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kenphobia · 1 year

Note

Hey hey neighbour!

Can I request a angst/comfort howdy or Frank/Eddie x reader?

Kinda want to sob over this puppets.

The reader is from our world and such, but sometimes reader can feel someone staring at their back. But once the reader is left alone Home decides to drag reader in and lock them up? Maybe some also decides to Injure the readeralot

But thank u for writing this! (If u do-)

DISCO DISSOCIATION!

"let the maze of my design carry you on."

summary. frank decides to take his two beloveds on a picnic date! what could go wrong? (oneshot / 1.9k wc / read end notes)

contents. unreality, mentions of dissociation, implied mind-control, accidental gaslighting, local gay entomologist and butterfly enthusiast gets fucked over by a living house. ( n//fw blogs dni )

"(Name), hold on!"

"Try and catch me, sucker!"

Eddie huffed, panting as he fell on the grass, his knees hit the ground with a soft thud. Atop the hill, (Name) stood proudly and grinning before taking a moment to blow a raspberry at the poor and tired mailman.

Frank smiled at the sight, their gaze diverting from their book and to their two lovers as they got closer and closer to them. It was a strange situation they had gotten into, but they were happy with what they got.

(Name) wasn't exactly like them, not like Eddie or anyone in town in fact. Though, they look similar to Wally and Julie, they oozed red substance instead of stuffing and their skin wasn't as soft and fuzzy as the rest. Various parts of them still continue to grow despite being an adult and their way of eating is ... strange to say the least.

But Frank doesn't mind it all. Sure, it was weird, seeing someone who looks like them but is more alike with a banana than anything, but they loved (Name) and couldn't resist falling for them. Eddie couldn't help it too, so they're not the only one.

Right now, they were having a picnic. Or at least, Frank's setting one up whilst Eddie get his revenge on (Name) with a tickle fight and (Name) was very much losing.

"Okay, okay! You win, I'm done so ple, he— PLEASE!" (Name) coughed, heaving as they try to swat away Eddie's wiggling fingers. "LET ME GO!!"

"Not after I did this!" Eddie laughed. He (Name) by their waist and pulled them down on his lap before attacking their face with kisses. Subtle orange smudges covered their face like a glaze over a masterpiece of a painting.

(Name) whined, "You got your kisses, let me go now! I might have flatten your legs."

Eddie planted a final kiss on the lips and buried his face in the crook of their neck. He held their hand within his and left a kiss of orange on an obvious spot, it looked brighter than the light pecks on (Name)'s face.

"Eddie!" (Name) shouted, catching Frank's attention who had been adjusting how the basket sits in the middle of the plaid red blanket.

The puppet only laughed in response, unwrapping his arms around (Name)'s waist. They got up, brushed their clothing off and clear of any dust and turned. Eddie's legs were, yes, flattened, but he easily shaped them back to normal and only wobbled slightly when he stood up.

"See? I'm perfectly fine! Nothing to worry about, love." Eddie ruffled their hair, smiling without a care in the world.

'But still though..."

Frank rolled their eyes playfully and beckoned Eddie and (Name) to come close with his hand. "Come on, you two. Let's eat, so you two can get back to goofing around."

(Name) and Eddie hurriedly ran to where Frank stood and finally start their picnic. Just before the hills were long, drawled out fields of plain grass and the blue, cloudless skies made their picnic more peaceful than ever.

Still, no matter how relaxing and wonderful the entire situation is, Frank couldn't shake off a weird, jittery feeling. Like something was wrong and that picnic was only the calm before the storm. In truth, they had planned this picnic because something was wrong with their lovers, especially (Name), though they hid under the impression of 'needing some bonding time together'.

Frank turned to look at Eddie who seemed well enough, even smiling more widely than usual and enjoying himself in general. Yet, when they turned to (Name), they were ... distracted. Their face held a look of lost, confusion, of distortion, and their eyes were blank and heavily clouded with an unknown feeling.

They always been liked this, always dissociating suddenly on the spot. Frank would understand, they do it too but not like the way (Name) does it. They sit there blankly, as if they just stopped working, living and was nothing more than a husk of they were before. The lights in their head had switched off that very moment and no one was there to respond.

Frank tried their best to listen throughout Eddie's long, tall tales, but they couldn't help looking over to (Name). They seemed to be somewhat listening too, nodding or shaking his head whenever Eddie asked them a question. The larger puppet didn't seem to notice the distant look in their eyes.

When grey took over the sky, they immediately packed up and ran back to the neighborhood as fast they could. And ran they did, arriving at Frank's place dry and safe from the curling thunders and the pouring rain.

As Eddie flopped down on the sofa, feeling awfully tired and parched from all of his long rambling, Frank quickly went to the kitchen to fetch him a glass.

They leaned down, placing a gentle hand on Eddie's shoulder and kissing his forehead. "You stay here and rest up while I get you something to drink, okay?" Frank whispered to his ear, to which Eddie mumbled a 'Thanks, Frankie' and smiled lazily.

"Do you need anything, (Name)?" Frank turned to their other lover who stood closely by the window, a little too close form how they were pressing their forehead on the glass. Frank furrowed their brows at this, worry rattling their mind once again. "...(Name)?"

Something in (Name) snapped, like a rubber band being let loose after being stretched for so long. They turned, still distracted as ever but now they look more alive than they were back at the picnic. "Y-Yes?"

"Do you want anything? Water? Something to eat?" Frank asked, walking up to them and reaching out for their hands, yet (Name) hid them behind their back and stepped back.

The human (as they like to call themself) shook their head, almost violently before offering a gentle, reassuring smile to Frank. "No... No, I'm fine. Thank you, Frank."

Depsite their words, Frank remained unsure but they didn't want to make them uncomfortable, so they nodded and smiled back in hopes to smooth out the strange tensity in the air. "Right, um, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Rest up, (Name)."

And so, Frank went to the kitchen, fixing up a glass of water for Eddie and coming back just as quick as they came in. But when they did, (Name) was gone and only Eddie remained on the couch, unmoving from the position Frank and left him in.

Frank frowned and handed Eddie his water. "Hey, Eds?"

The tired puppet hummed, taking a sip from his glass and glanced up to Frank. "Yeah?"

"Where's..." Frank looked around, checking for any sign of (Name) going to the bathroom or to their shared bedroom but uncovered nothing. They took a deep breath in. "Where's (Name)? They were here a while ago."

"(Name)? I thought they were with you?" Eddie raised his brow. He had completely drank all up the water and put it down on the coffee table, seemingly alarmed at Frank's sudden question.

"No, they weren't." Frank turned to the front door, walked up to it in a matter of seconds and went to unlock it. But it always been unlocked, from the moment Frank had touched the knob and the door opened with little to no difficulty, they knew something was wrong.

"...Frank?" Eddie called out from the living room. "Frank, what's wrong?" He had called out again, his tone growing persistently worried and sick.

Through the darkness of the night and storm, Frank could see a familiar silhouette stuck out in the middle of it all. A silhouette so familiar but so strange at the same time that Frank felt a strange feeling of falling, of dizziness, of vertigo.

And it felt sick.

"Frank? Frank! W-Where are you? Where's (N-Name)?" Eddie's voice grew farther and farther, and the warmth, the lights of Frank's home suddenly went out on itself. All they could see, feel and hear was nothing but a cold, bleak darkness and a buzzing noise that Frank soon learned to be TV static.

They also learned the figure was no other than (Name). Drenched in rain water, from head to toe, and looked more rugged than usual. They moved, walked and turned like a broken down marionette being dragged through the streets.

Frank couldn't move nor speak, they could only stand there as their beloved (Name), the bright and always sunny (Name) Eddie and they love, walk towards the very center of the neighborhood: Wally's home. Just Home.

They got closer and closer, and of course, Home opened a door for them. Frank wanted to scream, to shout and warn their lover to stay away from the wretched home that always looked and smelled too off for their liking, the very home that (Name) kept looking and staring each and every night.

But they can't, so they watched as (Name) went in and the door very, very slowly closed on them. Home looked at Frank with an almost mocking, hungry glint in its eyes before the lights finally reached Frank and warmth flooded their senses once again.

"Frankie, is there anything wrong?" Frank flinched slightly under Eddie's sudden hug, feeling his arms firmly but gently over their shoulders and the sudden weight of Eddie's head. "You suddenly got up and left..."

"G-Got up what now-?" Frank looked down, seeing they were dressed up in their sleeping gown and held a small, lit candle in their hands, providing as the only light within the dim hallway. "I— I saw (Name)! They went inside home a-and—!"

"Frank, calm down." Eddie squeezed their shoulders. His forehead creased as he frowned, Frank could sense worry and confusion all over their husband's face. "You're not making sense, what you do mean—?"

"(Name), Our lover! They went out into the rain, a-and Home got them. Don't you remember them?!" Frank hurriedly cut off Eddie, a sudden urge of energy spiked through them as the cold brushes against their soft, fleece skin.

Eddie's brows only furrowed further, the confusion in his eyes intensified. "Frank, I don't think we had another lover. I— Frank, are you okay? Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Wha— Eddie, you know (Name). They were the new neighbor, we've been dating them for months already, don't you know?" Frank tried again, the accursed seeds of dread and fear began spreading through their gut as they prayed to any and every listening god out there for this entire night not to be true. That everything was just a bad dream.

Eddie shook Frank in his arms, his hold tighter and firmer than before. And though, Eddie had tried to still be gentle with the shorter puppet, Frank couldn't help but feel trapped, suffocated from just being in Eddie's hold. "Frank, we never had a new neighbor named (Name), we never had another lover. I— Are you sure you're okay? Are you sure that you're getting enough sleep?"

"Eddie, I—"

"Come on. Let's go to bed, okay? We can... We can talk about this tomorrow morning, does that sound okay with you?" Eddie smiled, his gaze has softened. The front door closed on them as Eddie led Frank to their bedroom, his grasp was less firm and his hand kneaded and rubbed circles on their back.

Frank simply nodded, exhaustion hitting them faster than they realized. They sluggishly nodded, their arms dropping to their sides in an instant. "Yeah, let's... Let's go to sleep." They agreed tiredly, looking back for a final time to only see a large, dark eye staring at them from the window.

notes. so uh i did not see the hurt/comfort part but have this anon. i am sorry but no sorry because this is now one of my favorite fics.... hh kind of, i hated how i writed the first part of the fic and the end hshshshs AAA

but yeah, i love stealing characters' loved ones from them and writing their soul-crushing, nerve-popping, silly-goosing angst and trauma <333 (i am self projecting)

again, my inbox are always open for any requests or mindless chatter!! and any support is appreciated :]]

#writing log!#welcome home x reader #frank frankly x reader #eddie dear x reader #welcome home #this was not proof read oopsies

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sincerelybubbles · 2 days

Text

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

masterlist

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention.

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you.

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight.

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind.

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain.

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door.

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous.

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape.

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee.

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply.

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over.

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide.

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge.

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove.

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh.

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor.

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book.

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta.

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart.

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news.

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting.

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident.

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet.

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well.

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face.

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief.

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest.

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled.

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression.

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere.

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile.

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile.

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are.

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted.

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him.

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space.

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones.

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically.

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head.

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name.

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone.

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait.

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in.

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks.

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack.

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something.

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder.

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow.

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up.

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains.

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little.

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one.

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted.

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread.

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him.

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it.

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes.

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him.

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about.

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere.

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable.

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away.

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms.

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly.

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something.

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers.

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging.

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering.

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct.

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back.

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly.

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored.

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory.

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught.

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street.

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food.

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street.

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs.

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks.

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer.

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house.

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head.

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window.

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology.

You wish he hadn’t.

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again.

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle.

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts.

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway.

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side.

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun.

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks.

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low.

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms.

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid.

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy.

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head.

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket.

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team.

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway.

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you.

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away.

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it.

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile.

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

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hoeplessl0nging · 5 months

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A Mother's Lament

Helaena takes revenge into her own hands. [2.3k words]

inspired by this post from @sleepwalker-02-artist , i don't normally write these little prompts but something took over and i couldn't not write a little oneshot. || cross-posted on ao3

The air was thin, up so high. High enough her hair was kissed by cotton clouds. The wind was near deafening and cold, yet it quieted the rage in her blood, blew the tears from cheeks and dried her eyes. The steel on her shoulders, silver, shining steel, heavy like death, heavy like the grief nestled under her chest and in her belly, it pushed against her lungs, it hurt when she took a breath. Yet what was the pain other than a motivation?

High over the rivers, green grass and blue waters, carved like an angry god had taken a knife to the lands. How much blood has tainted the water of the trident? Helaena had found herself wondering. Much, certainly, though there would still be more to come.

The woman sniffed and violet eyes grazed the skies again. He had to be here, somewhere. Far below her, near several miles below, a brown dragon flew, surveying the lands, as if searching for something, or perhaps someone. Helaena sighed, it was not the dragon nor rider she was searching for. Absentmindedly, she pulled the reins and whispered to Dreamfyre, an order to fly high and steer clear of the other enemy rider. It was not the conflict she was after.

The pressure on her lungs returned with another breath, the chainmail clinked as she shifted her weight in the saddle. She squinted and felt that familiar burning rage and blue grief, flowing like waves, a thundering storm inside of her. Lightning struck each of her nerves and violet eyes searched through the sky and clouds for a bloom of crimson.

'Twas no revenge, no eye for an eye, nor son for son. It was blood. It was death for the sake of it, that sweet boy she had carried, had birthed, had cherished did not deserve that. That man, that monster, who had held the blade to her throat. The other that had held her precious daughter. The one responsible for it would die. Be it today, or tomorrow. He'd not survive the week. He'd not live long enough to harm another.

"Choose. Choose!" He had screamed, the other jeered almost gleefully. The edge of his knife had kissed her throat.

Too close, too loud, too much. Not her boys, not her girl, not her. "Choose!" The rat-catcher and the sellsword had cried, Helaena remembered crying. Tears salting the stone of the castle. Had it always thirsted for blood as so? Death, death, death, the crow faced god cloaked in shadow cawed, hauntingly.

"Stop, stop," she had shouted. "Stop!" Yet they did not, not until the sellsword had deemed her overcome by grief, mad enough, weak enough to drop the blade from her neck.

Her limbs had felt weightless, boneless, a flop of fabric and skin on the stone floor. He had moved to threaten the squalling babe in the cradle. "Take me, kill me. Not him, not my son, don't you touch him! Not any of them, please, not my Maelor!"

The sellsword had laughed, yet it sounded more like a howl. A feral dog. A blood thirsty hound. "You have named one, then."

Violet eyes had stared on in horror. Her throat had ached - had she been screaming? Why had no one come? Where were the guards? Where was her mother? Or her brothers or her husband?

More tears had bubbled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her lips wobbled and throat bobbed. Helaena remembered the back of her hand, reached out desperately, as if she could summon the foul blade from the sellsword's hand with some unknowable power. Yet it did not happen.

If she had strained her ears, there was a high howl that sounded like Shrykos. A croaky caterwaul of Morghul. The deep, haunting, angry bellow of Dreamfyre. She could still hear their calls now, along with the crying children.

Death was never pretty, in the few deaths she had been forced to watch, she had always looked away. A delicate lady with delicate sensibilities, a gentle and good woman, she had been told. Quiet and prone to melancholy, but good, a clement Queen, her mother had said as she'd laid her crown upon her head and kissed her cheeks.

She had made Aegon and the war council agree send their half sister terms of peace, she had made them all agree to leave Rhaenyra's title and let the woman and her kin keep Dragonstone, yet what had she received in turn? Death.

The gods had warned her, she had warned them all, ever since she could speak, from the moment she could process more than grief. Yet no one listened, they never did. Close an eye, a dance, a war, the death of the dragons.

Each divine message wrapped in riddles and the visions covered in a haze like layers of chiffon, faces and features warped into unrecognisable humanoid blobs. The death of her son, slaughtered like an animal, by some foul, cruel butcher and rat-catcher.

Not her Maelor, though. Not the babe, not the one that foul creature had tricked into her not her sweet daughter either, brave little Jaehaera, stony-faced and catatonic at the sight before her, frozen as she had been since the rat-catcher had threatened what the sellsword -a man so callously named as Blood- would do to the little girl if she did not hurry and make her choice. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Debts never paid and twisted.

Yet the look in the little girl's eyes was as if the whole earth had shattered. Helaena couldn't find it within her to bring up his face inside of her memory, not when he was smiling an laughing, not when he had died scared and screaming. Face so cruelly contorted by fear. His little body, those little lilac eyes, lifeless and everything, so so red. Four namedays old. Bloody and haunted. Her first, her boy, named for the Old King, only he would now never grow old, spiders would find their homes where her eldest son had once been.

Perhaps once upon a time, they had taken her warnings. Perhaps it would have been peace. Perhaps if the rot had been cut off before it touched the entire tree. Before the blood seeped into the water and found it's way into the wine. Before the flies feasted upon them all, before crows and buzzards picked their bones dry. She had warned them. Yet the seeds of war had long been sewn, crime unpunished and far from forgotten.

Hadn't her mother and half-sister found peace before Viserys had died? Put down their poisons before it tainted the roots anymore. The woman bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of iron filled her mouth as the liquid kissed her tongue.

It was foolish to believe that it was enough to stop the ever-growing rot. To expect the scorpion wouldn't sting. It was all the thing knew how to do, all her half-sister's attack dog knew how to do. No matter how gently one handled a creature, it would still bite. But the scorpion had stung the wrong frog, for whilst the grief had confined her, melancholy and guilt twisting her mind into a prison, it had put her upon the window ledge more than once swaying and staring down at the long drop, the spikes at the bottom of the pit.

The anger had found her a way to break free. Anger, righteous and shrewd and vicious, burning like wildfire in her belly. A dragon. A monster taking over where she had once been human, ready to avenge her son, her people, her Hightower uncles and cousins, the families of her ladies and the soldiers that had died for their cause, the smallfolk that starved along with them and suffered at their hands. The lost Shrykos. For her living children, for Jaehaera and Maelor, for her mother and brothers.

Daemon Targaryen would befall the fate of all mad, rabid dogs. The frog would drown the scorpion before it could sting again. She'd cut as many of the rotted limbs from the tree as she could, herself, or she'd die trying.

The beat of Dreamfyre's wings was as soothing as it could be. Like the drums of war. Sure and steady, like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. Like Sunfyre glimmering gold and platinum and rose, like the light of the Hightower, like the will of the gods. The wingbeats were thumps of a thunderous heart. A lilting lullaby from the only other creature who truly understood her pain, her fury - who knew her better than anyone else did and likely ever would. A gentle giant and an apt listener-. Dreamfyre was certain, she'd ne'er fail her, heart and soul and strength and innocence, grief and mourning. Dreamfyre knew it all. She is as much me as I am myself. She thought.

Her mouth grew dry as the dot in the distance drew ever closer. Dreamfyre rose higher and higher, the air growing thinner and colder. The red dragon and rider had not spotted them yet, and if the gods had woven the tapestry of fate in her favour, he would not until it was too late. Jaehaerys was dead. She was not.

He was dead. She was not, yet a part of her had died with him, a hole in her heart and an aching web of guilt that made it almost impossible to look at Maelor and Jaehaera, unable to meet her mother's gaze nor stomach being in the same room as her brothers for longer than a moment. Would he have grown to look like them? Aegon's messy waves, Aemond's eyes? Daeron's mannerisms? Would he still have her smile? Maybe the gods could reveal it, in another dream.

Another dream, an omen, a wish, a warning - If she lived long enough to dream again. Fire for fire, blood for blood. Like the fear that haunted her mind. Like the words and riddles whispered by some ancient power. Like their house words. Helaena took another breath, deep and slow. There was a change in the air. It smelt of sulphur and fire and rot. A shadow of a beast as large as her own appeared in the distance. Red and lanky, fierce and unfathomable. Near the size of Vhagar and mighty.

Another breath, perhaps soon to be her last. The weight of the shining silver pauldrons unfamiliar and frightening, yet it kept her grounded. A hand rubbed the pale blue and violet and silver scales, they were hot like a fire, warming and electric against the cold.

The deep green of the singular jewel around her neck. The blade at her hip, unused and untainted. Steel shiny and fresh forged and sharp The golden dragon she had stitched herself marked the hem of the blue-green-black tunic beneath the silver ringmail. Blooming gold and yellow like a bruise. The gods caressed her face, cloud-forged fingers raking through her hair, smoothing braids and tangling through the rest that draped loosely over her back and flowed behind her.

Dreamfyre unleashed a low croon, a growl deep and haunting. Musical, tragic like the songs, tragic like the saints. Fingers dug into the tangle of leather reins and rope, "Gentle mother, font of mercy."

The dragon crooned again as if she was singing along with her. Blood thumped in her ears. Dreamfyre's sapphire spines twisted in the winds, sky and silver membranes like the sails on a ship. Seven hells hath no fury like a mother protecting her children, nor the Fourteen Flames mimic the song of vengeance, cold like ice, burning like fire inside of her heart. Aegon had taken care of the rats, and soon enough, the White Worm would be dead too. She'd show Daemon the true meaning of their house words. Fire for fire, blood for blood.

As her violet eyes befell the form of Caraxes, soaring over the Riverlands, crimson and copper. Flown far enough from where he had split from the skinny brown dragon's side. She strained her eyes to glare at the form of black leather and onyx armour. If this was to be her death, so be it. A fall from the sky, to spikes or to earth, burned like her husband had been, it didn't matter. So long as he was gone. Until he faced punishment for the death he ordered.

Helaena called out in Valyrian, leather and chainmail covered chest pressed into the front of the saddle and reins bound tight around her hands. Strands of silver-gold-moonglow hair flying free of the braids she had woven that very morning. The same braids her mother had taught her all those years ago.

Dreamfyre dove. Soaring swiftly despite her size, the scream of the wind in her ears and against the dragon's mighty wings. As they drew closer, faster and faster and faster. If this was the day of her death, she'd face it with a stiff lip. No return, no return, no reason. She had come this far. Regardless, fear coiled in her belly like a viper ready to strike. Death would always be scary, a stranger, a crow cloaked in shadows with leathery wings like a bat, claws like a dragon and the shape of a tall, thin man lingered in the dark corners of her vision, the Stranger - ready to lead them to the world beyond.

She was not ready to face Jaehaerys. The little boy whose body was butchered and head hacked off by a half-blunt blade - Helaena didn't think she could ever be.. Yet, at the very least, the gods would pass their judgment upon his killers. Pass judgement upon Daemon Targaryen and his band of rabid hounds and scorpions. Death, death! The Stranger crowed through the wind.

The Mother's hymn found its way past her lips and into the wind. Flies and spiders and birds. She pleaded for the Warrior's strength, for the Maiden's goodness and the Father's justice. Fire in her blood, rage belly and thunder in her heart, the gods whispered something soft into her ear. Not a riddle, not a vision nor prophesy. Dreamfyre roared. Fire reigned o'er the back of the crimson beast, mighty dragons of blue and red danced.

#my fics #au #helaena targaryen #helaena the dreamer #queen helaena #helaena takes her revenge au #pro helaena targaryen #dreamfyre #helaena and dreamfyre #oopsie helaena might be a bit ooc but its an au so i do what i want #i don't proof read #just in case/for filtering purposes:#anti team black #anti daemon targaryen

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pinkysberg · 1 year

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rereading my last fic n watching myself randomly slip into present tense for no reason ??

#i mainly write in present tense tbh but i am learning lately ppl ? don't like present tense so much so #tried sumn different and lmaooo. i even proof read it oopsie #oopsie <3 #thinky

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mercyofempty · 2 years

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on the plus side i managed to make prince fuck autistic

#wispy.txt #i didnt even realise it until i was proof reading and was like oh huh... gave him autism.... oopsies.#suprisingly im fine with how kirby and fluff are #but i keep struggling with dedede and meta knight because there's so many ways you can write them #because there's so many media types. yknow. idk how to describe #and i cant exactly get down a right feeling on how i write them #buti think ive gotten the gist #and i think ill go crazy if i rewrite this fic anymore #i dont like how it is but eughghhhhhh i need to do bad stuff to get better **drilling it into my m ind**

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dilfkuza · 11 months

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thinking about Kiryu so much today has given me the urge to finish some of my kazumaji fics + start 2 more. dont ask me how many are already sitting in my drafts <3

#time to research japanese marriage laws again ig lets see if anything's changed since 2019 #'Cy what do you mean *again*?' the variety of things i have researched for college classes is incredible #anyways yeah i wanna make a kazumaji proposal fic but idk if i wanna make it goofy or more serious. gotta do the research 1st #by research i mean looking into the proof of partnership and which prefectures/municipalities use it again and seeing laws ->#on marriages performed outside of Japan. plus i just got a news article about a bill that passed yesterday so i gotta read up on that and-#look ik i dont HAVE to make it realistic and i can just have my fun fictional proposal but man...#college has kinda ruined me in that i GOTTA do the research first ykwim? they rewired my brain #idkidk maybe i'll just have them get fake documents for Goromi or somethin if im feeling silly goofy that'd work just as well in fic #i have 3 that are almost already done though that im gonna edit and post in the next few days. only one is lighthearted though oopsie #im so in denial im adding more kazumaji into the ecosystem to ignore the lad8 info 😌✌️ peace and love on planet earth #bulletin board

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alastorsfuckassbob · 4 months

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You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #fanfic #god this is kinda ass #tumblr is my shit hole and i will scream whatever I want into the void #lol what even is this #alastor died oops #y/n #y/n fics are my last mental defense before massive decline

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theriverdraws · 2 years

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ANALYZING THIS ONE NOELLE UPDATE ABOUT SUSIE AND KRIS BECAUSE HOLY FUCK.

First of all, I might be biased, but since this "post" is called "The newest girl", and Susie seems to really hate Kris in particular, I feel like this is great proof for the "Susie was from a human community" theory. Because she seems to really dislike Kris - who is the only human in the city - for no particular reason.

Also Susie never bullying Noelle because she was the only person who was ever nice to Susie... I love them so much.

Well, even if Kris cared about it they wouldn't be able to do anything because.... Yeah. But considering later additions to this it doesn't seem like Kris ever hated Susie? The thought of "wasting no opportunity to expell her from school" is something they never thought of, and they seemed to get the worst of it. Who knows, Kris is weird snsjsjs.

We know that Susie being "mean" is more of a persona she puts up since no one is nice to her, so it's really hard to read her true intentions here but I mean if I were to assume.. Susie has very bad eating habits, and it seems like she's trying to warn Kris here but she's not being nice about it.

.. And she made Kris laugh! They maybe thought it was a joke, or maybe it's just their weird sense of humor but it seems like they really vibed with Susie's whole thing, because they are both literally the same level of chaos. They seemed to like her while she hated their guts.

Susie clearly misinterprets Kris' reaction and throws the apple at them and we can see Kris being a true gamer and also a weird little shit kRIS DON'T EAT THE APPLE WHAT ARE YOU DOING--

And then Susie makes an oopsie. Listen, I know Susie and Kris are THE bestest of friends now, and it's very clear that they like each other a lot, and can never be separated, but I really hope they talk it out about everything she said.

Because that clearly hit Kris really hard. While Kris sure has uh, a lot of other worse things to worry about now, I'm sure they would still remember this no? They really need to talk everything out I think :(. Perhaps in the diner scene in ch4 haha hello please Toby?

(Also maybe Susie was projecting a bit when she said that? It's very unclear if she has parents soo, it would make sense) .

This part is very interesting. Because if Kris really did say something, there's no way that what they said was a threat. If a threat scared Susie that much, I doubt that she would completely brush it off and start bullying them again in the future. But what else could have they said to make Susie run away like that?

Well, we do know Kris is going through a lot, so I imagine they probably had a pretty bad reaction that wouldn't be a threat, but it would make Susie leave, out of shock perhaps?

So what I think Kris would have said (if they said anything at all, and it wasn't just their expression) , would be some short but very self-deprecating sentence like: "Yeah. She would". And that, together with whatever face they were making, would be enough to push Susie away I think. Anyway those are my 2 cents to this.

Also Noelle hid inside the locker lmao, and Kris knew she was there all the time and just slowly shut the door on her again. They're so weird I love them so much.

#WOOO THEY ME WHAT YOU THINK THO #deltarune #susie deltarune #kris deltarune #kris dreemurr #noelle holiday #noelle #noelle deltarune #kris

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urfavoritegirlkisser · 4 months

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"To All of the Girls I've Loved Before" II Hazel Callahan x Reader

“Hazel goes to her favorite diner, ordering her favorite food and a large chocolate milkshake to go with it. It definitely helped to deal with her existential crisis on a full stomach and she eventually calmed her emotions.”

Tags: Cheerleader!Reader who is kinda mean oopsie, girls kissing, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lightly proof read

A/N: Wow, didn't expect y'all to like the first part, again this is based loosely off of the plot of "To All the Boys I've Loved Before" except it's gay and we love it. This is part two, go to the first part if you haven't read it already! Also, don't steal my writing, I only post on Tumblr.

Hazel wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there for eternity. She didn’t even wait for the dismissal bell as she grabbed her things and immediately rushed home.

How did the letters even get out? She had made sure to put them all in a small shoe box in the back of her closet…

As soon as she got home, Hazel ran up to her room and searched her closet from top to bottom, but all she found was a now empty shoe box.

“Hazel? Why are you home so early? I thought you had that fight club thing today” Hazel’s mom says as she leans against the door frame in that ridiculously overpriced bathrobe.

Hazel sighed and looked up at her mom, “Yeah…they, uh, canceled today” she says quickly while holding the shoe box and running a hand through her hair in frustration.

Her mother pointed to the box, “I made sure to mail those for you so you didn’t forget, and so they didn’t sit collecting dust.” she says while taking a sip from the drink in her hand

Hazel freezes and looks at her mother, her shock slowly fading into anger, “You were the one who mailed them?”

“I mean it seemed like you had forgotten about them, so I took it upon myself” she says shrugging her shoulders like her decision didn’t cause Hazel to make some of the biggest mistakes in her life.

Hazel throws the shoe box to the floor and rushes out of the house without another word as all of the emotions start flooding her mind and she sits in her car trying to blink back tears. She hits the steering wheel in frustration and then lays her head on it which causes the horn to blare.

“My life is ruined” she groans and then leans back, closing her eyes. She then starts her car and puts it into drive.

She needs to go somewhere and think

Hazel goes to her favorite diner, ordering her favorite food and a large chocolate milkshake to go with it. It definitely helped to deal with her existential crisis on a full stomach and she eventually calmed her emotions.

And then you walked in

You scanned the diner and immediately spotted Hazel, walking over and sitting across from her in the booth. You had your cheerleading uniform on which told Hazel you must have come straight from practice.

“Hey Hazel” you say with a bright smile which Hazel can’t help but return, a small blush coating her cheeks.

“So I just wanted to come over and talk to you about what happened at the track earlier and I also want to offer you a deal” you say with a smug grin, “I need help getting my ex jealous, so I was thinking that maybe we keep up a little charade” you say as Hazel look at you dumbfounded at what you’re saying.

“It’s perfect! I’ll get Josh back for cheating on me, and you’ll finally get noticed by people other than those girls in your little club!” you say, a little condescendingly as you mention the fight club Hazel was apart of.

Hazel decided to try and scrounge up some form of her pride to leave with, “Yeah, look, I just wanted to say that I totally do not have a crush on you, I just needed to make sure another person also didn’t think I had a crush on them” she says confidently, and she isn’t technically lying…more like she was only saying half of the truth, right?

You weren’t going to lie, that made a spike of jealousy shoot through you but were quick to push the feeling down as you looked back to Hazel with a curious expression, “Oh? And who is this mystery person?”

Hazel fiddles with her rings nervously, wondering if she can trust you, “Well…um, her name is PJ but I’m sure you don’t know her-”

“But isn’t she like one of your best friends?” You questioned as you interrupt the brunette.

Hazel rubs the back of her neck anxiously, “I mean yeah, she is, but I never really had a crush on her until that kiss during the game happened and you know things got like super confusing for a while…” Hazel rambles until she slowly looks to see you checking your nails, seemingly uninterested.

“Look…maybe this fake dating arrangement could benefit both of us, you prove to PJ that you are totally not into her and I make my ex jealous, it’s really a win-win situation” you say, trying to push the idea forward again.

Hazel doesn’t know how to respond to this question…could she really date you, kiss you, love you while knowing that you don’t and will likely never feel the same?

She looks up and shakes her head, “I don’t know…this could really crash and burn if we ever get found out” she says softly

“I mean it’s not like we’ll ever tell anyone the truth” You say before sighing, “Just think it over, ok?”

Hazel nods and you flash her a smile before leaving.

“What is my life?” Hazel groans as she lets her head fall to the table in front of her

The next day, you were at cheer practice, running over drills when you heard a voice call your name.

You look to see Hazel walking up to you until she stops right in front of you, tilting your head up a little, you can see a devious grin playing on her lips

“Let’s do this” she whispers to you

You cast a quick glance to your teammates around you and smiled before pulling Hazel into a quick but passionate kiss.

Hazel stumbles back a little after you break away and then looks around at all the people staring, her face starting to turn a vibrant shade of red as she laughs nervously.

“Yep, that’s my girlfriend alright” she says trying to play it cool but ultimately failing as she quickly walks away, “Carry on!” she squeaks out before running away, leaving you giggling softly at how cute Hazel looked when she was flustered.

A/N: Thank you again for reading!! I had no clue that a silly little idea of mine would be enjoyed by so many. Anyways, go drink water you girl kissers.

#hazel bottoms #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan fanfiction #bottoms 2023 #ruby cruz #wlw fanfic

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erosuguru · 10 months

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not adding a title to this, it was supposed to be a drabble but i got too into it..... oopsie

MINORS+AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Toji Fushiguro x reader, characters are 18+, reader is pink bimbo coded, predator prey kink? idk toji chases reader around the house, 1.1k words

CW: nsfw heavily mentioned but no full smut, toji is horny but reader wants to paint her nails. plushies used as ammunition (reader throws them at toji lol), some proof reading

You usually liked the rain, but today it ruined all your plans and you almost swore hatred on it. You had an appointment with a nail technician which was canceled minutes after you began getting ready due to the rain escalating into a storm (honestly you wouldn’t have gone even if it was regular rain; that would mean ruining your adorable new shoes! You paid a fortune for those!), a friend of yours canceled plans due to said storm as well- Mother Nature was against you today.

It wasn’t ALL bad, you settled for staying inside in your cutest pajamas and you even got a few chores done, now you relaxed on your couch as you painted your nails, your nail appointment may have been canceled but that won’t stop you from your pursuit of aesthetics. The silence was annoying to deal with at first but after a snack and a few episodes of your favorite show, you found the atmosphere quite nice.

You were abruptly pulled out of your tranquility as the door slammed open and then shut, the rainstorm’s noise briefly filled the room before growing muffled again, your eyes followed the noise and saw your giant of a boyfriend covered in rainwater and.. you want to say grime but you think its blood from his latest job. Toji kicked aside his shoes and threw his bag aside grunting to himself, he hadn’t noticed you yet.

As he walked in, the water dripped off him and soaked into your floor, you grew irritated.

“Umm.. could you not?” You asked him with a look of disappointment, you had just wiped the floor earlier! He looked up at you with an indiscernible expression. “I just wiped the floor like 2 minutes ago! You’re cleaning that up!”

Usually, he’d whine and groan about chores but this time he just stared at you, slowly you became unnerved as those eyes studied you- the scariest part is that you didn’t know what he was thinking, but in the back of your mind you knew what was about to happen.

“… Toji?”

He took one step forward towards you.

“Toji, no.” you reprimanded, he took another step

“Toji, yes.” He simply replied as he cracked his neck once, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

“I said no! I’m doing my nails!!” A grin graced his features, one where you knew you have to start running.

You both stared each other down for a moment before Toji lunged at you, you narrowly escaped by climbing over the couch leaving behind a cushion in his arms, he quickly tossed it aside and followed after you.

“C’MERE!!” He practically yelled as he easily leaped over the couch and followed after you, you let out a loud ‘NOOOO!’ the adrenaline quickly spiked in your system as your lover chased you like some starved predator.

Your chase consisted of him almost cornering you in multiple areas of your house, he almost reached for you over the kitchen table, you barely dodged him near the bathroom, you had a moment to breathe at the kitchen doorway before sprinting away after he almost caged you in his gigantic arms.

“Where’re you going, baby?! you don’t love me anymore?!” he mocked you as he laughed, your terrified squeal fueled him, and seeing you run from him excited him to no end. He chased you to your bedroom arriving behind you just in time to see you climb on your bed as if high ground was going to keep him away from you.

“Shoo!! Go away!!” You yelled at him as you threw your plushies at him from where you stood on the bed, he easily parried the little stuffed companions as he let out a sinister laugh.

“What’s wrong? I just wanna show my girl some love!” He circled your bed looking for the right chance to capture you in his arms, you tiptoed and balanced yourself on the mattress- your ‘My Melody’ plushie clutched in your hand; she was your last line of defense.

“That’s what you said last time, and I ended up walking funny for days!” he smirked and his scar curled with his smile, you blushed at the memory of the time he practically shoved you into a mating press and drilled you until you were overflowing with his seed (you were confident this pervert took pictures during that time).

Aiming, Toji’s smug smile hadn’t faltered as you pouted at him, god he couldn’t wait to pin you under him and fuck all his stress away. Throughout his entire day he thought of you; that pouty look you gave him when he teased you, the obnoxiously pink yet adorable outfits you wore that made his dick throb, and of course- how could he live without that ass of yours that was practically begging to be groped by his large hands as he got an eyeful while chasing you?

“Baby doll you’re being dramatic!” Toji tried coaxing you into putting down the plushie but you knew better “Put the bunny down and jump into your Toji’s arms!” he emphasized his point by opening his arms to you, as if you were going to do that after he chased you like a madman all while he was dripping wet, oh and did you mention that you WIPED THE FLOOR before he came home?!

As he blabbered sweet nonsense to you, you made a plan to throw the plushie in his face as a distraction and escape your bedroom, additionally, you got the idea to shut the door behind you and lock him in when you caught the glint of your bedroom key slotted into the door.

It was risky but you know you can do this, this is perfect, your plan is perfect!

… not.

The moments flashed by after you launched your poor soldier at him, you only took one step forward off the mattress, a singular step that went nowhere as you blinked once, and suddenly, you found yourself on your back on the bed with Toji pinning you down with his weight straddling your waist. your expression was adorable; lips parted staring up at him as those wide confused eyes slowly registered defeat, the most humiliating symbol of said defeat was your plushie in his free hand as the other held down both your wrists in one hand over your head.

He let out a low chuckle, one that vibrated in his chest as he pressed his body as close to yours as possible leaning down until your noses were centimeters from touching. He lifted your little plushie to your line of sight and grinned “You put up a fun chase, but I want my prize~”

Toji tossed your trooper off the bed, and as the storm progressed outside your home you were glad you threw the rest of your plushies off the bed when you did.

#toji x y/n #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jjk x you #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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spideybatsy · 2 years

Text

Find me | Dream*

*of the Endless

Summary: Morpheus' partner cannot stand to stay in the decaying dreaming, it just hurts too much.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

WC: 1.3K

Warnings: a bit of angst, if I do say.

Notes: Apparently, white poppies represent dreaming. So, I wanted to include them hehe. Also, I did not proof read this. Please let me know if I've made a oopsie Masterlist

Thousands of years ago, you made a vow to always stay by his side. You created an unbreakable bond and committed the rest of your existence to him. For so long, you’d lived with him happily. Safe and secure in the realm of the Dreaming.

And now, he was gone.

It had all happened so quickly. He’d gone to Berlin to finally put an end to The Corinthian’s horror, it should’ve only taken a few hours. Hours turned into days, days into weeks and then eventually it had been months. Jessamy, his trust Raven, had not returned home either.

You’d tried to hold out for him, honestly. But every moment you spent in his decaying realm felt like a lifetime. The thousands of memories you’d made began to rot away with the rest of his kingdom. Even Lucienne’s library had disappeared.

By the time 80 years had passed, there was still no word. You could bare it no longer; the pain was too great.

So, you left.

You made a new life for yourself in a tiny cottage in Cornwall. It wasn’t much, nothing compared to the castle, but it was enough. Your heart ached for him every day but the pain was bearable now.

As usual, you pass the garden of white poppies to you collect the daily newspaper. The breath catches in your throat as you read the front headline.

Sleep Sickness Survivors Awaken.

This can only mean one thing. Morpheus, your soulmate, is free.

An uncontrollable smile spreads across your face, cracking the dry skin of your lips. After 105 years, he is back.

Then, there’s a sinking in your chest.

He is back. But he is not here. Nor are you in the Dreaming.

As fast as your hope comes, anxiety blooms. Is he upset with you for abandoning your post? For not finding him? Does he even love you anymore?

You’re unsure on what to do next. Travelling back to the Dreaming may be a bad idea, especially if he is not happy to see you. But waiting here, in your cottage, may further his anger.

The newspaper rips in half between your hands. You hadn’t even noticed how taut you were holding it. Perhaps you should take some time to think your options over. It’s been a century, surly a few more hours won’t hurt.

---

It was decided. You’d wait a week to see if he came looking for you. After that, you would pursue him. The fear of his anger was great but nothing compared to the desire you had to see him again. You’d run your hands through his hair first, attempting to flatten the black bird’s nest, and stare into his eyes. Then, you’d gladly accept your punishment.

A voice in your head told you he’d come to you. That he loves and misses you as much as you do him.

The voice was wrong.

You’d waited by your window for days, staring into the garden and hoping for him. Sometimes a leaf would rustle, and you thought you saw sand blow in the wind, but he never appeared. You became increasingly anxious as you sat.

On the seventh day, you finally stood. Enough was enough, you would postpone no more. He may not love you anymore but you still loved him. 38 thousand days was enough, you needed to see him now.

With your head held high, you travelled into the Dreaming. The gate stood high above you and small smile graced your lips. You’ve come home.

Muscle memory led you to the doors before his throne room. Your hand hesitated, would he really be that angry? What if he cast you away?

You shook the thoughts away. The only thing that mattered right now was seeing him. Even filled with anger, his face was more beautiful than any other.

With a bated breath, you push the door open.

The chamber is empty, the silence is deafening. Your already fragile heart shatters, he is not here. He is not waiting for you. He is not even looking.

He loves you no more.

With glistening eyes, you head for the library. Lucienne has been there for you, she even helped you move into your cottage all those years ago. Your push the doors open and rush through the shelves of books, looking for her.

“Are you okay?” Lucienne emerges from behind a stack of books, eyebrows furrowed.

You run into her arms and latch on tightly. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around you. One of her hands rubs soothing circles on your back. The two of you stay like that for a few minutes and eventually, the waterworks stop.

Your eyes water as you step back, rubbing at your stuffed nose. Luci stays silent and watches as you regain your bearings. Her eyes are not judgmental, they are actually the opposite. You feel comfortable around her.

“He’s back, isn’t he?” Your voice is hearse as you ask.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“A week now.”

Your back bumps against a shelve as you take a step back.

“A whole week and he didn’t even look for me.” Your voice cracks, “I should’ve known.”

Lucienne furrows her eyebrows again.

“I always loved him more than he loved me,” you admitted. The backs of your eyes sting and you look down at your hands, unable to look at her. “but I thought he would’ve cared enough to,” you need to take a moment to stop from crying, “to at least miss me.”

You’re so caught up in your sorrow that you don’t notice as the library door flies open.

“That’s not t-“ Lucienne is interrupted as a man storms down the aisle.

“Where are they.”

Your head shoots up, you would recognise that voice anywhere. It’s him, he’s here.

“Lucienne, where are they.”

Even from behind, he is the most striking man you’ve ever seen. His hair is sticking up, black as always. He wears his robes; they make his shoulders looks strong. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, or the Raven on his shoulder. It’s not Jessamy.

“Lord, what do you mean?” Lucienne asks.

Dream takes a deep breath but he seems rattled. “I went to the address you gave me, the cottage. They were not there.”

Luci goes to speak but he talks over her.

“I have not seen my partner for 105 years.” His voice is deep, threatening. “You will tell me where they are right now or you will face the consequences.”

“Uh, sir-“ The bird speaks, staring right at you.

“Not now, Matthew.” Dream continues to look at Luci. “I have spent every day since my imprisonment thinking of them. Missing them. I will not wait a moment more.”

“But sir,” the raven speaks again. “They’re here.”

He let’s out an irritated sigh, “Matthew, now is not the time.” He turns his head to address the bird but stops when he sees you, standing there.

Fresh tears run down your cheeks; your eyes wide as you look up at him. He looks back, frozen in his spot.

Then, a massive smile curls his mouth. Eyes glistening, he hastily comes forward. You wrap your arms around him and hold on so tightly, it would crush a mortal man. He cradles your head, holding it to his chest.

You don’t know if you stood like that for a minute or 20 but eventually you pulled back. Your eyes meet each other, he’s crying. You’re crying. With one hand, you reach up and try to smooth down his hair. It doesn’t work. A smile sits on both your faces as you hold his chiselled jaw in your palm.

His voice is deep, the echoes of it vibrating through your chest. “My love, I have missed you.”

#dream #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #sandman netflix #tom sturridge #netflix the sandman #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #sandman universe #sandman 2022 #sandman series #neil gaiman #Neil if you see this not you didnt

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dalekofchaos · 2 months

Text

Friendly reminder. Bruce Wayne hung up the suit and retired after THREATENING someone with a gun and this was his reaction.

And then his immediate reaction is to shut down and close the Batcave and his only words were. "Never again"

A truly tragic, but fitting way for Bruce’s career to end. Powerful stuff. Batman's career ended the same way it began: with a desperate man wielding a gun

Batman choosing not to be weak like Joe Chill >>>> Batman going on a killing spree because fighting crime is hard.

And by the way, since Zack Snyder says his inspiration was Dark Knight Returns, I got news for you, TDKR Batman doesn't kill either.

Zack Snyder is a complete blithering fucking idiot.

his statement on Batman just lines up with what I’ve seen from all of his work. He likes the idea of the comics he makes movies out of but he doesn’t actually understand their themes. A Batman that kills is pointless. An edgy Superman is not only the most boring way to write him, but doesn’t make any sense without the wholesome one. That’s why injustice Superman/brightburn/Plutonian/omniman/homelander kind of make sense in their own ways because the original exists to compare them to.(mostly also boring though) His take on watchmen was pretty much devoid of any of the actual commentary from the graphic novel, but instead was just a dark justice league that were pretty bad at their jobs. Rorschach was just framed as a kind of unhinged Batman, but still a badass that does good, which is wildly generous compared to the way he’s originally written. I can understand turning your brain off and coasting through an action movie, but his fans are delusional if they think he does any of these stories justice. I wouldn’t take any of his comments seriously if they would stop letting him make these mediocre movies.

Zack Snyder is all flash and no substance. His films are visually stunning but utterly lacking in compelling storytelling.

The point of Batman is he cannot 'stoop to their level'. He HAS to be better, he HAS to believe these criminals can be rehabilitated, because if he kills them, he becomes just like them. With his wit, his intellect, he could future proof the city against crime ever happening by just killing the criminals before they commit crimes based on probable statistics and similar themes. But a Batman who refuses to kill is a murderer by inaction. Every time he chooses not to put Joker in the ground, he's allowed him to slaughter dozens, hundreds more, just for a laugh. Batman is equally guilty for every one of those deaths, because he could simply kill the Joker, and stop him from ever killing again. But he doesn't. Snyder saying Batman can kill, Batman SHOULD kill, is to say that without batman doing so, or being able to, he is just as bad as the villians. Except dipshit doesn't even have his Batman kill The Joker. "Oopsie daisy, Joker got out and bombed a hospital full of people, sowwwwyyyy, I put him back in jail again dunt worry TeeHeee :3". And then next week we do it all over again. OR. You kill the Joker, and he never hurts another person again. Which is why Jason Todd works so well as a counter to batman, and SHOULD be what Snyder is looking into. The reason why Zod works so well as a villain is because Humans are flawed apes who cant be trusted to govern themselves and should be conquered, and Superman, a literal God, could fix all that, but doesn't, because of Hope. Its foolish, childish even, to consider that a solution. And when placed in the vacuum of a comic book it works because you have to suspend disbelief, and forget that Superman let a city full of people die while he punched Zod through skyscrapers.

If you want Batman to kill people, just go and read one of his 1784956th copies that kill people. Go read Midnighter. Go read Punisher. Go read Moon Knight. Go read Peacemaker. Go read Nighthawk. What is stopping you?

I'm sure all those characters have brought about the peace and prosperity and the crime-free society that a "killer Batman" was supposed to. "Punisher would clean Gotham in under a week", right, just like he cleaned Marvel's New York, didn't he?

It has to be Batman specifically the one doing the killing? The number of superheroes that kill is nowadays much higher than the number of heroes who don't. Remember how Hawkeye spent the better part of his existence being the most anti-killing Avenger? Nowadays he is known as a super-assassin that "never had a non-kill rule". Should heroes who don't kill go extinct?

I like that Batman doesn't kill people. I feel no need to turn him into something he isn't like it was done to Hawkeye. If I wanted a Batman that kills, I would go and read one of the thousand "Batman who kills" out there.

Batman should not kill and should never kill.

"Gotham would be better off if Batman just killed The Joker"

You. Miss. The. Entire. Point.

Bruce Wayne lost his parents to crime and Bruce Wayne is a child who died alongside his parents and was reborn as a creature dedicated to insuring it never happened to any other child. He made a vow never to reduce himself to the criminal scum’s level or to Joe Chill’s level. He never kills for a reason.

Batman not killing is what makes him so compelling, if he kills criminals, there is no moral conflict, he is no better than the Punisher, Wolverine or any other dark edgy hero. Hell, if he starts to take a life, Batman is no better than Ra’s Al Ghul.

In the Daredevil Netflix show, Frank Castle told Daredevil this “That’s not how this works. You cross over to my side of the line, you don’t get to come back from that. Not ever.” That alone is why Batman should not kill, not even The Joker. Bruce Wayne is not Frank Castle, stop trying to make him Frank Castle. I mean…Stan Lee was absolutely disgusted when someone called The Punisher a hero, Frank Castle is a murderer, not a hero. How is this so hard for people to understand?

I don’t want to hear that Batman killed in the old comics and I don’t want to hear Elseworld stories. It’s an established fact that Batman does not kill and it’s a big part of his character.

Guess what? We already got a Bruce who killed The Joker, it happened in the Burtonverse/Schumacherverse and he was disgusted with himself. “So, you're willing to take a life.” “Long as it's Two-Face.” “Then it will happen this way: You make the kill, but your pain doesn't die with Harvey, it grows. So you run out into the night to find another face, and another, and another, until one terrible morning you wake up and realize that revenge has become your whole life. And you won't know why.”

A huge part of Bruce’s character is that he doesn’t kill, no matter what. Same with Clark. But edgelord writers from the New 52, DCEU and the Injustice abominations think it’s cool to make heroes kill. Heroes should not kill. You can’t be a hero and a killer. IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY!

Guess what would happen if Batman kills The Joker? The Joker wins. The Joker and Batman are each trying to prove a point to society - and really to us, the readers. The Joker wants Batman to kill him because he perfectly embodies chaos and anarchy and wants to prove a point to everyone that people are basically more chaotic than orderly. This is why he is so scary: we are worried he may be right. If the Joker is right, then civilization is a ruse and we are all truly monsters inside. If the Joker can prove that Batman - the most orderly and logical and self-controlled of all of us - is a monster inside, then we are all monsters inside, and that is terrifying. The Joker is terrifying because we fear that we are like him deep down - that he is us. Batman is what we (any average person) could be at our absolute best, and the Joker is what we could be at our absolute worst. The Joker’s claim is that we are all terrible deep down, and it is only the law and our misplaced sense of justice that keeps us in line. Since Batman isn’t confined by the law, he is a perfect test case to try to get him to "break.” The Joker wants Batman to kill a person, any person, but knows that the only person Batman might ever even remotely consider killing would have to be a terrible monster, so is willing to do this himself and sacrifice himself to prove this macabre point. Batman needs to prove that it is not just laws that keep us in line, but basic human decency and our natural instinct NOT to kill. If Batman can prove this, then others will be inspired by his example (the citizens of Gotham, but again, also the readers), just as we are all inspired every day to keep civilization running smoothly and not descend into violence, anarchy, and chaos. This ability to be decent in the face of the horrors and temptations present all around us is humanity’s superpower, the superpower of each of us. The struggle of Batman and the Joker is the internal struggle of each of us. But we are inspired by Batman’s example, not the Joker’s, because Batman always wins the argument, because he has not killed the Joker.

Batman not killing matters. Batman stories to me are the ultimate tale of turning pain and suffering into something positive. That is a story that everyone can relate to because let's be honest here. The world can suck. I've experienced and probably will always experience feelings of fear of depression of anger of angst. It's in my nature as a human being to experience those things. It's in all our nature it is what we choose to do with that pain that we all feel that defines us. Batman chose to turn all those negative emotions, he feels into a symbol that can bring people. Hope that Batman will save us from pain but more importantly hope that we can all be Batman. Why do we fall? And Batman Begins explains this best “Why do we fall sir? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Yes, Bruce Wayne is a flawed crazy person. He is at times mean stubborn and even abusive but he is still good. He is still someone we can aspire to be. We can try our hardest to be Superman but no human being can fly, but we can still try to be Batman We can all try to turn our pain into something good when I see Batman killing people or fans saying he killed before and he should kill The Joker, It pains me. It actually hurts my soul. Batman is not about finding a way to kill evil. But try to redeem it. His mission is an impossible task. Maybe he should kill people. Maybe he should kill The Joker, but what makes him fascinating what makes him a hero Is the fact that he has that moral code and stopped himself from crossing that line That's why I always looked up to Batman even as a kid despite all the adult subtext or mature themes superheroes are for kids. And killing is not Batman and it is not Bruce Wayne. This is why I hated the portrayal in the DCEU and the Burtonverse and why I really hated the implication that Batman killed The Joker in Batwoman. A Batman who kills is certainly not Bruce Wayne, that is an interpretation of Bruce Wayne that completely misses the point of Batman. It's easy to kill. Batman does not make the easy choice… Batman does not kill.

#DC #Batman #Batman Beyond #Bruce Wayne #Anti Zack Snyder #Anti DCEU

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katelynnwrites · 4 months

Text

One Single Thread Of Gold (Tied Me To You) | Laura Freigang x Sydney Lohmann

warnings: not proof read oopsie

word count: 4151

summary: the invisible string theory is the idea that those who are destined to meet will meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance. sydney and laura are two such people.

a/n: no i don't ship them together in real life, i just wanted to write this <3

Contrary to what most people think, Laura and Sydney have not known each other for that long.

Really, they’d only met in 2019.

Sydney had been trying to lock down her position on the senior team for a year when Laura got called up for the first time.

Of course, they had both heard about each other before that.

Laura had heard all about the younger midfielder who’s already becoming known as somewhat of a generational talent and the Bayern Munich player had heard all about the striker who is working her way up the Frauen Bundesliga’s top scorers list.

Like the sun orbiting the Earth, the Eintracht Frankfurt player and Sydney have been orbiting each other.

The two year age difference had kept them from meeting while on the youth teams, with Laura always being one age group ahead.

As fate would have it, one of them had always been out injured with one thing or another when their clubs played each other.

So it’s with nothing but knowledge of each other’s reputations that they meet.

And right away Sydney is sure that Laura is and will forever be the prettiest girl she has ever seen.

There was just something about her nervous energy and shy demeanor that pulled Syd in.

She was standing hesitantly to the side of the group, not really knowing anyone and not really being brave enough to approach just yet.

Ever the social butterfly, Syd separates from her Bayern teammates and walks up to Laura right away.

‘Hallo’ She greets.

The forward jumps slightly, having been startled by Sydney’s sudden presence.

‘Sorry h-hi. Hello.’ Laura stammers.

She holds out her hand and the midfielder grins, sticking out her own hand to shake Laura’s.

Laura who gets so lost in the Bayern player’s hazel eyes and brilliant smile that she doesn’t let go of Sydney’s hand.

It takes her at least a full minute to realise her mistake and when she does, she hurriedly drops Syd’s hand.

‘Fuck I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought about giving you a hug but I didn’t want to seem too forward and so I decided on a handshake but I think that’s too German of me? Doesn’t matter though, I made it awkward and now you must think I’m the weirdest person ever.’ Laura rambles, her cheeks rapidly growing redder and redder.

Sydney laughs, a bright melodic sound.

‘Not at all but we can start over if you’d like?’

‘T-That would be nice.’

The midfielder giggles again, ‘Hi I’m Syd and it’s really nice to meet you.’

‘Hey I’m Laura. It’s lovely to meet you too.’ The older player softly says.

A smile tugs on her lips and then Sydney unexpectedly pulls Laura into a tight hug, whispering in her ear, ‘And it’s not too much to hug.’

As the Eintracht Frankfurt player melts into the taller woman’s embrace, she notes that Sydney smells like a smell she had long forgotten existed.

She can’t even describe what the smell is like, all she knows is that at some point in her childhood she had smelt it and remembered feeling safe.

One could say that Sydney smells kinda like home to her.

******

The younger blonde doesn’t know what it is about striker but she just clicks with her.

They get along so well that after their first few camps together, anyone would think they have known each other for a lifetime.

Syd is aware that she’s been smitten with Laura from the very first moment they met.

She’s accepted that.

What she is finding completely out of her depth is the way the Eintracht Frankfurt player pays attention to her.

Laura is always watching, always listening and she catalogues her knowledge of Sydney like it’s her favourite thing to do.

She remembers the Munich native’s coffee order, her habits and what comforts her.

The striker focuses particularly on what makes Sydney happy.

Favourite flower, favourite books, favourite type of food. Laura knows it all.

And when Sydney questions it, the older woman simply replies, ‘Isn’t that what friends do?’

She says it so confidently and so easily that the blonde midfielder believes it.

She lets herself believe it for a long time.

Days turn into weeks, then months and eventually years.

Time is a curious thing. It gave no compasses and no signs as to when things would change between Sydney and Laura.

It is really not till the Euros in England that Sydney picks up on a clue that Laura may view her as more than just a friend.

Losing the final to the Lionesses is a hard blow but their team is determined to celebrate their own success.

So they throw a party in their hotel and the younger blonde is entirely surprised when the striker turns up in her jersey.

She’d not thought much of it when Laura had asked for one of her jerseys, simply thinking that the Eintracht Frankfurt player wanted it for her collection. She knows that Laura likes to swap jerseys.

But for all of their teammates and family members to be dressed up nicely and the forward to be aware of the fact and still make the decision to rep her name?

Well Sydney is starstruck by it.

She cannot stop looking at Laura who is dancing and bopping around to the loud music. She’s the life of the party.

She might have been shy when they initially met but now that she’s comfortable around the team, her outgoing personality is really shining through.

Some part she didn’t know existed inside of her loves her last name on the former Penn State player’s back.

Laura had paired the home jersey with light washed jeans and done her hair up in a messy bun. The midfielder appreciates the sliver of exposed skin on the taller woman’s stomach, courtesy of the way she has the top tucked up.

Her Olympus film camera is on its lanyard around her body.

That film camera had gone everywhere with the forward during their Euros journey and as Sydney continues being mesmerised by Laura, she comes to the startling realisation that she has been the main subject of Laura’s viewfinder.

She’d not thought about it before but now, she can’t help but think about every instance where Laura had taken a photo of her.

Casual photos of her in her street clothes, candid ones of her after games and simple ones where it was just her being herself in their hotel room.

Were there other clues that she didn’t see? And if so, how many?

Still, Laura doesn’t say anything or make a move so neither does Sydney. Even if Laura’s smile gives her butterflies and lights up her day.

******

The slightly older of the pair thinks time is mystical.

She’s known Sydney for four years now and it seems like no time has passed.

The time they spend at camp, joined at the hip just like they were at eighteen and twenty still never feels like enough.

They make the most of it but leaving back to their respective clubs have always been hard.

Laura misses Sydney like she’s missing some part of herself when they are apart. She can pinpoint the exact moment in time that she thinks the Bayern Munich player might feel the same way.

It’s not long after things have begun to go back to normal after Covid when Sydney takes full advantage and shows up to one of Laura’s games in Frankfurt.

The older blonde will never forget how warm her heart had felt when she spotted the midfielder in the crowd, just before halftime.

Sydney had shot her a wide grin as she noticed and Laura had played the rest of the match with a unique lightness.

She’d also gone all out to impress, scoring two more goals in the second half to complete her hattrick.

‘For you.’ The striker had murmured as she presented the match ball to Sydney.

Sydney who blushes a light pink and accepts it, before pointing out that it’s not yet signed.

Laura giggles before finding a Sharpie and signing it.

Then after a brief moment of consideration, she adds a heart.

The midfielder carefully brushes her finger over it, a soft smile growing on her face.

She tucks the ball under her arm protectively, ‘Thank you Lau. You played amazingly today.’

Now it’s Laura’s turn to have her cheeks flush.

’Did my best to put on a show cause I had a special someone watching today. Speaking of said someone, what are you doing here?’

Sydney laughs, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ear.

‘I had a couple days off and I thought I would surprise you. Seeing you at camp just isn’t enough.’

Laura swallows the rising emotion in her throat.

‘I missed you too.’

******

Sydney and Laura dance around their feelings for years.

After the Euros, they are both somewhat aware that the feelings they individually harbour are reciprocated.

But it is not till their Morocco trip, more than a year later that things actually change.

They’ve been shifting a bit with the two growing even closer than before in the lead up to the World Cup.

Germany is not doing too well and the anxiety, pressure and stress that builds draw them together, more than ever before.

They even lose their things in the airport together, Sydney her phone and headphones, Laura her passport for the ten most stressful minutes of her life.

They’re made for each other and yet they choose to mutually pine after one other.

When the younger German woman gets injured in the last training session before their first match of the tournament, Laura worries herself sick.

She’s physically ill with nerves and throws up as she waits for the Bayern Munich midfielder to get back from her MRI scan.

The striker couldn’t accompany Sydney to her scans because she had to finish up the training session with the rest of the team, so she is left to anxiously pace her and Lina’s shared apartment.

She keeps her phone close but as hard as she’s willing it to happen, does not receive any messages or calls from the younger blonde.

Laura is fearing that she might vomit again when there’s a knock on her door.

She flies to open it and nearly pulls Sydney into her arms when she sees her standing there.

The Eintracht Frankfurt player only doesn’t because of Sydney’s heavily bandaged knee and gently places her arms around the taller woman instead.

‘Just a slight sprain. Martina isn’t sending me home so I'll be available for selection after the first game.’ Sydney murmurs.

‘Syd…’ She sighs in relief.

‘I was so scared.’ The midfielder confesses shakily.

‘Me too. Me too.’

Laura holds Sydney closer and firmer, the two of them simply standing in the doorway for a long moment.

******

The way their World Cup run ends devastates them both but the midfielder more so.

Her sobs echo long into the night, Laura’s arms tightly wrapped around her waist, providing some semblance of comfort.

She cries and cries, the forward doing everything she can to assure Sydney that she did not let anyone down.

‘You were not selfish. You are not selfish. You had the courage to fail and that makes you the bravest person I know.’ Laura promises.

The shorter blonde tries to make her see that her two solo attempts on goal, in her only forty three minutes of World Cup playing time is an impressive feat. One that she should be proud of, given the pressure she had been under.

Sydney’s body shakes with the force of her emotions but she manages to turn her face into the side of Laura’s neck, burying it there.

The Eintracht Frankfurt player feels the drops of salty tears against her skin and eventually in the material of her shirt as they soak through.

Her own tears drip down the sides of her face and onto the pillow but she’s got the younger German woman in her arms so she is sure she is going to be alright. She puts her faith in the Bayern midfielder.

The woman in question is completely shattered but she knows that she will be okay because Laura’s got her.

Laura has never let her down before and Sydney has no reason to doubt her now.

******

It’s shortly after Christmas when Sydney finds out that Laura has a girlfriend.

Well she sorta finds out from social media.

She’s hanging out with a few of her club teammates at a dive bar and aimlessly scrolling through Twitter as she waits for Lina to come back with the drinks.

She doesn’t usually spend much of her time on social media but every now and then she does look through the various platforms.

A particular post catches her eye, her stomach dropping when she sees that it’s speculation on Laura’s love life.

The hazel eyed woman knows that fans can sometimes get carried away but when she clicks on the post, she realises it’s part of a thread.

The more she looks at the sequence of posts, the more uncertain she feels.

Laura would tell her if she were seeing someone right?

Sydney feels like her world is tilting off balance.

The striker means so much more to her then she lets on and now she can’t help but regret that decision.

She’s too late. The Eintracht Frankfurt player has moved on.

A weak exhale leaves her and she takes several deep breaths rapidly in a desperate attempt to steady herself.

It must not be working because there’s a hand on her shoulder, tapping her frantically.

‘W-What?’ She chokes out.

‘Sydney are you okay?’

‘Yeah why wouldn’t I be?’

Her voice sounds flat even to her own ears and Giulia clearly doesn’t buy it.

‘Syd are you sure? You look really pale.’

The midfielder does her best to feign coughing and stands up, saying, ‘I’m sorry but I actually think I’m coming down with something. I’ll take a rain check for our night out okay?’

‘Sure, feel better soon Syd. Do you want one of us to drop you home?’

Giulia, Lea and Maxi all offer to but Sydney shakes her head.

‘I’m okay to get home on my own. It’s not far anyway.’

‘Send me a text when you get home so that I know you are safe.’ Lea calls out as the German midfielder begins to leave.

Sydney gives a half hearted wave and quickly makes her way to her car.

As soon as she’s in the vehicle, she begins to cry.

She should have said something earlier, should have told Laura even a fraction of what she feels for her.

A fraction would have been better than nothing at all.

She thought she and Laura had been growing closer and she’s been working up the courage to say something for a while.

She should have worked faster because the older blonde has obviously gotten tired of waiting. She just thought that Laura was content with the way things were between them.

The forward never said anything so Sydney never thought otherwise.

Maybe she should have.

It’s perfectly bad timing on the former Penn State player’s part to call then.

The younger of the pair hesitates, staring at the ringing phone in her hand.

Laura’s contact is a familiar one and Sydney vividly remembers taking the photo for it.

She had sneakily snapped it with the shorter blonde’s own camera while she had been sleeping on the long plane ride to Australia.

Her hair is adorably mussed up in it and if one squinted, they can see drool in the corner of Laura’s open mouth.

Waru is featured too, the knitted koala having been loosely tucked into the striker’s arms as she slept.

The Bayern midfielder had never told Laura that she had been the one to take the photo but the older woman had known immediately.

She’d sent the photo, along with a rolled eyes emoji to Sydney as soon as she received the developed film photos back.

Sydney has never hesitated when it comes to the forward, except when it came to sharing her feelings for her.

Now as her finger hovers over the accept call button, she is terribly afraid that she is going to be responsible for her own heartbreak.

Biting her lip hard, she swipes to pick up the call.

‘Hey Syd!’ Laura excitedly greets.

‘Hi.’ The hazel eyed woman softly answers.

She tilts her head upwards, trying to keep a fresh wave of tears from falling.

‘Sydney? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. I’m okay Laura.’

There’s a brief moment of silence on the other end and then the striker gently says, ‘Syd you don’t sound okay…you sound like you’ve been crying…’

‘Haven’t been.’ Sydney tries to insist.

‘Sydney whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here for you no matter what.’

Laura’s tone is earnest and the younger blonde can no longer choke down the lump in her throat.

Gripping her phone tightly, she covers her mouth in a failed effort to stifle the broken sob that escapes.

‘Sydney? Syd please, what's wrong?’ The Eintracht Frankfurt player begs.

The midfielder doesn’t know it but Laura is pacing her apartment, close to tears herself because of how helpless she feels.

Sydney sounds so sad and in pain and she can’t help her because she doesn’t know why.

In her car, the Munich native lets out a trembling whimper.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?’

Her sentence is filled with a hurt so raw that Laura feels it all the way over in her different city.

‘I-I’m happy for you but I just…I just-’

The midfielder can’t continue, too focused on trying to breathe through her tears.

‘Syd I don’t have a girlfriend. Where did you hear that?’

At her words, Sydney feels her heart ease.

It’s like the tight band constricting it disappears. All of a sudden, her heart is beating properly again.

‘Y-You don’t?’ The hazel eyed woman tentatively stammers.

‘I don’t.’ Laura confirms.

‘I’m sorry. I saw a post on Twitter and I clicked on it and then it was a whole thread and I couldn’t stop looking at it. I’m sorry I lost my mind a little. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Sydney rambles.

‘Syd it’s okay. Really it’s okay. Social media can get to you sometimes.’ The striker reassures her.

Sydney lets out a relieved breath and whispers a small, ‘I’m sorry. I’m okay now I promise.’

It’s quiet on Laura’s end for a moment before she softly says, ‘Hey Syd? You never have to worry about me getting a girlfriend because you would be the first one to know if I did. I only have eyes for one person.’

’You do?’

If the midfielder’s voice was barely audible before, it’s tiny now.

‘Yeah.’

Laura’s own voice is minute too but she has never meant anything more.

******

It’s a week later at New Year’s that Sydney and Laura reunite.

The hazel eyed woman doesn’t say a word, simply walking into Laura’s arms as she stands waiting by the check in counter.

She fits perfectly into them, tucking her face into the side of the shorter blonde’s neck.

Her arms instinctively go around Laura’s waist and she presses a short kiss onto the striker’s sensitive skin.

Laura gasps faintly, staring at Sydney with wide eyes when she steps back.

‘What was that for?’

The midfielder simply smiles gently, ‘You aren’t the only one with eyes for only one person.’

******

Gold was the colour of the leaves on the tree in front of their rented villa.

It’s by the beach and Laura squeezes Sydney’s hand in hers as they pull their respective suitcases into the door.

There’s four bedrooms but the Bayern midfielder refuses to let go of the forward’s hand so with a bright grin, Laura tugs her into the closest bedroom.

Sam and Klara watch them go with a shared glance and rolled eyes.

Klara in particular knows that it’s been a long time coming. She’s seen the longing glances and noticed their growing affection towards each other.

Inside the bedroom, Sydney tosses her backpack on the floor and turns around to face the older German woman.

Laura’s about four centimeters shorter than her so she has to tilt her head upwards to meet the midfielder’s eyes.

‘Syd.’ She breathes.

‘Lau.’ Sydney whispers back.

She’s known for years that Laura is beautiful. She has had the colour of the striker’s eyes memorised and has dreamt of kissing her ever since they met.

The taller blonde is completely lost in Laura’s gaze, so much so that she misses the Eintracht Frankfurt player lunging for the stack of pillows on the bed until it’s too late.

‘Laura!’ Sydney cries out, reaching backwards for her own pillow.

The forward giggles, swinging her pillow at the Munich native.

Sydney eagerly makes up for lost time, joining in the pillow fight that Laura’s started.

‘I hope you know what you’ve begun.’ The midfielder teases.

Laura only smirks confidently in response and the two of them trade swats with the pillows until they physically can’t, laughing too hard to continue.

******

Time, wondrous time, gives Sydney and Laura the blues and then purple pink skies.

Morocco’s sunset is the most gorgeous that they’ve ever seen.

They’re sitting on the beach in front of their rented villa, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon on their final night before they fly back to Germany.

Sydney’s settled between the forward’s legs, contently leaning back against her chest.

Laura slips her hand into the midfielder’s, her heart warming when the younger blonde raises their joined hands and places a kiss onto the back of her hand.

It’s the latest in a series of kisses that Sydney has gifted the Eintracht Frankfurt player with over the duration of their trip. She’s placed them on the back of her shoulders, the inside of her wrists, cheeks, hands and forehead.

The past few days have been heaven for the both of them. They have learnt to surf, fooled around and soaked in the Moroccan sun with their friends.

They’ve also shared a bedroom and gone to sleep cuddled in each other’s arms every night.

It’s given the midfielder a kind of peace she has never experienced before.

‘Laura?’

Sydney’s murmur of her fellow blonde’s name is soft and tender.

The very sound of it gives Laura butterflies inside.

‘Yes Syd?’

‘I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve never felt what I feel for you for anyone else.’

Laura smiles and she lightly pulls Sydney closer to her.

‘I’ve never met anyone like you either. What I feel for you is beyond what I feel for anyone else.’

Sydney turns around, running her thumb across the striker’s cheekbone.

The action is immeasurably adoring and Laura instinctively leans into her touch.

‘Isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? Because there is no other way to explain how strong of a connection we have. I know that you’re it for me. You’re my person Lau.’ Sydney confesses.

Laura’s gray eyes shine.

‘You’re the only one for me too, Syd.’

The Bayern player gently cups the forward’s face, ‘What I’m trying to say is that I love you. I love you Laura.’

‘I love you too Sydney. Incredibly, ardently and with everything that I am.’

There is no hesitation in Laura’s answer. Why would there be when she’s known for years?

Sydney lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

‘Can I kiss you? Please Lau-’

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, the blonde striker pressing her lips onto Sydney’s and cutting her off.

Sydney gasps into Laura’s mouth, right away realising that she’s never going to have enough.

The taste of Laura is everything and more, the midfielder slipping her hands into the Eintracht Frankfurt player’s hair fervently.

She leans back after a minute, reluctantly breaking the kiss just to look at Laura and desperately try to memorise the moment.

Then she pulls her right back in.

With Sydney’s lips on hers, Laura is certain beyond belief that every other kiss she’s had in her life has been wrong.

There’s solely Sydney. Sydney is the only thing that matters.

******

Later as she curls up to sleep, tucked into her girlfriend’s side, she’ll tell her that she is so very grateful for their invisible string. The one that’s brought them together.

Sydney will agree and then kiss her again. And her kiss will take the very air out of Laura’s body and give it back. It will not matter that her girlfriend’s lips are already on hers.

All that she’ll want is Sydney, closer and closer and closer.

German Translation:

hallo - hello

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kyufessions · 6 months

Text

days like this

synopsis: your solo shopping day turns into a day with your boyfriend

pairings: boyfriend! chenle x g.n. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 0.8k

a/n: kinda dreamt about this so i had to write about it 🤭 also not proof read at all oopsies

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @jungsusvillain

“How about this shirt?”

You sighed, shaking your head in disagreement. “Anything but a black tee, babe.” you grab the shirt and put it back in it’s rightful place, making sure to fold it up somewhat correctly. “You have little to no color in your wardrobe.”

Your boyrfiend rolls his eyes, looking through the stack of shirts he likes. Unfortunately, no colorful ones stick out to him so he moves onto the rack of clothing beside the table of clothes. “I have some colorful clothes.” he grumbles under his breath, a pout playing on his lips as he speaks.

“Your basketball tees don’t count.” you tease, looking over at him and chuckling at his facial expression. He looks offended, a dramatic hand flying to his chest. Smiling, you start looking through the rack with him. You pick up a yellow graphic tee, one with a design you figured he'd like. “What about this one?”

As you hold it against him, he scrunches his nose as he looks down at himself. “The design is nice, i don’t mind it.” you watch him for a few seconds, examining his face to see if he’s lying. He continues looking down, really seeing if he actually likes it. Feeling your eyes burning into him, he meets your gaze and tilts his head confused. “What?”

You suck in your bottom lip between your teeth, squinting your eyes up at him playfully. “I cant tell if you’re serious or not.”

Chenle grabs the shirt from your hands, tossing it into the cart next to the pile of clothing you’re buying. Originally, today’s trip was just for you to do some shopping for some new clothes as you’re starting to outgrow your old ones. But since chenle had the day off as well, he tagged along and decided you both could do some shopping together. He just didn’t think he’d be confronted about the lack of rainbow in his closet and be dragged into the men’s clothing section of target.

“I like the shirt, baby. I’ll just have to get used to the color.” he watches your eyes sparkle under the retail lighting at his confession, smiling at you and cupping your face in his hands. He ignores your question to the sudden affection, knowing he’s not too fond of PDA. “you’re so cute.” he mumbles before pecking your face with several kisses, his smile never leaving his face.

You just allow whatever is happening, happen. Regardless of the other shoppers who may be looking at you two in the middle of the men’s clothing section being lovey dovey. you take in all of your boyfriend's love, giggling between his kisses. placing your hands on top of his, you wiggle your head in different directions as you pull away from him.

“what was that for?” you question, placing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose before letting go of his hands and starting to walk towards another rack of clothing.

chenle admires the blush refusing to leave your face, his happy grin staying permanently on his face. “you’re just so cute.”

looking back at him, you tug the cart closer to both of you as you take him by the hand and towards another rack of shirts. “i love you too.” he may not be good with words sometimes, but you knew exactly what he meant. or at least by now you’d had hoped you did. “come on, shopping isn’t done yet.”

grumbling, his pout returns as his bottom lip pokes out at you. as you show him shirts, he doesn’t do much looking at them. but rather let’s you choose what you think would look best on him- he trusts your judgment and prefers admiring you instead.

“what happened to being a golden retriever and black cat?” chenle asks randomly as you had finished putting more clothes in the cart.

you start walking down the aisle towards the pants, the cart in front of you as he walks beside you the best he could maneuver around the tables and mannequins. “we still are, but what if i want to be the black cat sometimes?” you stop in front of the jeans, looking for ones that fit his style the best until you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. looking back, you see him staring down at you lovingly. “what’s up with you today?” you tease, adding a small laugh afterwards to further add that you’re joking.

“i just love days like this with you.” is all he says before placing his head on top of yours, looking at the jeans you had in your hand. “plus, you can never be the black cat.”

you roll your eyes, hitting his arm softly with the jeans in your hand. “i can be if i wanted to.”

he shakes his head with a hum, grabbing the jeans and checking the size. “maybe one day.”

instead of leaving with clothes for just yourself and some items for your apartment, you left with a long receipt with items printed on it totaling up to hundreds of dollars. but you would do it all over again and again if it meant spending another waking moment with chenle.

#kyufessions nct #nct #nct dream #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #zhong chenle #chenle #chenle fluff #zhong chenle fluff

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vaguely-concerned · 5 months

Text

I’m on a Star Wars books roll so here we go with my — unhinged thanks for asking! — thoughts on Dooku: Jedi Lost, specifically the audio play. Short version: I fucking loved this one! For maximum emotional devastation, pair with Master and Apprentice and Padawan the way my stupid ass did and then be sad about it forever I guess that's what I’m going to have to do.

Long (LONG oopsie) version:

- So. First of all, let’s get the most important thing out of the way on this here old man yaoi website. We all agree dooku and sifo dyas explored each other’s bodies right. Or at least definitely would have if not for the laws of this order etc., potentially. That’s not just me. Good. Thank you. We can now move on

- Secondly. Well. Guess I’m just going to be inconsolable about Sifo-Dyas forever now. I miss the days in which he was just a throwaway line in AotC spawned by a random misspelling to me, rather than an eternal raw aching wound in my heart

- poor poor ventress just reading through all the proof that dooku absolutely does have it in him to be a good dad I mean master and just — idk got tired of that and went the force lightning route with her. I love the move of having her dead master hang out with her all that time as well (having her slip up and refer to ‘us’ did something to me, god this is so sad. Is he actually there in spirit or is it just her grief dreaming him up because dooku is awful and cold as a cliff wall and she needs some kind of attachment figure even if she’ll have to reinvent him herself, rebuild him word for word, gesture by gesture. Pain. sorry about your terrible track record with father figures asajj)

- Lene: (About Averross): He hasn’t changed.

Dooku: (In the warmest fondest voice you ever heard) And I hope he never does

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MYSELF? MUST I SET MYSELF ON FIRE TO ESCAPE THE PAIN???

Another strong showing for Rael in general, btw. He’s so warm and charming as a presence even though he’s also a little chaos gremlin. (He’s quite similar to how Sifo-Dyas was when he was young in some ways, I can definitely start to see what Dooku responds warmly to in terms of character traits.)

- the fact that good ol’ sheev showed an interest in rael, dooku and anakin… interesting huh! He’s just got a soft spot for the disaster lineage I suppose, maybe there’s an element there of luring yoda’s most direct lineage into the dirt with him without yoda even noticing for the longest time. Also cackling at the idea that he looked at qui-gon ‘too fucking stubborn and insufferable to fall to the dark side out of sheer spite’ jinn and went ‘...not that one tho’ fhdskjfa. And obi-wan is more like ‘that one blorbo all my little guys seem wild about but I just don’t get it guys’

IF rael’s refusal to join dooku at the end of ‘master and apprentice’ is the last word (which I am not convinced of ;___; be safe cowboy jedi we never see in mainline canon so far), then he’s the only one who has dodged palpatine’s attentions. Wonderful if true love that for him

ALSO rael is one of the few people we know to be on (or at least to consider himself on despite what palps might think lol) first name basis with palpatine. Hilarious. I concur with dooku never change rael

- Sifo-Dyas: That’s insane.

Dooku, deadpan: Yes.

Sifo-Dyas: The worst plan I’ve ever heard.

Dooku, somehow even more deadpan: Most probably.

Sifo-Dyas: I’m in.

Crying… weeping and dying………… what if someone could have helped sifo with his unfortunate prophecy propensity and they hadn’t drifted apart. Clone Wars averted methinks if dooku still ended up leaving the order he would have been too busy having tender gay sex with the love of his life (and only person who can call him out on his shit and have him actually listen) to be a war criminal (I am being extremely facetious of course this is very much a ‘time traveler killing baby hitler’ situation where the underlying forces causing this point in history are way too powerful to avert the catastrophe in one move. but at least palps would probably have had to pick someone else to wreck the galaxy through and sifo-dyas would be kissed & held instead of going slowly mad. A net plus some (I, me) would say)

- I just wanted to applaud both the writing and the voice acting for the characterization of Dooku in this, from his young self trying so hard to be haughty and self-possessed but also being like, y’know, twelve and a dweeb and easy for Sifo-Dyas to pull into trouble, to the dry wit and warmth he shows with Rael and Qui-Gon or his sister later. It took me a little while to get into the voice acting specifically (the actor makes no attempt at going the full Christopher Lee, which in hindsight was probably wise), but now I love it. It gets a bit goofy in places but you know what, I am a long time lover of audio plays, that’s part of the charm

- “Master, have I done something wrong?”

My heart is clenching… do you think… that master yoda’s deal with leaving his student to try fucking everything to have some kind of relationship with him until he just breaks down in tears of despair… is the kind of thing that maybe started a little bit of a generational trauma cartwheel through the ages. The point that bb!dooku is arrogant isn’t without merit and he strikes out incredibly ungracefully about it (in fact I would be a lot more worried than yoda seems to be that he decides to try to kill a tree about it, ‘I felt like destroying something beautiful’-style) but I just don’t think a… fourteen year old? A teen anyway, Is going to learn what you think he learns from this. I simply don’t believe that silent treatmenting kids will teach them emotional intelligence I guess especially if they already struggle with that naturally lol

(It is exactly the same mistake (in my opinion) that Qui-Gon makes with Obi-Wan, too, just leaving the kid completely alone and forcing them to come to you every which way for comfort or guidance instead of meeting them or reaching out to them. Especially once you see that really Dooku’s prime emotion/big core wound right from the beginning is loneliness. And that doesn’t only come from a feeling of superiority (which to be sure is also a big factor), because he has no idea where he comes from until he meets his sister. I don’t think the jedi as a whole were unsalvageable by any stretch of the imagination, but Yoda specifically… you are on such very thin ice with me at this point you little green fuck. You’re very funny and moving in yoda dark rendezvous and that’s all that’s keeping you in my somewhat good graces.)

- Okay, coming back a bit later I think I’ve found the right words to say this. more precisely dooku has two big issues which you can later see haunting all the way down his lineage — loneliness and control. (and not incidentally the intersecting elements of the two haha.) We see from his relationship to sifo-dyas that he’s not incapable of having close mutual relationships with an equal, but that kind of crashed and burned for reasons neither of them could really help and after that it seems quite telling that he has the easiest time with deeper connection in a teacher-student sort of form. I think his affection is unconditional and real, but you can’t get away from the fact that he also has the most control in that relationship structure by default, he gets to dictate what form it takes to a big extent. He doesn’t trust other people — the underlying idea ‘Only I can do this’ that eventually leads him down the Separatist path is there the whole way. It speaks both to a sense of superiority and an utter lack of faith that other people can or will help him. And then that echoes down through the master-padawan line:

Qui-Gon with his self-righteousness and utter refusal to compromise leaving him isolated among the jedi (only he is right. Yeah the Force told him so. Don’t worry I’ve got a permit *insert parks and rec I can do whatever I want meme here*), Obi-Wan with his anxiety and perfectionism and incredible sense of shame and responsibility that he should be able to carry the whole world on his shoulders alone and beating himself up for failing, all feeding into not knowing what to do with Anakin and his complete lack of control of himself and his desperation to gain and maintain connection and love (which earns him the title of ‘Dooku’s least favorite family member’ fhdsa his immediate disdain for him is so funny and so in character. Repress and go slowly mad like a normal person anakin the way you’re carrying on is just undignified and that is much worse than being evil)…

- Rael gently telling Dooku to take on another padawan soon… so sweet, so sad, local cowboy jedi looking out for his dad. Also highlights something about Dooku I think is true: that he does much better and seems to have an easier time holding to the light when he’s responsible for someone else. Again, I do feel like Dooku’s core problem is loneliness, but it seems like raising kids is the one point where that relaxes somewhat. Maybe if Sifo-Dyas had stayed in a better mental place and they kept in touch it could have been different.

- Lene Kostana is SUCH a character! Charismatic and deeply fucked up, when it’s revealed how her and Sifo-Dyas’ relationship remains long after his padawan stage is done I felt a little bit sick, to my surprise. Because that could just be kindness on her part, of course, it’s good that he has someone he trusts to look after him when he can’t himself, but also there’s something… queasy about the way it keeps him continually young, in a way. (Notably he still calls her ‘master’ even as an adult, when they’re working together. Not uncommon in Star Wars, of course, but together with everything else going on vibes-wise… hm.) The inherent unreliable narration of this story really worked for me in this regard especially — do we know that young Dooku was entirely wrong when he sensed the dark side in her? She certainly is willing to go to lengths that are… worrying! in her fascination with sith shit, she tempted children into a dangerous place they didn’t understand and couldn’t know the consequences of and she continually puts sifo-dyas in situations that are implied to be a risk to worsening his condition. Run of the mill incredibly irresponsible at best, sincerely sinister at worst. Did she choose Sifo over Dooku because he’s more vulnerable and shapeable? There is an undercurrent of something icky and emotionally incest-y going on with how she relates to Dooku and Sifo-Dyas in general (right down to the ‘NO, no one can know about this’ intensity after the… evil moss cave. I can’t believe I’m this emotional about a book with an evil moss cave). I don’t think she’s a proper sith in any way and I also believe there is real affection there on all sides, but idk something about the whole thing makes me deeply uneasy. Yoda where the fuck are you your son is out there with his irresponsible mom again they’re looking for dirty needles in haystacks and they’re not even wearing any gloves

- dooku telling sifo-dyas he can come back to haunt him if he likes as a joke… well well well I’m sure that doesn’t ring with some dramatic irony at some point down the line lmao

- honestly looking back at master and apprentice after reading jedi lost makes qui-gon's apparent lack of reaction to dooku leaving seem — let's call it highly suspect haha. rael asks him if he's spoken to dooku after and qui-gon is like 'no. why would I. it's literally fine. anyway this topic is done now'. (and rael seems to just go ‘*older brotherly knowing* uh-huh’) meanwhile he's thinking about dooku *all the time* trying to figure out his role as master to obi-wan, thinking about being a padawan himself, the parts of his life he shared with both dooku and rael. The jedi doth protest too much methinks

ALSO how much of qui-gon thinking the council was too lenient with rael after he had to kill his padawan is about that actual situation, and how much is a ‘our family still likes my older brother more than me even though he Fucked Up so bad and breaks just as many rules as I do’ sort of deal mixed with his own neuroses about how he’s failing obi-wan (to which rael’s situation symbolizes the worst possible outcome, i.e. the kid dies and it’s basically your fault). Many thoughts.

- moment of silence for jenza of house serenno. Girl your only sin was being surrounded by asshole male family members and I’m so sorry I think you did all you could with what you had to work with here.

Not… entirely sure how dooku’s claim to the title supersedes hers — is he a year older than her? (she’s eleven when they first meet, he might be twelve or older at that point I don’t remember haha) Does she just give up her place in the inheritance order? Are primogeniture and male heir preference factors in Serenno inheritance law? Not the most important thing honestly it works anyway thematically but could have been clarified quickly!

- interesting to see that the council’s restrictive policy against engaging with prophecies had a surprisingly big impact on how things went down. Kostana has a lot of responsibility in Sifo’s fate for insisting he keep it secret, but there is genuine fear for what might become of him if the rest of the order finds out he’s got 24/7 futurevision hovering over him threateningly… listen it’s not like the poor guy can help getting the future constantly pumped into his brain at nightmare resolutions, I think maybe if there had been more willingness to at least engage curiously with the concept of prophecy and how it works, even if you don’t put your faith in the particulars of what the prophecies say, this wouldn’t have had to be such a shitty isolated secretive life for him. hearing him slowly fall apart over the years considering how bright and lovely he started out... oof is all I can say

- when dooku was a good jedi he was such a good jedi!!! The scene where they’re saving the kids from the collapsing hospital, every time he teaches his students anything…the impulse of someone has to do something about this! that made him so good at saving lives turning dark with the tarnish of frustration and rage over the years… nooooooooo problematic grandpa why did it have to be like this :(

- …do you think infant jedi can sense what’s going on around them in the Force. Because it makes a very sad kind of sense if dooku on some level remembers bodily or in the Force that he was not only abandoned but rejected in disgust as one of the first things he discovered in the world. Oh boy. With all the ways attachment relationships can go wonky in the first few years in real life I don’t even want to consider how much more wrong it can go when the baby is fucking psychic lol

- vaguely related: the way dooku seems to find the very idea of being truly reliant on anyone, emotionally or otherwise, personally offensive, terrifying and humiliating lol. Yoda saves him from being crushed by rubble and he is outraged because that means he can’t save himself (and his newfound sister) without anyone’s help like he thought for one glorious moment he could. The fantasy of perfect emotional self-sufficiency, doing away with all the messiness and risk of interpersonal relationships and cutting off the possibility of really being abandoned again. It’ll get ya every time. This is also a thing you see reflected in his lineage — they’re all quite inward-turning that way until you get to anakin, to different extents and with varying presentations but it is there I think. Qui-Gon turns to the Force, Obi-Wan to perfectionism and shame and rumination, Rael to the bottle and depression and hedonistic apathy, but they all struggle hugely with letting anyone in to help them. Dooku’s line are all much more comfortable being the helpers rather than the helpees, as it were.

- “Thank you for everything, Lene. Tell Rael and Qui-Gon — tell them… tell them the Force will be with them, always”

Emotional terrorism against me specifically and personally. You asshole you just excused yourself from the non-attachment rules there’s literally nothing in the world except you to stop you from reaching out and telling your children you love them yOURSELF why are you like this

- the recurring theme of dooku seeing something beautiful (the tree in the temple, the tirra’taka as a child and an adult) and ending up lashing out to destroy it… but the tree was old and mighty and he was young and new and couldn’t truly harm it, so he was saved from his own impulsivity. And then when he sees the tirra’taka as an adult he loves it immediately. And in the end he still mangles and destroys it. He didn’t mean to, but he did. He woke it up and hurt it just by existing as a child and then he had to kill it as a mercy because he was too powerful at that point for anything to buffer his mistakes. The parallel with the bird he loved that he also couldn’t protect. He starts out with an aching loneliness somewhere at the core of him through no real fault of his own but by the end it is entirely his own fault that it’s worse, because he starts wrecking everything he loves in an almost absent-minded but definitely intentional way, like it’s a nightmare he’s listening to through the door as it happens in the next room over. He really IS the ‘I just felt like destroying something beautiful’ central of the jedi.

at the end qui-gon is dead and through dooku’s own influence, however indirectly. Rael has had to turn away from him. Sifo-Dyas is dead on Dooku’s own orders and so is his sister, he might as well have done it with his own hands. (though I think it’s very interesting that in each case he didn’t do it with his own hands, he consistently uses a middleman.) He lives within the coldness of his sterile empty castle and horrifically mistreats the one person he might have found something like connection with the way he did with his students before (Ventress), deliberately trapping her in a similar state of utter desolate isolation and telling her, essentially, ‘We’re like this as people and nothing can be done to change it. We can’t escape, we’re already doomed, stop trying, it’s too late. You are just like me (and if you aren't already I'll make you like me)’. And that’s the closest thing he gets to love anymore. When he accused Ky of using her ‘as a salve for his own loneliness’ and you’re like well well well mr projection man how’s that working out for you. He is completely, shatteringly alone and he is so entirely as a consequence of his own actions and he's too far gone to understand or care. I’m howling you useless fucking FOOL dooku

- dooku 🤝 john gaius

“Hm. I have observed that there are in fact many flaws in our society and the government is deeply corrupt. So if I kill a few billion people here and there in order to fix it, is that not basically okay when you really think about it”

Dooku making salient points about the political and ethical failures of the Republic and then, just when you think he’s onto something, he goes and makes The wildest fucking decisions about what to do about it. Sure. dark magic and genocide are probably the only ways out of this you’re so right bro. If we make enough minuses to add together surely we’ll end up in plus sooner or later

- *head in my hands once more* I can’t believe I am genuinely emotionally invested in someone called Count Dooku with the looks of a knockoff dracula and ultimate moral character to match right now this is terrible. hey. hey dooks. what you have to go and fuck everything up so bad for huh I’m so incredibly sad now

there is something to be said about how getting to see glimpses of what dooku looked like in the light makes it so much more heartwrenching that he never came back. he could have, a thousand times. and every time he chose not to.

#star wars #dooku jedi lost #count dooku #sifo dyas #dooku x sifo dyas #disaster lineage #lene kostana #star wars meta #rael averross #qui gon jinn #I'm being peak on my bullshit in this one. you're welcome and/or I'm sorry as appropriate

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cheolsfae · 4 months

Text

𑁍SVT reaction to finding you asleep on another member's shoulder

Requested: Nope!

Genre: angst-ish?, fluff

Warning(s): Terms of endearment, slight swearing, not proof read

A/N: Got carried away with Coups! Oopsy! I swear I'm a loyal Vernon stan!

Feed back and re-blogs are appreciated! ✨️

𔘓Seungcheol (S. Coups)𔘓

He felt like he'd get into trouble if Seungcheol had walked in right now and saw that you, the leader's partner, asleep on his team member's shoulder. He was kind of nervous about it but he also didn't want to do anything about it considering you had finished rambling about how tired you were because you were not getting enough sleep. But his shoulder was tired what was he to do? He had two options: 1. Leave you here, resting on the hard bench, and have Coups get angry at him for leaving you like that or 2. Call him and risk having Coups get jealous/annoyed that you were resting on his friend. Either way, it wasn't a good outcome. Chan was so lost in thought that he hadn't realized that Seungcheol was standing right in front of him. The older of the two crossed his arms, obviously annoyed. He cleared his throat to get the younger's attention. Dino's head snapped up, "It's not what you think!" He half shouted/whispered. He didn't say anything and gave Dino the get-lost look. Dino lifted your head gently off his should and moved and made room for Coups to sit. After Coups was adjusted in the seat Chan split. He wanted nothing more than to leave.

𔘓Wonwoo𔘓

Yes, he'd seen you dozing off on the couch waiting for him to finish up his game before leaving the office but he truly thought he wouldn't be much longer. So, when he'd seen you asleep on Coups shoulder, he wasn't surprised. Last time he checked in on you, you and Coups had been laughing at Tiktoks together. Twenty minutes later, your passed out on his shoulder. Made sense. "Sorry," He whispered over to his friend. Seungcheol brushed him off, it wasn't a big deal to him. Wonwoo walked on over to you two turning around, getting low enough, "Help me get them up on my back." Coups did so and the two of you were on your way home.

𔘓Mingyu𔘓

It had been a long time since you'd last gotten some proper rest. Between school, work, and all the little things you had to do, there wasn't time for you to rest. He knew that you were pushing yourself too much. How many times had he told you over the past week to take a day or two to catch up on it? Too many to count. So, to find you fast asleep on Wonwoo's shoulder wasn't much of a surprise. He hated to admit it but he was a little jealous. Anyone who was in the proximity of the trio would know it the instant they looked at Mingyu. It didn't help that Wonwoo was also fast asleep too, his head resting atop yours. He sighed, not really know what to do when Seungcheol clasped his shoulder, "Their tired. Let them both sleep a little longer then you can wake them up." And that's exactly what he did, no matter how much that jealousy bubbled in him.

𔘓Vernon𔘓

You'd been staying up way too late, recently. Much more than usual. You'd been studying for your upcoming finals. So to see that you'd fell asleep on Mingyu wasn't that much of a shocker to him. Vernon didn't really mind it. You looked pretty comfortable. He didn't want to disturb you. Mingyu on the other had was busy taking cringey pictures of you. No, you weren't drooling or anything like that, just bad angles like the little fiend he was. Vernon wasn't stopping him, in fact, he was doing the exact opposite! He was egging him on! "Send me those! I wanna make it my wallpaper!"

𔘓Joshua𔘓

There the two of you sat. One of his earbuds in your ears, fast asleep on his shoulder with him also asleep, drooling slightly; his head against the back of the chair and his mouth slack. He quickly took a picture at the two of you. He would use it later to tease you both. He picked your head off of Vernon, putting it on his own. He plucked the ear bud from your ear, giving it back to Vernon. Feeling something land in his hand, he'd woken up looking confused and dazed. "Go back to the dorm, get some sleep." He didn't need to be told twice. Off he went, leaving you and Joshua in the lounge. Wasn't the best sleep, considering you'd woken up with a neck cramp but it was good enough for you. After you'd woken up, Josh had shown you the picture he'd taken of you guys. you'd never live this down!

𔘓Jeonghan𔘓

He sighed upon seeing the you passed out on his friend's shoulder. How long had he kept you waiting? Couldn't have been more than ten minutes. Yet, here you were asleep on Joshua's shoulder. "One minute they were talking about what you guys had planned, the next their asleep." Joshua was just as confused as your partner was. Well, you had mentioned recently that you hadn't been getting much sleep due to too much stress. "Sorry, let me get them." Joshua shook his head no, "Let them sleep." After a while, you'd woken up. Joshua had been long gone by that point. Somehow, you ended up on Jeonghan's shoulder. "Next time, tell me that you're too tired. We can just go nap instead of going out for a date." He ruffled your hair, you smiled sweetly and went back to sleep.

𔘓Jihoon (Woozi)𔘓

This was the second time this week that he had been running late on date night. So, late in fact, that as soon as he walked out of the studio you'd been asleep in Jeonghan's shoulder while he sat there scrolling idly on his phone. Jihoon sighed, "Let me get them. Sorry." Jeonghan looked up at him, "Hurry my shoulder has gone stiff. I don't know if I can move it anymore." He joked, obviously he didn't mind you sleeping on him otherwise he would have moved. Jihoon rolled his eyes, "Sorry Y/N, Jeonghan said your head is too heavy." You lifted your head, waking up, and seeing your cute partner. A sleepy smile lighting up your face. "You ready to go on our date?" Woozi chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Of course, let's go."

𔘓Seokmin (DK)𔘓

His jaw dropped at the sight of you, resting your sleepy little head on to Jihoon. You looked so cute! What was he to do with himself? He was trying his absolute hardest not to squeal at you! He didn't want to wake you up. Woozi rolled his eyes at his team mate, "They're just sleeping. What's the big deal?" Seokmin laughed, "They're drooling on you and it makes it all that much cuter!" Woozi clicked his tongue, lightly pushing you off of him.

"Let them sleep!"

"Not if they're drooling on me! Let them drool on you!"

𔘓Seungkwan𔘓

We know he's a little bit of a drama queen. We love him for that though! So when he saw you fast asleep on Seokmin's shoulder, pft! It was over for you. He felt like you'd cheated on him! How could you? After you'd woken up, he was being a little curt with you. Very short. Very passive aggressive. "Come on, how was I supposed to know I'd fall asleep on him? It was an accident and I'm sorry!" You immediately knew what he was upset about. You guys had been watching a movie and you'd fallen asleep. "I was sitting on the other side of you! My lap or shoulder were free!" You sighed heavily, this was spiraling. "I'm sorry. Really." He stayed silent, he was getting sulky now. "Fine, I'll forgive you. But if it happens again, you're sleeping on the couch." You wouldn't have this pouty man any other way.

𔘓Soonyoung (Hoshi)𔘓

Shocked, he didn't know really how to respond when he picked you up from studying with Seungkwan. This was definitely not what he was expecting. Seeing you laying on Seungkwan's shoulder fast asleep with you textbooks open and splayed out in front of the two of you. "I thought you said you guys were just studying?" He asked the younger. "We were, they just fell asleep. Come get them, their killing my shoulder." And that's exactly what he did. When you guys got home that night, he was all pouty, "Sleeping on Boo...Can't believe you."

"It was a boring topic! I couldn't help that I fell asleep!"

𔘓Jun𔘓

Soonyoung had facetimed him. "Look at your partner!" He whispered, careful not to wake you up. Jun chuckled a little. You looked absolutely adorable in his eyes. "Come get them or I'm leaving them here!" He focused the camera only on himself now before quickly hanging up the phone. Jun booked it as quickly as he could. When he arrived, he was completely out of breath from all the running. You were already wide awake. He looks between the two of you goofing off. He looked between the two of you, you two looked back at him. "Hi, hon! Why are you out of breath?" You asked, with concern on your face. "Because I thought he was going to leave you here." You laughed, "No! I wasn't going to leave them here! It was a joke!"

𔘓Minghao(The8)𔘓

You'd been so busy lately with work and other things. So when you fell asleep on Jun and he walked in and saw you, he was kind of upset about it. He really wished you'd taken better care of yourself. He'd been trying to get you to take some time for yourself but you weren't having any of it. This wasn't much of a surprise. "Thank you for taking care of them while I was busy." Jun's head shot up from his phone screen, looking at his friend. "No problem. They were excited to see you and then pft." He smiled, he was happy to hear that. What had he done to deserve you?

𔘓Chan𔘓

Pouty! How could you even sleep on another member's shoulder? This was one of the worst kinds of betrayals he's felt! It was a stab to the heart! That is until...he woke up from his dream. He was still in this mood when he walked into the kitchen where you were. "You owe me an apology." He glared at you. You looked at him with complete confusion in your eyes, what the hell was he talking about? You hadn't done anything to upset him, at least as far as you knew. "You cheated on me." Again, another confused look was on your face. "You were laying on Minghao's shoulder fast asleep! How could you?" When had that happened? "Did you have a dream or something? 'Cause I'm more than positive that didn't happen."

"Yes, I had a dream."

You rolled your eyes laughing a little bit, "I would never do that! Only to you!"

He sighed, "Better not."

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