tidy and barely lived in. The bedsheets were pulled taut across the frame though Cassian knew she had asked Nuala and Cerridwen not to enter her room for cleaning, preferring to have her privacy. He and his brothers had joked that maybe she was messy and didn’t want people seeing her chaos. No, this room was Nesta in its entirety.

At the sight of him in her doorway, about to step onto the cream carpet in his boots, her eyes went wide. ‘Do not step in here.’

He could have wept now that he’d finally heard her speak for the first time that day. ‘Why? Who are you hiding under the bed?’

The light guttered out from her eyes again despite his teasing. He would not let it go out fully. Could not.

‘Are you coming for dinner? I’ll fly gently.’

‘No.’

‘Your sisters are there. You could bring back a few more books too. I’ll fly you back when you’ve-’

Nesta had risen. A small hope fluttered in his chest that she was accepting the invitation, but she merely closed the bedroom door then bolted it.

It stung. Cassian wished he could reverse time, go back to the days just after the war and go to her, even with his shredded wings. He should have sought her out sooner. Violence was brand new to her. He walked with death every day of his life; Nesta hadn’t.

Her footsteps hadn’t sounded, so Cassian knew that Nesta stood just behind the door still without making a move back to the bed. He couldn’t explain how he knew. It happened a lot though. He could fly from Illyria and happen to drift past the streets she’d walked, pick up on her scent, know which tavern she was in by some innate knowledge.

‘There’s a fire burning in the living room if you’re cold. I’ll put the grate in front of it. I’m heading out now.’

Not even the cool night winds could dampen the hot anger coursing through Cassian’s veins. Why wouldn’t Nesta let anyone help her? Even Elain had preferred to spend time with the group than with her elder sister recently. Nesta had successfully pushed everybody away. And Cassian couldn’t figure out why.

Night was creeping in earlier and earlier with the encroaching winter, so the red stone mountain stood as if aflame in the starlight. A couple of sconces had been lit along the landing roof to illuminate the path. One of his knees popped from the force of his landing there. He couldn’t shake the haunted image of Nesta sat bolt upright on her bed – likely where she’d remain until she slipped into the covers to sleep.

‘Evening.’

Azriel’s cold, flat voice made him jump. He whirled around, searching for his brother but saw only darkness. From the shadows, cobalt siphons came into view then he heard a low chuckle.

‘You need to stop skulking around in the shadows.’

‘I only do it to give you a fright.’

Cassian gave him a shove in shoulder. ‘I thought everybody was already here.’

Az nodded. ‘We are. I said I’d wait for you out here. If I have to hear the word darling again, I might hang myself.’

They were happy for Rhys, especially with what happened to him in the war – and all the ordeals prior. But, Cauldron, were their love-sick eyes beginning to grate. Mor blocked it out with wine. Amren blocked it out with Varian’s mouth.

Dishes were already laid out and the group had begun to serve themselves. It wasn’t malicious, Cassian told himself as he counted the number round the table. Lucien at one end, making hesitant conversation with Varian. Amren beside him. Mor beckoning to an empty seat beside her. Another empty one for Az. Feyre and Elain chatting about their day while Rhys twirled his fingers through Feyre’s hair. A happy scene. And yet Cassian couldn’t stop himself from asking the questions he already knew the answers to just to hear their reactions.

‘I thought we were all here.’

‘We are now,’ Mor said brightly, patting the seat again.

Az slunk past him into the chair, but Cassian planted his feet. ‘Where is Nesta?’

He had no issue with Varian, but that he was thought of in higher regard than Nesta rattled something loose in Cassian’s chest.

‘She wouldn’t want to come,’ Feyre explained.

‘So did you invite her?’

Rhys waved a hand to pile all of Feyre’s favourite bits onto her plate. ‘We’ve invited her to many and she always refuses. Let’s eat.’

But Cassian couldn’t. How could he enjoy himself when Nesta sat alone in the Town House, broken and defeated? How the hell did he even think flying here was a good idea?

‘I can’t stay,’ he said, turning on his heel. ‘Enjoy your dinner.’

Their voices carried down the corridor in an indistinct clamour. Cassian ignored it all. If he didn’t go to Nesta now, tomorrow it would just be another regret, another strike of the chisel against that ever-growing void between them.

One of Nesta’s books had been placed on the arm of the chair in the living room but her scent was faint, as if she had only been in the room for a few moments. The fire still burnt though no new wood had been added to it since he left. Perhaps Nesta did not even know how to take care of a fire. He didn’t know. Didn’t know such basic things about her despite knowing if they were to die on that battlefield, it would have been together.

A quick search of the house indicated that Nesta had gone back out. And in heartbeats, Cassian was following her scent of soft vanilla mixed with jasmine. Once he’d crossed two bridges, he knew exactly where she was headed. There was a tavern she favoured more than the others although he could not think why. It had a reputation for being rough, the drinks cheap but watered down, and the owner to be a vile male.

Sure enough, Nesta’s scent went right to the door where it mingled with the smells of strong alcohol and unwashed bodies. It was the worst district of Velaris. But Nesta wouldn’t know that. Nesta knew so little about their world.

For a moment, Cassian deliberated his entrance, not wanting to invoke her anger. But he decided that anger was a far better alternative to nothing, or to her being hurt by a patron.

Nesta sat in an alcove, already with a fair-haired male sitting close to her on the bench. One arm was draped around her shoulders, speaking into her ear. Her own hands were clutched to a glass of spirits poured over ice. Two empty glasses were already on the table, but the male was drinking ale from pewter tankards. It was not jealously burning in his chest, Cassian decided. Nesta disregarded the male with the same revulsion she seemed to have for everybody at the moment, but letting him sit so close and wrap an arm around her was novel.

‘Time to go.’

Chatter had died down as he’d pulsed through the tavern seeking Nesta. Even if he had not stepped foot in this establishment before, Cassian was recognisable by sight. Word of the war had spread too. The eyes that landed on him then shifted to Nesta, knowing her as the Cauldron-born Kingslayer.’

'I’m not ready to leave.’

Cassian’s wings twitched in response to her voice. ‘I was talking to him.’

The male had paled somewhat before scurrying back to whatever table he’d originally come from. Cassian took his seat, giving Nesta a few inches of space. Her hand splayed out on the table, ready to push herself upwards. He gripped her wrist. It was rash, ill-thought out. Nesta had stopped breathing. Her eyes were fixed upon his tanned hand around her slender wrist. The last time he had touched her, had been to cradle her face and kiss her.

I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you in the next world - the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.

Because he could, because they had time now, Cassian stroked his thumb along her pale skin as his grip loosened. If she had pulled away now, departed, it would have been a rusty knife through the ribs. Nesta stayed. Her grey eyes still traced the path his thumb took.

‘What can I get you?’ A rough voice asked.

‘Two meals. Whatever is quickest.’

When the male had returned to the bar, Nesta frowned. ‘I don’t want to eat.’

‘Your body needs to,’ he said with finality.

Soup was the quickest. He had judged the place too harshly; the food was hot, pleasant to taste, and the dishes were clean enough. Nesta sat with her arm folded across her chest, dutifully ignoring the meal in front of her.

‘What can I offer you to get you to eat that?’

‘You could leave me alone for a start.’

It was a stupid idea that would not benefit him in the slightest, but Cassian offered, ‘Fine. You eat all of it. Even the bread and I’ll leave you alone.’

‘How long for?’

‘Until tomorrow.’

‘Evening.’

‘Deal.’

***

Over the next few days, Cassian fell into a strange series of agreements with Nesta. He never saw her. Never spoke to her. He hated it – but it was for her own good. He ensured Cerridwen and Nuala brought food to her room for dinner and he’d knock on her door a short while later. Nesta would ignore him, but when he went back a few minutes later, the dishes would be outside the door with only crumbs or smears of sauce remaining as evidence of the meal. She was beginning to eat breakfast too. Cassian would knock on her door in the morning before he flew to Illyria, threaten her that if she didn’t eat breakfast then she had to spend time with him, and the door would open a few inches, a hand would shoot out for the bowl of porridge then it would be left outside a short while later.

It was a stupid deal. He ought to have been offended that the threat of his company was so abhorrent to her, but if it made her eat regularly, Cassian found that was better. He’d much rather be ignored and Nesta was healthy than sit with a ghost who faded more each day.

‘How long will you two play this game for?’ Rhys mused.

‘It’s not a game,’ he replied shortly, readying himself for a rainy flight to Illyria. He’d promised an older female who’d lost her husband in the war that he’d help her stock up her woodstore ready for the winter.

‘Well, if you can, find out what’s wrong with the fireplaces.’

‘What?’

Rhys leafed through a number of documents on his desk absently. ‘She grew quite cross when Nuala lit a fire in her room a couple of days ago.’

‘She doesn’t like them going in her room.’

‘She also put out the fire in the living room not long after Cerridwen lit that one. And refused to let her light it again until Feyre came home then she returned to her room.’

Cassian catalogued that information in his mind. Another thing to bargain for though he didn’t have much to offer except his absence.

His day in Illyria stretched on and on. He felt too guilty to not help the others who needed it. There were so many females without males to help them in the approach of winter. Ones that could purchase their own firewood struggled to carry it far. His entire day was spent taking on chores whilst Nesta rattled through his head.

When he returned to the Town House, he found it empty. There were no signs that Nesta had eaten dinner – and the others were likely up at the House of Wind having theirs. He was struck by the cruelty of it, that even if Nesta wanted to join them, she had no way of accessing the house – and the Cauldron knew she was too proud to ever ask somebody to take her.

He sought out one of the wraiths in the kitchen and did his usual interrogation of Nesta’s dietary habits.

‘She left this morning.’

‘Left where?’

Nuala blinked at him with her large, dark eyes. ‘I do not know. There was a note for the high lady, but they have not been home to read it.’

Heat flooded his body. ‘Did she give any suggestion of where she was going? When she’d be back?’

This was the longest conversation he’d ever had with the twins – a fact both of them seemed to realise by the uncomfortable tension settling in. For Nesta, he would put that to one side.

‘I do not know,’ she repeated. ‘But she did take her belongings with her.’

Not caring if he was just a base-born brute from Illyria, Cassian tore into Rhys’ study and ripped open the letter that Nesta had left on the desk for Feyre. His eyes scanned the page. Every word of the elegant handwriting had his heart dropping further.

Dear Feyre,

Thank you for your hospitality. I have found my own lodgings and will spend a few days settling in. I will contact you soon with my new address.

Nesta.

The formality was jarring; it was a letter from a stranger, not a sister. Where would she go? Surely, Nesta would stay in the Night Court? He couldn’t calm the erratic flurry of his heart enough to think straight. Logic should have had him swooping for the House of Wind. Sense should have had him respecting Nesta’s wishes – or not shredding the envelope before Feyre had even known of the letter’s existence. Where Nesta was concerned, Cassian had no sense or logic, only passion. That was the reason he barrelled from the house, disregarding the foul weather, to search for Nesta.

He picked up her scent near her favourite tavern, but instead of leading to the entrance, it diverted paths down the grubby, cobbled streets in the northern portion of the city. The buildings here were old and crumbling in parts, built on top of each other like weeds fighting for sunlight. He’d told Rhys to tear it down decades ago. This was not a place for Nesta to be. Not a home. Then again, she had lost every home she had ever had.

‘Why are you here?’

There was no surprise on Nesta’s part. No, if she shared the same instinct as him, then likely she had known he was approaching long before his steps echoed in the stairwell.

‘The thing is,’ he drawled, ensuring his foot was jammed into the path of the door in case she tried to block him out. ‘You didn’t eat dinner today which means I am allowed to burden you with my presence.’

‘It’s not a burden.’

‘It’s not?’ Cassian swallowed.

‘No. It’s as enjoyable for me as stepping on a rusty nail. As thrilling as watching a fallen tree rot.’

‘Good,’ he declared, bypassing her sarcasm and forcing the door open to allow himself entry.

‘Out.’

‘Can’t do that, sweetheart. You didn’t keep up your end of the deal, so I won’t be keeping up mine.’

There was a tired, sagging settee in the small living room that likely came with the apartment. The kitchenette was grubby with long-standing oil stains splatted on the tiles. A threadbare rug had been strewn haphazardly in front of the empty hearth. There couldn’t be a place that was more of the opposite of Nesta than this one – and Cassian’s heart sank to see her stood in the centre of the tiny apartment.

Rain rattled on the thin window panes. One was even broken and soggy newspaper had been stuck over the cracks. A wind rattled through the gaps in the rotten frame.

‘I can teach you how to light a fire.’ He gestured to the hearth although there was no wood or tinder in the stores.

Nesta’s face paled. ‘No.’

‘It’s freezing in here, Nes.’

‘I’m fine.’

She wanted to push him away. She was trying as best she could. Cassian would be as stubborn as he knew how to be. The only way she was getting him out of that apartment was if she physically managed it.

‘Need any help unpacking? Or cleaning?’

‘I don’t want anything from you. Leave.’

‘Eat dinner and I’ll leave.’

Nesta grimaced at the sight of the stove that she hadn’t yet scrubbed.

‘I have a new deal. If I get us food and bring it here, will you eat with me – then I’ll leave you alone?’

‘Why do you care?’

What could he say to that question? That since Nesta had stepped into his life, all other females were mere shadows as a result. There was no other that could ever bewitch him like she could. And with every passing day he became more regretful that he hadn’t gone to her after the war when she had needed him – needed anyone – to help her through the weight of her father’s death.

‘I care about you.’

She flinched from those words. His heart crumbled further. Not waiting for a response, he called over his shoulder that he would be back soon with food. He passed a screwdriver laid to one side where Nesta had screwed a new lock onto the door. Beside it were another two locks needing to be installed. If she thought that she needed four locks to keep her safe then Cassian wanted to bundle Nesta into his arms and carry her back to the Town House.

They ate quietly. Without a table, they ate with plates on their laps. Still, Nesta refused a fire even when she’d drawn a blanket over her lap and shivered with cold. He was glad to see her eating although she pushed her food around her plate and seemed to force down each mouthful. Cassian coaxed her to eat more with the promise that he’d depart when the plate was clean, however when that happened, Nesta did not shoo him from her sight. Not immediately at least. Instead, she searched for her cloak in the bedroom then a pair of boots.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out,’ she replied shortly.

Nesta’s hand enclosed on the handle and she held the door open expectantly for him to leave. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, ‘I can help you. Put the locks on the door. Put a peg here for your cloak. I’ll fix anything here like the window. I can paint if you need it pa-’

‘Why?’

It was less a question, more a demand.

‘Because I want this to be a home for you.’

The corner of her mouth quirked up. ‘A home?’ A bitter laugh followed and Nesta gestured to the darkened corridor again as a sign it was time he departed.

Again, Cassian was bargaining for her health. If she ate three meals then he’d fix the leaking tap in the bathroom. If she waited for him at the tavern so he could safely walk her home then he’d repair the cracked tiles around the fireplace. All of these things, he’d have willingly done for her if she’d asked, but Nesta was too proud to ever ask for help, least of all from him.

#nesta x cassian #nessian #recovery

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annasinterests · 10 months

Text

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

prologue

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: i am VERY excited and nervous to finally be posting on tumblr after having it since like,, 2014,, which is embarrassing as hell to admit.. but fuck it we ball! anyways, here is my first ever fic i'm sharing on this platform. i tend to write up a lot of things but have always been too intimidated to post them, so this is me trying to get over that! also, please know that this piece is completely optional. i only wrote it to give context on the relationship reader and joel have, plus ellie as well, but you absolutely can skip past it if that's not your cup of tea, or check back in later once i post more chapters! also, please bear with me as i get used to posting and including all the necessary tags and warnings & whatnot.

word count: 2.7k

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, swearing, mentions of violence & death, canon events, strangers to friends, friends to lovers? (we'll find out), slowburnish, pining, age gap (14-ish yrs) — please tell me if i missed anything!

You'd been at each other's side for nearly seventeen years, first meeting when you arrived in the Boston QZ almost eight years after outbreak day. To say you were a hardened survivor was putting it lightly; you had endured every unimaginable loss possible. Tragedy became a constant companion of yours as you lost beloved friends and family, and you grew to know nothing but anger and violence.

At first, you thought nothing of him. He was just your neighbor across the hall, coming and going at all different points throughout the day and night. Another face in the sea of struggling people. Your paths occasionally crossed during the same shift of the same shitty jobs FEDRA assigned for a cruel amount of ration cards. You'd exchange brief nods every so often, and on the rare occasion, a mutter that was only decipherable as a greeting.

On a chance encounter beyond the walls of the QZ, you ran into him with another woman during one of your smuggling runs. You had frozen, with no indication of the kind of people they were, they could've either kept it to themselves or reported you, essentially sentencing you to death. Thankfully, a higher power had been on your side that day as the woman had concluded you weren't a threat to them, simply giving you a nod before they carried on. It was a subtle understanding that passed around you three. You worry about your business, and I'll worry about mine.

Things shifted after that.

The more you would see them, either together or separately, the more of a connection began to form. It started off small– bowing your heads at one another in passing, giving the faintest of smiles. Notes would be slipped under your door from time to time with a tip regarding stashed goods or potential dangers within the QZ and outside of it. It would be signed off by 'Tess' or 'Joel', with Tess being the more frequent sender. In return, you'd do the same, leaving helpful tips and sometimes doubling what they had left for you.

It graduated to in-person visits, primarily initiated by Tess. Joel kept his distance for the most part, despite literally living across the hall. That didn't mean that his lingering gaze went unnoticed by you, though.

Over the next twelve years, you banded together as a trio. Trust was one of the rarest commodities to come across, and you had found it in one another. Over time, your walls had come down, and you shared parts of yourself that had been long buried for years. You’d engaged in casual conversations, tactical strategies, and even light-hearted banter at times.

Smuggling operations became a team effort, though often it left you to work with Joel alone. Tess would go off on her own for recon, utilizing her expertise and connections to gather vital information, also because she was way more likely to be reciprocated in her efforts compared to Joel. Nonetheless, you formed a formidable duo, working seamlessly together to navigate the dangers when they presented themselves.

There became an unspoken understanding between you and Joel that communicated in volumes. You developed a rhythm, anticipating each other's moves and providing support when it was needed the most. A dynamic that had set your relationship apart from Tess.

Through the long nights, you both shared snippets of your lives before the outbreak. He spoke of growing up in Texas, the memories of a time when life was normal and filled with simple pleasures, like playing guitar. He mentioned a distant brother, Tommy, who was somewhere out west. He'd worked as a contractor, though dreamed of building something of his own. He spoke with a hint of regret, remembering the long hours he worked while still struggling to make ends meet. Reluctantly, he'd even shared the fact that he had a daughter, though he hardly said her name or other details. The most you learned was that he had a daughter, and then he didn't.

You enlightened him about how you lived a calm life. You grew up in the mountains, which explained your affinity for nature, and you found solace in music. You had both your parents and a brother, who was your closest ally. If one of you were doing something, the other tagged along with no questions asked. It was a month in to your last year of high school when outbreak day came along, forever fucking up your life. You recounted the graphic and harrowing moments of loss, the pain of watching your loved ones fall one by one in the span of two years. The next four years were spent traveling alone in search of a place to close your eyes without fearing that something was coming for you, whether it was alive or dead. Through whispers on the road, you heard of the Boston QZ, one of the remaining zones that retained enough stability. You didn't believe it, deeming it as something that was too good to be true after the world had been so cruel to you, but what else did you have to lose?

You still carried on your work the same, but it was clear that your relationship had shifted once again, this time more personally. He looked at you differently, like he was truly seeing you in a way no one else ever had. It showed in the way his voice was softer when he spoke to you and became overall more attentive towards you. He'd stop by your place more often, either sticking around for a few minutes or several hours. But it was in moments of vulnerability that spoke to the depth of your relationship. When you suffered serious injuries that left you barely conscious, he was there without hesitation. With gentle hands and meticulous care, he'd clean and patch you up, letting you rest your weary body against his for however long you needed.

You couldn't deny the growing affection in your heart for him by the frequent moments in which you felt a closeness that went beyond friendship. There was an unspoken intimacy, a silent understanding of the uncharted territory your hearts were treading, saying stay with me, and, why wouldn't i?

Insert Ellie into your lives. A young, electrifying girl from the Fireflies, a group you'd come to loathe.

You three had been on your way to find Robert, the dickbag that sold your guns, when you got caught in a scuffle between FEDRA and the Fireflies, being forced to flee and take an alternate route, leading you right to Marlene, Queen Firefly, as you liked to call her. Upon discovering she had your guns, she proposed an exchange: Smuggle a girl out of the QZ for the guns. You and Joel scoffed at the idea, immediately wanting to call it off, but somehow, someway, Tess convinced you both to go forward with it.

She was everything you expected her to be at first; unaware and a liability. She eyed you three cautiously, not really okay with the idea of leaving Marlene, but not having another option to go with either. In pushing towards the capitol, you reminded her of what felt like every five minutes to stay down, stay quiet, and do exactly as told as Tess led and Joel trailed behind.

After several attacks and encounters with infected, the true reason was revealed as to why Marlene needed the fourteen-year-old smuggled out: She was immune to infection. Even after the girl's explanations of finding a cure in a lab out west, you shook with laughter in disbelief. How many times had you heard this shit before? Tess, seemingly the only one to believe her, executively decided to push forward, earning disconcerted looks from you and Joel.

You couldn't have said you were surprised when you turned up to the empty capitol, the Fireflies once again proving how they were fucking unreliable as always. Your smugness quickly turned to mild panic as Tess began to have a meltdown, ultimately confessing her bite that made time stop ticking for you. Fuck.

It had been sixteen years since you last lost someone you cared about in the same way, your ability to react and process was nonexistent, so you just stood and stared as if it would disappear. With FEDRA looming beyond the doors, Tess had urged you both to take Ellie and find Tommy, find a way to get her to that damned lab.

So that's what you did.

The first few months were rough on all three of you. You faced infected, as expected, but it was harder to deal with each other more than anything. Ellie tried to find where she stood with you and Joel, wanting to help at every turn but keeping her head down to stay out of the way. You respected how she held her own and didn't take shit from Bill when stopping through his town, and how she handled losing people as quickly as she met them, like Sam and Henry. Despite her efforts, you often found Joel not letting up, only praising her once in a blue moon.

You realized it wasn't so bad after all, being with Ellie. She had spirit and faith, traits you hadn't seen someone possess in quite some time. In her presence, you found yourself rediscovering the capacity for joy and laughter, something that had felt distant and unattainable for far too long. You watched as she got to see and experience things in her life for the first time, like walking through forests; things that you had taken for granted. Her needs, before a burden, had now become a responsibility you willingly tended to, making sure she was the first to eat, drink, and sleep at all times. Each night, you watched her drift off, knowing she was protected by you and Joel and catching a feeling of a profound sense of purpose.

Stumbling into Tommy and his crew wasn't the reunion that you hoped for when fall rolled around. Ellie and Joel's relationship had taken a turn when she caught wind of him wanting to leave her with Tommy, figuring that he could do a better job, though you disagreed. Consequently, it led to her and Joel getting into an argument while you and Tommy awkwardly lingered outside of an abandoned ranch house. And though you were outside, you could still hear bits and pieces, finally hearing the name of Joel's daughter and understanding the pain that shaped his actions towards Ellie.

Upon coming to Eastern Colorado University weeks later, the Fireflies once again proved to be unreliable in staying in a fucking singular location. While you found scattered recordings that indicated them to be in Utah, you also found yourselves caught between hunters and infected, leading to yet another one of the traumatizing moments in your life: Joel falling off a second story and being impaled in the abdomen by a jagged piece of rebar. You and Ellie had managed to defend yourselves while also protecting Joel, talking to him through gritted teeth and coaxing him to move, repeating the words like a mantra.

The winter had been particularly cruel that year, leaving you short on food. You and Ellie had eventually found shelter in an abandoned lake house, securing Joel and carefully tending to him for the following weeks. Deep down, you knew Joel's body couldn’t continue fighting sepsis without proper medicine, and the thought of him dying brought you to near tears. While out hunting alone, you had run into two men. They’d traded you medicine for the deer, but not without leaving you with the eerie fact that they knew you, and knew you killed their men back at the university. You had fled back to Joel and Ellie as quickly as possible, sticking the syringe in him with shaky hands as you urgently warned her to be ready to face danger once again.

Your gut instinct had been right as the next morning you had heard the sound of people nearby, scrambling to tell Ellie to stay with Joel while you led them away and strictly emphasizing that she was not to leave. As you lured off and killed a few hunters, they unfortunately bested you, knocking you out cold and dragging you back to their settlement. You had woken up in a makeshift cage, with your weapons gone and zipties bounding your hands and feet together, as David watched you from afar, speaking to you in a tone that drastically contrasted the words he spoke. You fought through the grogginess, your mind was only set on one thing: Finding Ellie and Joel, alive. Discreetly, you had broken out of the restrictions and kicked out the gate, grabbing the broken chain and slinging it at him as you escaped.

You hid in abandoned storefronts and evaded your enemies, silently taking down the ones that drew too close with makeshift weapons and leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. The harsh snowfall made it all the more challenging, obscuring your vision and forcing you to rely on your sense of sound. When you went to strike at another body, you were caught off-guard as strong hands seized your wrists and pinned you against the wall. At the realization that it was Joel pressed against you, tears brimmed in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, thanking whatever higher power there was for bringing him back to you.

Together, you had found Ellie in a burning restaurant, rushing in to see her hacking away at David. Joel ripped her away from him, her cries and pleads tearing you apart. You fell to your knees as she wept out, taking her into your arms as Joel held the both of you, smoothing her hair and whispering soothing reassurances. It was in that moment that you realized that you and Joel had become more than just a guardian for this young girl. There was an understanding that you both would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

A feeling of disappointment had set in when Ellie declined Joel's offer to go back to Jackson after arriving in Salt Lake City. After what she had gone through, you saw that she felt an obligation to finish what brought you all together in the first place. While navigating through flooded streets, you were faced with rescuing and resuscitating both Joel and Ellie as they became trapped underwater and falling unconscious, the moments blurring together all too fast before you'd been knocked out by two Fireflies from behind.

You had woken up to Joel in a hospital bed next to you, along with Marlene. The Fireflies had set up base at the St. Mary's Hospital, not too far from where you were clocked. Through Marlene you learned that Ellie had been okay, but was immediately taken in for surgery. When you had asked how the procedure would play out, Marlene hesitantly explained that Ellie's brain was at the center of it all, and you had put the pieces together that it all pointed towards death. Both you and Joel grew angry and had protested that another way had to be possible, but of course, Marlene disregarded and ordered for your leave.

What followed in that hospital became yet another turning point in your relationship, not only with Joel, but Ellie too. You were both aware that once you killed the first person in your way, that there was no going back.

And nothing made more sense.

Not a living soul made it out of that hospital except for you, Joel, and Ellie. The chance couldn't be taken that you'd be tracked or followed. So, you returned to Jackson in one piece, and held a secret that only strengthened your bond to each other.

You had moved into the last house on Rancher Street, a decent sized home with a separate garage and fenced in yard. Joel took up the bigger bedroom upon your insistence, and the garage converted to a space designed just for Ellie. You found work in patrol, with Joel and Tommy, and administration by Maria’s side.

It undoubtedly marked a new chapter; no more traveling, no more searching, no more sleeping with one eye open. You had food, clothes, and a roof over your head, in a thriving community, moreover.

Everything had fallen into place, just like it was supposed to.

And you, Joel, and Ellie were finally safe.

Right?

if you read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart! i hope you'll continue to stick around for their story. feedback is appreciated <3 y'all have a lovely day!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #annasmasterlist #annawrites

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thats-not-okie-dokie · 7 months

Text

I turned myself into a puppet!

In other words, meet my puppetsona for Welcome Home. This is Oaksley, a shy and imaginitive nerd who writes novels for a living. He runs a library with shelves absolutely lined to the brim with books. Though, he has a hard time enforcing any due dates for late books because he hates confrontation and would rather jump off a cliff than have an argument with someone. He's the introverted type who likes to hide away in a good book and curl up by a fireplace. That's not to say he isn't a team player, because he can easily be dragged into things by the other neighbours. He's lenient to a fault and insecure about himself and his actions. He couldn't crack a joke on the spot to save his life, but he will absolutely infodump for hours if given the chance

As for his dynamics with the other neighbours, I have the full list:

Barnaby would be constantly making bad puns about poetry and book titles, and sometimes visits his library just to make jokes about the titles and covers, much to Oaksley's chagrin, since he does not have an inside voice. It disturbs anyone else who is quietly reading in there, but he can't build up the courage to kick Barnaby out, since he does occasionally say something he finds funny and checks out joke books in the end. Oaksley's tried riding on his unicycle once (because Barnaby kept egging him on until he relented) and crashed into one of the neighbour's houses. He hasn't tried since, and almost broke his nose because of that

Wally is a fellow artist, so they gravitate towards each other whenever either of them are low on inspiration. As seen above, Oaksley will read a part of his latest story out loud and Wally will paint what is described. Wally has tried to show Oaksley how to draw before, and he sometimes scribbles on his papers when he gets bored because of this. Wally's always excited to see these sketches. They have a mutual agreement to go and ask for help together if something is wrong or if either of them have a problem. Wally helps Oaksley feel less alone as an introvert and gently nudges him to advocate for himself. Wally is one of the few neighbours Oaksley actively goes and visits first instead of being approached by them instead.

Frank and him get along pretty well, and he's a frequent visitor at the library. Think of a favourite customer sort of deal. He's the non-fiction to Oaksley's fiction, and they get into friendly debates often, especially when Oaksley's reading him a manuscript of his stories. Frank points out every scientific inaccuracy and Oaksley justifies them, usually by explaining it away as magic or that it HAS to happen for the plot to move forward. Frank voluntarily helps him organise the library books when others mess the shelves up

Sally barges in to drag Oaksley into her plays sometimes, and he doesn't like it. He's a writer, not an actor, and she's constantly telling him to be more expressive and confident in his performances. He'd much rather stick to the sidelines and watch other neighbours perform. Sometimes, she'll steal his glasses, because she finds that he's more expressive without them. In reality, it just makes him freak out because he can barely see anything. She manages to reach the end of his slow temper the most often. They don't get along that well. On occasion, he does ask Sally for writing advice for character dialogue, since she can act out what's being said and they can guage if it sounds natural, and she makes suggestions for changes. Mostly, he tries to avoid her as much as possible in fear of being picked on

Julie is similar, but Oaksley tolerates her a LOT more. He's not big into physical activity and games, but her energy manages to get to him, and it makes him more outgoing and willing to try them. He loves when they settle down for board games or word scrambles. She's like the extroverted friend who carries Oaksley outside and gets him to go to places besides the library or quiet spots. She's the reason he managed to get to know every neighbour well, since she introduced him to everyone when he first got to the neighbourhood and left NO room for awkward avoidance or hesitation. They can be found together if Julie disappears for a while

Poppy treat him like a son. He always gets some of her freshly baked cookies, and he never manages to startle her because of his soft spoken voice and attitude. Though she can be very overprotective because of this, and he has to reassure her that he can do things on his own. He gets a lot of hats and scarves from her, often inspired by the stories he tells. They write and knit together by a fireplace in comfortable silence as music plays from a radio. He visits her whenever he needs to have a break, and Poppy's happy to oblige

Eddie is someone he doesn't get to see as much, since he's constantly running around, but he requests for more notebook paper from his post office whenever his stack runs out. It's a nightmare for Eddie at times when he's particularly inspired and in the zone. They are both very scared of bugs, so they can relate to each other a LOT whenever one of them startles or leaves a room because they noticed one crawling around somewhere nearby. I imagine that Oaksley used to work for Eddie as an assistant before he founded his library, so they know each other very well as co-workers

Howdy gives him a hard time when he comes around to his shop. Oaksley can't crack jokes in an instant like Barnaby can, and he always needs a few minutes to come up with one. They often fall flat, and Howdy just gives him what he's buying out of pity because Oaksley starts getting really flustered that he can't get it right. Howdy is quite intimidating to him. He talks fast, and he has a hard time comprehending everything that he says all at once. He'll blankly blink at Howdy after he says a big paragraph of words and stutters a response out. Howdy will often compare how he reacts to Wally, because he just stares, but he's very thankful that he's not an apple thief like the former

#art #welcome home #wally darling #sona #wh sona #puppet #well here goes nothing #here he is!#digital art #howdy pillar #barnaby beagle #julie joyful #sally starlet #poppy partridge #eddie dear #frank frankly

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haileymunson · 2 years

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concert after party

eddie munson x reader

warnings: SMUT (i promise i’m planning on making fluff don’t hate me), unprotected sex, drinking, drug use, face sitting, and eddie being a lil jealous of a guy who approached you

Gareth opened another bottle of booze from his dad’s basement as Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and the other band members raised their red solo cups. Everyone was super stoked about Corroded Coffin’s show last night, doing better than shows for drunks and old ass men. It was totally worth it, a huge crowd cheering them on after the show, even wanting an encore.

I could see Eddie face light up as the crowd went insane. As he look through the crowd our eyes met, my proud eyes matching my unfazed smile. His smile grew instantly feeling the love from not only his new fans, but his girlfriend.

Gareth poured the liquor in all of their cups, and I politely decline as there needs to be one sober person in the group. Watching and keeping up with these crazy ass children was hard on me.

Our small group gathered in Gareth’s house, luckily his parents were out for the weekend, leaving the house to us. He’d also invited a group of people who wanted to come along for the afterparty, Gareth nervously agreeing.

“I hope they don’t fuck up my mom’s new carpet”

I on the other hand, went in the kitchen. Jeff came in and cracked a few jokes with me. I had to admit, he was a pretty funny dude, he could’ve gotten a few jokes in if Eddie wasn’t constantly making the group laugh with his jokes.

The party was small but homey, even from my standards. I was never a party person, and I stood by that. However, being around and going to venues with with the guys who party quite frequently, I had to go with them. I partially enjoyed myself most of the time, but my job was make sure they don't get into any trouble, even as Eddie’s girlfriend.

Eddie insisted that I come with him to parties, and I thought it was nice of him, and I couldn't decline. If I didn't go with them to parties, they'd go crazy and be in deep shit. Mostly trouble. Even though they were all old enough to hold their own, they sometimes acted like middle schoolers, especially Eddie.

Eddie and I had a pretty long history, meeting each other in middle school and becoming close ever since. I slowly met his other friends, and watched their love for music grow into having a band.

As Jeff told another joke, Gareth came from outside and passed him a blunt. He took a few hits and passed it to me, me doing the same. Jeff went off to smoke outside before Eddie came over and gave me a hug,

"Thank you so much for coming Y/N. It means a lot to me for you to be here since I know you're busy all the time."

I looked up at him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, "I wouldn't miss it for the world Eddie, I’m always going to try to make it to your shows, and that's not gonna change."

He gave me a warm smile kissed my lips as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I giggled as he smacked my ass and grabbed a bottle of Tequila behind me.

"Wanna do shots?"

I shrugged my shoulders and got two shot glasses. We took about 5 shots, drowning ourselves in alcohol.

Jeff came back in and started playing loud rock music. The entire house shook as people started dancing, drunkenly moving around Gareth’s living room.

I was drunk out of my mind and having a good time. I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and I turned around to see some guy, probably wanting to smash.

"Hey gorgeous, why don't we go upstairs? I'll show you something you might like."

He winked at me and I frowned. He wasn't the best looking and I'm not one for a one night stand. I felt someone wrap their arm around my waist and smash their lips onto mine, it was Eddie.

"Nah man, she's taken. She don't need anyone else, she likes what she has already, dude."

The mysterious guy walked away clearly pissed, and Eddie scoffed at him walking up the stairs to his room while holding my hand. Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” played before he took me into a room, presumably a guest bedroom. Once we were both inside the room, he closed the door and locked it.

I sat on the king sized bed as he went in the bathroom, attached to the room. I felt the alcohol wear off as I watched him take his shirt and pants off. He threw me one of his shirts and I looked up at him confused. He chuckled at my expression,

"You're clearly drunk and I don't need you drinking and driving. Stay with me and I'll drop you off at your place in the morning."

I shrugged and took my top and pants off, throwing on Eddie’s huge shirt on me. He laughed at how his shirt looked on me, "You look so fucking adorable in my shirt."

I blushed as he laid on the bed, cuddling up to his chest. He usually a very affectionate and passionate lover, but lately he’s been sweeter than usual these past few weeks. I gave him the benefit of the doubt because I did enjoy his tactics, I mean, who wouldn't want to be treated like a princess by Eddie Munson.

His arm went around my body and I felt him kiss my forehead. He turned on the TV sitting on the dresser and we both sat back and watched it.

After a few minutes of watching TV, I heard him ask me a question,

"Do you really like me Y/N?"

I looked up at him and gave him a soft smile, "Of course I do Eddie. I'm not with you just to fuck you,"

I straddled his waist as he sat back on the headboard and pulled me towards his chest.

"I wouldn't date you and fuck you if I didn't like you, Eddie"

He stared at my cleavage intensely. His tongue went across his lips and he bit them softly. He chuckled as his hand went to my ass, bringing me closer to him.

"Well this dungeon master just found his maiden."

Soon I felt him smash his lips onto mine, making me melt in his arms. My hands went to his hair, gripping his soft, long brown locs and moaning as his tongue slipped in my mouth. His hands went down to take off his boxers, his huge length slapping his stomach.

Even though we’ve messed around few times, and his size still impresses me. He was right, I didn't need another guy when I had him.

My mouth watered at his size and he reached to pull down my panties. Once he pulled off the thin material, he through my panties near his jeans. I laughed and let him continue, him gripping my breasts lightly through his shirt. His hands went under the shirt and played with my nipples, making me moaning at his actions.

He slipped off his shirt and threw it next to the bed. I got on my knees and pushed him down the headboard, stopping until his head was against the soft pillows. He chuckled knowing exactly what I wanted, my hormones getting the best of me.

I placed my knees on both sides of his head, him digging his fingers into my sides. My wet core throbbed above him, he looked at it like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He licked his lips and looked into my eyes.

"Don't hover over me babygirl, sit on my face."

I looked at him surprised, "I don't want to crush you or prevent you from breathing Eddie."

He laughed and kissed my inner thigh, "You're not gonna crush me babe, trust me. If anything it'll be hot as fuck."

I laughed and lowered myself onto him, him pulling me down even closer to his lips. Once he made contact with my wetness, he started sucking on my clit, sending me into a frenzy.

He slurped, sucked, bit and lapped my soaking pussy, making moan loudly. My hands went to his hair, pulling him closer. I felt myself about to cum, "Oh! Eddie! I'm about to squirt!"

He proceeded with his actions, going faster. His tongue slipped inside of me, making me closer to my climax. Tongue fucking me, his hands went to grip my ass. I backed up on him and twerked on his mouth. He smacked my ass at my actions, "Fuck you're so sexy babygirl. You're making me so hard."

I turned around and looked at his long throbbing dick behind me, craving my touch. It made me want to cum under his touch, I couldn't wait for him to rearrange my guts.

As he tongue fucked me, he reached his hand to rub my clit, making me shake.

"Oh Ed! I'm cumming!"

I felt myself release all over him, his mouth and face covered in my sweetness. He slurped all of my cum and pulled me up breathing heavily.

"Fuck Y/N, you're so sexy babe. You taste so good."

As he spoke his lips curled into a smirk, leaning back up on the headboard. He lined himself with my entrance, teasing me with his tip.

I leaned on his shoulder, "Stop being a tease you dick, just put it inside of me. I need you."

He chuckled and without warning, he shoved his full length in me.

"Oh fuck Ed! You're so big, you're filling me up so good!"

I heard him hiss and kiss my shoulder, "Fuck princess, you're so fucking tight, fuck you feel so good."

He repeatedly slammed into me, giving me no time to adjust to his length. He pulled me closer, kissing me sweetly. His tongue went through my mouth and he smacked my ass, thrusting into me even faster.

After a minute of him thrusting inside of me, he leaned back on the pillows and held my waist, "Ride my dick babygirl."

I held my breasts as I rode on top of him, enjoying this moment. Looking down at him, he looked up at me and played with my breasts. After playing with my perked nipples, he leaned down and ever so gently rubbed my clit. As he rubbed it, I felt myself about to cum again. I fell forward and put my hands on his chest, holding myself up as I rode him.

His hands went to my ass, gently caressing the soft skin. I closed my eyes shut as I felt myself about to cum. He looked up at me with his eyes slightly parted, admiring he sight before him. My breasts bounced in his face, him desperately wanting to motorboat me.

He looked into my eyes, loving the sight as well. If anything gave him a rush, it was the face a woman he was pleasuring. As I rode him I felt the urge to cum again.

"Baby I'm gonna cum!"

He groaned and held my hips, giving me sloppy thrusts. He was probably close too. I laid on his shoulder and let him thrust in me, making me closer to my release. He looked in my eyes as I laid on his shoulder he looked into my eyes, pecking my lips. Our foreheads touched together before I felt him harshly thrust in me. Probably trying to get the most pleasure before he came.

I moaned loudly as I felt myself cum around him. He moaned as he looked down, seeing my cream all around his dick and all over my pussy. He groaned loudly before I felt him cum inside of me, his cream coating my insides. We rode out our highs as cream coated my insides and his manhood.

He realized he came inside me, "Babe you're on the pill right?"

I nodded my head and he let out a breath of relief. I laughed and kissed his lips, him holding me in his arms. I closed my eyes and laid on his chest.

He kissed my forehead, "I can’t fucking believe you’re mine Y/N."

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. I smiled and kissed his lips once again, "Eddie, we've been best friends for years. You're my bestest friend and I love you so much, but when we started freshman year together I started liking you more than a friend, and I guess I pushed them away because I thought you wouldn't want to be with someone like me, but when you started showing interest in me our sophomore year, I felt happy that you wanted to possibly be with me. I’m glad I’m yours too Eddie"

I hugged him tightly and he held me tightly in his arms, smiling.

"I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you sweetheart"

I kissed him sweetly one more time before he turned us both over, crushing me under his weight. He leaned up on his shoulders and parted our lips.

"I can’t wait either babe, you better keep the mullet or I’m suing."

I held his face as he laughed looked in my eyes sweetly, looking at all of my facial features, admiring each and everyone of them.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N."

His words made me blush, him kissing my cheeks as he noticed the redness he caused upon them. He laid on my chest and snuggled into me, letting me cradle his head in my arms as we fell asleep. The loud music not bothering us as the party continued.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x sinclair!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson stranger things #hellfire club #corroded coffin

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