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My thoughts on Chimney Punching Buck:
Okay so I’ve seen a lot of Chimney hatred becuz of this scene in particular and it upsets me becuz Chimney was right. I said it.
Now do i think him punching buck was right? No. Do i think he had his reasons and took them out it the wrong fashion? Yes.
Everyone seems to think that Chimney was being irrational in this situation and Buck was a holy saint who did nothing wrong. No. Buck was wrong this time.
Let’s look at Maddie. Maddie has been alone for years. Her parents abandoned her for their grief and she had to raise Buck alone, and then she entered an abusive relationship where she couldn’t get help for years. She was never wanted or desired. And yes Buck loved her but he was a child and couldnt provide the love she deserved.
Maddie running away from Chim and Jee was becuz she felt like she didnt deserve them. She didn’t feel like she was worth saving.
She NEEDED someone to run after her. To show her that she IS wanted, she IS needed.
Buck kept her location a secret from Chim becuz he still looks up to her like a child would to a parent in some ways. He has a bit of a hero worship for her in some ways and doesnt really understand the extent to which she needs help becuz shes been such a strong figure for him their entire life and hasnt really let him see her be weak.
Chimney on the other hand HAS seen her at her worst and knows her intimately. He knows she needs someone to love her with their entire being and thats what he did by running after her. She needed to know she wasn’t alone and Chim did that for her.
And Chim punching Buck was when he was at the height of his emotional breakdown. He was terrified, upset, probably running on very little sleep, of course he was going to snap. I don’t think he should’ve punched Buck but i don’t that makes him the devil.
And neither does him ignoring Buck. He’s obviously frustrated becuz thats his everything right there and he cant find her. She could be dead for all he knows and Buck kept it from him.
Both of them have their flaws in this situation but Chim knew what Maddie needed and Buck didn’t. And Buck’s not in the wrong for not seeing that, he just didn’t know and needed to learn that.
#i hve so many thoughts abt this#funnier way to put it: the punch was literally such a sibling thing to do#having a disagreement and getting into a physical fight over it is exactly something that has happened between me and my sister#and then giving them the silent treatment? yeah siblings#i think we should talk abt that more#buck and chim siblingism#911 abc#911 show#911 fox#evan buckley#evan buck buckley#howard chimney han#chimney han#maddie buckley
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Episode 24: Trade Deal
spencer reid/gn!reader
i started this bc i was ill and feeling sorry for myself and it turned into a very not to me not if it’s you kind of vibe, mostly bc i frankensteined a couple of my favourite translations of That Scene so they could have their own version🥰🥰
series masterlist
word count: 1.5k // warnings: reader has a cold and all the grossness that comes with it, spencer is so Cute™️ it causes me physical pain
summary: In which Spencer Reid, known germaphobe, pretends he doesn’t know exactly how many pathogens have made their home in your sinuses.
It starts with a scratchy throat on a Tuesday morning.
You don’t think much of it, blame it on seasonal allergies, knock back a multivitamin - you’re not about to be bested by a cough of all things. That is, until it gets to Friday afternoon. You’re trying, you really are. Your immune system has other plans.
“You stay right there, Patient Zero.”
Rossi’s comment would be funny if you didn’t think that laughing might trigger a coughing fit that could very well be the end of you, right there in the doorway of Hotch’s office. That’d be one hell of an epitaph - too stubborn to take a sick day, choked to death in boss’s office. Hotch, at least, already seems to know why you’re hovering.
“I’m-“
“Going home, I hope.” He interrupts you with all the fondness of a concerned father. You don’t have the energy to argue, or to hold up an unaffected front. The men standing by the window soften a little as they watch you visibly deflate. Dave promises to send you his Nonna’s minestrone recipe, there’s nothing it can’t cure; right now, though, you’re only thinking about your bed.
The well wishes follow you through the bullpen, old wives tales and family cures that have never failed. JJ tells you to sweeten your tea with honey, Derek swears that a hot water bottle on your back will work magic. Even Emily pipes up from behind her germ shield, the folder held across her face so you can only see her eyes, and tells you to take a hot shower first thing in the morning - the steam will clear you out for the day. There’s a chorus of agreement, or disagreement you’re not sure. It’s a struggle to hear much over the cotton wool in your ears.
“We’ll see, with any luck I’ll die in my sleep. Love you!” You sniffle as you back out of the office, feeling all kinds of sorry for yourself, and determined to make it as far as you can without touching anything. Lest you actually start the next plague.
Spencer watches you go, shuffling backwards out of the office and turning towards the elevators. He’d elected not to add his own suggestions to the plethora of options supplied by the rest of the team. Unable to focus on much beyond just how tired you look. You’ve been fighting this thing all week, he’d passed over his own supply of hand sanitiser only that morning when you ran out. Ultimately, you put up a good fight, but there’s no cure for a virus. It just has to run its course. Just like his own feelings.
Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be comparing a virus to whatever it is he feels for you. Has felt, will feel - if there’s an end to this tunnel, he can’t see it yet.
“What about you, Spence?”
JJ’s voice pulls him from his thoughts before he can start spiralling down that particular hole. It takes him a moment to recall what they’d been chattering about before your long overdue exit - drinks, right. Yeah, that’s not happening.
“I’m busy, actually.” He shrugs, content to miss out on one night in favour of the plan currently coming to fruition in his mind. They won’t miss him too much.
“Busy? You weren’t busy when we talked about it last week.” Emily makes no effort to conceal her surprise. To be fair to them, it’s not like him to blow them off. There’s just something that’s come up, something decidedly you shaped, that’s far more important.
“Yeah, I forgot. Sorry.”
Spencer doesn’t miss the look that JJ and Emily share, he doesn’t miss the eyebrow that Derek raises in his direction. He simply chooses to ignore them.
At least the walk to your apartment is short, there’s still heat leeching from the plastic bag around Spencer’s wrist as he fumbles with his keys. You’d given him a bright pink key cap, so he’d know which one was yours, as if he wouldn’t know anyway. Eidetic or not, that’s one he would have committed to memory. The excuse had been because he was helping you out whilst you were down an arm, takedown gone wrong, you’d dislocated your shoulder. And then you’d insisted he keep it, because someone should have your spare key, and he’s the least likely of the lot of you to lose it.
He thinks you might be asleep at first, open plan living area lit only by a salt lamp and a set of fairy lights draped over your kitchen window, it’s cosy. And then you appear in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a jewel toned blanket. The low light is forgiving, but Spencer would be able to spot the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Without his glasses.
“I brought noodles.” He says as he turns back to set the steaming bag on your kitchen counter.
“I’m so gross right now.” As if to demonstrate your point, another cough racks your body. You just about manage to catch it under the swathes of blanket clutched in your fingers, but at least he can’t claim you’re not truly disgusting in this moment.
“I don’t mind.”
You’re so set on denying him entry that you don’t even really register what he said - Spencer Reid doesn’t mind that you’re ill. He doesn’t mind. A younger, healthier version of you would swoon. You might anyway, although that’s probably the vertigo talking.
“You’ll get sick.” Your rebuttal is weak, resolve crumbling. Warm noodles do sound pretty good right now.
“Will you let me help you, please?” It’s the firmest he’s ever been with you. No room for argument, doctor’s orders. So you have to relent. Not that you have much of a choice, he’s already pottering about in your kitchen in search of bowls. As if he doesn’t remember where they are.
“Did you get me a number three?” Your voice is brighter than he’s heard it all week.
“With extra toppings, of course.”
And those extra toppings go down a treat, of course they do.
Spencer watches you carefully as you eat - usually he’d be a little more subtle about it, but there’s not a lot that could pull your attention away from the bowl in your hands. You’re cross legged on the couch, blanket bunched around your middle, happy as a clam. Something his mother would say. He wonders what else she might say, what she might think about the abandonment of his germaphobia. Convenient, probably. Diana would say it with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile, the one that’s just for him. She has always liked you.
He promises he’ll be back tomorrow, once dishes are washed and leftovers are tucked neatly in your fridge, to make sure you get that hot shower Emily mentioned. The steam will definitely help, he’s read about it. Arguing with him would be pointless. You don’t have the energy, he’d only show up anyway, and it’s kind of nice to feel looked after. Spencer’s never failed to make you feel like that. You’re far too delirious to start thinking about that, not while he’s still standing in front of you at least. So you let him tuck you into bed, let him leave a glass of water on the table, let him dote. Pretending is a comfort when you feel as awful as you do. You’re already drifting off before he’s even ready to leave, content enough in your bed with the sound of him in the other room. Just, tinkering.
The sound of your front door opening rouses you the next morning, just about. Just enough to raise your head from your pillow and witness the sorry sight in your bedroom doorway.
Spencer’s trying - key word, trying - to suppress his sniffles, but the red rimmed eyes and tissue clutched in his fist give him away. It’s impossible to keep the sad little smile off of your face.
“Oh no.” You reach out a tired arm to pat the space beside you. There’s enough room for the two of you in amongst the blankets, and Spencer’s so far gone that he doesn’t even argue. His shoes and bag find a home at the foot of your bed as he lets himself collapse into the nest you’ve built. Tension leeches out of his body the moment he hits the mattress.
You have to lean across him to get your phone, right arm outstretched over his back - you can feel the heat rising off of him through his sweater and yours. Fever, that’s day two. Which means he spent yesterday evening taking care of you whilst he began to feel worse and worse. Softie.
“Egg or no egg?”
There’s an affirmative grunt from where his face is buried in your blankets. Egg it is, then. You dial the number mostly from memory, elbow still resting on his shoulder blade when you put the phone to your ear. You feel a little better than you did, but dragging yourself to the front door is still probably all you’ll be capable of today. At least you won’t be suffering alone. The line rings for a moment, then clicks, and a grainy hello sounds from the other side.
“Hi, can I place a breakfast order for delivery, please?”
i’m stuck on which chapter to work on next, do we want angst or yearning or fun flirty activities????🧡
#the canyouniverse#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#criminal minds#lou writes
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The Alternative | Warren Rojas x Reader
A/N: Again, this took over a week for me to write because I get distracted easily. It's a shorter one, more like a blurb, but it's cute and does the job 💕
Request: hiiii warren request🫣 can you write a one shot where warren and reader sneak off at camilla’s housewarming party in ep. 4 to get high and there is a lot of sexual tension and they end up hooking up. THANK YOU
Warnings: Getting high, mentions of the band fighting, reader and Warren sneaking off
Taglist: @celestialstar111 @stokzr
Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist
There were many things you could look past when it came to The Six's behavior. Their constant arguments were one of them.
Once the disagreements started, you knew better than to stick around and watch it play out. So you just took your things and sat on the back porch, waiting for the yelling to die down.
On most days, it was Billy telling everybody to fuck off. Other days, it was Eddie telling Billy to fuck off. And some days, it was Karen telling them both to fuck off.
Being their neighbor, you heard most of their arguments. I mean, there wasn't much space between your houses and they weren't exactly quiet people.
Regardless, you had grown to love them. You, Karen, and Camila hung out every Thursday night at your place so they could get a break from whatever shit the boys were getting into.
Other days, Warren came over with his drumsticks to test how they sounded on your pots and pans—which he claimed "sounded different" than the ones they used at their house.
He'd spend hours just banging on different pieces of metal until he found a beat he liked. Then, he'd take your face in his hands, loudly say, "I'm a genius", and run back to show Billy what he's figured out.
Of course, Billy told him to talk to him when he wasn't high on marijuana—which wasn't often.
Those were the moments you enjoyed. Not wanting to ruin your friendships with the band, you stayed out of any drama that ensued between them for your own sanity. Sure, you had plenty of things you could say, but you'd never be able to finish a sentence without being spoken over.
So you kept your mouth shut, grabbed a bottle of wine, and sat in what had become "your chair."
Tonight was like most nights, the band was having a small spat. Billy was irritated that Daisy was there, Graham and Karen were God knows where, Eddie was sulking, and Camila was trying to fix everything.
You were in the same spot as always, rocking back and forth with a bottle in your hand, looking up at the endless array of stars.
It was peaceful and oddly humbling—knowing you were just a tiny fragment in the world. God, you were drunk off your ass.
Light footsteps behind you broke your train of thought and you watched as Warren came into view.
"Hey, neighbor," He said with a smile, nursing a bottle of beer, "Mind if I join you?"
"They're still fighting?"
He shrugged, sitting beside you in the other rocking chair, taking a swig of his drink, "Billy's not happy."
"When is he?" You scoffed, throwing back your wine, finishing the bottle, "He's always in a fucking mood."
"That's Billy for you. Always grumpy."
You dipped your head back with a groan, "I don't know who's worse—him or Eddie."
"Oh, Billy. It's definitely Billy."
Unable to stop yourself, you burst out laughing. The alcohol was starting to take a toll on your physical state, "So, what brings you out here? You stargaze often?
He grinned at your teasing tone, breaking eye contact and looking down at his feet, shaking his head, "No, no, just wanted to keep you company. And see if you'd do weed with me."
"Better than the alternative."
"What's the alternative?"
You gave him a knowing look, "Not doing weed with you."
- - -
You and Warren were laying on the floor of the back porch, laughing hysterically at something he said—but you couldn't exactly remember what he said—and neither did he. That itself added to the humor of it all. At least, it did for you.
Nothing could disturb the two of you, not the lights going out, Julia's crying, or the loud sound of the swarm of people inside of the house.
"So she walked in to see Eddie in a dress and Graham in nothing but his—his—" You couldn't even get the words out without laughing.
Warren slapped the wooden boards beside him, laughing so hard he was practically snorting, "I wasn't any better, I was a pirate."
You kicked your legs, holding your stomach, "I can't—I can't breathe—"
Warren sat up, leaning over you, "I can give you CPR."
You were pretty out of it, but you understood what he was saying. The thing is—you didn't want him to give you CPR.
"We could just go to my place instead."
Warren raised his brows, "You think we can make it that far?"
"I think we can at least make it to my front lawn."
He got on his knees, grabbing the rocking chair to pull himself up. The chair swung back, causing him to fall back down to the ground.
You looked over at him—and as soon as his eyes met yours, the two of you burst out laughing.
Pushing yourself up off the ground, you reached your hand out, "Come on, let's get you out of those clothes."
You've never seen him run faster in your life.
#fanfiction#daisy jones and the six#daisy jones & the six#daisy jones and the six fanfic#daisy jones fanfic#djats#daisy jones#dj&ts#warrenrojas#warren rhodes x reader#warren rojas x reader#warren rojas#warren rojas x y/n#warren#warren rojas x you#warren rhodes#taylor jenkins reid#the six#taylor reid
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for the oc thing
i know its a lot i liked all the questions
AAAAHHH you wanted all of them here you go!!!
30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing?
Y'all know Wu is getting Mako some pricey luxurious suit. Custom tailored. The works. Idk anything about fashion so I have no clue what it would actually look like but just. Super nice ya know. I think Mako would like Wu in something more casual and comfortable. I go back and forth on Mako's fashion sense, he's definitely got the cool guy casual look down in books 1 and 3 but that fucking crop top coat in season 2 lmao. I think he'd pick something straightforward and simple and functional for Wu and maybe it will have something fashionably questionable about it lol
34. Who's more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?
Wu. I know I hc Mako as being chill with his sexuality but Wu would just say something SO outlandish, I feel like, it might get Mako flustered, choke on a drink, etc
60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?
Oh Mako definitely. He grew up sleeping on the streets with his brother he is attuned sleeping with another body, it's definitely an unconscious thing to make sure Wu is still there and safe.
56. What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?
I love my hc that Wu massages Mako's arm and I think it Does Things to Mako because he's not used to being doted on. And this might seem silly but I think Mako is showoff-y with his muscles for Wu. a little flexing and a wink is probably all it takes to get Wu going.
38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla?
This based COMPLETELY on the backstories I've crafted for them in Secret. so take it with a grain of salt. Mako is up for anything. Wu is more hesitant. I have reasons for this but the tldr is Mako grew up without shame regarding sex and Wu grew up with A LOT of shame. So it's not that he's vanilla exactly it's just hesitancy.
25. Do they have any hobbies they share?
Sure, they both like to read! They don't like to read the same things, but they'll be that old married couple sitting up with their reading glasses reading silently in bed before they go to sleep.
21. Who would get into a fight to defend the other's honor? Who tends to the other's wounds?
OK I know we're thinking 'Mako's the fighter here, he's the one who would get in a fight, right?' WRONG Mako will fight to defend Wu from physical danger but if we are talking defending the other's honor it's Wu. If someone insults Mako, Wu is ready to throw smoothies hands. And Wu doesn't know anything about first aid. He'd fuss over Mako if he's injured but he couldn't actually tend to his wounds. Mako knows all that first aid stuff he would take care of any injury Wu sustained.
Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?
I think it's Wu that's basically canon anyway 'mako you know I love you' was right before a disagreement. I'm sure he'd end with an I love you if it was relevant too
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CHAPTER 7 - MY HAND WAS THE ONE YOU REACHED FOR
Synopsis: Thranduil and Anarríma fight. A lot. Lasgalen is slowly but surely turning into Mirkwood.
Word count: 2.5k
Pairings: Thranduil/OC
Warnings: Some mild smut, Spiders! Some Violence
Additional tags: Toxic Relationship, Physical Altercation
Link to the chapter overview
All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, the bombs were close and My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War - The Great War (Taylor Swift)
The peace of the early years of their reign was long gone. Their beloved Greenwood was not green anymore. The leaves were brown and black, falling to the ground, suffocating anything that might have grown there. The air was stuffy, and the entire forest was dark. It felt wrong. Sick. Evil. And the forest was not the only thing. As much as the king and queen tried, their relationship was not what it had once been. They fought often, over the smallest of things. What to eat for dinner, what dress she should wear, and who would read Legolas a bedtime story that day. Their conflicts were ever-changing, and yet their method for resolving them stayed the same.
Ambushing each other in empty corridors, dark corners, libraries, the throne room. No place was safe when they were arguing. They both followed the same strategy to get the other person to give them what they wanted. Driving each other crazy with desire until one of them was desperate enough to agree to anything just to stop this torturous game. For years, all their arguments were carried out that same way, and for years they ended the same way. One of them got what they wanted, the other person was too exhausted to care much about the result, and the bedsheets needed to be washed again.
One time, when they were arguing about matters of state, Queen Anarríma was so adamant about getting her point across that she dropped to her knees before the throne in broad daylight, making sure to show her husband exactly how devoted she was to this particular matter. A disagreement over the guest list of the Feast of Starlight caused Thranduil’s hands to wander during several council meetings, softly brushing against the Queen’s thigh. Sometimes he dropped his pen, bending to pick it up only to slip his fingers past the hem of Ana’s dress and up her bare legs, teasing her mercilessly until she had to call a recess and agree to Thranduil’s terms.
Sometimes their arguments were longer, more difficult. Or they were small and inconsequential, but neither wanted to yield, precisely for that reason. Thranduil insisted on both of them wearing silver for an event, Anarríma insisted on green. So, the night before, she wore her shortest nightgown, got out of bed as soon as Thranduil laid down and bent over to pick up her discarded robe from the floor, sneakily revealing to the king, who never missed an opportunity to stare at his wife’s ass, that she was not wearing any underwear. The Queen told him she had forgotten something and retired to her study to work on it. When Thranduil knocked at the door, he said only one word. “Green.”
The Queen spent that night bent over her desk, almost begging Thranduil for mercy at some point before realizing that he was trying to wear her down, trying to get her to agree to silver. “Thranduil,” she gasped breathlessly, “was that a false surrender?” He bent over, pressing her body firmly against the desk as he brushed his lips against her ear. “It was indeed, my Queen. But if you want to have it your way, we can compromise,” he said seductively, drawing himself up to his full height before stepping back, keeping the Queen on the desk with a hand on her back. Was he really reversing their game?
“Please,” she whimpered. “Please, what, my darling wife?” Thranduil was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Please keep going.” The King hummed contently. “What will you offer me?” he asked, his hand slowly stroking over her bare, shivering back. “Silver,” she relented. “We will wear silver tomorrow.” For a moment Anarríma thought he had not heard her say it. Then she felt him wrap her hair around his hand and pull her head back as he continued thrusting into her hard and fast. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, smirking devilishly when he felt her react to his words.
The first time their solution failed was when spiders started roaming the forest. Small ones at first, just slightly bigger than normal spiders, Thranduil blamed it on the weather, claiming it would be better the year after, but the spiders only started getting bigger and bolder. But then came the day on which the Queen found Prince Legolas in the gardens, happily chasing after a spider that was the size of a full-grown cat, not knowing how grave the danger was and Ana begged Thranduil to do something. The spiders needed to be dealt with, and swiftly. It would be no problem for the host of Lasgalen to go out into their forest and kill those spiders, their forces were large and the spiders could still be kept at bay.
But Thranduil refused her plea. Their forest was changing, in his opinion, it was only natural. They simply needed to learn how to share their forest with other beings. After that incident, the Queen had her son sleep in their bed. The little Prince was content, sleeping soundly, sprawled out on Thranduil’s chest, or curled up at her side, a strand of her hair clutched tightly in his fist. Anarríma didn’t sleep. She lay there, restlessly staring at the ceiling, jumping at the slightest sound, always ready to reach for the knife she kept under her pillow.
That temporary ceasefire ended the day she walked into the King’s council chamber, ignoring the stares from his advisors as she rammed her knife into the table, a hairsbreadth from where Thranduil’s hand was resting. The spider she had stabbed with it was not remarkably large, but it had found its way into her vanity, weaving a web around her crown. “This ends now, Thranduil,” she commanded calmly. The King kept his composure. “My Lords, my Ladies, we reconvene in an hour, I need to speak with my Queen.” “Stay.” The advisors were torn. Whose command should they follow? Much to Thranduil’s chagrin, they decided to remain seated and listen to what their Queen had to say. She positioned herself at the head of the table, uncomfortably close to Thranduil, and straightened her back before addressing the most influential elves in their kingdom.
“Far too long, these creatures have invaded our forest. Now they invade our homes? We already know their bite is venomous and paralyses within seconds, so why do we still pretend they are not a problem? Did we fight the Dagor Dagorlad, risking our lives to defeat thousands of orcs only to be murdered in our sleep by the spawn of Ungoliant? I say we go out there, find their nests, and destroy them. Tomorrow, at first light, I will go into the forest and retake it, once and for all and if I must do it alone, then I will, but I refuse to let this darkness endure. My son will not grow up in a forest that wants him dead.”
Thranduil’s general rose from his seat, despite the warning look the King gave him. ‘Do not defy me. Not you too,’ he seemed to say. “I will ready the troops, my Queen. The forces of Lasgalen will stand with you.” The general bowed and left and the others took it as a sign to take their leave as well. Thranduil kept his composure until the last of them had disappeared down the corridor. Ana decided to leave and find Legolas, whom she had promised to spend the rest of the day with, but as she turned around, she found herself at eye-level with Thranduil’s chest. When had he gotten up from his chair?
She cleared her throat. “If you will please excuse me, I have things to do.” “No, I don’t think I will.” The king grabbed her jaw forcefully, using the other hand to grab both of her wrists and fully restrain his wife when she tried to push him away. The Queen stumbled backwards into the table, making glasses tumble and inkpots spill over. It had been easy to forget how big Thranduil was, that he could easily overpower her if he desired to. Ana wanted to scream at him, tell him to let her go and run as far as her feet would carry her. What had he become? But she couldn’t. Her voice refused to come out, her feet were unable to move. Anarríma was scared.
“Now I will speak and you will listen to me,” Thranduil hissed, “you will never undermine me in front of others again, do you understand?” The queen was frozen. She was staring at him, trying to find something in his eyes that told her the man she loved was still in there, but his right eye was cold as ice. The enchantment he used to conceal his scars was gone, he had lost all control over it. When she looked up at him, he let his hand slide down from her jaw to her throat, squeezing it. Anarríma could not stop the tears that started welling up in her eyes and his gaze softened. As if in a trance, he let go of her wrists, and moved his hand up to her face, lovingly wiping the tears from her cheeks, but before he could even blink, he felt cold metal at his neck. Anarríma had pulled the knife out of the table.
“Nana! Nana!” a shrill voice called from the corridor. Ana slowly let the knife sink, still ready to strike. The shock had been enough to make Thranduil let go of her neck. “I’ll be there in a moment, little leaf!” she called back to Legolas. She slowly backed away from Thranduil, eyeing him warily and quickly wiping at her face with the back of her hand. When she was gone, Thranduil stumbled backwards into his seat. What had he done? The King did not see his wife for the rest of the day. She did not come to their bed at night and the next day, the host had departed before he had woken up. Thranduil could see pillars of smoke rise from the forest all day. They were burning the nests.
Anarríma slept in Legolas’ chambers for a long while, pretending Thranduil didn’t exist. When Legolas asked to see his Ada, she made up excuses. The King was busy. The public appearances she needed to make with him were not the problem. There were always guards close by. Thranduil tried not to seek his wife out in private. What he had done was unforgivable and he understood that she did not want to see him. But soon he could not bear it any longer. Summoning all his courage, he made his way to the library, where he assumed she spent the afternoons working ever since she had fled from their chambers.
The King spotted his Queen hidden away in a corner, sitting in front of a window, writing. The candlelight illuminated her golden hair and he found himself wanting to reach out and touch it. His presence had startled Anarríma and she was pressed up against the wall, her fingers slowly wrapping around an elegant letter opener. Thranduil sat down at some distance, not saying anything and not moving closer but simply observing. After a while, Anarríma continued writing, visibly straining to keep her hands from shaking. She finished the letter, blew on the ink to make it dry faster, folded it neatly and sealed it with dark green wax. He could barely make out the small elegant letters, signifying the recipient of the letter as Lord Celeborn. Without looking away from the letter, she finally addressed him.
“Have you come to threaten me again, Your Majesty?” “No.” Now that Thranduil was here and she was talking to him, everything he had wanted to say to her, every carefully crafted apology, was gone from his mind, only one thought remained. ‘Please don’t hate me forever.’ “And if I speak against you again, will you hurt me then?” she asked. “No.” Thranduil shook his head. “Anarríma, I promise you that I will-” “Your promises mean nothing. Your words mean nothing. I, Thranduil, King of Lasgalen,” she recited his oath, “hereby vow that I will cherish and love and protect you until the end of time.” They sat in silence for a moment before Anarríma made her final remark. “How can you protect me from yourself?”
“I never meant for this to happen,” the King confessed quietly, “I don’t know what has gotten into me that day. I am sorry.” “It’s the forest.” Ana turned to face him at last. Thranduil tilted his head in confusion. “There is a darkness out there. An unnatural darkness. It is using the connection you have with your realm to get to you.” “You mean the spiders? Is that why you wanted them gone?” “Not only that,” the Queen confessed. She held out her hand for Thranduil, inviting him to join her. She was still wary of him, he could sense it. His movements were slow and controlled when he took her hand and moved closer. Anarríma pointed at what she had been studying earlier. Dark, rotting leaves, emitting wisps of black vapour.
“What is that?” The King reached out to touch it, but Anarríma slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch that.” “Sorry.” They continued staring at the leaves. Anarríma let her head fall against his shoulder tentatively. Thranduil slowly wrapped his arm around her waist, startled by how tense she was. They sat in silence for hours, until the sun was gone and the flickering flames of the candles were the only thing illuminating the library. Anarríma was comfortably resting against Thranduil’s chest, the King’s fingers playing with her hair, his hands trailing up and down her arms, his breath against the top of her head. She already found it hard to believe that he had attempted to hurt her.
“I will not just be the pretty face by your side, Thranduil. You told me you wanted me to rule beside you and I will.” Anarríma sighed deeply. Everything was out in the open now. Well, almost. Thranduil kissed the top of her head. “I know.” He motioned towards the letter she had written. “What did you write about?” Ana hesitated for a moment, weighing what her answer might mean. “Everything,” she admitted quietly. She felt Thranduil nod. “And are you going to send it to your father? In that case, I would like a warning, so I can try to put as much distance between me and him.” Ana sighed deeply. “I won’t.”
That night, Thranduil’s hands were everywhere on her body, squeezing, caressing, feeling, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was still here, that she was real. The Queen was still restless. Her thoughts had been racing for days. ‘You will die at his hands.’ She had always wondered what the words meant, had convinced herself she might die in an accident, but now? She knew that Thranduil was capable of killing her. She knew that he would, one day. Only one question remained now. Why?
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Humanized Toa Metru x Reader stuff because I'm bored and I saw a really good piece of art work
These are collective ones. I'll make "solo" posts or something for each team member later
Is it a polyamorous thing? It could be. You're not exactly a member of the team, but you're not unwelcome in the group. You're an honorary member, as it were. You fill them in with anything they need to know, like what threat is where, what they should expect, et cetera. As an honorary member, you're not allowed on missions. At all. Too risky. You also suspect that a few of the Toa just want you around because they want to keep an eye on you, so you don't snitch to anyone else
You know them because they're around you, you're all loosely aware of each other, being on, "Oh, that's (name)," basis
For the longest time, you thought Nokama was the leader, but were surprised to see Vakama was instead. Knowing them, loosely, you always thought Nokama would lead the charge because of her being a student-teacher/studying to be a teacher. Nope. Vakama has admitted he didn't ask to be a leader, but now that the role's been put on him, he's in it. You did suggest using a lottery system where names were picked out of a hat and whoever’s name was picked was the one to lead, but you got laughed at by Onewa and Matau
Before finding out, you would see each of them with battle damage, like scratches and bruises that weren't there the day before. When asked, the responses varied from, "I fell down" to "I ran into the door" to "I got in a fight" even to "What bruises?" and "It's none of your business." You thought they were all in a fight club before learning they were Toa
You asked Vakama how he lights candles, being able to use and control fire, and he lit one using a lighter he keeps on him for incognito. When you asked to see his elemental powers, he lit another candle with his index finger, though he really uses whichever finger he wants, even the ring finger
You are medically inclined, so you've had to patch up the Toa a fair number of times. That includes having to emergency stitch Whenua, splint Nuju's arm, help Vakama cauterize his own leg, tourniquet Nokama's hand, clean and change bandages Matau got, all sorts of things
Turns you their luck spread to you because you've had to have your leg stitched and some serious injuries fixed by the Toa
Most nights consist of waiting for your partner or partners to come home or, worse case scenario, wait for a few to come back with bad news
They talk to each other, but they open up with you
You've lost more bets than you care to admit because Matau and Onewa talked you into eating chili peppers with them and Vakama. You three were no match and you thought Vakama was just using his heat resistance to his advantage. He proved he wasn't by eating a small bit of chocolate with capsaicin extra in it and it was the first time anyone of you saw him need to get milk to drink after eating something spicy. He did pour himself a cup, though, because having a strong reaction to spice and drinkimg out of the carton is a no-no
You and Matau were once the only ones up first, and you woke up everyone by banging pots and pans together
You used to doubt Vakama had visions. You weren't a prick about it, but you had your doubts. That is until one day, while out with Matau and Nokama for some chill time, Vakama raced towards you three, shouting at you to turn away from where you were going. You realized why when you got attacked by Nidhiki. Later, when the battle was over, you asked how Vakama knew where you three were as phones don't exist and you didn't tell him where you were exactly. He didn't know. His visions did
Whenua and Nuju still have some disagreements about studying the past or future. You have ensudred those arguments don't get physical
You've lost race after race against Nokama when you two were swimming, but you did come close
A nothing activity you and the team have done: A try not to laugh game. No toiching, no props, no prep time, just you and your imagination. You found out that you get a lot of pity/"Oh, come on," laughs from Nokama, Vakama, and Nuju when you use wordplay and puns, but you also learned that Whenua isn't a fan and teamed up with Matau and Onewa to make you laugh specifically as revenge
Cuddle puddles. That is all
#bionicle#ramblings#toa metru#humanized bionicle#vakama#matau#nokama#onewa#whenua#nuju#long post under cut#x reader
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Corrupted, chapter sixteen - a TMA x Malevolent crossover
A power outage.
An enemy invasion.
An unexpected outcome to a violent evening.
Chapter sixteen of Corrupted, a TMA x Malevolent crossover.
AO3
-------
The wind is absolutely wild out there. Even in the Archives, Tim can hear it: howling. Creaking. Ridiculous and impossible in a city built the way this one is, but all that unseasonable cold had to go somewhere, and physics are what they are.
The power lines keep going down. That means the power is out, and Tim lies in the dark on his squeaky cot.
Quietly, he has to wonder if this is going to be his fate—both eyes dark someday, as he loses more body parts.
So much has happened. “You know,” he says. “I think I’ve adjusted pretty well, given all that’s gone down.”
You have, Tim, says Hastur.
“Not sure I’m taking your word on that one,” says Tim. “Given you’ve never been in this situation.”
I have someone to directly compare you to.
“That Arthur guy.”
Yes.
“So what’d he do?”
Lose his shit, fight, tantrum, fuss, run, and cause innumerable problems for everyone he met.
“Aww, tell me how you really feel,” Tim mutters.
The lights flicker on, making Tim’s eyes water, then flicker off again. He sighs.
I’m serious.
“Well, from what Jon said, this was back in the thirties, right? So he didn’t have therapy and a copious amount of fantasy novels and films to prepare him for it.”
Hastur’s hesitation is an odd one this time. It feels weighted; not guilty, exactly, but reluctant.
Tim frowns. “Out with it.”
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
“Right. There’s something you’re not telling me.” And he guesses: “Something you think I’m not going to like very much.”
Instead of answering, Hastur changes subjects. You know, I can see, Tim, he says out of nowhere. We don’t have to stay down here, if you don’t want.
“That doesn’t make a lot of—ow.” Lights on; lights off. “How can you? You’re using my rods and cones and whatever.”
I don’t know. It’s curious, isn’t it? I suspect, should you wish to see, you could—but with your track record, you’d make your eyes unable to process light at all, or something, so I’d suggest you just let me navigate.
Tim sighs. “Yeah, that tracks. I feel positively betrayed, you know?”
Betrayed?
“I have magic powers, and I can’t use them, because I keep fucking up,” he says.
Hastur starts to speak.
Tim interrupts. “No, I’m not going to your cultists.”
There’s a pause. Fine.
That’s an awkward disagreement which isn’t getting solved today. “Yeah, let’s go upstairs,” he says. “It’s boring down here.”
You aren’t a man who likes to be idle.
“Called me a shark for it before,” Tim reminds him brightly, and rises.
The cot squeaks.
I find you less a shark these days, says Hastur, as though there are numerous days to consider. I like you more than I like sharks.
“Sharks are cool!” says Tim, inching toward the door, arms out. “All sleek and deadly and ancient.”
Sleek, certainly. Deadly? Somewhat. But you’re not ancient, no matter how old you think thirty is.
“I am well into old wise man of the village, I’ll have you know,” Tim says, finding the doorframe. “Okay. Direct me.”
The Archives are black as pitch, but it seems Hastur is not lying about being able to see. That woman’s idea of organization is madness. Directly ahead of you are two stacks of boxes, three deep, acting like a corridor. Once you’re at the end, two boxes sit directly in the center of the opening.
“I remember that. Have to skinch around that guy,” says Tim and goe to do so. “Hey. Maybe we should make this a game.”
A game?
“Sure. A trust fall, like.”
And what would the stakes be? Hastur rumbles.
Tim reaches the box pile blocking his way and inches right. “I dunno. Sure seems like we’re competing over body parts now, doesn’t it?”
Hastur is silent for a long moment.
Tim kicks the box again. “Oi. Where?”
Once you navigate around this box, take two steps left. Directly ahead of you and six inches to the right will be a stack of paper as tall as your waist, for some reason.
Tim is dearly tempted to hip-check it. “She’s got to be doing this on purpose.”
I’d say so. It’s narrow, so go slowly. You’re free to move forward if you stay straight.
“My friend,” says Tim. “I have never stayed straight in my entire life, and don’t intend to start now.”
Hastur’s laugh is low and dark. Ah, I do like you.
There is less regret in it now. Tim’s not sure what that means. “What’s that mean for me practically?”
I no longer wish to possess your body. I want my own.
Huh. “The one Bouchard’s offering?” says Tim. “The completely theoretical body that requires the help of the guys who want to eat you?”
Yes.
“The fuck why? Not that I want you to want my body, just… you know, I’d like this to make a little sense?”
I never said I didn’t want your body, Tim.
Well, that was a thing to say. Especially the way he said it; low, resonant, taking his time with every syllable, as though imagining his incorporeal mouth doing something else.
Tim stops walking for a moment, then resumes. “Can’t shake me by being sexy. Answer the question.”
Hastur sighs. I’m on a time limit now. I understand this; I’ve come to terms with it.
And just like that, they are on serious topics. “Devil Pants,” says Tim, moving on.
Yes. I can’t stop him. There’s no one left in this universe who could even be a balancing factor. I’m going to die.
That doesn’t feel good to hear. His heart aches, a little. “Hastur…”
And if I’m going to die, I want to feel fully myself first, Hastur says. I want my godhood back. It’s been fun, playing human; fun, wearing costumes, exploring your amazing world, experiencing all the things you mortal people do. But now that it’s going to be over… I want to die as myself.
Fun. Driving monks mad and who knew what else. What a mess. “All right,” says Tim, logging it away and picking his battles. “So the god-body, then. I get it. I just wish you weren’t giving up so quickly.” His foot hit a box.
Left, then correct right again and continue. There’s no one who can help me, Tim. Hastur’s voice is low.
“Maybe we could pull a bait-and-switch?” says Tim.
Boxes. Left two steps, then forward again. A bait-and-switch?
Tim complies. “You know. Get those fear-thingummies to go after him instead of you.”
It wouldn’t work. Deities my level and lower are fair game to the Fears, but him? Not him.
“Whoa. Really? Devil Pants is that big a deal?”
I am a Great Old One, far from minor. I can—could—create and destroy worlds at whim. But he is an Outer God. His power, compared to mine, is greater than even mine would be compared to an average human’s. He could end your universe, Tim.
“Shit.” Tim shuffles forward. “I’m having trouble picturing this.”
Of course you are. It’s like trying to actually imagine a billion of something. Human minds can’t really do it.
Tim chooses not to be insulted. “Well… is there an an Outer God we can go to for help, then?”
None of them are here now. They left when all the other gods did. Besides, it would do no good even if there were.
“Why?”
Would you care if a single-celled organism called for your aid? Or even hear it?
“If it got my attention, sure,” says Tim. “Seeing as they aren’t sapient, far as I know. Besides, Devil Pants sure seems invested.”
He likes chaos. He likes pain. He’s a sadist. Humans die very prettily.
“Fuck that guy,” says Tim.
Tim. Please show some wisdom.
“He’s already going to hit me with a truck or set me on fire and drop me in an orphanage.”
I promise you, he could do worse.
Tim sighs. “Fair. But why did the Outer Gods leave if they weren’t in danger? Oh, oops.” A stack of paper goes down, sliding all over the floor, judging by the sound. “Sorry, Lara,” Tim stage-whispers.
Lara?
“Elderly Lara Croft.”
Hastur laughs.
Tim finds the stairs. It’s a relief; there’s a weird claustrophobia that comes with this darkness. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a genius. So why no Outer Gods left?”
They left when the rest did. They had various reasons.
“You’re really sure there’s no one here but you.”
If anyone else is, they’ve hidden so well that I haven’t seen them in thousands of years.
“You mean like how you hid?”
Hastur hesitates. And if they were here, they’d have no reason to help me. I have nothing to offer them.
“Maybe I do. Baby Merlin, remember?” He starts on the stairs.
Tim… why would you leverage that? Why would you leverage yourself?
Tim sighs. “You’re an asshole, but you don’t deserve to be eaten, all right?”
Many would argue that I do, says Hastur, low and warm.
“Well, maybe I think nobody does. Anyway, done with basement time! I’m ready to trade in the mole-man existence.”
Hastur chuckles. Tim. We’ve only been down here for two whole hours.
“Unacceptable,” says Tim. “I’m not made of money, you know, and time is money, so. Transitive properties, or whatever.”
Hastur chuckles again as Tim makes it to the ground floor.
#
It is creepy in the library.
Ambient light through the opaque Victorian windows casts it all in gray and black shadow, and Tim tells himself to stop being spooked. It’s just shadows. It’s nothing. It is not moving the way he thinks it is.
Regardless, staying still feels unsafe, so he carefully paces. “Do you see anyone?” he says, sotto voce.
No, though Bouchard’s door is open. I feel him in there.
“What, sitting in the dark?”
Probably seeing through the eyes of the whole city, taking in their consternation for his god.
Tim pauses. “You know, my life has gotten really weird?”
We could go talk to him.
Tim snorts. “I’m bored, but I don’t know if I’m that bored.”
I could tell you a story.
That sounds interesting. “A story from the ancient Great Old Whatever! I’m honored. Sure.” His steps seem loud, and Tim tries to quiet them.
Many, many years ago, I saw a portal created by cultists.
“Your cultists?” Tim finds a bookshelf with his hands and slides along it.
Oh, no. Not mine at all. These served one so far above that I don’t think she even knew what they were doing: Shub-Niggurath, Mother Goddess, Lord of the Woods.
“Mother, huh?” asks Tim softly. “Don’t suppose she’s here.”
No, as I said. She was too great to eat, but her children… her uncountable children were in danger. She left and took them so they wouldn’t be eaten.
“Huh. That sounds… responsible?”
Her children are regularly at fault for the destruction of entire worlds and the madness of all who survive.
“Oh. So kinda gray area, then, I get it,” says Tim. “Good mom. Bad citizen.”
Hastur chortles. I really do like you, Tim.
That feels so weird, the way he says that. “Okay. Um. Meaning?”
Meaning, says Hastur, I will try to preserve you.
That feels like the most honest thing he’s said. Tim swallows. “Glad for that. I guess.”
You should be, purrs Hastur, as though conferring a great honor, and continues.
Back to safer topics. “So you saw a door meant for someone else and decided to just slip through. Is it all right if I say I have a bad feeling about this?” says Tim.
Yes, says Hastur. Perhaps if I’d had you, I wouldn’t have made the mistake I did.
Tim had been joking. “Oh, no.”
Oh, yes. I tried to take the portal.
“And?” says Tim, feeling along the bookshelf, stopping beneath a window.
And the humans who’d opened it were in the middle of a fight with other humans, trying to close it. The latter succeeded… and I, the Great Old One was cut in half.
Tim whistles, low. “Where was the portal going?”
To Earth. My Earth, in my universe.
That sounds… bad. “Why would… okay, let’s come back to that. What happened when you were chopped?”
My other half was still sentient, of course.
Oh. “Is that where John came from?”
That’s where John came from.
“Literally part of you? Fuck!” Tim says. “So the Arthur situation. How did—” The front door creaks open, a flashlight shines through, and he stops talking.
A man enters, muttering. It’s Jon and someone else.
Tim frowns. “The hell is he doing out of hos—”
Hastur’s hand reaches, fast, across his waist as if to stop him.
Tim goes still.
“I really don’t think we can do anything for you until the power comes back on, though you’re welcome to sit in our reception area until things calm down out there,” says Jon.
“Thank you, young man,” says an older voice—a strong voice, but strange. It resonates, Tim thinks, like a voice in a steel drum, unnatural, hollow, somehow metallic. “I can normally navigate just fine in this city, but without things like crosswalk alarms, it becomes truly hazardous.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”
“Kindnesses like yours make all the difference, Mister Sims,” says the old man.
Hastur’s silence says much. Tim’s instinct says more: something is very wrong with whoever this is.
The shadows are moving now, for certain; Tim isn’t nuts. They’ve begun to shift, to undulate, seemingly too thick in the limited light from the windows and Jon’s torch.
Hastur is still silent.
You think this guy can hear you? Tim thinks at him.
Hastur squeezes.
Tim steps back between shelves, out of the way of Jon’s questing beam.
Jon passes them without a glance. “I’m afraid I can only offer you water to drink at the moment.”
“Anything is appreciated, Mister Sims,” says the old man, and he turns to look directly at Tim.
The old man is tall, thin, with sparse white hair and a scraggly beard. The thing that matters, though, is his eyes. They are solid white. Absolutely solid, without pupil or iris.
The old man smiles at them, full teeth bared.
Tim stares. That’s not normal, he thinks inanely, and takes another step back.
The shadows actively avoid Jon’s beam, and Jon clearly can’t see them; they curl around his feet, playful and predatory, as though ready to take him down on command. “Here we go. This lobby furniture is at least comfortable.”
The old man carries a cane—white-tipped, the kind a blind man would carry. He’s not holding it that way, though. He’s got one hand on the tip, and one around its shaft, a strangely ready pose. “Many thanks. I don’t suppose we’re near your boss’s office.”
Jon stops walking. The billowing darkness at his feet is hungry, edges licking his clothes. “My boss?” he says.
“Elias Bouchard,” says the old man, and chuckles. “At the moment, anyway.”
Jon has gone as still as a deer in the eyes of a hunter. “You… know him?”
“Indeed, I do,” says the old man, low, as Elias materializes out of nowhere to stand behind Jon.
Though it makes no sense, Tim can clearly see Elias’s eyes, though the rest of him is hidden in silhouetted gloom. “It’s all right, Jon. I’ll take it from here.”
“There you are,” says the old man, low.
“Maxwell,” says Elias Bouchard as if he tastes something bad. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“So you do know each other?” says Jon, his voice unsteady.
“We do,” says the old man. “I need to thank you properly for bringing me in. Couldn’t have gotten near him otherwise.” And then there is a sound.
Tim knows what it is from movies, from games; from countless hours watching television, and he is completely sure what just occurred: the old man’s cane was hiding a knife, and it’s been unsheathed.
The old man grabs too fast for Tim to see. The torch drops to the floor and rolls, splashing their struggling feet with alternating light and darkness.
Tim starts to move. Hastur grips him, tight and warning.
Jon makes a choked sound.
“Now, now,” says the old man, gripping Jon against him tightly. “Don’t struggle. I wouldn’t want my hand to slip.”
Tim clenches his jaw, bends down, and quietly removes his shoes.
No, whispers Hastur, but Tim ignores him.
Elias sighs. “Is this really necessary?”
“Well, you wouldn’t answer my letters,” says the old man.
“Naturally not,” says Elias. “You are going to fail.”
“We will not,” says the old man. “Everything is ready. Mister Pitch is coming. I’m here to give you one final chance. Join me. Leave this nonsense behind.”
Jon lets out a tiny cry, and Tim, creeping closer, has to focus not to breathe like an angry bull.
“Must you molest my librarian?” says Elias. “You’re not making a very good case for your promises of clemency.”
The old man laughs softly. “Librarian? As if that’s what he is. Did you forget I’ve listened to your theories for years? Maybe you think me truly blind?”
Tim won’t just lunge. The lunatic old man has that thin blade to Jon’s throat, and even in this bad light, Tim can see the front of Jon’s shirt is stained dark with his own blood.
What the fuck is wrong with everybody? Why do they keep hurting this guy? Jon didn’t do anything but show kindness to a blind old man!
It’s anger that moves, anger that surges, that translates Tim’s will, and he has no chance to overthink it, to plan, to try to avoid any damage.
Maybe that’s why it works.
The handle of the old man’s cane is suddenly red hot, instant, like a switch flipped on. The old man shouts and flings it, shocked.
Disturbingly fast, Elias grabs Jon and yanks him away.
The old man reaches for them, snarling, shadows moving with his hand as if on a leash.
Tim tackles the old man, counting on inertia and weight and youth—
And finds him solid, shockingly strong, with a grip like ice and an expert twist as though he’s been cage-fighting for years, and for a horrible moment, they grapple. Shadows snake around Tim’s legs with painful tightness, locking his feet in place.
Lights! Tim thinks, and as if he summoned them (which he swears he did not), they suddenly come back on.
The shadows vanish. The strength and solidity of this old man do, too, and abruptly, Tim is bearing a frail old man to the ground with a crunch so unpleasant that he thinks he might have broken all the psycho’s bones.
#
It somehow figures that Daisy Tonner is the cop who shows up.
The ambulance is already there. The old man, whose arm is broken, doesn’t seem upset by any of this. He keeps smiling, face turned unerringly toward Tim wherever he stands, because apparently, it’s What the Hell, Let’s Scare Tim Day.
Finally, they cart Maxwell Rayner off. Jon sits where they put him, looking dazed, the white bandage around his neck redder than Tim likes.
“Why are you here?” Tim asks him quietly.
“I didn’t want to miss anything,” Jon whispers back. “Also, some weird guy came around asking about you, and I didn’t want to risk being overheard if I just called to warn you.”
“What weird guy? And why didn’t you text?” says Tim.
Jon has visibly forgotten text was a thing. He goes red.
“And then Mister Stoker managed to tackle him,” Elias explains, the perfect witness to such random tragedy. “I wish I could tell you more; we simply don’t know what drove this elderly man to come in off the street and accost us.”
“Uh, huh,” says Tonner, not taking notes, watching Elias, unblinking, like a wolf watches a rabbit.
Elias smiles like no rabbit has ever smiled in the history of the world.
Tonner turns on Jon. “Mister Sims, I need more than what you’ve given me. We’re still missing things. Like how the hell his hand is burned in the pattern of that knife handle.”
Jon isn’t a good liar. Fortunately, this isn’t a lie. “I’m sorry,” says Jon. “I don’t know what to tell you. This man came up, and said he needed help, and then when I turned around, he… did this.”
“He’s blind,” Tonner says.
Jon just looks at her, and his tone goes sharp. “And that means he can’t hold a knife? Do your job, detective, and figure it out. I’ve told you the truth, and badgering me won’t produce a different answer.”
Tim flinches. That would go over great.
What a genius, Hastur drawls.
Tonner takes a step toward Jon.
Jon flinches back as if she’d bared her teeth.
Elias steps in, hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Jon. I know you’re stressed. Detective, we’ve all had a terrible day, and may I remind you that we are the victims here? Are we nearly finished?”
Jon looks down, hunched.
Tonner turns toward Tim.
Tim, who has some of Jon’s blood on his hands. Tim, who’s bruised from tackling that startlingly strong man. Tim, who really wanted to never see this woman again in his life.
Tim gives her a thousand-watt smile. “Hello again.”
“Funny, finding you in the middle of this,” says Tonner. “And I suppose you have a perfectly reasonable excuse for being here?”
“Sure do,” says Tim. “I work here.”
She looks deeply startled, and turns to Elias as if offended. “What?”
“He’s my newest employee, detective,” says Elias. “Why?”
“I suppose you’ve got paperwork to back that up?” Tonner challenges.
“Certainly, though I hardly see why it’s relevant to your investigation,” says Elias. “I have nothing to hide. If you want to see it now, I can show you.”
“Show me now,” says Tonner, as though she thinks he’s going to forge it the moment he’s out of sight.
“Well, I’m sure a little harassment is all in a day’s work for you,” Elis says mildly. “This way, please.” He heads for his office.
“Watch it, Bouchard,” Tonner says, on his heels.
Tonner’s partner sighs. She studies Tim, thoughtful, arms crossed. “Anything else you want to say on record?”
What was her name? Hussain? “No, officer. We just got really lucky tonight. No one’s hurt too badly, and I’ll take that as an outcome.”
“Mm,” says Hussain, noncommittal.
“How’s your night going?” says Tim, trying the charm.
“Weird,” says Hussain. “Seems when the lights go out, the crazy fills its place.”
“Right?” says Tim. “Can’t thank you enough for all you do, protecting us ordinary citizens.” He is deadpan.
She eyes him.
His serious expression does not crack.
Hussain gives up. “Mister Sims, we’ll be calling on you later as a witness.”
Jon is touching his white bandage so gingerly, almost as if to convince himself it’s really there. “Of course, officer. Whatever you need.”
Hussain nods and goes to talk to the EMTs.
Jon sighs. “I’m sorry about all this.”
“Not your fault,” Tim murmurs back. “Some lunatic on the street comes in and attacks everybody, it’s hardly your fault.”
“He didn’t attack everybody, though, did he? Just me.” Jon sounds bitter.
Tim’s not sure he can blame him. “Want to stay here tonight?”
“What? In the library?” Jon says as though scandalized.
“Down in the Archives. You’re shaken up, and I think it might do you good to have someone look after you.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need looking after,” Jon says loftily.
“If this were reversed, and you saw me shaky and bleeding from the godsdamned throat, would you say, ‘Hey, good luck!’ and just walk off?” Tim challenges, pushing, urging Jon to accept.
Jon looks uncomfortable. “If you’re sure I won’t be a bother.”
He will.
Tim ignores that. “You won’t.”
“Thank you.” Jon is sincere. His dark eyes are just a touch shiny.
Such an awkward little dude. Tim feels justified in his unspoken adoption.
Tonner suddenly storms past, then spins on her heel, and fixes Tim with a sharp glare. Were her eyes always fucking yellow? “We’re not done, Stoker.”
“Sure?” he says, resisting the urge to get sarcastic.
Tonner stomps off.
Hussain sighs and follows.
The EMTs, having finished, give Jon some final instructions and paperwork, and leave.
Jon stares at nothing, looking gray.
“So,” says Tim to Elias. “Don’t suppose you can explain what just happened?”
“I can,” says Elias. “But not right now. Instead, I’m going to invite you both to my house.”
What?
“Huh?” says Tim.
Jon just blinks owlishly.
“I have plenty of room,” says Elias. “You both require a safe space to unwind tonight, and some food you don’t have to cook. And my home, unlike both of your apartments, is protected.”
“What, like the Institute is protected?” Tim snaps.
“When someone touched by the Eye doesn’t hand-deliver enemies over the doorstep, yes,” says Elias.
Jon hunches again.
Tim’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you fucking dare make him feel bad for this.”
“I won’t,” says Elias with a straight face and wide eyes. “Anyone could have fallen for this.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking no,” says Tim, but Jon interrupts him.
“Will you give us answers if we come?” says Jon.
“Oh, come on, Jon,” Tim murmurs.
“Yes,” says Elias. “You have my word. I will answer questions and explain what just happened.”
Jon looks at Tim, pleading.
The downside of adoption: that look is hard to ignore. He sighs. “You know what? We might as well. This is already all weird and fucked up. Might as well throw an awkward family dinner into the mix.”
Hastur chuckles. Awkward family dinner. Very good.
“I’ll bring the car around. Let’s not linger,” says Elias, and heads for the door.
“You sure about this?” says Tim.
Jon’s look is now hungry, sharp. Unwavering. “Tim, I need to know what’s going on. I need to know if what I saw was real. I need to know what just happened, and who that was.”
“All right, all right, I already agreed,” says Tim.
Foolish, murmurs Hastur. But perhaps expected. He’s driven by his accidental god.
“What’s he saying?” says Jon.
“You really can tell when he’s talking to me, huh?” says Tim.
“Yes,” says Jon. “You change, somehow. It’s hard to explain.”
That is unnerving. Tim swallows.
A polite honk echoes through the front doors.
“Our ride is here,” says Tim dramatically, and helps Jon stand. “Come on. Let’s do this. You got keys?”
“It’s how I let the enemy in,” Jon mutters.
“Not your fault. I’d have helped him, too.”
No, you wouldn’t. You saw the shadows.
Then why didn’t he? Tim thinks at him.
I don’t think he could. This is something the Eye can’t handle well.
A ‘balancing influence,’ Elias had said before, as though some of these things counteracted one another. Why could I see it?
Because of what you are.
Baby Merlin, Tim thinks, keeping an eye out while Jon locks up.
Elias’ car is, of course, ridiculous. Some fancy Mercedes, fortunately a sedan. He smiles behind the wheel.
“Front or back?” says Tim.
“Back,” says Jon at once. “I don’t want to talk.”
“Fair enough.”
As they pull away, Tim pretends not to see the angry shadows lasing around the steps of the Institute, as though angry they can’t wreak vengeance inside.
#tma#malevolent#tma x malevolent#tma fic#malevolent fic#malevolent crossover#tma crossover#tim stoker#jonathan sims#elias bouchard#kiy malevolent#tim x hastur#corrupted fic
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And yes, I do need to ask about every Barbie ship :D
2, 12 and 51 for Barbie/Ava
22, 38 and 50 for Barbie/Mason
3, 17 and 28 for Barbie/Felix
14, 31 and 42 for Barbie/Nate
21, 26 and 44 for Barbie/Kira
Holy smokes anon. EXCITING.
Obligatory OTP Asks
Barbie/Ava
2.) What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?
Barbie suffers night terrors pretty often after the Murphy incident. She had them before as well, being prone to stress and anxiety as she is, but it's 10x worse once the events of Book 1 kick off.
All Barbie would want is for Ava to hold her close, stroke her hair, and promise she'll be okay. Eventually, once they sort their shit out, that's exactly what would happen. Before that, Barbie still seeks Ava out, but doesn't want to talk and doesn't want Ava to touch her. She just wants to be in Ava's presence. Ava allows this, and probably makes Barbie a warm drink if Barbie won't make one herself. This usually leads to Barbie falling back asleep in an armchair, or some other spot near wherever Ava's spending time.
When Ava has nightmares, Barbie's very unsure about what to do. She's way out of her depth when it comes to comforting other people, even as much as she wants to do it. She'd ask Ava what she wants, what would help. Ava's prone to denying she wants anything at all, but eventually I like the idea that Barbie reads to her. A silly book that Ava would never pick up on her own, but that Ava can't help getting absorbed into when it's Barbie reading it.
12.) Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?
Oh yeah, definitely. Barbie can be very set in her ways, as can Ava, so when they agree on something it's GREAT. If they disagree on something, it leads to arguments over things no one else would even think to argue about. It's really tough at first, but they also love each other, so they don't want these arguments to be fights.
Two rule-loving autistic queens sit down to decide what steps to take when an argument is going too far, agree on the steps, and put them into motion over every single disagreement they have.
(Smoothing things over usually includes make up sex for Barbie, it's hands down the easiest way she's found for letting dumb shit go.)
51.) What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?
I think they're both big on just doing things for one another to make their lives a little better.
Barbie has a stash of 20 shirts, the exact same brand and style that Ava likes, in a few varying colors. When one of Ava's shirts wears out, Barbie just puts a new one in her closet.
Ava stays on top of Barbie's physical needs. Food, drink, comfort. She keeps a bag of trail mix in one of her pockets at all times. She keeps an extra pair of gloves as well for when it's cold, which she pretends aren't there just for Barbie.
They're both big on physical touch with one another as well. Barbie likes to place a kiss to Ava's jaw and Ava will press a hand between Barbie's shoulder blades in small moments between moments.
Barbie/Mason
22.) What reminds each of their partner?
Barbie: [at the grocery store]
Barbie: Everything reminds me of him...
Mason: [walking into town]
Mason: ....I should call her
I'm throwing the rest of this under a cut because it's getting long y-y
38.) Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla?
Mason is definitely more experimental, but Barbie's not vanilla exactly. In fact, I've had a good time with the thought that their sex life is so good at it's most basic, they've pretty much only ever had missionary sex for the first few months of sleeping together. It's only when they realize Mason's never eaten Barbie out and Barbie's never jerked him off that they go "We need to broaden our horizons."
Beyond that, Barbie's a curious person, definitely willing to try most anything once. She's got a checklist of things she wants to try in her personal organizer, and a list of things Mason wants to try.
50.) Who's more likely to do something out of spite?
100000% Barbie. Spite takes too much effort for Mason. Barbie would, in fact, be hella tempted to sleep with someone else before she and Mason get together, particularly after the Haley's Bakery incident where he said they're just fuck buddies. The idea of her actually going through with it only to have major remorse when she sees how it truly hurts Mason's feelings....Delicious. I love mess. I love her panicking and trying to figure out how to fix it.
Barbie/Felix
3.) Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)
Barbie's taste leans more heavily toward classy, femme, and elegant. So she wouldn't be tempted by most of Felix's wardrobe. She would definitely pilfer a scarf on occasion though. What she would greatly prefer is him giving her something as a gift she could wear. A necklace, a bracelet, or even a pair of socks.
Felix cannot be kept out of Barbie's clothes though, I stand by this. She buys very nice, high quality stuff and sometimes a baby blue blazer is exactly what he needs to pull of his outfit! And he also likes all the headbands she uses to keep her hair back when she's doing her skin routine.
17.) Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?
They're pretty tied here I think! Felix is more spontaneous about it, while Barbie's a bit more purposeful.
28.) What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?
I think "my dove" is something Barbie would call Felix. Her soft hearted boy. My love, my darling, and sweetheart are others, but she tends to reserve the use of pet names for private moments.
Felix would spout off all kinds of saccharine and silly pet names, to make her blush, to make her laugh, and to make her roll her eyes. She says ABSOLUTELY no to 'doll' (it's OLD and it wasn't funny when it was new!!!).
Barbie/Nate
14.) How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?
Barbie and Nate are pretty well matched! They both value academics, research, having a plan before acting, and having a touch of luxury in their day to day lives. They're also both HORRIBLE HORNY BASTARDS.
The way they clash though is Nate keeps a lot to himself. He really values his privacy, and he has a tendency to think he knows what's best for Barbie, regardless of her own thoughts on the matter.
Barbie's nosy as hell and can't stand not knowing something, it eats at her and eats at her (she ALWAYS chooses to look up her LI in Book 3). She also prides herself on her intelligence and ability to make measured decisions, so she does not take being patronized very well.
31.) Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)
Absolutely not. They're always touching somehow, whether it be holding hands, crossing ankles under a table, or having a hand on one another's hip/lower back.
42.) What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)
There is an appeal to Barbie in particular to the weather being sooooo terrible that there's just no choice but for her and Nate to get snuggled up somewhere and wait it out u_u
I imagine Nate likes this just as much, but he also likes mild days where he can take her out for a nice walk around town.
Barbie/Kira
@crownleys and I are both very tickled someone wants to hear about our girls! We have, in fact, spent quite a lot of this morning and afternoon talking about them as ex-wives who get back together during the events of Book 1/Book 2
21.) Who would get into a fight to defend the other's honor? Who tends to the other's wounds?
The answer is Kira in both instances! Barbie would fight for Kira's honor, but she's far more likely to bitch someone out or bust someone's windshield versus get into a physical brawl. Kira's not quick to brawl, but when Bobby's involved...well, all bets are off.
As for tending wounds, Barbie's got a fear of blood bad enough that she'll pass out from enough of it. If Kira's got a paper cut or something small like that, Barbie's happy to clean it up and put a bandaid on it for her. Anything that's dripping blood though, she can't look.
26.) What are their vices?
Keep in mind, I'm not Kira's creator, so I am not the definitive authority on all of this, but this is what I take away from all of mine and Crownley's chatter.
Kira's a workaholic, always looking for a new way to prove herself worthy of notice, kindness, love, etc. She's also a sucker for expensive antiquities.
Barbie's an ex-smoker and she still struggles against the urge to smoke at times. She's been known to falter in times of great stress.
44.) Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?
Kira's more likely to dance, and Barbie is more likely to just watch, unless Kira coaxes her over. Whatever's on the stove would end up burning if they start to slow dance, because they'd be so involved in one another they completely forget about the rest of the world. And dinner.
#darling speaks#ask meme#this was really fun to fill out! I love getting to chew on these characters so much#Barbie's dynamic with all the LIs is very fun for me >>:3c#barbara 'barbie' robertson
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Would you possibly be willing to share more about your lightning powers au? It seems super cool!
Yeah of course! Thanks for asking :)
So this is the main post about it, but basically Marty unwittingly gets time travel powers from extended unsafe exposure to the DeLorean, and only realizes that when he accidentally goes back in time to 1931.
The impetus of this is a fight with the Tannens, and the powers become activated with Marty’s intense fight or flight response. Since Marty has zero control over any of this, he gets zapped back to a time where he know he would be safe (i.e. with Doc). Unfortunately this has the side effect of knocking Marty out cold, since the whole ordeal expends a significant amount of energy.
Emmett finds him passed out in the town square and lets Marty stay with him and his father while they figure out how exactly Marty got there and how to send him back (with Marty being very cagey and tight-lipped about the whole time travel thing). They eventually figure out that Marty’s powers are triggered by emotion, and can cause lightning-based damage to physical objects, after a major argument about how secretive and manipulative Marty has been throughout their entire friendship (which was a long time coming honestly). This ends up both being the breakthrough that they need to help Marty get back to his time period, as well as the tipping point for Marty emotionally, who is worried that all of this scientific experimentation is only hurting/going to hurt everyone around them.
During this same time Marty gets involved in record keeping and historical research at the courthouse for Judge Brown, Doc’s father, via accidentally demonstrating his breadth of historical knowledge. This drives a bit of a wedge between Emmett and his father, as although he is more accepting of his son’s scientific career than before, he is not 100% on board with the idea. Marty does not like this one bit and ends up mediating more than his fair share of their arguments and disagreements. This all comes to a head with Marty revealing he’s actually a musician, not a lawyer or historian, much to Emmett’s delight and Judge Brown’s (mild) chagrin and further acceptance of his son and his career path. This is more or less a B plot to the main story, and is functionally supplemental, but I still find it an interesting thought exercise.
Marty and Emmett continue to experiment with which emotions trigger which kind of reactions, using a jury-rigged version of the mental alignment meter. Emmett at this point has begun catching on to the fact that Marty is involved in time travel, although he doesn’t have all the details, and is mostly avoiding the topic due to Marty’s reactions. This culminates in Emmett essentially realizing “wait, you’re a time traveller!” in front of Marty and Marty imploding into a panic thought spiral of “oh god I doomed the entire timeline,” which has the unfortunate ramification of a massive power outburst that Emmett now has to contend with. Emmett basically shoves a guitar into Marty’s hands in a panic and hopes for the best based on what Marty had told him about his love of music and how it helps him relax (from the the B plot). Thankfully they find out that musical instruments can act as something of a power conduit and calming measure, and that Marty is able to control who and what the lightning harms just from Emmett being able to shove a guitar into his hands and come away unburned. They also begin having healthy discussions about the risks of scientific endeavors from here on out.
From that point onward Marty and Emmett have the fun task of figuring out how to control the lightning/time travel powers to send Marty back to his time period without accidentally stranding him in the Stone Age or the Twilight Zone. This ends up taking a lot of trial and error, but it eventually works and they are able to send Marty back home. I also like to think that although Emmett doesn’t have 100% of the details, his adventures with Marty do end up surfacing in his eventual plans for a time travel machine in a fun paradox moment of narrative looping.
And that’s pretty much the au, plus or minus a few run ins with the Tannens and at least one friendship hug. :)
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hi! could a get a mha matchup? i would prefer a UA student!! im 176cm, i have mid length wavy brown hair and eyes. i love piano, music, volleyball, and reading. my big three are leo Sun sag moon and cap rising, my mbti is infj, my hogwarts house is raven claw, and my enneagram is type 5. physical touch and quality time are my love languages , and very important to me!! im pretty shy and quiet, until im comfortable, and then i can get a bitttt more hyper. i am a smiley person, and i laugh pretty easily. i love learning about other people, how they work, what they like, things like that. im not great with making friends, becuase I have very low self esstem and immediately assume everyone i meet hates me for some reason, and does not want to be my friend. :/ i also cry very easily, and when i first realized i had made a couple of friends becuase they had directly called us friends, i cried for almost two hours. im also a sucker for sad books, and i cry loads over them too. My ideal partner would be someone who would love me unconditionally, and who i could have calm discussions with instead of fights. people yelling at me triggers my anxiety + anxiety attacks. my partner would also have to have more of a backbone then me, and be able to stand up for themselves. this sounds a little selfish, but i would want someone to love me enough to spoil me a bit too, with gifts and things! thanks for reading, don’t feel pressured at all to answer this!!! have an amazing day, and don’t forget to take care of yourself <3
Aww this ask was so sweet, I hope you enjoy your match-up! Yours was really easy for me to write, as soon as I read it I knew exactly which character to pair you up with so I hope you enjoy! :)
I’d Match You With:
Momo Yaoyorozu!
Reasoning:
To me, Momo seems to fit a lot of the things you say you’d want/need in a life partner, and I think the two of you would complement each other nicely. You’d be able to grow together, and it’s very easy for her to be the kind of partner you need and vice versa.
Headcanons About Your Relationship:
Momo is absolutely the perfect gf for you if you like to be spoiled, she has the money to spend on you and is more than happy to do so if it makes you happy. Sometimes that means joint shopping trips where you get to try on clothes together and help each other pick out outfits that she's more than happy to pay for, and sometimes that just means picking up small gifts for you while she’s out at the mall to give to you when she gets back to your dorm at the end of the day :>
Momo’s the one in your relationship who hardly ever cries, so she’s always there to pull you into her arms and comfort you whenever you find yourself getting especially emotional :’) And she never makes fun of you for how easy it is to make you cry, she understands that you’re just more sensitive and emotional and she just does everything she can to not make you sad, and to help comfort you when you do end up crying
Momo’s also really good about never really arguing with you as she doesn’t really see a point in “arguing”, even when you get frustrated with one another the discussion typically stays calm and she never raises her voice or does anything to make you anxious or uncomfortable. Of course, disagreements are going to happen, as she’s not the kind of person to hide how she’s feeling just to keep the peace or anything of that sort. But she expresses her thoughts to you clearly and diplomatically without getting mean or hurtful, and you two are almost always able to resolve your disagreements quickly and quite peacefully.
Momo can be quite timid in her daily life, but she’s gotten a lot better with her self-confidence and image since starting at UA, and she can easily stand up for herself or you if the time comes. She knows that’s something you struggle with, and she’s happy to be the brave one in your relationship as her confidence continues to grow if it helps you feel safe and comfortable with her.
Knowing that you enjoy reading makes Momo so so happy and it’s one of her faborite hobbies/ways to spend time with you. She’s happy to let you pick out a book and then she’ll read to you, the hand she's not using to hold the book running her fingers gently through your hair as her voice soothes you into a calm, relaxed state.
She also loves that you play the piano! Momo’s a big classical music lover, and she adores listening to you practice as she does her homework or even just watching you practice in general, amazed by your talent and the beautiful melodies you’re able to make. She’d love to learn to play herself some day, and if you’re willing to teach her then she’s more than happy to learn from you :>
Song For Your Relationship:
Momo’s honestly not the biggest fan of sports in general, but for you, she’s happy to get somewhat involved if it makes you happy. If you play on some kind of volleyball team then she totally goes to all of your games and cheers you on from the sidelines (and takes you out to dinner as her treat afterwards, whether your team wins or loses). Or if you only play casually or just need someone to practice with, then she’ll try her best to practice with you, even if she’s not the best and doesn’t totally understand how the game works lol
Heaven’s Cloud by Seventeen!
#{✏️} - bee's writing#{💭} - bee answers#{💬} - requests#{🌻} - eat-the-rich-today#mha matchup#mha matchups#bnha matchups#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha x you#bnha x you#mha x y/n#bnha x y/n
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How The Demon Brothers React After Fighting With Their SO
tw: some angst with resolution at the end, mentions of past arguments, insecurity.
Lucifer:
This man is petty as hell.
He doesn’t do the silent treatment, but he acts like you aren’t dating.
If you need to work on something together, you’re a co-worker.
At RAD you’re a classmate.
Around the house you’re just a housemate.
His poker face is immaculate and it will not crack when you’re around.
If someone didn’t know what was happening, they’d probably think you two barely knew each other.
However, you won’t notice, but as soon as you look the other way his eyes are on you.
He’s used to arguing with his brothers and is no stranger to explosive fights that end with he and the other person not being on speaking terms.
But you’re different.
He tries to go on with business as usual, but he can’t think about anything other than how much he misses you.
Yet, he lets it continue because he just can’t put his pride aside and apologize.
If you decide to sleep in your old room it’ll both hurt his feelings and royally piss him off.
He thinks you’re being childish and will be pretty rude about it, but that’s because internally his blood just ran cold.
It adds a degree of seriousness to the argument that he’s uncomfortable with.
Yes he’s mad, but he can’t lose you.
If you still sleep in his bed, he makes sure to scoot over to the very edge so he doesn’t cuddle you in his sleep.
In fact, the first night after the argument he’d probably put a pillow between you just to really punctuate the fact that he’s still upset.
I’d say it could go 4 days to a week tops without you making up.
After a point though, he just can’t function until the issue is resolved. He can’t sleep, he’s falling behind on his work, and he’s just generally not doing well.
You get called to his office one night and find him at his desk surrounded by piles of paper, disheveled and exhausted.
“MC, come sit down. I’d like to talk this through. Please.”
Mammon:
He’s so dramatic.
You dare defy him? The Great Mammon can’t believe this tiny fragile human would have the audacity.
The theatrics are just a front though.
His ‘The Great Mammon’ act is a mask for his insecurity, one he hasn’t had to use with you in awhile.
Even as the words leave his mouth he regrets them.
He’s going to be very uncomfortable with everything until the argument is resolved, but most of all himself.
He’s learned not to take his brothers too seriously when they toss insults his way, but words have a way of morphing to belief over time.
Internally he is going to be super hard on himself.
Regardless of if the fight was his fault or not, he’s going to kick himself constantly for making yet another mistake.
He’s over the argument pretty fast. The anger quickly melts into anxiety.
Are you going to leave him? Do you hate him? Did he hurt your feelings?
That being said, he doesn’t know if you’re still mad and he doesn’t know how to ask.
As a defense mechanism, he defaults to how he treated you when you first arrived in the devildom.
Calls you human, disregards you, stuff like that.
If you decide to sleep in another room, before midnight expect him to be knocking on the door.
“Oi, MC. You awake? I just - I can’t - *sigh* Can we talk about this?”
If you sleep in his bed, he makes a point of sleeping with his back to you.
Less because he’s actually mad and more because he doesn’t want his image of you as he drifts to sleep to be a look of anger.
Though as soon as he passes out he’ll roll over and tuck you into his arms on instinct.
I’d say any after effects of an argument with Mammon would be resolved in a day, maybe two tops.
Leviathan:
Arguing activates his trolling the forums mode.
Goes back to calling you a normie and contradicts everything you say.
He’s less mad about the argument and more using the bitterness to cope with how upset he is.
He feels like a break up is less of an if and more of a when.
Why would someone as amazing as you settle for weird otaku like him?
Honestly doesn’t understand why you’re with him in the first place, so when there’s a serious argument he assumes its over.
Tbh don’t know how you and Levi would sleep together being that I doubt two could fit in a tub, but any deviation to your routine sends him into a panic.
It’s his reality check that the situation is serious and he needs to fix it NOW.
He’d have trouble apologizing in person. He can’t think of what to say, he stumbles over his words, and he feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.
Instead, expect a long ass text message.
He says how sorry he is, how much he misses and loves you, and legit begs you to forgive him.
If you sleep with him like normal, he’ll probably try to make up after laying there for awhile. His mind is going a million miles an hour and there’s no way he can sleep.
Still really has trouble verbalizing how he feels, so give the poor boy a break and take over the conversation.
He hasn’t had a serious relationship before and he doesn’t know what he should do to make it better.
So the after effects will last however long it takes him to read several mangas, watch some anime, and play a few games to see how the characters get over arguments in the story.
Satan:
Satan makes sure not to fight with you over minor issues.
He’s worked tirelessly to tame his wrath and he refuses to feed into it over a minor issue.
Thus, if you fight with Satan it’s a major argument and it’s explosive.
The aftermath isn’t much better.
He doesn’t want to risk blowing up again, so he’s frighteningly calm.
He’s an absolute master of the silent treatment.
He won’t say a word to you until he’s certain he’s calmed down enough.
For the first few days he’ll straight up leave a room if you enter.
For a good while the only way you can expect to communicate with him is through his body language and the expression in his eyes.
Satan’s biggest fear is losing control and lashing out at you.
He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you and he can’t stand the thought of you being afraid of him.
He’s a whirlwind of emotions, so he isolates himself until he can figure out how to deal with it.
Not just from you, but from everyone else too.
Satan will not share a bed with you for at least the first night.
If he got worked up enough to actually fight, it’s gonna take him time to simmer down.
And he’d rather not risk doing or saying something he regrets in the meantime.
Once he’s ready, he’ll approach you when he’s completely calmed down and has thoroughly analyzed the situation.
He’s considered both of your sides, tried to pinpoint what caused the disagreement to turn into a fight, and made a plan of action to prevent it from happening again.
“MC? I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what happened. Would you please talk it through with me?”
He won’t apologize for the argument if he feels like he was right, but he will apologize for letting the disagreement escalate into a fight.
Satan could go weeks without making up if necessary, but he tries to resolve it within a couple of days.
Asmodeus:
Wants to give you the silent treatment, but is physically incapable.
He can’t stand to have you ignore him.
He’s the type to go back to normal then suddenly remembers you guys had a fight.
“Wait, no! I’m not talking to you! I’m mad at you!”
His biggest downfall is that he’s so stubborn.
If he thinks he was right, he will die on that hill.
There are arguments with his brothers that happened a thousand years ago and he could still tell you exactly why he was right.
But with you, he realizes that doesn’t matter too him nearly as much as it usually does.
If it means going back to normal, he’ll forget who’s right or wrong.
If you sleep in another room, he’s beyond offended.
“What?! Well fine! I don’t want you in my bed anyway!”
Laying in bed alone is a different story though.
He can’t sleep. All he can think about is you. Your face when you sleep next to him, your smell, the feeling of his arms around you.
He 100% cries.
Finally goes and knocks on your door with wet, glossy eyes.
“MC? Can we talk about this? I can’t get my beauty sleep and my tears are wiping off all of my skin care lotion!”
Will throw himself into your arms before you can answer.
If you sleep next to him still, he rolls over and watches you sleep.
It puts him at peace and he decides seeing your sweet, resting face every morning is worth more to him than the argument.
He’ll initiate the conversation the next morning.
I think Asmo could make it a few days if it was a really serious argument, but he will not function well until you make up.
Beelzebub:
Wants to make up immediately.
He doesn’t like to argue, even less so with you.
Whether he was right or wrong, he blames himself. He’ll take all the blame in the world if it makes you happy.
He’ll go make you your favorite food and bring it to you.
If he thinks you don’t want to talk to him, he’ll leave it outside your door and text you to let you know it’s there.
He’s honestly devastated if you decide to sleep in another room.
You guys migrate to your old room when you want privacy from Belphie, but you almost never sleep separately.
Seeing you grab your pillows and march out of the room nearly stops his heart.
He goes completely numb and silent as he just stares at the space you had just occupied.
Like Levi, he thinks this means the relationship is over and he genuinely does not know what to do with himself.
He can’t even bring himself to eat, he just wants to lie there, lost and trying to grapple with his emotions.
He’s another one who will absolutely cry, but unlike Asmo he will make sure no one knows it.
If you still sleep in his bed, he’s very nervous about it.
He doesn’t know if it’s okay to touch you, what he can or can’t say, stuff like that.
He just lays there stiff as a board not even able to close his eyes.
Honestly the fight would probably have to be resolved before bed. His anxiety just can’t take it.
I don’t think he’d initiate the apology. Not because he doesn’t want to make up but because his confidence is rock bottom in these situations.
He catastophizes and honestly thinks you hate him.
If you don’t initiate the apology soon, Belphie will. He can feel what his twin won’t say, and he knows Beel won’t approach you about it for fear of making it worse.
Belphie will lock you two in a room if that’s what it takes for you to make up.
Belphegor:
The embodiment of if looks could kill.
He won’t talk to you, won’t look at you, basically pretends you aren’t there.
If he must interact with you he’ll roll his eyes and sigh the whole time.
Tries to sleep through any interaction so he doesn’t have to deal with it.
He feels almost betrayed by the fight.
He thought the relationship was stronger than to have such a huge divide, so he’s really insecure about it.
After the first day, the anger has melted away to guilt.
He ‘s not guilty that you fought, but he is guilty about how he treated you after.
Guilt and self-blame have become unwelcome friends at this point. Guilt over Lilith, over his plans to destroy the human world, everything.
But more than anything else, the guilt for the fact that he attacked you weighs on him every day.
He moved past it quickly after, essentially pretending he hadn’t killed you, but that’s because he just couldn’t confront what he’d done.
He feels like the luckiest demon alive that you forgave him, let alone opened you heart enough to love him, and now it’s all in tatters.
Another thing to regret.
If you decide to sleep separately, it’ll hit him like a bag of bricks.
“You - what? Where are you going?”
It’ll take him a second to process what you were doing, but then he’ll roll over and let you leave.
“Fine. Don’t let the door hit you.”
No one will see him for awhile.
Belphie sleeps all the time anyway, but he just can’t make himself get out of bed.
If you don’t approach him to apologize, Beel will tell you that he’s been nauseous and randomly emotional which must mean his twin is coping very badly.
Will beg you to go make Belphie happy again.
If you sleep in his bed still, the argument will be resolved by morning.
He can’t keep himself from embracing you in his sleep, and it’s hard to say you’re mad at someone when you wake up in their loving arms.
It’s hard to pinpoint how long it could last with Belphie. If you don’t apologize first, he won’t let himself be conscious long enough to approach you.
This is both my first hc post as well as my first obey me post so I’m sorry if le boys are ooc. I just got this idea and couldn’t stop thinking about it so here we are. Especially Belphie, he was hard to me for some reason. Let me know if you guys agree or disagree and if you want to send a request or ask, my box is open!
#obey me#obeyme#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#obey me lucifer x mc#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x mc#obey me leviathan#obey me Levi#obey me levi x mc#obey me leviathan x mc#obey me satan#obey me satan x mc#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me asmo x mc#obey me asmodeus x mc#obey me beelezebub#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub x mc#obey me beel x mc#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me belphagor x mc#obey me belphie x mc#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmo x reader
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<- back to main page.
<- event m.list.
💐 ᝢ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎
✧ AKA, exclusive 3K special event.
ft. twisted wonderland (phase one) & genshin impact (phase two).
^ will have separate prompts since some below here don't exactly work for the genshin impact universe lol. dw I'll only change the ones that don't fit.
💐 ᝢ chat : good morning, afternoon or night. thank you SO much for 3k goddd. I love you all sm <3 T_T. make sure to take care of yourself, drink water, eat healthy meals every once in a while (and eat to your hearts content in some) of course, sleep well. you are doing great <3
💐 ᝢ time due : 6/22/2022 - 7/5/2022. requests for the event are open till then.
💐 ᝢ rules : come right over here before you request, the limit of prompts per one character is 3. and the maximum of characters you can request is 2.
💐 ᝢ note : so like the day I post this is coincidentally the day I'm going out with my family to the beach so I'll just let the reqs stack up until I get back lol, bye bye. 👋
below will be the list of headcanons, yes. headcanons, I prefer writing them. I suck at names, just put "can I have prompt 1 & 3 w/ ___ etc.."
💐 ᝢ headcanons :
infatuation — little things they do when love struck.
jealousy — something that might just make them do not so regretful things.
affection — how willing are they to shred a reputation to give you the love you deserve?
true face — how they act around you.
disagreement — what would you fight about and how will it be solved?
marry me? — jokingly asking to marry you.
sneaky — how often do they sneak in your room at night?
kabedonning — corner them into a wall and see what happens.
giving them your second button —the first button represents oneself, the second represents one's most beloved person, the third one represents best friend so on and so forth.
snooze — when you sleep with them
flushed — when you fluster them and how they act.
do you want a 'kiss' — not an actual kiss, the chocolate.
stareee — just stare in their eyes for no reason at all.
'here' — hold out your hand and see what they do.
falling (asleep) — you fall asleep on their shoulder.
intimacy — little intimate things.
casual affection — things that fall into normalcy as time passes by.
love languange — how they show love.
silence — what happens if you don't reply to their claim or love?
no touching — on a date but they can't initiate any physical contact whatsoever, does he finish through or fail?
it's only a few prompts but I promise I'll add more if I open another event in due time ☠ plus this is for celebration and fun.
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twst fluff#twst headcanons#twst imagines#twst scenarios#twst x you#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover x reader#ace trapolla x reader#deuce spade x reader#cater diamond x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#jack howl x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#kalim al asim x reader#jamil viper x reader#idia shroud x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#rook hunt x reader#epel felmier x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#silver x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#malleus draconia x reader
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Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, and Childe Finding out That You’re Being Abused HCs
cw: mentions/descriptions of (physical and emotional) abuse, injuries, depressive mood/thoughts, implied violence **please proceed with caution and do not read if this is triggering! note - submissions are confusing for me, so I wrote it in this format. I hope that was okay!
@tuestika said: Hi! Sorry that I send my request through submission, tumblr has sometimes eaten my asks either wholly or have omnomned whole ask xD Usually my requests sent through submissions arrive intact so…. I saw that you had done Scaramouche reacting finding out their s/o is being abused headcanons, may I request headcanons for Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao and Childe finding out their their s/o is being abused? Keep up good job! <3
🔥 Diluc 🔥
Diluc might not be the most vocal person in the world, but he’s definitely observant. He’s gotten rather skilled at picking apart your social cues because he’s spent a lot of time with you.
So when you barge into his tavern one evening, looking absolutely disheveled and asking for one of the Knights, he’s feeling two emotions: confusion and irritation.
For one, you shouldn’t even entrust your issue to those inadequate Knights. Nevertheless, you are his friend and he isn’t going to kick you out just because you mentioned them.
He waves you over to the bar and is thoroughly shocked when you beg him to let you hide behind it. Then he notices your split lip and the fresh injuries on your face and forearms, and he wastes no time in getting to the point.
“Why were you out so late fighting hilichurls? I hope you haven’t led any here. We don’t need that sort of trouble right now.”
“Sorry. No, that’s not it. I just—you’re the only one...” You’re struggling to piece a coherent statement together, too busy looking over your shoulder to keep track of your thoughts. “I didn’t know where I could go. I mean, I thought of you and—“
“Please slow down. Start at the beginning.”
More concerned over your safety than professionalism, Diluc allows you to slip behind the bar counter, where you cower on the ground to avoid being seen.
You gesture for him to come down to your height and he sighs, silently complying when he finds there aren’t any new customers to serve. Bending down to your level, he holds onto the countertop to keep his balance and then he locks eyes with you.
“What exactly happened?”
You inhale a shuddering breath, wrapping your sore arms around yourself for comfort. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you recall the event. Your abuser had found you after you’d left to get some fresh air, they’d cornered you in a secluded alley, and—you can’t finish the rest of the story.
Diluc doesn’t expect you to continue. He nods as he lets the information sink in, already harboring a deep resentment for this despicable individual.
“Wait here. I’ll close the tavern early. In the meantime, we should see to your injuries and then we’ll look for that person.”
“I really think we should tell the Knights...” you mumble, knowing he’ll disapprove. “They’re more suited to these types of cases.”
“The Knights are incompetent. The investigation will take days, if not weeks. What happens if your abuser knows they’ll be coming for them? They’ll try to escape and then there’ll be no telling where they’ve gone.”
“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to—“
“I’ll take care of it.”
You try to object because it’s dangerous and you don’t want him to get injured on your behalf. But he’s insistent in his decision, claiming that if the Knights can’t help you no one can. And you really wouldn’t feel safe if your abuser was still roaming free, so you have no other choice but to allow him to carry out the investigation himself.
And Diluc can be quite clever at times. It won’t be hard to traverse the interior of Mondstadt at night, where his identity melts away into that of the sneaky Darknight Hero.
He’s going to protect you no matter what. Your abuser won’t receive an ounce of sympathy from Diluc. All he feels is cold hatred when he catches them. Someone as precious as you does not deserve to be put through such torment, and he’ll see to it that your abuser pays a hefty price to make up for all of the damage they’ve caused.
🧊 Kaeya 🧊
Kaeya can’t understand why you’ve started isolating yourself from everyone. In the past, you were always such great friends with the Knights, always catching up to talk to one of them.
He’d spent a lot of time with you and has since gotten to know you through lighthearted conversations and gossip from the people of Mondstadt.
For someone so appreciated and well-known, he can’t wrap his head around why you might want to suddenly disappear, hiding yourself away as if you didn’t exist.
And then he happens to catch you in town one day while you’re out running some errands. It’s so like him to pop in with a few flirty lines, but the words stick in his throat when he notices the bandages stuck to your arms and legs.
“That can’t be good,” he says as he approaches you, leaning ever so gracefully against a wooden support beam. “Why don’t we find Barbara? I’m sure she’ll have you patched up in no time, my dear friend.”
You don’t think you’re worth it so you shake your head, nervously hoping he’ll take the hint and go away.
“I hope you’re not accepting those dangerous commissions again,” he adds, half teasing and half serious. You can’t tell whether he’s trying to sound chiding or not.
“Please just...leave me be. I’m a little busy right now.” You try to leave the stall you’re at, walking stiffly to avoid limping in front of him. “I’m not feeling well, so if you’ll excuse me—“
Kaeya pushes off from the beam, standing in front of you with a posture that appears immovable. “By order of the Calvary Captain,” he’s saying, a playful glint in his eyes, “you aren’t allowed to move from that spot until you tell me what’s bothering you and why you’re covered head to toe in bandages.”
You can easily object to such an order, but you figure it’s better to answer instead of arguing over your physical condition. So you explain a modified version of the story, telling him that you simply got into a disagreement and it ended in bruises on both sides.
Kaeya hears the tremble in your voice when you say it; you’re lying. His expression softens at once and he steps away, indicating that you’re free to leave. But you don’t; you’re looking at him with such a helpless, pleading look. It breaks his heart.
You break before him, lips quivering as you beg for his help. You’re so scared and alone, and you’re not sure how long you can suffer through this before it seriously hurts you.
“This is the first time I’ve gotten out in weeks.” So that explains your sudden isolation. “Please... I don’t want to go back home anymore. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let them hurt me again.”
Kaeya’s absolutely stunned to hear the silent revelation in your words. You’re awkwardly reaching to undo one of the bandage wrappings to prove your point, but he stops you short. That’s all the proof he needs.
You’ll be brought back to the Knights of Favonius’ Headquarters to be tended to while he gathers a team to search for your abuser. Since you gave him a solid description, it shouldn’t be too hard to find them.
And once they’re apprehended, Kaeya will subject them to a grueling interrogation. There will be no gentle punishment; it’s going to be as unforgiving as the abuse you had to suffer through.
☁️ Xiao ☁️
You’ve never really been keen on physical touch and Xiao understands that completely. He usually avoids any sort of interaction to begin with, unless it’s absolutely necessary, so it’s not a surprise whenever you shy away from large crowds.
He has grown rather fond of you, which has lead to the two of you meeting at Wangshu Inn for some Almond Tofu and relaxed chit-chat.
During one of your many conversations, you bring up a few alarming statements. They’re just personal points you’d like to change, such as your weak fighting spirit or the way your joints brokenly click when you stretch.
Xiao wonders why you’d want to change yourself. You’re not usually this doubtful of yourself. In the past, you would always play the role of his smiling friend, putting on a positive face even when he was in a disagreeable mood.
Xiao is examining your movements as you awkwardly explain yourself and when your arms move he catches the sight of a rope burn etched into your wrist.
“What happened?” He gestures to your sleeve, to which you react in a nervous manner, shyly pulling your sleeve down to hide it. Xiao frowns a bit. “Did you get into an accident?”
“No, of course not! I’m fine. It’s just a result of my clumsiness.”
It really doesn’t look like that to Xiao and when he truly looks at you again he finds that you appear abnormally tired and exhausted. He isn’t going to sugarcoat anything and he could be making a giant assumption, but he still asks.
“Is someone hurting you?”
Your eyes widen for a split second and Xiao catches that movement like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. He won’t force you to explain unless you feel comfortable doing so. The last thing he wants is upsetting you or pressuring you into something you don’t want to talk about.
Eventually, though, the story will come to light and he’ll hear all about the horrors you’ve gone through. That rope burn was just one of many punishments you’ve had to endure, and Xiao’s just about ready to snap. How dare someone lay their filthy hands upon you in such a violent way?
Xiao will calmly tell you to stay at Wangshu Inn or anywhere else in Liyue where you’ll be safe. He’ll watch over you while you take time to recuperate and heal. He’s going to make sure you’ll never have to go through something like that ever again.
Having Xiao by your side makes the healing process all the more comforting.
And when you fall asleep in a soft, warm bed, Xiao slips out into the night to search for your abuser. It won’t be a pretty sight once he gets his hands on the human trash who dared to hurt you.
💧 Childe 💧
He’s very perceptive when it comes to your health and overall well-being. After all, he’s got brothers and sisters to care for; perception is absolutely necessary in order to keep them happy and healthy.
So it doesn’t take long for him to realize your behavior is uncharacteristic. You’re jumpier than usual, always apologizing for the littlest of things, and you’ll look over your shoulder whenever you sense something.
It’s almost as if you expect someone to suddenly come at you, which isn’t all that odd. Childe has been known to keep you on your toes when he’s looking for a fight.
But on one particular day he manages to give you a spook when he comes up beside you, grinning and showing up in your peripheral so suddenly that it nearly gives you a heart attack.
You’re so frightened as you back away, practically folding in on yourself in an effort to protect yourself from an imaginary blow. Childe pauses, that silly grin fading when he realizes you’re shaking.
“Hey, it wasn’t that scary. Come on, comrade!” He’s approaching you warily, not entirely sure why you’re acting the way you are. He’s always been spontaneous; you should be used to this by now.
But you refuse to let him come any closer, having to distance yourself so that you can ease your racing heart and hyperventilating lungs. Once you’ve calmed down, embarrassment floods through you at the fact that Childe just witnessed all of that.
Childe will ask if you’re okay with him stepping closer and if you nod he’ll be on you like a hawk, pulling up your sleeves before you can stop him.
For once, you catch an expression you normally don’t find on Childe: surprise. He’s genuinely shocked at what he sees: dark bruises and shallow lacerations from something sharp.
Either you got these in your many sparring matches or there’s another factor at play here, and Childe is almost certain it’s the latter.
His voice is gentle as he asks you to explain what’s going on and once you do he’s already set on finding the one who did this. He seems to forget all about his Fatui work, wanting to capture your abuser and give them a piece of his mind—and subject them to more than a few pieces of his strength, too.
He’ll have you protected in no time, offering to take you to the best healer. You’ll be treated wonderfully and he’ll even lay off on your sparring matches for a while.
In the meantime, once he gets his hands on your abuser, everything becomes fair game. After all, someone has to handle the brunt of his anger and pent-up bloodlust from the lack of a fight. And your abuser is the perfect match to pummel into the ground. Childe shows absolutely no mercy for them.
#tw: abuse#tw: violence#tw: depressive thoughts#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact hcs#genshin impact diluc#genshin impact kaeya#genshin impact xiao#genshin impact childe#diluc x reader#kaeya x reader#xiao x reader#childe x reader#diluc#kaeya#xiao#childe#kaeya headcanons#diluc headcanons#xiao headcanons#childe headcanons
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The Wounded
Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader [Dating], Bucky Barnes x Reader [Platonic] Warnings: mantions of kidnapping, slight depictions of PTSD, angst Summary: After you survive a kidnapping that ends up affecting you in ways you and Steve never anticipated, you turn to Bucky for comfort leaving Steve confused and insecure. A/N: alright this is an older one I had sitting on my computer i felt like uploading but very sorry for the lack of content! I am currently dealing with finals but this is my last year so fingers crossed i’ll have more time after this! Still, please enjoy this, I remember really enjoying writing it :)
Masterlist
You shot up in bed suddenly, praying your eyes would adjust to the pitch black darkness of your bedroom fast enough to ease your brain. As your heart raced and sides ached with bruises, you took in your surroundings finally.
You were in your bed, your boyfriend Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. You knew this in your brain but your heart didn’t. It still raced relentlessly, just a haunting reminder of your latest nightmare.
The nightmares always had the same theme. They always seemed to circle back to your troubling and scarring kidnapping you had suffered just a few weeks ago. It was a devastating ploy by some equally devastating men to get to your boyfriend. The abduction didn’t last very long — just about a week in some musty, dirty cell being kicked around — but the scars it left on your brain where so much deeper than you had ever realized until recently.
The physical abuse was bad but the bruises and cuts were healing just fine. It was the mental and emotional games they played that was going to take longer to ease. The words were haunting and they followed you in every crevasse of your brain, typically leaving you running on a couple of hours a sleep. It was a cruel routine: go to bed safe and sound, find peace for two hours, wake up in a cold sweat, watch mindless TV in the common area until breakfast.
Here we go, you thought as you made your way out of the bed. Steve was still undisturbed, in a peaceful dream sleep, typically unaware of your absence. The few times he had caught on you rushed him back to bed, claiming you just wanted a midnight snack. He never questioned it but his eyes always told you he wasn’t convinced. You ignored it — you just couldn’t tell him. The guilt he carried about your kidnapping was unbelievable. You worked so hard to convince him you were alright, it wasn’t ever his fault, and that the wounds were healing because you couldn’t bare to see those eyes in such a miserable state.
It really wasn’t a total lie — the wounds were swell and you wouldn’t dare to blame him for something not in his control — but then the nightmares started. The daunting voice began chiming in. The depression… the anxiety… the fear… it all came at once so unexpectedly.
You tugged on your fluffy robe along with your slippers and made your way to the kitchen. As you rounded the corner you were stunned to see the kitchen light already on. Peaking your head in, your eyes fell on Bucky who was situated at the kitchen island snacking on some chips.
You stared, unsure of whether you should head to the living room and venture into the kitchen. No one had ever been up with you before and if they did, they never made themselves known.
"I can feel you staring, Y/N."
Bucky’s rough voice brought you out of your ridiculous phase. You sighed and made your way to the fridge.
"What are you doing up?" You asked, grabbing a carton of vanilla ice cream along with a spoon and making your way to the island. You stood opposite of him, watching and waiting for a reply as he crunched on the chips.
"Isn’t this the time you always get up?"
His question stunned you. Holding his intense stare, you placed your spoon on the counter next to the ice cream. Suddenly, your stomach was in a knot. Maybe a part of you didn’t want anyone to know what was going on.
"I just wanted a snack," You gave your go-to spiel but the ex-assassin wasn’t buying one bit of it.
"Every night?" Bucky scoffed. "Probably should eat a bigger dinner, then."
You rolled your eyes as he gave you his know-it-all smirk. You loved Bucky really —totally loved his company and all that — he had been such a great friend to you and so inviting but no matter what, without a fail, he could always pick up on anything that was off. Steve, of course, could see right through you but he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. He was gentler with you, never wanting to pry or upset you, and you were so thankful for that. But Bucky didn’t give a shit — if something was wrong he was gonna find out one way or another.
"Why are you up?" You repeated your initial question, getting a bit fed up with this now. He stalled your question and reached for more chips. You sighed in annoyance and opened the ice cream carton, digging into the creamy deliciousness.
"Something’s up with you," Bucky finally answered. His voice was a bit softer and way less cocky. Hearing someone express they saw you weren’t okay nearly had you in tears. You shoveled more ice cream in your mouth, staring down at the granite counter.
You shook your head. "Just wanted a snack."
"Jesus Christ, Y/N." Bucky groaned. "Come on, don’t make this hard." You placed your spoon in the carton, pushing it to the side. You fiddled with your nails as thoughts and feelings swarmed in your brain. It couldn’t hurt for someone to know, right?
"Nightmares," You spoke softly, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Just some bad nightmares."
"The kidnapping," He whispered. You saw his fists clinch at the mention of it. Your kidnapping had shocked everyone. They all had their own way of handling it but usually it was just a lot of confusion. You weren’t some hero. You didn’t have magical power or a fancy training. You were just a nurse who bandaged up the heroes when they came back. Even with dating Steve, no one expected you to be a casualty.
"It’s really messing with my brain," The words were rough to get out but once they were out there, you felt a new freedom. A weight you never realized was so heavy was being lifted so carelessly with words.
Bucky just nodded and waited for you to continue.
From then on, your nightly routine was no longer a lonesome thing. Bucky began joining you every night with snacks and a therapy session. It felt easy to talk with him about it especially since he understood. He didn’t have to pretend to know how you felt — he had felt it all, too. He got what being captive was like, how the mental manipulation went, how strong the effects of it all could be… You for once didn’t feel crazy. But most importantly — someone knew. Like really knew. And you were immensely grateful.
It seemed to be helping as well. You knew when the thoughts got rough, you could just spew it all out. You could talk about what exactly had happened to you without fear of being looked at differently. The whole thing was like breathing fresh air. You could even sometimes fall back asleep on the couch which now put your sleeping time up to four glorious hours.
The nightly chats really put your daytime spirits back up. So much so, Steve was getting a little suspicious. While he was so relieved you seemed to be doing better, the steps you took to get there were still a mystery to him and you could tell he was curious. When you’d join him in your shared room at the end of the day, he’d ask more questions about what you had done through the day. It was almost like he wanted a play-by-play and you did your best to comply.
It wasn’t until a week or so later that he started catching on to you leaving in the middle of the night. Without knowing it, he had used all his might to stay up one night to see if something was going on. You didn’t appear to be doing anything but work during the day so something must’ve been happening in the night — and that’s when his mind wandered. The thoughts of what could be helping you started to get a little unpleasant.
It was a random Tuesday night and you were on the couch with Bucky eating some pretzels. He was sitting up right while you were laying on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. You were going on about how your nightmares had gotten weaker when unexpected foot steps halted your words.
"What’s this?" The unmistakably strong voice of your boyfriend boomed through the living room. You scrambled to sit up, throwing pretzels all over the coffee table. Both stunned and unsure, you and Bucky stared at Steve. His demeanor was hard, his face unamused, and his eye said he was ready for a fight.
"Steve, babe, what-," You fumbled for your words, trying your best to reason. He hadn’t caught you two doing anything but his energy was so startling it made you unexplainably scared.
"What? What am I doing up? What are you doing up?" He marched towards the couch. Hesitantly, you stood up to face him. Bucky stayed seated, looking at you both with a slight expression of annoyance. He knew how possessive his best friend could get but this felt excessive.
"Just wanted a snack-,"
"Don’t bullshit me," Steve growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. You jumped at the harshness. Sure, you guys had had disagreements before but this was entirely new.
"I… I’m not… Steve-,"
Steve took a deep breath.
"Y/N," His voice got deeper. It was slightly too calm compared to his attitude just seconds before. "Tell me why you’re up at night sneaking around with my best friend."
"Sneaking around?!" You gasped. "Steve, that is not-,"
"OH, IT’S NOT?" Steve’s voice boomed throughout the common area. Even a watching Bucky jumped at the noise.
You quickly backed away from him, completely scared beyond belief. His eyes were harsh, his entire demeanor fuming with anger. You had never seen anything like this from him and it started to bring up the memories you worked so hard to heal from.
"Steve, man, take it down a notch…" Bucky finally stood from the couch and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulder.
Steve flinched back, nearly ready to throw one at Bucky, but something in him clicked. He lowered his hand and took a few deep breaths. Coming to his senses, he looked at you and saw the absolute horror on your face. He had never seen you look at him like that and it broke him into a million pieces.
"I… just… what the hell is going on?" Steve meant for it to come out nicer, but the harshness was yet to leave him and his tone. You started rubbing your hands together, a nervous tick you’ve had forever. Bucky tried to get you to stop when he noticed your movements, but Steve’s cold glare wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.
"I can’t sleep anymore," you said, breaking the silence with a much more powerful voice than you intended. You didn’t know you had the strength. "Ever since… I can’t sleep. I keep having these nightmares and Bucky’s been helping."
Steve scoffed, "Helping?"
Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Now you were getting weary of both super soldiers.
"We sit up talking," Bucky explained. "It helps her… well both of us, really, to talk, watch TV… anything."
"And you didn’t tell me this because…?" Steve asked, pointing his attention back on you. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went down your spine as his cold gaze. You sighed, realizing the gig was up.
"God, Steve, I didn’t wanna worry you!" You exclaimed. "The last thing you need is a girlfriend with PTSD. You go through enough shit and I just didn’t wanna pile it on."
The admission sat in the air heavily around you three. Bucky looked relieve you finally said something but Steve’s eyes just held so much confusion. Personally, you felt so much weight coming off you. You thought you’d never have to tell him, assumed everything would sort itself out, but no, you finally spoke up.
"Honey," Steve sighed with sudden tears forming in his eyes. "You didn’t… You shouldn’t have done that, you know you can tell me anything, right?"
You nodded, "Steve it was just so scary. I didn’t know what to do. Bucky was just there and he got it and would just sit up with me and-,"
"Alright, hon," Steve cut you off and made his way closer. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch away. "I understand and I’m glad you had someone, but I would’ve helped. I can help you, sweetheart."
"I’m sorry," You whispered as he pulled you into a hug. You threw your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest, letting the pent up tears flow. Steve rest his chin on your head, stroking your hair softly.
"I didn’t know you were hurting this much," he admitted.
"It’s been so fucking scary,"
Steve could almost feel his heart breaking at the sound of your voice alone. Your words just piled on so much.
"I should let you two…" Bucky began, essentially forgotten standing next to you two. You pulled away from Steve to look at him.
"Thank you, Buck," you said.
Steve nodded in agreement. "I’m sorry for the overreacting I just… I thought the worst, but really you probably saved my girl."
Bucky gave a small smile and patted Steve on the back. "I didn’t do anything. It’s her strength you gotta thank."
With that, he made his way to the elevator and back to his room, leaving you two still standing in an embrace in the common area. You stared up at Steve, watching his expression towards you change. What was once so scary and harsh was back to the softest man you’d ever met.
"We’ll make some calls in the morning but for now, would you come back to bed?" Steve asked. "I can’t imagine anymore nights without you."
You nodded, giving him a peck on the lips. He led you back to the shared bedroom and for once, you went to bed with a sense of hope.
#steve rogers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers imagine#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes imagine#angst#steve rogers angst#mcu#mcu fic#marvel one shot#marvel fanfiction#marvel#avengers#writing*#fluff
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EMIMH12, here
11 or 12 for some disaster trio? If you're still taking prompts 🥰
Hi there!! Thank you for the prompt!! //From these angst prompts.
Here's some post-deception, disaster trio angst for ya!
---
Obi-Wan’s comm crackles to life and he warms at the blue glow of his grandpadawan.
“Ahsoka, it’s good to—”
“Master!” Ahsoka cries. “Obi-Wan are you there?”
“Yes, little one, I’m here,” Obi-Wan says, his senses jumping to full alert. He analyzes her expression — the way her markings are raised in alarm atop widened eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to come here!” she exclaims.
“Where is here?” Obi-Wan asks, already gathering his things.
“Mine and Anakin’s quarters. Hurry!”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan repeats.
“It’s Anakin. Something’s wrong. His skin is so hot and he—”
“Is he sick?”
“Yeah, but he—”
Obi-Wan stops gathering his things and frowns. “Then maybe you should call a healer. I don’t think he’ll want to see me,” he says, trying to keep the tightness out of his voice. Ahsoka is not deserving of his or Anakin’s ire.
“Master,” Ahsoka says, and Obi-Wan can hear the desperation in her voice. “He won’t wake up.”
Obi-Wan’s heart stutters.
“He won’t wake up?” he repeats quietly.
“Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka whimpers, dropping the title from his name altogether. “You have to help him. Please.”
“I’m on my way, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says. He tears out of the archives, garnering a glare from Master Nu. He doesn’t care. He can apologize to her later. Anakin needs him now.
Obi-Wan hasn’t spoken to Anakin in days. Anakin had all but sealed off their bond, leaving Obi-Wan entirely unaware of his physical and mental state, though Obi-Wan has his guesses about the latter.
He runs through the halls of the Temple, just like Anakin used to — no matter how many times Obi-Wan told him to stop. He reaches Anakin and Ahsoka’s quarters and punches in the lock code.
It doesn’t open.
Obi-Wan doesn’t pause to feel hurt by Anakin changing the locks up on him. Their petty disagreements don’t matter right now. Instead, Obi-Wan centers himself and coaxes the lock open with the Force. The door slides open and a balm of warm air immediately settles over him.
Obi-Wan’s eyes land on the couch where his former padawan is currently laying. Ahsoka is crouched down on the floor so that she is at eye level with him. Obi-Wan crosses the room and drops down right next to her.
This close to Anakin, Obi-Wan can feel the heat rolling off of his skin. His eyes are closed.
“Anakin,” he says in the same stern voice he used when Anakin overslept for one of his classes. It is even less effective now than it was then. Anakin’s eyes remain closed.
He shakes Anakin’s shoulders and pats his cheek. He still fails to receive a response. Obi-Wan rests his fingers on Anakin’s neck and grimaces. His heart rate is elevated — a sure sign of illness — as if the high temperature were not already enough.
“Wake up, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says softly.
“He’s been complaining of the cold,” Ahsoka says. “That’s why it’s so hot in here. He just kept turning up the heat. I thought… he’s always cold, I just thought… And then he got sick and it made sense, but I didn’t know how sick until he wouldn’t wake up.”
“It’s alright, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan soothes. “Anakin’s not exactly good at conveying when something is wrong.”
“Wonder where he gets that from,” Ahsoka mutters.
Obi-Wan narrows his eyes before returning his attention to Anakin.
“How long has he been like this?”
“He’s only been unconscious for an hour, but he’s been sick for two days,” Ahsoka confirms.
Two days. Two days and Obi-Wan didn’t even know about it. Were they really so beyond mending that Obi-Wan could no longer sense when Anakin was in pain?
He places a hand on Anakin’s burning forehead and closes his eyes.
“What are you doing?” Ahsoka asks when he doesn’t pull his hand away.
“I’m trying to heal him,” Obi-Wan says through clenched teeth.
“Master! You aren’t a healer, that’s dangerous, you should—”
“I just want him to wake up. When he wakes up I’ll stop.”
“But—”
“I need to wake him up,” Obi-Wan says firmly.
If Ahsoka wants to protest, she stops herself. Obi-Wan sinks into the Force — its embrace warmer than any room where Anakin had control of the thermostat. He pulls upon the strength of the Force — the strength inside of him — and focuses on transferring it to his former padawan. His palm starts to burn as energy flows through him to Anakin
Dizziness starts to slow his progress, just as Anakin stirs beneath him. Obi-Wan opens his eyes and pulls his hand away.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan questions hopefully. “Can you hear me?”
“‘Wan?” Anakin slurs. His eyes are fever bright and brimming with tears. “Thought you were dead.”
“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan reassures. “It was just a mission. It’s over now, I’m right here.”
“Yeah,” Anakin says weakly. “You were shot and you fell and I saw it and…”
“Hush, we need to get you to a healer, alright?”
“Don’t wanna.”
“I don’t care.”
“Are we both dead?” Anakin asks. “That would make sense. I can’t feel you.”
Obi-Wan’s heart clenches.
“Your shields, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers. “You’ve shielded yourself from our bond. You just have to let me in.”
Anakin’s face scrunches up. “Oh. Okay.”
Anakin blinks. His shields are gone.
Obi-Wan gasps as the overpowering essence of Anakin Skywalker saturates the space around them. Anakin rarely lets his full Force presence shine through his shields, even when they aren’t fighting. Even Ahsoka flinches at the sheer intensity of it all. Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temple in discomfort.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathes his name. “Anakin that’s enough. Please.”
“You’re alive,” Anakin says with a soft smile. Pure, unadulterated happiness rolls off of Anakin in waves. “I can feel you.”
“Yeah and we can feel you too,” Ahsoka says sharply. “Can you tone it down a bit, Skyguy?”
That pulls Anakin further out of his daze. “Hey Snips!” he says enthusiastically.
“He’s delirious,” Ahsoka says. “We need to get him to a healer.”
“I concur,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Easy now, Anakin.” Obi-Wan pulls Anakin’s arm over his shoulder and lifts him to his feet. Ahsoka steadies his other side and together they hobble over to the halls of healing.
“What happened to him?” Vokara Che asks as they practically burst through the front doors.
“He’s sick,” Ahsoka supplies. “Obi-Wan got him to wake up, but he’s really out of it.
“Yes, I can sense that,” Vokara says, wincing at the sheer power still coming from Anakin’s unshielded presence. “Bring him here.”
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka drag him over to a bed and lay him down. Vokara begins assessing him.
“His fever is dangerously high,” Vokara Che says. “I’m putting him on fluids and fever reducers. He’ll be fine, but he really should have been brought in sooner.”
Ahsoka shrinks into herself.
“This is not your fault, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says quickly. “Anakin is an adult. He should know his own limits. It is not your fault that he did not seek medical attention.”
“Wonder where he gets that from,” Vokara mutters before exiting the room.
Obi-Wan sighs. “I wish people would stop saying that,” he says, more to himself than to anyone.
“We only say it 'cause it’s true,” Ahsoka says, the beginnings of a smile curving one side of her lips.
“Oh, shut up.”
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka settle themselves into uncomfortable plastic chairs beside Anakin’s bed. Obi-Wan wonders for a moment how Anakin will react to seeing him when he is not in a state of delirium. He considers leaving, but the larger part of him that cares for Anakin’s well-being more than his own wins. He cannot bear to leave without first seeing his former apprentice awake and on the mend.
Of course, it does not take too long for that to happen. The fever reducers injected directly into his bloodstream have served their intended purpose and Anakin’s eyes crack open slightly. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka perk up.
“Master?” Ahsoka questions. “Master, are you feeling better?”
Anakin groans before looking at her. “A little. Not really.”
Obi-Wan hums and Anakin startles, seemingly just noticing his former Master for the first time.
Anakin’s eyes narrow and zero in on Obi-Wan.
“What are you doing here?” Anakin questions menacingly.
“Anakin,” Ahsoka chastises, before Obi-Wan motions for her to stop fighting his battles.
Anakin blinks. His shields are back up.
Obi-Wan recoils at the sudden loss. In a heartbeat, Obi-Wan would have taken back the turbulent ocean waves of Anakin’s presence — crashing into him over and over — if it meant he did not have to suffer the emptiness left behind in his wake. But every tide is destined to recede at some point or another.
“I’m sorry, Anakin. I’ll leave you to rest,” Obi-Wan says. “I do hope you feel better soon.”
He does not await a reply, fearing that it will only strengthen the emptiness.
Obi-Wan walks away, holding onto the hope that the Anakin that was so happy to see him alive is still in there somewhere — smothered, but not destroyed by the pain of his deception.
#my writing#thanks for the prompt!#angst#post deception arc#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano
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A Little Bit of Guidance (Alcina Dimitrescu x femme!reader) pt. 2
Part 1
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you, all for all of the positive support and feedback on my first chapter! I'm really glad that so many of you are enjoying the MC and Maia and their Asian identities.
CW: homophobia, suggested homophobic language
You were certain that the two of you were going to crash.
“Holy shit!”
“Please, please calm down.”
“Alcina Dimitrescu asked you out on a date and you said WHAT?!?!”
“Maia, it’s not a date. At least… I don’t think it is? I don’t know, you’re the one that said she’s not serious about dating and I’m not sure I could handle something so quick and casual. I’m not looking to intentionally hurt myself.”
“So you do like her?”
The light turns yellow and you come to a stop at an intersection where you take the opportunity to close your eyes for five seconds, your lips pressing against each other like you’re trying to get rid of a headache.
“Does it really matter? She probably just feels bad for everything that happened.”
“Ughhhh, you’re impossible,” your friend groans and lightly bangs her head on the back of the passenger seat headrest. A minute or two later she stirs with a wide look in her eyes. “What would you say if one of your students came to you asking about the same situation?”
You can’t help but laugh. “What would I do if a 13 year old kid told me a fully grown adult woman offered to take them to dinner? Probably call a child predator hotline and report it to the authorities.”
“That’s not what I meant! Fine, what if they said that another student they were interested in asked them to Chuck E. Cheese or something-”
“I am 95% sure that kids today aren’t hanging out at Chuck E. Cheese.”
“I said ‘or something’ didn’t I? Just say they got asked to see a movie with someone but thought it was only because the other person felt bad for them. What do you tell them?”
You release a sigh. She definitely had you there and you both knew it too. “I’d remind them of how awesome they are and how much they deserve to be happy. And if they kept pushing back I’d say even if the other person was really just doing it out of pity then it only reflects on how poor their own character is. It would also be unfortunate on their part for being unable to recognize how great you are and anyone else would be lucky to spend that time with you.”
Maia wears a familiar devilish grin on her face but doesn’t press you much harder. “Just think about extending the same compassion to yourself. And don’t keep her waiting too long. But wow, who knew my best friend could be such a tease?”
“That’s enough,” you can’t help but smile though as she teases you. From the corner of your eye you can also see that she’s beginning to drift off and let sleep take over. “But thank you, Maia. I appreciate it.”
-~-
At your new job time flies by without giving you a second to catch your breath. Being a guidance counselor wasn’t exactly new to you but the type of school you were working at now certainly was. You had only worked in the public school system beforehand and knew that there were bound to be at least a few differences at the private preparatory school you were starting at, but nothing could have prepared you for the change. Dealing with high schoolers hadn’t been smooth sailing by any means but it had given you a purpose you took a lot of pride in. Some of the students that you’d worked with had been ready to drop out for a variety of different reasons but were able to push through with a bit of help, graduate, and continue to carry on very positive lives. You had mediated all types of conflicts from petty disagreements to much more serious physical fights and could immediately recognize when something was escalating way too quickly. Something most people didn’t know was that as violent boys could get in their fights it was actually the girls that scared you the most. They seemed to operate on an entirely different plane where no rules applied and no mercy was shown. So far for you, private school antics might have been a bit more tame in some ways but the stress levels you were dealing with now seemed to have no limits.
At least a dozen times before noon you’d get calls from parents wanting to dictate the most minute details of their children’s lives. These weren’t the typical over-involved parents either, they were tiger moms and dads, helicopter parents, lawnmower parents, BULLDOZER PARENTS, and even worse.
“My son needs to be in both Arabic and Chinese! It’s important that he’s quadrilingual by the time he’s applying for colleges.”
“Taylor’s private history tutor already covered half of what’s on this semester’s syllabus. I believe she should be exempt from that period to pursue her independent study and receive an automatic A.”
“Here’s my email address and I expect weekly updates on my daughter every Friday before 5pm. That means if she visits your office to discuss anything at all I need to hear about it in extreme detail.”
“They keep putting my son in group projects which is 100% unacceptable! For the amount of money I pay for him to attend this school he shouldn’t be working with the other kids. He has way too much potential and I don’t want him to be influenced by those of a lower intelligence.”
Many of the requests you got were so ludicrous that it made you want to pull your hair out. Luckily, today was surprisingly better in terms of your workload and you’d been able to respond to your many emails and calls a good hour before school let out. A quick glance at your calendar and suddenly you made a realization that practically slapped you in the face. It had been nearly two weeks since the incident at Dimitrescu. Two weeks since Lady Dimitrescu herself had asked you to dinner and you’d given the most pathetic excuse of a response possible and felt like an idiot ever since.
There were still so many things that worried you about saying ‘yes’ and taking a chance on a woman that was way out of your league but yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to say ‘no’ either. You wanted to have hope.
“How many people do you think she’s asked out to dinner before? Because I’ve never heard of it,” Maia had asked you the night before as you two were lounging on your couch watching the end credits of a movie roll by.
“That doesn’t mean this dinner is going to lead to anything else. Sometimes dinner is just that. Dinner.”
“And a hook up,” your friend cheekily suggests with a grin.
“I’m not sleeping with her, Maia. Even if by some chance she wanted to, I’m not ready. Not after everything that happened last time.”
“And I don’t blame you at all. She was a real shitty person with an even shittier sense of humor. I don’t think she ever laughed at a single one of my jokes, which I must say is a huge red flag for me as your best friend. But Lady Dimitrescu is definitely not your sleazy ex-girlfriend.”
You shoved your face into a nearby pillow and let out a groan. “The thing is I know that! I know they’re not the same but I’m terrified that she’ll have one idea of what she wants to happen and then mine will be totally different.”
“So then get on the same page!” Maia irritatingly throws a handful of popcorn at you as soon as you start to re-emerge from your pillow so you rush to pick it back up and defend yourself. “Your whole thing is stressing healthy communication so that misunderstandings don’t happen but you’re too afraid to talk to this woman who is clearly interested in you? Just explain that you have a complicated dating history and wanna take things slow. If she can’t agree to those terms then she’s just not the one. We’ll cry about it over some dairy-free ice cream, leave a couple of bad reviews on her website, and get through it together.”
Even if you weren’t yet 100% ready to say yes, you knew that discussing your expectations and wishes with Lady Dimitrescu could at least help you make a more informed decision. Wanting to be brave, you then decided that you were going to call her as soon as you got off work to talk about what “dinner” was exactly and what it meant to the both of you. You reached for your bag and began to look.
Holy shit.
There was no way this was happening.
“No, no, please, no,” you plead under your breath and begin to dump everything out from your wallet, desperate to find the business card with her personal number written on the back. Credit cards, your school I.D., driver’s license, other random things, and exactly four loyalty cards for the same coffee shop with only one or two stamps on each fall out. But what you’re looking for isn’t there and it looks like it never existed in the first place.
A knock on your door makes you jump up from your seat. After scrambling to put everything back in its place you reach for the handle and open it swiftly. Standing in front of you is the principal of the school who is clearly unhappy with the student she has with her. She appears to be on the younger side with her red hair lightly tossed.
“This is Daniela from the sixth grade,” the principal explains and you immediately give the student an encouraging smile although she’s visibly in distress. You wonder what could have made her so upset but assume you’re about to find out. “She slapped one of her classmates but this was her first offense so we’ve already given her three days of in-school suspension. We were hoping you could talk her down.”
“Of course, please, come in,” you gesture for the young girl to take a seat in the chair across from your desk and watch her carefully as she settles in. While you expected her to be angry, you can tell that she’s deeply hurt underneath her surface which raises a lot of concern. The approach you take has to be very careful and come from some area of understanding. “You don’t look like the type that slaps people for no reason, so can I ask what this other person did that made you so upset?”
Daniela wipes at the corner of her eyes and doesn’t look at you at first but she speaks. “The teacher was out of the classroom so I was talking to my girlfriend Hannah. She sits behind me so I was kinda turned around and we were holding hands. That’s when Darren started pointing at us calling us ‘ugly lesbians’ and then another word that I… I’ve heard it once before but I was told never to say it.” She’s so quiet you decidedly get up and maneuver yourself from behind your desk to kneel in front of her so that you’re just about at eye-level. Her arms are still crossed in her lap and she’s solely focused on the floor. The fact that she’s trying to hide her tears breaks your heart and while you wish you could reach out to her you’re not sure if she’d be comfortable with that yet.
“Did this word start with the letter D?” You try to ask her carefully and Daniela looks up at you and slowly nods. Something drops in your throat but you remember that this is about calming her down, not getting angry. You’ll have to deal with that later.
“Then he said of course I’m one of those because my mom is too. Hannah was squeezing my hand so hard but I was just so angry at him. He was just laughing at us and I wanted him to stop. So with my other hand I got up and slapped him.” There was no possible way that you could let this student know you were secretly rooting for them. Looking back on your grade school memories, you would’ve given anything to serve those racists and homophobes who had called you every slur in the book a piece of your mind. The pain of your past still stung immensely, but nothing you had experienced came close to being told that your sexuality was something determined by your parents. Whoever this Darren was, you hoped that his slap had stung more than just a little bit.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that, Daniela. He never should have said any of that. It was beyond homophobic and offensive and I can understand why you felt so outraged hearing it.”
Almost instantly, her mood changes and she unleashes a cry of fury. “But he didn’t even get in trouble! He lied to our teacher and nobody except me and Hannah said anything else!”
Okay, excuse me WHAT?!
“What do you mean he didn’t get in trouble?” Despite keeping your voice composed, on the inside you’re simply infuriated.
“He didn’t get into trouble. Not with our teacher, not with our principal. He never does because he gets away with everything!”
“Well, I can assure you that I’ll discuss this with both of them personally afterwards.” The idea of this kid getting off the hook after saying something so homophobic was not going to slide by you.
“It doesn’t matter,” Daniela’s reddened face is completely covered in tears now from her full on sobbing. “His dad is like the number one donor to this school. Even if you told them everything it wouldn’t make a difference.”
So these were the politics you were dealing with at this school. The realization almost makes you physically grimace and you suddenly feel powerless in your new position. Knowing that there’s practically nothing you can do to protect Daniela and other students from trust fund kids like Darren is quite literally sickening. One thing that stops you from marching straight out of your office is the pain in Daniela’s voice as she speaks almost incoherently. “Please, you have to understand,” you hear between sniffles and automatically catch her in your arms as her limp body falls forward. “I know I shouldn’t have slapped him *sniff* but it’s not fair!”
“Shhh,” you gently rub circles on her back in an attempt to comfort her as she continues to shake. “You’re absolutely right, Daniela, but I promise you I’ll figure this out. He’ll be facing the consequences.” You continue to gently rock her in your arms for the next few minutes as she gradually begins to come down from her emotional high. When she’s able to speak in uninterrupted sentences again she tries to apologize but you abruptly dismiss her.
“There’s no need to apologize to me, Daniela,” you assure her while offering up a tissue that she gladly takes. “I’m here to help you process your emotions in a healthy way. I know that can be really scary doing it with someone you’ve just met but I’m glad that you trusted me enough to open up and tell me what happened. Just know that I have your back. People like us have to stick together.”
Her eyes widen when she connects the dots and you simply give her a smile of confirmation. “Does it ever get easier to deal with?” Daniela seems so nervous about asking you her question and you immediately share her sense of hesitancy. The last thing you want to do is lie to her but you also feel the need to give her some hope.
“Can I tell you something that I wish I knew at your age?” Daniela silently nods, curious to know what it is you’re going to say. “Being queer is so beautiful and you should always embrace your true self. There was a long time that I was afraid to do just that because of what people like Darren kept telling me, so I forced myself to live a lie. It’s something that I deeply regret. Those types of people want you to be miserable. It’s not that you’re not allowed to be hurt or upset when stuff like this happens but the best way to get back up is by refusing to give them what they want. Joy and happiness are some of the greatest forms of resistance that we have and I encourage you to fight back with your own.’
Just as she’s about to say something else a loud noise announces the presence of another person entering.
“Daniela, I had to leave in the middle of a meeting for this, now could you-” Your office is all but torn open and for the second time in less than two weeks you’re caught in the presence of the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Only this time she’s just as surprised as you and she’s left clueless at how this situation could have possibly unfolded.
“Hi,” you manage to get out somehow without puking all over the floor. “You must be Daniela’s mother. I’m the new school guidance counselor. We were just discussing how the boy she slapped initially harassed her with homophobic insults and called her a slur. That’s why she was so distressed.”
“It’s you,” she stares you down with the intensity of something you can’t quite pinpoint but then quickly blinks and tries to compose herself. “Forgive me I… I didn’t realize you worked here.”
“Oh my God, you two know each other?” Daniela looks back and forth between the two of you and her face goes completely sour. “Mother, please don’t tell me it’s because you slept with her for fun and then never called her back.”
What was HAPPENING!?
“DANIELA! Please go wait in the car and I’ll be there shortly,” the lady is the reddest you’ve ever seen anyone before but you’re way too stunned to speak.
“Yes mother,” the girl says in disappointment and quickly walks heads for the door. She turns and offers you a half smile while mouthing ‘thank you’ right before closing the door. Once again, it just leaves the two of you...
“Lady Dimitrescu, I-”
“I must apologize-”
You each end up stumbling over your words which creates an even bigger mess that you both end up nervously laughing at. “Would you like to sit down?” Shy as ever you motion to where Daniela was just sitting and try to find your way back to your spot without tripping. The weight of her eyes trailing your body certainly does not go unnoticed and you’re relieved that she can’t see you fiddling with your hands behind your desk. Once you’re both settled in she speaks.
“I’m sorry for Daniela’s behaviour today. The principal already informed me about the situation in class but I can’t begin to explain what’s gotten into her.”
“No, I think I understand. Daniela seems like a really good kid but she was just caught up in a tough situation. It’s my job to deal with these types of conflicts but only after understanding both sides of the story.”
“So the Pearson boy goaded her then?”
“Oh, you mean Darren? Yeah he said some really cruel things from my understanding. Daniela was so heartbroken recounting the whole event. It made me pissed to hear he got away with it too. I don’t know him personally but I’m honestly dreading having to meet him or his father.” The laugh Lady Dimitrescu releases when she sees how you scrunch up your face in a very cute frustration takes you by surprise. You really shouldn’t have said that. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that!”
“Not to worry, my dear, though I’d say your intuition is correct. Lawrence Pearson is the definition of an insipid man thing but unfortunately he has the entire city at the mercy of his bank account,” she practically spits in disgust and now it’s your turn to laugh at how strangely adorable she looks.
“I’m sorry I… I’m just really glad I got to see you. Not that I’m glad about what transpired with Daniela and her classmate but the timing just seems so coincidental. Right before she came in I was searching for your card but somehow I’ve lost it like the clumsy person I am.”
The chuckle she lets out takes you by surprise. You’re not sure how you expected her to react to that but the pure look of amusement in her eyes is simply confusing.“I think I might have an idea of where that card ended up, my dear.”
“Really?”
“Yes, this morning I actually received a call from your friend Maia and she had quite a lot to say on your behalf.”
“Oh,” your heart nearly stops to flip upside down in your chest. Of course it was Maia! She must’ve grabbed it from your bag last night when you weren’t looking and holy crap you were seriously going to kill her.
“Please, you have nothing to worry about. It was a very endearing gesture on her behalf. She simply pointed out that my offer for dinner was causing you a bit of anxiety because I hadn’t been completely clear with my words. That’s an error on my account. And I know I certainly have a reputation that precedes me.” There’s something that vaguely resembles regret written across her face which makes you worry that she must’ve thought you were judging her. With the end of her last sentence you see her nervously press her lips together and skillfully avoids your gaze. This was exactly the opposite of what you wanted.
“I would love to have dinner with you,” you suddenly blurt out with all the enthusiasm you’d been holding in since the moment you first saw her. “The idea of simply getting to know you better excites me more than I can say. I was honestly in shock when you asked me to have dinner with you but… I just worried that maybe my feelings were one-sided.”
The soft look of elatedness on her face is almost enough to soothe your racing heart. But you’re still hanging on to every word as if the next might make or break you. “I know the circumstances under which we’ve run into each other twice now haven’t been very orthodox and I feel partially responsible for both times somehow. But I must admit that I’ve simply been charmed by you in a way that no one else has done before. When I first asked you to dinner I did want to use that opportunity to correctly apologize but that wasn’t all. As your friend Maia largely put it, I’d feel regretful if I let you get away so easily. Now if I may?” Feeling absolutely flustered by her confession it takes a moment longer for you to realize that she’s now holding out her hand for you across your desk and you take it expectantly. Just like the first time you’re suddenly rendered incapable of thinking about anything else besides how right it feels to have your smaller hand cradled in hers.
“Ah, I meant to grab your phone,” she clarifies with an amused look on her face and suddenly you feel like a complete idiot. Trying to pull your hand away, she stops you with her firm grip and instead brings it up to her perfectly painted red lips to plant a light kiss on the top. The contact of skin on skin feels overwhelming in the best way possible and you can’t do anything except smile. When she lets it go you dazedly reach for your phone and unlock it so that she can insert her contact information. She looks up from her typing with a raised eyebrow and asks, “Would this Saturday evening be agreeable for you?”
Your eager nodding brings out a satisfied smile on her face before your verbal confirmation. “Yes, Saturday would be very agreeable.”
A/N: I don't know whether or not I wanna yell at Daniela or Maia more 😳 But I guess these two are going on a date so whatever they did worked out? Again, I’m MCULesbian on AO3 and chapters 1-5 are already up on there! Stay safe y'all.
#Lady Dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#alcina x reader#alcina x oc#resident evil#resident evil village#Village
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