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starcrossedxwriter · 6 months

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Built for Love Part 12 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Our favs are back!! And trying to recover from everything. Enjoy!!

***

“You know you don’t gotta hide looking at it, right?” Michael leaned over to mutter in her ear as he rounded their island to the sink.

Charlotte’s gaze fell to the side as she bowed her head in slight embarrassment at being caught examining the perfect rock on her finger.

It had been days since the proposal and she was still unaccustomed to it, the weight of it on her finger and the weight of what it meant to them both. She had spent countless nights fantasizing of what a life with Michael could be and now her fantasies were coming true. She constantly found her eyes drawn to it throughout the day as she questioned whether the proposal was really real or merely a dream.

They had not told a soul about their engagement yet, not even their families. While they wanted to share the exciting news with everyone, they felt this was not something they wanted to share over the phone. And they planned to go home to LA at the end of the month for Easter weekend as Charlotte had some time off. They also knew once they told their families, there was no guarantee they would be able to keep it secret for long. And they were not ready to tell the world just yet. Charlotte was still healing and reeling from Shaun’s attack and not used to being the center of social media debates and conversation or a hot topic on talk shows. And they knew their engagement would only draw more attention to her and them that they did not want just yet.

Tomorrow would be her first day back at work, and really her first time leaving their house for more than a walk around their neighborhood. Throughout the entire day, Michael would have been lying if he said a significant part of him had not hoped she would wake up and realize she needed more time to recover. And while skillful makeup and the facade of a performer would earn her praise on social media and in the media for returning to normal so quickly, in private things were still far from normal.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “I feel crazy but I can’t take my eyes off it, it’s fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Michael’s face lit up at her praise. He had picked well. “I know, I’ve caught you staring at it nonstop for the last couple days.”

“Well you did good.” She stood and kissed him on the cheek before walking over toward the couch to grab the remote. “Wanna watch another episode of Housewives before we head to bed? We’re so far behind on this season,” she grumbled to herself as she turned on their tv.

“Sure but first, we need to talk.”

Charlotte groaned, those were words no person in a relationship ever wanted to hear. And she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. She and Michael rarely argued, she could count the number of them on one hand. However, she knew this one had been brewing slowly as her return to work drew closer. She was honestly surprised he let it go this long. Wishful thinking, she supposed, that he would not say anything at all.

“If it’s about what I think it’s about, then we already talked about it days ago and came to an agreement, Bakari. Hence the very scary former special forces white man that’s gonna play my shadow for months,” she mumbled in annoyance.

It was not that she did not understand the point of security, she did. But that did not stop her from resenting the fact that she needed it, this human barrier that sat her apart from the masses as if she were too important or too fragile. It felt unnecessary and ridiculous but acquiescing to this request was the only way Michael would agree to let go back to the theater so early. So her frustration seemed to double at the idea that he wanted to revisit this conversation after she already compromised.

“Well, I’d like to reopen the discussion.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she settled on the couch, her movements were still stiff, her body not fully healed but she felt well enough to perform. Unfortunately, her fiancée did not share her opinions on her healing process.

“I’m fine and I’m going back to work tomorrow. I agreed to have security at your insistence. There’s really nothing to discuss.”

“I disagree.” Michael’s arms were folded and his face stern as he perched on the arm of their sectional. “You’re still having nightmares and you’re still in pain. I mean can you even dance?”

Truth be told, he was shocked he was even having to fight her on this. He just knew she would get to the weekend and see how little her healing had progressed and ask for more time off. That she had taken his concerns for her well being and safety seriously and was going to change how she pushed herself to the limit. However, instead he found that she was dead set on it, rehearsing and preparing for work as if nothing was wrong. But in his opinion, everything was wrong.

While he would admit she was handling it better than he would have expected, she was still not ok. She was still in pain despite her attempts to hide it from him. She was far more jumpy than she ever was before. And aside from the night he proposed, she woke them both up with nightmares every single night. Some were marginally better than others but they were a reminder that while her physical injuries would heal in a linear fashion, her trauma would not. They were in for months of steps forward and steps backwards. And though he knew she could not realistically take months off, he wanted her to consider, at least, taking another week to get on stronger footing.

The engagement helped them both, provided some light and hope at the end of the tunnel and they both clung to it for dear life in their own ways. But he knew that was a fleeting feeling, the happiness and joy of the engagement would not be enough to overshadow the trauma and pain she felt forever, no matter how much she focused on that.

She sucked her teeth. “You know before you, I danced through a hell of a lot worse than a few bruises and a concussion. I’m fine.”

“That ain’t the sellin’ point you think it is. Your body needs rest. The doctors said you’re lucky he didn’t damage your vocal chords from choking you, you don’t need to be singing for 2 hours a night. Also you don’t even know what effect going back there will have on you.”

Charlotte scoffed. “One, my voice is fine. I practiced last night.” Though she wasn’t going to admit that it was extremely hard and painful to sing. “I’ll be fine! He what? Scared me a couple of times there? It’s not like he attacked me in the theater. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?? You almost dying isn’t a big deal??”

“You know what I mean! Look, I think I have a bit more experience dealing with PTSD than you do. I feel well enough to perform so I’m gonna. That’s that.”

“So I don’t even get a say? Get to give you my opinion at all?”

Charlotte crossed her arms like a petulant child, her annoyance at having this discussion again shutting down any opportunity for her to hear his side or perspective. In her opinion, the time for his opinions had passed. “Well, it’s my career, not yours. It’s my body, not yours. I am the victim of a stalking, sociopath, not you. Why would you get a say in it? I know we’re engaged but that doesn’t mean I’m not my own person anymore.”

“I know you’re your own person. But you also don’t get to make unilateral decisions, Charlotte! You making unilateral decisions is why we’re in this situation!”

Charlotte scoffed. “And there it is… if you want me to take your opinion seriously, then admit what’s really going on here. This isn’t about me o-or my injuries or any stupid shit like that. You know I can perform just fine. You don’t trust me to take care of myself, you’re pissed that I took away your opportunity to save me and now you don't want me out of your sight.”

“Well in my sight, he can’t fuckin’ try to kill you again.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, between the special forces nigga you forced me to hire and the venue security, I don’t see that happening! Also despite what you clearly think, I can take care of myself!”

Michael’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “You can take care of yourself? So that bruise on your side? On your face? Your concussion and stint in the hospital, were you just warming up during all those fights? Because I sure as fuck ain’t gonna forgot having to pull him off you while he tried to choke the life out of you any time soon! He’s out on bail and out in the world and I love you but no, you can’t defend yourself against him. You ain’t gonna act like I’m crazy for being worried.”

“‘I can’t defend myself??’ So you think I’m weak?” For some reason, that struck a nerve so deep in her that she felt herself quickly transitioning from annoyance and frustration to full blown rage.

“No that’s no-”

“Well that’s exactly what you just said! I’m weak and defenseless and need you to take care of me. I mean, is that what you really think of me? Because if so, why would you even want to date, let alone marry, someone you think so little of?”

“That’s not what I think!” He yelled, his frustration getting the better of him as he abruptly stood up from his seat and threw his hands in the air. He turned away from Charlotte to take a deep breath and collect his thoughts.

However, when he turned around, he felt his heart break slightly as he took in her form. He would take a hundred versions of her yelling at him over the petrified woman who sat before him now. Her entire body trembled with fear as she avoided his eyes and moved herself to the edge of the couch as if she was ready to escape at a moment’s notice. Her ragged breathes filled their living room as she tried to calm down.

Michael could not figure out what happened until he replayed the last 30 seconds in his own head, quickly realizing that she was fearful that he was going to strike her.

And these were the moments that made all of this so hard for him. This was not the first time in their relationship that something triggered her, but her reactions were so visceral now that they knocked the wind out of him. He hated himself for letting his anger get the best of him to the point that he forgot to prioritize her healing and health. He never wanted her to think he would ever do something to hurt her, never wanted her to think he was like Shaun in the slightest.

He desperately wanted to rush to her side and envelope her in a hug, assure her that he would never - no matter what - raise a hand to her. But he had enough experience with this to know that she had to choose to come to him, had to choose to trust that his touch was gentle and safe. That was not something he could force on her. So he steered himself to the cushion of the couch and sat down.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. You know I’d never hurt you. Just take a few deep breaths and when you’re ready to talk, let me know.”

Charlotte just nodded as she buried her face in her hands for a few moments. She repeated the same mantra she did after nightmares and when she was feeling like there was no safety or security anywhere for her. Her therapist had told her to make a list of everything and everyone who made her feel safe and the very short list had Michael at the top.

Michael is safe. Michael is home. Michael is safe. He doesn’t hurt you, he makes you feel protected and whole.

It was a small thing but it had become an anchor after nightmares or when memories flooded her mind. Michael was safe and he would never harm her. She would not claim to know everything but she certainly knew that. It took a few minutes as she repeated those words over and over under her breath, and her fingers twisted her engagement ring on her finger. Another coping mechanism she had turned to. That ring meant so much, representing the depths of his love for her. And that was another anchor to her reality, and a reminder that Shaun could invade her sleep and her mind but he could not take anything away from her if she did not let him.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she whispered. “I k-know you wouldn’t… I just…” she struggled to find the words to express the chaotic jumbled up mess that was her own mind. But now, she did not even care about the show anymore, part of her just wanted him to not be upset with her. “I d-don’t want you to be mad. I-If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. Ok? I’ll call Chris and I’ll stay.”

Michael immediately shook his head and moved to sit by her, unable to keep his distance. He tentatively touched her bare knee, rubbing it gently as she relaxed into his touch. “I’m sorry, Els. I’m not mad at you. And I don’t want you not to go just to appease me. I’m just… fuckin’ terrified. If you go back and something else happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself. And security or not, the only person I trust with your safety right now is me and I know I can’t be there every day to protect you. But here? I can protect you, I can…” he sighed. “I’m just having a hard time l-letting go.”

She wiped away a few falling tears. “I know… I get it. Going isn’t easy for me either,” she clarified. “I just… know I have to. I would happily stay in this house with you forever. But I know I can’t… I h-have to go and prove to the world and myself that he didn’t destroy me… that I’m not weak. I’m terrified he’ll be there o-or pop up somehow. But I might feel that way for a long time and I can’t stay here with you forever. That’s what he wants, power over us and our lives and I can’t give him that. But I can’t do that if the one person who knows me better than everyone else thinks I’m too weak to do it.”

“You’re right. You’re right. You’re strong and if you feel like you’re ready, I don’t get to argue with that. I’m sorry… this is just… harder than I thought it’d be.”

Charlotte shook her head and turned to him. “No, don’t apologize for being overprotective. You’re dealing with trauma just as much as I am. We got a bit caught up in the engagement and… planning for the future doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with what’s going on right now. I know it’s hard for you too.”

“Sorry… I don’t wanna be overbearing. I just want to keep you safe.”

She chuckled. “You’ve barely let me out of this apartment in a week… the overbearing ship has sailed. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. But I have to do this tomorrow, and I hope you can respect that.”

Michael leaned in and kissed her softly, cupping her face with his hand. He felt her slightly flinch beneath him as he accidentally grazed a healing bruise. However, she did not pull away and returned his kiss earnestly.

“They’ll go away,” she whispered against his lips, kissing his cheek as his eyes darkened. “I’ve gotten used to them.” It was as if her body was so used to it, the bruises and pain barely phased her.

“I’ll never get used to seeing bruises on you, baby.” He pushed her wild curls behind her ear. “You’re the strongest person I know, by the way. I don’t think you’re weak and you shouldn’t either. It takes so much strength to survive all you have.”

Charlotte felt her eyes go a bit teary. She did not know why the words mattered so much coming from him but they did. Perhaps, it was just the way she wanted him to see her and everything they were going through threatened that image of perfection and strength she always strived for, that image of deservedness she felt she had to maintain to keep him. She needed him to see her as the woman he would want to spend the rest of his life with, not a traumatized broken thing he had to put back together.

“Thank you for saying that.”

He opened his arms and she quickly settled into them, immediately feeling more at ease than she had before. He leaned back on the couch and turned the tv on to their mindless favorite show, the Real Housewives of Atlanta. It was mainly Charlotte’s guilty pleasure but Michael could not deny that it had sucked him in too.

“Thank you,” she whispered as they watched the show.

“For what?”

She smiled. “For caring enough about me and my health to be overbearing. I w-wouldn’t have survived all this without you.”

She shifted into his lap to kiss him deeply. However, before she could take it too far, he stopped her and broke their kiss.

“You have an early day tomorrow. Not tonight.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to retort but Michael’s attention had already shifted away from her and back to the antics of the housewives. She hoped the night of their engagement had not been some odd anomaly and that they were truly back on track. Sex was not the end all be all of their relationship but she knew how important it was to both of them. And it did not bode well to her that they had only been intimate once in a week, injuries or no injuries. But she also knew she was not up for another difficult conversation tonight and she knew that that was one she would most certainly lose so she merely settled against his chest to watch their show, tucking the information away for discussion later.

***

“I-I guess I should leave this here?” She mused, a sad expression on her face as she examined her ring. “I can’t wear it on stage.”

Michael raised an eyebrow as he studied her and the expression on her face. “You don’t gotta take it off if you don’t wanna.”

She shook her head. “Chris texted, the paparazzi and reporters are already at the theater so it’ll be all over the gossip sites before lunch if I wear it. It just feels weird to take it off.”

“You sure you gotta go this early?”

She nodded. “Yea I haven’t done the choreo or anything in almost a week. Gotta practice, make sure I can actually move fully and everything.” She glanced over to him and offered him a suggestive wink. “I could be persuaded to go a little later if you help me warm up.” She grabbed his sweater and pulled him in for a kiss.

He chuckled and kissed her. “You’re still injured.”

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “That wasn’t a problem the other night?”

“Well… we both had an emotional day and were caught up in the moment and shit. I’d feel better if we waited till you heal fully. Just like I’d feel better if you take it easy today.”

Saying no to her was easily the hardest thing Michael ever had to do. But after seeing her last night, seeing her genuinely afraid that he was going to hurt her, he could not risk doing anything that could trigger her again, at least not until he was sure she was healed emotionally and physically. It sucked and it would mean many cold showers in his future but it was for the best.

However, Charlotte was not a mind reader. All she felt was the cold slap of rejection from the man she loved. Charlotte found his response odd but she decided not to press it. She supposed the night of their engagement was just a heat of the moment sort of thing. This was, after all, not her most attractive state.

“I’ll be fine, Bakari.”

“I could come with you?”

Charlotte bit her lip as she stifled the immediate yes that bubbled to the surface. As she watched him yawn, she suddenly felt the weight of how much of a burden she was to him. All he had done was adjust his life to hers so she could heal. She just wanted to feel like his equal again and that meant she could not rely on him for everything.

“Thanks for the offer but I’m good. I’ll be fine.” She tried to make her voice sound sure and decisive, despite the doubt on his face. “Besides, let me worry about you for once. You need sleep without me screaming you awake, babe. You’re exhausted.”

Michael could not disagree more but something in her tone made him want to acquiesce to her words, despite his reservations. She was not wrong that he could use some true uninterrupted rest.

“You sure? I really don’t mind coming, nothing wrong with needing some extra support.”

Charlotte stopped herself from taking him up on the offer. “I know… But I got Adam and we’ll be just fine.”

“You sure?” He walked over and tilted her chin up to examine the bruising on her face.

She had not finished putting on her make up yet. They were looking better and better each day, though they were not healing fast enough for Michael’s liking. His eyes darkened slightly, Charlotte rubbing his bare arm.

“I’ll be back to my perfect flawless self soon, promise.” She pecked him on the nose. “And yes, I promise. I know you got shit to do.”

She walked back to their master bathroom to finish her routine. She took extra care to ensure every bruise and cut was adequately covered before she finished getting dressed. It was like riding a bike, remembering all the techniques to hide the damage he caused. By the time she was done, her skin looked unblemished enough to pass the test with any photographer.

As she walked around their bedroom, gathering all of her things for the show, she forced herself to think positively as images of Shaun flashed in her mind. She refused to give in to them though. He had taken so much, she refused to let him take this too.

“Got everything? Baby?” Michael called, pulling Charlotte out of her thoughts, putting his hand on the small of her back when she did not register him. .

She jumped slightly at his touch. She tried to play it off but she could tell he noticed in how his eyes softened slightly.

“Yea, yea sorry. Was in my own head. I’m ready. Adam’s been waiting for me downstairs, I should go.”

She kissed him on the cheek and threw him a soft smile before heading toward the door. She grabbed her keys and her bag as she moved through the living room. However, the ding of the elevator as it opened left her paralyzed, unable to force herself to cross the threshold out of her cocoon and into the real world again. A wave of panic washed over her at leaving for the first time alone and going back there, where he was. She tried to remind herself that he was not there but then all the nightmares of the last week came rushing back. She did not talk about them, particularly not to Michael, because she knew he would never have let her leave if she did. But she could not stop herself from thinking of the worst case scenario now.

Was she a complete fool for leaving her one and only safe space to give him another opportunity to hurt her? She got lucky twice but she had a sickening feeling Shaun would not error a third time if given the chance to finish the job. All week, had she been completely deluded for believing he would not be so foolish as to try to hurt her again? But when had he ever cared about restraining orders or police? The law had not once stopped him for exercising his control, power, and revenge over her when he really wanted to. Why would it now?

A voice rang out loudly in her head, encouraging her to turn right around and retreat into her bed with Michael where it was safe. But another voice demanded she put one foot in front of the other and face him head on again. She did not cower before, she could not now. It was all just too much, too scary, too much to consider for one person.

“Els, baby… Focus on me.”

She glanced up from the floor to find Michael standing in front of her, his face twisted up in concern. She did not understand what was wrong until she heard them, the shallow quick breaths that filled their quiet foyer that belonged to her.

“That’s it, breathe. You’re ok. Just got a little overwhelmed,” he whispered to her as he took slow deep breaths with her. He knew it was too much too fast. But when it came to her career, Charlotte was the first person he had ever met that was more stubborn than him.

He cradled her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, Charlotte taking deep breaths of his cologne and natural scent. His arms were tightly wrapped around her. She would have thought it would be suffocating during a panic attack but it was grounding to her, his touch, his soft whispers in her ear.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I-I can do it… I can do it.”

“Hey, look at me, honeybee.” He waited until her glossy eyes were on him before he said, “I know nothing I can say will stop you from going today. But it’s ok if you’re not ok yet, Charlotte. Being scared and honest about that doesn’t make you weak and it doesn’t mean he wins. It doesn’t tell the world you're powerless. It tells them you’re human. And it’s ok to need and want extra support. All you gotta do is ask, baby.” He kissed her ring finger, which was now bare as she had taken it off in their room. “You never gotta do anything alone again. Understand?”

Charlotte glanced up at the ceiling to stop the floodgates from opening. “I j-just feel like such a burden to you these last few days. You’ve done nothing b-but take care of me,” she whispered. “I need to go… I know I do. I have to go, Bakari. B-but I don’t think I c-can go without you. With you is the only place I f-feel safe right now.”

He kissed her temple. “You’ve never been and will never be a burden to me, love. Give me five minutes.” And with that, he disappeared back into their bedroom.

Charlotte sat down in one of their living room chairs and placed her head in her hands. She hated how quickly she caved. She could not even make it out of their house, let alone to work. She choked back a small sob, this was not how she saw her triumphant return going down. She felt ashamed of herself for not being stronger, for not holding it together better. She just wanted to be strong again, herself again, but that felt farther away than she would have liked.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Els, stop it. You’re going, that’s what matters… not what support you need to do it. This isn’t a bad thing.”

She wiped her tears away and took a deep breath before nodding. She was doing the best she could. And that would have to be enough.

“You’re right, you’re right. Let’s go.”

Michael interlocked his fingers with hers as he led her back to the elevator. With his presence by her side, stepping into the elevator and the ride down seemed for less jarring, though she could feel her heart racing slightly. She was thankful to find their street void of paparazzi and cameras when they exited.

Michael, a saint, used the car ride to distract her, sharing updates on Black Panther prep he was about to start. She listened intently as he explained the new diet and workout regime he would have to follow to get the build required for the character. He had no insight to the plot but he shared some directions he thought they might go in based on the comic lore. Listening to him talk about work for 20 minutes was the exact distraction she needed and she was thankful to him for it.

His musings carried them the entire 20 minute ride to the theater, Charlotte not surprised but annoyed to find a crowd of cameras and people right outside the entrance staff used.

“Shit. Is almost dying really that interesting to anyone??” She remarked to Michael as Adam asked them to pause while he studied the terrain. He had explained to them yesterday that he had already gone to the theater and done his usual recon. Charlotte could not help but roll her eyes at that. She was not the damn pope or Queen Charlotte herself… she was just Charlie.

“Well, being attacked on the opening night of your show is shocking so it’s newsworthy to someone.”

“It’s weird,” she decided. Charlotte liked that her star was a small one. She did not want or care for fame, never wanted to be one of those celebrities that called the paparazzi to follow their every move. She wanted to do what she loved but she also wanted a quiet life, one with some modicum of privacy.

“Ready when you are, Ms. Bennett.”

She took a deep breath, sliding her shades onto her face. Michael pressed his lips to her hand, which was still interlaced into his. He had only let her go once to get in the car.

“I’m right beside you.”

“I know you are,” she responded sweetly. “Ready.”

Adam jumped out of the car first and opened their door, Michael sliding out before Charlotte. She focused on Michael’s hand in hers as she ignored the loud calls and flashes of the cameras. The only thing that made her pause was a pack of fans that gathered on the opposite side, most of them young women and holding signs of support for her that made her heart swell. She originally had no intention of stopping or talking to anyone when she thought it was just reporters and express. But those girls added a detour to her journey, much to Adam and Michael’s annoyance.

All of them held bright smiles as she pushed her shades onto the top of her head. Many of them had Playbills from the show, clearly having gone in the last week and others just had pieces of paper and signs that they asked her to sign. She tried her best to sign every Playbill and paper shoved in her face and smile in the direction of every camera for every selfie.

Charlotte still found the idea that she had fans to be jarring. It was one aspect of her job that she was not used to at all, that people would camp out anywhere on a cold NYC morning for the chance to get a glimpse of her.

One of the girls standing there asked for a selfie and as she took it, she said, “Could you sign this? We,” she gestured at the girl next to her that carried such a striking resemblance that she had to have been her twin. “Wanted to get tickets for tonight too but…”

“The ones that were left were so expensive.” The other girl jumped in. “Guess we aren’t the only ones desperate to see you on stage.”

“We’re here visiting our parents and heading back to Yale tomorrow but figured we could try to get a glimpse of you,” the first girl admitted. “I… just want to say thank you.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For showing that leaving is hard but it's never the wrong choice. And that if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll find better,” she glanced at Michael who was quietly standing beside her.

Charlotte clenched her eyes shut to stop a tear from falling. This girl could not have been a day over 18 or 19.

“What’s your name?”

“Chantal and this is my sister, Courtney.”

She nodded. “Adam,” she called over to the stoic man who had been standing between her and the crowd on the other side of the walkway. “Can you bring Chantal and Courtney around the barrier and inside?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Both girls were the picture of shock as they made their way around the steel barriers and followed Charlotte and Michael inside. The young woman marched them around to the General Manager’s office upstairs, both girls utterly perplexed and confused.

“Charlie! It’s so good to have you back! Chris has been a pain in the ass without you,” Simon remarked as he stood up and wrapped her in a tight hug.

Charlotte laughed. “Thank you, and I can only imagine.” She flashed him her award-winning bright smile. “Your favorite actress needs a favor?”

“You name it.”

“Four front row seats for tonight for my friends here,” she gestured to the two girls, whose mouths had fallen open behind her.

“You got it. What are your names?”

Both girls stammered out their full government names while Simon tapped away at his computer.

“Done. Tickets’ll be waiting for you at will call tonight.”

“Thank you! You’re the best.” She retreated from his office before walking the girls back to the front to head outside.

“W-wait, that w-wasn’t a joke right?”

Charlotte laughed. “No, not a joke at all. I hope your parents enjoy musicals too. Either way, I hope you both enjoy the show tonight at least.”

Both girls squealed and threw themselves into her arms, causing Charlotte to laugh. She hugged them both before stepping back.

“Well, I gotta go rehearse. Make sure I can give y’all the best show possible.”

“Thank you SO much! You’re amazing and we love you.”

“No thanks necessary at all. See you tonight.” As the girls scurried off, Charlotte turned to stop them. “Chantal!”

The young girl turned around as Charlotte closed the space between them.

“You will… find better. The road might be long as fuck,” she admitted, causing the two girls to laugh. “And you’ll take a lot of steps back to take them forward. But it’s not about luck. It’s about knowing you deserve it and being… willing to accept it when it comes. I,” she glanced behind her at Michael who was waiting. “I struggled with that. But I deserved better and you do too, no matter what someone else made you believe.”

She reached into her purse and grabbed a pen and a spare piece of paper from her notebook. She jotted down her name and phone number and held it out to the young girl who seemed like her jaw might completely detach itself from her face.

“I know how hard it is… and lonely it is at first. If you need anything, don’t hesitate. And I mean that, truly.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed her hand before rushing back to her sister, both girls leaving with a bit more pep in their steps.

She walked back over to Michael who was sporting a look of pure shock.

“What?”

“I am just constantly in awe of you.” He pulled her into his arms and wrapped one arm around her waist. “How’d I get so lucky?��

She smiled. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one, baby.”

They shared a chaste but sweet kiss when they heard a couple wolf whistles. Charlotte laughed as she took in Chris and Marcus both staring at them.

“The queen is back! Thank the good lord,” Chris remarked as he closed the space between them. “Between this damn ulcer and the nightmares, Jason and my doctor will be sending you a fruit basket and flowers.”

“My understudy wasn’t that bad,” she remarked. The young woman was green to be sure but she was good.

“Yes but she is no you, my dear. You are one of one.”

“How are you feeling?” Marcus asked as he pulled her into a hug, he examined her with the same quizzical eye Michael often did which made her laugh.

“She’s fine. Been here five minutes and already giving away four of my most expensive seats in the house. Typical altruistic Charlie.” At Charlotte’s shocked face, Chris shrugged. “I know everything that happens round here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for them.”

He shook his head. “Don’t stress about it. We have a block of tickets we budget to give away for one reason or another.” He glanced at Michael beside her. “I see you brought our favorite eye candy back with you.”

Charlotte laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, leaving the house was harder than I thought it’d be so Michael offered to come hang out for a bit. Hope that’s ok?”

“Girl, whatever you need to get your ass back on that stage, I’m fine with. Rehearsal starts in 10.”

He waved at all of them before leaving Charlotte, Michael, Malcolm and her shadow alone.

“How are you? Really?”

While she adored Chris, Malcolm was who she was closest to in the show and was the only one who truly knew her.

“We’re taking it hour by hour,” she admitted. “And today started off rough but it’s turning around. I’m gonna be ok, I know that much.”

“That’s what we like to hear.”

They walked into the theater, the entire company giving Charlotte applause as she walked in. Michael took his seat as she got on stage and did a quick round of hugs to everyone. And then they jumped right into rehearsal.

Michael spent part of the time doing his own work, answering emails that he had neglected over the last week. He did not regret that but his inbox was abysmal. He knew Charlotte’s was exactly the same. She had talked to her manager once or twice but no work had been accomplished in a week.

Then he started reviewing the script for his upcoming project. He had been excited originally to play the role but now, he was merely annoyed because it meant he had to return to LA in late June. He did not want a renewal of their argument from the previous night but he knew there was absolutely no way he could convince Charlotte to cut her run short and return with him. And June was Tony’s season and nominated or not, Charlotte would never miss that. However, all of those reasons did not change the simple fact that Michael was fucking terrified.

This was the love of his life, his future wife, the future mother of his children. Would work ever be more important to him than her safety? And it was not that he did not trust Adam, after all he picked him. But Adam did not love her like he did, did not understand her like he did. Even though it was months away, leaving felt utterly and completely wrong now. And he could not shake the feeling that it was not only a bad idea, it was the worst mistake he could ever make. He knew he could not drop out but he toyed with the probability of getting them to push the filming back, even just a month or two. He decided he’d reach out to his manager and see if it was a possibility.

He found himself often distracted by Charlotte as she rehearsed. She was a bit stiff at first but she loosened up and fell back into the choreo with ease. This was truly her element, everyone on that stage looked to her for guidance, advice, and support. He could see why Chris was so determined to have her back as soon as possible. She was the glue.

In between rehearsal and the show, she did interviews that she had not had the chance to do after the premiere. Michael sat next to the young girls they met earlier and their parents and they were utterly in awe of her as she performed. Despite everything, she was better than she was opening night, perhaps because she felt she had more to prove. She left her heart and soul on that stage.

So much so that she quite literally fell asleep as soon as they got into the SUV to head home. She was utterly beat. She had held it together pretty well most of the day from Michael’s perspective, only having one panic attack when she went back to her dressing room for the first time.

She felt like the ghost of him loomed in the space in a weird way. So much so that she avoided the space until the last possible second and could not enter it alone. She questioned how she would do it every day when Malcolm offered to switch spaces with her. She objected at first, naturally, not wanting to feel like she needed accommodations from anyone. But Michael insisted and she could not deny that it eased some of her panic.

However, when they got home, she was fairly silent and seemed upset. Michael did not understand why, she had done exactly what she had wanted to today: she had proved he could not take this away from her.

“You were great today,” Michael offered as they settled into bed. “On all counts.”

She chuckled humorlessly. “I couldn’t even walk into my own dressing room, Bakari. Couldn’t leave this fuckin’ house without…” She shook her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “I saw him everywhere… like a fuckin’ ghost haunting me every second. And the only thing that stopped me from literally falling apart was being able to look over and see you. If I can’t keep it together on my own, then I can’t…” she clenched her eyes shut. “And then I come here and I try to sleep and he’s there too. J-Just… don’t get a fucking break.”

She frustratedly wiped a tear from her cheek and flipped onto her side to look away from him.

Michael sighed and shifted closer to her, spooning her. She tensed up at the unexpected touch before softening into him.

“I know today was hard. But Els, baby… you did it. You left the house, you got on stage, you got a new dressing room, you gave interviews and did everything you needed to do without skipping a beat. That’s not nothing. It’s ok to not be able to hold it together all by yourself. Lean on me, lean on Malcolm and Chris and your castmates to get through the day.”

“I don’t want special treatment… I don’t want people to see me as their traumatized coworker. I don’t wanna be the weak person he made me forever. It took me years to get over what he did the first time a-and I don’t have years. You aren’t gonna wait years, the world isn’t gonna wait years. I just… want to be ok again now.”

“Didn’t you tell that girl earlier that it would be a lot of steps back to go forward?”

She groaned, annoyed that he was throwing her own words back at her.

“Yes but-“

“No buts. You gotta give yourself some grace, baby. You’re gonna have good days when you feel invincible and you’re gonna have days when it feels like you can’t hold it together on your own. And you don’t have to. You’re not broken,” he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “You never were and you certainly aren’t now. It’s gonna be a long road but you aren’t walkin’ it alone.”

“I just…” her words failed her but something in her told her to put on a brave face. She knew she was not walking it alone but she also knew she could not keep bearing all her weight on MIchael. She had to start carrying some of it on her own. Even if he currently felt like she was not a burden, there was no telling how long that feeling would last.

So she nodded and turned over to face him. “You’re right. It was a good first step and tomorrow’ll be even better. Thanks for today.”

“Of course. I can come with you tomorrow too?” he offered.

Charlotte chucked. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I know spending all day in that theater is not fun.”

Michael shrugged. “Being there for you is fun. I insist.”

“Bu-” she started to say when Michael pulled her into his chest and kissed her on the forehead, cutting her off.

“Get some rest. Night, baby.”

***

“So how are you, Charlie? Really?” Michael’s mom called down the long dining room table as they all enjoyed Easter Sunday dinner.

She was thankful to have a couple days off so she and Michael returned to LA to visit family and escape New York for a bit. Their trip, which had been intended to be an adventure for the pair, had turned into anything but. And there was a safety to returning home, to Michael’s house and to his bed, even if it was only for a long weekend.

Given that her nieces and nephews were all on Spring Break, it was the perfect time to get the families together. So it was the first time her dad, sister and CJ were meeting Michael’s family. The evening had been perfect so far, she decided, both groups blending as if they were destined to be family.

“I’m ok… really,” she emphasized at the skeptical glances from everyone at the table, including her fiance. “He’s been out on bail, hasn’t tried anything. He’ll go to prison and that’ll be the end of it,” she assured them. She would never admit it out loud, particularly not within earshot of Michael, but those words were merely for their benefit. Not even 50% of her mind actually believed it. Shaun proved that he was not above biding his time for as long as it took. She would be a fool to believe his obsession with her was over simply because he got caught. But that was not a truth or fear she was in a place to admit to anyone.

“You’re still havin’ nightmares though…” Michael offered quietly.

Charlotte cut her eyes toward him with a quick glare that most of the table, thankfully, did not see. It silently said “what the fuck?” to which he merely shrugged as if he did not see the problem with detailing her weaknesses to her entire family.

It’s the truth, his eyes seemed to shoot back at her.

“Are you ok?”

“Do you need to increase your therapy sessions?”

Charlotte immediately groaned internally, overwhelmed by the barrage of questions and concerns. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid.

“Guys, guys… calm down. Michael is exaggerating,” she answered with a reassuring and calming smile. “I still have nightmares but they are far less than they were at first. It’s progress, but it’s slow. And it’s just been a few weeks. It’s not like last time,” she promised, her eyes trained on Jackson who was most invested in her recovery, aside from Michael. He called her damn near every day twice a day.

“Well, as long as you feel like you’re getting better.”

“I am, really.”

“You gonna be ok when Michael comes back this way for his movie this summer?”

Charlotte nodded immediately, though she was dreading it inside. However, that was not something she could admit either. “Yea it’s gon-“

“I actually asked them if we could push filming back,” Michael interrupted. “To the fall when Els’ run is over. Just waiting to hear what they say.”

Charlotte glanced up from her plate in surprise, that was the first she had heard of this. “What? When did you do that? Why did you do that?”

“I called my agent and asked her to look into it Thursday before we left New York. Just figured a family emergency and needin’ to be there for you was hard to argue with.”

Charlotte could not stop the confusion and anger that bubbled under the surface at him. She understood the intention behind his gesture but she did not ask him to do that and to be frank, she did not want it. It was not that she wanted to be alone in New York but she also had worked so hard in the last few weeks to stop burdening him, to heal and move forward. But this was the literal opposite of that.

“But the summer is several months away. It’ll hardly be an emergency by then. I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “I disagree.”

“You dis-” she started to say when Jackson interrupted, her sweet but slightly oblivious brother not picking up on the mounting tension between the couple.

“I think it’s a good thing. Not like you don’t need the extra protection, it’s better this way, Charlie.”

“Better for who?” She mumbled under her breath before stabbing her piece of ham with her fork.

“The real question is when are you gonna be free for the bachelorette party?” Jazzmine asked from across the table with a smile. “Lo and I are already starting to plan.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes as everyone smirked. “Nothing crazy, Jazz… please. I don’t know what time I’m gonna have off so we could legit just get the girls together for a fun weekend in New York. Have the wild NYC nights we didn’t get to have back in the old days,” she teased.

Lo’s face lit up as she turned to Jazz. “Oh that would be so much fun. I’ll do some research on restaurants and Jazz, can you find us some lounges that we can go out to? Maybe in like July?”

“You sure you wanna do New York?” Michael asked quietly, pulling Charlotte’s attention away from her girlfriends as they chatted away about her party.

“Yea, it’s lowkey and easy. Inexpensive for everyone to get to and everything. Don’t need a big fuss. Why?”

Michael shifted in his seat uncomfortably, Charlotte could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he thought of the right words to say whatever was on his mind.

“Just don’t think it’s safe for you to be going out to clubs and lounges late like that. You know… least not until after his trial.” His voice was low as to not draw attention to the couple. However, before she could respond, he glanced up at Lauren and Jazz and said, “Plan somethin’ outside the US. My treat, of course. Go wild.”

“God, I love him,” Jazz not-so-quietly muttered under her breath causing the entire table to laugh, except Charlotte. “You sure you wanna marry him, girl? Cause I’ll fight you for him.”

Charlotte forced a light chuckle from her lips before returning to her food, frustration coursing through her body like a roaring river. She was virtually silent as their families interacted for the rest of the night. She barely spoke, only offering one or two words to Michael’s nonstop chatter when they returned to their bedroom to get ready for bed.

She wanted to say something to him but she did not know how, nor was she sure which issue to tackle first because for the first time in their relationship, there were several.

They were still them in the ways that mattered most, still loving and caring and invested in their relationship. But something, or rather several somethings, were simply off track and causing fissures to grow between them. And tonight, she realized that they had gotten too big to ignore any longer.

Originally, she had thought the lack of physical intimacy was their most pressing issue. Gone were the casual touches and sexual playfulness that they developed in their relationship. They had sex one time since their engagement and it was their worst time together by far. Michael spent the entire time checking in and asking her if she was ok or needed him to stop so much so that Charlotte could not even get into the moment or enjoy the experience. As the incident got further in their rearview, she tried to initiate a couple more times but he always found an excuse so finally, she stopped asking altogether.

And that was concerning in and of itself, the crumpling of the one area of their relationship that had always been strong. But dinner proved that they were also having serious communication issues that she had been actively ignoring. It was so unlike Michael to make such a giant career decision without consulting her first, without taking into account her own feelings and opinions about her recovery.

Was she completely healed? Were things perfect? Definitely not. But was she moving in the right direction? Was she doing the best she could? Yes and still, she felt like it was not enough to get her fiance to stop treating her like the broken woman he found in that bathroom, battered, bruised and half dead. Even telling her she could not go out in New York with her friends was so on brand for him at the present moment but so unlike anything she was used to from him. And that had not been the first time. They got invited to parties and events and the like in New York and Michael found excuse after excuse for them not to go. She blamed herself for not being more vocal about wanting to go out and be who they used to be so she put all of her efforts into getting better to prove she could handle it, prove she was still the woman he wanted. However, nothing seemed to work. She wanted to move on with their lives and his mind was firmly stuck on who she was on March 1.

And that made her doubt whether they would. All the things Michael once valued in her, he clearly did not see anymore… why else would he treat her so differently?

“You ok? Want me to make you some tea? Anything hurt?” Michael asked as they got ready for bed.

Their nighttime routine was typically filled with laughter and conversation but tonight, Charlotte was stuck in her own head, wrestling with why her relationship seemed to be falling apart when they were both so clearly trying their hardest to keep it together.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” He sighed, misreading her sour attitude for something else. “I don’t know why you feel the need to pretend like you’re ok with me when you aren’t. It’s just been a few weeks, Els. No one but you expects you to be ok.”

Charlotte’s knuckles could’ve turned white at the way she gripped the edge of their counter in anger. “You know not every negative emotion I feel is about Shaun, right? Like I’m allowed to just be mad and annoyed at you every once in a while?”

Michael’s eyes grew wide. “Mad at me?? What did I do?”

“How about the fact that you made this major decision and didn’t tell me?”

“What major decision??”

Charlotte threw her hands up in the air. “Moving your movie schedule, Michael!”

Michael could tell she was legitimately upset given that she used his first name and not Bakari or another pet name. However, for the life of him, he could not understand the issue.

“That’s not a big deal tho. I just asked them to push back a couple months.”

“That is a big deal! Asking for an entire movie to be rearranged so you can play the fucking overseer.”

“That’s not fair. I was tryin’ to help you.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Help me? Oh and is flashing your wallet around to convince my friends to plan a different party than the one I want helping me too??”

Michael walked out of their bathroom, the two facing off at the foot of the bed.

“You aren’t gonna get fuckin’ mad at me for telling you shit is unsafe. No, you don’t need to be fuckin’ around in the middle of the night drunk in New York while he’s still out there. You can be mad all you want.”

Michael felt no shame or guilt for drawing the line in the sand somewhere. He saw no issue in keeping Charlotte at home. She went to work, they occasionally went to dinner - though he preferred just ordering them take out these days - and that was virtually it. He went to the theater with her almost every day, only leaving around show time and returning with the car to pick her up. It was a sacrifice to be sure. But what did it matter if she was safe and had extra layers of protection?

“If you had your way, I’d never leave our fucking apartment!” She hurled at him. “You wanna help me? Stop treating me like a fragile doll that’ll break if you aren’t around. Stop… stop denying me affection and love and just admit the truth!”

“What truth??”

“You don’t want me anymore!” Charlotte exploded, her own insecurities compounded by her perceptions of her fiancé’s behavior. “You proposed and you regret it and you don’t want me.”

“That’s the farthest thing from the truth in this world, Charlotte.”

She closed the space between them as she shouted. “Then why don’t you touch me like you used to? Why don’t you make love to me or fuck me or literally anything anymore? Our relationship is void of physical intimacy that I know both of us need. So tell me. What other reason could it be other than you can’t get the image of what he did out of your head and I’m not the woman you thought I was o-or want anymore? Tell me!”

Michael’s mouth opened and closed several times, unsure of what exactly to say. He had never seen her so upset, particularly directed at him, over something that was simply not true. However, despite the anger she displayed, something stopped him from telling her the truth. It was foolish to not trust her with his own fears and vulnerabilities but it was unfair to make her healing about him.

“I promise you it’s not because I don’t want you.”

Charlotte stared at him, waiting for something… anything to signal to her what the true reason was. But he gave her nothing.

Charlotte let out a breath that sounded like a cold laugh before nodding and stalking over to her side of the bed to grab her pillow and favorite blanket, one that Michael used often and carried his scent.

“I don’t want promises, Michael. I want you to be honest. And until you are ready to admit whatever has you treating me like a patient instead of your future wire, I’ll be in the guest room.” She paused. “Here and in New York.”

“You shouldn’t sleep alone, Charlotte.”

“I dealt with nightmares before you, Michael and I can deal with them now. If you really want to help me,” she clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears that welled in them, tears that she knew would not help her case. She was just so tired, tired of everyone in her life and in the media and everywhere she turned fawning over her. She just wanted someone to treat her like nothing had changed and she had hoped that would be Michael. But he could not do it either. “Then start treating me like someone you believe is actually capable of healing. Cause right now, all you treat me like is a woman who's too broken to be put back together again. And if that’s all you see when you look at me, we aren’t gonna make it.”

And with that, she raced out of their bedroom and down the hallway toward one of the guest rooms, leaving Michael alone. He felt as if he had whiplash, the argument happening so fast over something he felt was so insignificant, he could not fully understand what to do.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He swung it open to find his father standing in the hallway, two glasses of scotch in his hands.

“Heard some raised voices. You good, son?”

“Not really,” he muttered as he took the drink out of his dad’s hand and ushered him inside.

“Feel like I’m tryin’ to do right by Els, give her what she needs and she’s actin’ like it’s too much… or not enough of the right thing… or I dunno. We’ve never,” he flopped down on the edge of their bed, his hand rubbing his head. “We’ve never been like this before.”

Michael Sr sat down in the arm chair across from his son. “Well, you ain’t been together long enough to be like much. I think you two were made for each other, don’t get me wrong. But marriage ain’t easy ‘n you two are gonna hit more than a couple rough patches where it seems like it just ain’t workin’. And that’s to be expected given what you both went through. You need to talk.”

“I try to talk to her, pops. Get her to tell me what she's feelin’, how she’s doin’. She just wants to act like everything’s fine when I know it isn’t. I mean, you take care of ma… her health. She doesn’t fault you for being protective. What am I doing wrong right now?”

His father let out a low chuckle before taking a long sip of his drink. “Bold to assume your momma didn’t cuss me out more than once too. I raised you ‘n your brother the way I was raised. To be a provider, protector, fixer. And I did the same thing you’re doin’ when your momma first started havin’ health issues. Constantly checkin’ in, assuming I knew what she needed or how she was feelin’ better than she did. And just doin’ it cause I thought I knew best. And all I was really doin’ is creating resentment.”

“What you mean?”

“I mean… your mom didn’t and still doesn’t want a doctor, she has a doctor. She didn’t need a therapist. She wanted her husband, a safe spot to land ‘n know I was gonna treat her like her when the days were good ‘n jump in ‘n pull the extra weight on the bad days. But that I was still gonna let her be her, not treat her like a sick person who can’t take care of herself. But I felt so outta control as a protector and fixer that I went overboard tryin’ to fix somethin’ that couldn’t be. Took a lot of counseling to get outta that.”

Michael raised his eyebrow in shock. His parents were not of a generation that typically had a positive outlook on therapists and counseling. He also would have never thought their marriage ever required it. His parents’ marriage, in his mind, was the blueprint.

“Really?”

“Yea… I mean it was different than what you kids do now with licensed therapists. But yea, we went to counseling with our pastor ‘n it helped. Helped both of us admit what we needed, helped us find common ground. N now, I protect your mother while respecting her boundaries. I know you. You’re tryin’ to fix something that only Charlotte and time can fix. And if you hold on too tight, try to fix too much cause you’re afraid of losing her, you’re just gonna lose her in a different way. This is your first taste of marriage, son. Shit ain’t easy but it’s worth it.”

His dad stood up and patted him on the shoulder before walking toward the door. However, as he opened it, he stopped and turned.

“Another piece of hard-earned advice?” Michael nodded for him to continue. “You just learned how short life is, how precious every minute is. You don’t go to bed alone or angry ever. You ain’t gotta fix it tonight, you ain’t even gotta talk about it tonight. But don’t let her fall asleep down that hall thinkin’ you don’t wanna fix whatever this is. Understand?”

“Yea I gotchu. Thanks pops.”

“Anytime, son.”

Michael downed the rest of his drink before grabbing his own pillow and walking down the hallway to the guest room he knew Charlotte would be in. The door was not closed all the way so he peeked through the crack for a moment, studying her form which was curled into a tight ball in the middle of the bed. Her light sniffles reached his ears and immediately propelled him forward.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called, her voice broken and small. She forced herself into a seated position, wiping her tear-stained cheeks as she sat up.

They stared at each other expectantly for a few moments before Michael stepped forward.

“I know I’ve been… distant in a lot of ways the last few weeks. And probably overbearing and controlling, which isn’t what I want you to feel. And I’m sorry for that. And if I had the right words to explain why, I would. But I don’t. I don’t know what this feeling is o-or how to describe it to you. And I can assure you it’s not because I don’t want you. I’ll always want you. But I know this isn’t what you need and this isn’t the relationship I want for us. I know you’re already working with your therapist but maybe we can try couple’s counseling? For a couple weeks? Maybe we can get back on track sooner rather than later.”

“Really?” she asked. Michael had never expressed anti-therapist sentiments and supported her journey wholeheartedly but he always said he never considered going himself, never thought he would need one. “I thought about suggesting it for us… after everything. I just figured you wouldn’t be into it.”

Michael meandered over to her side of the bed and sat down, his hand rubbing her leg.

“I’m into whatever you and I need to do to get back on the same page. I love you and I want you and I know I haven’t been myself lately,” he admitted. “But I hear you and I’m willing to figure it out so I can support you how you need me to.”

“Thank you… for that. And I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I just… I just want to be me again. I want us again,” she mumbled, bringing her knees to her chest.

“I know. And we’ll get there. I promise. I’m in it for the long haul, even if we gotta go to so many sessions we fund a beach house for your therapist.”

Charlotte let out a cackling laugh. “I mean I’ve definitely already funded her beach house… maybe a like cabin in the woods next… she loves that type of stuff.” Charlotte rolled her eyes with a chuckle before her face returned to it’s more solemn expression. She stared at him for a few minutes before grabbing her pillow. “Will it completely ruin my street cred next argument if I come back to our room? This bed sucks,” she muttered. It was harder than their bed and more uncomfortable but the reality was, she had no interest in sleeping alone even if she was still upset.

Michael kissed her on the forehead and gestured toward the door. “A very small ding in street cred,” he joked. “But,” he lifted up his own pillow. “I lose some too for coming in here like a lost damn puppy.” He joked, both of them laughing.

“God, we can’t even do one night mad at each other right.”

“I think that’s a good sign,” Michael remarked. “Think that means we’re gonna be just fine.”

“Yea… we will be.”

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @injerafiend @ari17

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you think and how therapy's gonna go for our favs. This'll be the last update till December!

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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meili-sheep · 2 months

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Genuinely disgusted by how people keep victim blaming Diluc, saying Diluc is the source of all of kaeya's problems. And some of the people slandering Diluc are Diluc fans themselves!

Don't get me started on the "jokes" this fandom writes about him. I personally don't think physical violence or 'characters getting blamed for something they didn't do' are funny jokes.

I'm so tired.

Wish people would realise how shitty of a person kaeya is. It doesn't help that Genshin rewrote kaeya to make him likeable.

(Kaeya and collei are friendly with each other, Kaeya babysitting klee when she already has albedo)

Sorry for rambling. I'm sick of how terribly Diluc is getting treated. And I am avoiding most of the fandom, but I still end up running into these people.

Honestly, like Diluc low-key has been getting shafted for a while. In the fandom and in canon.

And the only reason I think that he's been kept in Mihoyo's basement is because his lore is just so end game heavy. So that's why he hasn't popped up again. I think Mihoyo realized that the traveler could just ask Diluc shit, and he'd be able to solve like 70% of their problems.

As for the fandom. I personally am both fascinated by fandom as a method of looking at people's social interaction and as a method of studying their interruptions of media in a creative way. But also holy cow does it suck to be in here sometimes. And I feel I am desensitized to people's shitty takes on Kaeya and Diluc. Partly because well. I'm a Jason Todd fan, so I've been having the shit beating out of me since like 2014 (when I got into superhero comics). And I do see a lot of parallels between fan interruptions, Bruce's relationship with Jason and Kaeya and Diluc. Like Bruce has deeply wronged Jason. And I'm not talking Under the Red Hood, I'm like talking RHatO #25 and whatever the hell was happening in Gotham War (I'm honestly trying to forget that). And so has Kaeya. Like Man is not that stupid, his decision to tell Diluc that was entirely selfish. You have to have like no emotional intelligence to do what Kaeya did. And Kaeya had consistently proven he does have that. He had a great moment of weakness and now continues to be too weak to actually apologize. He's also dense in a way I'm not a fan of. Because if you really think he's gonna be a spy and betray Mondstadt I would ask you to take a literature course to expand your critical thinking and analytical skills. Because it would make no sense. Like he might for like half a second, but then he's gonna turn around.

Anyway. If you want a piece of advice, the only advice I can give you is to not engage and let it roll off your back. You're welcome to come here and bitch if you want. As I am the Hate Crepus corner. And I'd say I'd warmed up the Kaeya but honesty I think I've just warm up to how *I* write him which is different.

On a positive note, I'm working on a theory that Jason Todd and Diluc Ragnvindr are Lesbian Wraith characters. No, I will not explain at this time.

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc #maybe i just like character that like the punching bag of fandom #and In Jason's case canon #My mans gets no break

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0rb0t · 1 year

Text

Don't mind me, just talking about Shadow as being on the autistic spectrum, and how his portrayal in the games and anime (before 2010s era) reflected this even if it was never outright stated.

(TIME FOR A CHARACTER ANALYSIS ABOUT SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG)

When I was in high school, I struggled a lot in social situations, I'd go completely stiff and just watch people. I had a "resting bitch face", I never really could have conversations and seemed to just fixate on things. I'd make observations that irritated people. I'd ask "why" a lot. (Asking why or even asking 'obvious' questions seemed to make people think I was questioning their judgment, or that I was challenging them. But no, I just didn't understand and wanted clarification. I still run into this a lot and I wish people would stop assuming I have ulterior motives. I just wanna understand stuff better cause it doesn't connect for me. Even if it seems obvious. I'm the genius that asked my mom why she was crying at her dad's funeral when I was 11. It's not that I didn't understand why Grandpa was gone, I knew he passed away, but it hadn't really landed for me, and my brain registered my mom's sadness before it registered the why.)

I didn't like small talk (still don't) and would rather every interaction have a specific purpose. You'd never catch me at a party and I didn't think drinking or drugs looked fun or interesting. The act of rebelling didn't interest me either. The few interests I did have were something I'd always go back to, and I couldn't function without them. (For me, drawing has always been a huge part of my life and if I didn't have a pencil or pen and paper, then I couldn't hear. I know, very weird. If I were doodling or just even had my sketchbook open, I could study a lot easier. In High school, my teachers started telling me to put the sketchbook away, and my grades plummeted because my attention did, too. Trying to tell them just kind of led to the same old "well everyone else can't doodle so you can't either". I wasn't in any of the special ed stuff because I guess I masked too well.)

Sonic 06 and Sonic X have the same characterization for Shadow, especially in Japanese, and I think that's honestly the best he'd ever been-- he's quiet, he's reserved, he observes and he doesn't like to "waste time". Not because he's edgy, not because he's a jerk or too serious, but because he struggles in social situations and he's more introverted. He doesn't want to be the centre of attention, he doesn't enjoy any of that. Shadow also behaves like an adult, and I'm sure a ton of us on the spectrum have heard that before, that we're very mature for our age. In reality, we can't relate with our peers and have very fixated interests that don't really expand to other things. Limited interests and we just wanna do stuff tied to that. We know so much about that one thing or those things, but those things won't get you ahead in school. Unless you're LUCKY and your fixation is math, oy vey! (My fixation was etymology. I loved learning and knowing where words came from. Useful for 2 seconds in English class, quickly loses its usefulness in a skill-oriented world.)

I don't even think he's naturally boastful, at least he wasn't since SA2 (when he was an antagonist), but Sonic brings out a competitive side in him. Sonic brings out the childhood-self that he lost to trauma and being sealed away. Shadow never got to be a normal kid/adult. He has always had expectations placed on him. I think Sonic really brings out a side of him that even surprises himself. It's why he will even say very often "What am I doing?" or "This is such a waste of time!" but he won't STOP… Because he's having fun and doesn't know how to describe his own feelings. Shadow's the type who'll say "I'm fine" no matter what state he's in when you ask if he's okay. My spouse is like this actually-- I can often tell when he's feeling down, but he doesn't know how to describe emotions beyond functional things like "i'm healthy" or "i'm unhealthy", so he'll say he's fine even if he's having a melancholy day. I struggle with understanding my emotional responses, but not necessarily identifying them. A lot of people on the spectrum do struggle with identifying their emotions beyond empirical things. "Do I feel sick? No? then I'm fine" Shadow is exactly like this. And because his expression is so neutral, sometimes intense, he gets mistaken as being angry or too serious. In reality, he's just standing there. He's not gonna expend energy smiling when he's got nothing to smile about. Why force yourself to emote for people? Especially if it feels unnatural.

Another thing about Shadow being autistic is if he's got nothing to say, then he won't say it. If he wants to leave, he'll leave. Good luck stopping him! But for many actual people it's not an option to leave. We can't just teleport out or skate at lightning speeds like he can, so we have to just sit there and do little coping or self soothing methods to keep ourselves in the moment and calm. We don't often see Shadow stimming in traditionally understood ways, like lip biting or rubbing his arms or fidgeting with his fingers-- but he often stands with his arms crossed. This CAN BE a stim. Feeling the weight of your arms on top of each other, it allows for you to be aware of your own body. I fold my arms a lot in public, because I'm usually playing with the hem of my sleeves, or I'm rubbing my arms or squeezing them. Shadow doesn't seem to do any of that but he's rarely seen without his arms folded.

When his arms aren't folded, he stands so still and just stares at people. He looks completely out of his element. He doesn't seem to have a relaxed stance--until the anime, where he's shown standing with his hand on his hip. Rouge also does this, leading to the popular headcanons that Shadow is unintentionally imitating Rouge-- his masking leads him to identify the most 'normal' person in the room and copy their behavior in order to blend in better. Unfortunately it rarely, in my experience, leads to people NOT thinking I'm weird. Sometimes I'll even start imitating speech patterns or accents and BOY. I don't even realize I'm doing it until it HAPPENS. So embarrassing. But Shadow absolutely imitates everyone around him. We can see him do this even as far back as Sonic Heroes--that scene where he's nodding or shaking his head to whatever Rouge is saying. The scene where Sonic starts getting competitive and Shadow starts kind of imitating his posture and his way of speaking to become competitive with them-- I don't even think he realizes he's doing it. But it also makes sense with his NAME.

His name is Shadow. I think of Peter Pan, where Peter's Shadow can sometimes get away from him. Usually it does everything he does, but sometimes it gets away and does its own things, and Peter has to catch it. Wendy sews the shadow back on in Hook. I think Shadow's name is referencing that as well, that just like a shadow, he mimics those around him. He's watching over them, but also copying them. Learning to blend in.

Another moment I adore is in SA2 (and Sonic X) when Amy Rose hugs him from behind. According to the 2010s era and early IDW, you'd have expected Shadow to push her away or yell DONT TOUCH ME or whatever. But no, he actually just goes REALLY RIGID and doesn't even say anything. It isn't until Amy realizes her mistake that Shadow turns around to look at her, smiling like 'What are you doing???' But in Sonic X, they changed this scene further into autistic territory--

Shadow doesn't even TURN to her. He goes rigid, yes, and his eyes widen and he just stands there looking towards the audience like 8| He's completely OUT OF HIS ELEMENT. He prepared for the mission, NOT to deal with random people HUGGING HIM. He's probably not been hugged since Maria over 50 years ago. We don't even know if Maria hugged him much because Shadow has always seemed pretty touch-averse. I love GIVING hugs and I love receiving hugs but only from people I'm REALLY close to. I don't even like getting hugs from extended family. My spouse? VERY touch averse. He'll get hugs from me but hugging and touch are just not his thing. Shadow is not a huggy person, but he does tend to hold hands.

We know he grabbed and held Maria's hand, running with her-- but we never actually saw that until Sonic X (2003) he can be seen running with her away from the military, and he's holding her hand as he leads her. In Shadow the Hedgehog, Maria often grabs Shadow's hand when telling him things. This is also a grounding method to bring the person into the moment. For me, I feel like I can focus better on what my spouse is saying to me when he holds my hand and it's crowded or busy. Even in our home, if he wants to tell me something, I recommend that he hold my hand or touch my arm so I can focus on him better. This happens with Shadow.

Sonic doesn't tend to hold peoples' hands. In Sonic X he usually just picks people up, but we do see him grab Elise's arm in 06 and run with her. But holding hands? Not really his thing! Shadow does do it more often though. In Sonic X S3, in the episode, Molly's Dream, Shadow's immediate way of leading Molly away from danger is to grab and hold her hand. He even keeps holding her hand until she lets go. It speaks to me the sort of childlike behavior he may still be exhibiting, but not that I'm trying to say that autistic people are more like children. From my experience on the spectrum, I am more childish than my peers. I still react like a kid might to things, and I don't really think like an adult is expected to. I am mentally behind my peers as well, I think my emotional maturity is lower? But it's hard to measure that without a doctor. It's not just about laughing at fart jokes or knowing to pay bills, it's like, how I problem solve is more creatively aligned with kids than it is adults. This is both great and terrible, depending on the situation. A situation that requires math and stuff cannot be solved my way. A situation that involves encouraging kids to try again or be nice to each other, well it's very useful because I can communicate with them on their level (I was a teacher in South Korea for over half a decade, my brain was great for being a teacher but not great for other things).

I think Shadow really gets misread as a mean guy a lot, but he really isn't. I also don't really enjoy the headcanons that imagine him as very outgoing and whimsical when he was on the ARK, and I especially don't like headcanons that infantilize him-- I really don't like headcanons where people infantilize autistic people. We've seen Shadow when he loses his memories a few times. In Heroes, but also in S3 of Sonic X-- his personality is still the same. He's still reserved, he's still quiet, he still struggles in social situations and prefers getting to the point rather than dilly-dallying. I'd argue that he was exactly like that before the incident on the ARK, too. It's just that the incident caused his inner peace to be destroyed. His precious person, Maria, was no longer around and he lost everything all at once. He doubled down on the one thing that made sense: Revenge. But even after all of that was sorted out, he's not gonna just magically be a different person. He's still reserved, he's still serious, he's still "get to the point". If he played FFXIV, he'd only focus on main quests, and never do side quests. He'd never spend money on cosmetics, probably. He's likely a person who values gameplay over story. If the game is broken or the mechanics aren't utilized well, that's probably more what he'd be fixated on than whether the story was good or not. He'd skip through dialogue because he reads fast, even if the dialogue is voiced (my spouse does this and it drives me nuts. SHADOW I BEG OF YOU PLEASE DO IT FOR ME, DISABLE THE VOICE ACTING IN OPTIONS SO I STOP HEARING THE FIRST UTTERANCE OF A WORD EVERY TIME U MASH THROUGH THE DIALOGUE)

Trauma affects people in all kinds of ways. I don't think all autistic people are like Shadow, because autism is a spectrum and no two people present exactly the same, although there will be similarities. Shadow's trauma happened at a time where he barely knew himself already, so that's why it was so easy for him to fixate on revenge, and then he'd be content with dying afterwards because he figured he had nothing left to live for. Finding out he was wrong was the best thing that could have happened to him.

I was really saddened when SEGA decided he was an edgelord who hated everything and had no friends because that's such a horrible read of this nuanced character. In my personal headcanons for Shadow, he's actually very into plants and flowers, because Maria loved the planet so much. And eventually he learns to love the planet because of nature. Shadow's never going to be a people person, in fact he probably still doesn't care much for people as a whole, but that doesn't mean he won't step up when they need his help. Which is why his line in Sonic 06 is still so poignant. "If the world chooses to become my enemy, then I'll fight like I always have." Basically, it really doesn't matter, I've made my choice, I know who I am now and I get to make those decisions. No one else will shake the foundations of who I am.

And because he knows who he is, he doesn't feel the need to repeat it and boast about himself. He's confident, not arrogant. He can be smug and competitive, but that's playfulness, not cruelty. He's quiet and may just straight up walk away while someone is mid-sentence, but that's not because he's evil or intentionally being a jerk-- it's just how he is. He needs to work on it if he wants to have friends, but his friends already understand him very well. They know that he's like that, and from what we saw in The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog, occasionally they forget it's not personal. I'm happy to see them admitting "oh no, I completely misjudged you, I'm so sorry!" because it's been way too long since we've heard the main cast apologize to Shadow for assuming he was a big jerk on purpose.

Knowing the restrictions on how Shadow is written have been lifted, I'm really hoping we can get more of how he's meant to be, the reserved, socially awkward but well-meaning hedgehog we love. Autistic Shadow FTW!

(our experiences and headcanons

may differ, that's okay.)

#character analysis #character meta #shadow character meta #shadow the hedgehog #long post #sonic the hedgehog #sth shadow #shadow autism moments #he's just like me fr fr #sonic headcanons #shadow headcanons

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narrators-journal · 26 days

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20$ make a fella holla

I don’t know if it’s obvious, but I can never describe Senku’s fucking hair. It’s just...how do you describe that shit??

Regardless, I hope this is a fun read, I just kinda had fun with it, tried to make it amusing to read, just a lil fake dating romp <3 Hope the romantic tone is there though at the end! I thought it was a pretty cute lil moment, at least.

Some people loved weddings, with the belief that they were the perfect time to bask in the love of your partner and joy of your family. Some, believed the events to be garish, stressful, exhausting nightmares for everyone involved. Which, was more or less the group you fell into.

Though, of course, you had no real issue with weddings, and someday may also wish to be married to your own future partner. But, that didn’t keep the sudden invitation to a family friend’s surprise nuptuals from coming out of left field.

So, befitting someone in your panicked position, you scrambled to find a date to accompany you to the event. Someone, anyone who could make sure you couldn’t be paired off with a complete and total stranger for pictures, and that no well-intentioned aunties, or eager, nosey grannies could offer potential dates and suitors.

Alas, your boyfriend had dumped you a month before, and none of your friends were free to attend with you. “When does this crap end? I’ve got a project to get to.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Senku, will you please quit complaining already? Do you have zerofucking social skills?” You hissed back in a similarly quiet tone your date at the reception table. Aka your roommate, Senku Ishigami. A slightly eccentric, odd-haired 19 year old science prodigy on his third year of college, and your last fucking nerve at the moment.

But, your annoyance seemed to simply bounce off of your ‘boyfriend’ as his crimson eyes glared back at you as he muttered quietly, “I do, but this is damned boring. Plus, this tuxedo is itchy as hell. I did my bit, why don’t we just leave already? The ceremony’s over.” “Because that’s passive aggressive and rude, Senku. Have you never been to a wedding?” You asked back, but before your ‘boyfriend’ could shoot back with some explanation about the useless nature of such events, one of your tablemates asked, “So, how long have you two been together?” in an attempt to start some less hissed and angry conversation. “Oh! Uh, about…” While you scrambled for a good answer, Senku jumped in to save you, “Going on two years soon. A little under a month before that marker, actually.” He answered, his boredom well hidden under his usual cool, unbothered demeanor as he spoke, but it still irked you.

Almost as much as his claim did, honestly. God, why am I not surprised that he doesn’t give a singular fuck about the plot holes I’ve gotta patch up if someone asks for details?You mentally fumed as your expression remained politely chipper and joyful as the woman across from you continued to ask questions. “How ever did you two meet then? I hope I’m not rude, but you two don’t seem like eachothers ‘types’.” She hummed, but before you could toss out some bland, cutesy meet-cute plot, Senku spoke once again, “Oh, kinda creepily, actually. She needed a room mate, I was just the person to take her offer.” Why not just admit I’m paying you to be here too?!“We didn’t like eachother at first, I usually don’t like super extroverted girls surrounded by dramatic friends and shit. Which, at first, that’s what she seemed like. I mean, jeez, let loose a machete-wielding maniac on campus and she’d have been prime ‘hot bimbo victim’ material.” Oh my fucking god, Ishigami, what next? Calling me ‘the old ball and chain’? How is this supposed to be believably romantic?!But, of course, the man continued regardless of your attempts to psychicly blow him up. “But, a month or so in, I realized my assumptions were wrong. She’s actually quite a funny, charming girl, with a good head on her shoulders, and some intellegence to her. And...well, y’know, I asked her out from there. Though, I have no clue why she agreed to date my ass, but she did! And I’ve held onto my title since then.”

As he spoke so easily, you were stuck with a nerves-laced smile the entire time. Only able to muster the occassional giggle to try and sell the romance in his take on your actual situation. Because, what else were you to do? Correct your boyfriend on your meeting story? That’d just out how fake the two of you were in an instant, so you mostly focused on your bland wedding reception food and tried not to give your room mate dirty looks as he spoke.

Thankfully, though, the woman across from you two seemed at least a bit charmed, or at least amused by the romantic twist on how your initial meeting with the odd-haired scientist. So, you could let out an internal sigh and redirect the conversation away from your ‘love story’ before Senku could cook up any other questionable tales. But, as you sat there in polite conversation as you ate your fillet mignon and mashed potatoes, Senku’s story was able to settle into your mind. Allowed to stew and marinate as the reception continued.

Why the hell would he got down such a weirdly honest route? He seems more the type to claim we met on tinder, not that weirdly sweet tale of growing to like me from an awkward set up. You asked yourself. Because, in the two years you’d had the man as a room mate, he had always favored blunt honesty over sugar-coating anything, so, it was odd that he had such a long-winded lie at the ready. And it you couldn’t explain it away as him having ‘prepped for the role’, you had to fight him just to put on a tux and pull his gravity-defying hair into a ponytail so he didn’t look weird in any wedding photos. He wouldn’t bother with that type of preparation. So...what? Was he being...honest?

It wasn’t an entirely comfortable realization to come across. Even if Senku had his moments of being attractive, and he was a pretty good room mate, he had the tact of a brick, and a blatant love for science over any living person, least of all you, right?

God, get a hold of yourself, girl.You chided yourself with a small sigh, only a glance thrown to your date to briefly study how he sat and ate his food, that glint of boredom back in his cherry-colored eyes. This isn’t some rom-com fanfiction. Your roomie hasn’t been harboring some deep love for you for two years unless your a beaker of nitroglycerin. You reminded yourself firmly, the flustered butterflies in your belly squashed coldly as you returned to the food in front of you.

Though, after a moment, you did dare another glance to your pretend boyfriend beside you, and this time, those crimson orbs looked back at you. And, as if the scientist had suddenly learned to read your mind, he leaned over until you could feel his warm breath tickle your ear when he whispered, “What’s with the weird looks? Surprised the unfeeling scientist has a heart?” in a playful,flirtatioustone that was almost alien to hear mixed into his voice. A tone you had heard plenty of time in your life, but still managed to cause you to gasp, and choke on your own spit. Like a true charmer.

“Oh! Oh shit, are you choking on something, hon?” Senku asked, instantly on his feet as you coughed on your surprise, “Jesus, maybe this is a good time to go. With your luck, dear, you’ve got a cold brewing.” He said, at least decent enough to fabricate some form of a lie before he took his opportunity and almost drug you from the reception hall just as you got your breath back. I’m going to kill this bastard.

#Senku x fem!reader #Senku Ishigami #x reader #Dcst #dr stone #Senku x reader #scenario #Ao3 ask

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sorrowfulrosebud · 5 months

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𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: in which Yandere Skarlet and her darling move back to Earthrealm.

𝕰𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: yandere

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: yandere behaviour, murder, changed plot lines lol, housewife vibes

The situation you were in was… peculiar to say the least. Skarlet wished to finish her life in the Netherrealm and settle with you in Earthrealm. You were definitely cautious towards the entire situation. The loyalty she had dedicated to Shao Kahn was fierce, but as you came to see, the loyalty bled away when she wandered into your room one midnight.

She staggered to your sleeping form, carefully stroking your face. You sleepily open your eyes as she stares lovingly at you. Your grip on your blanket tightens as blood is splattered on her face.

“Shh, my angel. I have found a way for us to be happy. I have hired an assassin to come and kill Shao Kahn. Upon his guard finding his corpse, we shall hide away and abdicate the throne,” she murmurs to you. Blood painted your face with each stroke as your face contorts in thought.

“But… where will we go? We can’t exactly hide with the Kytinn or take refuge with the Linn Kue monks,” you whisper back frightened. She shushes you again.

“Shh my darling. We shall leave and go to Earthrealm, where you used to live. I shall retire my status here, and live amongst you and the other mortals. We shall live as people,” she explains excitedly, pushing your head against her chest. Your heart starts pounding.

“I- I’m going home?!” You whisper to yourself. Skarlet’s claws dig into you slightly.

“WE are going to Earthrealm. I have it all figured out. If your home is still functional, we shall reside there. We can get jobs, and learn to live amongst the mortals. You will teach me how to live as one of you,” she explains giddily, letting you go.

“What do you say, my angel?”

It was incredible having a sense of control back in your life. Despite the fact that your old home was destroyed, you managed to find a dodgy apartment complex that asked no questions. You had to find a job since Skarlet had very… limited… social skills (and life skills in general). She was curious about everything in the apartment. It was honestly kind of cute when she jumped and went to draw her blades when the toaster popped.

Even introducing her to microwaveable meals was an experience. You found she enjoyed darker red meats, and wasn’t too keen on more vegetarian dishes.

She was not keen at all to let you go find work again, not in the slightest. You had to explain to her gently that until she can fully adjust to being a human in modern society, it would be better that you focus on working while she tends to the home. Skarlet was still moody about it, until you said that it can be her way of taking care of you. You explain that she can learn quicker by cooking meals for you both, and keeping the flat clean prevents illness. This perks her up substantially.

She even takes it upon herself to try to learn to write English/your language. She asks you to help her learn, so you bring back preschool books. It offends her, sure, but you have to explain to her that it’s better to start from scratch so she can learn quicker. And learn quicker she does; in the space of 2 weeks, she is filling out the workbooks miraculously quick and with 100% accuracy. She ends up working at a 17 year old level in a month, and after 2 she’s possibly more fluent in writing than you!

The transition for Skarlet from being royalty to a regular person is bizarre. She was so used to people fearing her and respecting her from the sound of her name alone, to having next to no one give a shit about her. She finds it humiliating when you gently correct her about something, going pink every time the toaster pops and she still jumps, or accidentally burns the food.

As much as she gets embarrassed, she adores seeing you thrive. She loves seeing you ramble about your day at work, but clenches her fist when you talk about your coworkers (something you learn to stop talking about). It makes guilt rot in her stomach; if she was struggling here when she came of her own will, how did you feel when you were taken against your will?

It takes a while to find a system that works, but when you do, it sticks. You wake up for work, give Skarlet a kiss as you get ready and go downstairs for breakfast. You choke down some slightly burnt pancakes, give her another kiss and leave. Skarlet cleans up, does some more reading and workbooks, then makes herself some lunch (usually a raw steak). She then busies herself on making dinner, wanting you to have a nice hot meal for when you came back. You come back, give her a kiss and eat dinner, then wash up and go to bed.

Skarlet never knew she could enjoy submitting to someone and taking care of someone so much. She loves seeing you thrive in something that you’re good at, and slipping back into a comforting routine that you can both enjoy.

She is still definitely a yandere. She keeps an incredibly close eye on you, and is still very possessive but she lets the reign loose a lot more too.

#yandere x reader #yandere skarlet #yandere skarlet mk11 #yandere skarlet x reader #yandere mortal kombat 11 x reader #yandere mortal kombat 11 #yandere mk11 #yandere mk11 x reader #yandere mortal kombat x reader #yandere mortal kombat #yandere mk #skarlet mk11

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sourpatchys · 6 months

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Chapter One: It Begins

Time: Quarry

Rating: PG, nothing explicit

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Two souls connected by fate and severed by ignorance. However, with the world changing and medication fading, they will have no choice but to face the truth. Female reader!

A/N: This chapter is much shorter than the ones in the future will be— I wanted to get some solid ground to stand on, and I feel like I did that here!

—

The topic of soulmates wasn't one for the weak of heart. It wasn't a rare occurrence, but it wasn't common by any means— it fell in a middle ground of the unknown. scientists and doctors alike took the concept at face value, never batting an eye to the phenomenon that plagued so many people.

It was a topic that most of the world viewed as taboo. And you, by a stretch of bad luck, became part of the equation.

At 16 years old— your dreams took the form of memories— only they weren't yours to remember.

Sometimes, they were fun, with laughter and warmth— and other times you swore you felt blood pouring down your spine as a sick, cold, darkness consumed you. The pain in these dreams almost felt real, and as you woke you swore there would be markings— yet there never were.

You never dared to tell anyone. The few people you'd seen who openly had soulmates weren't exactly socially accepted, they were "claimed", and no one wanted to be near them.

"Freaks of nature" is what your father called them— and by extension— what he had unknowingly called you.

At 18, you finally told your doctor. Now without the threat of your parents and peers finding out, you felt safe enough to get prescribed a "dream repellent". One used to keep up social norms, to ignore the soulmate bond all together.

Sometimes you really wish you had told someone close to you— maybe then you could've found your other half, maybe you wouldn't have needed the pills at all.

Even as someone with soul bond— you knew next to nothing about it. You chose to live in ignorance. You didn't want to think of the life you may have had, the life chosen for you.

It had been years since your last dream. Years since you heard the muffled cries of the person you were supposed to love.

And now, with no medication available, you have no choice but to face them. Potentially for the rest of your life.

You knew they were still alive somewhere, even with your limited knowledge on the subject, one thing was certain— when a soulmate dies, the other is always quick to follow.

It had been at least two months since the outbreak— and if your soulmate had died, you definitely wouldn't be alive and kicking as you were.

You were lucky enough to have found a group of survivors. Georgia was not your usual playing ground, and you were almost sure the world would've taken you with it, if it hadn't been for the kindness of Lori and the others.

Your dreams, for better or worse, hadn't started back up again, quite honestly you were hoping they never would. Even without the societal norm hanging over your head— you were afraid.

You had never felt love, or lust— not even the pull of attraction towards a childhood crush. You were, by all means, taken for, by someone you had never met.

You were sure, feeling all of those things for the first time in your adult life— would kill you.

The group you were staying with were kind people, you never went a day without food or water and Shane, the self appointed leader of the group, never shot you down if you wanted to learn a new skill. Dale, who you had jokingly deemed the groups father figure, never bat an eye when you talked to him about silly things. They were truly a found family, one you could call your own.

There were a couple people, namely, Ed, Merle and Daryl, that you avoided. They didn't seem to care for the groups makeshift family dynamic, and you weren't about to try and convince them otherwise.

Geeks you could handle, when shit hit the fan you had taken out more than just a few, but people were another thing entirely.

Even before the fall, public places always kept you on your toes, you never knew what someone else was capable of or what they were thinking. So you bid your time by playing with the children, helping Carl with the homework his mom had given him that day, and folding laundry with Carol.

Overall, it was a pretty sweet gig— given the circumstances.

That didn't mean it was flowers and rainbows all the time though, fights tended to break out more often than not recently.

"I'm tellin' you right now, if you don't get me on that run I'm takin' my brother and we're getting the fuck out of here!" Merle screamed, marching his way up to Shane as he threw his arms around in a rage.

"You know, without you and your brother we're down two fighters and a hunter— we need you here, not out there."

"Oh is that so?" Merle backed up, moving himself mockingly as he continued "You'll let a carpet muncher and a scrawny Chinese kid go, but not one'a yer' fighters? Is that it?"

Shane rubbed at his face with his hands, clearly trying to find a way to step away from the conversation entirely.

"Listen man— you can go, but if yer' goin' then Daryl's gotta take all the hunting on, he's gonna be out there, by himself, for at least a full 24 hours— are you willin'ta risk that?"

Merle sneered and started to laugh, raising his arms out to his sides in victory.

"My little brother can handle himself bossman, it ain't no hair off my back if he's by himself."

Contrary to Merles words, Daryl wasn't too keen on the idea once he was clued in. He didn't hate going by himself, it was a lot easier to stay quiet and track without someone in your ear, but the fact he was used as a bargaining chip got under his skin more than he expected.

"You can't just say stuff like that man. I wasn't even there."

The sun had set by this point, its last shining rays slowly disappearing under the horizon, the soft glow from the campfire taking its place.

"Oh, common' its no biggie, I get out and get my stash, and you get to stay here and play fairys in the woods. Sounds like a good deal to me, little brother."

Daryl kept his eyes casted to the ground, keeping his hands busy by sharpening his knife on a river rock he had found earlier in the day. Sometimes Merle got to him more than he'd like to admit, at times he just gave up, not willing to start something he wasn't prepared to finish.

The elder sat up straight, a gleam of mischief shining in his eyes as he took in his brothers demeanor.

"You're gettin' those dreams again, ain't you little brother?"

The dreams.

They had stopped years ago, everyone he told thought he was crazy. For a while, hyped up on whatever substances he could get his hands on, he believed he truly was immortal, that the world had made a sick mistake.

Soulmate connections aren't supposed to just stop, not unless there aren't any memories left to give, and yet he was still alive and well. And if they did stop— they definitely weren't supposed to start again.

"Nah, they haven't."

Merle stood, clapping his hand on Daryl's shoulder as he walked himself over to their shared tent, seemingly content with the lackluster conversation they managed to have.

"Good thing, I don't want you gettin' all emotional before we get ourselves outta here, I don't need you bailing on me over some pansy that might not even be alive."

Merle sure knew how to get under Daryl's skin. The fact that his soul bond could be a geek had never even crossed his mind until now. The level of uncertainty creeping up his spine was just enough to drive him mad.

—

The next morning was mostly uneventful, your chores stayed the same as any other day, Daryl went off to find some game, and Glenn's group headed out to Atlanta for supplies.

The only major difference was the amount of people who had left, leaving a much quieter overtone settled over the quarry.

The silence was almost unnerving, the children weren't playing, the loudest person in camp was gone, and Dale wasn't telling his usual stories, too worried about Andrea.

As the day carried on, you found yourself floating between tasks, a looming sense of anxiety holding itself over your head. You weren't entirely sure why— there was plenty to be anxious about— but it wasn't a feeling caused by anything you could see or hear, it was a sharp feeling, as if ants were crawling under your skin.

Up until this point, you had almost prided yourself in your ability to keep your composure, you had you moments of terror, you'd screamed and cried, but if nothing was happening in the moment, it was easy for you to ignore it all together. Today— you couldn't ignore it.

Snapping you out of your dazed state, you heard a screaming car alarm ripping through the mountains.

"What is that?!" You called, fidgeting where you stood, your heart beating a million miles per hour. Something was seriously wrong with you.

And then you saw it— a bright red car hurdling through the mountains.

Something inside you knew— they had finally come back.

Next chapter

#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #sourshush #daryl dixion x reader #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #twd daryl #daryl dixon show

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esta-elavaris · 5 months

Text

Part Twelve [2,590 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - *Part Twelve* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen @teawithshakespeare @dancerinthestorm

"I have a surprise for you."

Norrington looked aghast at her words, and Theo grinned, laughing and quickly continuing before he could get up and sprint back to the Interceptor. Or maybe just directly into the ocean. Whatever he continued to be the swiftest form of escape.

"You can relax, it's not for you. But you had a pretty big hand in it, so I wanted you to be the first to see it."

"The necklace?"

It could never be said that he wasn't shrewd. Or that she didn't have a way or making things painfully obvious, she supposed.

"The necklace," she confirmed, sifting through her skirts until she found the pockets sewn within.

"Wouldn't I be the third to see it, then? Behind Turner and yourself?"

"If I knew that you were going to be like this about it, you'd have been the twentieth."

"The twenty-first would've been too insulting?"

"Had to save a spot for Amelia."

"I shall keep the rest of my comments to myself, so I'm not catapulted further still down the list."

"Mm – any more snark and I'd have to put you square behind taking it to the cells in Fort Charles to show the folk there before I let you see it."

"In which case I would have to give permission – which I would only bestow if you allowed me to see the necklace, as recompense."

"I bow down to a skilled tactician," she said drily.

Of course, her deadpan humoured was dulled a bit by the smile on her face, but she couldn't help it. Who could have ever thought that the inscrutable James Norrington would ever be willing to sit and chat nonsense with her – unbegrudgingly, and with a smile on his face? It beggared belief. And she enjoyed it more than she should.

"It's not an exact replica. They're not so much twins as sisters, but I kind of like that," she explained, drawing the little cloth pouch from her skirts. "It'd be a bit to twee if we were cutting about in matching jewellery."

"Cutting about?"

"Yes, yes, she speaks like a weird little commoner, we know this."

"I was not mocking you," he said simply.

He looked tempted to add something else and she waited patiently for him to do so, but when he finally did, she had the feeling it wasn't what he originally intended to say.

"Must I beg, if I wish to see this necklace?"

"Is that an offer?"

"No," came his emphatic response.

Theo laughed, unwrapping it and then dangling it by the chain before him. The pendant was around the same size as her own, and shone just as brightly, but with small curling designs running along the edges of the shape. Will had explained the reasoning for this – something to do with imperfections in the only silver he'd been able to squirrel away for use, and how this disguised them. But they were very pretty, so she'd hardly been inclined to complain in the first place.

He looked at the necklace – truly looked at it, rather than just fixing his eyes in its general direction for a polite amount of time before he went on to rattle off some sort of canned, polite compliment. The action made Theo more nervous than she let on. Sure, she'd borrowed some of Elizabeth's jewellery here and there for social gatherings, but he'd spent his whole life surrounded by the fashions and the ways of this time. If something was up with the necklace, he'd see it immediately.

Once upon a time, she would have expected him to therefore voice it immediately, too. But now she honestly couldn't say whether she'd expect that from him or not – for he was kinder than she'd first realised. Even if he probably wouldn't thank her for pointing it out.

"It's a fine piece," he said, holding it up to the light and nodding with approval that appeared perfectly sincere. "I'm sure Miss Swann will be ecstatic."

"I hope she will be. It's just such a relief to finally be able to do something nice for her," she admitted, accepting the necklace back.

He cleared his throat, perhaps uncomfortable with the sincere tone their conversation was taking, then he hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

"You must know that neither of the Swanns would hold any expectation in that regard."

"Of course I do. That just makes it worse. If they begrudged what they gave me, I'd feel less bad about it."

"Ireland must be a strange land indeed," he snorted.

Although there was something in his tone that suggested he knew exactly what she meant.

"No," she sighed, only half-joking. "Just me."

Thankfully, he chose that moment to steer them into less choppy, awkward waters.

"I'm curious. You're well-read, and you mentioned missing your books from home. What do you ordinarily read?"

Had she not been trying to rein in a very mortifying bout of emotions, she might've realised how that had the potential to be a dangerous question – given the time discrepancy.

"Whatever I can get my hands on. It depends on my mood. History…"

By that, she meant salacious autobiographies of her favourite musicians.

"…Philosophy…"

That one, at least, he could take at face value.

"…Horror," she added.

"Horror?" he frowned.

Well. It looked like that hadn't been invented yet. Great. Although she shouldn't have really been surprised, she supposed – what book invented it? He'd been pretty generous in describing her as well-read, but she wasn't an expert on literature, nor educated on it enough to know when certain genres began or how. She could guess that horror began as gothic literature and morphed a bit, and it did seem a bit early even for that. Although she wasn't sure what signs she could look for. Amelia stomping about the town in Demonia platforms and black lipstick? Annoyingly, she'd probably be able to pull it off.

Alas, she'd dug herself into this hole now – so she might as well start making it hospitable.

"Horror – stories of…of ghosts, and the supernatural, and of people who do terrible things."

"It hardly sounds like the stuff of recreational reading."

"It makes sense, once you dig into it."

"By all means, explain it to me."

From anybody else, it might've felt condescending. Hell, from him it would have been condescending only a few weeks ago. But instead, as he spoke, he watched her with open curiosity – with expectation. Not because he was waiting for her to make an absolute tit out of herself, but because he genuinely expected that what she was about to say might be interesting. From James Norrington, that was damn high praise.

"It…it provides a safe avenue to explore those feelings," she cringed at how new-age faux-intellectual that sounded, especially to someone who had actually fought in battles out at sea, and quickly continued. "For someone who's never experienced real fear, or real danger, if they get really engrossed in a story full of those things, they experience that fear. Obviously to a far, far lesser extent, but it's something. It's better than nothing. I'm not saying a book'll turn them into some grizzled war veteran-"

"Like myself?" he asked drily.

"You're not grizzled," she snorted. "Reading horror is just…microdosing danger."

"Microdosing danger?"

Was she hallucinating, or was that an amused smile on his face? One that wasn't even grudging? God, she was at risk of swooning.

"Yeah, like-"

"I can guess your meaning well enough, even if I've never heard the phrasing before."

"Look at us, bridging the language barrier. You've a promising career in diplomacy ahead of you."

"By God, I hope not. If you'd been paying attention, you would have seen that my skill lies in conflict."

"So does diplomacy, really."

"Diplomats cannot utilise cannons in their work."

"Maybe you could be the first."

He rolled his eyes and she couldn't help but laugh fondly, wrenching them back to the topic at hand. There was only so much of her nonsense that he'd willingly tolerate before he excused himself, and she enjoyed his company.

"There's something thrilling about it, too. Scaring yourself when there isn't anything real to be scared of. Monsters, evil, the like. It can be exciting."

"Spoken like one who has never encountered monsters, nor evil," he said flatly.

"You don't know what I've seen."

She meant the words to be teasing – referring to what she knew lay ahead, perhaps, or maybe just the sight of her dad's brothers-in-arms hungover on a Sunday morning. James didn't laugh, which wasn't that surprising, but nor did he roll his eyes. Instead, he looked…well, not quite stricken, but suddenly very solemn indeed, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a moment before he forced his lips together. Bowing his head, he cleared his throat and then looked back at her again, very much the solemn Captain Norrington.

"You are right – I do not. My apologies."

Theo blinked in surprise. She'd gotten fairly decent, although far from infallible, when it came to gauging her daft little jokes here, but Norrington's sincere and solemn response caught her off guard. Not least because he watched her keenly now. Was there something she should be saying?

"Er…don't worry about it. I was only being silly."

He continued looking at her for a few long moments, and she couldn't help but feel like whatever he'd wished for her to say, that hadn't been it.

Governor Swann was holding a dinner party that evening – for the seniormost men in Port Royal who were about to make sail. It was a tradition that the Governor himself had founded shortly after arriving in Port Royal, ensuring that the men about to leave at least got one good meal in, as well as a bit of entertaining company, before they went off to see to their duty. Ordinarily, it was something James merely endured. Yes, he often found he enjoyed the evenings more than he expected to, but that lack of expectation seldom had anything to do with the company he would find there.

He'd more than earned his reputation of being a man of duty. Whatever minor gripes he had with how they extended to whispers that he had no sense of humour, or that he could find no joy in anything but duty, he could roll his eyes and brush off such comments. Not least because of the small amount of truth in them – for on the nights before he was due to leave Port Royal, he simply had no desire to spend the last of his time making small-talk in drawing rooms. No, he would much prefer to instead spend it making sure that everything was in order, including his thoughts, before he left.

This voyage would require no extensive preparations. It was more of a patrol than a real mission. A short journey through the surrounding waters, aimed at both ensuring those waters were safe, maintaining a tangible presence for any foul eyes who may be watching with malintent, and to stop their wits from dulling during extensive time inland.

Still, James found himself disgruntled at what lay ahead…and all because of a conversation he'd had with Governor Swann himself, that morning as they walked the battlements of Fort Charles.

"Elizabeth is ecstatic at the prospect of tonight – it's her first chance to show off her gift from Miss Byrne. I don't suppose you've seen it?"

"No," he lied. "I have not. What is it?"

If he told the truth of the matter, there ran a real risk of credit being attributed to him, and not Miss Byrne. He had no risk to detract from her victory. Not when he'd seen how jubilant it made her.

"A necklace – a pretty little trinket, to be sure. It won't be featured next to the Crown Jewels any time soon, but the sentimental value behind the piece far outshines those in the eyes of my daughter."

James chuckled. "I'm sure it does."

"Truth be told, I was worried about the influence our guest may have on her, but I've discovered those worries were all for naught. Miss Byrne has certainly brightened up her days considerably. Thick as thieves, those two."

"Good. I'm glad."

Worryingly, he found he even meant that. Mostly.

"You never know, perhaps Miss Byrne will find herself a suitor during one such evening as tonight."

Stilling, James blinked and looked up at the Governor. "A suitor?"

"Come, Captain," the Governor chuckled, misunderstanding his shock. "She has her eccentricities, but she's fair. Some may even profess to find her charming, in her way. If we cannot find her father, and if he does not find us, or if he cannot find us, God help him, we must…look to the future. She could do far worse for herself than a strapping young lieutenant. Although, I grant you, it would have to be one with good humour."

There were only two lieutenants who came to mind at all, and the latter part of Governor Swann's statement firmly ruled out Gillette from the running. Although he had to admit, it would make a good show to see Gillette trying to woo a woman such as Theodora Byrne. But Groves? The notion of Groves doing so filled him with less humour. And how could it not, he reasoned? They knew nothing of her background, nor how that background may impact whether she was eligible at all. That was the source of his discomfort. Nothing more.

The memory of the conversation had James' lips thinning. Hopefully Governor Swann had less of a stomach for matchmaking than his daughter did.

Ordinarily, this turn of events would have been a great help. Elizabeth could no longer fill her mind with misguided notions regarding himself and Theodora if Miss Byrne was occupied with the attentions of Groves, that much was true. It would have been an exceedingly neat little solution. One, he was sure, he would have personally encouraged – were it not for the extraneous factors.

And as for those extraneous factors, he was certain – truly certain – that he was getting somewhere. You don't know what I've seen. When they'd first met, she never would have admitted such a thing aloud to him. This camaraderie that had grown between them, that very same camaraderie that surprised him in how little he had to feign or resort to pretence in order to achieve it, and worried him in how natural and easy it felt, was working.

Was it wrong for him to find happiness in that? More than the mere satisfaction in achieving an important aim, but the true pleasure in having gained the confidence of a woman – a person – who had shown themselves to be truly decent, whatever her secrets? For he was good at sniffing out artifice and foul intentions, and while Theodora had some of the former about her, she had none of the latter. Today, he'd almost even slipped up and admitted that he liked her strange little idioms and turn of phrase, but he held himseld back. Thankfully. For that could very well be misread, and spook her. And when she did finally confide in him, as he was growing more and more hopeful that she would, he would in turn finally be able to help her.

The notion of Groves swooping in and courting her was just that. A mere notion. A passing possibility planted in his mind by an errant comment of Governor Swann's – a fleeting comment he probably now had no recollection of making, for it meant so little. It was not set in stone, and it only bothered James personally because he might undo the progress he was making here. That was all.

Yes. That was all.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

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lipglosscherrybomb · 2 years

Text

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 ❦ 𝐌.𝐖. ❦

𝙞 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚. ⁂

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 (𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 17), 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 (𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩), 𝙧𝙪𝙙𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨. <3

𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ❦

unfortunately, your social skills peaked in the first grade. when you befriended your now best friend, will byers. sometimes you wished you’d gotten a warning beforehand, considering you didn’t realize that would also mean befriending mike wheeler, and joining their ‘dnd’ party.

you weren’t upset about the ‘dnd’ part, you honestly loved it. and you loved lucas and dustin, who had grown to love you back after their “no girls” phase had come to an end.

and all of that led you here. halfway-wasted. contemplating to hook up with the next guy who walked by you for entertainment purposes. although that might not be the best idea. but who cares? right?

you got up off the couch. gripping the red plastic cup some guy named jason had given you when you first walked in. you figured you’d stick with it. not knowing if it would be considered rude or something to discard it and take a new one each time you got a refill. which, coincidentally, was exactly what you were about to do before a hand you immediately recognized could stop you.

“chill out with that, harrington. you’re already drunk enough.” he said. his slender fingers lingering on your wrist. you looked down at his hand placement. too intoxicated to fully register what he was feeling at the moment, or what you were. he never touched you, i mean, if we’re being honest, he barely ever spoke to you unless you two were having some argument about whatever random topic he’d decided to disagree with you on simply to spite you.

he pulled away quickly. “that shit’s pretty strong.” refusing to even glance at you. “yeah, you’d know with all of those ragers you never got invited to.” you replied. ignoring the boy and dipping your cup into the red liquid. filling it up a bit above the half.

“i’m just saying. no one’s gonna carry your drunk ass home. so if you get fucked up, it’s on you.” he said. it was like his tone shifted entirely. before it was leaning more towards concern, now he was just defensive.

you didn’t say anything. instead you looked at him, confused as to why he suddenly cared at all what happened to you. he never had before.

he took your silence as a sign to carry on. but before he did, you noticed his eyes trail up and down your body as if to examine your outfit. it was a tight red dress. something you’d had stored up in your closet and figured now would be as good a time as ever to wear it. not like you went out a whole lot anyway. “guess i’ve got nothing to worry about. with the way you’re dressed, some other guy will probably take you home anyway.” he continued. pushing past you to make his way towards lucas and max.

you scoff, taking a sip from the drink in your hand. as if it was his queue, dustin approached you. without even turning to look at him, you began complaining. “that boy has a stick up his ass, i swear.” you mumbled. periodically taking sips from the cup, more for entertainment than actual enjoyment or wanting to get even drunker than you already were.

“who?” he asks, looking at you. probably half interested in your response. he could already tell when you were upset about mike or if it was about someone else, he had years of practice. with you knocking on his door every other day either to complain about something mike had said, or complain about him in general. most of the party presumed you both secretly liked each other and constantly placed bets on when you’d finally accept it. as far as you know, they were still making you and mike-related bets, just behind your back.

“mike! it’s like i can’t catch a break. i mean, he basically just called me a whore for no reason- and he’s so frustrating and annoying and he always speaks in such a condescending tone… it makes me want to punch him in the face.” you rant. dustin stepping away a bit as if you were going to explode in rage.

“right…so, is your brother coming?” he asks. you shoot him the meanest look you could conjure up in the moment in response to him ignoring you. “no. he said he had shit to do so i told him to forget about the party.” you responded. your interest still fixated on mike who was sitting on the couch across the room, talking to lucas about something.

“what?! he’s my ride back.” he complains, throwing his arms up in protest.

“hitch.” you responded. very aware of how sour your tone turned. dustin just stared at you in disbelief. you let out a small laugh at his expressions.

“chill, i told him to pick you up later.”

“me? what about you?”

you let out a dry laugh. “are you joking? remember how freaked he was last time? if steve finds out i got wasted again he’ll kill me. i think i’d rather walk back.” you said. remembering the time steve picked you up from the wheeler’s and you’d been drinking with nancy.

“ha, good luck with that.” dustin said. walking away after giving you a pat in the back.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ❦

it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment you got absolutely shitfaced. you knew you drank a lot, maybe a little too much, but you still didn’t think you’d get this bad. with all the shit that had been going on, then mike setting you off, you needed to forget about all of it before you completely lost your shit.

steve had already picked dustin up, and your brother offered you a ride back home for the last time before he drove off with your curly-headed friend, but you decided to stick around in the hopes of the party getting a bit more fun. spoiler alert: it didn’t.

you spent half the night drinking alone in a corner while a bunch of guys you didn’t even know tried to make passes at you. normally you would’ve accepted, but tonight, something was different.

it was like mike took up every single one of your thoughts. making you completely ignore any other guy that tried to talk to you.

you tried to blame the alcohol, told yourself it was just that having your head spinning. but you were absolutely lying to yourself, you knew damn well he’d been taking up your mind ever since you met him. he’d been all you could ever think about. but you pushed those thoughts away for as long as you could. because somehow, hating him was easier than loving him.

and now, there you were. sitting on the floor of a stranger’s bathroom, thinking about mike wheeler out of all people. you threw your head back in order to stop the room from spinning. closing your eyes and ignoring the entire world that was behind that door.

“i’ll come back in a sec-“ he stumbled in the bathroom, calling out to our friends in a rush. he stopped when he spotted you. he looked at you for a second, or better yet, he admired you. almost like he was in a trance.

you open your eyes to find him still staring at you. although his eyes weren’t where you’d expect them to be. he was looking at your…waist? nope- lower…oh.

you close your legs quickly, having finally felt the cold air hitting you. “sorry.” you mutter. leaning against the sink.

“uh, it’s cool. sorry for barging in like that, it was unlocked and i kind of just-“ he cuts himself off. something you’d never seen him do in his entire life. something you wish he’d do more. “are you okay?”

“i’m great. why do you ask?” you retort, sarcasm coating your voice.

“well, it’s been almost a minute and you haven’t insulted me or anything.” he adds.

“taking the night off!” you exclaimed with almost no energy. raising your now empty cup in the air.

“you’re wasted…” he pointed out, awkwardly.

“you should be a detective. honestly, hawkins p.d. is really missing out, wheeler.”

“ok…we really need to get you home, harrington.” he said. suddenly forgetting about whatever he had gone into the bathroom for.

he reached for you, and in your drunken state, you didn’t even try to protest, slinging your arm around his neck and him settling his arm around your waist to hold you steady.

after that it was all kind of a blur. you remember some of the walk back to your house, and you also remember him looking at you every once in a while to make sure you were still conscious.

once you got to your house, you thanked any and every higher power you didn’t believe in that your brother wasn’t there yet, and neither were your parents.

mike led you upstairs. laying you down on your bed and making sure you were settled.

“mike,” you whispered, apparently loud enough for him to hear, seeing as he turned towards you almost like he was waiting for you to say it. “yeah?” he responded. matching your quiet tone.

you didn’t continue whatever you were about to say. instead, you looked into his eyes. his stare avoiding yours as he examined you. “hey, what’s that on your arm?” he perks up, his eyes finally meeting yours.

you look down, curious as to what he meant. when you finally find what he was referring to, you raise your other hand to go and touch the bleeding spot on your skin. which you don’t remember getting. therefore, you wondered if it had been self- inflicted, or accidental.

“i don’t know.” you say, wondering where you could’ve gotten it from.

“c’mon,” he continues, holding out his hand for you to take. you reluctantly took it, feeling as he pulled up your weight with just one arm and then led you into the bathroom.

he sat you down on the toilet, frantically looking for whatever he could find to disinfect your injury. your head spun as you wondered why the hell he even cared about you right now. first he said he wouldn’t help you if you got wasted, but then proceeded to do just that. you were tired of his mixed signals, and in your drunken state you decided to press for answers. no matter how uncomfortable it might make you.

he kneeled in front of you. a comfortable silence filling the room as he signaled for you to hold out your arm. he began to cure the cut. and now that you could see it in a brighter setting, you’d realized it was pretty damn big. you couldn’t remember where you’d gotten it, but it didn’t matter.

“hey, mike…”

“don’t worry, i’m almost done.” he muttered, placing his right hand on your thigh for a split second as a reassuring gesture. he must’ve thought he was hurting you or something.

“no, um…” you started, pulling back your arm so his focus would be on you.

and so it was. you looked down at him, his dark curls falling over his face. and for some reason you forgot what you were saying, what you were thinking. he was so beautiful.

“yeah?” his soft voice snaps you back into reality. making you regain your train of thought.

“why are you being so nice to me?” word vomit.

“what?”

“well- earlier…at the party, you said you wouldn’t take me home. and then you did. and you always fight with me, but then you’re nice…i don’t get it. do you like me or not?” you slurred your words. making it clear that your intoxication level was still very much over his.

he didn’t respond right away. he raised his right hand up to your face, pushing back the strands of hair that covered your eyes. eyes he could get lost in for hours, the eyes of the only girl he’d ever loved.

his hand lingered on your cheek for a while, struggling to let go. you stared at him, begging over and over in your mind that he’d make a move already. it was like your thoughts were moving so fast you couldn’t keep up.

he finally leaned in, as if he could read your mind, staring profusely into your eyes. the eyes of the only girl he’d ever loved, the eyes for the girl he hoped loved him back.

his face was inches away from yours. you could smell the alcohol on him, even though he looked a thousand times more sober than you did.

without even thinking about it, you pressed your lips against his. tasting the lingering vodka on him. you couldn’t believe it, a few hours before this, you “hated” mike wheeler, and as far as you were concerned, he hated you too.

but in this moment, you couldn’t remember an exact reason for that hatred. all you could do was think about him. the guy you’d been in love with your entire life. the guy who had changed your perspective on everything ever since you two connected. like, really connected.

all your senses were filled by all that was mike wheeler. and you couldn’t get enough.

he deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. years of love he’d believe to be unrequited being unfolded in this single moment, one he’d remember forever.

you tugged on his black shirt, pulling him closer as he placed his hands on your thighs, still kneeling on the floor as you sat only slightly taller than him.

his hands traveled a little higher, “is that okay?” he whispered into your lips, holding eye contact as he waited for a response.

“yes.” you said, missing his proximity already. god, he had to know how you felt about him, right?

“wait, wait-“ he stopped, backing up from you. he put his hands up to his face as if he’d done something wrong. “you’re drunk- this isn’t right.”

you couldn’t really say anything. it’s not like he was wrong, but he wasn’t sober either.

“mike-“

“no, wait. i need to say something.” you shut up, hearing him out before you began to express your own feelings.

“i like you, y/n. i always have. i know i don’t show it but i kind of always thought you hated me so i thought that maybe hating you would be easier than to actually face facts….” he kneeled back down. keeping his tone soft and his movements gentle. before continuing, he brought a hand up to your face, cradling it.

“i love you. i always have and honestly i probably always will. it’s okay if you don’t feel the same- i know i’ve been an asshole to you, i just-“ he sighed. “i wanted you to know that.”

you looked at him, waiting for him to signal that he’d stopped talking.

“mike,” you paused purposely, bringing your hand up to play with his hair, admiring the way he was looking at you. as if you were the only person in this world. “i love you too. always have, always will.”

#mike wheeler #mike wheeler fluff #mike wheeler smut #stranger things #finn wolfhard #steve harrington #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #yn #fluff #stranger things season four

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treason-and-plot · 1 year

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REPLIES TO CONNOR FIGURING THINGS OUT AND SOME UNRELATED WAFFLE!

First off, I'd like to express my heartfelt appreciation to @mysimsloveaffair @dandylion240 @hurricanesims @bool-prop @simbico @windermeresimblr @oasislandingresident @pixelcurious @simlicious @simsdada @nectar-cellar @percosim @wannabecatwriter @ninjaofthepurplethings @muses-circle @zosa95 @simsdada @parystrange and @anamoon63 for your sweet well wishes on my flu post. I don't think I have ever had the legit flu before, although of course I have had my fair share of colds and viruses, and it really hit me hard. Worst thing was the fever and the loss of interest in everything. I still feel a bit weak and shaky but I'm 99% better. Thank you again for helping me get through it! I love youse all!🤗 Now, on to the replies to my last story post:

@justanothersimsblog

Why lie about it? Just be the supposedly proud you are of being the side piece

Because it matters to her what Connor thinks of her despite her denials. That's also why she didn't have a cigarette on the way over, in case he smelled it on her ;=)

@wannabecatwriter

Truth hurts, especially when someone smart confronts you with it.

This particular situation must be very unsettling for Saffron, who's used to being the smartest person in the room!

@echoweaver

Well, being that she's a high school student, the other explanation would be that he knows his peers would be creeped out regardless of his marital status -- as they should be.

I don't know if that would be a deterrent to be honest- at least not amongst Aussie men. In my experience they would be high-fiving him and offering their congratulations, as vile and depressing as that sounds!

@queeniecook

Hahaha, I love this!

@oasislandingresident

I am waiting for Saffron to either burst into tears or bust out of there tbh

Saffron bursting into tears would be epic. I can't remember an occasion that she has ever burst into tears! You're probably in a better position than me to remember if it's ever happened, lol!

@simsaralove

There’s no fooling Connor!

Try and fool Perceptive Sims at your peril!

@ktarsims

LMAO - Deny it all you want because you don't want him to know, Saffron, but Connor's very perceptive. You might fool him into thinking you don't know the guy's married, but he's certain of his facts. (He's right, too.)

Also I get the feeling that once Connor has made up his mind about something it's virtually impossible to get him to budge!

@sweetnovember77

First of all, it’s none of Connor's business. Saffy, you do not owe Connor an explanation. Most, if not all, of your mistakes can be excellent learning opportunities. If Connor wants to be with you, make him earn your love. —Not badger you for it. He needs to back off.

Except they are playing Truth or Dare so she kind of agreed to be badgered when she signed up. I think one of the underlying rules of Truth or Dare is that you don't participate in anything that makes you uncomfortable and hopefully Saffy would understand that. And I totally agree that mistakes can be excellent learning opportunities, except Saffron hasn't yet realised that she has made a mistake...which is going to be potentially disastrous.

@kscriba

In a vacuum, if I didn't know Saffy, just based on her answers I would assume it's a sugar baby situation LOL

This made me guffaw! I really can't imagine Saffy being in that kind of situation though because she is so strong-willed and independent. I could actually imagine her being a sugar mama though once she becomes a wealthy and successful lawyer!!

@muses-circle

I can't decide if Connor is honestly interested in Saffron and going about it the wrong way, or if he's doing this to be a smut jerk. He's totally right (and the truth hurts), but at the same time, Saffron's there to hang out...right? IDK, something about this feels off.

I think the first line is true! It may not be immediately obvious because of his good looks and privileged aura, but he is definitely lacking in key social skills. But he does genuinely want to get to know Saffron better.

@batsheba

Busted! Me thinks Saffy do protest too much. Maybe she's a tiny bit embarrassed of the relationship or that Connor so easily figured it out?!

I also think she knows she is protesting too much but feels temporarily powerless to stop herself! Connor has really gotten her flustered. And she feels torn between wanting to stay and being scared she will expose herself further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WAFFLE:

So I've been reading some of the comments posted in response to that aesthetics poll, and people have had some very interesting and diverse opinions. Here are a few of my thoughts.

As a storyteller my primary focus is on my writing, and editing my screenshots comes a very distant second. I have to confess though I once did try to download Reshade, around the time Sims 4 was released because as a Sims 3 blog I was hemorrhaging followers and I thought I had to up the ante as far as my screenshots were concerned to stem the flow. Anyway it froze not only my game but my entire PC, and I was so scarred by the experience I never tried again. I have never owned Photoshop either. I use Picasa and Pixlr to edit my pics and I'm generally happy with the results although I am envious of certain Simblrs who manage to combine lush photo editing skills with engrossing storytelling! But if anyone ever came into my ask box and criticized my screenshots I would reply that virtually all my creativity is expended on my writing, sorry, and if you're not following me for my Sims story you may want to reconsider that decision!

I'm probably not typical of most of the community either because I don't *get* a lot of the aesthetics that garner hundreds of notes. For content to resonate with me it has to touch something emotional, and a picture of a Sim with no context just isn't going to do that for me no matter how amazing and beautiful the edit. I'm here for Sims stories, and legacies and gameplay that communicate the lives and loves and all the idiosyncrasies and quirks of our Sims, no matter what iteration of the franchise you're into!

#replies #blather

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littlesniggy · 6 months

Text

Commission Dabi x Reader

Hello everyone. So I had another commission two months ago and this time it was about Dabi. I honestly find it quite difficult for him to write but I did my best. This is part one of two (not sure when / if I'll get the second part of the commission though). Hope you enjoy it and looking forward to your feedback! Warnings: playing mind games, Dabi being a little sh*t, stalking, paranoia, Dabi still has black hair and goes by the name Dabi Pairing: Dabi x female reader Word count: 5.8k

You wish you never opened your eyes. You wish you were still asleep, dreaming of God knows what. You would even prefer dreaming about being stuck in a crowded place, desperately waiting to get away; anything would be better than what you are currently staring at.

You pull your blanket closer to your face, your eyes wide open with fear and shock as a pair of piercing, ice blue eyes stare right back at you. Your heart is pounding inside your chest, threatening to burst right out of your ribcage and run as far away from this situation as possible, leaving you behind.

You don’t dare avert your gaze from his, afraid he’d do something the moment your attention wasn’t 100% focused on him. The longer you stare at him, the more your eyes get used to the darkness inside your room and the more you are able to make out more than just his eyes.

Your heartrate quickens (if that’s even possible) when realization hits you that you’ve met this person before. The shadow in the corner of your room seems to notice your realization as a lazy smile forms on his lips, his eyes hooded with satisfaction.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Your voice cracks and sounds higher than usual but that’s what fear does to your body. It paralyzes you to the point where you don’t even recognize yourself anymore. You know people react differently to fear and the prospect of death. It is commonly known as fight of flight mode. Your uncle once told you that he fought off an entire gang of villains (you still doubt it was a gang) because they threatened your aunt. He just acted on instinct and fended them off. You wish you had the same courage, to simply stand up to this person and fight. But that’s just not how you are; that’s not who you are.

He steps closer to your bed, his hands buried deep inside his pockets, his predatory eyes glinting with anticipation. It’s the same glint he had in his eyes the first (and only) time you met him a couple of weeks ago. He was charming but he made you feel uneasy; you’re not good with human interactions and when someone comes off too strong your brain just doesn’t know how to handle the situation. Back then, you discarded the uneasy feeling due to your lack of social skills. Why couldn’t you listen just once to your gut feeling?

He stops in front of your bed; he could grab your feet if he wanted to and instinctively you pull them closer to your body, pressing your legs against your chest.

The man chuckles and leans forward, his hands gripping the frame of your bed.

“That depends on you.”

His eyes follow random people walking by with as much interest as someone doing their taxes. None of them piques his interest, none of them would be potential candidates for the League of Villains (he still thinks it’s a stupid name but he’s not the leader nor does he particularly care). After the first meeting a couple of weeks ago with Shigaraki he’s been out looking for like-minded villains but he didn’t seem to find the right people. All of them have been a waste of time so far and he’s starting to get bored with his task. He needs some distraction.

Dabi walks past the shops of a not so busy street; the stares of the people not bothering him in the slightest. Let them stare, he’d think. They’ll stare even more once they know the truth about him.

You have to mentally prepare yourself to order this much-needed coffee you’ve been craving for the past two days. You had asked your mom to bring you one when she went grocery shopping but she told you to “get your lazy ass outside once in a while and get the coffee yourself”. So now, here you are, leaving the comfort of your cozy room just for some coffee.

“Next, please!” you take a deep breath and step forward, your face already feeling hot and you’re sure you must look like you’re in pain because the barista looks at you concerned.

“What can I get you?”

“Can I….can I get a lall….” You feel your face heat up more and more and you are certain the other people behind you are staring at you, judging your incompetence while ordering a simple coffee. The barista smiles at you encouraging but you know he is judging you as well! He thinks you’re pitiful and pathetic and he is right. He opens his mouth to inquire what you want when you take a deep breath and burst out your order.

“Canigetalargecoffewithextramilkandsugar!?” Everyone goes quiet around you and you want to sink into the ground and just disappear.

The barista looks at you wide eyed before he nods and repeats your order, just slower.

“One large coffee with extra milk and sugar. ‘s that correct?” he asks and you just nod. He types it in and asks you if you need anything else but you just mumble out a “no thank you”. He nods again and tells you the total.

You grab your purse and look for your wallet, praying to God that you didn’t leave it at home. Relief floods you when you feel it and pull it out. With shaky hands you draw your credit card and place it against the card reader. A quick beep informs you that your card has been approved and the barista tells you to please wait for your coffee.

It was sheer coincidence that Dabi waked past this coffee shop and just so happened to witness this bizarre interaction. He couldn’t help but stop and follow your struggle with his eyes. Sure, he didn’t hear what you were saying but he isn’t stupid; the reaction from the people around you told him everything he needed to know.

He watches you grab your coffee hurriedly and you seem to be looking for a seat inside the café but the only seats available are the once outside. He tries to guess whether you will sit outside or just leave but both options seem to be likely.

To his delight you choose to sit at one of the tables outside; the furthest away from everyone of course to have as few interactions as possible. You are small, almost fragile looking and your glasses make you look younger than you probably are. Oh, it’s been a while since Dabi found someone so…..timid, so…..not prepared for the real world. He’d go as far as to say that interacting with other people causes you some sort of mental pain but that’s just a hunch. He watches you take out your phone and headphones, brushing away your short hair to move them out of the way. “Forget it.” He mumbles to himself and strides over to where you’re sitting, his hands buried deep inside his pockets.

You notice a shadow but don’t look up, thinking it’s either just someone passing by or a beggar wanting some change. You are mistaken. With a dull thud someone drops down into the chair next to you, one arm leisurely resting on the backrest of your chair. Your whole body tenses and you don’t dare to look up but you feel the person next to you is eyeing you intently to the point where it’s way past being uncomfortable.

You slowly turn your head to your left; the first thing you see are a pair of thick black boots firmly placed on the ground. The coat he’s wearing almost touches the ground as well but not quite. His dark pants are held up by a grey belt and underneath this long coat he’s wearing a white shirt. You want to say something but every word that might have come out of your mouth his being silenced by the horrendous look that presents itself in front of you when you see his face.

Dark red, charred, patches of skin seem to be attached to the rest of his face by nothing but staples. Your mouth hangs open and you feel like you’re in some kind of horror movie. Is he a zombie.

“It’s rude to stare.” The man says in a monotone voice though you’re sure there is a glint of amusement in his hooded turquoise eyes. The three piercings in his nose twinkle in the sun light as well as the staples.

Out of the corner of your eyes you see his arm resting on your chair and you lean forward just a little bit in order not to touch him. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Whatcha drinkin’?” he asks nodding towards your coffee. You are completely overwhelmed by this situation and you sheepishly look around for help but everyone is ignoring you. Of course, the two freaks must know each other, you think angrily to yourself but this doesn’t get you out of this situation.

“C-coffee…” you mumble and Dabi has to lean forward in order to catch what you’re saying. You instinctively squirm away from him which makes him chuckle in return. “Relax. Not gonna hurt ya.” He says, his hand casually brushing against your arm which makes you squirm even more. “Just coffee? Or with some fancy flavor? Maybe you can give me some recommendation. First time coming to this part of town. This a good café?” being bombarded with questions makes your head spin for a moment. Which one should you reply to first? Is he being serious? You doubt it but like hell will you call him out on his bullshit!

“It’s a good place.” You mumble, lifting your hand up to your face and first scratching your neck out of discomfort and then you instinctively go over to nibbling at your fingers before straight out biting your nails. It’s a bad habit of yours which your mom has scolded you for time and time again but you can’t seem to stop it. Every time you look at your nails you are reminded of your inability to cope with stressful situations in a more healthy manner, which makes you more anxious in return.

Dabi huffs amused and leans in closer to you, his arm which is resting against your chair pulls you casually against him as well. You stiffen and a cold shudder runs down your spine. You don’t like it. The close proximity to this stranger makes you want to vomit but you hold it back. Why can’t he just leave?

To make things worse does his arm snake around you even more and he grabs your hand from your lips, his long, slender fingers holding yours in an almost iron grip. “Whoa, your nails look awful.” The taunting tone in his voice has you sinking into your chair, trying to pull your hand away from him. Shame and embarrassment flow through every vein of your body. It’s bad enough your mom keeps nagging you about it but now a stranger as well? He shows mercy though as his warm hand slowly loosens its grip around your soft fingers until your hand slips out of his.

Dabi leans back with a satisfied grin on his face. You want to retort something, you want to tell him that his whole appearance looks awful but even though he makes you uncomfortable, even though he keeps taunting and harassing you; you can’t bring yourself to criticize his looks when it’s obvious that the charred skin comes from a fire or something like that and you know the moment you open your mouth to mock him, you’d regret it.

“Why are you out here all by yourself anyway? Waitin’ for your friends? Maybe your boyfriend?” His voice drops an octave when insinuating a potential boyfriend. You know he can’t possibly think you have a boyfriend so you conclude that he is trying to find your weak spots (which you have plenty of) and it drives you crazy. Why does he keep taunting you? Why does he keep making fun of you? Is this some kind of sick game?

You shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to answer his questions. Be honest? Or lie? Or just ignore it? You opt to go with option number one. You’re not a good liar and you have a feeling that he will keep pestering you.

“Here by myself.” You reply. Dabi leans back in his seat and examines your form for a moment, his turquoise eyes reflecting the sun from above, making them even more piercing. “Is that so.” He simply responds. You can see his brain working hard behind those eyes and you kind of wished you could hear his thoughts but there is nothing but silence.

Dabi retrieves his arm from your chair. You let out a sigh of relief in return, glad the uncomfortable human contact stopped. Now he just needs to-

“Can I try it?” he points at your drink but instead of waiting for your reply he simply grabs it and takes a big sip.

Out of the corners of his eyes he sees you opening and closing you mouth like a fish but no sound comes out. He knows you want to tell him to stop; to stop drinking your coffee, to stop intruding your personal space to just stop bothering you. But you don’t. You press you lips together tightly and avert your eyes, frustration mirroring in your surprisingly pretty eyes.

“Too much milk and sugar. Shoulda ordered it black.” He comments but keeps drinking your coffee until he empties it until the last drop and places it on the table in front of you again. You are simply flabbergasted by his behavior but instead if voicing your irritation you just shift in your seat once again, no sound coming from you.

A crooked grin appears on his lips at your reaction. “Was nice meeting you but I gotta go. See ya around.” He places his hands on his thighs before getting up, his eyes never leaving your flustered from. You don’t reply. You don’t even acknowledge him leaving. Your eyes just stare at the empty cup in front of you while his heavy footsteps slowly walk away.

Dabi doesn’t look back either but he’s feeling something exciting tingling in his stomach. He’s met a lot of people being uncomfortable around him but you’re on a whole ‘nother level. You’re not just awkward around him but around everyone. The way you squirmed in your seat when he sat down, let alone when he had his arm around you; priceless! He is not a power hungry man but he can’t deny the feeling of superiority he had around you and how willing you seemed to just accept your fate, even though you were visibly frustrated with him. You could be a fun pastime while the League of Villains is still looking for new recruits. He would just let the others do the scouting. After all, he would only burn possible allies to dust anyways.

You are an utter mess when you leave the café and at first you just walk aimlessly around, trying to gather your thoughts. As much as you’d like to deny it but this interaction has you scared. Why? You don’t know but just the way he behaved with this whole demeanor…it was too much for you. You’ve never met anyone with this much confidence or rather this much audacity like him. A quick thought passes through your mind that he might’ve been on drugs? But there were no indications for that and he didn’t really strike you as a junkie.

You stop at a corner and take a deep breath. It’s over, you will never see him again. This was a once and a lifetime interaction and it just reaffirms your conviction to leave the house as little as possible. You take a quick look at your phone for the time and note that it’s time to go back home. Enough time spent outside. You need to go back to the comfort of your own room.

It’s really just coincidence that he sees you again while you cross the street but it plays into his hands. He wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a stalker just because he starts following you, his hands buried inside his pockets and heavy boots making a dull thud against the concrete floor. The word “stalker” describes losers who can’t get the girl but he knows he could get you. He would much rather consider himself a predator who stalks his prey until he's cornered it, its wide fearful eyes looking up at him, waiting for him to strike. And you just happen to fit the description of the perfect prey.

You curse yourself for not taking the car but for some odd reason you thought walking all the way to town was a good idea to clear your head and also give your body some exercise on the way. And the way here was fine. The way back is the problem. When making the decision to walk you didn’t consider the fact that you might not want to walk all the way back as well. Your feet are tired and from all the exercise this day. For a moment you contemplate calling an Uber but you decide against it. As much as you don’t want to continue walking you still need to sort your thoughts and being in a car with yet another stranger won’t help you in the slightest.

You leave the city and the spaces between houses grow bigger and bigger with property lines stretching far back behind the houses yet big trees obstruct the view on the properties. Said trees also line up on either side of the street, their green crowns offering shade for the occasional pedestrian. But right now, the sun is about to set and a cool breeze hits your face and makes you burry your hands deeper into your sweatshirt pocket and pull up your shoulders. With fast footsteps you are getting closer and closer to your home; you know the way by heart ever since you were a little child walking to elementary school with your friends and could probably also walk the way with your eyes closed.

You think back to this strange man from the café; you simply can’t get those calculating turquoise eyes out of your mind. They were mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time. They burnt their way right into your mind and now keep following you with every step you take. You suddenly feel uneasy and without thinking turn your head to look behind you. I’m just too paranoid. I’m just not used to being outside. You keep telling yourself to calm down and that your mind is playing games with you but there is this nagging feeling that you are being watched.

Another cold breeze comes from behind; it feels colder than the previous one and more forceful. Your short hair tickles your ear as if it is trying to tell you something. You turn your head around once again, this time looking harder if you can see anyone. Some leaves dance across the street carried by the wind which seems to be picking up. There is light coming from a house across the street and an older looking man is leaning against the counter across the window, a bottle of beer in hand and absentmindedly looking out the window.

You cautiously walk a few steps, your eyes scanning the area one more time before you look ahead and keep walking. You pick up your pace, the uneasiness from before slowly but surely turning into straight paranoia as you constantly feel a pair of turquoise eyes watching you from behind. But there is nothing. You shake your head but the image has burnt itself into your brain and you can’t seem to shake it off, to get rid of it.

You spin around when you hear a rustling behind you, eyes wide open with panic, trying to find the source of the sudden noise. Your body is tense and your heart is racing. Another rustling. You take a step back, pulling your backpack in front of you for a false sense of security. But yet again, you see nothing. You need to get back home. ASAP.

Even if you look insane, you start running with your backpack pressed against your chest. Your lungs soon start burning from the lack of oxygen and the lack of prior exercise. You take a mental note to start jogging one day. Just for cases like this where you feel unsafe and need to get out of a situation.

You try to push yourself to run further but your body is not playing along and you need to stop. You heart is pounding in your chest and you are sure whoever is following you can hear it as well. You press your hands into your sides, letting your backpack drop to the ground in order to alleviate the pain.

Once you’ve caught your breath you pick up the backpack again while your head looks around. Nothing there. Due to the adrenaline rushing through your body your senses seem to pick up as well because you are certain you hear heavy footsteps somewhere in the distance behind you. The same sound this man’s footsteps made when he left. Slow but heavy, each step promising misery if you stand in his way.

You start walking purposefully (your lungs are still burning) and can finally see the unremarkable house on the left side of the street with the black mail box (your suggestion when you were younger). Relief replaces the adrenaline when you turn into the driveway, cross the lawn and hurry up the stairs to your front door. Your hand grabs the doorknob and turns it, the warm and familiar smell of home greeting you from the inside.

You take a step forward, your right foot crossing the threshold when your body freezes in place, a cold shiver creeping down your body and every single hair on your body seems to be standing straight as if you were being electrocuted.

Ever so slowly an almost hot hand is grabbing you by the neck. It’s featherily light, like a hot summer breeze but it’s pushing you down, intending to force you to give in and fall. Those turquoise eyes are now boring themselves into the back of your skull and it takes every bit of willpower you have to cross the threshold completely and close the door behind you. Instantly, the hand leaves your neck and you are met with your mom sticking out her head from the kitchen, a tired smile on her lips.

“Welcome back, honey. Hope you had a nice day.”

Dabi is delighted, to say the least. He is leaning against a tree, his eyes still glued to the closed door of your house. Through a window close to the door he can see you hurry up the stairs where he presumes your room is located.

Seeing you so distraught when you thought someone was following you gave him chills of excitement. So scared, so….breakable. Sure, he was following you but you didn’t know that so your paranoia was even more enticing.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. A quick look at the display has him click his tongue and he shoves the device back into his pocket. Shigaraki could wait. He has found a plaything he couldn’t possibly let out of his sight. Not after all the entertainment you’ve already provided.

To be honest, he thought it would be more fun watching you. It didn’t take long for him to figure out where your room was located and as luck would have it, it is right next to an enormous tree. While scouting the area at night he found the perfect branch to sit on. He is still covered by the leaves but has a good look inside.

You mostly play video games or read books, sometimes texting with what he assumes are your friends but other than that, nothing interesting. To put it simple: you are a hermit. This would explain your behavior at the café the other week. Secretly, he hoped you’d do something more…forbidden. But apart from being withdrawn from society you are also quite innocent. At least for now.

The first day he thought you were like Shigaraki but he disregards this thought just as fast. Shigaraki has been bothering him for the past couple of days; he keeps complaining over the lack of new recruits but at the same time doesn’t do anything himself, he pulls everybody down with his constant mood swings (not that Dabi is all sunshine himself but he would say that he enjoys life just a little bit more than this hand freak), and he is over all a pain in the ass. You, on the other hand, don’t piss him off. Your timidity is actually kind of cute.

Dabi listens up when he hears your mom talk to you. Your window is open and a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves.

“I met Tara and her boyfriend today while I was shopping and had a lovely chat with them. Her boyfriend seems to be so courteous!” your mother gushes and he can hear your eyes roll at this comment.

“She told me that she is going to a birthday party tonight and she told me that you were also invited. Why are you not going?”

You give your mom the side eye, then look back at the book you’re reading while sitting on your bed.

“I don’t really feel like going. There are so many people I don’t know and I feel like I wouldn’t be any fun to be around.” You truthfully say. “I just don’t wanna ruin everybody’s fun…” you add in a lower tone. Your mom steps closer and stems her hands into her hips like mothers do. “Well, have you tried having fun? You don’t need to stay there forever but it’d be good for you to at least socialize now and then. You can’t stay in your room forever, you can’t live here forever and you shouldn’t be alone forever! Maybe this would be a good opportunity to find a partner?” Your face turns hot; hot because of embarrassment, shame, sadness, and anger.

“Please stop bringing this topic up again.” You quietly ask but your mom is not having it. She never does.

“I’m just saying; all your friends from school are in relationships. I even heard that Carly is already engaged!”

“I know….”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve loved to congratulate her! I’ve known her since she was a child!”

“Didn’t think it was important…”

“And when will you introduce us to a young man? When will you give us grandkids? Please, go outside and do something. Go on dates and live your life.”

You are so tired of her speech. You’ve heard it so many times, you already know it by heart. You press your lips together tightly and closer your eyes. Your mother’s eyes keep staring at you, waiting for a response so you press out a “I’ll try” to satisfy her. She sighs, shakes her head and walks away, closing the door behind her.

The moment you hear the click tears start rolling down your cheeks. You don’t want to cry; you’ve told yourself that you would let your mother’s reproach go in one ear and out the other without thinking too much about it but you can’t just tune out the sadness you feel every time she brings up this topic. It’s exhausting and you wish she’d just leave you alone.

Dabi honestly didn’t think you’d take it so “well”. He imagined you crying in front of your mom but you kept it well together. You wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie, take a deep breath and put your book away. Instead, you grab the controller of your Play Station, turn on the TV screen and start playing a game, your back resting against the wall behind your bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Dabi takes a mental note to get rid of this thing asap. On the screen it reads ‘Get over here now.’

It takes you a whole week to leave your home again and Dabi almost misses it because of Shigaraki. He’s surprised you are not taking the car after last time but maybe you figured how stupid you must’ve looked and that it was all just in your head. Silly you.

When you reach the store you look at the small piece of paper your mom gave you. Some groceries for dinner, trash bags, soap, and whatever you could possibly need. And, you do, indeed, need something. Before you forget it (because it’s not on the shopping list) you walk to the feminine hygiene section and grab two boxes of tampons, one for you and one for your mom. You know your period will visit you within the next two days and you don’t want to leave your room just because you ran out of tampons.

You take your time with the rest of the items. The store is not too crowded so you can actually take your time and enjoy being outside. You like grocery shopping. It’s just the people you don’t like. You like looking at new snacks, exotic fruit, weird looking fish, or whatever catches your eye. So, you range from isle to isle, grabbing the items your mom put on the list when you pass them but overall feel quite carefree…

…until you have this feeling again. You feel a tingling on your neck and the small hair stands up, giving you the chills. There it is again – those eyes. Your hands grab the handle of the basket tighter and you close your eyes, taking in a couple deep breaths before you open your eyes again, telling yourself it is just some unbased paranoia.

Nevertheless, you don’t feel like browsing the aisle anymore and instead grab the remaining things left on the list and hurry to the self-check-out. It doesn’t take long until you’re out of the store and immediately rain starts pouring down on you. You let out a frustrated groan, put your shopping bags down to fumble your small umbrella out of your purse. Of course, it has to start raining right now.

With your umbrella out and open, you grab the bags and make your way across the parking lot, passing other customers who are running for the store to escape the heavy rain. But you just want to get back home. The store didn’t feel safe and right now the open street doesn’t feel safe either. I should’ve taken the goddamn car. You curse yourself but it doesn’t help.

You thought that this unnerving feeling from before might disappear once you’re back outside but it’s still there. You know someone is watching you. You look around as discreetly as possible but you can’t see anyone suspicious. Just like last time. Maybe there is a villain watching you? You’ve read about maniacs who just kill anyone and everyone for fun. What if you were prey to such a villain? How would you act? Your quirk is not for fighting, let alone fighting a villain! You want to scold yourself for your thoughts but the more you scold yourself, the more prominent the fear becomes in your mind.

You don’t feel as awkward as last time when you start running regardless; after all, it’s raining right now and people will assume that you just want to get back home to avoid getting too wet.

Your heart is pounding inside your chest due to your paranoia and the physical exercise but adrenaline keeps you going. You also need to make sure the bags don’t rip open and scatter your groceries all over the ground.

A quick look down to confirm the stability of the bags has you stop in your tracks. Something is wrong. Something is missing. Tampons. To be more precise your mom’s tampons.

“Great.” You mumble to yourself. You turn around to see if they dropped somewhere along the way but you can’t see them anywhere near. Fuck it, I’m not going back. You think to yourself and keep running, your lungs are burning and your legs are heavy but you push yourself forward.

It stops raining as fast as it started and the sun comes back out, the light reflecting on the wet street is almost blinding so you have to squint your eyes. In your head you are mentally preparing for the argument that will indefinitely ensue with your mom over the “forgotten” tampons. She would scold you for buying yourself tampons but not her and you wouldn’t know how to defend yourself. Even if you told her that you must’ve dropped them along the way she would ask you why you didn’t take the car, especially since you knew it would rain sooner or later.

You turn left and walk across the driveway towards the front door, ready to accept your mother’s “wrath” when something catches your eyes. You stop and blink, thinking you’re hallucinating but you’re not. You take a few steps forward, climb the steps and stop in front of the door, your eyes glued to the small box in front if your door.

“Tampons.” You mumble confused but feel relieved. No argument, no scolding, no accusations, no-

-no way they got here by themselves.

You feel sick to your stomach and you think you have to throw up. How did this box of tampons get here before you did? There is only one logical explanation and you don’t dare to even think it. With a pounding heart, you bend down and grab the box (it was surprisingly not wet), not quite accepting the fact that someone must’ve left them here. Someone who knows that they are yours. Someone who knows who you are. Someone who knows where you live.

Dabi snickers as he watches you hurry inside and close the door. He wasn’t able to see your face upon the realization but your body language spoke volumes.

His turquoise eyes linger on the front door for a couple more seconds before he slowly makes his way back to the hideout. But he then and there decides that you need some more action in your life. After all, he shouldn’t be the only one to have fun. For today you are safe though.

He’d be back soon enough and have all the fun with you in the world.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi #todoroki touya #todoroki touya x reader #dabei x reader #stalking #commission #littlesniggy #mha #mha bakugou #female reader #dabei x female reader #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha x reader #long time no see

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