#‘i noticed most of you have not turned in the assignment. Reminder that it must be in tonight by midnight. God bless!’

[thecorpseinthisbed]

no i am not a woman yes i sometimes call myself a woman bc i am one god bless <3

#trans #non binary #dude literally just give up on gender it’s so great #like identity meh i’m kinda just here feeling things #my physics teacher last year ended every email and google classroom post with god bless and i kinda love the energy #like 5 seperate people would email her about a problem with an assignment and she’d ignore all of them and then post something like #‘i noticed most of you have not turned in the assignment. Reminder that it must be in tonight by midnight. God bless!’ #like it was horrible at the time but that’s kinda an energy i want to replicate #anyways #screaming into the void #mine

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (1)

Meeting The Maximoffs

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

Meeting The Maximoffs

The sound of the bell rang around the room, Professor Stark in front of the first row, reminding everyone in the class to have completed the assignment by Monday before returning to his desk, fingers moving to type away at his keyboard, presumably writing an email about the assignment as people were flooding out of the door, his words falling on deaf ears. You made a mental note to complete the task before grabbing your backpack from the ground, quickly placing all your books and notes away before hurriedly leaving the room and the college campus.

The sound of directions filled your earphones as you looked down at your phone, the screen displaying a map with a blue line to lead you towards your destination of the house you were going to be babysitting at. Your gaze flickered between the screen and your surroundings as you stepped off the bus after thanking the driver, your mouth parting when you turned the corner your phone told you to. The street of houses here had you looking at them in awe, the area clearly wealthy judging by the houses that you felt should be referred to more as mansions.

Your feet carried you to the intended house, your hands nervously putting your phone away and fixing your outfit a little before ringing the bell of the large house. While waiting for someone to answer, your fingers fidgeted with one another as you were unsure of what to do.

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a tall blonde man with striking blue eyes dressed in professional attire, a soft smile that was definitely not genuine covering his face as he offered his hand out to you.

"You must be Y/n," you took his hand, shaking it briefly and trying not to grimace at his firm grip while nodding at his words.

"Yes, that's me sir," you say, noticing how he appreciated the formality, "You must be Mr Jarvis?" He nodded his head and moved to let you into the house, you follow behind him while your eyes scanned the hallway.

A smile took over your face at the sight of a photo of two young boys, both grinning ear to ear in the photo as they were dressed up in Halloween costumes, one in a sky-blue jumper with silver lightning bolts running across it, the other in a navy jumper and red cape flowing behind him. Your eyes flickered over to another photo this time of the two boys and a woman but before you could look any more at it you heard your name being called from another room.

"So," Mr Jarvis started, "I'm not sure how much you have discussed with my wife over the phone, so I'm going to cut to the chase and make sure we're both happy with everything." You sat opposite the man, listening attentively to what he was saying, a little shocked by his forwardness though. "You are to look after the twins, make sure they do any schoolwork, keep them entertained and feed them," the way he was speaking made you think it was something rehearsed, something he didn't actually care about but had to make sure was done, "Be in bed by nine if neither of us are home and that's pretty much it. It will most likely be Monday to Friday as my wife and I both work, and you will need to be on time as my work only lets me out to pick the boys up from school to bring them home. We'll pay you in cash afterwards."

"What time will I need to be here for you to go back to work?" you ask, praying that it fits with your class schedule.

"By four at the latest," he looks down at his watch, noting the time and standing to grab his suit jacket that was draped over the sofa. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work," your eyes widen at his words and follow after him.

"Wait, I'm starting now?" you practically blurt out, your nerves doubling every second he continues to get ready to leave the house.

"Yes," he answers shortly before walking to the bottom of the stairs and calling the twins down, "Tommy, Billy, come down here." The sounds of feet running down the stairs fill your ears as you see the two boys from the photo come into sight. "This is Y/n, your new babysitter so listen to her and behave," he ruffles both of their hair, one of them seeming to not like the action, before turning back to you. "Any issues, call or message Wanda," with that said he makes his way out of the house, the sound of the door shutting echoing inside your head.

At least you were good with kids... right?

With a nervous expression, you look at the boys who have smiles on their faces, pure excitement emitting from one of them, the other clearly more timid than his brother. You crouch down and give him a comforting smile, tilting your head to the side as you smile at the other.

"I'm Y/n," you offer the more confident brother your hand, his smaller one taking a hold of yours and shaking it a little too enthusiastically making you laugh.

"I'm Tommy," he says, teeth showing as he seems to like the idea of having a new babysitter. "This is my brother Billy," you give a soft smile to Billy who gives a small one back.

"Well, how about we have some fun now we've got the house to ourselves," your tone is playful, both of their eyes lighting up at your words.

"Can we be ninjas?" Tommy rushes out, your eyes widening once again. His brother laughs at your shocked and equally confused reaction.

"I..uh.. Sure, we can be ninjas if we want to," you chuckle out, "But after we play, we have to do our schoolwork." They both groan a little, but you raise your eyebrows at them, making them giggle at the fake serious look you were giving them.

An hour ago, if someone told you that you were about to play ninjas with two nine-year-olds you would have simply laughed in their face, now look at you. "Do you want to be a ninja too Billy? Or do you want to be someone else?" His face lights up at your question, your heart melting a little at his shyer nature.

"I can be something else?" He looks to his brother who is already doing karate moves in the air, your gaze following his and mouth tugging up into a smile. You nod at him and wait for him to think of something he wants to be. "Can I be an astronaut?"

"Of course you can," your tone is cheery, and you stand upright, mirroring the position Tommy was in. "So, we have a ninja and an astronaut, what's the first plan of action for tonight?"

"We have to sneak into the living room and defeat the bad guys!" Tommy exclaims, taking his role seriously and crouching down, slowly creeping towards the room. You copy him, watching as Billy also mirrors the action, and gradually make your way into the living room. You have to hold back your laughter when Tommy and Billy both check the corners of the other doors in the house before they leap into the living room. Billy doesn't fight as many bad guys as Tommy, the latter slicing his palm through the air and punching imaginary figures. "We did it!" he cheers, face beaming up at you as he goes to high five you.

"We did," Tommy looks proud of himself while you turn to his brother, "Now, I think it's time for a mini trip to space for our little astronaut over here."

Moving to the middle of the room, the boys either side of you, you bring your hand up to your mouth in the shape of a radio. "Pshhht, this is your captain speaking," chuckles fill the room with the voice you put on as well as the awful static noises you try to make. "Are we Psshhhht," another set of laughter, "Are we ready for take-off?"

"This is astronaut Billy saying he's ready," he says, eyes full of joy while he looks up at you. Tommy also says he's ready and you put your captain's voice again.

"Taking off in 10...9...8...7," the twins joining in with the countdown.

"6...5...4...3...2...1!" At the end of the countdown, you lift Billy off the ground, swaying your body around with him earning a squeal of surprise and excitement. You place him down after a little more flying through space, his brother pretending to steer the spaceship.

"And that concludes our space mission," they both pout a little, trying to make you guilty for ending the fun so soon.

"But we never flew back to earth," Tommy counters, you just shaking your head at them.

"If we all do our schoolwork then maybe we can fly to another planet then back to earth," you reason, the twins practically sprinting to go and get their homework. You sit with them at the table, pulling out your own work to do while they start theirs.

You want to say many, many things about the work Mr Stark gave you to do but refrain from saying them due to two little people sitting near you. Your pen scribbles word after word for your assignment, your gaze occasionally flickering over to the others to make sure they are doing their work and understand it.

"Y/n?" you hear Tommy say, "Can you help me with my maths question?"

"Of course I can," you move your chair so it's next to his, your eyes searching the paper for the question. You notice he's doing fractions and wish your work was like these fraction questions instead of an entire essay on science theories. After a few minutes of explaining, a flash of realisation and understanding washes over his face while he tries another question on his own.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention, your eyes checking your watch to see that it's just gone half five. You wait at the table with the boys who haven't seemed to notice someone's home until she walks in.

Your mouth parts slightly at the sight of the woman, no, the goddess that just walked into the room. A smile that could brighten any room, mesmerising green eyes that practically enchant you and auburn locks cascading down her back with a few framing her face adorns her perfect figure, your mind lost for words at the beauty of this woman. The boys rush over to her, hugging her and letting her lean down to press a small kiss to their foreheads before turning all of her attention to you. The expectant look on her face suggests she asked you a question, making you flush at the intensity of her gaze.

"Uh... pardon?" you say, embarrassed from being too captivated by her to listen. She simply smiles at you, nose scrunching at your nervous state.

"I said 'You must be Y/n, the new babysitter," there's a slight teasing in her tone as she repeats, "It's lovely to finally meet you face to face."

"You too, Mrs Jarvis," you awkwardly say, Tommy and Billy going off to watch Tv as they claim to have finished their work.

"I actually go by Miss Maximoff," she corrects politely, "And no need for formalities, call me Wanda, dear." The way her words have a slight accent to them has your face flushing even more, especially at the term of endearment. "I hope they behaved for you," she says, her head looking over her shoulder at her boys sitting on the sofa, engrossed with the cartoon currently playing.

"They were perfect for me Miss Ma-" Her eyes look over at you, eyebrow raised, "Uh Wanda." Your flustered state must have amused her as she let out an angelic laugh, your mind desperately wishing to hear that sound again. Your gaze travelled to the twins, your mind replaying the surprisingly fun afternoon you had. Stuck in the memory, you don't notice the way Wanda looks at you, an undecipherable glint in her eyes before her words break you out of your thoughts.

"Well thank you for taking such good care of them and somehow managing to get them to do their work," she jokes out, before reaching into her purse to find some cash to pay you. She offers you £50 and your eyes widen at how much she's giving you.

"That's way too much Wanda," you say in disbelief, you would have been happy with £10 never mind fifty. "I only looked after them for two hours," she shakes her head at you dismissively and takes a hold of your hands, placing the money there. You're too busy trying not to panic at the feeling of her hands on yours to stop her from pulling away.

"I can already tell they love you, so please take it," her eyes hopeful that you won't try and refuse once again. "Consider it a starting bonus," she argues, and you open your mouth in protest but close it almost immediately after as you can't think of anything to say to make her change her mind.

"Thank you," you say, looking up with an extremely grateful expression, "This really means a lot to me." You see the questioning look in her eyes and avert your gaze to your watch to see the time. "Um, I'll be going now if that's ok?" you move to the table to pack your books away, trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of her eyes on you.

"Yes, that's fine dear," when you turn you see a soft expression on her face and silently thank her for not pressing any further. "Billy, Tommy, say goodbye to Y/n," she calls, and the boys come rushing towards you with wide eyes.

"But we still have to go to another planet," Billy says, Tommy nodding his head along to what his brother says.

"And we need to get back to earth," Tommy adds, your heart clenching at the worried expressions on their faces. You look over to Wanda who just has a confused but entertained expression on her face. You move closer to them, Wanda even more intrigued by what was happening.

"Pshhht this is your captain speaking," they giggle at the static noise again, Wanda letting out a chuckle at your fake voice, your cheeks flushing as you look back at her. "Mission to Mars will happen on Monday, Pshhhht and mission back to Earth will happen afterwards," the worry washes from both of them at the promise of continuing the game before they rush over to hug your legs.

"Goodbye Y/n," they both say, then walking back to the sofa as you pull your backpack on and walk towards the door with Wanda close behind.

"Thank you once again for taking such good care of them," her voice is gentle as she holds the door open for you.

"It was honestly no problem, Wanda," you step out of the house, turning back to her before leaving properly, "They're amazing kids, you should be really proud of them." A small tint of pink covers her cheeks at your words

"Get home safely Y/n," her fingers brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I'll see you Monday."

You watch as she shuts the door, a smile on her face, and start to walk down the drive, whispering a small 'See you on Monday' to yourself as your mind fills with thoughts of a certain woman.

---

The journey begins...

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #eventual smut #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel fanfiction #babysitter au #slow burn #fluff #so much love #so much fun #wanda fluff #tommy maximoff #billy maximoff

[weebswrites]

Lucifer x GN!MC - Lucifer's First (wc: 1788) I saw a post saying that there's no way the bros are anywhere near the level of dominance we typically write them as during Nightbringer bc they literally Just fell from the Celestial Realm. Unless you're telling me Michael let them fuck there is no way any of them have done a single act of sin so I will be taking my darling Lucifer and we will be having our first kiss (and more in a reblog soon) thank you very much

Reluctantly, Lucifer had agreed to have lunch with you. You'd been asking for days - subtly, of course (at least to you).

This was the demon you were in love with. You'd shared long nights together completing paperwork and assignments side by side, as well as nights having the best sex of either of your lives. Being sent back in time was tearing you apart. You missed the Lucifer that held you as you fell asleep after a long day, even when he had a mountain of paperwork with a looming deadline. The Lucifer that knew your favorite tea, that walked you back to the HoL after school every day. You missed the way his lips would brush yours, hesitating for just a moment before kissing you with a passion you knew was incapable of description. You missed what came after that.

But you knew, and Solomon had spent days reminding (and consoling) you, that this was not that Lucifer. It was weird. You knew things about him that he didn't, that he wouldn't for centuries to come. It felt like you had to carefully plan each thing you said, as to not reveal you were from the future.

Despite all this: the secret knowledge, the memories yet to be made, and the growing urge you had to throw yourself into his arms, you wanted more. To be in a room with him, even having to be so mindful, was better than nothing. So finally, after days of bargaining, here you were. Seated across from the love of your life in his office, food and hot tea between you.

You found yourself getting lost staring at him. It was during one of these moments when he finally addressed it.

"MC. I know you've been very enthusiastic about having this lunch, but must you spend it staring at me?" he put his tea down and looked back at you, "Surely you have something you want to talk about..."

He was clearly giving you the space to talk, and not acknowledge the staring, which you gladly took.

"Oh! Yeah, I was actually wondering," your brain was moving so fast you thought he'd be able to see the gears turning through your eyes. "If you'd heard anything from Diavolo about the school?"

Lucifer's gaze remained unchanged, and almost as if he was waiting for you to say more.

"He said he wants it to educate the demons that live here, right? How would he decide who'll teach? And what to teach?"

Lucifer sat back in his chair a bit, a sign you knew meant he had something important to say. You mirrored the action, bringing your tea cup with you.

"He's been wondering the same thing, actually. With no previous and consistent forms of education, how do we decide who's qualified to teach? His thought so far is...us."

You couldn't hide the shock from your face. There was no way you could teach; you weren't even a demon! Luckily, Lucifer kept talking before your thoughts could spiral.

"Don't worry, I put a quick stop to that" he said, clearly having noticed your panic. "His next thought was asking friends of this father's if they'd be willing. They don't all have the most progressive attitude, but he thinks some of them would definitely be give it a shot. So that's our start. He was going to update you at the next official meeting."

You thought for a second before responding. You didn't know much about the intricacies of RAD's founding, something you wished you would have done more research on now that you were here.

"I think that's a good idea. As long as we go to the right people, or demons, first, we should have a strong backing for opening the school."

Lucifer nodded, "I agree. We can work on that list of demons not people at the meeting" he smirked to you as he lifted his tea cup, sending a fiery blush to your face. The rest of lunch consisted of small talk, you asking questions to 'learn' more about the eldest brother, and him giving basic responses. He asked a few questions about your history as well, which surprised you more than it should have. He did fall in love with you, too, after all.

"Well, I have paperwork to get to, if you don't mind I'd like to be alone now"

You smiled, "Only if you'll walk me to the door"

His eyes met yours before his smile joined it, and the two of you walked to the large wooden door of his office.

"Thanks for agreeing to this, Lucifer, I appreciate it"

"It wasn't nearly as...boring...as I thought" he half-teased.

You laughed at his honesty, and he couldn't help but crack a smile too. Your eyes met, and your heart ached. It was in moments like these when you wanted nothing more than to feel the strong safety of his arms. In an instant, your brain replayed the nights of loneliness you'd spent here, wishing for any ounce of Lucifer to help you fall asleep.

Before your brain was fully back from the memories, you were on your toes, leaning into Lucifer and wrapping your arms underneath his. His body stiffened, but you couldn't have pulled away if you tried. He smelt the same as he did in your time, and you felt more at home than you had since the moment you suddenly found yourself here. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his shoulder, and after a few seconds, you felt his arms wrap around you too.

You let out a breath into his chest, and like on cue, his arms tightened around you, returning the hug.

"Lucifer" you whispered into him, trying to memorize everything about this moment.

"I don't know why I feel so...drawn to you, MC. But I do. It's the first thing I've ever been unsure of."

You pulled back a bit to look at him, both of your arms still intertwined around each other.

"Even when I rebelled against Michael, I knew it was the right thing to do. It was what I believed in, and even knowing the chaos it would cause, I knew I had to do it."

You looked into his eyes, trying not to let tears well as he opened his heart to you. It was rare to talk about his falling in your time, so his willingness to confide in you was a moment that struck your heart.

"But you. You come out of nowhere, and are so invested in my life, and my brothers' lives. Why? I don't get it, and I don't get why I feel so compelled to let you. To accept you into our new home and let you form bonds with each of them," he paused for a moment, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes, "To let you form a bond with me."

You kissed him. His words filled your heart with such pure emotion, you didn't know how to express your love and gratitude in anything except a kiss. So you leaned in, softly pressing your lips to his as one of your hands moved to his hair.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, tensing again in surprise. But his hands tightened around your waist, and he didn't pull away. You kept your lips pressed to his, and in a moment, he returned the kiss.

It was nothing like the Lucifer from your time, but it was Lucifer. His kiss was messy and he struggled to match what your lips were doing. This was unexpected, but then it clicked. He was freshly fallen from the Celestial Realm. He'd probably never kissed anyone before. Or at least not much.

You smiled against him, and he kissed your smile. "Lucifer" you whispered, and he opened his eyes to look at you.

"Lucifer, was that your first kiss?"

For the first time outside of the confines of the bedroom, you saw him blush. The tops of his cheeks turned a light pink, and his eyes quickly fell to the floor.

His lack of immediate denial was answer enough, and you gently raised his chin with your index finger and thumb and brought your lips together again.

It was smoother already, him matching your rhythm quickly, hands holding you close. He moaned into your mouth at the same time you moaned into his, the mutual desire becoming clear.

"MC" he whispered against your lips, "I..."

He trailed off, unsure of what to say or what to do.

You wanted to pour your heart out. To tell him everything that had happened, and about the memories the two of you would one day make. But Solomon’s voice popped into your head, and you knew that would only make things worse, so you took a breath before talking.

“All I know is that kissing you is the only thing I’ve been able to think about since I got here,” you laughed a bit embarrassed, “But I realized just now that this is new territory. I don’t want to rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but-”

He kissed you before you could get another word out. It was a single kiss, and only on about half your mouth, but it made your heart do a backflip nonetheless. “MC, I am terribly out of my element. You’ve clearly done this…had a relationship like this before. And I haven’t.” You were amazed at his honesty, but his Pride was something he’d learned to put aside for you in the future. Maybe he was already learning how to do it here, too. “I hadn’t thought about kissing you. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about kissing at all until the moment your lips were on mine. But now, I know it’s all I’m going to be thinking about.”

His eyes held yours, as if waiting for you to finish his thought.

“You’re a demon now. Your body might want things that it hadn’t as an angel, and your mind might not like that” you cringed at how much you sounded like a middle school health teacher, but persisted, hoping it would help Lucifer feel more at ease. “I’m willing to do anything you’re comfortable with. And we can learn along the way.”

Equally as embarrassed as you, he smiled. “Thank you. I’d like to kiss some more, if that’s okay.”

You had to restrain a laugh, the mental image of the Lucifer in your time seeing the Lucifer of now was something you’d definitely be telling him when you got back to the present. But for now, you cupped his face in your hands and nodded, leaning in and kissing him again.

–

A/N: PART TWO WILL BE UP AS SOON AS I’M DONE WRITING IT!! no v cards will be taken but things will get steamy >:)

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #this takes place in the nightbringer world #a wee bit of angst at the start #but mostly comfort #slow burn? #Lucifer's first kiss #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer hc #obey me lucifer x mc

[nanabansama]

Ao Oni, Aka Oni

Hey guys! Since AidaIro just graced us with art to celebrate Setsubun, I wanted to take the time to examine the meaning behind the masks the characters are wearing. This'll be quick and informal, but I hope some of you get a kick out of it, like I did.

The men here are participating in a bean throwing contest. If you don't know, Setsubun is about throwing beans at oni/ogres to drive them away. Doing this can free you of your negative desires and emotions. Of course, since most people can't find an oni or ogre to throw beans at, they usually settle for throwing them at someone in an oni mask instead. (Sort of feels redundant for Hakubo, hm? Hehe.)

However, I must say, this is my first time seeing a showdown like this...but boys will be boys, am I right?

You may notice that the blue mask team currently outnumbers the red one, but don't worry! It seems our other red team participant is just having second thoughts...

Now let's turn our attention to the masks. I'll go over the girls first since I have the least to say.

These masks are called "Okame" or "Otafuku." They depict a happy, fat-faced woman in bright white makeup. It symbolizes happiness and good fortune. You'll see it at a lot of Japanese festivals, including Tanabata. Just looking at it brings a smile to your face, right? Right!? (I hope so!)

Next we have the red and blue oni masks! Setsubun being a holiday about driving away ogres, and all, these fit more with the overall Setsubun theme. It's said that, depending on the color of ogre you hit with a bean, something good will happen to you.

In the case of a red ogre, your evil thoughts (such as desire, lust, and greed) will be dispelled.

In the case of a blue ogre, you will rid yourself of anger and become happy.

I must say...Tsukasa and Natsuhiko representing anger while Hanako and Hakubo represent desire is pretty on the nose!

But that's not all. There's one last tale I wanted to share, one that centers upon a crybaby red oni and his little blue friend...

Naita Akaoni (The Red Oni Who Cried) is a piece of children's literature that dates back to the 1930s. It tells the tale of a red oni who wanted to befriend humans, but when the humans refused to play with him, he grew depressed. Seeing this, his friend, a blue oni, suggested a plan: the blue oni would attack the human village and let the red oni defeat him so that he could win the favor of the locals.

Although the red oni wasn't sure about the plan and felt bad about making his friend do all that for him, the blue oni was adamant to see it through. And when they reached the village and put the plan into action, it went off without a hitch. By defeating the blue oni the red oni finally got to befriend the humans.

But while the red oni finally got what he desired, something bothered him. His friend, the blue oni, hadn't come to see him once since the day of their plan. When the red oni went to the blue oni's house to find out what was wrong, he found a note on the door. It read:

The red ogre silently reread the note once, twice, three more times, then began to cry...

The end! 👹😢

What a sad story, right? While I can't say whether AidaIro considered this story when assigning masks to the characters, the blue ogre's selflessness certainly reminds me of Tsukasa, like when he sacrificed his life for Amane's. And we all know Amane is a crybaby!

Thank you for reading! And I urge you to read more about Setsubun if the holiday interests you. I'm sure there's more you could learn about it than just this post that will give you a greater appreciation for AidaIro's drawing. Have a nice day, everyone!

#jshk #tbhk #setsubun #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shonen hanako kun

[bangtanficsforyou]

They Reject You (Hyung Line)- Part Two

A/N: Tumblr finally allowed me to put gifs!!!!!! Also, if you find Yoongi's and Namjoon's part short, that was intentional. I wanted to keep the suspense till the third part, which is gonna be the last one for hyung line 😉. Hope you enjoy!

Jin

You have been avoiding Jin. Why? Because even though you're an adult, you feel embarrassed and hurt and don't know how to deal with the pain. You can't just bring yourself to suck it up and pretend that you're fine. Worst of all, pretending does not work with Jin. He just knows.

Just like how he knows that your excuses of why you won't be able to meet up with him, are just that; excuses.

Initially, he was fine with it, knowing it's normal for anyone to want their space and time. But as days went by, his discomfort kept increasing. His urge to just wrap you in a hug and never let go kept intensifying. Most importantly, there was this urgent need to apologise for not knowing what to say to your confession.

The confession had indeed caught him off guard but even then, you deserved better than a jumble of words. He can only imagine how terrifying it must be for you, someone he knows to be an overthinker, to confess to him. He knows you must have analysed and played every scenario in your mind before letting the words slip out. He also knows that confessing must have been the last option for you.

Which is why his words before and after your confession, make him feel angry at himself. But then he didn't know any better, did he?

However, now he does.

After a whole month of you ignoring him, dodging his calls and not responding to texts, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

Standing outside of your class, he patiently (impatiently) waits for the bell to ring, so that he can finally talk to you. When the bell does ring, he straightens and stands there watching as slowly people start to leave.

After a while, he spots you with a friend, chatting animatedly about something.

The sound of your name leaves his lips and your body freezes. You take a deep breath, before turning towards him and greeting him with a small smile.

By the look on your face, he just knows.

He knows that you want to greet him enthusiastically, want to go on a rant about your physics professor, want to be the casual and carefree version of you with him. But your eyes tell him, that you can't bring yourself to be.

He returns your smile and you know that he's aware of your emotional turmoil. You feel your heart ache at the thought of it.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" He asks in a timid voice that does not sound like his, at all.

You contemplate for a moment before nodding with a soft smile and excusing yourself. When you step towards him so as to not block the entrance, you take notice of the way he fidgets with his fingers. Your fingers itch to take a hold of his, but you know you shouldn't. You shouldn't allow yourself to feel his warmth because you know your heart will desperately hope for his comfort to mean more than it does. For you to have him in ways that you now know, you can't.

"How have you been?" His throat bobs as the words leave his mouth.

"Eh, you know exams and assignments, nothing new," you shrug. "What about you?"

"Can't really say fine," he replies with eyes that shine with words and emotions he can't express. Your features soften at his response. You know this isn't easy on him either.

"I'm sorry for making things messy–"

"Don't you dare say that," Jin's firm voice cuts you off.

You mentally scold yourself for your heart skipped a few beats at how kind and loving Jin is. It only reminds you why you need some time away from him.

Sighing, you give him a tender smile. "I know this isn't anyone's fault but it's still difficult for the both of us. But I just need some time to move on, just till then?"

You see the way Jin's eyes reflect both pain, longing and understanding. "Can I get a hug, at least?"

A part of you immediately feels the need to say 'no' to his request. You don't want to feel his warmth. You're scared it would ruin any progress that you have made. But then you really do want to hug your best friend because you have missed him.

This is why folks, you should not fall for your best friend. Too much drama.

Making a quick decision and choosing not to overthink any further, you embrace him in a hug. A surprised gasp leaves Jin's lips, which is soon followed by a satisfied sigh and arms wrapping around you.

The smell of your shampoo evades his senses and his eyes close automatically, as he basks in the familiarity and comfort that comes with you. Fuck, he missed you.

His nose gently snuggles against your hair and he takes a deep breath and he wonders what it would be like to wake up next to you, like this. All snuggled up, you in his arms and his nose buried in your hair. However, the thought is gone when he realises the suddenness of it.

Where did it come from?

He does not get enough time to gather his thoughts as you gently part from the hug and sigh. For the briefest of moments, his eyes drop to your lips and he feels a weird sensation in his body.

"I'll have to leave for the next class," you keep your voice soft knowing how tender the moment is. Or maybe it's your heart that's tender.

He, however, does not know how to respond. His mind feels all fogged up and he feels frozen. All he comes up with is a nod and he tries to look as sincere and in the moment as he can so that it does not worry you.

When you turn around to leave, his eyes linger on your retreating figure and he

feels his heart scream at him to go back into your arms and to never let go.

Yoongi

Y/N: Hey, can we raincheck? I've got a meeting to attend.

Yoongi looks at the screen and sighs. Well, if it isn't the fourth time that you have cancelled. Something that makes it pretty obvious to him that you're doing everything in your power to avoid him.

He knows it's because of what happened on the last date. Thinking back on it, he thinks he hasn't been as honest with you as you have been with him.

Well, technically, he did say the truth. But then when the truth isn't explained, it can often be misinterpreted. Which again is his fault and he knows that.

He knows that he kind of wasn't able to express his exact emotions (because when has he ever been able to do that), but maybe you should not just straight out ignore him like this.

It makes him feel guilty about his words.

He wishes he had worded it in a better way. Wishes, he had told you that he wasn't expecting to get married this soon and that he could not let himself relax into the idea of getting married.

But then anyone would be shocked if they were to wake up one day and realise that they are getting married to someone they don't even know properly.

It's not like he didn't know that this is how it was going to be. He just didn't know that it was going to be this soon. He just assumed that it would be somewhere in his late thirties. Definitely not in his twenties.

Yoongi: Are you free tomorrow?

Now, that is very different from the 'okay' he usually sends you. This might also be the first time he has let it show that he too, wants to meet you.

Your response comes to him after ten minutes.

Y/N: I don't think I will be free till next week.

Well, then.

Yoongi: so the week after?

He responds instantly.

Y/N: I'll have to check my schedule. I'm not really sure.

Yoongi's frustration gets the better of him.

Yoongi: Can we please just meet up and talk?

The words on the screen stare at you causing nervous butterflies to fly in your stomach. The butterflies are, however, soon followed by a sinking feeling when you realise what meeting up would mean.

Somewhere, somehow you'd have to address what happened during the last date. You, confessing to him and then him telling you that he does not feel the same.

Every time you recall that scene, your mind and heart, hurts. It makes you pity the situation you both find yourselves in.

It also makes you feel guilty that despite not liking you, he has to marry you. It makes you feel as if you're trapping him in a lifelong bond when he deserves better. Not to mention, how your minimum expectations might always remain fulfilled. How can they be met when there is no love?

Time stops when you suddenly have the realisation that both of you deserve better. You deserve to be married to someone you love. Yoongi deserves to be married to someone he loves and wants. You both should not have to wake up next to each other and feel like the relationship is a chore.

Fuck, you can't get married to him. You need to do something.

But you know there's no way either of you can talk yourselves out of this arrangement by simply talking about it to your parents. But there has to be some way.

Maybe you and Yoongi will be able to come up with an idea, together.

Y/N: a meeting of mine got cancelled.

Y/N: I'm free tomorrow.

Namjoon

Namjoon has a lot going on right now.

Exams, assignments, projects. These things in themselves are tiring. To add to that is the emotional turmoil he is facing. He has to pretend that he's not feeling guilty as fuck in front of his best friend as if he didn't just crush the said best friend's sister's heart, a week ago in the middle of a party.

And even though it's been a week, your words still haunt him. The look in your eyes and the way you looked so broken yet angry. All because of him.

He also can't believe that you had to watch him with other girls on more than one occasion. He does not know how you managed to pretend that everything was fine and went as long as you did, without snapping. He honestly has no idea how you did it but he's glad it's done. Now that the cat is out of the bag, things should be fine with time.

His line of thought is proven to be wishful when he walks inside Yoongi's dorm and notices you standing there.

You look just as caught off guard as Namjoon feels. However, after a few moments, you school your features and pretend to be nonchalant towards his presence and focus your attention solely on Yoongi.

"Yoongi, did you find the book? I'll have to leave for my class," your voice breaks the silence, making Yoongi look at you.

Namjoon does not know if he should be grateful for Yoongi's presence or not. On one hand, Yoongi being here is a good thing because that way you and Namjoon aren't alone in the room. On the other, Namjoon is sure Yoongi can feel the way the atmosphere turned tense from the moment of his arrival.

"I told you, I'm looking for it," he grumbles in an annoyed tone. "I swear I kept it on the table."

Yoongi misplacing things isn't new at all. But what is new is how his sister and best friend remain silent instead of making fun of him.

You and Namjoon when together, are usually a pain in the ass for Yoongi, always teaming up against him whenever the chance arises and him forgetting where he keeps his things, is sure, one. But today, there seems to be no intention of pulling his leg. If the two of your body language weren't weird enough, this behaviour surely is and makes it obvious to him that something is wrong.

However, what he has no idea. But he thinks it's none of his business. You both are adults and if there's something wrong, you two should be able to solve it on your own.

Looking around for the said book a little more, Yoongi huffs. A huff that conveys his frustration and the fact that he's about to give up on his search for the object.

"Go to your class, I'll find it by today," his next words confirm this.

You roll your eyes to let him know that you're annoyed but not surprised. "I need it by today, don't forget that."

He waves his hand in a dismissing tone. "Got it. Now shoo."

You collect your belongings and leave the room without paying Namjoon any further attention. Your refusal to acknowledge his presence hurts him in a way that has him itching to reach out to you. But he knows he can't do that. Not after everything.

However, after your departure, the silence that he is met with is even more suffocating. It's one of those silences that Yoongi allows to linger to allow Namjoon to talk if he wants to. If not, that's fine too.

Namjoon decides on taking the opportunity and chooses to be honest. Because he does not how long can he go like this without having an outburst. "I need to tell you something."

"Go on," Yoongi replies with a shrug as if he did not see this coming.

Hoseok

You and Hoseok have remained friends.

Initially, it was quite difficult for you. Your mind couldn't help but come up with scenarios where he reciprocated your feelings and you two were happy with each other.

But since that cannot be the case, you had to move on. And what better way to move on, than registering on a dating site, right?

So, that's what you did. You opened a tinder account and went on dates. After two catfish cases and four failed dates, you finally found one guy you liked. Someone, who's your type and someone you can hold a genuine conversation with.

Although, the two of you are not in an official relationship, yet. You'd like to think that you are headed there. Slowly but gradually.

You two are at a stage where you both can talk about anything with each other like friends do but at the same time flirt, kiss and go on dates. It's just perfect and light.

Which is why you didn't think twice before asking if he would like to join you as your plus-one, at a friend's birthday party. That way you would get to introduce him to your friends and vice versa.

Much to your delight, he seemed excited at the prospect of meeting your friends.

Which leads you here, in the middle of a club, with your close group of friends and Henry.

After some time of dancing and swaying your hips to the beat, you decide to head to the bar to get yourself a drink to quench your thirst. It's when you are waiting for your drink that you hear the sound of your name which causes you to freeze. It's not so much about your name being called, rather it's about the voice that called your name.

"Ho-Hoseok?" You stutter the name out, genuinely surprised to find him here.

"Hey," he smiles at you with the same amount of surprise and glee. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a friend's birthday," you reply, trying to relax your features and return his smile. "What about you?"

"I'm here with Jimin. Just wanted to have some fun for the weekend," his voice gets a little louder when the music turns into a more upbeat one.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, another figure approaches the both of you. Jimin.

He, too, looks pleasantly surprised to see you. "Y/N! Did not expect to see you here."

"Jimin!" You exclaim, now feeling some of the discomfort evaporating. "Everyone's idea of fun weekends really has come down to alcohol huh?" You tease lightly.

"To be fair–"

"Y/N?" An arm comes to rest on your back and you recognise the voice to be Henry's.

Shit, this is going to be awkward.

Now that Hoseok and Henry are right in front of each other, you find yourself feeling anxious about how the whole encounter between them will go. You know that you have to introduce them but how do you introduce Henry to Hoseok?

Most importantly, you don't want to give away the impression that you're dating Henry solely, to get over Hoseok. Because although it might have started that way, gradually you did find yourself developing a genuine interest in Henry.

You turn a bit to focus your attention on him and soften when you notice the concern in his eyes. He must have come looking for you, after noticing that you were taking so long.

"Henry, this is Hoseok and Jimin." You introduce him to your two friends. "And guys, this is Henry."

As Hoseok shakes hands with the said man, he can't help but take notice of the palm that still rests on your back. It somehow gives off the impression that there's more to the two of you than just friends. Don't ask him how he knows that, he just does. Maybe it's because he's a social butterfly and has interacted with way more people than he can count or maybe it's because he's a dancer and has a good read of people's body language.

"Hoseok is my dance trainer, that's how we became friends." You add hoping that that much information is enough and that you'd not have to elaborate on how you and Henry know each other.

"Ah right, babe! I remember you mentioning your dance classes." He then turns to Hoseok with a genuine smile on his face that shows that he's delighted to meet him and put a face to the name.

However, you wince internally at the use of the name. Shit, you think that the usage of that term is pretty self-explanatory and also, embarrassing. At least, in this context.

The word does not escape Hoseok's attention but he chooses to ignore it.

"Care to tell me what she says about my dance classes? I'm a sucker for authentic feedback," he jokes in hopes that he still has his bright smile on when in reality he feels confused and has no idea how to navigate this situation.

"All good things, I assure you," Henry says, with a small chuckle.

"And for Jimin, he is a friend of Hoseok's and that's how we became friends," you complete your introduction and pray to whatever higher power there is, to not make things any more awkward. Although, you're sure you're the only one who's feeling the awkwardness of the whole situation.

"Tsk tsk," Jimin tuts, pretending to be disappointed. "Tell him how you know us, but don't tell us how you met him. I see how it is."

Oblivious to your discomfort, Henry lets out a small laugh at your friend's teasing. "Let's just say we met by chance and clicked."

Jimin lets out a low whistle. "That tells me you two are not just friends."

At this, Henry's brow furrows a little in confusion. He thought these two were your friends. Do they not know that the two of you have been dating for some time?

He looks at you in concern when he realises that Hoseok and Jimin might not be a part of the friend group you are here with. That maybe, you meeting these two here was purely by chance and maybe he has run his mouth without checking whether you feel comfortable with them knowing or not.

His heart sinks when he realises that you have an expression of unease on your face which confirms his suspicions.

Not knowing what he can do to let you know that he's sorry, he settles for squeezing your hand. And it does give you enough comfort and courage to answer Jimin's question.

"I guess you can say so," you say with a shy chuckle. Because how else is someone supposed to respond to the question?

Jimin, thankfully looks elated at the revelation. "Damn, that's cool. I'm glad for the both of you."

Hoseok does not know what to say so he simply nods. Loads of questions and thoughts run through his head. One of the main things he finds himself wondering about is whether this Henry guy treats you right or not. However, he knows that he is not in a position to ask that.

So he watches. Watches and tries to decipher if this guy is any good for you. He is aware that it's quite wrong to judge the guy when he's meeting him for the first time but that awareness isn't enough to stop him.

Much to his delight (or dismay), this Henry guy does seem to be someone genuine. Which stirs another kind of discomfort in Hoseok's stomach. A feeling he realises, he can't quite describe and hence, chooses to ignore it.

"How long have you two been dating?" Jimin asks and a part of Hoseok mentally pats Jimin on the back for asking the question.

"How long have you two been dating?" Jimin asks and a part of Hoseok mentally pats Jimin on the back for asking the question.

"A few weeks," you take your ordered drink and take a sip. The lightly sweet taste greets your tongue and helps your jaw muscles relax. 

Any further questions that Jimin might have, remain unasked as you notice your drunk friend wildly waving her hand in the air, towards your direction to get your attention. When she notices that she has your attention, she motions you to come to the dance floor all too excitedly.

You smile a little at your friend's antiques and make a note to thank her later for saving you from this situation. Lifting your arm a little, you wave back at her.

"Brie is calling us. We should get going." You inform the two guys in front of you. "See you later?"

Jimin and Hoseok both nod with smiles, not wanting to hold the two of you back any longer.

With a drink in one hand and Henry's hand in the other, the two of you bid your goodbyes.

Hoseok looks at your linked arms and there's a feeling he does not want to name. He tries to play it off by telling himself that it's just him being a protective friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Although, he does not know if his denial is because he isn't brave enough to face his emotions or because it is the only choice he is left with.

Whatever it might be, he hopes that alcohol would somehow manage to take these thoughts away from him and hopefully, he will forget all about this encounter when he wakes up tomorrow.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you want early access to part three or you enjoy my writing and wish to support me, consider subscribing to my patreon! 🤗💖

#Jin x Reader #Jin angst #Jin fluff #Jin best friend au #Yoongi x Reader #Yoongi angst #Yoongi fluff #Yoongi arranged marriage au #Namjoon angst #Namjoon x Reader #Namjoon fluff #Brother's best friend au #Hoseok x Reader #Hoseok angst #Hoseok fluff #Dance instructor Hoseok #BTS reactions #BTS fic #BTS scenarios

[oxittocin]

Hey oxittocin I was wondering if you could write Robin who turned into a child , but is still 30 or 28 (witch ever age u choose) and gn reader has to stay with her while the rest of the crew are looking for a solution to cure her, and maybe add just a little fluff....please

peace (nico robin x reader)

nico robin masterlist

thank you for the idea! here you go, my friend - i truly hope this does your request justice :") i must say, i am not very confident in my ability to write (especially fluff) so i hope this adequately satisfies.

cw: gn!reader, age reversal

What is peace to a pirate?

There had never been a dull day since you boarded the Going Merry. The Strawhats had a knack for attracting the most troublesome opponents, a trait you attribute to the reckless nature of your captain. One day, you’re stuck in the middle of saving a whole kingdom from political instability, and the next, you find yourself toe-to-toe with a God who wields lightning itself.

Peace was never an option to begin with. Still, merrily, without an ounce of hesitation towards the everyday hazards of pirate life, the crew remains ever eager for the next thrill - A hunger for danger so ferocious that it is comparable only to your captain’s appetite.

A life of peace, you suppose, had been thrown out the window the moment you decided to join the Strawhats.

————————————

Peace in a life of piracy is a mere farce. The calm before the storm, if you must.

Take today as an example.

Sanji had only just served breakfast before the first sign of danger had struck. What better way to start the morning than an intruder on the Thousand Sunny?

Robin had been the first to spring into action. A flick of her wrist was all it took to summon dozens of hands, wrapping around the limbs of the assailant in an attempt to incapacitate them.

That was the first mistake.

A flash of pink was all it took. When your eyes finally adjusted to the blinding light, Robin was already on the ground - noticeably smaller and shorter in size, a look of confusion gracing her features as the many hands holding the assailant down disappeared.

Robin looked…younger?

“The Modo Modo no Mi. It returns you 12 years younger. Do not let it touch you.” Nami warned the rest of the crew - aptly stopping Luffy before he threw a reckless punch towards the assailant.

There was a brief pause amongst the crew, uncertainty rising - How exactly do you attack without making physical contact?

The hesitation proved costly, as you see the assailant charging up for another attack. Instinctively, you flung yourself in front of Robin, tanking the next wave of pink energy.

You grimaced as you felt the sharp pain in your back from the impact. Your muscles burn as you feel your body physically shrinking.

Ah, to be 12 again.

————————————

“It’s peaceful, huh? Real quiet without the troublemakers around.” You offered Robin a shy smile as you took a seat next to her on the wooden deck.

Robin hummed in agreement, before turning to face you, “Thank you for taking that last hit, or I would be 4 instead of 16 now.”

Being the only two Strawhats who had their ages reversed, you and Robin were assigned to remain on the Thousand Sunny whilst the rest of the crew chased the assailant down.

“I can’t believe you were already this tall at 16, and I also don’t remember being this short at 12.” You grimaced, looking up at Robin.

“Even if you were your original age, I’d still be towering above you at 16.” Robin stated plainly. To be fair, there was nothing but truth in her statement. Still, seeing your disappointed pout, she chuckled, summoning a hand to pat your head gently, “If it brings you any comfort at all, I’d never have imagined 12 year old you to be this…adorable.”

“Adorable?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nico Robin, might I remind you that I am a wanted pirate?” You said, hint of pride in your tone as you puffed your chest in an attempt to look scary.

“Adorable, like an angry chihuahua.” Robin teased.

You let out a “tsk”, eliciting another giggle from Robin as you playfully punched her shoulder.

“You know, I shouldn’t have shielded you. 4 year old Robin might have been less annoying than 16 year old Robin.” You grumbled. “And I’d at least be taller too," you added pettily.

An arm materialised on your shoulder and you felt a small tug on your ear.

“Ow! Robin! Not fair!” You cried out.

You hear her gorgeous chuckle again and you can’t help but smile. Despite the chaos surrounding your life, moments like these remind you of how content you are to be out at sea, surrounded by the people you call friends, and most importantly, alongside the wonder that is Nico Robin.

“Do you think we would have been friends at this age?” You asked sincerely after a moment of silence.

“Well, I’d still have been on the run at 16.” She said softly.

“So, probably not?” You asked.

“Probably not.” She answered, with a sheepish smile.

“But still, I wish I could have been in your childhood.” You say anyway, “I’d follow you around.”

“Like a chihuahua?” She teases once again.

You roll your eyes as you shook your head, “Wouldn’t you want company?”

A brief silence fell upon the conversation before Robin spoke up, “It’s a life of hiding and running. Would you still say the same if I could never give you peace back then?”

Peace. A state of contentment and comfort. Stability, even. Peace is oxymoronic to piracy, yet, sitting here with her, it feels like it’s all you’ve ever known.

Just short of telling her that she was your peace, you responded without missing a beat, “What is peace to a pirate?”

#one piece #nico robin #nico robin x reader #one piece x reader #nico robin x y/n #nico robin x you #x reader #talking shit

[puppy-t337h]

EXULANSIS - I

GHOST X READER X SOAP (COLLEGE AU)

AO3 LINK - OTHER CHAPTERS

CW: DEPPRESSION, PTSD, RECREATIONAL DRUG USE, ALCOHOL, COLLEGE PARTIES, ONE NIGHT STAND, MAKING OUT, READER USES SHE/HER PRONOUNS, JEALOUSY, (ACCIDENTAL) HOMIE HOPPING

~~~

Douche.

Would be the word you would use to describe your next door neighbor.

You aren't one to hate people—not without first being provoked, at least. In fact, you usually actively went out of your way not to…hating people for things they said and did before their brain was even fully developed was always such a strange concept to you.

You had better things to do, anyway, than to spend time out of your day thinking about other people, most importantly unpleasant ones. Avoiding conflict like the plague got you through highschool and now—mostly—university. You were very protective of your quiet.

Moving day was the day you first met one of them. You didn't live in the dorms, instead opting for an apartment complex close by inhabited by many other senior students. It was quieter, and the rooms were bigger—the only downsides to it being rent and the commute you had to make back to campus for classes. They moved in the day after you did—and you only noticed after bringing home yet another box of belongings you had neglected in your car. It was late. You had procrastinated long enough.

Of course, he was in the hallway, moving his things into his apartment exactly twenty-three minutes before the semester began.

He was a brawny guy, slightly taller with a tasteful mohawk and kind eyes. Scottish. He was polite enough face-to-face; the kind of guy who was sensible on his own but seemed to lose ten I.Q. points whenever he was under the influence of his friends—carrying on in the hallway and moving four to five boxes like it was nothing. Broad arms corded with veins and littered with little scars…not that you were looking.

“Dropped this,” were the first two words he said to you, waving—to your complete horror—the bluejay stuffed animal you’ve had since you were ten. He had the biggest grin on his face, like he had just caught wind of one of his friends’ deepest, darkest secrets—and in some ways he had. A few other people on the floor turned to look at his declaration over their boxes as they navigated through the narrow hallway, drawn by his foreign accent. You were mortified for more reasons than one.

Immediately, his energy strikes a cord within you.  Something about his smile, his face, brings back memories that sting like hell.  Maybe that's why you hate him---because he reminds you of a past you can't go back to.  A person you can't go back to.

You swiped the stuffed animal from his grasp and stuffed it back into the massive box you balanced on your knee, muttering a strangled: “thanks.”

“Sure you don’t need any help?” Mohawk continues, padding after you a few steps. The request is genuine—you think—but it has that mocking undertone to it that sets off all the alarms in your brain that said he was, in fact, a total douche.

“No, thank you,” your back hits your apartment door and you kick it open with your foot, shuffling inside. “This is the last box.”

He stares after you for a moment, then shrugs and waves you off—opening the door across from you. He has something in his hand—a dog bowl, maybe—but not once does he shed that smug smile.

“Suit yourself, Birdie.” He says.

Birdie. The audacity of this guy.

For the first week or so, nights were peaceful. Or…close enough to it. School starts up as usual and, just like normal, you find yourself holed up in your apartment catching up on assignments you neglected to do until the last minute. The first month or so of school gets to you in that regard---too used to hearing voices of anothers in your space; a facet running, laptop typing, voices speaking. The lonliness is the worst part, you think, but the easiest to adjust to. Whatever angry God above must have heard your anxious thoughts about the quiet because, low and behold, that peace doesn't last long.

Your neighbors like to blast music. Loud. Why nobody else on the floor seems to complain about it is beyond you, but you can hear it loud and clear through the thin walls of your enclosure—shitty metal ringing muffled through the drywall.

Annoying, but not particularly malicious.

Since then, you've only caught glimpses of Mohawk and his roommate after the incident in the hallway; across the dining hall, carrying on at welcome week parties, and only occasionally in classes. Exchange students from Europe, some people say. Others say they're narcs of some kind. More say they don't even attend classes here at all and just show up for the frat scene every now and again which—honestly, would be believable. They’ve managed to wrack up quite the reputation across campus despite it only being a few weeks into the semester. Or, at least, Mohawk has...with blurry fights recorded on Snapchat and tales of hook-ups, flirting, and hilarious drunken rants from your more outgoing friends.

You’d pass Mohawk—or, more commonly known as Soap, for some reason—in the hallways sometimes or catch him in the elevator—occasionally with his roommate, who was an enigma. He stood a little taller than his Scottish friend with sandy hair, a stubble, and dark, concealing clothes. A hood was pulled over his head as he scrolled through his phone—a stark constrast to Soap who stuck to his usual t-shirt and shorts combo. You didn't realize the stranger caught you staring until your gaze raked up to meet his cold eyes already looking at you; piercing straight through your heart like a particularly sharp piece of ice. You immediately avert your gaze.

Fucking weirdo.

Halloween was the next time you had a substantial conversation with either of them—not that that day in the hallway or in the elevator could be considered substantial at all. You didn't initially plan on going out, but after a long-winded argument with a couple of your friends insisting that you take a break and live a little, finally, you cave. You need to let loose, anyway—feeling far too confined within your small apartment and seemingly endless statistics assignments. Maybe social interaction would help you get out of your funk.

Iota-omega-gamma something or other, the three symbols atop the giant house you're dragged to stare back at you as you clamber to the entrance. The inside is bustling with energy, Halloween costumes from niche internet references to the classic witch, vampire, and zombie catching your sight everywhere you look. You've gone a bit over the top—you will admit—with intricate skeleton makeup painted across your face and a tight black dress to boot.

You're a few drinks in whenever your friend group starts mingling with others, laughing and disappearing into the lights and the music and the people. The air stinks of today's beer and tomorrow's regret mixed with a tinge of marijuana that has long since made its home in the drywall; and you're tipsy and staggering to the backdoor. It's exaggerated, of course, all elbows and hands as you bump into your friends, laughing and talking over the noise as you look for somewhere quiet to regroup.

That's when you bump into him—quite literally. Chest to chest, your head hits the bottom of his chin, sending you reeling before his large, gloved hand grabs your wrist; steadying you. His drink spills, watered-down beer splashing against the floor.

"Sorry, sorry," you pull your hand free. Your gaze meets a shitty skull, painted over a balaclava. Grinning, you point to your own face. "Skeleton, right?"

He blinks—eyes piercing, familiar. His hand slides from your arm, noticeably shaky as he shoves it back into his pocket. His face is hidden, but the rest of him is ripped; in a tight black T-shirt and dark jeans, one arm blackened with a faded sleeve of tattoos.

"Ghost, actually," he corrects.

"But that's a skull."

"What about it?"

"Damn, sensitive," you huff, tilting your head at him as if that would help you see him better. Fidgeting, brow furrowed, eyes averting–-he's tense, for some reason, and with your latest psych assignment still fresh on your mind you recognize small signs of distress immediately. "You good?"

"Peachy," he mutters. His voice is gravelly and foreign—almost a growl—sticking out like a sore thumb against the music and the dancing and the laughing of your peers. He goes to shrug past with some lame excuse of: "just here for some friends."

You raise an eyebrow. "Some friends you got…ditching you at a party."

He sighs long and heavy, simply nodding before going to walk off towards the front door of the frat.

You don't know why, but you stop him.

"Wait," you grab his arm. "Let me buy you a drink."

He blinks, eyes narrowing.

"Why?" He draws out the word, his tone almost sounding suspicious of you—like he suspects you have ulterior motives.

"'Cause I spilled yours and bumped into you and I'll feel like shit if I don't replace it," you ramble, tugging him along before he has the chance to say otherwise. "C'mon. We'll find your friends."

Easily two-hundred pounds of muscle, he could pull free and you almost expect to lose him in the crowd—but he doesn't, letting you tug him along through the lights and the people for reasons unknown to you. He seems hesitant at first, resisting a little at before stumbling behind you; sticking out like a fish out of water in the sea of college students that surrounded you. The kitchen, thank God, is devoid of people other than the occasional student drifting in for another drink. For now, it's quiet, the sound of music and people slightly muffled from around the corner—and you swear your new acquaintance visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping and breath slowing, proving your theory right.

"Not a party person, Ghost?" You observe, plucking his cup from his hands again and turning to the counter. "People don't generally come to frats just to linger in corners."

He scoffs, "'Just got somewhere I'd rather be."

You hum, nodding. "Homework?"

He shrugs and crosses his arms indifferently as he leans back against the door. You feel his gaze on you as you turn away, and you don't think it's left once since you’ve met. You don’t think he realizes you can see his eyes through the skull mask and eyeblack. "Something like that."

You hum in acknowledgement, handing him his drink. "I was dragged here, too, if it's any consultation."

He hesitates, but takes it. "You don't seem too upset about that."

"I'm not. I needed a break," now it's your turn to shrug. You look away. "But, y'know, school comes first."

He huffs, loosening up more little by little as he lifts his mask up past his nose to take a long drink. You smile as he loosens up a bit.

"School comes first," he repeats, without an ounce of genuinity. It has you chuckling a little and, friends forgotten—you take to talking to the strange, gruff man you've encountered.

You learn a little about him. Like how he hates beer, and hates parties; but he believes they make eachother bearable. He’s from England; Manchester, to be more specific. An exchange student who needed a “change in scenery” and decided to travel abroad with a few buddies.

“So you came here?” You chuckle, “the middle of nowhere?”

“Wanted to be somewhere quiet.”

“Well, sure, but I highly doubt this school is on any program in fucking England of all places. Nobody goes here.”

He chuckles at that, for some reason; a low, rumbling sound that makes his broad shoulders bounce. He reaches over to grab his drink from the other end of the table and his sleeve rides up past the muscle in his arm. His pale skin is scarred to hell; with a few different kinds of scars dotting his thick arms.

Weird.

Everything about him is strange—contradictory. He hates parties and drinking, but he’s here anyway. He’s built like a brick wall but seems to tense every time he hears any sort of loud noise or anytime anything brushes his skin. His hands are calloused to hell. You couldn’t quite figure him out, but you think maybe that’s what draws you to him—the psych student in you absolutely fascinated.

Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Ghost doesn't seem happy you've latched onto him, but he allows you to drag him around just the same; returning your banter in a way that makes you grin. You think, maybe, he's doing it for the bit—you are matching, after all—but he makes no effort to shoo you away when you cling to his arm, and he stays close in the crowd; asshole friends forgotten. A few drinks in and you have him chuckling louder, steadying you when you lose your balance doing something dumb, talking, and joking like you've known each other for years—despite it only being an hour or two.

Finally, you’ve gotten him to loosen up.

Before long, you're both tired and you find yourself mingled into his group after he finally finds them again: a strange but charming combination of students including but not limited to another, friendlier Brit and—...oh, for fuck’s sake.

Your neighbor.

He's dressed as a zombie, you think. Honestly, he could be anything—shitty fake blood splattered across the front of a torn, white t-shirt and old jeans; quick and just as low-effort as his friend. The mohawk is messy and it looks as if Ghost took some of his eyeblack and smacked him with it; long lines drawn messily across his face.

"There he is!" The Scottsman slurs, nearly spilling his drink on his taller friend as he clumsily lays his arm across Ghost's shoulders. "'Thought you finally got tired of us."

"I did," Ghost grumbles. "But considering Gaz looks like someone fucking pepper sprayed 'em it looks like I'm on baby-sittin' duty instead."

Soap's eyes flicker to you as Ghost shrugs away your hold on his arm. The Scottsman grins, and suddenly it's you he's slouched against, and your heart jumps into your throat from the physical contact.

"See you've finally met Birdie, huh? Told ya' you'd enjoy it here if you gave it a chance."

"You!” you snap, shoving him away. "You’re the dick who keeps blasting music!"

"Aye! That isn't me! That's your fuckin' grim reaper friend over there---Jesus."

Ignoring his friend's jab, Ghost raises an eyebrow and turns to you as you wrestle with your opponent. "Birdie?"

"She's the lass I told you about," Soup juts a finger in your direction. "The neighbor with the bird stuffie."

Your face goes red. "Okay, douchebag, why don't you just announce it to the whole school since you're so fucking fascinated by it?"

Soap laughs, because of course he does. Loud, clear, and unapologetic---it strikes a nerve in you, lighting a familiar fire in your gut that makes anger coil in your chest, through no fault of his own. "Well…feisty. 'Gonna introduce me, Ghost?"

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Ghost seems to shut down again—any ounce of playfulness you've forced out of him vanishes. He grunts, ducks away, grabs another shitty beer from a nearby cooler and flicks it open. He throws himself across the couch lazily before gesturing to Soap. "This pain in the arse is Johnny; Soap."

Then, he juts his thumb beside him where a rather confused-looking man with a baseball cap finally gets wind of the new person in the room, "Gaz."

Then himself;

"Ghost."

"Soap?" You repeat. "Fuck kind of a nickname is that?"

Gaz is the one who speaks up then. "It's 'cause he can clean out a room of armed hostiles faster than—"

"Thaaat's 'nough," Soap lays his hands steadily on your shoulders and you freeze up, slightly, as he guides you to sit with him and the others. He's inviting you to stay. Maybe it's the alcohol, but your cheeks feel warm and you hate how your stomach twists. “Ignore him. Video game talk.”

Grumbling, you stick with who you trust yourself with—sitting yourself next to Ghost who wordlessly passes you his beer to sip from.

If Ghost is tipsy and you’re drunk; Soap is wasted, stumbling over words, swearing, and giggling. You hate to admit it, but he’s a fun drunk—ditzy and crazy without being too out of control. Good looking, too, with a nice smile and a laugh that lights up the room. A smile that looks like his. Meanwhile, Gaz is perfectly content to linger, laughing at all the dumbassery the others pull with you—taking hits from a pen that sits on the side table every now and again and explaining a few inside jokes to you here and there.

Maybe they aren’t as insufferable as you thought.

The night continues on in a blur of lights and music. Your friends have left at this point, and you’re sure your makeup is smeared and your hair tousled—but you carry on anyway. You’re drunk. Wasted, even…irresponsible for the first time since being a teenager and the feeling is fantastic. You should probably take it up with your therapist—your habit of working yourself to death just to crash land into the ground in a flurry of lights and chaos, suddenly unable to do anything but chase that feeling of euphoria that comes with not caring.

You're too distracted to notice how late it is.

Too distracted to care about homework. Or class the next day.

Too distracted to notice how Ghost disappears. Too distracted to notice how the lines between past and present are blurring---and you're leaning a little too close to the Scottsman that reminds you of your late lover. Too distracted to realize that Soap has an arm around your waist, whispering to you, holding your drink, holding you—lifting you so easily up onto the back of a couch. Just as he always did. Soap smiles so bright up at you, and all your mind can see is his face; bright and happy and carefree---and you have to smile back.

You're too distracted to fully realize you never hated him---and that the cord of coiled self-hatred in your gut snaps as your resolve crumbles through your fingers.  You'll feel like shit for indulging in this later---in reliving memories where you were actually happy---but for now it felt like you were seventeen again, before you had to worry about a thing.

You realize how close you both are—giggling near a corner as he teases you with yet another beer. Your head spins with the static of the same alcohol you taste on Soap’s breath as he makes the same realization that you do; that all you had to do was lean in a little closer to kiss his lips. It’s almost like he can read your mind, because a smirk suddenly twitches onto those pretty lips of his as he stares up at you through his lashes. His strong arms tighten around the small of your waist. Warm. Secure. Just like he used to.

Suddenly, you see why he's the talk of the school.

“Careful, Birdie,” he whispers, suddenly stone sober as he smirks at you and God, do you want to wipe the grin off his stupid, douchey face.

You scoff and despite yourself---you're shamelessly looking at his lips. "Or what?"

"Or I might start thinkin' you want to kiss me."

“Do I?” You're still staring at his lips, tilting your head to feign cluelessness. "How do you know you don't just have something in your teeth?"

He chuckles, smiling. His fingers ghost your cheek and the other grazes against the bare skin of your thigh at his side—calloused, scarred hands gentle and feathery; but practically setting fire to everywhere they touch.

"I'll take my chances," he breathes against your lips—teasing, as he looks up at you, hazey and distant. His hand traces up the curve of your hip. "If you'll have me?"

Something in your stomach dips, and before you realize it fully, you’ve guided his face up to catch his lips in yours. It's soft, at first—gentle and hesitant, even—but your hands slide up his thick shoulders and the side of his neck and he seems to melt a little into the gesture.

The rumors are true, because he's good. His hand gropes your bare thigh, teasing at the edge of your dress as his breath gets heavier, pulling you off the back of the couch and out of the view of the public. He's rough, but attentive—breath fluttering across your face as he presses himself flush against your front. The button of his jeans catches the edge of your dress and his breath stutters with your own.

"Been thinking about this since the day ye' moved in, fuck…" He breathes near your ear, his accent and the alcohol making him damn near indecipherable as he presses kisses on that space behind your ear. You lean your head back against the wall with a sigh as his lips migrate down, past your jaw and down your neck.

"Since moving day?" You stammer dumbly.

"Since moving day," he confirms in a whisper.

God. So have you.

"If I do this…" You breathe, reaching up to grasp at the top of his mohawk as he nips your neck—earning a small grunt from him. "You stop blasting music at three in the damn morning."

"Deal," he doesn't hesitate, planting lazy kisses across your neck.

"My apartment or your's?"

"Mm…your's," he slurs. "Something tells me the roommate wouldn't be thrilled 'bout this. Only if you're sure, though, 'Cause if you're too drunk—"

"Jesus Christ, stop talking," you say, pulling him flush against you. Soap hisses at the contact, pressing his hips to meet yours as you kiss him once again—making him forget about the lights. The music. His friends…and whoever might be watching.

Across the room, Ghost's fist tightens around a can of shitty beer.

He watches his friend's hands grasp your waist, tight and sure of himself; hands calloused and rough from years of work and tan from the sun. He watches you smile into the kiss and he watches Soap bite your lip, your lipstick smeared on his face. The same lipstick still stuck to the edge of Ghost's can—gripped by pale hands littered with ugly scars and nailbeds raw from biting; hands a little too big to hold comfortably. He thinks about how soft the skin of your arm felt against the pads of his fingers, how you smiled at him the same way earlier…and God, does he miss being sure of himself. Being confident. He could take another man's life like it was nothing, but one smile and a kind gesture from a stranger and suddenly he's crushing a beer can in his fist—clumsy and unsure of himself.

Jealous.

Simon, for a long time, didn't think he was capable of the feeling. Not until recently. Not until the shift into civilian life had left his mind reeling and confused while his friends seemed to fit back into it like like an old glove. Simon didn't know people---didn't like them. He had never known peace before this, and it doesn't sit right with him.

He likes you because, he thinks, somehow…you carry that same feeling of restlessness with you—that feeling of displacement. A flicker of empathy in your gaze that tells him almost telepathically that you're not like the others. Clumsily navigating through life…running from something. Trying and failing time and time again to feel better—though nothing feels right.

How else could you have known he didn't want pity, just understanding?

He likes to think that's why you stuck by his side. He likes to think maybe you felt that same connection he did, that same solidarity. But, clearly, he was wrong—another thing that didn't used to happen before, but now has become the new normal.

Simon drops his can in the trash, shakes the foul liquid from his shaky hand, and leaves the party through the back door just as you and Soap leave through the front—giggling and stumbling your way back to the apartment complex.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty fanfic #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader

[comicarc]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Part 1

wc: 1833

365 Days After That Night

Jason Todd was the Red Hood. Jason Todd was a criminal. Most of all, Jason Todd was a murderer, for he murdered the only remnant of love I had left in my soul. He was my breaking point. 

It’s been a year since the night he left and though I tried my hardest to bury his memory in my mind, his recent headlines made for incessantly annoying reminders. Though the ghost of Jason’s lacking presence haunted me every day, I was able to suppress those thoughts. Luckily, my job at the Gotham Gazette came with a considerably generous salary, often encouraging me to forget all the undesirable aspects of the job, including him. 

Tonight, I was staying late at the police station, waiting for my interviewee, Dick Grayson, to arrive from Bludhaven. He had been working a case on a notorious serial killer who had recently broadened his horizons and began to kill in Gotham. He was the only one overseeing it, thus, taking note of his busy schedule, I had set up an appointment weeks prior. Though he was already an hour late, I decided to wait, for an opportunity like this may not come as easily again.

I sat at his desk, resting my head in the palm of my hand and darting my eyes across the room to cure myself of my boredom. One particular photo caught my eye as my gaze trailed to the framed pictures on the desk. Dick was with a younger, lively boy, posing for their photo in front of Wayne Manor. Curious, I inspected the photo closer to notice that the other boy had azure eyes and curly black hair, just like–

“–Ah, I see you’ve taken an interest in my brother, eh? It’s my favorite photo from when I was still living in Gotham.” Dick had finally made his entrance.

“Detective Grayson,” I said, surprised by his voice. 

Sitting down he asked, “You must be y/n? I’m sorry for arriving so late, the route from Bludhaven to Gotham is always littered with traffic.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” With that, I began my questioning. It eased into a conversation the deeper we dove into the topic until eventually a few hours had passed and Dick had to head off to another crime scene.

“Before you leave, may I ask…which of your brothers is that? I’ve only heard of two others and they seem to be too young to have been in that photo when it was taken.”

“Jason Todd. He kinda of fell off the face of the Earth on his enlightening retreat, so almost everyone forgot about him. Now that he’s back, he's done well to stay out of the spotlight.” 

To ask more questions would be to intrude on his personal life, and so, tempering my desires, I quickly left.

Jason Todd was Red Hood, a criminal, a murderer. And a liar. 

4 Days Later

Days passed, giving me barely enough time to digest the information that Dick had given me. After some of my own research, I found that Jason was alive and well. The night he left me was the night he reunited with his family. The very family he claimed to hate…he left me for them. 

Now sitting in my cubicle at the Gazette, my thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, for my feelings for Jason had begun to resurface. I longed to see him, to hear him to be with him. But I couldn’t blame him anymore, for my fantasies led me to break my own heart. I wanted something that was never there, and I had to accept that. I shook my stupid ideas away as I looked at the whiteboard across the room to see my next assignment. My stoic expression turned into one of horror as I read: “Y/n → Wayne Gala”.

I rushed to the chief editor’s office and begged to be reassigned, but all my pleas were in vain because no one else was available to cover for me. Begrudgingly, I went back to my desk and looked down at the invitation that was put on it. The bold letters embedded at the top of the card were as searing as a blade, for they sliced my heart into a million pieces. I went home immediately, for I had very little time and a lot to do to prepare. 

Jason would be there as well and I wanted to catch his eye to make him feel jealous and regretful for leaving me, but for that, I needed a statement dress. Thus, I decided to head to a nearby shopping plaza, to spend as much money as I could on a dress that I would never wear again, all for a man that may not even remember me. 

After a successful trip, I roamed around the plaza in search of a light snack before getting ready for the night's festivities. Wandering my eyes, I caught sight of a familiar man on the other side of the nearly empty area. Walking closer to clear my suspicions, I recognized him to be the one and only Jason Todd. 

He was with another woman who seemed to be a thousand times prettier than her. Her gorgeous red hair was tied in a high ponytail and fell down to her hips, her lean figure resembled that of a model, and her face seemed too proportional to be true. She was perfect. And she was kissing him on the cheek. The sight made me want to cry out right then and there. He had moved on. 

Later that Day, in the Evening

As I made my way through the entrance doors entranced by the beauty of the domain, I was welcomed by a breathtaking display of opulence and extravagance, transforming the Manor into a realm of sheer elegance. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings, casting a cascade of shimmering light across the grand ballroom. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of Gotham's history, each thread telling a story of wealth and power. Exquisite floral arrangements of velvety red roses and ivory lilies graced every corner, their intoxicating fragrance mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet that filled the air.

Guests, dressed in their finest attire, moved gracefully through the lavishly decorated rooms, their laughter and whispered conversations creating an enchanting symphony that resonated through the space. A grand staircase, adorned with a crimson carpet, beckoned guests to ascend toward the upper levels, adding an air of regal grandeur to the soirée.

In the heart of the ballroom, stood Jason Todd. He was a magnetic presence, a striking figure that effortlessly drew the eye. Dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his lean and muscular frame, he appeared both rugged and refined. The dimmed lighting highlighted the chiseled lines of his jaw, the shadow of stubble giving him an air of mysterious allure. His dark, tousled hair framed his face, adding to his rugged charm. His piercing blue eyes were like sapphires in the night. He moved with a confident grace, his every step commanding attention and admiration from those around him.

He was so captivating that I continued to stare until his gaze locked onto mine. For an instant, the world around us seemed to fade into obscurity. It was as if time itself had stopped. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, a hint of regret, and a trace of something deeper, something that mirrored the tumultuous history we shared. It was a gaze that carried the weight of our past, and in that moment, I knew that the night held more secrets and emotions than I had ever imagined.

Stop. I’m imagining things.

I focused my mind on the task at hand, to distract myself from him. My every move was meticulous, like a well-rehearsed dance. My professional demeanor was unwavering as I discreetly took notes on the evening's proceedings, capturing every detail and nuance of the event. I engaged in discussions about Gotham's elite, current events, and the philanthropic endeavors the gala aimed to support. All the while, my smile remained fixed and my words carefully chosen, masking the emotional turmoil that raged beneath the surface.

Suddenly, in the midst of conversation, Jason's warm and inviting hand gently wrapped around my wrist, guiding me away from the bustling gala and into a secluded garden nestled within the sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor. 

The garden seemed to come alive under the moon's tender caress. The moon was like a radiant pearl in the inky sky, spilling its ethereal light through the dense canopy of trees, creating an enchanting interplay of shadows and soft, silvery beams. As we stood, the night's gentle breeze carried the fragrance of blooming flowers, adding a layer of sensuousness to the charged atmosphere. 

Before Jason could utter a single word, my pent-up emotions, like a dam bursting, spilled forth with a hiss of anger and hurt. “What the hell? Who the hell do you think you are?” The words tumbled from my lips, carrying the weight of a year's worth of unanswered questions and unresolved feelings. 

Jason stood before me, his expression a complex interplay of emotions. His eyes, once piercing and intense, now held a hint of regret and remorse. In the stillness of that moonlit garden, the unspoken words hung heavy in the air, waiting for the right moment to find their voice and bridge the chasm that had grown between us.

“It’s Jason…remember.”

“No.” All I do is remember.

“You’re my best friend.” 

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t know anyone named Jason.” 

“What the hell is going on with you? Why can’t you remember me?”

“You’re the one that needs to remember.”

“What?”

“Remember that night? It’s been a year and you’ve clearly moved on. I’m glad you got your happy ending with a girl even prettier than me. That begs the question…why even talk to me with the intention of leaving again?”

“Y/n, I–”

“–Save it. I can’t do this anymore.”

My rapid footsteps echoed on the cobblestone path, and the sound of my heels clicking with every step rang in my ears. I paid no heed to the gasps and whispers that trailed behind me like a ghostly chorus of judgment. 

In my haste, I collided with a solid figure, and the impact sent a shiver through my frame. I looked up, and it was none other than Dick Grayson, his eyes a curious blend of mockery and amusement. In my agitated state, I only heard his attempt at humor as a blade deepening the wound that had been freshly reopened.

This gala was a set-up, a trap and I fell face-first into it. But, it did allow me to realize something. 

Jason Todd was Red Hood, a criminal, a murderer, a liar. And a fool for thinking that I may ever love him again.

#batfam #dc comics #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dick grayson #angst #song fic

[creedslove]

a headcanon with dave and reader where they accidentally meet maybe in a cafe?idk, they End up in a relationship and then reader finds out dave is marrried, she gets upset, she end things and then dave ends it with his wife to be with reader😭😭😭 im so delu about that man

Dave York x f!reader

A/N: I gotta be honest anon, Dave is slowly becoming my biggest addiction because he is so perfect and I love him sooo much 😭😭😭

• it was just another trio back home after another excruciating mission Dave York was assigned and paid very well to take another man's life

• in the beginning, he was always eager to go home and see his family, after all, they were the reason why he did all of that, so he could have enough money to provide them

• he loved his beautiful girls to death, they were the most important thing in the world for him, but he simply couldn't stand Carol anymore

• he didn't know exactly when their relationship started to fall apart, but it was likely when she began nagging him about every single thing, complaining about his business trips, about having to take care of the kids, driving them around all the time and the fact that Dave didn't earn much money according to her, even if she had a huge house, two brand new cars in the garage and stupid expensive clothes

• she was just so ungrateful he couldn't stand being around her anymore

• just as she couldn't stand being around him either

• and that was when they decided to get divorced

• they were technically separated, still living under the same roof while the official paperwork wasn't ready, besides, the kids weren't aware of it, still too young to understand which caused them both to act as if nothing had happened

• including keeping their wedding rings on around them, but they'd always come off as soon as the girls were out of sight

• and that's how you met Dave at the new cafe downtown

• he was standing in line in front of you, absent-mindedly waiting until it was his turn to order, getting his coffee and turning around and bumping into you

• it was both a miracle he hadn't spilled hot coffee on you, and also extremely odd Dave - who always had great reflexes - ended up colliding against the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen

• but it turned out as a good thing, because that gave you two a reason to talk and get to know each other a little bit better

• so one coffee became one exchange of numbers, that became a date and that went on until you realized you were in deep for that handsome mysterious man

• you knew he had two daughters, was separated and worked for the government which meant he couldn't talk a lot about his job

• but he seemed to be in love just as you were in love with him

• still, his time was pretty divided between you and his daughters and you absolutely respected that and understood it, which made you admire him even more

• you decided to take your dog for a walk in the park one Sunday morning, Dave told you he wouldn't be able to see you that day and you knew he would be with his daughters so it was a pretty sweet coincidence to spot Dave himself along with the two small girls just a few meters away from you

• he hadn't noticed you, being so focused on helping them control their balance and not fall from their bikes and proud to see them being able to ride it with not much struggle

• you watched the scene from afar, enjoying to see what a great dad Dave was, it made your heart warm and it even made you have a delusional moment of picturing yourself having a child with Dave

• the scene was perfect, until a brunette woman walked in, towards Dave and handing him a bottle of water, the girls immediately cheered and shouted "MOMMY!" excitedly and you felt a pang in your heart

• you reminded yourself you couldn't panic, he knew he must have been co-parenting his daughters with her so perhaps they just had the habit of spending time together, that was until the woman wrapped her arms around his neck and the girls giggled happily, at the display of affection given by her parents

• and the moment Dave took the water bottle to his mouth with his left hand, you were able to spot his wedding ring

• you gasped as you stood there shocked; it had been too good to be true, of course he was lying: he was married and having his fun with you, while you'd been too stupid to fall in love with him

• as the small family walked away, you could only drag yourself back to your home, locking yourself in and crying your heart out

• and the next few days, Dave called and texted but you ignored all of his attempts of getting in touch with you, you decided you wouldn't that lying cheating man the time of the day

• but of course he went after you, wanting to know what the fuck had happened so you would completely ghost him like that

• and when he literally broke into your apartment and waited for you, you two got into a heated argument, you accused him of lying and cheating on his wife, talking about the family scene you'd witnessed

• while he tried defending himself by saying he was just acting that way because the girls didn't know anything about it yet

• you didn't believe him, and above all, you were hurt, so even if his words were true, it didn't matter, you had broken up with him right there and then

• and Dave was pretty upset too

• he didn't think he would take that breakup that hard, he had no idea you were that important to him until he had lost you

• but that also made him realize he needed to make a decision and face his fears

• so in the weeks he'd been away from you, he managed to talk to Carol and then have an honest conversation with his daughters, explaining to them he would always love them no matter what

• after some crying things seemed to be falling into the right track, but there was still something he needed to do

• he went after you, finding you at the same cafe you'd met and it took you a lot of convincing to follow him to some place

• on the way, he explained to you how he never lied and he was already separated from Carol but they still shared the same house, which you only listened to but didn't say anything

• he parked in front of a building and took you to an apartment, showing him it was his new place and there was something else he wanted to do in front of you: sign the divorce papers

• he assured you he was starting a new chapter in his life and he really wanted you to be a part of it

• you couldn't resist Dave, jumping into his arms you kissed his lips, after all, he was divorced now

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanons #pedro pascal headcanon #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x y/n #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york headcanons #dave york headcanon

[twistedgardens]

Show Me Your Teeth, Part 2

Friendly reminder that I post horny bullshit. If you are a blank blog, minor, or porn bot, do not interact with this post. This includes "liking" this post. Please respect my boundaries. Now, without further ado...

Happy Birthday Leona!

Content: Yuu ends up watching Leona sleeping, Jade and Floyd being utter menaces, teasing, nibbling, neck biting, suggestive language/dirty talk, semi-public, fingering

(I'm fully aware that Leona is over 18, but for funsies Night Raven College is set a traditional university. Other characters are aged up appropriately because I say so, even if Leona is the only one getting his dick wet. Deal with it.)

🔞NSFW Content Below! 18+ Only! Minors DNI!🔞

You wiped your brow with the back of your head. The campus greenhouse was unusually warm and humid today. Jade was having a field day monitoring and tending to his mushrooms on the other side of the greenhouse, which was unfortunate because he was your assigned lab partner for the day. No matter. The assignment didn't involve magic, so you could fend for yourself.

The classwork should have been easy even for you. It was to take cuttings for seven different plants and dissect them, recording your findings, and to the best of your ability draw the plant sample of before and after. Even without Jade's help, you could do this much on your own. It took most of the class period to finish the task, but at least you had something to turn in. The sketches were...passable. It was just a good thing that the professor wasn't grading on art skill.

You happened to look up from your classwork to find Leona napping beneath one of the greenhouse's great trees. As usual. You couldn't help but stare at the lazy housewarden snoozing and felt bad for whoever his partner had been. Leona had the audacity to plop down in the grass with his white lab coat still on. Did he not know how bad grass stains were to get out of white clothes or did he just not care? You turned in the assignment as soon as possible to the professor. When you glanced behind your shoulder, Leona was still there, napping under a tree.

Quiet as a cat, you approached his sleeping form with caution. Leona laid on his back with one arm tucked behind his head like a pillow. His face was placid, serene even. Despite his lion's ears, tail, and mane of hair, in this instance, Leona looked like less like a sleeping lion and more like Sleeping Beauty. But you'd never say it out loud. Your eyes briefly scanned him up and down. You're not sure why you did that, but you wouldn't get a better chance to ogle...uh, inspect...look? If you wanted to get a better look at Leona without him reacting to you staring, now's the perfect chance. After a second, you stopped to look at his face peacefully unaware of your presence. Leona must have been quite relaxed as he let his mouth hang open slightly.

You knelt beside him, but not before checking to see if anyone was watching you. You sat down in the grass near Leona's head just to watch him sleep. A small part of you felt gross about watching him. There was a tightness in your chest while sitting there just to stare at Leona. You felt nauseous, or was that the butterflies in your stomach? Besides the professors and probably Lilia, Leona was the oldest living person on campus. He looked more mature than most of the other students, despite not showing it in his behavior. His features, as one might describe them, were sharper, more angular, and even masculine you could say. He was one of the few students allowed off campus to be able to enter bars without getting carded and could sneak in alcohol to the otherwise dry campus. Leona was clever enough to almost never get caught doing it.

Heat rose to your face the longer you sat there. While looking over his features, your eyes were drawn to his mouth. You noticed his pink tongue between his lips and the gleaming whiteness of his teeth, but in particular his fangs. Compared to real lion's, Leona's sharpest teeth were small, however that didn't mean his were blunt. He could probably draw blood with his own fangs if Leona chose to. It made you wonder what else could they be capable of.

You glanced around. All the other students were hard at work doing or finishing the assignment before the bell rang. Nobody was looking in your direction at all. The butterflies in your stomach went nuts as you wondered dangerous thoughts. You felt safe in the knowledge that Leona wouldn't be waking up for a little while longer; the lion-man could sleep through a number of natural disasters, you figured. What harm could it be to indulge in your curiosity? You pried off the lab gloves you wore and leaned a bit closer. You just wanted to know how sharp his teeth were. If you moved quietly and quickly enough, nobody, including Leona, would know. Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for him, attempting to slip your finger to his mouth and poke the tip of his fang.

Leona inhaled a sharp breath and yawned. His eyelids fluttered open. You withdraw your arm entirely before he could see your intentions.

"I was wondering who was blocking my sun. You been sitting there watching me sleep like a creep?" Asked Leona, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What?" You pretended to be shocked. "Of...of course not! Why would I do something weird like that? W-Who watches people when their asleep? I was just about to, uh, wake you up because the bell's going to ring and I thought I'd save Ruggie the energy of being the one to do it!"

A shadow appeared behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to find Jade leering down at you. That polite yet creepy smile plastered on his face told you everything you needed to know.

"You're getting along quite well with Leona, aren't you, Yuu? Such a good friend to help him wake. However, I was wondering if you might let me have a word with him in private. Azul wants to know if Leona might be able to procure a few things for the lounge," said Jade.

You shot up to your feet and brushed past him. Still, even with your back to them, you could feel Jade's knowing eyes boring holes into the back of your head. You didn't stick around long enough for you to catch what Jade and Leona had to discuss. Headmaster Crowley knew that the Leona was probably the one that supplied illegal, illicit alcohol to the campus' lounge run by Azul, Jade, and Floyd, but never found solid evidence to be able to punish any of them. It was better that you didn't know anything Leona and Jade discussed than get yourself roped in.

Later, you got lunch in the cafeteria and tried to forget the whole incident. Your usual table of Grim, Ace, and Deuce awaited you and none of them would be wise to your odd behavior in herbology class. Just as you sat down, you felt a familiar shadow loom over you. Scratch that, make that two shadows. You were almost too afraid to look, but you glanced behind you nevertheless. Jade still wore that polite yet creepy grin while his twin Floyd was all shark-teeth from ear to ear. You didn't have to guess that they had something devious in their brains.

"Hello, Yuu," said Jade. "How has your day been?"

"G-Good. Can I...Can I help you guys with something?"

"Don't know, shrimpy," Floyd giggled. "You seem to make it a habit of helping yourself to stuff."

"What's he talking about, Yuu?" Asked Deuce.

"I-I honestly have no idea. He's just talking nonsense," you were almost too panicked to say.

Suddenly, Floyd's hand was on your shoulder, squeezing it with a firm grip. He leaned down until his face was just about perpendicular. His eyes were eerily wide. The manic smile he wore before disappeared and was replaced by a sharp-toothed grimace.

"Oi, shrimpy. I wouldn't be spoutin' such things when Jade here caught you with Sea Lion."

"Now, now Floyd, I'm sure there's a good explanation," said Jade.

"What? Didya get caught making out with Leona or somethin'?" Ace chuckled.

Your face was on fire.

"Oh, nothing like that I'm afraid. But you know what they say..." Jade leaned over on your other side. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Maybe you should just ask Sea Lion if he wants to play dentist with you?" Floyd snickered, his mood changing by the flip of a coin.

"Don't tease her, Floyd."

You picked up your lunch tray and carried it far from the Leech twins. You didn't bother to stop and answer questions from your friends at the lunch table. Instead, you made a beeline for the closest spot you could find where you could eat alone in peace. An empty hallway would suffice. You ate in silence in hopes that eating would make you forget everything. It didn't.

You wandered around the library after the final class. There was a pile of homework you had to get through before the library closed and you'd have to trek all the way to the aptly named Ramshackle dorm. Grim, as usual, was of no use, more interested in rambling about how a great mage like him didn't need to study paltry subjects like Magic History. While he was busy daydreaming about becoming the greatest mage, you browsed the shelves to complete at least some of the assignments due at the end of the week. If Grim failed, that's on him.

You passed by the uncountable bookshelves in the labyrinthine library. It didn't occur to you to keep your eyes and ears open. All the warning signs were there. Secluded, wandering around unguided, and mistakenly walk into the least visited area of the library alone. Unbeknownst to you, these factors made you a sitting duck. Frail human ears such as yours couldn't pick up the light footfalls trailing behind you at every twist and turn. You didn't have animal-like instinct to sense the presence encroaching upon you. If you had keener eyes, you might have noticed the figure weaving in between the shelves as it followed you around. By the time you noticed any of this, it was already too late.

Leona pounced like a lion on the savanna. You foolishly had your back turned to him, the predator. Soundlessly, he sprinted towards you and jumped behind you. Leona caged you between his arms, leaving no room to escape. You nearly leapt out of your skin when you turned to see who pinned you against the bookshelf. You dropped the books you were carrying and shielded yourself with your arms against your chest.

"L-Leona...What are you doing?"

He said nothing. Leona smirked and there was a devious glint in his eyes. His gaze bore down on you. The fire in his gaze made you small, vulnerable, and stripped down. Was he...was he undressing you with his eyes just now?

"So?" Leona said at last. "You've got a thing for my fangs, eh?"

"W-Where'd you even hear something so ridiculous?"

"A little fishy told me." His grin turned wider. "You know, if you wanted a demonstration, you could've asked."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammered.

"Oh, I think you do," said Leona.

He lowered his arms in favor of grabbing your waist with one hand and grasping the back of your neck with the other. Leona's body crushed you against bookshelf. His knee came between your leg, pushing between them until you were practically seated on his thigh. Leona loosened the bowtie at your neck, tugged at the collar of your shirt, and pulled the fabric aside to expose your skin for himself. You froze to the spot once you felt teasing lips peck your skin.

"L-Leona..."

"Shush, woman. We're in a library. Why don't you keep quiet unless you'd like an audience? Would you like for somebody to see you get wet from just a few nibbles on your neck?"

"Don't you--"

Your words were cut off by Leona fulfilling his promise. Soft lips were replaced by dull teeth nibbling on your neck. Leona kissed and nibbled on your neck just hard enough for you to feel his teeth. Your entire body was on fire. Leona teased the apex of your thighs with his leg rubbing against you. His kisses and nibbles grew more emboldened with every second you didn't tell him 'no.' Most likely because...you didn't want him to. You clapped your hand over your mouth to stifle the noises threatening to escape from you, however, Leona was making it hard for you to keep completely silent. He purred against your skin in between sucking on your flesh and leaving bruises for anyone to see.

"Hey, Herbivore, you didn't answer my question earlier. Do you like my fangs?"

You whimpered and nodded. Leona pressed his teeth down on your neck, this time pressing his fangs more than his front teeth. He didn't try to break the skin, but it was just enough to add a spike of pain mixed with pleasure. Leona continued to mark your neck down to your collar bone with kisses and bite marks on either side of your neck.

"You're wriggling against me like a snake. You must really want it, don't cha?" Leona swiped a long strip with his tongue along your jawline.

You were so dizzy with lust, listening to your heart pound inside your chest, that you didn't even notice Leona trail his hand to the belt of your pants. He suckled on your neck to distract you from the fact that he was unfurling your belt, unfastening your pants, and diving his hand into your panties. As soon as you realized what he was doing, you whined and tried to pry his hand out. All you could do was hold on to his wrist as calloused fingers drew infinite circles on your clit. You bucked your hips against his hand.

"Damn. You're soaked down here. I barely touched you, dirty Herbivore. If we weren't out here, the things I'd do to you," Leona husked into your ear. "You're lucky we're in the library or else I'd fuck you against the bookshelf behind you. Oh! Do you like that idea? Fucked out of your mind in the library where anybody could come see you because you can't stop screaming for me? You just got wetter." He chuckled.

It was true. You couldn't help yourself. You couldn't help but imagine Leona shoving his cock deep inside your neglected pussy and having his way with you. You knew you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs. Your blunt teeth bit down on your hand as Leona worked your clit into a frenzy. All the while, Leona made sure that you could feel his teeth, including but especially his fangs, sink softly into your skin. You shuddered against him as your hands moved to his shoulders for support. Your legs shook under the onslaught of Leona's attacks.

Then, it was all gone.

As if waking from a strange dream, you find Leona pulling away. You ached between your legs. You needed something more than the nothingness Leona created in his absence. He wore a face of triumph.

"Don't...don't leave me like this, you bastard!" You whined, nearly on the verge of tears.

Leona braced his arm near your head. He watched you pant for breath and your body slowly come down. Your legs trembled with such violence that it wasn't long before they buckled under you and you fell to the floor. Leona, who did nothing to stop your fall, loomed over you.

"Don't make plans for tomorrow. Wait for me in the Mirror Chamber after my last class. And wear something pretty for me." Leona sauntered off as if he hadn't just left you as a puddle.

#twisted wonderland smut #twst #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona x reader #leona x fem reader #twst leona x reader smut #reader smut #fem! reader #fem! Yuu #18+ only #minors dni #minors do not interact #minors begone

[2af-afterdark]

Where Rights Meet Limits

Please keep in mind that the game is still not out, so so it is based on a bunch of random headcanons sort of put together.

Content: GN!MC & Michael (whb), sfw, god mc au, yandere, imprisonment, potential murder mentioned

"Michael," they say, "I would like to go out for a walk."

It was a strange turn of phrase considering there was no 'in' from which to go 'out' of. Heaven was, after all, a vast open space. It seemed that God (the original one, at least) didn't foresee the need for privacy. In retrospect, that was likely one of the series of bad choices that led to Him absconding from heaven in the first place.

The other significantly poor choice was creating an entire species solely motivated by by their desire to adore their creator, much to His detriment.

The last was failing to give them a sense of morality.

Michael looks down at where they sit on the ground, standing over them like a warden. "You may go wherever you so please."

They were, after all, God of the heavens. This kingdom was Their domain by creation. They could do just about anything They pleased since no one would stop them.

"Alone, if you don't mind."

He, in fact, did mind. Quite a lot.

"Oh?" He stares Them down, his golden eye seeming to look right through Them and into Their soul. The doubt in his stare would be considered blasphemy if he was not the highest angel in heaven. "And why must you go alone?"

"I don't believe I answer to you."

Impressive. They had finally learned their position as the head of heaven and were trying to use it to their advantage. Michael was almost proud of Their attempt at exploitation.

"You do not."

"Then I will do what I want," They say with conviction as They lean against Their own knee to pick Themselves up.

"As You wish."

They stare at him the same as he had been Them. They take a step away, as if expecting him to follow, but he does not. They take another and, when he still stays in place, They turn away from him and hesitantly move further.

He is still merely watching when They stop and turn around to see he has not taken a single step to follow after Them. Only then do They speed up just enough that most other creatures wouldn't notice the haste in their pace.

Michael would almost dare to say that he was proud of Them, if not for the obviousness in Their skittish behavior. Still, They deserve a reward for finally acknowledging and using their status. It would be wrong for him to punish Them for finally recognizing Themselves as God.

Instead, he would much rather punish Them when they try to act as a human once again.

He follows after Them at a distance so They can still feel as though They have been given the freedom They wish for. It was about time They have the opportunity to explore Their kingdom at Their leisure. As long as They stay within the heavens, They can have all the freedom They long for.

But he knows They will be unable to stick only to heaven because They are still far too human.

As he passes by a group of angels -- the lowest ones without a rank or title who are assigned to menial work -- he gives them a message to pass along to all who may see their beloved God.

"When God tries to leave heaven, do not stop Them."

Because it is only a matter of time until They attempt to leave them, under the false impression that they are alone and no one is watching. Michael thinks it a wonderful idea to allow Them the time to think Themselves wise for finding the exit and revel in their escape. Perhaps he will even allow Them a brief moment to find another human who will feel sympathy for Their panicked state for only an instant before he lobs off their head. Surely such a scene will serve as sufficient punishment and reminder that They are no longer of the human world and are officially claimed by the heavens.

And if not, well, as many heads as necessary will roll until They finally do. Whatever it takes to teach God that They cannot leave Their devoted subjects behind a second time.

#2af writes #what in hell is bad #whb #whb michael #whb mc #god mc au #cw yandere #cw imprisonment #cw death

[defectivevillain]

alone together

pairing: Blaise Zabini x reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader’s pronouns: unspecified but masc-intended!

summary: You’re a Gryffindor that earns detention with Umbridge during class. You go to detention that night only to find a Slytherin already there. Against all odds, you find yourself forming an unexpected friendship with this other student.��

author’s note: Just pretend you’re a Gryffindor!! It’s for the story, I swear. [i'm not a gryffindor either lol]

warnings: blood, injury, and scarring from umbridge’s blood quill. 

You walk out of Umbridge’s class with hunched shoulders and clenched fists. That woman is... beyond vile. You tried to bring up your concerns surrounding the lack of practical application in the class, but she assigned you detention instead of addressing anything you said. You grit your teeth and walk to your room, already dreading the detention. You’ve had detention with her before, and you’re not looking forward to adding to the scar on your hand. 

The hours leading up to your detention pass by incredibly fast, of course. It almost feels as if you blink and suddenly you’re standing in front of the door to the Defense Professor’s chambers. You steel your nerves and knock on the door, entering when you hear that familiar high-pitched voice. You’re unsurprised to see the toad herself glaring at you as you take your seat. You are surprised, however, to see someone sitting in the adjacent chair. You recognize him to be Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin student in the same year as you. 

Umbridge places down a piece of parchment and a quill for each of you. “You two have been here before. You know what to do.” You sigh, picking up the dreaded quill and beginning to write your lines. I must not speak out of turn. It’s only the first sentence you've written, yet your hand begins to bleed again. I must not speak out of turn. I must not speak out of turn. I must not-

“It seems I have some... business... to attend to,” Umbridge interrupts. You pause in your writing, just barely withholding a wince at the stinging sensation. “I expect these lines to be completed when I return.” With that, Umbridge leaves the room. For a long moment, you and Blaise sit in silence. You try to brainstorm a way to get out of this situation, but you’re not quite sure how. You eventually blurt out what’s on your mind. 

“Do you know a spell to replicate our writing?” You ask Zabini. He raises an eyebrow, the only external sign of what you can assume to be shock. A few seconds pass and he doesn’t reply. You’re about to give up on the conversation when he finally replies. 

“Yes.” You watch as he waves his wand and murmurs some words. To your surprise, the ink bleeds across the paper until the entire scroll is filled with your writing. Even better, this replication doesn’t further aggravate your injury. Speaking of the cuts on your hand, the skin on your hand itches and burns. “Thanks,” you nod, impressed. Admittedly, you didn’t know any spells like that. You’re reminded of why Zabini is one of the smartest students in your year.

“You’re not bad for a Gryffindor,” Zabini murmurs, just quietly enough that you think you imagine it. You stare at him for a moment, processing his statement. 

“You flatter me, Zabini,” you eventually huff, just barely managing to hide an eye roll. Your effort doesn't seem to work very well, because the Slytherin scoffs in response. For a long moment, the two of you stare at each other in silence. You’re not able to hold in your laughter anymore. Somehow, he starts to chuckle, too.

“Call me Blaise,” the boy says, after the two of you have calmed down. You raise your eyebrows, not having expected that at all. Blaise notices your surprise and laughs. “I’m not a fan of all that name bullshit. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.” You mime zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key. He has the most perplexed look on his face at that, which amuses you greatly.

“Let’s get out of here, before she comes back,” Blaise says, drawing you out of your thoughts. He rises out of his seat and you follow him. For a moment, Blaise pauses in the doorway, evidently checking to make sure the coast is clear, before walking out of the room and into the hallway. The two of you continue down the winding halls for a few minutes, until you reach a deserted area where you won’t be eavesdropped on. 

“Well,” you remark, not quite sure what to do from here. Admittedly, your hand is hurting like hell. You hadn’t quite noticed before, since you were distracted. Now, though, you can’t help but notice. Blaise must be freakishly observant, because he frowns and looks at your side. 

“Let me see your hand,” Blaise orders, his eyebrows furrowing. You grimace and pull up your sleeve, revealing your scarred hand. He inhales sharply. “Why didn’t you speak up? Gryffindors...” You hardly get the chance to wonder what that means before there’s a warm feeling coasting over your hand, softening the pain. 

“How’d you do that?” You’re sure there’s an unhealthy amount of admiration and awe in your voice, but you can’t quite help it. “And, wait, you should cast that on your own hand.”

“Oh,” Blaise mutters, pausing for a long moment. He stares at you and you nearly wilt under his watchful gaze. “I appreciate your concern, but my hand was never actually cut. I just faked it and cast a spell.” Smart. You wish you had thought of that. 

“Anyway, you should put a salve on this,” Blaise cradles your hand gently, and you feel your heart begin to race for some reason. The two of you are standing rather close together. Blaise inexplicably leans forward for a moment, but a harsh meow makes him flinch. The two of you look to your right, only to find Mrs. Norris staring up at you. You curse and look to Blaise, who has a similarly annoyed expression on his face.

“Well, we should go,” you say awkwardly. You look down at his hand on yours and he quickly removes it. Blaise shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, before uttering a goodbye and walking away.

Once he’s out of view, you look down at your hand. You can still feel the ghost of Blaise’s touch. Signing to yourself, you walk back to your common room. And, if the Slytherin boy begins to dominate your thoughts? Well, no one has to know.

endnotes below!

I know it may seem a bit... uncharacteristic, I guess... that Blaise is able to wield his magic so effectively. I like to think that he knows a few Dark spells that allow him to be more efficient than most. I’m sure there are some Dark healing spells out there- after all, the stigma behind Dark spells solely causing harm is... a stigma. anyway. 

I don’t support JKR in any way whatsoever. I saw an author’s note on ao3 that describes the sentiment: “JKR owns these characters, no matter how much she doesn’t deserve them.”

thanks for reading <3

#hp #hp x reader #hp x male reader #hp x gn reader #harry potter #Blaise x reader #Blaise x male reader #Blaise x gn reader #gn reader #male reader #yuh yuh #this has been in my drafts for an ungodly amount of time

[mytheoristavenue]

hi if the requests are open, could i ask for franken stein x chubby reader who is meister with death scythe?? if not, it doesn't matter <333

So sorry for the wait, my computer is in the shop, and has been for about three weeks, and it has taken a while to get me set up on my boyfriend’s desktop!

SE Franken Stein x Plus Sized!Reader - Silly

Warnings: Stalker(ish) behavior, fat shaming, angst

Summary: You appeal to your colleague for his help in getting back into shape after reuniting over the awaking of the Kishin. 

"I'm beginning to thing you're making excuses to see me, Miss (Y/N)." Stein chuckled as you entered his room, not needing to turn to look at you.

"How did you know it was me?" you asked, unnerved.

"Simple, really. You weigh approximately (Y/W), making your steps heavier than any students', then the pattern in which you step points to your anxious nature. Also, those heels you insist on wearing clack like a mother fucker." he explained, smirking at you over his shoulder, setting down the piece of chalk with which he had been writing the next day's lesson plans on the blackboard. "Now, was there something you needed?"

You blushed at his utter deconstruction of your stride, which reminded you who you were talking to, as well as why you were here. You stuck your arms to your side, fists balled, and delivered your statement with as much disciplined vigor as possible. "Now that the Kishin has been awaken, the students' lives will constantly be in danger."

"And?"

Your solidarity faltered slightly, expecting your colleague to share in your determination. "W-Well, as you know, I've been assigned to be Death Sythe's partner on field missions, and we are to accompany the students to and from the school."

"I'm aware."

Your spirit was entirely broken down at this point, but you pressed on, finding it more embarrassing to leave now than to do so. "A lot of time has passed since we graduated, Stein. I'm a history teacher, I'm not as athletic as I used to be."

"You've gotten fat." He deadpanned. "Is that your point? What, do you expect me to be your personal trainer?" You nodded, a bit hurt, but he had been on point, so why dispute? Try as you might, it proved impossible to hide your tarnished feelings as your lip quivered slightly. Never the less, you pressed on, or intended to before Stein interrupted you again. “I don’t see how your poor personal upkeep is my problem.”

“It’s not.” you blurted, a little more harshly than you’d intended to. “Believe me, Stein, I wouldn’t have come to you if I thought I had another choice.” You huffed, briefly recalling the way the male had relentlessly bullied you as a teenager, during your years together as students. “The fact of the matter is, I deeply care for these children, and I know, that deep down, you do too. To be honest, I find your repeated lack of hands on protect of the students revolting, and I refuse to just sit around and hope that they can pull through whatever life threatening mess they find themselves in, as you do.” 

You hadn’t noticed, but through your intense, hate filled rant, tears had begun to stream down your blushed cheeks. Stein sat in his patchwork rolling chair, smirking up at you, amused on the surface, but just beneath, he was humiliated. How dare you come into his classroom, to beg for his help, and end up mocking his techniques from your non-existent high horse?

Stein chuckled a bit, removing his glasses to clean them off against the hem of his lab coat. “My, Miss (Y/N), I must say, belittling a superior is an awfully strange way of asking for help.”

“Superior? You are a colleague at most, Franken. Nothing more.” you spat. “Forget I asked, obviously, a coward like you won’t be any help to me.” With, you piece said, anger flared and cheeks flushed, you spun on your ‘obnoxious’ kitten heels and stormed toward the door in a huff.

Stein didn’t bother calling out to you as you reached the exit, throwing it open and slamming it behind you. “Click, clack, click, clack...” he sang, copying the sound of your heels stomping down the hall toward your own classroom. As you got too far for him to hear, he sucked his lip into his bite rolling backwards into his chair, before silently accessing the bottom drawer, and removing a false bottom from it. Beyond the panel, stash of candid photos of none other than yourself. Gingerly lifting the top one off the stack, he brought it close to him, before laying it out on his desk.

He breathed heavily, tracing your generous figure with the tip of his index finger. “Oh, you are silly.” he mumbled. “Silly and stupid.” Of course you were stupid, why would you think he would help you get rid of the part of you that drove him so incandescently wild?

#soul eater #soul eater x reader #soul eater stein #professor stein x reader #Professor Stein #follower request

[midnightraine131]

Pairing: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart

Tags: Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Teenage Love, Awkward First Times, Slow Burn, POV Armin Arlert, Bottom Armin Arlert, Wet Dreams

Warning: R18 contains sensitive topics

Summary: They say the most judgmental people are those who attend church on Sundays.

Despite growing up in a Christian household, Armin Arlert felt overburdened by the pile of ministry activities assigned to him. So he made a pact with himself to never follow in his father's footsteps and become a pastor. With the goal of saving enough money to persuade his parents to let him move to another state after high school, he started accepting paid essay projects in school in secret.

Everything in Armin's busy life seemed manageable until he met Annie Leonhart, a Californian girl whose parents had moved her against her will to Vermont. Upon discovering Armin's secret business, Annie approached him with a unique request- to write love letters for a long-distance lover. To craft the perfect love letters, she would help Armin embark on a journey of firsts— his first kiss, first hug, first date, and first everything in a relationship.thing in a relationship.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

Four pairs of eyes glanced at each other. No words had been spoken for the past ten minutes since Eren climbed up to Armin’s room.

The blond was racking his brain to find a better word to explain their situation in the room to his best friends, without them misconstruing it. At some point, the taller boy couldn't hold it anymore. He dropped his knapsack and the one big bag of potato chips hanging on his right hand to the floor. He gestured to Armin, instructing, “To the bathroom—now, young man!”

Armin quickly stood up from the bed, but as soon as he started to walk, Eren took his hand and dragged him inside the bathroom. Mikasa followed and locked the bathroom door behind them, leaving Annie alone standing in the middle of the bedroom, bewildered.

“Armin, what the fuck?” Eren asked, pinning his friend against the wall. The blond winced as he hit the wall.

“Eren, don’t be too harsh on him. He’s still hurt,” Mikasa reminded him of Armin’s injury, to which the turquoise-eyed boy raised his hand as a gesture for Mikasa not to worry.

Armin sighed, “I told you. Nothing is going on between me and Annie.”

“Armin, your mom is literally in the kitchen, and you have a girl staying in your room. What will you do if she finds out?” Mikasa interrogated.

“She won’t find out,” Armin replied, his brows knitting together.

Eren’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Armin knew he couldn’t get away too easily. “I’m sure you are aware of her reputation. Don’t tell me you lost your V-card to her?”

“Oh, come on!” Armin threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I know she’s been staying with me for quite a while now, but she’s a good person. She actually saved my life.”

“What do you mean?” Mikasa asked, totally worried about their friend.

Armin opened his mouth to tell them what happened last night but got interrupted when they heard Annie knock from the other side of the door. Mikasa opened the door behind them, revealing Annie just standing there with her bag on her shoulder. “Y’know what, I must go. I don’t really have plans to stay over. I just came by to check on your friend.” She turned to leave, but Armin noticed she carried a bigger backpack this time. He assumed she brought her own pajamas so she didn’t need to borrow his. Confident in his assumptions, he never failed to catch her lying.

Mikasa and Eren looked at each other, feeling bad for being rude to her. Eren was the first one to talk, “Hey Annie, if you really want to stay tonight, it’s okay. I will just sleep on the carpet.”

Armin turned to him in disbelief, “Eren?”

Mikasa held his shoulder and spoke loud enough for Annie to hear, “We promise we won’t tell anybody about this. Trust us.” Armin trusts his best friends more than anyone in this world, so when Mikasa assured him, he was totally convinced. “You heard them, Annie. Please stay,” Armin tried to convince her. She turned to him to see a pair of begging big blue eyes.

Twenty minutes had passed, and they had settled on Armin’s bed, talking about the incident. Eren spoke most of the time, telling Annie what happened in school, which made Annie curse at Historia. Armin told her not to blame her since it was his fault to begin with. He noticed Annie was silent for a moment, as if she was sunk deep into her thoughts.

“Annie…”

“You need that money, right?” Annie asked out of the blue.

Technically, yes. Armin had already prepared a two-year financial plan, and it would be a hard setback to lose four hundred dollars. Annie seemed to understand the answer before Armin could reply. “Alright,” she stood up and took her pajamas out of her bag. “I’ll sign up for the camp.”

“Annie, you don’t have to. I can earn that money back,” Armin protested. It was not his intention to drag someone into his mess just because he made a mistake.

“Not until you kill yourself overworking. My decision is final. I’m going to the camp with you.” She glanced at him, too cold for Eren’s and Mikasa’s taste, but Armin understood that deep inside her heart, she cared about him.

Before Annie could enter the bath, Mikasa spoke up. “I’ll sign up too.”

“Mikasa!” Eren and Armin called out in unison. Green eyes sparkled and the blue ones were hopeful.

“Tomorrow, we have to go shopping, Annie. I can’t afford for the church people to assume that Armin’s friends are all composed of a witch and—” Mikasa purposely cut what she was about to say.

“—a whore, I know. I finish my shift after five,” Annie continued.

“It’s settled then!” Eren stretched his arms, yawning. “Tomorrow, I will help to cover Mikasa’s shift while they go shopping.”

“Eren, do you know how the counter works?” Armin asked, totally having doubts about his best friend's working etiquette.

“You are working with me, right?” Without asking, Eren set himself on the foot of the bed and dozed off. Armin rolled his eyes, knowing he would have a long day tomorrow at work. But it’s better than working alone anyway. So he replied, “Yeah.”

Mikasa lay on the mattress, on Armin’s left side. As soon as her head settled on the soft pillow, her eyes closed and drifted to sleep. It was obvious on her face how exhausted she had been today from taking care of him. Armin brushed his palm on top of her crown and whispered, “Thank you for today, Mikasa.”

Armin heard Annie emerge from the bathroom; she had changed into her pajamas, and her nape was still moist from the shower. She settled herself on Armin’s right side. When he lay down, he turned to face her, and she took his hand, placing it under her cheek as if it were part of the pillow.

“How can you be so careless?” she asked, trying to stay awake but her eyelids were slowly closing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and smiled at her before falling asleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Armin heard a loud thud that woke him up. He craned his neck to check what was going on. Eren, who used to be sleeping at the foot of the bed, had moved to Mikasa’s side to cuddle her. Now, four teenagers awkwardly squeezed into a queen-sized bed. When Armin looked at his right side, it was Annie who had fallen off the bed. He heard her groan “Ouch,” but she was too tired to stand on her feet, so she just resumed her sleep on the carpet.

Armin took his pillow and a new blanket from the cabinet before lying next to Annie on the carpet, carefully placing the pillow under her head, waking her up a bit. Her beautiful eyes opened slightly, her pale blue irises glanced at him. Armin didn’t move, scared that he might further disturb her sleep, but instead, Annie threw her arms and legs around him, probably mistaking him for a bolster. He felt something soft underneath her clothes. Realizing she wasn’t even wearing a bra when going to bed, Armin wasn’t sure, but his feelings were torn between "Lord, I don’t deserve this, but thank you for the blessings" and "Oh dear Holy Spirit, please save me."

It took Armin a while to calm whatever he felt down south; he didn’t even want to think about it. Annie stayed over with good intentions and not for anything else. She faced enough scrutiny outside of this room, and he didn’t want her to feel the same when they were together. She didn’t deserve it just because she wanted to be herself and wear the clothes she wanted. He was wrong before. Girls like Annie just need acceptance from other people and not to be told what to do.

And it’s okay to be friends with other girls like her without feeling other things, just like his friendship with Mikasa.

It’s alright. He feels safe with Annie, and he does the same for her. They had become each other’s safe haven ever since the night she first snuck into his room.

Armin couldn’t tell what time he fell asleep, but not too long after, Annie tapped his shoulder to wake him up. “Armin, get up. I will help you change the bandage on your arm. You need to prepare to go to school soon.” She whispered, and he followed suit.

As soon as they entered the bathroom, Annie kicked down the toilet cover and cursed at whoever had used it and left it open. She then asked Armin to sit there. With eyes half open, Armin watched as she prepared the plasters the doctor provided for him a day before. She was already changed into her misty rose-colored scrubs suit, fully ready for work, but for Armin, it felt more like he was in the hospital with a private nurse taking care of him.

Annie noticed him staring at her clothes and guessed he was curious about why she was up early. “Hange has scheduled an operation at nine. I have to be at the clinic an hour before to prepare the operating room. She’ll pay me overtime, so I agreed,” she answered without him asking.

She crouched on the floor and held out her hand, “Let me see your arm.” Armin hesitated, gripping tightly on his arm. He was not used to getting hurt since his parents protected him too much as a little kid, to the extent that they didn’t allow him to play outside the house. So Armin could only count on his fingers the events he got serious injuries. Armin also knew the first replacement of the bandages hurt the most because the gauze still stuck into the clotted blood; one wrong pull and the wound would bleed again.

“Trust me, I’m more trained in humans than animals.” She gestured to take his hand, and he gave in eventually. Slowly she peeled the bandages off from his wrist up to his elbows and threw them in the nearby bin. She then proceeded to pull the first gauze, earning a wince from him, but she didn’t care as she continued peeling off the gauze. When it was already too much for him, he suddenly tugged his arm away from her. His face reddened, and a tear threatened to leak from the corner of his eye. Annie sighed, “You have a terribly low pain tolerance.”

“It’s really painful, Annie,” he cried. They spent a good five-minute staring contest before Annie checked the time on her wristwatch. It’s fifteen minutes before seven; it's just a matter of minutes before his mother climbs up to his bedroom to call them for breakfast. She carefully took his arms again and said, “Look away and pinch your other arm as hard as you can so it divides the pain.” Without any other choice, Armin followed her instructions. At least Annie is more considerate than the doctor who took care of his wound yesterday. Before he knew it, all the gauze was already dumped in the bin. True to her word, it was less painful when you pinch yourself. If Armin had known that technique before, his life would’ve been easier. However, it left a small portion of bruises on his other arm. He pinched himself too hard.

Annie used wet wipes to remove the glue stains around the wounds, then she asked Armin to lean in the bathtub so she could rinse the wound in the shower at the right temperature. While letting his arm dry with a towel, she prepared a cotton pad soaked in saline solution. Armin watched her face as she slowly dabbed the pad on his wounds. It didn’t hurt anymore, but the cold effect of the solution made him a little uncomfortable. Then to finish the procedure, she covered his wound with new plasters. She turned his arm to each side to check if the wound was properly sealed before she raised to her feet and tapped the tip of his nose twice. “Good job, tiger.”

Armin watched as Annie cleaned the mess on the sink. “It’s still too early to leave, Annie,” he said, standing up. He felt a bit giddy but managed to steady his balance.

“Yeah, but I have to grab coffee on the way. Coffee shops are usually crowded at this hour,” she replied, stepping out of the bathroom. She grabbed her bag from the foot of the bed and slid its straps to her shoulders.

He rushed after her, “If that is the case, then I will make you coffee every day so you won’t have to leave early for coffee shops.”

“You okay with that?” she turned to him before realizing, “Oh yeah, you make coffees for a living.”

“It’s just a part-time job, and it’s not like Starbucks-level coffee, but I can make a decent one.”

“I bet your coffee is better than Starfucks.” She walked towards the window, opened the glass panels, and slid herself out of his room. “I’ll see you again tonight.”

“Thank you, Annie.” He stood by the window, watching her climb down from the roof to the tree branches to jump onto the streets. He watched until her figure disappeared into the distance.

As if on cue, his mom suddenly opened his door, startling him. “Kids, time for breakfast!”

Being reminded that his best friends were cuddling the last time he paid attention to them, he looked back toward his bed. For some reason, Eren is back at the foot of the bed, sleeping soundly while Mikasa has just woken up, her hair disheveled as she shifted herself to a sitting position, scratching her left eye. Armin let out a sigh of relief.

His mom shot him a questioning look. “Honey, are you okay?” She walked toward him and pulled him into a hug like a five-year-old.

“Mom, I’m fine, and my friends are here. Can you just let me go?” He protested, his face buried in the corner of his mom’s neck. Sometimes he hates being treated like a kid.

His mother ignored him, dragging him out of the room like a ragdoll. “Mikasa, wake Eren up now before the breakfast gets cold.” He heard Mikasa respond with a yes to his mother before going down the stairs. His two friends followed behind.

His father was already sitting at the dining table, sipping his coffee as he scrolled down to his iPad. The teenagers selected their seats and settled, with Eren still in a dreamy daze. His mother served each plate with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. She then prepared each batch of bread in the toaster. Mikasa took a carton of milk to fill their glasses.

“How’s your wound, Armin? Who changed the bandages?” his father asked, which caught him off guard for a minute. He realized he forgot to prepare a spiel to explain to his parents his newly cleaned arm.

Mikasa, noticing her friend was in crisis, she butted in, “I helped him clean his wound earlier, but we realized we woke up too early so we went back to bed.”

“Huh? Mikasa, you know how to— ouch!” Mikasa kicked Eren’s foot under the table. Armin felt like his soul almost left his body when his parents glanced at each other.

Realizing his best friends wouldn’t be able to salvage the situation any longer, he spoke, “Mikasa watched a bunch of tutorials on YouTube last night. Remember?”

“Uh- yeah? Yeah, I remember now. That’s right,” Eren replied, nodding. Mikasa glaring at him to keep his mouth shut.

Good thing, his father didn’t press anymore; instead, he decided to change the topic. “Anyway, next week, my cell group —which includes Eren and Mikasa’s parents— will be here for dinner, and we want you guys to join us. You have to set that on your schedule. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The teenagers responded simultaneously as they dug into their plates.

His mom placed the tray of toasted bread on the center of the dining table. “Also, Pastor Dreyse just got back here in Woodstock and his family will be coming too, so, Armin…” she emphasized his name to get his attention. “Whatever you have to do next Friday night, cancel it.”

Armin narrowed his eyes as he chewed on the bacon, “Mom, is this AruHitch phase of yours still ongoing?” he asked, horrified.

Eren suppressed a laugh but failed, “The fact that you already have a ship name made it seem official.”

Armin rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“Ship name? I’m afraid I’m not following these new terms.” His father butted in, totally confused.

“It’s like combining two names in one. We usually use this for characters in a series if we want them to be together romantically,” Mikasa explained, gesturing her hands like she was giving a lecture at a university. “Soon you will understand, pops.”

Armin’s father winced at the word pops. To Armin’s relief, they seemed to forget about the teasing part and finished their breakfast. Armin kissed his dad and mom goodbye before starting his day.

He wore a long-sleeved sweater to cover his arm. Luckily, only a few students in school are aware of the incident. Armin tends to keep quiet about it to avoid issues against Historia. During lunch break, Armin walked past Historia’s locker, but she wasn’t there. Armin starts to believe she didn’t come to school today. He wanted to send her a text message, but Mikasa was against the idea and suggested it was better to give her some space for a while. The heavy burden in his chest dragged on as the hours passed by. Armin had busied himself for some distraction so he wouldn’t think about it too much. He had done his assignments and essays in between breaks. His shift with his best friend wasn’t too bad either, but he noticed that there were more customers today in the shop than usual. Most of them are middle school girls. He assumes it is because of Eren and his growing popularity with the girls. Armin couldn’t deny how much Eren’s look improved over the years. He was more concerned about what to wear for the day and he’s up-to-date with the current fashion trend. But of course, with Mikasa’s influence, his fashion is more goth or pop rock-inspired, black t-shirts, metal studs, big belts, and fake hoop earrings around the helix of his ears, just like Annie’s but hers are genuinely pierced.

Armin glanced at his reflection from the display cabinet. He has had the same hairstyle since he was five. Full bangs that usually poke his eyelashes when he blinks, golden strands that just end below his jaw. Growing up, Armin used to be bullied because he looked too feminine and frail for a boy. Now that he pays attention to himself, he can tell he still looks like a girl until now and his voice didn’t help either. Most of the boys around the school had outgrown him, and their voices start to boom a bit deeper. Some of the church aunties tell him not to worry about his looks; he probably was one of those rare cases of a late bloomer. Armin sighed. His puberty was long overdue, no wonder no girls showed interest in him.

His shift ended after seven. Both boys handed over the cashier to Sasha, who was scheduled to work in the closing shift. Eren was picked up by his father while Armin separated from his best friend to meet up with Hitch for dinner.

Hitch is Armin’s longest friend— longer than Eren and Mikasa. She was born in a Christian family too, just like him; her parents are both Pastors. The Arlerts and the Dreyses co-founded the community church in Woodstock. However, Pastor Dreyse frequently traveled around Asia for biblical missions while Pastor Arlert stayed in Woodstock to preach and run the church.

Being born in the same year, same environment, and same upbringing, Hitch has become like an older sister to Armin. If only she never had beef with Mikasa, she could’ve been included in Eren’s circle of best friends.

After ten minutes of bantering and tugging each other on the streets about which restaurants to eat at, both of them agreed to settle on DIY hotpot at Armin’s house. They passed by the grocery store to pick up some mushrooms and vegetables. Armin remembered his mom storing leftover beef slices in the fridge, while Hitch kept taking packs of crab sticks, tau kee, and some type of bean curd he couldn’t name anymore. Armin took an extra trip to the coffee aisle, taking a pack of espresso roast coffee beans and a carton of ready-to-froth milk. Armin was sure his dad kept a French press somewhere in the kitchen cupboard. After they had paid at the self-service counter, each of their hands carried a bag of groceries as they walked home. Armin intentionally didn’t mention his arm. Knowing Hitch, once she finds out about the incident, there is a huge chance she’d storm in at Historia's place for a fight. She was worse than Mikasa. Armin learned the hard way.

Hitch crouched at one of the cupboards and took the single induction that had been tucked away behind the kitchenware, as if she knew every inch of this house. Armin prepared the pot before proceeding to wash and chop the vegetables. He took the electric kettle, filled it full with water, and left it on until it boiled. He grabbed the chopping board with veggies and moved across from Hitch on the island counter as she adjusted the heat on the induction before putting in beef flanks and vermicelli noodles. Her hands propped her chin up while she stirred the soup idly.

“Armin, you know you can’t be too greedy,” Hitch deadpanned, watching Armin’s chopsticks take another bundle of enoki mushrooms and slowly laying them on top of the boiling tomato soup.

“If you don’t like mushrooms, then I will eat them all,” Armin said, raising his small bowl to fill it with soup. He was leaning on the counter, ignoring the highchair on his side. “It doesn’t matter if I eat a little much; I will still maintain my abs, though.” He raised the hem of his shirt to show his still well-toned abs.

“Right, those extra calories are being trapped in your cheeks instead,” Hitch retorted, using her chopsticks to push the mushrooms aside to make space for her bean curd.

“Don’t fat-shame my cheeks.”

“You started it.”

“Because you called me greedy.”

Hitch's eyebrow shot up, catching the smug expression on his face before shrugging it off. She took her bowl and filled it with tomato soup and bean curds. She busied herself with her iPad, looking through the worship songs they had to practice for the camp.

The electric kettle automatically clicked off, a sign that the boiling water was ready. Armin took the pack of espresso roast and measured the ratio before placing the grounds in the French press and filling it up with measured water. He took a few careful stirs before covering the cylinder with its lid. He returned to their meal as he waited for the coffee to steep. The smell of coffee wafted around the kitchen, making Hitch crave a cup even if it was already a little late in the night. Armin noticed her watching him make coffee.

“Why are you making coffee at this hour?” she asked.

Armin hummed before answering, “Just practicing.”

“What? Are you going to start working as a barista at Kiyomi’s shop too?”

“No.”

“Then for what?”

Armin squinted his eyes, knowing he couldn’t get away too easily under her scrutiny. “Do you want coffee?”

“Of course, but you haven’t answered my question.”

Dodging the question, Armin refocused his attention back to the French press. He used his palm to press the plunger down, carefully preventing the grounds from escaping into the coffee.

“So, uhm, have you practiced our song for the camp?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“How’s Pastor Dreyse? I heard he’s back from Singapore.” Armin took the frother to prepare the milk.

“You haven’t answered my question, Arlert.” Hitch crossed her arms, a sign that it was the end of the stretch of her patience.

Armin sighed, “Fine, I’m making it for—” he got interrupted by a sudden loud thud from his room. Horror struck across his face, realizing Annie should be back from shopping. He glanced at the clock. Shoot! It’s already a quarter past eight. It is definitely Annie in his room.

Hitch flinched in shock. Her face questioning Armin, “Aren’t we alone in this house? Did someone break into your room?” She stood up, suddenly shifting to protective older sister mode instinct.

“Oh, Hitch! It’s— it’s nothing?” he dashed around to Hitch's side to stop her from walking up the stairs.

“What do you mean? What if someone wants to kill us?”

“Hitch, you are just being paranoid. It’s just— a ghost?” Armin winced after letting out those words; he wasn’t this bad at lying, but panic had taken over his mind, scared of what would happen if Hitch found out about Annie. There was a huge chance his mother would find out about his secret.

Hitch took a baseball bat from behind the storage room door and silently stepped onto the staircase. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no way this house is haunted. There is definitely someone up there.”

Armin moved in front of her to block her way, “A poltergeist?”

She shook her head, tightening her grip on the baseball bat. Before Armin knew it, Hitch was already in front of his bedroom door. She was always fast; never in his life did he beat her in a chase. Hitch placed her ear on the door, and when she heard silence, she kicked the door open. Armin prayed so hard for Annie to leave or hide somewhere.

They both entered the room; there was no sign of anyone there but the small white kitten in the middle of Armin’s bed, looking back at them. The kitten tilted its head slightly before jumping onto the floor and ran towards Armin’s feet to brush its tail. Armin sighed in relief as he glanced at the small cage and then at the cat. Did Annie release the kitten before they got into his room? Then if so, where is she?

Hitch turned to him; she was as confused as he was. “Weird. This room even smells like girl’s perfume.” She walked towards the bathroom and forcefully pushed the door open; there wasn’t anyone in there. Then she went to check his closet.

Armin’s eyebrows creased, “I have a feeling that I need to demand a search warrant.” He crossed his arms, masking his nervousness behind a smug expression.

Failing to see anyone in his room, Hitch finally gave up on searching but shot him a warning. She pointed her forefinger at his chest, “You know very well you can’t hide anything from me. I have known you since we were infants. We grew up together in the same environment and the same situation, so I know when you are hiding something. You are like an extension of my body.”

“Oh, please, Hitch. Don’t make it sound weird,” he grunted; his shoulders slumped as he sighed before snatching the bat from her hands. His right arm wrapped around hers as he led her out of the bedroom. “I told you, you’re just being paranoid.” Armin glanced back inside his room before shutting the door closed. He got a glimpse of Annie’s arms emerging from under his bed, taking the kitten from the floor to hide with her. So that’s where she hid herself. It was a relief for both of them that Hitch didn’t think of checking underneath the bed.

Armin placed his head on Hitch’s shoulder as they headed down the staircase. Hitch moved her head to rest on his crown. “You know you are a bitch sometimes.” She started.

“Oh? Why am I the bitch this time?”

“Don’t you think I didn’t know you were the one who ratted me out to my mother about the boy I was seeing? Now everyone in school thinks I ghosted him.”

“I told you he’s not good for you.”

“Is it because he wasn’t a Christian?”

“No. But that guy keeps telling everyone in school who he slept with.” He raised his head and gasped. “Don’t tell me…”

“Shut up! I’m still a virgin— or else mom would shave my head off.” She defended herself before falling silent.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked worriedly.

“There’s a question in my head that I keep thinking about lately—”

“Shoot.”

“Armin.” Hitch pulled him down to sit on the tread, looking at him directly in his eyes. Emerald green eyes lingered on his cobalt blue. “What if one day you met someone who isn’t a Christian and fell in love with her? Would you convince her to be baptized?”

It took a whole good ten minutes of staring contest; Armin swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, but he was the first one to drop their gaze, looking down at the symmetrical angle of the stairs. Shadows drew illusions through the warm lights coming from the living room, making it seem they were far away from the ground. His mind sought an answer. As a Christian, he knew the exact verses by heart to answer this question correctly, but the back of his head told him to answer honestly. He almost brushed the latter idea off.

“Hitch, you know the answer in the Second Corinthians chapter six verses fourteen to sixteen when Paul said…”

The teenagers cited in unison, Hitch sighing, dejected, “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness? What harmony is there between Christ and Belial? Or what does a believer have in common with an unbeliever? What agreement is there between the temple of God and idols?”

“In short, we as Christians shouldn’t form a bond with unbelievers because it would pull us away from Him.” He trailed off, pointing up his forefinger. “We must influence unbelievers without them influencing us.”

“I know you would answer that.” Hitch hugged her knees, burying her face in the curtains of ash-brown strands.

Armin thought for a second when suddenly his mind pictured him being with Annie. He didn’t understand why, of all the people in the world, it was Annie who he would think of. He considered giving away his honest answer before he spoke again. “That was my answer if you would ask me as a Youth leader. But if I would answer as an extension of your body—” he used his finger to air quote. “I would say, I don’t want to push those teachings that the church engraved in me as a kid onto my future partner— if she was hesitant to accept that.”

Armin expected Hitch to laugh at his stupid, honest answer, but unexpectedly, she remains silent. Her eyes landed on the same symmetrical angle of the staircase, the same spot he was gazing at a few seconds ago. There was just comfortable silence and two teenagers and increasing warm lights from downstairs. Hitch tucked her hair behind her ears while her mind digested his answer.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” asked Armin, moving closer to her to whisper. Although they are alone in the house, he feels the need to talk softly to his friend.

“Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Thanks.” She jests, her voice almost just came out airy.

“Do I know this guy?” he pressed further; this time less serious.

“No! no! I’m not thinking of some stupid guy!”

“Stupid guy?” Armin paused to rack his brain for the moments Hitch mentioned hundreds of boy names she had a crush on, he archived a list in the small corner of his mind just in case he needed to blackmail her in the future when one name had clicked the bulb on, “Do you mean Marlowe Freu—” Armin was interrupted by a sudden impact, pinning him to the wall. Hitch's hands covered almost half of his face. “Let go of me! I can’t breathe!” he muffled behind her palms.

“Marlowe is just my partner in literature, and he is stupid for doing most of the job! And he has a stupid haircut! Jeez!” Hitch flushed, pressing her weight on him. “If I’ve known better, you were thinking of other girls too, right? Who is it?”

Armin shook his head but still managed to chuckle at the thought of catching Hitch off guard despite her weight pressing on him.

“Honey, we’re home— oh?” Armin’s mother called downstairs but was surprised at the sight of their position. Hitch was hovering above Armin while her legs spread wide on his stomach. Armin had his injured arm above his head so Hitch wouldn’t hurt him. Both faces are painted a shade of crimson. Hitch was embarrassed while Armin was suffering.

“What are you kids doing?” His father poked his head from the staircase before his face flashed the same surprised expression as his mom had.

“Hi! Pastor and Mrs. Arlert. Uhm— we were having dinner earlier and decided this was the right time to kill each other.” Hitch butted in, finally freeing Armin.

“Hi, Mom, Dad.” Armin acknowledges his parents awkwardly, shifting his body into a sitting position.

Both of his parents glanced at the kitchen island, the soup still simmering in the pot, and a hot coffee resting beside Hitch’s bowl before returning their gazes to them. Armin doesn’t want to think about what his parents are thinking about. The last thing Armin wanted was for his mother to tease him more about Hitch.

Dumbfounded, his mother just nodded, flashing an awkward smile. “I see.” Armin knows that face really well, and at this moment, he just wanted Hitch to strangle him to death rather than suffer from his mother’s teasing.

“You two spare each other for tonight. Let’s have dessert! Mrs. Braun baked some egg tarts for us.” His father offered, raising his other hand, holding a box of tarts.

“That looks good with my coffee.” Hitch skipped a few steps from the stairs to take the box, and Armin followed at a much slower pace, ignoring his mother’s glare from his peripheral vision.

All four of them sat on high chairs at the kitchen island to finish the hotpot Armin and Hitch cooked earlier, having casual updates about school and church. Armin secretly sneaked some tarts onto a separate plate for Annie later. The tarts were sweet and freshly baked. He was sure she’d like that.

After the pot and the box were empty, Hitch gulped the last drop of coffee from her mug before calling it a day. “Thank you, Lord God, for always blessing us with delicious meals.” She finished off her prayer before clapping her hands twice. His parents followed with an amen.

“Alright, thank you for your time tonight, Hitch. Let me drive you back home. I’m sure Mrs. Dreyse is already looking for you.” His father offered.

“Thanks, Pastor!” Hitch gathered all her things to shove them inside her tote bag before glancing at Armin, “Don’t forget to practice our set for the camp. If you mess up our praise and worship, you’ll owe me dinner!” she reminded for the nth time before walking on his mother’s side to kiss her on the cheek. “See you later, Mrs. Arlert.”

“Bye, Hitch.” His mother smiled, gathering their plates to place inside the dishwasher. Armin waved at Hitch before he jumped from his chair to help his mother with the dishes.

When they heard his father’s car roar on the street and the sound slowly faded into the distance, his mother broke the silence, “Hitch is a good girl, Armin.”

“Mom, please don’t get me started.” He sighed, uncapping the dispenser to place a dishwasher pod, and then he threw one inside before closing the machine. He ran the lightest cycle before leaving it to do its job. He reached out at the center of the kitchen island for the plate of tarts he saved for Annie before giving his mother a good night kiss.

“You will still eat in your bedroom?” his mother inquired, placing back clean plates into the cupboard.

“Yeah, midnight snack. Good night, mom, love you.” He kissed his mother on the cheek before rushing up the stairs.

“Good night, honey!” his mother answered back from the kitchen.

Armin slowly opened the door; the creaking sound caught Annie’s attention. She was now changed into her pajamas, her hair curled in different directions as if she just untied it from a tight bun. The kitten snuggled comfortably on her lap, occasionally flicking its tail on her thighs. She caressed the white fur, now cleaner and healthier than when he found the poor thing in the middle of the road.

He walked to her side of the bed, placed the plate on the bedside table, and sat near her feet. His eyes lingered on the kitten as it purred, its round back moving up and down with calm breaths. Armin wished to embrace this kind of peace forever.

“Those tarts are for you,” he started. The sudden shift in the bed’s balance from his weight awakened the kitten. It raised its head to look at him for a second before going back to sleep. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed at the kitten, which made Annie slightly curve her mouth into a smile.

“I already had dinner with Mikasa before I came here, but I wouldn’t say no to tarts,” she whispered. “They look nice.” Armin nodded, smiling as he watched her take a piece and push the tart into her mouth. She hummed in approval.

“So, how was your shopping with Mikasa?” Armin asked, crossing his legs and tucking his hands underneath his calves.

Annie snickered, “You didn’t tell me. Mikasa’s fashion sense sucks.”

Armin chuckled, “I think Mikasa just wanted to be safe for both of you. I know that’s not how you dress, but that’s how people in church look like.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for doing this for me.”

“I just wanted to be there for you, in case you get yourself in trouble.”

Armin bit his lower lip, his face turned a bit serious. “You don’t have to look after me.”

“I know I don’t have to, but if it means that it’s my only way to be with you, then I’m willing to do it.” Her eyes pierced deep into his heart. If he stared at her eyes for a little longer, he might fall, so he dropped their gaze.

“Uh, right.” Armin shifted his position, his face reddened, unsure whether he understood the meaning of what she just said or if she meant nothing by that. He didn’t want to overthink it too much, so he changed the subject. “About the favors you asked me…”

“Yeah? What about it?” she replied dryly.

“I want to help you write those letters.”

For a moment, she looked surprised but amended her expression back to her usual cold façade. “You don’t have to. I already spent my money on shopping.”

“It’s fine; you can pay me later,” he offered. “You tell me what you feel, then I will write it on paper. Deal?”

“Just that?”

He hummed, nodding.

She crossed her arms, her eyes darting to the ceiling.

“Then you better keep your ears open at all times.”

#lovelettersfromtheskiestothewestcoast #armin arlert #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aruani #aruani fic #annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #armin arlelt #arminarlert #aruannie #annieleonhardt #aruani ao3 #ao3

[courtforshort15]

The Trouble with Vending Machines

Word count: 700

General summary: Matt Murdock can do things that no ordinary blind man can do, but he still runs into things that remind him of his disability.

Trigger warnings: discussion/content about Matt Murdock's struggle with his inability to see

Masterlist

"Excuse me," Matt calls out, knowing full well someone is about to walk by him. He waits until the woman is close enough that he can pretend he only hears her walking past him once she gets within a few feet. In reality, he heard her before she even entered the building. "Can you help me?"

The clacking of a woman's heels come to a stop, and he smells the scent of her shampoo float towards him as she turns back around to face him, hair swinging around her shoulders.

"Oh, sure," she replies once he assumes she has noticed the cane in his hands and the frame and dark lenses perched on the bridge of his nose. The sharp sounds of her heels echo through the hallway of the campus building as she makes her way over to him. "What can I help with?"

Matt has learned to adapt in a world without his sight, and would have done so even without the crotchety old man who had tried to make him into a perfect soldier. But even if no one was around, and even if he was able to use his abilities to navigate freely around the building, using this old goddamn vending machine would still be a struggle.

He knows vending machines that are user friendly for the visually impaired exist, but this machine is not one of them, and it's frustrating.

Matt smiles tightly. "First, can you tell me if this vending machine only takes cash, or is there a credit card option?" He already knows both are available, but his public persona is a series of acts and half-truths, and one must look the part of a blind man.

"You have the option to use either," she answers him in a kind, but matter of fact tone. The woman doesn't seem awkward or hesitant around his disability, which he appreciates. Some people walk on eggshells around him, nervous and afraid to offend him, and he hates it.

"Oh, great," he sighs in fake relief as he pulls out his wallet. "Does this machine have candy bars, by any chance?"

"It sure does. Do you have an idea of what you want?"

"Is there a Snickers bar?" Matt knows there is; he can smell the caramel and chocolate and peanuts. His guilty pleasure. "Or maybe a Reece's Cup?" The woman hmms briefly as she looks at the snacks inside.

"Yup," she responds. "It has both."

"Perfect," he smiles at her in what he knows is one of his most charming smiles, based on the reactions he gets from people who find him attractive. "I'll take both. How much is it? I'd rather not use my credit card, and I've only got five bucks on me." Cash in the United States dosen't have any Braille identifiers, which he thinks is ridiculous. He only knows which bill he has because Foggy helps him fold the corners of the cash a certain way, depending on the denomination.

For a country that supposedly prides itself on inclusivity, it sure isn't accommodating to people with disabilities.

"Yeah, it's only $3.75, it looks like. You've got enough." Her heartbeat assures him she's not lying, so Matt hands over the cash. The buttons beep on the vending machine as she enters in the letter and number combination assigned to each item. Matt hears the machine take the cash, and 30 seconds later, the candy bars are placed into his hands, along with the change.

"Thanks so much, I really appreciate it," he tells her, and he's being completely truthful as he does so. For all of the skills and techniques that Stick drilled into him as a child to help him manage his senses, this is something he honestly cannot do by himself if the machines aren't set up to accommodate people like him.

He is always able to tell which candy bars and chips may be housed behind the glass of the vending machine, but he can't tell what letters and numbers are associated with each snack, and he definitely isn't able to read the total dollar amount on the screen when places use older machines like these.

"Yeah, no problem," the woman says easily, which he appreciates. Most people tip-toe around his disability, and he can tell when people seem frustrated for having to do just a little extra work to accommodate him. "Do you need help getting somewhere? I know my way around the building pretty well."

Matt smiles, and it's one that's wider and more genuine this time. "No, but thank you. I can find my way back to the classroom."

"Okay, then. Have a great rest of your day."

"Yeah, you too." Matt hears the clacking of the woman's heels as she resumes her journey towards her next destination. Once she's gone, he unwraps the Snickers bar and throws the wrapper in the trash, before taking a large bite and making his way to his next class.

Happy Disability Pride Month!

This post had two main motives:

1. I wanted to take a moment and highlight the fact that even the littlest things can cause harm, even if it's something you don't personally struggle with, and that all these things deserve attention and consideration in making a world that is inclusive to everyone

2. I did this from a fanfiction lense...Matt Murdock is 100000% blind, even when he describes his "world on fire" to Karen, and that fact sometimes got lost in the shuffle

Please please PLEASE let me know if something looks off, if I should change something, etc. I know it can be a sensitive topic and the last thing I want to do is cause more harm.

---

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #college!matt murdock #disability pride month

[fenharel]

saskia i am on my hands and knees begging for some ysabel info! what’s her backstory? what’s she like during the game? she’s so 🥰💖

[PERSONALITY]

Ysabel is a noble, Lolth Sworn Drow, living in Menzoberrazan and is a School of Divination Wizard

Shes an chaotic neutral ENTP, Gemini, 125 years old and 1.60m tall

Ysabel is creative and intelligent, mischievous and cunning. Some perceive her as quirky, eccentric - funny, confident with a giant ego, but also power hungry and selfish, sometimes cruel. She has always been full of ideas, always thinking of new and better ways to do things. She’s always been curious, more often than not you find her with her nose stuck in a book. Her childhood bedroom was exploding with books about fungi or tomes like “The past and present: a Scholars Guide to Divination”. 

She’s also rather extroverted and a social chameleon, excellent at manipulation and persuasion, something her mother often took advantage of, as she would often use her children like chess pieces in her political affairs.

[BACKSTORY]

The noble house of Do’Rahel is one of the 8 powerful houses in Menzoberranzan

Ysi has two older sisters (Yris, Yvory) and one younger brother (Ysmael, my warlock charlatan & very first D&D oc 😘)

Their mother (Yaelryn Do’Rahel) is a matron mother, a priestess of Lolth and a powerful and influential figure in Menzoberrazan’s affairs

As most intelligent people are prone to, Ysabel was more questioning of things like societal norms or rules and ideas than what was socially acceptable in the Cult of Lolth, something her mother often reminded her of through whipping. But her mother was also more progressive than some would believe - when her daughter showed more interest in the arcane than continuing her training as a cleric she encouraged it. She thought that having one of her daughters in the circle of the Sorcere was something that could be beneficial to her.

After a particularly nasty ambush on Ysabel (your regular weekend in the Underdark really) her mother assigned one of their warriors as her personal guard - a tiefling slave called Lucien (Side note but he’ll be romancing Shadowheart in a future playthrough 🤓)

Lucien was in his early twenties and enslaved for around 5 years at the time, he was passionate and charming, warm and strong. But he was also as cunning as he was kind. Ysabel liked him, and often would spend more time with him than was strictly necessary. He had Ysabel figured out quickly, and noticed that traits in her that might be weaknesses in her mothers eyes, could be his opportunity. That growing close to her could be his ticket to get free.

But things didn't necessarily work out for him at first as he would have thought - both of them fell in love.

He would tell her stories of his previous life, about his ideals and morals, about the world above. How children do not fear for their life where he is from, how parents love their children unconditionally, how he missed feeding the neighbors ducks before he would go to school. Ysi would laugh at him sometimes, call him weak and soft. But sometimes she would indulge in his stories. Catching herself thinking of them in bed before she go meditating. How strange it must be to live so truly carefree.

The influence Lucien had on her was undeniable. Small and meaningless at first maybe but there nonetheless. There were glimpses of true kindness in Ysabel only he got to see. Glimpses of love - real love, not just the craving for flesh or power he was accustomed to from other Drow. He saw that he had shaken her morals and beliefs, slightly perhaps, but shaken. So when she finally wanted to set him free out of her own volition, instead of running when his binding spell was broken he asked for her to come with him.

She helped him to stage his own death and broke his bonds and let him go, but she didn’t go with him. This would be a turning point in her life, something she regretted for the rest of her existence, something she kept thinking about for years on end.

For many years after, she buried herself in her tower. She never dared to think of why she said no, instead she sat in front of her mirror of memories, where she relived the time she had with Lucien. But in doing so, a part of herself, the past party in fact, was lost in it. Her present self was split in half. She was either overly good or overly evil, and she became known for being mad and for research and experiments that were even extreme by Drow standards. 

She was in this state for at least 60 years. She had short periods of time where she managed to stabilize herself through experiments, but it never worked for long. Nevertheless, she made a name for herself, she was an extremely powerful wizard, was considered one of the masters of Sorcere and had a place in their council. (Much to their dismay. Assassination attempts from her colleagues were a daily occurrence tbh.)

[GAME TIMELINE]

House Do’Rahel was infiltrated by Absolute cultists, leading to the almost death of her sisters Yris and Yvory, and the losing a handful of their staff members. Ysabel's mother also heard rumors of similar things happening in House Baenre and other houses all over the city. Sensing a bigger plot, instead of sending warbands like her colleagues, she only send Ysabel and a handful of warriors on a scouting mission. She was to gather as much information as possible. If she would see an opportunity beneficial to them - she should take it, and most importantly she was also to kill or capture any heretic or deserter of Lolth.

The trail they followed led them to the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. She didn’t know it at the time but she was on her way to Moonrise Towers when she was abducted. When she woke up in the Nautiloid, the tadpole didn’t just strip her of her powers, but also stabilized her mind.

Being fully herself again after so long felt like having someone forcefully pushing a heart back into her. At the beginning of her journey she’s manipulative (she does a lot of the “heroic” options not because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, but because she thinks it’s a smarter way to uncover what is going on and/or because working with the Absolute would go against Lolth), she’s also selfish and a bit cruel, but a lot of things she does suddenly don’t feel the same to her anymore, and an top of that the problem with the tadpole - it forces her into introspection. 

At some point she realizes that her companions remind her of Lucien, and the time she had with him. Her development throughout the game mainly consists of her realizing that she rather wants love and friendship than pure ruthless power. She develops a consciousness, empathy. Something Lucien already built the groundwork of so many years ago. She realizes she was too much of a coward back then, that she couldn't let go of all that power and desert Lolth even though that's what she really wanted. Surrounded by her new friends, she doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. In her mind, she’ll never be truly good, much less a hero. But she doesn’t want to be what she used to be either. Seeing real friendship, love, experiencing it for herself, she realizes the only times she wasn't hollow was with Lucien - and now, with them. 

Her new friends act as mirrors to herself as well. She sees herself in Gale when he gets obsessed over the Crown, she sees herself in Astarion when he’s willing to kill all his former friends for power. And she sees herself in Lae’zel, Wyll & Shadowheart when it comes to the influence a God, Goddess or devil can have on you. They were all on the path she already walked on, and the guilt she is carrying with her over things she can’t change anymore is overwhelming, so she stops them all, helps them see what is truly important. 

About the reason she was in Baldur’s Gate in the first place, she isn’t honest with her companions at first, she has obviously her own agenda like everyone else in that camp. She was forced to explain herself by Wyll when she let True Soul Nere kill the Gnomes. Having a tadpole in her head made everything more personal of course, she starts going against the Absolute not in the name of Lolth or for her mother but for herself and her own beliefs in Act 2.

After the game, her mind is still hers. Going through so much change and admitting her biggest fears repaired herself, like a curse she casted and then lifted on herself. Also, she and Astarion guide the Vampire spawn in the Underdark for a while, and she also researches for ways to make Astarion walk in the sun again (and I like to headcanon that she succeeds :3)

If you want to take a peak, here is Ysabels pinterest 🥺, and since i mentioned Lucien, here is his'.

#shadowglens #answered #thank you for enabling me sophie. i wanted to post an info dumb for so long but im such a lazy mf #im leaving kisses on ur forehead but im also running away in fear. god i already cut this down but it's still so long IM SO SORRY 😭 #you: whats her backstory; me: here is my essay. kdjfslkjflsf #ysabel do'rahel #ocs tag #bg3 spoilers #lucien lovera #& yes u guessed right. jekyll & hyde was my inspiration for her Lul. also redemption arcs are my unguilty pleasure :3 #idk if i was really able to explain it but ysi's biggest flaws are cowardice and stagnation??? #having a damn mindflayer worm in her brain gave her finally the kick in the butt to be honest with herself #i think even if her mind would have stayed intact she would still have stayed in the underdark. she just would have been unhappier about it #or worse. however u wanna call it #oh side note but she was neutral evil before the lucien times. then become somewhat CN (then was split into chaotic good/chaotic evil.) #her current desposition is chaotic neutral. just to clarify since it might sound weird